HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA OR Love's Masterpiece.  
BEING That so much admired ROMANCE. ENTITLED CLEOPATRA, In Twelve Parts.  
Written Originally in the French, and now Elegantly rendered into English.  
By ROBERT LOVEDAY.  Evand. 
Qui magis optaret Cleopatra Parentibus orta Conspicuis, Comiti quam placuisse Thori?  
LONDON, Printed, by W. R. and J. R. and are to be sold by Peter Parker, at his Sop at the Leg and Star over against the Royal Exchange, and Thomas Guy, at the Corner-shop of Little Lumbard-street and Cornhill, 1674.   

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE His ever HONOURED LADY, THE LADY CLINTON  
MADAM,  
AT such times as your silent Authority gave me leave to want better employment, this trifle (that now begs to live a Shrub under the secure shade of Your Patronage) was sinned into English; and though, not to confess the presumption, be to add to it, yet its being born in your Honour's service, bids me hope it less rudeness, thus to throw itself at your feet, than to disclaim the privilege of being Yours. Madam, I am not ignorant (if You descend to the perusal of this humble Toy) that You must force Your Sublime thoughts (which usually fly at fair Quarries) to a stooping: but as the Sun (who is the clearest Emblem of Your Virtues) when mounted to his Meridian, does not disdain to look downwards; so if You vouchsafe to let fall the beams of a Smile upon this Piece, and bid it live, how unkindly others may use it shall never be placed among the fears of.  
MADAM, Your Honour's most humble and ever obedient Servant, LOVEDAY.   

TO THE READER.  
REader, thou hast here my Recreations; if they have the luck to be thine, I have my end, and we are both pleased: Thou wilt here find History enamelled with Fiction, and Truth dressed like a May-Lady, who through the gay disguise of her Flowery Ornaments, does often show her own simplicity. If thou be'st an Historian, thou wilt trace his ingenius Pen through Tacitus. Florus, Suetonius, and others that wrote Augustus' life, and find with what skilful method he hath culled such Flowers from each of their Gardens, as were fittest to beautify his Garland. It was the same hand that wrote the much cried up Cassandra, and the best judgements agree, now that this is perfected as happily as begun, it need not yield that any other precedency but of time (in all things else it claims advantage;) but I keep thee too long at the Door.  
Farewell. R. L.   

To his deserving Friend Mr. Loveday, upon his Translation of CLEOPATRA.  

SOme use to praise before they do peruse,  
And make a Common Hackney of their Muse.  
I love my Friend, yet do I love to look,  
Before I pass my verdict on his Book.  
'Tis merit wins Encomiastic Strains,  
While Sycophants, who prostitute their Brains,  
Profess a servile practic Art of praise,  
And Crown weak Artists with Apollo's Bays.  
I would be loath my Genius should be such,  
" This pure Elixired Grain will bide the touch.  
I dare maintain't; where Language, Method, Wit,  
Approve his Judgement that commendeth it.  
Nor is it greater glory to a State,  
To invent a piece, than aptly to Translate,  
Wherein my Friend has such exactness shown,  
His Native-dress has made the Work his own;  
I am no Partialist; it is a crime  
That suits with Tim-ists, it is none of mine;  
It was a Maxim from a sybil's mouth;  
Who thwarts it, is Apostata to truth.  
" Where Nature grounds, and Art improves increase,  
" That only hand completes Love's Masterpiece.  
Nomen amoris babens, & amare Charactere cogens,  
Ingenui vatis nomen omenque tenes.  
Nomen amans, & amantis opus sint pignora palmis  
Digna peregrinis, ut rediere tuis.   

Arbores multi renovant Coloni,  
Quo magis cultu redeant opimi;  
Hoc agit Loveday renovans libelli   
Ora faceti—  

Coetus ut sancti pariunt modestos,  
Et novae vestes faciunt venustos,  
Mille te dignum tenuere testes   
Messe laboris.—  
R. Braithwait.   

Upon this choice Work, Love's Masterpiece exposed to light by Mr. Loveday.  

AS Pearl 'mong Gems, so 'mong the passions Love  
Excels, and in a higher Orb doth move.  
Her Sister's Faith and Hope attend us here,  
While through the Elements our course we steer;  
But Love soars with the Soul beyond the Sky,  
As imped in Her to all Eternity;  
But what was here frail fancy that did burn  
Sometimes, and freeze soon after, there shall turn  
To an Angelic Nature, ever free  
From all such fits of Mutability.   

This Author doth this Passion so display,  
And in such high Ideas, that he may  
Stand to be Chairman, and so sit above  
The choicest Masters in the School of Love.   
James Howel.   

Thoughts on this Translation of Love's Masterpiece.  
GReek Heliodorus with Millifluous Style,  
In th' Ethiopic story did compile  
Ideas, which might regularly move  
To conjugal affections, and pure Love.  
Loveday, thy Gallik Author doth advance  
Such with new Art and splendours to his France;  
And thou (whose virtuous knowledge did compile  
Them in best Language of thy Native Isle)  
As He to modern France, Thou to Old Greece,  
For us framed of style the Masterpiece.  
John Chapperline.   

Upon his Teaching CLEOPATRA English.  
I've read some Books on this side, some beyond  
The Alps, where greatest rarities are found;  
But, to speak truth, amongst all did never find  
A Version that so richly clothed the mind  
Of th' Author, nor more gallantly advance  
Our English Language above that of France.  
All Tongues must have their height, and fall in Rome:  
Tully made Latin perfect, but its Doom  
Soon followed his, Loveday has done the same  
For English, whose Beauty will renown his Name.  
The greatest fear is, none can tread his Path,  
So that his Lines will be its Epitaph.  
R. W.   

To my very honoured Friend, Mr. Robert Loveday, upon his matchless Version Entitled Loves Masterpiece.  
THE rarest Plants, and Flowers sometimes improve,  
Their Growth and Beauty, by a kind remove.  
Sidney's the Phosper, thou the splendent Sun,  
Deserves the Laurel of our English Tongue.  
The Garland's thine, O give me leave to say,  
I like thy Dawn, but better LOVE thy DAY.  
Ma. Brown, Doc. Med.   

To my worthy and most dear Friend, Mr. R. LOVEDAY.  
FRiend to Sir Philip Sidney, was of all  
Saints Alban boasts, the most magnifical.  
Nor is mine less of thee, who always wert  
My peerless Friend, and ever hadst my heart;  
Others thy Version praise, but I praise thee,  
A perfect mirror of Integrity.  
Canst love thy friend, though absent? no design  
Can ravish friendship from that breast of thine;  
Where all the noble virtues that are found  
In this whole Book, do signally abound.  
Expose thy Virtues then, that men may call  
This Book their Copy, thee th' Original.   

To his Dear Brother Mr. Robert Loveday, upon his Translation of CLEOPATRA.  

COULD I with Pencil copy so,  
As thou with Pen hast drawn this piece,  
The famed Masters I should outdo  
Of both the Empires, Rome and Greece:  
And what the old Samian said, prove true in this,  
As Souls, so Arts, their transmigration is.   

This grain adds nothing to thy Store,  
And want of skill bade me not write;  
Yet Love said, do, though it be poor,  
'Twill borrow lustre form his light:  
A piece of Gum that from a free heart comes.  
May show true Love, as well as Hecatombs.   
A. LOVEDAY.   

To my much esteemed Friend, and Dear Brother Mr. Robert Loveday, upon his happy labours of Translating CLEOPATRA.  

WERE yet alive the Cleopatra fair,  
Candace, Elisa, or Grand Caesar's Heir,  
With th' Heroes of those times, they'd all allow  
They ne'er such Lustre did receive as now:  
What ever other Authors written have  
Had buried lain in dark Oblivion's Grave,  
Or been deprived of the greatest Glory  
That all acknowledge due to such a Story;  
But that thy Pen renewed and imped the Wings.  
To their Illustrious Fame, repeating things  
In quainter and conciser Terms than they.   

Spurn then at envy's Plots, contemn all them  
That strove to rob the World of such a Gem;  
Or pay th' Opposers thanks, since th' Others pain  
Serves as a foil to that Politer strain.   
J. Wright.   

To my very much Honoured Friend Mr. Robert Loveday, upon his matchless Version, Entitled Loves Masterpiece.  
SIR, there is nothing that offends me so  
(Next to my sins) as these Your Lines must go  
For a Translation; which no less exceed  
The French, than Fertile-Nile, the Barren Tweed:  
Which (when the Delphic Sword of Him that Reigns  
Hath Conquered France, made the steep Mountains, Plains,  
And laid both Dialects in common,) shall  
Be thought no Copy, but th' Original.  
For where the Author only doth abound  
With Graceful words, here th' are with Fancy Crowned:  
What he wrapped up in Clouds of grosser Air,  
Your LOVE distils in Phrase polite and fair.  
Where he Confounds us with an irksome Night,  
Your DAY Reviveth by his Gladsome Light:  
Chawcer and Gowr our Language but refined,  
You (SIR) true Chemist like, have it calcined:  
Hewed out the Barbarous knots, and made it run  
As smooth as doth the Chariot of the Sun;  
Whilst French is but the Foil, to let us see  
The Lustre of our Tongue's Prosperity.  
And this choice Work more fitly styled is,  
(Not only LOVE'S,, but) LOVED AYES Masterpiece.  
G. Wharton.   

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA, OR Love's Masterpiece.  

The First BOOK.  
ARGUMENT.  
Prince Tyridates rescues Queen Candace from the Jaws of Neptune, invites her to his Solitary Residence, and there gives the relation of his Life. His Extraction, Education, and strange escape from the inhuman Cruelty of his Brother Phraates; the after Murder of his Father and all his Brethren. The secret and open practices of his Brother's malice pursue him through the Courts of Armenia, Media, and Bythinia, where he runs the hazard of his Life by the Treachery of King Pharnaces, He flies into Judea, is received and treated honourably by Herod: Relates his cruelties: Falls in love with Queen Mariam, and Salome Herod's Sister with him. He commands in the War against Malichus the Arabian, gives him many brave defeats, and at last, by a total overthrow drives him out of Judea; returning finds Hircanus murdered. He gains Sohemus to let him visit her, discovers his affection, which she virtuously rejects. Herod's prosperous return from his Rhodian Voyage to Augustus. He enlarges Mariam. Salome artificially insinuates her love to Tyridates, but is civilly refused, which half converts it into spite. Tyridates often renews his research of Mariam, and is often confuted and repulsed by her wisdom and virtue, which refines his affection.  
THE Shades of night had not yet given place to the first blushes of the day, when the sad Tyridates wakened by his cruel inquietudes, and not able to wait the approaching light, left his solitary Mansion, to breathe his languishing body and amorous thoughts upon the Shore of Alexandria. The Estate of his Mind, with that of his Fortune, furnished him with matter ample enough to entertain the hours, and upon this employment he still bestowed the better part of his day; his griefs were the most lively, and his misfortunes the most violent that ever Soul was capable of representing: And yet, he fancied so much glory in those sufferings, that (cruelly as they used him) he could neither hate nor desire the end of a misery, to which he had consecrated the rest of his deplorable life. He had given some moments to these sad considerations, when lifting his eyes from the Earth, where they had long been fixed, and sending a look toward the Sea, they were encountered with an object capable to arrest them.  
It was a great Fire, which raising itself from the waves, seemed to climb Heaven, with no other design, than to seek a Refuge in its proper Centre, from the Enemies it fled; the flames in some places (mixed with thick smoke) rolled themselves in great flashes towards the Stars, and shot their sparks upwards so fiercely, that they seemed to contest for splendour with those lights, wherewith the Firmament was then embroidered. Tyridates' judged with much likelihood, that the flames could not rise from the Ocean's bosom, unless sustained in some burning vessel, which made his generous and compassionate inclination deplore their mishap that were involved in that combustion, and (wanting power to give other succours) he sent the assistance of some Vows to Heaven for their deliverance.  
Ah! devouring flames! cried he, You yet act your part with less power and cruelty than mine: if you be not suddenly quenched the materials will soon fail that feed your fury: but my fire finds in my Soul an eternal punishment, no hope of relief from a contrary Element, nor end of such a substance as may ever burn without consuming. With these were mingled many sighs, that rose in throngs from his breast; and in the mean time beholding the Fire with a serious eye, he spied it grow pale at the day's arrival which soon after disrobed the Sea and Earth of all their Sables; and thus his sight was no sooner set at liberty, but surprised again by a second spectacle, which touched him more feelingly than the first. Hespyed some persons that had indeed escaped the Fire, and were now disputing for life with the liquid Element, and striving with all their strength to gain the shore, which they saw already near them. This little number was composed of two Women who tied themselves with fast embraces to a Plank that sustained them, and a Man that swum behind, and with all his power pushed it towards the Shoar, as if he had only tendered his own life to employ it in the preservation of theirs: yet he was grown so weary, as the hope of making good his assistance began to languish; for, though the distance between the Ship and Shoar was not so great, but a man might swim it in a calm, yet the pains he had taken in thrusting forward the Lady's Plank, added to what themselves had suffered by water's coldness, the tossing of the billows, (a toil too rude to agree with their delicacy) had rendered them so feeble, as all their force was left, was not able to reach the Shoar. Oh! What Beauties were there exposed to Thetis mercy, how proud the Waves were grown of the privilege they had gotten to court and kiss one of the fairest Bodies that ever Nature framed! and (to render their Courtship less dangerous) they seemed to lay by a part of their ordinary fury, yet retained enough to make their embraces fatal, if the Gods had not sent relief.  
Tyridates well discerning what kind of pity the object craved stayed not to weigh his resolution, but (spurred by that generous disposition, that taught him freely to expose his life for the safety of the miserable,) (clad as he was) he threw himself into the Sea, being only covered with a thin light habit, that could not hinder his design, and swimming with a mighty force, he had soon reached them, just as they were reduced to the extremest need of succour, and bidding the Man employ what strength was left him for his proper safety, he tendered the same service to the Women (which till then they had received of him) with such success, and drove their Plank so strongly forward, as in a short time they approached near enough the Shoar to find a bottom, and stay themselves upon their feet; then, leisurely removing their bodies, and propping each with an Arm, he led them gently to the Shoar, whither presently after came their Man, just as Tyridates was preparing to repeat the danger in his behalf.  
The Principal of these Ladies resembled Venus newly sprung from Thetis womb, or something more fair, if possible; and though Tyridates was prepossessed by one of the World's rarest Beauties, yet he could not behold hers without astonishment, and some inclination to Idolatry; he had doubtless taken her for some Sea - Goddess, if he had not seen the Waves use her too rudely to be her Subjects: and he would have believed her a Celestial Deity, if the extremity wherein he beheld her some moments before had not persuaded him that he lent his succours to a mortal Beauty: Indeed her Complexion had not so pure and delicate a white as the World could show, though it much surpassed common Beauties but in revenge of this, her eyes (to whose blackness, nothing but her Hair was comparable) shot such penetrating rays, all the Features of her Face formed to so rare a proportion, her Neck (than half uncovered) so well seconded the charms of her Visage, and her shape (much over-topping the Common Stature of Women) accompanied with a Gesture so graceful and Majestic, every part helping to make the composure admirable; that no eye could view it, and not carry War to the Heart, and give the Soul a hot Alarm of extraordinary motion.  
Tyridates had not then the leisure singly to consider all these marvels, and she that possessed them had no sooner gained the Shoar, but she let herself fall upon the Sand, too much oppressed with weariness to sustain it, or command force enough to pay her thanks, or almost one single regard to her Deliverer; her Woman had the same Title to repose, and was likewise fallen at her Lady's feet, but the Man (though he had undergone excessive toil) had too stout a Constitution to sink under what he had suffered or lose the memory and power to render a fit acknowledgement to his Preserver; at whose Feet he threw himself, and embracing his Knees with much affection, Whatever you are, said he, I will speak the resentments I ought to have for the life I owe you, if they were fit to be mentioned with what you have for another: But Sir, the whole World is my fellow Debtor to your Generosity, for the safety of one of its most considerable Persons.  
Tyridates (helping him up, and inviting him to sit a while, and endeavour to dismiss the weariness his Travel had contracted) told him. That he would hold that for the happiest day the angry Gods had ever sent him, if he had done any thing in relation to his or that Persons preservation, upon whose precious life he had set so rich a value. To these they both added some other expressions of Civility, when the beauteous Lady (time having restored part of her spirits) rose from the seat her feebleness had chosen, and casting her eyes round, stayed them upon Tyridates, whom she knew had preserved her. His Face was none of those that might be seen without surprisal, for the world had very few that could show more signs of an illustrious birth: such a pleasing manly sweetness was stamped in all his Features, that the fair unknown found enough in his noble looks to claim respect, and judging him worthy of her Civility, she accosted him with a gesture replete with Grace and Majesty.  
I owe you my life, said she, but am not troubled to be redenable to a man that carries in his face so many marks of a Birth and virtue sublime and illustrious. Tyridates who by the Beams of that admirable Beauty, and the Stranger's advantageous Character, had already understood what was due to her, rose from his Seat, and returned her these words with much submission. Madam, You honour me with a high opinion borrowed from erroneous conjectures; yet 'tis true my extraction is none of the meanest; but, with much regret, I confess, I owe that to the glory of my Ancestors, which I despair to make good by my proper virtue. The fair unknown had certainly endeavoured to confute Tyridates' modesty, if he had not opposed it by representing the inconvenience she suffered in her wet habits, and the hazard her health might run if she continued in that Condition; to remedy which; Madam, said he, I am a Stranger as well as you, and the rather so, because the miseries of my life have enjoined me to fly all sorts of Society; they are those which will not suffer me to offer a retreat worthy of you, which at some other time, and in another Country I might possibly Command; I have only here a little House some five or six hundred Paces hence, seated in the most Savage and Solitary place that I could choose, there are some Chambers Commodious enough, and Beds in them, where you may repose yourselves till your clothes be dry. Your entertainment will not be so splendid as the City may afford, but you shall have less noise and trouble, where you shall see no Person that will not be disposed to serve you. Your offers are full of Nobleness, replied the fair Stranger, but before I accept them, if you please, I would gladly learn what City this is, and in what Country, we now are. You do now behold, said Tyridates, the Walls of proud Alexandria, the Metropolis of the great Kingdom of Egypt made illustrious both by her Founder, and the successive Residence of so many mighty Kings, but it seems at present she sadly suffers the change of her Condition; for, having been the Royal Seat of the Ptolome's, Anthony's, and Cleopatra's, she is now reduced (not without the reluctance of some disdain) to be the Mansion and ●ow to the Command of a Governor. While Tyridates uttered this, the Man, which was saved from the wrack, began to renew his acquaintance with the Shoar and Walls of Alexandria, and beheld them with astonishment; from thence turning his Eyes upon the Stranger's Face, he perceived her change colour, and understanding some Sighs, which the words of Tyridates had forced from her Breast, but striving to recover her temper she entreated Tyridates to instruct her further. It is Cornelius Gallus, said he, that now commands Alexandria, together with all Egypt, for the Emperor Augustus, who gave him this Government after the deplorable death of the unfortunate Anthony, and the great Queen Cleopatra, who, in this unhappy City, (about nine years since) lost both life and Empire, but sure you must know this Story, for it is not likely the Earth hath any part, which the fame of that fatal quarrel (that decided the World's command) has not visited. I have heard of it, replied the Stranger with a faint voice, but by the Discourse you have made me, I see myself reduced to make use of your bounty, and accept of the retreat which you proffer. Let us go then, said she, (offering him her hand) when you please, and the dangers I have newly scaped among Treacherous men, cannot hurt the Confidence my opinion hath of your Virtue. At these words she began to set forward, and on either side staying her Arm on him, and the Man that was preserved with her, she overcame that short way, not without much trouble, caused by her former weariness, together with the coldness and weight of her wet Apparel.  
The House whither Tyridates conducted her, and where he than made his own abode was seated amongst divers points of a Rock, which overlooked one side of it; on that quarter where the Highway lay, it was concealed from the Eye, by a Wood mingled with Rocks: but on that side which regarded the Sea, they might have a full free view from the Windows, as far as the sight would reach. The fair Lady, with her Retinue, was no sooner arrived there, but Tyridates (having given Command to some Servants, speedily to make a well furnished Chamber fit to receive them) led them thither, and there respectively took his leave, that they might freely enjoy the privacy of laying off their Robes: They went to bed, the Mistress commanding her Servant to lie with her, being a privilege she had often granted her in their former Travels: Tyridates changed clothes, and sent a Servant with a dry Suit to the Stranger, whose countenance gave him a good Character, and spoke his Age about Fifty years.  
After they had all bestowed some hours upon repose, Dinner was served up to the Ladies in their Bed, and Tyridates having dined in another Chamber with his unknown Guest, desired him to ask the Ladies at what hours he might visit them, and not be importunate: the fair Stranger having sent her answer that she was ready to receive him, he entered the Chamber, where she treated him with much civility; she was then so well recovered, that all the Beauty which pain and fear had put to flight was come back again to its usual lustre: which Tyridates took some time to admire; for, though his heart was captive to another, yet it could not hinder him from giving her the Palm, from all that ever his Eye acknowledged fair: The Lady had no less satisfaction from his brave looks; and this mutual esteem gave to each an almost equal desire of a further discovery: The Respect which the Lady's Face had imprinted in Tyridates, would not suffer him to own his Curiosity; but she was so hardy to profess hers, and after she had invited him to a Seat near her bed, and beheld him with a more pleasing Aspect than she had yet expressed; I should be very ungrateful, said she, if I had any design to hide my condition from a Person to whom I am indebted for my life; and though there be many Reason's weighty enough to dissuade the discovery of my Name, Birth, and Fortunes, in a Country that has deserved to be suspected; yet I should easily consent to trust the secret of my life to the Remembrance of what I owe you, and the opinion I have of your Virtue, if my desire to know you better did not want some satisfaction: Pardon this Curiosity to my Sex and apprehension, and think it not strange that I am willing to understand his Name and Condition, whose Face and Behaviour have already spoke so much to his advantage: If you do not find cause to suspect me, deny not my desire, and in exchange I shall give you the Relation of divers passages, which, with the confidence I repose in you, may be judged important.  
Tyridates took some moments to reply to these words; but a while after (lifting his eyes from the Earth, and fixing them upon the Face of his fair Guest) You desire that of me, said he, which can never be paid for with a less price than what you offer, and I should be very hardly drawn to reveal the the secret of my life to any that could challenge less respect and obedience than yourself; it were frivolous to conceal, that to the confession of my Name is fastened the manifest danger of my life; for, that is fallen to so low a value in my consideration, that it cannot oblige me to hide it from you; but if I give this relation faithfully, I must disclose things which were never yet declared to any, and which I was resolved to continue secret, so long as my breast could hold them; yet I shall forget all these considerations, and (armed with the hope of your promised exchange) try to subdue all the difficulties that withstand my obedience.  
Instead of rebating, these words inflamed the Lady's desire, yet she reserved so much discretion to tell him, that she should be sorry to importune the recital of so weighty a secret: But Tyridates replied, he had already cleared all the obstacles that resisted his inclination to obey her, and (having kept silence some moments to prepare attention) he began his Story in this manner.  

The History of TYRIDATES.  
THE Discourse I am now begin, is nought else but a Web of Miseries, interwoven with a few memorable Events; it would afflict your Patience if I did not resolve to abridge it, and (slightly touching the rest) only enlarge myself upon those Adventures that are most important.  
My name is Tyridates, I am of the illustrious blood of the Arsacides, Son of Orodes King of the Parthians, (under whom the Roman Power received so great a shock by the lose of Crassus and his Army) and Brother to the cruel Phraates, who now possesseth that great Empire, which our Ancestors have commanded, since the grand Arsaces founded that proud Monarchy of whom we are descended from Father to Son in a direct masculine line.  
At the knowledge of Tyridates his quality, his fair Guest regarded him with a graceful eye, and (interrupting the beginning of his Discourse) I took my conjecture, said she, from many signs I observed, that your birth was not common, and am well pleased to find my opinion not erroneous; and lest you should believe her a mean Person that hath engaged so great a Prince to this long Narration, I shall let you know (before I give a more ample Relation of my life) that I was born a Princess, and am lawful Queen to one of the most puissant and Rich Empires of the world. At these words Tyridates rose from his Chair, and making an obeisance as low as the verge of her Robe, demanded pardon for the faults his Ignorance had committed; the fair Queen, made him the same excuses, and when they had allowed some time for this Discourse, Tyridates being returned (by the Queen's entreaty) to his Seat, thus pursued his Story.  
I was born under an unfortunate Planet, and those which consulted the Stars at my Nativity, did all find me menaced by most malicious influences, especially the Mathematician Thrasillus, who (before his Youth had done blooming) had acquired a great reputation in that Science, and does at this day pass, for one of the World's living Wonders; he saw me in Armenia, which I visited in one of my unfortunate Voyages; after he had perused some lines in my Hand and Face, and been informed of the day and hour of my Birth, he foretold my Miseries should not end but with my Life, that neither should long continue, that I was threatened with a Death, which should be neither Violent nor Natural, but participating something of both. In my first Childhood I was nourished in the King my Father's Court, with a great number of Brothers, of which I was the youngest, Pacorus and Phraates being 16 or 18 years elder than I. I was not 8 years old when my Brothers the Princes Pacorus and Labienus broke into the Territories of Asia that obeyed the Roman People, defeated Saxa, and (swelled with their lucky success) ravaged Cilicia with a part of Syria; it may be you have heard of the progress they have made in so short a time: But the end was much different, for the following year they were defeated and unluckily slain by the Roman Army, commanded by Ventidius, Lieutenant to Antonius.  
After the death of Pacorus, the Prince Phraates my Brother, not much short of his Age, being already married, succeeded to the Helm of the Parthian affairs; for the King our Father, beginning to stoop under his years, desired the Comforts of a Calm Age, and to be released of the Troubles which his Youth had sustained. At my tenth year, the King sent me to a little City upon our Frontier, where usually the Parthian Royal Infants were educated, and there the Prince Pacorus had learned part of his Exercises: I took some pains at mine, with a success fruitful enough to content my Tutors; and after I had there employed about four years' time, and began to think of being called home to my Father's Court I understood it had been lately died with blood, and that blood Royal, newly drawn from my poor murdered Brothers: this Act hath been too well known to all the world for the honour of Arsacides, whose name to all ages will stand blotted with eternal Obloquy; the cruel and ambitious Phraates (unworthy of the Race and Memory of Arsaces') desirous to make sure of that Authority, which he feared his Brother's might one day find means to disturb, caused them to be barbarously slain; and the aged King our Father, for making his grief appear in his just complaints, and declaiming against his detestable Inhumanity, in some terms that displeased, provoked him to complete the Horror of this Age, and the Infamy of Royal Dignity, by the addition of Parricide, thus punishing no other Crime in his murdered Father, than the giving life to that Cutthroat of him and all his Offspring.  
I had shared the same Fate with my Brethren, if he that was dispatched with the bloody Commission to the City where I was, had not been touched with the sense of virtue, and a respect due to the Extraction of Kings. In stead of executing Phraates command, he saved me from his Cruelty; and having informed me in few words of my Brother's deplorable Murder, (for that of the King my Father was not yet perpetrated) with the charge he had given him; But Arsanes, said he, will sooner choose a thousand ways to perish, than consent to dip his hands in his Master's Blood; let us save ourselves, Young Prince, and evade the dire design of that savage Monster that would destroy us. I entirely resigned myself up to his conduct, and (being followed by my Governor, with five or six Servants that were willing to run my Fortune) I got to Horse; and, though I had scarce attained to 14 years, I exposed myself to the hardship of a painful Journey, uncertain to save a life, which I never yet could own with comfort.  
Thus I first grew miserable, and began at an early age to inure myself to Banishment, and thus I have learned to hope no better than to finish my disgrace and my days together.  
Arsanes first conducted me to the Court of Armenia, where the King (keeping no very friendly correspondence with Phraates, and not willing in his behalf, to violate the right of Nations) received me into his protection. In that Court I enjoyed some Tranquillity. Besides what the King allowed me, Arsanes had brought a quantity of Jewels, valued at about a thousand Talents, which the King my Father (to whom he disclosed the design he had to save me had given him at his departure: but Fortune soon showed how much my repose displeased her, by the Calamities that befell the good King that had given me shelter, who most unfortunately fell with all his Family into the hands of Antony, her Enemy, and was led bound to Queen Cleopatra, who some time after with most barbarous Inhumanity caused his head to be struck off. This Disaster, which doubtless you have heard, (being important enough to spread over the whole Earth) sent me to seek another Sanctuary; which Arsanes would needs have to be the Court of Media, betwixt whose King, and the King Orodes there was some alliance; there I found the retreat I desired, and stayed two or three years. In that time there happened the ruin of Antony and Cleopatra, the establishment of Augustus Caesar in the Roman Empire, and many other Revolutions, in which the whole World was concerned.  
The cruel Phraates often sent to demand me of the Median King, but could never dispose him to put me into his hands; yet after he had made many Incursions upon his Territories, he at last obtained his promise to protect me no longer. At Praaspa, the Capital City of Media, I received his Orders to retire, coloured with divers excusive reasons, which laid the blame upon Necessity. From whence I went into Bythinia, where I was received by the old King Pharnaces, who for two years' time treated me with Humanity enough: but at last the baseness of his nature showed itself: And indeed, what faith could I hope for from a disloyal wretch, that, in favour of the Romans, had betrayed his own Father, the great Mithridates, and inhumanely constrained him rather to give himself Death by his own hands, than fall into his. This perfidious man, suffering himself to be gained by Phraates promises, who spitefully pursued my unhappy wand'ring life with an inflexible cruelty) at last promised either to poison me, or deliver me up. These practices were not carried so secretly, but Arsanes begun to scent them; and detesting such barbarous infidelity, after he had given me notice, we made use of the night to save ourselves, and got out of the Confines of his Kingdom, with our best diligence.  
After this we long wandered from place to place, till at last we arrived in Judaea, which then groaned under the Sceptre of Herod, who was formerly supported by Antony, and is now favoured by Augustus. And thus I have passed my disastrous Youth, wand'ring from Province to Province, and begging shelter from Court to Court, for this wretched life, which was never worth the pains I took to preserve it.  
I have hitherto Epitomised the recital of my Voyages, which had I drawn at large, must needs have tired your Attention; but now my discourse must take a larger scope to relate the Accidents befell me in Judaea, since they are the Authors which composed my present condition. I had plenty of reasons to seek a Sanctury with Herod; for, he was the greatest Enemy Phraates had, and had indeed received such sensible Affronts from that Parricide, which were all fresh in his memory, that he sought all ways to breathe his Revenge. A little before my arrival at his Court, Phraates had not only supported his Enemy Antigonus and lent him force to make War upon him, but had invaded his Dominions, spoiled his Provinces that were contiguous to Parthia, and took Hircanus and Phasolus Prisoners, the later of which (rather than remain in that Tyrant's power, chose to beat out his own brains against a Rock. Besides these he had done him other injuries, which though Herod (being then perplexed with other affairs) had little power to repay, yet he laid them up in his memory with a resontment so violent, as he would willingly have given a large part of his Dominion for an occasion to requite his mischiefs. Of this he gave a clear proof in the reception he made me, which was imputed by one that understood his humours, rather to the Reasons I have given, than any natural inclination to goodness.  
Indeed, he did heap extraordinary favours upon me, allowed me large pensions for subsistence; and not only promised me protection from my Brother, but Forces to make War upon him, and take vengeance for his cruel persecutions. I received those offers with a becoming acknowledgement: the whole Court (by his command) treating me with much Respect: and thus I began to live with tranquillity enough; I say I began: But alas! the Repose was not long-lived; for if my body enjoyed a peaceable Retreat, my Soul was encountered with a cruel War, or rather fell into the hardest Captivity that ever Soul resented. Ah! how much better had it been, that I had abandoned myself a willing prey to Phraates greedy Cruelty, than exposed myself to such rending torments as have since cost it so many Groans! How justly might I say, to avoid the least of evils, at least the shortest lived, I have thrown myself headlong upon the greatest of all Calamities; and I would say the bitterest, if the glory to suffer so did not poise the misery. In fine, Tyridates was doomed to die by a brighter Weapon than any Phraates had, and receiving the Wound that conducts him to his Tomb, he took it with a respect so profound, as judged it a Sin to murmur.  
Herod had espoused the Princess Mariam, sprung from the glorious blood of the Asmoneans and Macchabees, Grandchild to the two Kings, Hircanus and Aristobulus; indeed a Cien truly worthy of so illustrious a Stock, from which Herod following Antipater's steps, by the help of the Romans, had usurped the Judaean Crown: 'Tis possible you have heard what ways he took to arrive at that height, how his father Antipater (after he had divided the two Brothers, Hircanus and Aristobulus) at last made use of the Roman power to ruin both; and whilst Aristobulus sighed in his Chains at Rome, after he had served for an Ornament to Pompey's Triumph, he took advantage of Hircanus' weakness to invade the Sovereign Authority, and make way for his Son Herod, after the destruction of all the lawful Heirs, to mount the Throne. He had then newly made an end of the miserable Relics of the Family, Alexander the eldest Son of Aristobulus, being escaped out of Prison at Rome, and having got some Forces together, was unluckily surprised and slain by his Enemies, and the unfortunate Antigonus, his Brother (the same that fled for refuge to Phraates, and the last King of the Asmonean race) being fallen into their hands, had his head cut off by the barbarous command of Antony, who (being Herod's Friend) believed he could not otherwise assure him the Crown.  
Though Mariam had a just resentment against this Cutthroat of her Family, yet she was forced to marry him in obedience to the Princess Alexandra her Mother, and old Hircanus her Grandfather, who being escaped out of Parthia where he was Prisoner with Phaselus, lived at Jerusalem in the condition of a private man, and in that womanish softness, that made him tamely sit down with the loss of a Crown both from him and his: and thus the old man's weakness, and the woman's ambition sacrificed her to their interests: But they could never bow her soul to love that Husband, whose disproportion of manners, and inequality of birth, with the bloody outrages he had committed in butchering her Kindred, and the usurpation of a Crown, which in right belonged to young Aristobulus her Brother, induced her to regard with a version and disdain: Yet she had lived in a most admirable moderation with him, and with an excess of virtue done violence upon her inclinations, by enduring him, whom Heaven and her Parents had given her for a Husband, till by one horrid act of cruelty, she defaced all that a forced obedience had Charactered; it was the death of the Prince Aristobulus, Brother to this fair Queen, whose virtue and excellent qualities contrived his destruction; for Herod (the subtlest of men) growing Jealous of the people's inclination to this amiable Youth, that was now 18 years of age, caused him to be cruelly strangled in a Bath. There was never beheld a more goodly and accomplished thing than this young Prince. No wonder then if his Sister expressed her resentments in a sharper tone for so dear a loss, yet Herod cleared himself of it before Antony, but in such a manner, as all the World still thought him guilty, and Alexandra and her Daughter beheld him as the poor Prince's Hangman.  
The Court and Family of Herod were in this condition when I came thither, and I soon knew all the reasons why the fair Queen detested her savage Husband; it was then my eyes lost me all my repose, by lifting themselves to that divine Princess.  
The beauty of Mariam was not (like common ones) to be seen without a dangerous wonder; the eye of Man never saw any thing more perfect, and till this day I believed none but young Cleopatra capable of comparison; he that was sent by Antony to make discovery of the World's choicest Beauties, published her a piece that surpassed humanity, and (to speak my opinion freely) Madam, yourself excepted and that young Princess (Daughter to the great and unfortunate Cleopatra) I think the World cannot show another that may equal her.  
These words charged the Queen's modesty with a blush, and (interrupting Tyridates) I have not vanity enough, said she, to believe that what you call my beauty can challenge an equality with the Queen Mariam 's; I am better aequainted with her face than you imagine, for we have often viewed at our Court the Portrait both of her and her Brother, the Prince Aristobulus, and indeed acknowledged them for the exactest Pieces that ever the hand of Nature drew. It is true, replied Tyridates, the Princess Alexandra, ravished as well as others with the beauties of her children, had caused their Pictures to be drawn, and sent to divers parts of the World: but, Madam, had it been in the power of Art to represent her soul as well as her body, your eyes had yet been entertained with better wonders: all that report ever spoke of the most sublime and refined virtue, will but serve to express but an imperfect Ray of Mariam 's worth, and in those great and frequent occasions that called her to the trial, she gave proofs of it, that could not be seen and not admired, Her Constancy shined in her afflictions, her patience in the persecution which she suffered without the least repining, and that prodigious force of spirit taught her to endure a Husband, whom she had so much reason to hate, and one so contrary to all her inclinations, fixed her like an unshaken Rock, beat off all the batteries of her Malignant fortune, and took all those outrages (in which another spirit would have found out reason for revenge) with a temper, that never so much as bowed itself to the least thought that might unbeseem the Grandeur of her Courage.  
And since Mariam was thus, was it possible for Tyridates not to love her, having a heart susceptible of Love's Impression, and a soul capable to comprehend the Divine Qualities of Mariam? was it possible to defend itself by the consideration of Virtue from such a puissance, when virtue herself came and helped to give the passion Birth? Nor did it ever inspire me with a thought that might justly offend her; I loved Mariam with no intent to improve my hopes by the abuse of her virtue, but because Love had no stronger Arms than what that lent him, to make himself Master of my Soul; and I loved Mariam, because it was impossible to see, to know, and not to love her: Yet I endeavoured to put my heart in a posture of Resistance, and to the birth of my affection often opposed all the difficulties I could encounter in my intentions, the danger I threw myself into, and the remembrance of that which I owed to my Protector: but all these considerations were too feeble to defend me; one Look, one Word from Mariam, would in a moment destroy all the Fortifications against her, that had been three months a rearing: Then I began to arm the Glory against the difficulties I had to vanquish, the peril I slighted by undervaluing my Life, and excused myself to Herod with the violence Mariam did me, my affection not being an effect of my Will; and further, Madam, I confess I suffered a hope to flatter me of being let into the Queen's Bosom, by that just aversion which the King had given her; for, as I understood it, the love of a Wife to her Husband, founded either upon Inclination, merit, or obligation, is the best weapon she can take up to oppose the pursuits of a Lover; and the Queen having such strong reasons to dispense with all those ties, had now no other defence than for herself, singly considered, no fear of remorse left for a Husband, who had but too much merited all the revenge she was capable of taking: and from that time I began to call in these apprehensions, my Passion grew able to corrupt the most virtuous inclination, to render me ingrateful to my Benefactor, and to induce me now no more to regard him as my Protector from Phraates, but as he that murdered the Brother, the Father, and Grandfather of Mariam: Then Jealousy began to join with my affection, and I could not reflect upon the advantages he possessed, without deeply sighing, and a thousand times crying out, that the Favours of that fair Queen were more lawfully due to him, who was willing to buy them with his best services and dearest blood, than to the man who had paid nothing for them but Indignities and injuries; When Love first entered my heart it used me gently, hiding those cruel Ideas of torment he hath since inflicted: but now it hath taken an entire possession, and doth exercise an authority, which leaves no liberty to act by any other motion than his own; all my thoughts, all my discourse, all my actions had no other subject but Mariam, nay my very sleep (whose proper office it is by benumbing the Senses to charm all our Cares) would not quiet mine, still representing to the eyes of my Soul, when the other were closed, the Divine Perfections of Mariam.  
This continual fixing my Spirits robbed me of all repose, and produced effects that were soon observed both in my face and behaviour; and, though the care I took to hide it, kept the true cause undiscovered, yet it could not hinder the whole Court from taking notice of my deep melancholy, accompanied with an unnatural Paleness, a change of my Humour, and an alteration of my Health.  
Arsanes and my Governor, (from whom I never before kept any thing concealed) in this were Strangers to my thoughts; and I preserved the disguise with my best Care, rather out of respect to my Passion and the cause of it, than any doubt of their Affection or Fidelity.  
In the mean time my access was so easy, that I daily saw the Queen: For the hopes which Herod cherished (by my means to revenge himself of the King of Parthia) had made him sweeten his savage humour on purpose to endear me with a kind entertainment. A thousand times was my tongue ready before that adorable Princess, not openly to declare my Passion, for I had not the daring to take such a liberty before a Virtue that made me tremble; but at least to let her know that no man had a more passionate Interest in her fortune, or could pay down his life with greater joy than myself, to purchase Solace for her affections: But still fear arrested my intentions, and I have shaked at the thought of my design like a timorous Soldier at the sight of an Enemy, or his approaches to an Assault; yet I expressed part of that in looks, which my tongue would fain have said at large, and then if she chanced to cast her eyes upon mine, and take them in the fact, they lost all their assurance, and were either too feeble to receive the beams she shot, without astonishment, or (confounded with the surprisal) threw themselves at the feet of this Divine Princess, and seemed by that submiss action to ask pardon for the fault.  
The Queen had soon discovered the truth, if she had not been prevented by so many cruel Cares, that would not permit her to fasten an observing thought upon any of my particular actions. I was one day with the Princess Alexandra her Mother, and as I kept a complacence full of respect in my behaviour to them, by the help of an opinion which they had conceived to my advantage, they began to repose much confidence in me: Alexandra being of a boiling spirit, and a temper which wanted much of the sweetness and patience the Queen her Daughter was endued with, abandoned herself to the resentment, which was yet fresh for the death of Aristobulus, exclaimed against the cruelty of Herod, in most violent terms, and deplored her own and her Daughter's condition in words full of passion and transport; from the injuries she received in her Son's death, and the ruin of her Kindred; her bitter complaints passed to the deadly jealousy of Herod, and the fatal effects it had like to have wrought, by the Order he had given to his Uncle Joseph, which (at the brink of his going to appear before Anthony at Laodicea) commanded him to kill Mariam, in case that voyage proved fatal to him; Alexandra went on with vehemence in recounting divers other effects of her Son-in-law's cruelty, and during all the discourse, the Queen never so much as opened her mouth, but only to let go some redoubled sighs, and made her tears keep company with her Mother's words, which gave fresh lustre to her beauty: Oh Gods! what new deep wounds did the sight of that lovely sorrow give me! how possible it was to behold my Divine Queen in that estate, without suffering all her sorrows! I had now no longer power to dissemble; and losing all remembrance of my present condition, and the danger whereinto I threw myself headlong, by provoking Herod against me, I blindly abandoned myself to the motions of my passion, and casting my eyes (moist as the Queens) upon hers, that were letting fall their dejected looks to the Earth, Good Gods! cried I, sighing, is it possible you should submit the most accomplished piece that ere you made to so much affliction, and must I owe safety to a man whose actions have given me so much horror? I presently repent that I had suffered these words to escape me, fearing I had declared myself too far; but after I perceived I was understood by none but the Princesses, and that they appeared unmoved, I recovered my assurance; and a little after the Princess Alexandra being retired to the other end of the Chamber to confer with some Persons, and seeing myself alone with the Queen by her bed's side, I made a strong assault upon my fear to recover my Discourse, and beholding the Tears that still crept upon her fair Cheeks, Would to Heaven, Madam, said I, that all the blood I have could stay the recourse of those precious tears you spill. Ah! with what joy should I resign it, how gladly sacrifice my Life for the repose of yours!  
These words (wholly compassionate as they were) were ascribed by the Queen to nought but the Compassion I took of her Misfortunes; yet they called her from the Contemplation of her miseries which had seized her thoughts, and raising up her eyes to mine, with a look full of a sweet acknowledgement; I should be sorry, said she, to buy the quiet of my life with the danger of yours; and I have yet more right to my own miseries, than to your afflictions, we are both persecuted, you by a Brother, and I by a Husband: your resentments I cannot disapprove, but I can admit none that are unlawful against my Husband; and if his actions do frame our calamities, 'tis fit I should believe that Heaven makes use of them to chastise our Crimes. By them it hath let fall its wrath upon the head of our deplorable Family, and therefore if any complaint breaks from me, it makes its way through the weakness of my Nature, and must be owned for the Child of Justice. O miraculous Virtue, cried I, interrupting her, It is requisite I should redouble my griefs to see you plunged in such deep Calamity: My Misfortunes are not insupportable, replied the Queen, if you would find the way to understand them right, and if you knew the God which I adore, you would likewise know the consolation I taste in my sufferings, which now you cannot apprehend: If he hath given me Herod for a Punishment as well as a Husband, I ought to receive him from his hands as both: and if he ordains me to pardon the injuries done by the most cruel and remote Enemies, sure he would have me forget those with an entire resignation I received from him, to whom he hath pleased to tie me in a knot so sacred. It is that, Madam, answered I, that makes me hold my condition unfortunate, that Heaven hath raised you up an Enemy and a Persecutor, against whom I cannot offer you my Sword and Life, without offending your Virtue; that your high raised Reflections cannot be combated by a man that reveres you; nor can I censure the consideration you keep for the King your Husband, since in his Arms I found my refuge, nor do him any ill office without ingratitude: but if the interest which I take in your wrongs, the admiration I have of your virtue, and resentments much more pressing and particular, make me find in your afflictions a Subject,— at these words I stopped, and considering how the insensible transport of my passion had carried me into terms of discovery, I stayed in an abrupt silence, without conducting my words to any period.  
The Queen observing my strange breaking off, looked upon me, and doubtless either expected what was behind to close my Discourse, or would have asked the cause of my sudden silence; when the Princess her Mother came back again to my rescue from the perplexity wherein my imprudence had engaged me: yet I think we had spent more time in this entertainment, if the arrival of some Ladies had not interrupted us; the principal of which was Salome the Sister of Herod. It was not amity that brought her to visit the Princesses, for she hated them mortally; but having a dexterous and artificial spirit, she made it bow to her Interests, and knowing the power Mariam had (as unfortunate as she was) in the King's affections, she forced herself to appear officious, and covered her malicious thoughts with a black dissimulation. The ill-will she already bore to the Queen, was augmented by a mischance, which I must now recount; for (since you have ordained me to give you the truth of my Fortune, stripped of all disguise) I am forced to tell you, Madam, (though the relation may offend Modesty) that my mishap, and no other cause, made me be loved of Salome. I had already observed her affection by divers signs, but was easily persuaded to slight my discovery, either by a just anticipation which chained me to another, the meanest part of whom was infinitely above all that Salome could boast lovely, or by an imperfect knowledge I had already got of her dangerous humour; however I was content to answer her extraordinary Caresses, with such a civility as I believed was due to the Sister of Herod; and if I received them at first with any satisfactions from that time wherein my life grew considerable, because I had given it to the Qu. & had begun to seek all that sweetness I could fancy in her only. I had scarcely allowed one single regard either to the face or actions of Salome.  
For that day she cut off my further discourse with the Queen, but I had liberty enough to renew it in those that succeeded; the Court was not then very large, every man fearing to provoke Herod's jealous and suspicious spirit; but in all the Converse I had with her, fear still fettered my tongue, and I had not the confidence to disclose my thoughts further than what my eyes, or sometimes a sudden change of colour could express. In the mean time Herod (either through generosity, or those reasons I rendered) still permitted me those liberties, when Fortune presented an occasion to improve my credit with him.  
Malichus, who commanded the Arabians, an ancient enemy to Herod, with a powerful Army invaded the Frontiers of Judea, committing a thousand Acts of Hostility; it was since believed he kept intelligence with old Hircanus, who, (as I told you) lived at Jerusalem in the condition of a private man, without any craft or cognizance of affairs, and with the Princess Alexandra: however it was, Herod uniting his dispersed forces with exceeding diligence, had soon gathered a considerable Army; and not being able to go in person, because of some troubles he suspected at home, besides his intended voyage to go visit Augustus Caesar (then at Rhodes) he put his Brother Pheroras in the head of it. I was ashamed that I had employed all my youth in running away from death, and desiring leave of the King that I might accompany his Brother in that expedition; he not only consented, but gave me the command of all the Cavalry; I parted very well pleased with the employment, and endeavoured to sweeten the grief I took to leave Mariam, with a hope to merit her esteem by some action of Valour. I will not trouble you with the particulars of this War, and shall only content myself to tell you, that by an excess of good fortune I acquired a reputation large enough; in the Engagements made with my Troops, I defeated the Enemy in divers Encounters, which I had still the hap to Signalise by some personal action. In one Combat, which was obstinately disputed with a Squadron of our Troops, I killed the Brother of Malichus with my own hand, and a few days after, having surprised half the Enemy's Army at a pass upon a River, I charged it with 4000 Horse I had then with me, with so strange a success, that we killed above 8000 Arabians upon the place, and routed the rest with such a grand confusion, that they left all their Baggage to our soldiers.  
By this and the precedent encounters, I had acquired as much credit in the Army as I could well desire, and Herod receiving the news, conceived an opinion of me so advantageous, as within a short time after, having called home his Brother Pheroras to the Government of the State, during his voyage to Augustus, he desired me to accept the Command of the Army in Chief, rather choosing to repose so weighty a trust in me (though young, and a Stranger) than in any of his old and more experimented Captains. After the departure of Pheroras I had the sole Command; and Fortune that had favoured my beginnings, did so well second her kindness in what followed, that at last I entirely chased the Arabians out of Judea, after they had lost above 1000 lives in divers encounters. Thus, when all was pacified upon the frontiers, and we had no more enemies to combat, after the Garrisons were fortified, I returned towards Jerusalem, less satisfied with the applause was prepared me for my good success, than with the hope of being suddenly restored the sight of Mariam, and to see her at such a time, when I believed the service I had done her Country, had purchased some esteem in her thoughts.  
But oh Gods! how surprised was I at a sad report I met with upon the way, which told me that Herod was departed from Rhodes, with design to gain the same credit with Augustus, that he had with Antony; but before his departure, had caused old Hircanus to be strangled, out of suspicion that he kept intelligence with Malichus, and that great Princess his Grandchild with her Mother to be shut up in a Castle, or rather a close Prison near the City, under the Guard of Sohemus and Joseph, with express order to restrain their liberty, and forbid them all converse till he came back again. This News not only moderated the contentment I took in my return, and the successful event of my expedition, but possessed my spirit with astonishment, horror & compassion. I was amazed at the cruelty of Herod, who holding his Life and Sceptre of Hircanus' goodness, though he was then fourscore, had not the patience to stay till Nature would relinquish him to his Tomb; the horror of this act, and the sad pity I had for the affliction and captivity of Mariam, bruised my Soul with a grief so weighty, as I was ready to give over all resistance.  
Arsaves, and my Governor Polites, seeing my sorrows swell to such a proportion, as they thought too big for my interests in Herod's house, earnestly entreated me to undisguise the cause of it. At first I resisted; but in fine, considering the little reason I had to distrust them, after they had given such clear proofs of their affection, I abandoned my secret to their discretion, and avowed my violent passion for Mariam. This confession surprised them, (though well knowing what charms the Queen possessed) and after they had in vain represented all the reason they could make to extinguish my flame, they disposed themselves to serve me at the peril of their lives. I was a little comforted with the protestations they made me, and began to judge their advice not unserviceable for the conduct of my desires. I finished the rest of my journey, with such a settled Melancholy, that the reception I had from Pheroras and the rest of the Jews, was incapable to moderate it; What, said I (when I was alone, or had only my two confidents about me) is Mariam (to whom all should resign their liberties) become a Captive? and can the Gods permit the most perfect piece that ever they put their hands to, to be given up to the cruelties of such an Inhuman? Mariam now weeps the loss of a Grandfather with that of her liberty; and the feeble Tyridates weeps too like her, without offering other succours than a few womanish tears; he keeps his arms across, while the Monsters tear his heart in the person of Mariam; add then how weak the reasons are that will not let him arm himself against the Hangman! A Tiger! a thousand times more cruel than Phraates, no longer my Protector. but my Persecutor, my Enemy. Savage Monster, too too unworthy of those dear advantages thou possessest, trust no further to that obligation which till now hath tied me to thy interests, and believe it, I am more injured by thee in Mariamne's wrongs, than obliged for my shelter; for her I will draw my sword against thee and all the world, nor can it be ingratitude to defend Virtue from the oppression of Tyranny.  
These were the thoughts I conversed with, for this last effect of Herod's inhumanity had so galled my spirit, that it forsook all the considerations I had for him; and now I made no scruple (for the service or revenge of Mariam) to do him the worst of mischiefs; Arsanes (to whom I showed these thoughts naked) begged of me to cover them, since their publishing might procure my ruin without the least advantage to Mariam; in the mean time I told him it was impossible for me to live and not see her, that I was resolved to try all the ways (though never so dangerous) to compass it. Arsanes long opposed this intention: but, seeing no possibility of dissuasion, resolved to seek some means to serve me in it.  
He was very well known to Sohemus; besides I called to mind that I had done him a courtesy with Herod, in a business wherein he stood in great need of my favour; this gave Arsanes a belief, it might make way for the obtaining part of my desires, and indeed we found a greater facility than we durst hope: For Mariam (against the power of whose charms there was no resistance) had so perfectly gained Sohemus heart, as he had no passion more powerful than a desire to please her, and would not have scrupled to hazard fortune & life itself to serve her; he was very willing to have set her at liberty, and have followed her fortune, if his companion in the charge had not been suspicious it would betray him to the rage of Herod. At the first proposition Arsanes made him let me see the Queen, he showed much willingness to oblige me, only scrupled the difficulties of gaining his companions consent to my satisfaction, and therefore thought it unsafe to hazard the Proposition. Arsanes gave the desire I had to see the Queen, no other Title than pity of her miseries, and so made my Passion pass for an effect of Generosity.  
Sohemus demanded the rest of that day to seek expedients to content me, and on the morrow came and told him he was resolved to satisfy me, though he foresaw some danger threatened the enterprise. Arsanes entreated him not to impart our design to the Queen, for fear (said he) she should oppose it with some timorous consideration; but he found it more difficult to make that Request prevail with Sohemus, than any he had yet mentioned, (so entirely was that honest spirit at the Queen's devotion) but at last clearing his doubts with a belief that I would bring no other intention, than to serve her, and that I would not have sought an occasion so perilous to make my Visit, if I were not assured my sight would not be unwelcome, they resolved then, that the following Evening I should be ready at a certain place near the Castle, where Sohemus had appointed, and there he promised him about two hours within Evening to come and conduct me to the Queen's presence: He made choice of that hour, because the Queen had then her Chamber free, and was not importuned with joseph's Visits, who, at that time, was usually retired to his own. Besides, my face was so well known to all the Court, that no disguise without the aid of darkness could have concealed it.  
There was much hazard in this Enterprise, as well for what might then have befallen me, as for the fatal consequences, if Herod should ever light upon the discovery: Yet I not only slighted all that fear could allege, but waited the wished hour with an impatience that took all those that preceded it for redious years. At last it came, and when the Night had spread all her Sables, I left Jerusalem, only followed by Arsanes and my Governor, and having not above a hundred furlongs to ride, I soon arrived at the place desired.  
Sohemus kept his word, it being that day his turn to command the Castle, and therefore free for him to go in and out when he pleased; he came to find me, only attended by one of his Guard, which was a young man, in whom he reposed an entire confidence. Besides, he chose him from all the rest, because his Age and Shape did not much disagree with mine. The plot was, I should put on his clothes, and he stay with Arsanes in mine, that those that saw me enter with Sohemus, might take me for the same man that went out with him, my face being hidden from those in the night's black Masque. When I had got on the Guard Casaque, he led me to a Gate of the Castle, flanked with high towers, and surrounded with a deep Ditch, and commanding the Bridge (by a signal given) to be let down, he conducted me into the Court without a Torch, having left an express order with those that guarded the Gate, not to light any thing; who seeing me enter with him, never examined my face, or regarded whether I was their Companion or not; yet he would not lead me by the great stairs, nor carry me through the Guard Hall, but conducting me up a little pair of stairs, and so through a Gallery, where there stood a Sentinel (which he made a show to come on purpose to relieve, and put me in his place) he led me to the Door of the Antichamber.  
By this time I confess all my Courage had almost forsaken me; for though no danger could ever instruct me what was meant by the fear of Death, yet I trembled to think I might displease the Queen by this bold intrusion; and then unseasonably reflecting on what was past, I almost repented the Enterprise, and was divers times about to stay Sohemus, and so return back without seeing the Queen.  
At the name of Sohemus, the Door of the Antichamber was presently opened; and because of the inclination he had always expressed to the Queen's interests, he had a free access to her at all hours. When we entered her Chamber, she was upon her knees by the Bed's side, praying with an ardent Devotion to the God she adored, and the Princess her Mother was newly retired to her Cabinet. The noise we made coming in, made her turn her Head that way; and having spied us, she asked Sohemus if he had any thing to say. I did not give Sohemus' time to answer, but approaching with a troubled posture, I fell upon my knees before her, and taking one of her fair hands, joined it to my Lips with an ardour so vehement, as bereft me of the use of speech. The Queen (finding this Action too familiar, and too passionate for a Guard) at first repulsed me with some disdain; but afterwards suspecting a part of the truth, and beholding my Face with a serious Eye, by the help of those Lights which were set by her beds-side, she knew me. It was no mean astonishment wherewith this sight surprised her, and recoiling some paces back, after she had withdrawn her hand from mine: Ah! Tyridates, said she, what mean you? to what a Danger have you exposed yourself? Danger, Madam, replied I, Ah! that the Gods would confront me with a thousand times more, that I might find occasion to show you how mean a thing I think my life in relation to your service. My calamities (replied the Queen, engaging me to rise) are too much in debt to your compassion: but I cannot yet quit the fear you have given me, and the knowledge I have of Herod 's humour, makes me wish from my soul, you had not tempted this peril to see me. I beseech you, Madam, said I, do not keep those fears for me; for believe it, while this condition lasts, to which your misfortunes have reduced me, I shall neither fear Herod 's hatred, nor desire his Amity. I have a long time considered him as a King of whom I hold my life, but must now know him for a man, that hath used that life a thousand times more cruelly than death itself would have done from which the retreat he gave me hath possibly defended me. Till now the obligation disputed with the outrage, and in the person of Mariam 's Persecuter I found my Protector; but at last, Madam, the resentments of what I owe him, have quitted what they held within me to such as have a juster Tttle; and these last injuries which he Printed in your Grandfather's Murder, and your own cruel Captivity, have strangled all those considerations, which till now my heart suffered to speak in his behalf, and have brought me to ask Orders at your feet, which I vow to execute without condition or reservation. Be not loath then, Madam, to ordain me all that may be done in your Quarrel, and if you please, believe that I will not only shut my eyes upon all sorts of considerations; but trample upon all difficulties that shall offer to withstand me, when once fortified with the honour of your Commands.  
While I spoke in this manner, the Queen regarded me attentively, and though she knew the malicious heart of her Husband, and remembered how often she had been deceived by such as acted the part of officious persons, and made use of some such terms as mine to sound her intentions, with design to carry the Report to the King, I was so happy as not to be suspected of so base an ambush; and of this she assured me by these words: I have too good an opinion of you, said she, and can too well distinguish the Princes of Arsaces' blood from cheap and base persons, to suspect the dissimulation wherewith divers others have betrayed me.  
I know your words parted from a true compassion, and such generous motions as are familiar with persons of your extraction: besides, you have given proofs of too great a virtue to leave me the shadow of such a thought; and (to witness the confidence I have in you) I will open my heart to you with a most entire freedom. It is true, though Heaven hath given me Herod for a Husband, I cannot love him, and indeed I should be rather insensible than constant or loyal, if the Death of my Grandfather Aristobulus, of my Father Alexander, of my Uncle Antigonus, of my Brother Aristobulus, and this last of my Grandfather Hircanus, should be remembered without stirring my soul against him that murdered them, and destroyed the Royal House of the Asmoneans; besides these known injuries, I have received some more particular, but not less sensible. There comes not a day wherein I do not look for a Knife at my Throat, and this bloody man, at his departure for Rhodes, hath given the same command to Sohemus, that he did before to his Uncle Joseph, to kill me if the Voyage proved unfortunate. I have now freely represented my deplorable condition with Herod, but I must tell you (with the same truth) that (as much monster as he is) he is yet my Husband, that my apprehensions of his injuries are not more prevalent than the rules of my Duty, and that I am not permitted to desire a revenge against him, which Heaven hath reserved for its own appointment. If my miseries come once to be pitied by our Sovereign Master, he will find power to release me of them, and if it be his pleasure they should still continue, I shall endeavour so to suffer for the love of him, as I may be rendered more worthy of his Love. Behold Tyridates, the estate of my condition, with the temper of my thoughts, I am deeply in your score for the propriety you claim in my Misfortunes: but let me now beg you will give it over, lest the dangerous pity should at last prove fatal to its owner. Ah! might it please the Gods, (cried I, wholly transported) that your evils might be brought off, with the cruelest death that Herod is capable of inventing, with what glad heart should I run to embrace those glorious torments, which possibly might procure me some small acknowledgement in yours! how fair would be my Destiny to pay down my life for this adorable Princess, to whom all Lives, all Hearts ought to be sacrificed! These words, with the Passion that helped to pronounce them, opened the Queen's eyes, and showed her (by a prompt reflection on what was passed) that transports so violent could not spring from a naked pity: this Discovery called up a blush into her face, and having silently beheld me with an action that betrayed some trouble: Tyridates, said she, do you well consider what you say? She let fall these words in so severe an accent, that it struck such terror into me, as I lost all my assurance; and (in stead of answering) fell to consider how imprudently I had opened my breast; but I had kept too much passion to keep the rest still disguised; and in this uproar of thoughts, (tossed with love, grief and despair) I let myself fall at the Queen's feet, embracing and kissing them a thousand times over, without so much power as could utter one word; by this action clearly confirming the suspicion my words had given her. Oh Gods! how sensibly she was touched! how violent were her first apprehensions to proceed from so sweet a Soul! She took a long time to weigh the resolution was fittest to be taken, and I (in the mean time) the advantage of her silence and immobility, to rally my scattered Spirits. Madam, said I, (keeping my hold at her feet, without daring to lift my eyes to her Visage) if my Tongue have betrayed my Soul, and contrary to my intent) displayed a Passion which my whole Life should have preserved a Secret, ordain me all the pains that are due to it; and I vow by all the Gods to suffer them without a murmur; to you I will not justify a Passion, which otherwise might call to its own purity to defend it. I will not tell you 'tis impossible to look upon you, and not incur the fault I have committed, nor that the silence of divers years, have given some proofs of my respect. No, I am Criminal if I have contracted your Anger, and am worthy of the most cruel Punishments, if I have been capable to displease you. I had gone further, if the now resolved Queen had not stayed my Progress, and repulsing me with one hand, while she carried the other to her Face to hide some changes there: Tyridates, said she, you are yet more culpable than you believe, and if you had known me well, you would never have granted yourself the Licence to give me the Displeasure I have now received. I will not noise your Folly, because I know Herod 's Humour, which doubtless would destroy you for it; and I pardon him the bloody injuries he hath so often done me, so I forgive the Offence you have so lately committed.  
At these words she rose from her Chair, and calling Sohemus (who was discoursing with her Maids in the Antichamber) commanded him to conduct me presently back, and so resolving to hear me no more, she retired into her Mother's Cabinet. Oh Gods! in what an estate was I, when I saw myself thus deserted, in what a strange fashion I followed Sohemus, when he led me out of the Castle the same way we entered it? I had scarce the power to embrace him at our parting, or to give him thanks for the Courtesy he had done me. I found my men got to horse, and returned to Jerusalem with a melancholy darker than the night's blackest shades, and with a countenance which I think little differed from that of a Condemned man.  
I would scarce hear the comforts Arsanes offered me (to whom I had recounted my disaster) but passed the rest of the night in the most cruel inquietudes that ever tore a Soul; I could not remember the incensed looks of my Divine Princess, without calling in the same fear that seized me at the first effects of her anger; nor think of the displeasure I had given her, without letting myself sink almost under the sorrow I resented; all the words she spoke came flocking to my memory; but it galled me to think she should put my offence in the same balance with Herod's villainies. Ah unjust Mariam! said I, how unskilful you are in discerning Injuries! Could you have judged aright, you would have found little cause to associate the cruelties of Herod with the oversights of Tyridates. Herod hath wrested the Crown from your Family, Herod still blushes with the blood of your nearest Kindred; Herod gives daily orders for your own Death, and Tyridates gives you his Heart, his Soul, and himself entire. Sure this Offence is not of a Nature so heinous, as those you have received of that Miscreant, and methinks you need not the same patience to endure them; but why said I (repenting my words) why do I justify my Crime? Is it not true that I am faulty, since my rashness hath merited Mariamnes anger? I ought to consider her as a Divinity sublimed above the reach of humane thoughts; I should tremble before her virtue, and if it were impossible to see her without falling in love with so much beauty both of Soul and Body, yet I should have suffered those glorious pains without publishing, and not have improved my Misfortune by my indiscreet and rash discovery.  
In such thoughts as these I passed the Night, and divers other days that followed it, in which space I often saw Salome, Pheroras, with the chief of the Judean Court, who strove among themselves, who should treat me with most Caresses for the service I had done their Country; but neither their company nor their kindness could ease the evils which my love inflicted, nor sweeten the sorrow I took for the choler and captivity of Mariam: But about that time there came News to Jerusalem, that Herod was triumphantly returned from Augustus, that by an artificial Oration full of an affected generosity, he had so gained upon the spirit of that great Emperor, as it procured him a specious entertainment, and got him little less in his amity, than he had before in the affections of Antony. Those that had an interest in his good success, were more overjoyed at the news, in which (a few days after) they were confirmed, when they saw him arrive with a proud train at his heels, and read in his erected looks the satisfaction he received in that Voyage.  
There was made him a magnificent reception, and (I mingling myself with those that went to meet him) he received me with extraordinary caresses, called me the valiant Defender of Judea, and promised a grateful remembrance of the services I had rendered to his Crown. But alas! how little was I sensible of his Offers and Civilities? And though indeed I could not but confess he had put me in his debt, yet the love of Mariam, and the resentment of her wrongs stifled all his obligations. The same day he arrived, he restor●● her liberty, and burning with Love, could not forbear to visit her in the same place which had been her Prison, where he spent the night with her, and the next day brought her back with him to the City, with many open professions of a most ardent affection.  
I understood by Sohemus, that at that interview, he had made her a most passionate Discourse, and after he had excused the death of Hircanus with a necessity that constrained him so to prevent the design he had to ruin him, he deeply protested, that the abridgement of her freedom, was only meant to secure her person from the attempts of such, whose disaffection in his absence might hazard her safety, and to disarm the designs of some persons that were likely to make use of hers and her Mother's presence (whose turbulent spirit he was well acquainted with) to authorise seditiòn, and stir up troubles in the State.  
The wise Queen received this discourse with a becoming temper; and, if she could not entirely hide her distastes, she dissembled part of them, lest they should prove as fatal to Sohemus, as they had been to Joseph. The Court was then more glorious than ever; the King highly pleased with the success of his Affairs: and (having nothing else to subdue that might keep him from getting above the reach of Fortune but the spirit of Mariam) he sought all sorts of occasions to divertize her; but if the Queen (whose griefs were gone too deep to be sweetened with the vain shadow of pleasure) took little notice of it, I was not less incapable than she, of tasting any jollity; and my remembrance kept the deep graven Characters of my Love and her Anger so fresh in my Soul, as all the splendour and pomp of Herod's Court wanted power to charm them. I still saw her every day, because she forbade it not; but I scarce durst open my mouth in her presence, scarce lift up my eyes to her Face, instructing all my actions to inform how deeply the fear to displease her was engraven in my heart; yet neither her looks, nor her actions expressed any sign of aversion: indeed she had a Soul too beautiful, too sweet an inclination to loath a man, who had only offended with Affection, since she had much ado to return hatred where it was deserved by such bloody Injuries: but believing she could not hear my Love plead farther, without offending Virtue, she avoided all occasions of Discourse as much as possible; and though she still spoke to me with much affability, yet she never did so but in Company, and so contrived it, that we never exchanged words without a witness: though this behaviour of hers could not give me an entire satisfaction, yet it left me no cause of complaint; and the knowledge I had of her admirable Virtue, having extinguished with my hopes, a part of those flames her Beauty had kindled, I learned to think my Passion sufficiently rewarded by the esteem she had of me: Indeed there was never any person loved with less interest; and with Truth I may say, I loved Mariam for herself alone; nor in all the process of my Passion did I ever consider Tyridates.  
In this manner I lived a whole year; and though my eyes did all the Messages of my Love, yet she might easily read in all my Actions, that it had lost no ardour; and that my sufferings were therefore more cruel, because they stood in awe of Respect.  
At last my perseverance, linked with discretion (which she knew by a thousand marks) touched her with compassion; I say compassion, for Love could never be admitted: And what she did since in my favour, did all proceed from a motion so purely generous, as the most perfect Virtue was engaged to commend it; nor could it be censured by any without Injustice. Her heart which was neither Stone nor Brass, suffered itself to be softened with pity; but it was never capable of an impression not conformed to the severe Rules of her Duty: she could not see a Prince languishing so many years, a Prince dying for her, but dying in a fashion so respectful and obliging, and dying without complaining of the cause of his death, or of death itself, and not give some proofs that Nature made her sensible: but she would rather have suffered him to die; nay, died herself, than let in the least thought to her Soul of pitying him, to the prejudice of her virtue: I was so happy in the conduct of my Passion, and had carried so much caution in all my Actions, that Herod (the most jealous and distrustful of all men) had not yet the least suspicion of me; and this discretion was not undervalved by the Queen.  
I was one day in her Company with the King Pheroras, Salome, and some other of the chief Courtiers in the Palace-garden, where we had walked a long time, and where I had done my best to evade the pursuits of Salome, who had then been trying (having too much courage to give me her naked Passion) to make me spy it in her Actions, and understand it by a thousand ambiguous Discourses; when the King, who had walked all this time with the Queen alone, being obliged by some important Affairs to retire, he called me to him, and giving me the Queen's hand, which till then himself had held: I leave you to Prince Tyridates, saith he, and I cannot put that which I tender more dearthan myself into better hands than his: Try, if you please, to divert her from her deep Melancholy. To these words I returned no other Answer, but an action ●●ll of reverence and respect; and, considering how my condition stood with the Queen. I durst not adventure to take her hand, till she tendered it herself, with a countenance that did put on a world of sweetness: And thus I helped her to walk, without daring either to open my mouth, or to look upon her. Her behaviour was a long time like mine; but at last she broke silence, and took this opportunity to declare what her heart had for me. Tyridates, said she, if the King knew your intentions, he would not put me into your hands with so much confidence, and since they were known to me, I ought to have hindered it; I could easily have done so, if my will had consented; and probably I had too, if I had not believed I might permit your converse, and acquaint you with my thoughts, without interessing what I owe to him or myself. Know then Tyridates, that the first notice I had of your malidy gave me some resentment against you, but the progress of it compassion; I have truly pitied the estate you are in, and cannot, without grief, see a Prince (to whom Heaven hath given such excellent qualities) pass his life in a condition so miserable. But in fine, Tyridates, what are your pretences? and if you have judged me worthy of your esteem, what can you hope for of me? Think you I can licence in your favour the least Act that may satisfy your Passion? I say the least: for, I did believe you could harbour a thought to my Dishonour, I would look upon you as a Monster, as a mortal Enemy: Do you think the little content I have with Herod, and the remembrance of the wrongs he hath done me, can turn my affections upon another, because less worthy of my aversion? Is it upon this thought you build your hopes? if so, Tyridates, disabuse yourself; and believe, that if Heaven hath made me miserable, by submitting me to this cruel man, I will never consent to merit my misfortunes by my actions; though my forlorn hap hath married me to him, it shall never match me to his Crimes: I would not be so ungrateful to the goodness of Heaven, that is ever sending Comfort to my Miseries; nor so unworthy of your estimation. For my sake, Tyridates, consider these Truths, since they are represented with as much mildness, as much affection as I can keep for you with Reason's leave: call up the greatness of your courage, to give a brave assault upon yourself, and propose this ruinous passion to your thoughts as an Enemy you ought to fear, as an Enemy that would destroy you, and probably me too, unless you vanquish it. The Queen ended with these words, which I heard with admiration; and during the Discourse, having rallied part of the confidence fear had scattered, I made it serve me to answer these terms.  
I am unworthy, Madam, of this favour you have given me; and since I have merited your Displeasure, 'tis fit I should perish for the expiation, rather than reserve myself for such a pity as you lately mentioned; nor should my tongue ever hazard a second purchase of your indignation, if that generous bounty, which keeps company with the rest of your admirable Virtues, did not allow me liberty to justify my thoughts before you, I will adventure then to tell you, That Love (as I apprehend it) can neither be odious nor considerable to the person beloved, but by the effects it produceth. since of itself it is obliging and advantageous, even to the Creatures least capable of apprehension; if my passion had hatched any desire within me contrary to your virtue, you might detest it as a Criminal, as an Enemy that would poison the purity of your Soul. But if it shall never inspire any other than such as shall instruct me to revere those admirable qualities the Gods have given you, to interest myself in your fortune, and sacrifice myself for your interests where will you find a just occasion to condemn it? Is it a Crime for Tyridates to do the homage of a pure veneration, to the divine Beauties and Perfections of Mariam? Is it a Crime for Tyridates, to give up all his thoughts, and dedicate his whole time to this employment? And is it a Crime for Tyridates, to long for an occasion, with the price of his Blood and Life, to buy repose for Mariam? Madam, if I have other Thoughts, other Desires than these, punish me with all the rigour your first Resentments inspired you with; and let the Divine Powers join with yours to complete me the most miserable of all men. But if you find in my Affection all the Innocence you require, in the God's name, Madam, give me leave to carry it to my Tomb; it is a necessity which will never endure to be dispensed with, a Favour which I conjure you by the remembrance of all that you hold most dear, to grant me: And if the place were cleared of witnesses, that I might be permitted to ask it at your feet; I would never rise from thence till I had obtained it.  
These words, and the vehemence wherewith I pronounced them, wrought upon the generous and tender Spirit of the Queen, and stirred up such Thoughts as took her some time before she could get them out into Answer; at length she disposed herself to it; and as she was beginning, we found ourselves at the end of an Alley, where turning to continue our Walk, we spied Salome and the rest of the Company so near us, as the Queen saw she should not have time to discharge her heart, and seeing her Company stayed to let us pass, before we quitted the place, she thus replied: Tyridates, If your Thoughts be such as you say, I can find no just cause of Offence: but were they yet more innocent, I must counsel you, and do with all my Soul crave of you (if it be possible) to discard them from your Heart, since they cannot be but ruinous to your Repose and mine.  
She said no more, and whether it were that she was willing to pursue this Discourse no further, or that she suspected the malicious spirit of Salome might ptobably raise a bad comment upon our privacy she joined with the rest of the Company, and would separate no more.  
From this day I dated a happy change in my condition, and believed my estate much more advantageous than formerly. The Queen (though she disapproved my research, and saw the continuance of it with displeasure) yet she endured it with a most noble patience, that would neither suffer her to banish, nor hate a Prince who adored her with a Devotion so pure and unbiased, as nothing in it could be found fit to censure; and never hoping to advance farther in her favour, I learned to stay my content upon what I had. This began to restore my spirits, and recall my colour, and if my Face still showed some discontent, it had a root in the Queen's miseries, and not mine.  
The condition of this great Princess was deplorable, and though the King loved her with an almost enraged passion, such was her aversion to all the endearing passages of his love, as She took them for so many effects of Heaven's indignation; and though her virtuous resolution held her to the severe rules of her Duty, her great courage could not be pliable to such caresses as she believed not due to the destroyer of her Family, and a man yet crimsoned with the blood of her nearest Kindred: these disdains sometimes raised such tempests in the King, as he was often ready to pour them upon her as the last effects of his fury; but then would Love step in to check Anger, and, taking the reins from those raging Transports, which he had suffered to get uppermost, rendered him more soft and submiss than ever; and sent him to seek that with Prayers and Tears, which he could not obtain with all his menaces.  
We were one day in the King's Chamber, whither he had invited the Queen: and they standing together at a Window: after some discourse which we heard not, he proffered to kiss her: but the Queen (whether she thought such condescension injurious to Modesty in so great a Company, or in effect, followed the motions of a just Hatred) recoiled some steps back, and turned away her head with disdain enough. The King was so galled with this Action, especially appearing before so many witnesses, as all the power he could make was not capable to hide his Passion; and beholding the Queen with eyes sparkling with rage, and a Countenance on which Fury had spread itself: You are unworthy, said he, both of the Honour was offered you, and all those that went before it: Go, get you out of my Chamber, and if you do not remember the destiny of your Fathers, remember that I promise to make you know him for your King, whom you now scorn to acknowledge for your Husband. The Queen returned no other answer to these cruel words than a disdainful look, which more provoked him; and saluting the Company, without change of countenance, quitted the Chamber to retire to her own. The King's Choler (which had often produced horrid effects) made the whole Company tremble, only in me it miss that influence; for, all the prudence and discretion I could make, had much ado to hinder my discontent from breaking loose, and it was the consideration I had for the Queen, and not myself that bridled it: Yet not in such a manner, but when I saw the Queen retire, I hasted after, and offered my hand to lead her to her Lodging: But, as her spirit was less distempered than mine, and had therefore more judgement at the Stern, to apprehend how much the Civility I proffered might displease Herod, and deeply endanger me she refused it; and having no time to explain her thoughts, she only made me a sign with hor Eye to retire. I came back again to the King with much regret, whom I had indeed displeased with this action, but it was otherwise taken from me than it would have been from any one of his own Subjects; he thundered still against the Queen in most bitter terms, but seeing that (without unmasking my inclinations) it was in vain to speak in her defence, with much constraint, I silently heard all his injurious. Language: a few days after he was appeased by the powerful Ascendant the Queen had upon his spirit; but he quickly relapsed again; and their whole life was nought else but that continual Disorder which usually results from the incompatibility of Vice and Virtue.  
In the mean time Salome had given so many clear proofs of her Affection, as I could scarce any longer personate an ignorance; and though she had still the power to fo●●id herself an open Declaration, yet she had said enough, and her actions had too well seconded her Discourse, to permit me to doubt it; I had sought all ways to escape this discovery, and when I was perfectly assured of the Truth, yet I dissembled it as much as was possible. Salome well judged by her actions and mine, that I knew well enough what pinched her; and this coldness kindled in her such a despite, as in any Spirit but hers, would have been capable to have quenched Affection.  
We met one day at the House of Pheroras, whom I often visited, and who at that time was indisposed; after we had spent some time by the bed's side, Salome that longed to exchange some particular Discourse, invited me to walk with her into an adjoining Gallery, pretending to show me some Pictures; I could not civilly avoid the snare, and lending her my hand, I led her thither, where we entertained some time in perusing the Pictures; wherein were represented the most memorable Events of the Judaic History; there she showed me so many admirable things as might pose the belief of all but those of their own Religion. She pointed at some Captains, which in the midst of their Battles, with their Prayers, stayed the course of the Sun, and gave a prodigious day to the Universe: of others that opened the flanks of the Red-Sea for their Troops to pass through; but she chiefly insisted upon the actions of David (the greatest of their Kings) and upon those of his Son Solomon, which among them passed for a Miracle of Wisdom; and relating in order the Life of that latter, she particularly stayed upon one Picture that represented a Beautiful Queen that fell so in love with the same of Solomon's Virtues, as she abandoned her Realm, and travelled a vast tract of Land to visit him.  
Salome took occasion to assault me with this History, having comprised it in a few words: This Prince, continued she, was the wisest of all men, and yet disdained not the afflictions of a Prince that loved him, but requited her with his, to the satisfaction of all her Desires. At these words Salome (though in a little confusion) beheld me with a fixed eye; and by that action obliged me to answer her. It was but just, said I, that a King so virtuous as you have spoken him, should be flexible to so fair a Queen, that had forsaken her Estate, to e●●pose herself to the hazard and inconvenience of a long Voyage to see him; this enterprise was so considerable in the person of a great Princess, as Solomon could not have been just (as you have represented him) 〈◊〉 he used her ingratefully. You have said enough to convince yourself, said Salome, and if these be your own thoughts, you should consider what you owe to Princesses, who ('tis true have neither abandoned Realms, nor traversed Provinces to see you; but abandoned for your sake a Liberty more dear than Empires, and trampled upon Obstacles more difficult to surmount, than the incommodities of a Voyage.  
This Discourse, which I had alvayes feared, put me to trouble past all dissembling; and seeing myself obliged to reply: I am too unfortunate, said I, to believe that aught can appear in the miseries of my Life, but Subjects of Compassion; the Affections of Princesses will doubtless find Objects more worthy of themselves; and I am too far from imagining that a Wretch exiled from his Country, persecuted by his King, that hath no retreat upon Earth, but what he owes for to the King your Brother's Bounty, should triumph over those precious Liberties which are doubtless reserved for Persons more happy, and for such as by the loss of their own, with a long succession of faithful Service, have deserved them. Those that have bought them at a lower rate, said Salome, are more obliged than such as paid for them with Pains, Blood, and years of Service; and without extreme ingratitude, they cannot prefer those things that have been dearly sold, to such as have been liberally given them. You are of this number, Tyridates; You evade the notice of Obligations, that you may fly Occasions of Requital; you are better esteemed in Herod's Court than you desire to be, and the Misfortunes of your Life are there less considered than the qualities of your Person: You know this for truth, though you force a cunning ignorance to disguise it: You are too clear-sighted, not to perceive it by a thousand actions; and as many Discourses, which have but too plainly declared it. But disdain closes your eyes and ears; and none but such a Soul as that you play the Tyrant with, but would turn edge at your neglect, yet she hath persevered many years in the same ardour, and with much satisfaction would so continue her whole life time, if you would let her hope that such a constancy should not go unrewarded.  
While Salome pronounced these words, her eyes let fall their looks upon the earth, with all the signs of shame, which she was not able to dissemble: and indeed how should she, when myself was so ashamed in her behalf, as I had a harder task to hide it from her, than to find words to answer her: Madam, said I (after I had a while kept silence) till now my Soul hath been so chained to the consideration of my Miseries, as it hath not been capable of other thoughts; and I have found so little appearance, nay, so little reason in what you have done me the honour to let me know, as, it could never have entered my imaginations: 'Tis this that must answer for the faults I committed, and not a disdain, which never grew in my Nature; and which I should practise but unhandsomely. The Gods have not given me those advantageous qualities to look up at a Fortune so little thought of; and though it should offer itself indeed into my Arms, in this wretched condition, whereto my Miseries have reduced me, I think I should not have power to taste it. Salome (who could no longer doubt, but that her Love was perfectly discovered) found my words, and the action wherewith I pronounced them, so disobliging, that (if it had been possible) that very moment she would have thrown it off: however she would no further advance a Parley, the beginning of which taught her to hope for little satisfaction in the sequel; and turning back to Pheroras his Chamber, in a fashion that showed the marks of Spite: Oh! Well Tyridates, said she, your perplexities shall no more be redoubled by a Discourse so disobliging; and since you are oppressed with Affection, there shall be care taken to free you of that importunity.  
As we finished these words, we entered the Chamber of Pheroras, which stopped my Answer; and she was so overcome with anger, as all the time we stayed together, she would neither vouchsafe to speak or look upon me. Since that day I began to understand her disposition, of which I had already a very evil opinion; and at my next conference with the Queen, I had not power to conceal Salome's folly, willing to prepossess her Spirit by a true relation, lest the malicious Creature should render me some evil Office with her. This relation provoked the Queen's virtue to express more contempt and aversion for Salome than ever: which, after she had witnessed by some words she let fall against her: Tyridates, said she smiling, are you so cruel then to Ladies that love you? and a little after, (putting on a more serious look) if you open these eyes to reason, which passion hath shut up, you will soon perceive, that God doth punish your unjust Affection with another, which yourself disapproves; and if Salome (being married) cannot hatch such Desires and not be wicked, sure I that am in the same estate, and having a King to my Husband, cannot countenance yours without incurring the same sin you condemn in Salome. Ah! Madam, said I, what a vast difference is there betwixt suffering an Affection pure and innocent, as mine, and persecuting with a vicious passion, a person that loathes it! and if ever my adoration shall oblige you to let fall any particular favour upon me, how well may Salome serve to excuse it? and then how little reason have you to consider a man which hath more right to the Title of Cruel Enemy than that of Husband? I have often told you, roplyed the Queen, that you ought not to ground any hope upon that consideration, nay though I were released of all which is due to Herod, yet I shall never forget what I owe to myself. With such answers as these, the Queen still gently confuted me; and in these pleasing liberties of Discourse were stored my best advantages: While this life lasted, I was but too happy; for my hopes had such weak encouragement to aspire at better Fortune from such a Virtue as Mariamne's, as I did my best to bond my content in what I had.  
The necessity I had of the aid of Sohemus, made me open my heart unto him: Besides, by some Presents I had gained Philo the Queen's Eunuch, and Cleophe, whom of all her maids she most trusted: these persons (though the Queen knew it not) befriended me with their best industry, and I had no hard task to get some confidence among them, because I knew the whole Family detested the King; Yet the Queen was ignorant of my influence upon her People; which had she known, she would never have suffered. She avoided all occasions (as much as possible) of being alone with me; and when she could not shun it, she kept me in such awe to displease, as I had scarce the daring to open my mouth; yet sometimes I broke these chains, and calling that commiseration to my succour, which she ever had ready for my Miseries, methought I tasted most delicious comforts in that very Liberty of speaking; but when I presumed, upon a large privilege, to take a Kiss from her Hand, she would take such an anger into her looks, as carried me to the extremities of grief and repentance.  
In the mean time, if the circumspection which I carried in all my actions, deceived the eyes of Herod and his Court, Salome (as the most interessed, and therefore the most clear-sighted of all others) finding little cause to attribute this contempt of mine to any thing but anticipation, set so much care and cunning a-work, to observe my looks, and spy out all my actions, as at last she began to gather part of the Truth; but she had not then time to enlarge her Discovery, because I soon after parted from Jerusalem, and was obliged for a time to leave the Queen, upon an occasion which I shall let you understand.    

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA, OR Love's Masterpiece. PART I.  
LIB. II.  
ARGUMENT.  
Phraates upon the old quarrel, invadeth Judea with 30000 Parthians, under the Command of his Lieutenant Barsapharnes; they ravage and devast the Country about Samaria. Tyridates is sent General by Herod with an Army to oppose them: He sends a brave defiance to Barsapharnes, which he stoutly accepts. Barsapharnes is slain in the Fight, and his Army totally routed. Tyridates' returns to Jerusalem, and is welcomed by a general applause. Salome plots his and Mariam 's ruin, by kindling Jealousy in Herod 's Breast, which enrages him to a resolution of destroying Tyridates. Mariam gives him notice of it by a Letter. Arsanes spills the Poison as he was lifting it up to his mouth. Tyridates, with his Servants, attempting an escape by flight, finds the Streets all blocked up with Soldiers; they endeavour to cut a passage with their Swords, but oppressed with a Multitude, are forced to take Sanctuary in the Temple. The Contestation between Herod and the Priests about him. Socius, a Roman Senator, interposes, and threatens Herod to a Consent that Tyridates might go safely out of his Territories; He conducts him out of Jerusalem. Tyridates returns the same night in Disguise; by Sohemus' aid is admitted to the Queen, takes a passionate leave of her, and quits Judea; goes to Rome, and is Honourably treated by Augustus: His Melancholy drives him from thence: He is cast upon the Shore of Alexandria, and so finishes his Story. Eteocles (commanded by Candace, to acquaint her with his Fortunes) begins with those of Cleopatra; her Descent, Beauty, and rare qualities; her Brother Ptolemy 's vicious inclinations, by the wicked advice of his Counsellors, he designs her Ruin; she takes up Arms in her own Defence, is overpow'red, and besieged by him in Pelusium. Pompey flies to him for Refuge after his Pharsalian Overthrow, and is basely murdered by his Command. Caesar brings his victorious Army into Egypt. Cleopatra petitions his Protection against her Brother; her Condition kindles Pity, and her Person Affection in Caesar's Heart: He reconciles them. Ptolemy 's treacherous intentions to murder Caesar, being discovered, he flies to open Arms. The Bloody Sea-fight betwixt them, wherein he is slain, Caesar Crowns Cleopatra Queen of Egypt, and privately marries her.  
THe Barbarous Phraates seeing he could neither prevail with Herod, to give me up into his hands, nor put me to death, which he had often solicited, and being otherwise his mortal Enemy, sent thirty thousand Parthians upon his Frontiers, under the Command of Barsapharnes, one of his Lieutenants, and the very same that some years before had taken Hircanus and Phaselus' Prisoners. Barsapharnes did all the mischiefs in Judea that Hostility could exercise, and made all that stood in his way, without distinction, feel his impartial Sword. Yet his March was not kept so secret, but (before he entered Judea) Herod (that like a most prudent and vigilant Prince, always kept store of Spies in pay) had a timely notice of it, which made him rally his Forces with such diligence, that before the Parthians had made any considerable progress, he was grown strong enough to oppose them: He would gladly have marched in Person, but Mistrust (the ordinary companion of Tyranny) made him fear some palpitations in the heart of his Estate, if he absented himself; and therefore resolved to send one of his Lieutenants. I had too much interest in this War, not to seek the employment; and all the regret I suffered to leave Mariam, was swallowed with the greedy desire of glory and vengeance, which drew me at the feet of Herod, to ask the conduct of his Army: He was very well satisfied with what I had already done in his Service, and weighing the propriety I had both in the Motive and Success of that War, he concluded he could not put his Forces into better hands than mine; and therefore freely bestowed the Command upon me.  
So soon as my Equipage was ready, I disposed myself to part from that place, where I left the better part of my Soul. The Queen (who could not hate me, though my Passion still perplexed her) was well pleased to hear the King had given me this Employment, and told me in most obliging terms, She had an opinion that I would bring home a fair increase of Honour: But when at the Even of my departure, I desired she would give me a particular Audience, and permit me to take leave of her in her Chamber, without any further witnesses but those we suspected not, she was deaf to my Prayer; and after she had begun with some sharp words, to show me how much the Request displeased her: No, Tyridates (pursued she, with a milder look) this Conference is not necessary; I know already all you would say: nor are you ignorant of what I have to answer you; cashier these unjust desires, if it be possible, and believe it, If a high esteem of your Virtues, and a thousand wishes for your Happiness, may requite your affections, you shall never have cause to call me ungrateful.  
Though these words were perfectly innocent, yet the Queen feared they betrayed too much Favour, and could not let them go without a blush, wherein I read so much ravishing sweetness, and fancied such advantages for myself, that I found nothing in my condition that might patronise complaint. I did all that was possible to obtain leave to write to her: At first she returned me a mild refusal; but in fine, she absolutely forbade me any further importunity: I submitted to her without repining; and being constrained to take leave of her in the presence of the King and the chief Courtiers, I rendered the same respects to Salome, who was then in the presence, by this means avoiding a troublesome Discourse, in which a particular farewell might probably have engaged me. She well understood my intention, and adding this to her former quarrel, she could not keep her spite from breaking into her looks; but when I bowed to salute her, after the Jewish mode, she lifted up her head, and thus whispered as low as was possible: Signior Tyridates, your Carriage is fair, but somewhat dangerous. I had no time to reply to this, and indeed it had put me into so much disorder, that I should hardly have found out fit words for an answer; and this she understood so plainly by my looks, as it powerfully served to confirm her suspicion.  
Thus I parted from Jerusalem, and putting myself in the Head of the Army, which attended my coming, we marched towards Samaria, where Barsapharnes had made some progress, and already burned some Villages, with some little Cities, that were not able to make resistance. Madam, I suppose you willing to learn the events of this War in a few words; I shall endeavour therefore to contract a Narration that may sound too harsh to your tender Ears, and only tell you that I advanced by great Marches towards Barsapharnes, and being arrived within two days March of the place where his Army was encamped, I sent to offer him Battle, and to let him know that Tyridates himself had brought his Head into the Field; and if he could get the good will of Victory, he should reap that desired fruit of his Enterprise, with the entire satisfaction of his Master.  
Barsapharnes (who was espoused to the cruel disposition of his King) gladly accepted the Battle, and (trusting in the Parthian Valour) quitted his Quarters, to advance towards ours. Upon the second day, the Armies came in view, and both being ranged with as much care as we were capable to carry, there began a most cruel and bloody Battle: The Parthians were doubtless much better Soldiers than the Jews, and their numbers full as great as ours; but the Gods favoured the Justice of my Cause, and we so happily made good our choice of some local advantages, as after an obstinate dispute, which cost us five or six thousand lives, Victory came and lighted upon our Banners. The hatred which the Jews bore to the Parthians, made it more bloody than I desired; and though the unnatural Phraates had deeply provoked me, yet in the pursuit I used all the power I had to spare the Parthian Blood, and to draw those out of the Victor's hands that had not yet felt their fury. A Jew presented me with the Head of Barsapharnes, and though the view at the same time gave me horror and compassion, yet I thought it fit to send it to the King of Parthia, in stead of that which he demanded, and to let him know by that present in what manner I was able to defend mine against his inhuman pursuits: The Prisoners I sent freely home again, by this gentle usage, obliging them to detest the cruelty of their King; and after we had repaired the damages the Parthians had made upon the Frontier, and put the Fortresses there in a better condition of resistance, I triumphantly returned to Jerusalem where I was received by the people with great Acclamation, by Herod with extraordinary Caresses, and my fair Queen bade me welcome, with an aspect that assured me, the importunity she received from my Passion, could not wipe out her interest in my success.  
But Oh! the pride of my Content! when I learned from her fair mouth, that she had admitted fear for the hazard of my Life, what could I do, nay, what acknowledgement might my thoughts be capable to fathom, that might suit with the effects of such a bounty? This put me in possession of the most glorious estate that my reason would let me wish for; and though the Divine Mariam was neither able nor willing to bow her soul to any sentiments which she judged unjust and criminal, yet she let me have as much estimation and affection as innocence could part with. All those (to whom either good fortune, or a long perseverance had given an entire possession of what they loved) could not boast so dear a satisfaction as mine; nor could I fancy so much glory and happiness in having the rerest beauties of the World at my feet, as I found in kissing the Robe of Mariam; I say her Robe; for I never kissed her hand, but by surprisal; and when I took that Licence, it cost me the pains of many days to expiate the boldness.  
The different effects of my passion produced as many varieties in her; sometimes she laughed at the extravagancies which the violence of it forced from me, but the cruelty of my sufferings still made her conclude with Pity. Indeed she would take up an earnest anger, when any word chanced to scape my Mouth, that she thought favoured of impiety; for the severity of her Religion, which acknowledged but one Deity, would not permit me to attribute any thing Divine unto her; but when I did, she would use all the authority she had to command me silence.  
I received her words as I would do Oracles; for she never spoke any thing but what deserved an entire attention, and an eternal memory. Tyridates, said she one day to me, how commendable it would be in you, and how much you might oblige me for my sake and your own, to recover yourself of this distemper, which must be fatal to one of us, and possibly may betray us both to destruction; I suffered the beginning of it with an indulgence that cannot be excused, and 'tis that hath rendered me guilty both of your misfortunes and your faults; Employ the same courage wherewith you vanquished Judea's enemies, to combat this Domestic Foe. I know you have virtue enough for the Design, if you would use it; try but to oppose it with all the Forces of your reason, and you will carry an undoubted victory, in which both you and I shall find our perfect repose and satisfaction. I have yet by the Grace of my God led my life in innocence, and taken no licence from the provocations of Herod to commit any act unworthy of my Birth; do not desire, Tyridates, to blemish that in me which you prise highest, because 'tis undefiled; to drop a blot upon my Fame, which can never be washed off again; if you have yet blinded the eyes of Herod, do not dim you own with a hope of the same success for the future. Salome hath an interest that will set Spies upon all your actions, and soon discover enough to ruin you; and if that cruel woman doth neither spare the clearest innocence, nor the nearest alliance, 'tis but just you should fear her as a Stranger, and a man who in her opinion is already culpable.  
The fair Queen uttered these words with a Grace wholly Divine: but alas! they found little inclination in me to be so wrought upon; for what influence could she hope upon a spirit that had reserved no power to dispose of itself, that could resent nothing in those sweet words, but what redoubled the passion they dissuaded, and rendered it incapable of that rigorous complacence she demanded. I showed her this weakness of mine in as passionate and submissive expressions as my love could utter, protested how impossible it was to obey her, and forgot nothing that I thought might stir her goodness: I say her goodness; for upon that only I built all my Fortune.  
But I had roved too much in a Calm, too long belied my unfortunate Birth, and the Science of those Astrologers that condemned me to so many misfortunes; Till than I had so warily kept my passion under hatches, as the King (though of a most diffident nature) had not perceived it; but Salome that surveyed my actions, with more design than all the rest, who of herself was one of the subtlest Women in the World, at first suspected, and in the end by divers marks discovered the truth of it. Of this she gave me some intelligence by the words she let fall at my departure for the Army; and though they sensibly touched and taught me to carry more care in my behaviour for the future, to lessen her suspicion, yet all those endeavours proved unfruitful, and the Artifice I employed to disguise my Affection, (which in all likelihood would have gotten credit in any Soul but Salome's) in her produced an affection quite contrary, and confirmed her in that mischievous belief she had already entertained; when this was once established in her head, Spite came, and joined so violently with it, that in a short time I think Hatred flamed higher in her heart than ever Love had done: the Queen she always mortally hated, as well out of envy of her admirable qualities, which had inspired all others with Love and Veneration, as some disdain she apprehended in that great Princess, who indeed could not so debase her spirit to smile on such as she deemed unworthy of affability: Besides, her power was too great with the King, and Salome that aimed to be uppermost in his favour, was stung with discontent at the Queen's authority.  
With these considerations she mingled her Jealousy, which stirred up such impetuous storms in her Breast, as made it capable of the foulest Treasons and blackest Crimes; and if she hardly endured her disrespect and authority, she could not look upon her as a Rival, without resolving her ruin, and with her to destroy that, which a few days before her Affection had set at so high a value.  
This change may appear strange unto you; but it was so true, that she no sooner believed me amorous of Mariam, but that Love, with which she had before perplexed me, was converted into such a Hatred, as rendered her apt to entertain most violent resolutions, and set her presently a hatching a design to involve me in the mischiefs she prepared for that innocent Princess; she was so well acquainted with the King her Brother's spirit, as she knew it to be of the same temper with her own, and therefore doubted not but to make the least impressions she could give him, powerful enough to destroy us. By this way, as the most assured, and the least dangerous, she resolved our ruin, and began to labour it with all the subtlety that her Malice could invent: she first began to observe the long stay I made in Judea, notwithstanding that I might elsewhere find Sanctuaries of more assurance, and that the Emperor Augustus (an enemy to the King of Parthia) had invited me to Rome, and offered me a peaceable retreat there, with all sorts of succours against Phraates: she showed him how it disagreed with Reason, that I should disdain such advantageous offers, to be supported by the Masters of the Earth, if I had not some powerful tie in Judea. Then without unmasking her Design, she made him curiously to mark my Actions, desired him often to observe my Face when I entered the Queen's Chamber, to take notice of my Sighs, my passionate Looks, with divers passages, in which a violent Love cannot belie itself to the eyes of interessed persons that will carefully survey them. These things in a short time wrought upon Herod's spirit, and (as none was more tenderly sensible and impatient in that respect than he) I should soon have felt his fury if he had not been restrained by divers considerations.  
Besides the hatred which he bore to Phraates, and the services I had rendered to his Crown, he considered me as one protected by Augustus, who had oft writ to him in my favour, and expressed a particular care of me: This dexterous and Politic King dissembled his first resentments, only he made known to Salome a part of his Suspicion; and when that malicious wasp perceived she had made way for her intention, and half trained the King to her design, she neglected no time to strike the blow as she had premeditated.  
Sir, said she one day to him, I am constrained to declare that which (till now) the care I cherished for the quiet of your Family, made me conceal; but the peace of your mind being yet more dear to me, hath overcome all those considerations, that made me dissemble my thoughts. Seek no more for the cause of Mariam 's disdain, her aversion doth not spring from a resentment for the death of her Kindred; for were she not prevented by another passion, the proofs of your love must needs have softened her: That Rock so insensible to your Caresses, is not so unrelenting to others, for that Parthian that holds his safety of your Charity, does doubtless love her with better luck than you; I have discovered their intelligence by divers marks, and whatever care they took to disguise it, their passion hath so blinded them, that they have lost all power to dissemble it, and I fear at last the whole Court will perceive it with seandal; I struggled hard before I could resolve with myself to reveal this to you, and I should have been willing at the price of my blood to have shunned the occasion of it without betraying you; but at last, Sir, my Zeal for your interests, and my indignation at the Queen's Ingratitude, have vanquished those Reasons that would enjoin me silence.  
While Salome spoke, the King accompanied her Discourse with many sighs, and swallowed at deep draughts the poison she had prepared him; this first information wanted little of transporting him to some fatal action: but, as he had shown much power upon himself in divers encounters, he then mastered these first motions, and grew desirous to discover further, before he enterprised things that might bring him such displeasing consequences. For this reason, suppressing his apprehensions as much as possible: Sister, said he to Salome, I am obliged to you for the advice you have given me, and doubt not but it parts from the affection you bore me; I have already had suspicions conformed to your belief, but they were not so strongly grounded to seize wholly upon my judgement; besides, I have understood the Queen's virtues by so many proofs, as I found it hard to believe that her aversion to me could urge her to the violation of her duty: Yet now I begin to lean to your opinion, and with you to judge it almost impossible that a thousand ardent proofs of my affection should not efface the Queen's resentments, nor so much as soften her rocky heart, if she had not given it to another. I love her but too well, continued he with a sigh, too too well I love that ingrateful Woman, and though she unworthily abuses my love, yet I cannot choose but love her. He stopped at these words, walked up and down the Chamber with an action that expressed his transport and irresolution, wherein Salome might read, that her plot had not ill succeeded.  
Ah! Tyridates cried he, after some silence, dost thou thus requite the protection and refuge I have given thee? dost thou not fear to find that in my just anger which thou hast avoided by my assistance? had I deserved to have felt thy indignation, couldst thou not have galled me in a part less sensible? And canst thou believe that a cruel Brother is more formidable than a jealous Husband, than a passionate lover? He mingled these words with fresh Sighs, and again took some turns in the Room; then turning to Salome, Sister, said he, before we enterprise any thing upon the advice you have given, 'tis fit we instruct ourselves farther; for the quality of Tyridates, backed with the care that Augustus takes of his safety, prescribes me much caution; if you please, continue to improve your discovery of the truth, and on my side I shall take such care, as it shall prove a very hard task for them still to abuse me.  
This was the discourse between the King and Salome, all which a while after I learned from Sohemus, who had been told it by an Officer of the Kings, his intimate Friend, that overheard it in the Antichamber.  
From that day these two malicious spirits employed all their care to observe my behaviour, and indeed I confess, that (whatever circumspection I endeavoured to carry,) many passages slipped from me, capable to undisguise my passion to persons so powerfully concerned; my Looks, Sighs, and change of Countenance often betrayed me, for before I understood the King's suspicion, I behaved myself with less prudence than I should have used, had I disinherited it; the Queen was yet more narrowly sifted, and as that great Princess observed something in me (if I may speak it with modesty) that gave me a better title to her esteem than any of the Jews, and possibly feeling herself obliged to my persevering respectuous passion, she compelled herself to show such apprehensions of it, as reason told her were full of innocence, and treated me in public with a countenance capable to confirm the King in those cruel impressions Salome had given him.  
This Jealous Prince that saw not but with the troubled Eyes of his suspicion, beheld all our actions, as if every one had the Countenance of a Criminal; the effects of the Queen's goodness and civility were interpreted for so many marks of her affection, and thus he was ready every moment to abandon himself to such a rage, as almost posed all the prudence he could make to tame it. I often marked these changes both in his looks and his humour: and, though in the whole course of his life he had appeared the most dexterous dissembler of all men, yet his raging jealousy had so weakened the power, which usually held the reins of his passions, as he could not so well contain himself, but I discovered much coldness and change in the discourse and entertainment he made me; indeed I should have apprehended all these things with such a spirit as his, and doubtless had so, if the powerful love of Mariam had not stifled that in my Soul, which nature places there for our proper safety, and forced a neglect of all that care I should have carried about me for the preservation of my life: The Queen perceived this (which she always suspected) as soon as I, and though her conscience witnessed to herself the innocence of her carriage, yet she was desirous to avoid the danger she apprehended, by treating me with a more reserved behaviour, if possible, than she had done formerly. I studied a more specious dissimulation, but it was too late, the tempest was already risen, and at last made itself known by most dangerous flashes.  
One day, the remembrance of which I must preserve as the most remarkable of my life, the very same whereon the Gems celebrate that which they call the Feast of Tabernacles, being desirous through curiosity (though of different Religion) to assist at their Ceremonies, I accompanied the King to that famous Temple, which from the Name of its Founder, they call the Temple of Solomon, and which for Riches and admirable structure may pass with more justice than that of Diana at Ephesus, or that of Jupiter the Olympian, for one of the World's wonders; at first the Ceremonies borrowed my attention, for methought they were very specious: but in fine, no longer able to keep them off, I transported all my thoughts to Mariam, and with those tied my eyes to her face, with so attentive a regard, as though Arsanes, who stood behind me, often endeavoured to call me to myself, and made me mark in what manner the King observed me, I had much ado to retire them for a few moments, while the Sacrifice lasted, nor was I ignorant of the fault I committed, but I believe the Gods struck my Reason blind to punish my offence of assisting at the Sacrifices of a Religion which was enemy to theirs: whatever the cause was, that was the day wherein the King abandoned himself to his Jealousy, though possibly he had not yet determined upon the resolution he was to take. Coming back from the Temple, he went to visit the Queen's Lodging, full of furious thoughts, his Face carried the Copy of his troubled Soul, and his eyes sparkled Messages of Death: Yet they were no sooner encountered by the Queens, but all their storms cleared up, and those tempests which rage had raised against her, by that marvellous ascendent she had upon his Spirit, did homage to the charms of her beauty, and grew calm in a moment; of one terrible as a Lion, in a few minutes he became mild and tractable; and in stead of uttering the threats he had prepared, his disarmed Anger gave place to Kindness, which rendered his Spirit pliable to Caresses and Flatteries.  
He made the Queen a discourse full of Affection, which she received with her usual modesty: but then offering to take some liberties with her, which he might have lawfully believed his due, if (by so many cruelties inflicted upon her and hers) he had not violated the Rights, and lost all those advantages of which Marriage had possessed him, that courageous Princess, who could never tamely hide her resentment in a disguise, disdainfully repulsed him.  
Herod, that was not ignorant of the true cause of this, though he suspected others, would not take a denial from her first coldness; but perceiving she resisted with an invincible resolution, and being no way able to obtain these favours from her, which his desires were greedy of, he recalled that Choler that had so lately shook him, and beholding her with Eyes that sparkled fury; Ingrateful Woman, said he, do not longer think to abuse me by thy specious pretences; but know I am not ignorant that it is the love of Tyridates, and not the memory of Hircanus, or Aristobulus that renders thee inflexible to thy Husband's Kindness.  
Though the Queen had ever feared these things from Herod's humour, yet she could not be less than surprised at this language, and appeared as if she had been struck with a Thunderbolt; her Tongue remained mute, her Visage changed colour, and from the profound astonishment which Herod there observed, he received cruel confirmations of his Jealous thoughts. This apprehension redoubled his fury, and now not doubting but the Queen's powerful surprisal rose from the reproaches of her Conscience, and the shame or fear she might have to see her Passion discovered, he gave himself up to the most furious transports that rage could inspire, and had much ado to keep it from committing outrage upon her Person; but he upbraided her with the most injurious words that Choler could invent; How now Traitress, said he, must I then be robbed by a Barbarian's witchcraft, of what is only due to myself? And thou, that wouldst fain pass for a demure Zealot, does it suit with the Law of thy God, or the repute of the World, that thou findest more sweetness in the shameful embraces of an Infidel, than the Legitimate affections of a Husband? Ah! disloyal Woman, unworthy of a Love, which has preserved thee in a rank from whence thou hast deserved to fall with thy Family, a Love that hath exposed me too, to the Contempt of my People; is it by these infamous passions thou makest good thy claim to the Macchabean blood, of which thou hast so often boasted? Thinkest thou those illustrious Asmoneans, with whose glory thou hast still reproached me, (should they return to the World) could approve of the ignominious preference thou makest of an exiled Parthian, to a King, whom the latest of thy Ancestors gave thee for a Husband, or rather who honoured thee with the Title of his Spouse, when he might have used thee as his subject?  
He accompanied these words with a torrent of others more cruel and injurious; during which the fair Queen, having had time to restore herself from her first astonishment, began to regard with all the assurance that innocence could give her; and, neither able to make her spirit flexible to his Flatteries, nor her own justification, of which she believed him unworthy, after that he had given some truce to his invectives. Finish, said she, thou cruel Man, finish thy rage, and believe that after the exercise of so much brutish cruelty upon mine, thou may'st give it leave to let fall its last effects upon myself; there only remains the last part of it to be acted upon me; for having had (by the murder of my dearest friends, by a miserable Captivity, and the bloody orders thou gavest for my own) my repose so often tortured, there rests no more but to assault my Honour, which by the favour of Heaven I have till now defended from thy horrid persecutions: do, tear my Reputation, which hath maintained itself pure and spotless in my misfortunes, and still persecute the Asmonean memory by the shame thou preparest for the last of its Illustrious blood, which thou hast spilt so brutishly; Hope not I will assert my innocence; no, that account must only be rendered to him that knows it, and by his goodness will defend it against the calumny of my Enemies: believe all of the unfortunate Mariam, wherewith her envious detractors have inspired thee: Thy cruelties have given me but too much cause to dispense with the justification which I owe to him, whom Heaven in its anger gave me for a Husband: but do not involve such persons in my misery, as have no part in the crime thou imposest; and if thy rage demands a victim to appease it, seek no other than her whom thou hast taught to desire Death, by rendering her Life calamitous.  
The last words of the Queen transported Herod to the farthest degrees of fury: and now, more than believing the care she took of my justification, while she disdained her own, could spring from no other root but that of Love, he concluded the proof clear enough to convince her; and not able so far to overrule this belief, to dissemble his intention; Yes perfidious Creature, cried he, I will credit all that my eyes and ears, and not the envious detractors, have told me; I will credit all that will convince thee of the most shameful and blackest of all Treasons; and in fine, believe that of thee, which thou wouldst I should do, and disdainest to disavow: The care thou takest of that ingrateful wretch, which has so basely betrayed me, to the prejudice of thy own safety, shall suffice for his and thy Condemnation: the ruin of that thou holdest so dear, shall begin the punishment ofthy disloyalty, and the choice of victims due to my just anger shall not be at thy disposal; for before thou learnest what to resolve upon thyself, prepare to know what I shall execute upon the person of thy Adulterer.  
At these words he flung out of the Chamber, with a Countenance so furious, as those that met him in the passage could not behold him without trembling; Alas, how erroneous was the opinion he had of my fortune? how remote was I from that Sovereign degree of happiness, and how worthy my condition had been of envy, had his suspicions been true.  
In the mean time I was at my Lodging, wholly ignorant of what had passed at the Palace, and employed the rest of that day upon my ordinary diversions. The hour of Supper being come, I was served after the usual manner, and sitting at the Table with some friends of the Court, which were come to visit me, we had done part of our repast; when, calling for drink, one of the King's Cupbearers that was accustomed to serve me, presented the Cup with a troubled look, and discomposed countenance: I observed this change in his Visage, but made no reflection upon it, only contented myself to ask him if he was not well; and in the mean time taking the Cup from his hands, I was carrying it to my mouth, when Arsanes entered the Chamber, and hastily running up to me, just as I touched the Cup with my lips, he rushed against my arm so rudely, as he made me let fall the Cup, and spill the Liquor, part on the Table, and part upon my clothes: this action of Arsanes was so little respectful, that (knowing his disposition) I concluded he had not done it without some powerful motive: but he stayed not till I should ask the reason, and (desirous to hide his intent from those were with me) Sir, said he, I beseech you to pardon the offence which my rash haste made me commit, and be pleased to vouchsafe me the liberty of your ear for one moment. This said, he drew me by the Arm, with an action so earnest, as I perceived he had some advice of importance to communicate: I rose from the Table, making a bad excuse to those that supped with me, and followed Arsanes into my Cabinet, which he first entered. We were no sooner there, but, Sir, said he, nothing but a speedy flight can save your life, the Gods in good time conducted me hither to spill the Poison was prepared you; but if we stay longer here, it will not be possible, with the same facility, to put by those other dangers that menace you; Read this Note, which just now I received of the Queen's chief Eunuch; it is written with her own hand; and if the God's consent that we escape, 'tis to her alone you owe your safety: I was amazed at the words and actions of Arsanes, and without reply to his Discourse, I took the Letter, where I found these words written with the hand of my Divine Queen.  
Mariam to Prince Tyridates.  
THE peril to which I expose myself in writing to you, cannot hinder an advice which I owe to your virtue, and the proofs of your affection. Tyridates, if it be possible save yourself, and stay no longer in a place, where Poison and Sword are employed to give you Death.  
I read over the Billet twice or thrice, kissed those amiable Characters which that adorable hand had traced, and after the perusal, I was much to seek, whether the cruelty of Herod, that sought to destroy me, after he had given me shelter, or the goodness of Mariam, who took such noble pains to preserve my life with the peril of her own, touched me deepest; I knew not to which of these resentments my soul was to give pre-eminence, but I know well the death that was threatened could not put on so rude a shape as that departure to which I saw myself condemned by the hand of Mariam.  
The grief I felt was too prodigious to be wrapped in words, I stood a long time silent and immovable, which Arsanes (who had balanced the estate of my Affairs) disapproving, after he had often urged me to resolve; What would you I should do said I? what Resolution can you wish me to take in so cruel a proposition? think you this life, which through your care I have miserably dragged from Court to Court, is so dear to divorce me from Mariam? do you believe this separation more easy than that of my Soul from my Body? Shall I abandon her for ever, whom I can scarce leave for a moment without dying? And to avoid one single death, shall I carry a thousand in my Breast through all those places where my pitiless Fortune shall lead me? Ah! Let us die first, continued I, walking a great pace, without listening to the Reasons Arsanes pressed for departure, let us die a ready death, since a slow one is much more sensible, leave the Body cold and pale in that place which the Soul cannot abandon; and since we must die one way, let us seek to die in the eyes of Mariam; and if that glory be refused, at least give up that Spirit which neither was, nor ever shall be, but to her, as near her as is possible.  
I pronounced these words with an action full of transport; and while thus my irresolution shook me with such terrible inquietudes, Arsanes lost all his loyal pains about me; but after he had alleged divers persuasive reasons, to which I could not so much as lend attention: Sir, said he, I doubt not but you dispose yourself to this parting with much regret; but if the care of your own life cannot oblige you, consider the command you received from the Queen, you will find it so express, that if you have any respect left for her, it is impossible to disobey it. The Queen's command, replied I, proceeds from nought but a compassionate care she takes of my life: did she know that to die were a thousand times more pleasing then to quit her for ever, she would doubtless permit me to stay here still. Arsanes was about to reply, though he could never have persuaded me, when my Governor entered the Closet, and told me in a few words, that Sohemus desired to speak with me, that favoured by the night's darkness, he had slipped into the Garden where he attended me, not daring to approach farther without running a danger too manifest, and giving the King such suspicions as might bereave him of the means to serve me.  
I ran without replying to the place where Sohemus waited, without a Torch, or any company but Arsanes and my Governor, and so soon as I came at him, Well my dear friend, said I, embracing him, than we must either die or separate, and by the Cruelty of Herod and Fate, either Life or Mariam must be quitted. Yes Sir, replied Sohemus, and if you use not diligence, 'tis possible you will have both snatched from you. That may easily be done, said I, and I shall feel less pain and repugnance that way, than violently to chain my Body where my Soul refuses to keep it company. Then I repeated almost the same things I talked to Arsanes, to which when he had lent an attention as serious as the troubles that involved us had left him; Sir, said he, if you love the Queen, you ought not to consult farther, nor enlarge your explications upon her commands, which cannot be but fatal to one or other; if you neglect your own life, you ought to consider hers, and to believe, that while you are in Judea, she can never be in safety; 'tis not only against you that the King's anger does lighten, 'tis rather her that this rising storm doth threaten, and you have no other way to keep it off her head, than by removing the cause of the King's cruel Jealousy.  
Then in order he briefly recounted what he had learned of the Conference between the King and Queen from the chief Eunuch, who had overheard it, and thus by urging the Queen's safety and repose, he ranged all that was repugnant in me under his obedience. Yet I could not dispose myself to forsake the Queen for ever, but I resolved for some time to fly the rage of Herod, and in the mean time to go in search of some occasions that might either restore my condition by the knowledge he might gain of the Queen's innocence, or if it were possible, procure to see her without her knowledge: this was my hope that got my consent to part, but I would rather have taken a thousand deaths, than given it to take eternal leave of Mariam.  
While I discoursed with Sohemus, thanked him for his good Offices, and promised a perpetual Amity, with such a share in my Fortunes, as his own desires should crave (if ever the Gods thought fit to change them) and drew promises from him to persevere in his faithful assistance, Arsanes and my Governor got ready our Arms and Horses, and having caused them to be led without noise by three or four Parthian Servitors to the Garden Gate (that had served me from my Infancy, and followed me in all my Voyages) and having carefully packed up my Jewels and Money, with what else was necessary, I rewarded Sohemus with some Gems of great value, and leaving others in his hand to give to Cleophe and the Eunuch that had been my Considents, I bid him adien with tears in my Eyes, and arming myself, in a short time I got to Horse with Arsanes, my Governor, and my faithful Parthians, without taking any Jew along with me, or so much as letting them know of my departure.  
I went out at the same Gate Sohemus entered, which opened into an unfrequented street; while I issued out at the backside of my Lodging, the Front of it was assaulted by those that Herod had sent either to take or kill me; and, as they had order to environ my Lodging, I had not trod many steps in the streets before I saw both ends of it seized upon by a great number of Soldiers, that shut up the passage on all sides. I perceived I should find it a hard task to save myself, yet I resolved to sell either my life or liberty as dear as possible, and turning to those that followed me: Are you resolved, said I, to defend yourselves like valiant men, and either to owe your safety to your own bravery, or perish with your Prince, if the Gods have so ordained it? they protested with one voice, That they would die at my feet; and, being assured of their resolution, I spurred in upon those with my Sword in my hand, that defended the passage; and was followed so Courageously by mine, that my Enemies began to judge it not so easy a task to take me as they imagined.  
I passed upon the Necks of those that first opposed me; and, cutting out our way with our Swords, we bestirred ourselves so vigorously at the first encounter, as (after we had thrown many of our Enemies dead at our feet, and scattered the fiercest of the rest) the passage through the Street remained free, and we advanced into another more large, through which we galloped towards the Gate that was nearest. And now we had begun to entertain some hope of escape, when passing through a place adjoining to the Temple, we spied so many Troops of armed men from all corners approaching to us, as we judged it very difficult to force them.  
The light which the Torches cast, showed me Alexas the Husband of Salome in the head of the foremost, and, hearing him loudly animate his men either to take or kill me, I ran up unto him with my advanced Sword in my hand, which I let fall upon his head so forcibly, that had not the blow been warded by a Soldier, that put his Sword before it, his life had paid for his Wife's malice; nevertheless the blow was not so slight, but it threw him with a deep wound at the feet of his Soldiers; the Jews raised a loud clamour at the fall of Alexas, and in the mean time we charged in so successfully as we tumbled many of them dead at our Horse's feet: Indeed we did perform actions there worthy of some remembrance, and 'tis probable the Jews had never seen such a handful of men in their City dispute their lives so courageously; but in fine, our Enemy's strength increased to such a measure, and ours grew so feeble, as we soon perceived, without some miraculous assistance, the ways to safety were all blocked up. My Governor Politis, who till then had accompanied and served me in all my disgraces with a marvellous affection (bravely fight by my side) was forced by a multitude of wounds to breathe his last; his death was succeeded by one of my faithful Parthians, and sure I had not long stayed behind him, if Arsanes, who is endowed with a dexterous Wit, and that tempered with a marvellous Prudence, bethought himself in the very midst of danger, of a way to save us; and approaching to me, as near as possible, Sir, said he, I beseech you follow me, I have discovered a secure Retreat: And at these words in stead of spurring towards the Gate, as we did before, where the thickest throng of Enemies and difficulty withstood us, he caused me to face about towards the Temple Gate, which was behind us, and on that side (having but few enemies to combat) we soon cleared the passage, and were no sooner arrived there, but we readily quitted our Horses, and threw ourselves into the Temple, which was then open, because of the Feast of Tabernacles, the Celebration of which lasted three whole days.  
That Temple had always been a Sanctuary for Criminals: but at that Feast (the most considerable of any the Jews Religion celebrates) it was so assured a refuge, as the Jews would rather have suffered the entire ruin of their Nation, than permitted any to be forced from the Temple, that had there taken Sanctuary, whatever Crime they were convicted of; this cooled the heat of their pursuits, and when they saw us entered, they stopped at the Gate, and stood with Arms across, without the least offer to follow us: Indeed some there were of the most mutinous among them, and the most interessed in the hurt of Alexas, and the death of their Companions, that cried out to the Priests to put us out; That I was the King's Enemy; That it was by his Order and express Command they pursued us: But the Priests, in stead of listening to their clamour, received us with much humanity, and protested they would rather perish than suffer the Temples Privileges to be violated. The dignity of Priesthood among the JEWS was very eminent: That of Highpriest, had heretofore been only exercised by Kings themselves; after the Kings Hircanus and Aristobulus the Grandfather and Brother of Mariam had discharged it, and then it was in the hands of one, the nearest allied to the Crown. And thus we saw ourselves in that sacred Fortress, and our Enemies only content to environ it, without daring to advance one step to force an entrance; but as soon as day showed itself, the King having learned the truth, after he had sent divers Messages to the Priests in vain, he came himself, wholly transported with sury, in such a Tempest, as gave belief to those that were next him, it would hurry him to the most violent extremities.  
The Priests, informed of his Arrival, came to the Gate to meet him, but so soon as they saw him, in the name of their GOD they forbade him to put a Foot into the Temple, if he brought any other intention than to render that respect which was as due from him, as from the meanest jew, to that Holy Place, and the DIVINITY within it.  
Herod, though deeply in rage, and possibly not overzealous in the service of his God, as he was very politic, feared, that being already hated, and but weakly assured of the Jews fidelity (should he venture to violate their Customs, and infringe their Privileges) it might provoke some revolt; besides news was brought him, that in divers parts of the City, the Pharisees, that were the greatest Zelots in their Religion, and the most considerable among the People, began to murmur. He considered that there was then cause to fear every thing, the Feast having filled the City not only with its own Inhabitants, but with the greatest part of all Judaea, which the Solemnity had summoned thither. These considerations stayed Herod at the Gate, but the trouble of his Soul expressed itself at the Eyes, and in the disjointed words his Rage let fall: yet time having reconciled him to some Reason, he represented to some Priests, that the Asylum of the Temple was not to protect us; that we were Infidels, and of a contrary Religion; that they ought the rather to put us out, lest our presence should profane the places Holiness; but the Priests replied, That God's Asylum was equally for all men; That if our Opinions did not tread the right path, we might there find it through the conduct of his Grace; That probably having made us incur the King's displeasure, he had therefore called us thither.  
Herod answered, that I had violated the chief rights of Hospitality, that were as ancient as Temples themselves; That no Nation ought to contain a refuge of the Man that had directly abused the proper Person of the King, and mortally wounded his Brother in Law; but all the Arguments he could urge, were not strong enough to batter the Priest's resolution; neither his Menaces nor Promises could dispose them, either to remit me into his hands, or suffer him to enter into the Temple, without thundering against him with all their Authority wherewith their Office had invested them, which enjoined the conservation of their Privileges.  
The Gods can witness, that I did not love my life so well, to bestow all the care they made me take upon its preservation: but I condescended much to to the entreaties of Arsanes and my Servants, and indeed to the Priests themselves, who would not permit me to leave the Temple, though I had desired it.  
Whatever resentment I had entertained against Herod, as the persecutor of my life, and Mariamne's repose: yet I could not quit the thought of his first Reception, and the shelter that he had so many years given me against my Brother's Barbarism: this remembrance made me desire to see and speak to him, to testify that I was neither ingrateful to his former kindness, nor had ever injured him in the least particular he could imagine: upon this score forcing this resistance of Arsanes dissuasion, I approached within eight or ten paces of the Gate where he contested with the Priests; and, so soon as I could be seen or heard; King of the Jews, cried I, I am neither thy Subject nor inferior: and the Gods, who have given me birth from the noblest Family in the World, have not left me to acknowledge any Superior Power but theirs; for this reason I have little cause to justify myself to thee that wouldst have taken my life both by Sword and Poison, and hast pursued me against all Divine and Humane right, even to the Temple of thy God: but the satisfaction I owe to my Conscience, and to the memory of that Entertainment wherewith thou hast formerly treated me, doth oblige me to declare my Innocence. I protest unto thee, Herod, both before thy God and mine, that I have no way deserved to offend thee: in those employments thou gavest me for thy Service, thou hast found it (and possibly to thy own advantage) that I neither spared my Blood nor my Life for the interest of thy State; and for that which concerns thy Person: I repeat my protestation, that I never did thee any injury. If that which seems amiable in they Eye, hath appeared worthy of veneration and respect, those sentiments, to which thou canst only attribute my Crime, cannot make thy complaint against me legitimate; and I wish this very Temple, which now serves to shroud me from thy Malice, may crush me with its own ruins, if in the most culpable of all my thoughts, there was any mixture of what might be capable to wrong thee. Nor do I assert this truth with design to disarm thy fury, or avoid the death thou threatnest: I cannot fear basely; nay, could I now be shown any occasion to perish nobly, thou shouldst quickly see how low I prise my life; but I perceive, that either thy own blind transport, or the rage of mine and thy Enemies, have made thee involve in my imposed crimes the purest and the most entire innocence that ever yet was injured. Destroy him if thou wilt whose thoughts may have displeased thee, though they were always innocent enough to endure stripping: but do not let fall thy rage upon Her that never understood them. What I have represented may plant quiet as well in thy Family as thy breast: and if thou wilt promise me at the foot of thy Altars, and before the Ministers of thy God, to make me the only mark of thy fury, I will abandon this Asylum that defends my Head from thy rape, and without further delay render it up into thy hands.  
I had further enlarged myself, if the enraged Herod would have given me a longer hearing without interruption: He had endured the beginning of my Discourse with some patience, or at least had suffered me to speak, because the excess of choler, that possessed him, had tied up his own Tongue. But when he saw with what passion I endeavoured to justify Mariam, and then remembered that her goodness had taken the same care for me, he let himself fall into a cruel re-doublement of his Jealousy, and not able to dissemble the rage that remembrance inspired: Barbarous Traitor, cried he, unworthy of the Protection I have given thee against those that knew thee better than myself, and would justly have cut thee from the world, through the experience of thy disloyal inclination: dost thou hope to find that at the foot of our Altars, against my just resentments, which none but my Arm could have given thee against the pursuits of thy own Brother? thinkest thou, Heaven that abhors thy ingratitude, can arm itself in thy defence against a King, that hath but too well defended and received thee, not only into his Dominions, but with a hospitable liberality into his House; a favour thou hast unworthily abused? Ah! no, false Man, do not hope Divine preservation for such Crimes as can neither be excused before God or Man; nor think thy artificial words can pacify an Anger armed but with too much Justice. Thou shalt perish for the expiation of thy own ingratitude; nor shall thy Counsel direct me what punishment to inflict on the complices of thy Treachery.  
He would have said more, and possibly in the end violated all right of privilege to get me into his power, if Sosius (followed with a great Guard of Romans and Jews) had not arrived at the Temple Gate: This man was a Roman Senator, that some days since came to Jerusalem to treat with Herod about certain Affairs concerning the Emperor Augustus: And the same Sosius that with a Roman Army had formerly aided him in his War against Antigonus, and contributed more than himself to the defeat and taking of that poor Prince.  
Herod highly respected this man, as well for his personal, as his representative condition, being the Emperor's Ambassador. Sosius had formerly known, and fancying something in me worthy of his amity, gladly consented to be my friend; and at that time understanding the danger I was in, he came to find Herod, with intent to employ all the Imperial Authority for my preservation: and so successfully he laboured it, that Herod, as hot as his rage had made him, was constrained to tame it at the name of Augustus, of whose power and greatness he was a timorous Idolater.  
Sosius urged that he ought to permit me to retire to the Emperor, who had oft invited me to Rome, and professed an interest in my preservation; that his proceedings were but too violent against a Prince of my extraction; that it was fit to consider what might follow, his quarrel being grounded upon nought but weak suspicion; besides that he had learned, the wound of Alexas was not dangerous, which I had given him in such a resistance as was allowed to all men: Besides these, he represented divers other considerations, to which in the end he joined the Emperor's Authority, protesting he should render an exact account of that Action, and to this menace, Herod (that was a slave to the Roman fortune and greatness, and without that prop, knew it impossible to support his own) rather rendered than to any other consideration. At last therefore he consented I should go safely out of the Temple, with all that was mine; on condition I should make no stay in the City, but quit it the same day, and in six more depart the limits of his Realm; pawning his word to Sosius (who received it in the Emperor's name) that neither in the City, nor upon the way there should be any trap laid for me.  
This was our Capitulation, and having paid my thanks to Sosius and the Priests for their kindness, as well as my grief to abandon Mariam would suffer me, I quitted the Temple, and soon after the City, under the Conduct of Sosius and his Romans, and they accompanied me without the Gates; it was likewise permitted to the rest of my Train, to repair to the place of my first night's lodging, which was at a Town distant about a hundred furlongs from Jerusalem. Thus I escaped Herod's fury, but not the persecutions of my unfortunate Love; the ills I had avoided were found scarce worth considering, when compared with those this cruel parting procured me; and though my resolution was thus imperfect, thus far I had gone, rather to suffer a thousand deaths, than renounce Mariam for ever, for fear of one.  
We were no sooner arrived at the place where we were to lodge, but taking Arsanes aside; My dear Arsanes said I, You see that I have condescended to your reasons that urged my parting from the Temple, and the City, to avoid Herod; and possibly the consideration of you, was none of the feeblest arguments to win my consent to preserve a life which I can never love, in this condition it is now reduced to; but if you believed there was any of those reasons so puissant to make me welcome a despair of ever seeing Mariam more, disabuse yourself; 'tis as impossible to liv ewithout her, as without respiring; and spare your dissenting reasons, for they are all incapable to reverse the resolution I have taken to see her this very Night if possible; when the Night has spread her shades upon Earth, I intent to return disguised to Jerusalem, and to go to the House of my Friend and confident Sohemus; I have some hopes, that by his and Phylon the Eunuch's assistance, I may gain a sight of the Queen; the design is now more easy to effect than ever; for besides the service that the Night and my disguise are like to do me, in such an infinite number of Strangers that are now in the City, because of the Feast, I shall run no hazard of discovery: Besides, Herod will never imagine, that after so late an escape from such a peril, I would venture afresh to repeat the Precipice. The Queen I will see, if Heaven prove so kind that she permits me the opportunity, and if her intentions prove opposite, I shall receive the command from her own mouth, which her Letter did not clearly explain. You will find it in vain to oppose this Design, therefore spare the fruitless pains to divert it, and if my life be dear to you (as you have often protested) remember you aught to assist me in all such things as are ordained to make it suffer.  
Arsanes stood astonished at my resolution, but found it impossible to fasten any reason upon it; and the night had no sooner made its dark approach, but clad in one of my servants habits, with one attendant I returned to the City, desiring Arsanes to stay with the rest, the better to hide my departure, and expect the Orders I should send him as the event advised.  
I reentered the City, and found no difficulty to conceal myself in such a confluence of People, that filled it in all parts, and getting within twenty paces of Sohemus his House, I sent my man thither; who happily encountered him entering his own Gate, being newly returned from the Palace. Sohemus was amazed to see me, not thinking it possible that I should re-attempt the danger I lately escaped with so much ado. Ah! my Lord, said he, is it possible I see you again in a place where to day you ran so great a hazard of your life? Be not astonished, dear Sohemus, said I, I have a passion can produce stranger effects, they that have courage enough to list an Eye to Mariam, cannot want it to despise danger. I am returned, Sohemus, to challenge that of your friendship which you promised, and that which I ever expected from you; I come to the Queen, by your means, if it be possible, and if your assistance can create me so happy, that benefit shall complete your purchase of the Heart of a Prince, that you have powerfully gained.  
Sohemus' heard my entreaty, with much desire to oblige me, but found so little facility in the attempt, as he stayed a long time before he could shape an Answer; at last, when he had thought enough, My Lord, said he, You desire effects of my obedience so difficult and dangerous, as I know not in what fashion I shall find it possible to serve you; since yesterday the Queen hath been more strictly watched than formerly; and though the King has not yet discharged the thunderbolts, which we feared would fall from his violent choler, yet he still keeps her in terms of distrusting his fury: nevertheless, she is not so rigorously observed, but (if her consent be not wanting) you may see her; but, as I believe, she will not approve your attention, so I fear she will not contribute those things to the interview, as are in her power to effect; however, for your sake, I will run the hazard, and it shall be no fault of mine if you be not satisfied.  
At these words I often embraced Sohemus, and weighing the truth of what he had said, I long consulted with him upon the order we were to observe; all the ways were blocked up with difficulty and peril; at last we fixed upon one that we judged the least dangerous; and Sohemus, not willing to stay me longer in the street, led me through a private door and up a little pair of Stairs, not unknown unto me, to the Eunuch Phylon's Chamber, the Eunuch was then with the Queen; but his Chamber door was opened to Sohemus: by a Servitor that waited there; Sohemus went that way to the Queen's Lodgings, while I expected his return in the Gallery, without a Light.  
My fear to afflict your Patience, makes me forbear the repetition of Sohemus and Phylon's Dispute with the Queen to dispose her to see me; the anger she expressed against them and me, and the pains they took to obtain the grace I demanded, I refer to your apprehension; for your reason cannot be a stranger to what might be alleged on both sides; and shall content myself to tell you, that after a long contestation, at last the Queen consented to see me in Cleophees Chamber, where by her she was only attended, while Sohemus and Phylon were set Sentinels at both advenues to prevent a sudden surprisal. You will possibly find, Madam, something worthy of censure in this condescent of Mariam, and judge with rigour, that she ought not to have bowed to my Passion with so much indulgence, after she had given in the whole course of her Life such haughty proofs of a marvellous Virtue; but when you shall know what she intended, you will doubtless conclude this action did not spot her whiteness. Sohemus' returned to the place where he left me, to conduct me to Cleophe's Chamber, where I entered trembling, and the Queen immediately after me; I had scarce the assurance to lift my eyes to her Visage; so weak I grew at the apprehension of an angry look, which my fears told me I had provoked by importuning a favour that my merits could no way challenge; indeed methought I saw some Choler sit upon her brow, but while I threw myself at her feet, and embraced her knees, without the utterance of a single word: Is it possible, said she, that you could have so little consideration of the repose of my Life and Reputation, to hazard both so visibly; and after having led my life, till now, with such caution, you should force me to see you by night in a disguise, without any other necessity then to soothe your unjust Passion? have you done well to exact this from Mariam, when you had so lately reduced her to the greatest extremities that ever Princess of her condition and propension did encounter with? nay, can yourself approve that (which in your favour I now do) against all the Rules of Prudence and Reason? But do not Tyridates, pursued she (sitting her down, and forcing me to rise) do not hastily condemn this Action; see the end, before you pass a disadvantageous Judgement: if I had not condescended to see you, as I had many reasons to dissuade it, I had miss the occasion of preventing such attempts for the future; which I will now do, by putting an Order in force for my own repose, and yours too if it be possible.  
At these words she stopped; and, while her Discourse lasted, having recovered a little assurance, I took the advantage of her silence, and lifting up my eyes to her face, which till then I had not dared to behold, but by stolen glances: Madam, I confess said I, that I am yet more culpable than your words have made me; and though my intents have been innocent, the ills you have suffered through my occasion, do render me the most criminal amongst all men: I am therefore come, Madam, to protest at your feet, that all my Blood, that a thousand such Lives as mine, can never requite the least of your displeasures; and to conjure you by all that is capable to persuade, that I may have leave to spend this poor Life to purchase the repose of yours; employ the courage of Tyridates to break the Chains of your Calamities. I know I have committed a fresh offence in seeking means to petition your Goodness for this last favour, which I never have, nor shall ever merit; but it is not just, nor can my Passion excuse it, that after having been the cause of so many of your misfortunes, I should securely retire from the pursuits of Herod, and abandoning you to his Cruelties, leave you, by shameful flight, in his savage hands, to seek a Refuge at Rome, while you stay here exposed to his fury: This only consideration, Madam, hath had power to shut my eyes upon that danger, against which you have exposed such a miracle of goodness: and in fine, I have learned to believe, that if any man may unfetter you from your Miseries, you ought to hope it from none but Tyridates, as a Glory only due to him. I am now no longer retained by Hospitality, nor awed with the memory of my first Obligation; Herod's Sword and Poison have cancelled those; either of which would have infallibly destroyed me, had not your adventurous pity prevented the Blow. To you only, my Divine Queen, this Life, such as it is, is indebted for its Being, and you would have me have carried it away without offering the Sacrifice where it was due; it was yours by Gifts, yours by preservation, and can you think it reasonable, that I should wander with it among the Romans, instead of coming to submit it to my Sovereign? Ah! no, continued I, casting myself at her feet, do not reject that which would reject its own being but for you, and that which you cannot justly disavow, do not grudge it the hazard of Herod's rigour, by dooming my soul to those gloomy Woes, a thousand times more black than the night, in which he would have closed my eyes for ever; or if the presence of this wretch does importune or discompose your quiet, give leave that death may free you of him, from which you have but in vain preserved him in Judea, since he must infallibly receive it elsewhere from the rigour of this separation.  
I had said more in the transport to which I had abandoned myself, if the Queen, who suffered with repugnance full of deadly fear, had not set bounds to the spacious Discourse I meditated; and after she had interrupted me with a command to rise, Cease Tyridates, said she, to make these offers which I cannot so much as hear without offending Virtue, and remember I have told you a thousand times, that the Crime of Herod cannot authorise mine; if I owe nothing to him, as to the quality of a Husband, yet the debt to my God and myself, can never be satisfied. I will quit the World when it pleases Heaven to release me, without the Crimes of these Miseries: or if it have decreed them a longer date, I must still have patience to endure them; 'tis this I oppose, in few words, to the desires you express to wipe away my displeasure; I am neither permitted by Law Divine or Humane to serve myself of your assistance: for that which regards your departure, know Tyridates, it is an indispensable necessity, that you suddenly resolve it, that I am now half constrained to an action unbecoming my quality and duty; and can no more consent to see you with so much danger of life and reputation; and in fine, must entreat you never to see me more. Be not astonished at these words, you have courage enough to be prepared for them, and possibly affection enough too for me to weigh all the reasons that oblige me to this Entreaty. I will not speak of my Life, which can never be safe while you are in Judea; for it was never happy to be worth the prising; if my honour be dear to you, if you can balance the prejudice of your own repose, and remember the suspicions of Herod, the malice of Salome, and the knowledge myself hath of the fault you have committed, you must conclude that the stay of Tyridates must be incompatible with the reputation of Mariam.  
She stopped at these words, while I stood stiff and motionless to hear the rigorous sentence of my Death; and after I had sometime beheld her with an action that would have let in pity, if too strong a resolution had not denied it entrance: Then Madam, said I, you condemn the unfortunate Tyridates to a perpetual banishment, and you believe you are more gentle than Herod, in commanding him never to see you more: Ah! if you have that thought, for the God's sake lose it, and do not believe that any Duty can with reason oblige you to that, which you would not do but for want of affection.  
The affection I have born you, replied the Queen, with an unmoved aspect, is not probably such as you have pretended to, nor could it justly oblige me to that I have already done to please you: content yourself that I have not been sparing in the acknowledgement of your deserts, nor the esteem of your reason, that therein I have passed the precise limits my estate prescribed me, and (since a perpetual separation permits me to avouch it) I have not been so insensible, but if Heaven and my Parents had left me in a condition to my own choice, and Tyridates embraced the true Religion, I had preferred him above the rest of Mankind.  
The Queen used some violence to bring forth these words, though they all wore the Badge of Innocence, when my Soul drew all the consolation it had then capacity to hope for. Ah! Madam, said I, how glorious is my Destiny, and how little cause of complaint hath this Declaration left me? But Gods! yet glorious as I am, I must be banished for ever: Oh hard Sentence, that alone can balance the glory you have given me! rigorous doom of my Death, which I cannot, and yet I ought to undergo without a murmur, since my Queen pronounced it! No Madam, it is not just, you should disturb your quiet, not just I should put your life in danger, not just to spot your candid reputation; but it is less just to abandon you to Herod's Mercy, that I should fly to a Haven, while you ride it out in the Tempest; why should I carry this unfortunate and vagabond life among the Romans, while you remain submitted to the frantic fits of that savage Man? Must I for ever shut my eyes upon those Lights, my Soul can only acknowledge glorious, while those of Herod and his Jews are cheered with the Divine Beams, to which I must bid an eternal Farewell? at least set some limits to my Exile, or give me time to prepare for it, and while that lasts, let Sohemus be once more permitted to bring me to your presence; I should do what is possible to bow my Soul to an unrepining obedience; but to bid you now adieu, now to rend myself from you for ever, is more than my heart can resolve, without leaping a most desperate precipice.  
I uttered some other expressions full of transport, which the Queen heard with an admirable patience, but not with so much assurance; for whether it was the remembrance of her condition, (which I had awakened) or the pity she took of my Misfortunes, her fair eyes let fall some tears: But I saw she was troubled that I perceived it; and now, desirous to put an end to this dangerous Discourse, she rose from the Chair she sat on, and approaching to me with an Action that spoke her resolute: Tyridates, said she, though you appear sensible of the displeasure you take to quit me, I think your courage capable to surmount greater difficulties: If I have any power upon your spirit, I desire to put it all in my entreaty, that for my sake you will support it patiently; 'tis the last proof I beg of your Affection, but desired with so much ardour, as you cannot refuse it, without destroying all that you have gained within me: release your fears for me: Though you leave me in Herod 's Hands, all succour hath not forsaken me, as you imagine; I have still a Defender in Heaven, who is not too weak to protect me from the Cruelty of a Husband: In him I shall ever find my Refuge and my Comfort; and doubtless so should you too, were you enlightened with his Beams: Adieu Tyridates, take my last Adieu; if sometimes you remember me, at least forget my Weakness, and the Faults you have made me commit.  
At these words (seeing me fallen at her feet in a condition that left me no reason to reply) she bowed down, and taking my Head between her Hands, kissed me on the forehead: and this was the greatest and most signal favour I ever received of Mariam; which, so soon as she had bestowed upon me, she retired to her Chamber, and shutting the door after her, disappeared from my eyes for ever.  
The heart of Tyridates was so overcharged when he came at this sad piece of Story, that he found it impossible to go on before he had given passage to some sighs, that stopped the pursuit of his Discourse. The fair Queen was so sensibly touched at this Story, as she suffered compassion to steal some liquid Pearls from her eyes; but when he was returned to himself; I know not, Madaw, said he, what to say more, for the rest of my life is as unworthy of your attention, as my pains to recount it: you may imagine, if you please, the Woes that rend my heart when I saw myself forced to endure my Life, and support my Miseries by the Command of Mariam; I vow by all the Gods, that neither Fear nor Cowardice had a hand in the Religious observance of my Queen's Injunctions: but such an obedience as must ever be twisted in my Thread of Life, disposed me (by the assistance of Sohemus) to depart the Palace and City, whence I returned to my Followers, took my way to Rome, and presented myself to Augustus.  
I know, Madam, you will easily remit the Relations of that tedious Voyage, and the wearisome residence I made with the Emperor, for it contains nothing capable to divert you. And indeed the remembrance has so freshly set my griefs a bleeding, as I find myself unable to be more particular; be pleased then only to know, that I have ever since lived in darkness; that neither the Caresses of the Emperor (who always nobly treated me) the pomp of Rome, nor all the pleasures that were daily proffered in that great Mistress of the Universe, could ever give my griefs a moment's ease; when after I had there worn out a year without an hour of repose, the fear my Melancholy might render me insupportable to the Emperor and his Court, made me abandon it, without designing any other retreat or intention, but to breathe the anxieties that denied me quiet; When after I had long wandered upon Earth and Water, I was cast upon this Coast, where I have since made my miserable residence: a condition, though mean, yet better suiting with my humour than that I enjoyed in the Courts of Kings.  
It only now remains to tell you, that about a Month since I remembered Mariamne's Command extended no farther than my banishment, that she had not forbade me to inform myself of her Condition, which made me send my faithful Arsanes into Judea to learn it.  
This Voyage he undertook out of hope to live there unknown, till possibly he might find the Queen in so relenting a condition to repeal my Exile. I attended his return in this solitary Mansion, which for some Presents I obtained of an Alexandrian for the time I shall stay upon this Coast, and I confess I tasted more sweetness in this solitude, than I could have hoped from the continual perplexities of my Soul; besides, I cannot call it less than a comfort to my grief, that I have had the happiness to render some service, and to give this poor retreat to so great a Princess.  
Thus Tyridates closed his story, and the Queen, who had lent him a serious attention, made both her Action and Discourse express how much she was interessed in his Fortune.  
Your Relation, said she, after some other words, hath sensibly touched me, as the misfortune of a great and virtuous Prince, whom Heaven hath persecuted; but if I commend your respectful affections, I must not forget to praise Mariamne's Virtue, that in so just and great occasions to hate her Husband, so courageously resisted the Batteries of your Affection, and the motions of that inclination, which, if I judge aright, she had toward you: Indeed she was obliged to the Rules of her Duty; but it is not easy to acquit the debt that often exacts such weighty payments, and defend herself from the excellent qualities of such a Prince as Tyridates.  
Tyridates' retorted this obliging Discourse in very submissive Language; and the Compliment would have lasted longer, if the Queen's Supper had not interrupted it, which made Tyridates respectively withdraw, because she supped in her Bed, and (deeming her weariness required what was left unspent of the night for repose) he bade her good night: but before he left the Chamber; It is not just, said she, you should longer be ignorant of her Name and Fortune, whose Life was so lately your Gift; and that since seconded by a noble entertainment. Eteocles (continued she, pointing at the man that was preserved with her) shall begin the Relation, and when you have learned those Adventures that have preceded mine, whereof no man is better instructed than himself, you shall know the particular accidents of my Life from my own mouth. Tyridates civilly returned his thanks for this promised favour; and quitting the Chamber, returned with Eteocles to his own, whom he compelled to sup with him, though upon knowledge of his quality, he would modestly have refused the honour. After Supper, he caused him to be conducted to his Chamber, and himself went to Bed, where he passed that night in his ordinary inquietudes.  
So soon as he waked the next Morn, he saw Eteocles in his Chamber, that came to give him good morrow, whom the Prince courteously received, made him come nearer, and remembering that from his mouth he was to expect the beginning of those Adventures he longed to understand, invired him to a Seat by his Bedside; and having forced him to sit down: You see, said he, a very inquisitive Man, loath to dispense with the Charge the Queen hath given you, and I can neither find time nor place more commodiously favourable than this, to require satisfaction; for it will not be a civil hour to visit the Queen, till two or three be expired. Sir, said Eteocles, I believe what she suffered yesterday will ask this morning's repose to unweary her; the time I cannot better employ than in rendering proofs of my obedience to both your Commands. And after a preparation of a short silence, he thus began his Discourse.  

The HISTORY of Julius Caesar, and Queen CLEOPATRA.  
BEfore I can enter the Relation of that great Queens Adventures, whom I have now the honour to serve, I must of necessity go back to the Life of another Queen, Illustrious for Greatness, Beauty, and the Accidents of her Life above all others that ever preceded her: You may easily judge, it is the Queen Cleopatra I intent to speak of, whose Name is not only known in this Country, that was under her Dominion, but has stretched itself to the remote corners of the World, and will doubtless be a task for the Memory of Fame till the last Age.  
Of the Accidents that befell her with Anthony, none are ignorant; I shall only therefore lightly touch them; but because her Enemies have endeavoured to black her Reputation with what happened in her greener years with the great Julius Caesar, I am obliged in Conscience (as he of all men with whom the Truth is best acquainted) to defend her memory from that Calumny, and give you a faithful account of those passages comprised in as few words as possible.  
The Queen Cleopatra was Daughter (as sure you have heard) to King Ptolomee, surnamed Auletes, and descended with King Ptolomee her Brother, from that glorious stock of Kings, that since the great Ptolomee, friend and successor of Alexander, hath continually swayed the Egyptian Sceptre. This Princess was born with all the graces that the Gods could bestow upon a mortal person; the Beauty of her Body could not be matched upon Earth nor had that of her Spirit less advantages: and the greatness of her Courage infinitely raised itself above her Sex; I would say more, if Renown had not saved me a Labour, and those Gifts of Heaven been too fatal to let me dwell delightfully upon the Story.  
But the Prince Ptolomee her Brother, was not so by inclination; but being naturally prone and propense to Vice, he suffered his flatterers by pernicious Counsels, to corrupt and deface all that impression of good that his high Birth had left upon his Spirit; which, in fine, tumbled him headlong in his last misfortune. He received the Crown very young, by the death of the King his Father; and the unbridled liberty which he found in that absolute power, sunk him in all his vices. The Egyptian people discontentedly considering these sad beginnings of his Reign, and sighing to see themselves subjected to a Prince so unworthy to Command, began to turn their eyes upon the Princess Cleopatra; and perceiving how much she differed from her Brother, in Spirit, Majesty, and all things else that might render a person worthy of a Sceptre, they repined that her Sex was an obstacle to their wishes; and every meeting would freely confess to one another, how much more they thought she deserved their allegiance than Ptolomee, or rather Pothinus, Theodorus, Ganymede, with the rest of the Rabble of vile flatterers, which he took up from the dust, to lift them to the highest Dignities; or rather to give them the Sovereign Authority.  
This unworthy Crew having once perceived that Cleopatra's Credit was like to extinguish theirs in every Egyptian Breast, began to render her suspected to her Brother, and easily persuaded that poor spirit, that it was fit she should perish; The ungracious Prince suddenly resolved to give the blow; but (having notice of his evil intention) she retired from the Court, and sought a refuge among those Egyptians which she believed did best affect her: nor did they abuse her confidence; for a great part of the Realm armed itself in the quarrel, divers Cities declared for her, and if her party was not the most puissant, at least it was composed of the honester sort of Egyptians, that a long time kept her safe behind their Bucklers, against all the Forces the King could make.  
At last, after the inequality of number had given Ptolomee some advantage, he besieged the Princess his Sister in the City of Pelusium, whither she was retired.  
At that Siege he was busied, when the infortunate Pompey (a dreadful example of Fortune's inconstancy) that great man that had triumphed over three parts of the World, and by an infinite number of Victories had justled for precedency with the renown of Alexander; flying from the Battle of Pharsalia, came to throw himself into his Arms, there to seek an Asylum against the pursuit of his victorious Enemy. Indeed all sorts of honour and assistance were due from Ptolomee to the dignity of that Grand Captain; and doubtless any Soul but his would have received him (that a few days before was the greatest of all men,) with a submiss respect to his precedent condition: but that disloyal man (only prising his present Fortune, and not his Virtue) harkening to the pernicious counsels of Pothinus, Theodorus and Ganymede, that represented how advantageous an amity the death of Pompey might gain him with his Enemy, butchered that unfortunate Prince upon the shore of Pelusium, in the sight of his Wife Cornelia, who hardly escaped (by the Succours of her own men) from the same destiny,  
The belief I have that Fame has made you acquainted with this pitiful History, the importance of which spread it over the Earth, makes me contract it in a small Volume. A few days after, Ptolomee understanding that Caesar was come into Egypt, and hearing he disapproved the cruel War he made against his Sister, raised his Siege from Pelusium, and bend his course towards Alexandria, where he stayed his coming up.  
Cleopatra no sooner saw her City ungirt, and herself at liberty, but by the counsel of her faithfullest Servants, and especially of my Father Apollodorus, who had ever much credit with her, she resolved to throw herself at the feet of Caesar, and demand his protection before he arrived at Alexandria. This design was presently executed, and she and her Train wafted over with a winged diligence to the Isle of Farion, where Caesar had made some small abode. I was of that number that attended her, and because of the faithful service which my Father ever rendered her, none had freer access nor greater credit than myself. The great Caesar being advertized of her arrival, came to meet her with much Civility; and because I was present at that interview, 'tis fit I should recount some of the particulars.  
Cleopatra, the better to advance her design, had that day called both Art and Glory to wait upon her Natural Beauty, that it might sparkle at the best advantage; and though in her habit she had affected a Modesty, conformed to her present estate, and therefore concluded Mourning more becoming than Pomp, in an action wherein she was to appear a Suppliant; yet both her Mourning and her Modesty were set off with what was more great and pompous than the dazzling Luxury of Gold & Jewels could boast: Her Eyes darted Beams more Glorious than the richest Diamond could sparkle, and the Majesty of her Port and Visage did more loftily express her quality, than could be done by a magnific and a numerous train of Servitors.  
If her view put Caesar and his Followers to their wonder, I confess too the visage of that brave man, the greatest not only of his own, but of all the Ages that preceded it, stamped a respect in all our Souls, that made us regard him, as if he had been a God. That prodigious reputation he had gained in a hundred Battles, against the most valiant people of the World, and his last Victory upon the Romans themselves, which he came from subduing with a far less number than theirs, gave us an astonishment full of veneration. Indeed his face did not belie the dignity and grandeur of his actions: And though there was something missing there that must needs go away with his vigorous youth; yet there appeared all the marks of a perfect Greatness: his Looks so imperious, and yet so full of sweetness, that it was not easy to take him for less than the Master of the Universe. Caesar and Cleopatra before they spoke, spent some time in gazing at one another, making their looks and silence express their mutual admiration; but at last Cleopatra (considering she was in his presence that had her repose and fortunes in his hands, or rather was the Master of her Destiny) bowed her haughty Disposition, and forcing a more than ordinary humility, from the dexterity of her spirit, threw herself at the feet of Caesar, and resisting his earnest and vehement entreaties to rise: You see Great Emperonr, said she, you see at your feet, the Daughter of the Ptolomees, that is here to demand that of you against a cruel Brother, which from his Arm she might expect against other Enemies. Oppressed Innocence and Imbecility implore your assistance, and do proffer a brave employment to your Generous Bounty, that cannot show itself in a more becoming garb, than in protecting a Princess, persecuted by unnatural Cruelty, in her Fortune, Repose and Life, in the same estate my Ancestors commanded, part of which is my Legitimate Inheritance; I have now no other Retreat but your Favour, and if that be denied me, I must render up myself to a Brother's Cruelty, in whom neither my Blood, Sex, nor Youth can ever engender pity. Let me not embrace your victorious Knees in vain, before which, all that is great on Earth, must learn Obedience, and confess thee as great and as much Caesar in generosity, as in that triumphant bravery, that has made thee Master of Rome, and with her, of all the World beside.  
The fair Princess had doubtless said more, if Caesar (no longer able to hear, or suffer her upon her Knees, though accustomed to see Kings whole days in the same posture) had not employed (after the trial of entreaty), the force of Arms to raise her; and having placed her in an estate better conformed to what her Beauty might claim: Fear not, Cleopatra, said he, the Roman Arms shall defend thee from thy Brothers threatenings; and if he contemns our Prayer, we will not leave Egypt till we have provided for thy Repose and Fortune.  
He pronounced these words with a Roman gravity, and a Majesty that equalled his condition; but a while after, seconding his parley with the Princess, his temper was so softened with the charms he there encountered, as he lost all his Gravity; and in his following discourses put a submissive behaviour in the place.  
After he had reassured her fears by repeating his promise not to abandon her, he told her he would conduct her to Alexandria, present her to her Brother, and put her in possession of her partage in the Realm. Cleopatra's experience of her Brothers ill Nature, gave her some difficulty to resolve it; but at last she was constrained to obey the absolute will of Caesar, who presently dispatched one of his chief Commanders to let Ptolomee know, that he could not see him as a Friend, nor as an Ally to the People of Rome, if he refused to receive Cleopatra, whom he intended to present him, with all assurance of Reconciliation. Ptolomee entertained this imperious Order with a most sensible despite, and had much ado to hinder the escape of some passionate folly; but he stood in too much awe of the Roman puissance to profess his indignation, which made him resolve to dissemble, till time should offer him an occasion to show it at the best advantage. He therefore unwillingly forced himself to submit to the imposed Command, and in the mean time to render Caesar more favourable, he sent him by the wicked Theodorus the head of mighty Pompey; but his expectation proved so erroneous, as that Generous Conqueror, instead of bidding the Present welcome, refused to see it, and commanded the wretch that brought it, to be chased from his Presence, after he had expressed how much he detested his Master's Treachery, in terms full of contempt and Choler; nevertheless he entered Alexandria, where Ptolomee received him with great respect, and many feigned demonstrations of good will. Cleopatra upon this score, was likewise entertained with kind embraces, Ptolomee protesting before Caesar, that he was ready to resign up her partage, and for the future resolved to treat her like a Brother. Cleopatra forgot all the cause she had to complain; and thus accorded, divers days were consumed in triumphant and magnificent Festivals.  
But the Soul of mighty Caesar (wholly invincible as it was) could not defend itself from the Charms of Cleopatra; That glorious Conqueror, that made the World his Trophy, was now become Captive to a Woman's Eyes, and took more wounds in his Treaties, with her Looks and Discourse, than he got in all the dangers of so many Combats.  
This cannot seem strange to those that knew this great Queen; for when she was pleased to set her enticements at liberty, it was hard for a man to try his strength, and come off untaken; before he discovered his passion to the Princess. he endeavoured to give intelligence by his looks and gestures; and when he thought he had prepared them audience, he trusted his Tongue to tell her what she had made him feel.  
Cleopatra was one of the most ambitious Persons on Earth, and that Passion then beginning to gain an Ascendent upon her spirit, made her regard the submissions of that Hero not unwillingly: she had conceived an opinion of herself, high enough to believe that few hearts were so well fortified to hold out against her Batteries; and, observing Caesar's Behaviour, she doubted not but he was struck before his Discourse assured her; the first time he stripped his thoughts to her, was in the Palace-Gallery, where he walked along time discoursing of her Affairs, and the order his intention had contrived to put them in.  
The Princess returned her acknowledgement for his Courtesies, in expressions full of Civility, and upon these terms they were, when finding that no unfit Occasion to unveil his thoughts, after the preparative of some amorous looks that foreran the discovery: I should never have believed, said he, you would thus have requited the Service I render you; were you just, you would not ruin my repose, while I endeavour to restore yours; be not amazed at this Discourse, pursued he, in a more serious accent, in procuring your Liberty, I have let my own fall at your feet, and humbled myself from the principal Authority in the Empire, that I might give it to you in Egypt; I had roused the same Courage to defend myself from you, that preserved me from the Foes that were of Fortunes stirring up, had I not foreseen it would prove too weak to withstand your Assault, and found more Glory in the Defeat, than disputing the Victory. Fair Cleopatra, I am your Prisoner, but with this satisfaction, that I yield myself to the fairest Victor upon Earth, to such a one from whom I may implore mercy, without shame or baseness; use your Victory as Virtue shall advise you, and remember that you cannot still be Generous, and abuse it.  
These were Caesar's first expressions, and to this Declaration the Princess listened without displeasure; for she could not desire more glorious proofs of her own merit, than in the Conquest of so great a man; and after she had studied a while for a becoming answer, she replied in these terms.  
My Lord, I never cherished so good an opinion of that little beauty the Gods have lent me, or those other qualities, that may make me a pretence to the esteem of common persons, to believe them able to subdue him who has taught the whole World Obedience; 'tis not easy to imagine that the Vanquisher of Mankind should hook himself upon so weak a Bait, at least too feeble to hold such a Soul as his: the Gods have form him of a Nature so approaching to theirs, that vain were the Ambition of mortal Beauties to aim at such a Conquest; nor were it just, that (after having tied your victorious Chains upon the Universe) you should lose your own liberty to a Princess, that owes you for hers, with all that repose you have so nobly restored her. Nevertheless, my Lord, I receive this Discourse (full of nobleness) with a respect due to great Caesar, and my particular Benefactor: and if his Spirit has made choice of this kind of divertisement, to unweary if self from his grand employments, I am contented to afford him matter for it; on condition he takes notice, that I suffer all from him as my Protector and my Master.  
Cleopatra finished these words, turning her Eyes upon the Face of Caesar, with a smile capable to persuade him, that her words and thoughts were not of the same piece; and with an action so sweet, and yet so Majestic, as if the Graces themselves had composed it; her Eyes brandishing such an extraordinary brightness, as they shot new flames into great Caesar's soul, who by his fresh wound, became so transported, as he had much ado to hinder his amorous Fever from breaking out into the hottest proofs. However, though with much constraint, he retained it; and regarding the Princess, with Eyes in which Passion was not ill represented.  
I should be angry with you, said he, if I did not know that your Tongue wronged your heart, when it mispized those bright powers that conquered me, for they are able to perform greater feats; the Advantages which my Arms, with the aid of Fortune, have given me over men, are all too weak to guard me from you: I will give my Life (if you disdain it not) for the confirmation of this Truth, and with it submit at your feet all the Vows and thoughts, not of your Protector, and your Master, but of him that consecrates the rest of his days to the Divine Cleopatra, with an entire obedience and submission  
'Tis like he had said more, if he had spied King Ptolomee, whose approach to salute him, hindered the pursuit of that Discourse. But the next day he again renewed it, and as well by words as actions, gave Cleopatra such clear proofs of his passion, as she found not the least scruple to frame a doubt of; This knowledge she managed with much prudence and reservation, not willing to give cause of complaint to a Man, from whom she expected all, and on whom her fortune and tranquillity absolutely depended, yet she governed herself in such sort as he could never take the least advantage upon her, nor find cause to blame her for too much rigour or facility. But she would pleasingly flatter herself with the glory of overcoming him, whom the world had not power enough to resist. The knowledge she took of her own high birth, and admirable qualities, gave her belief she might pretend to all things; and she fostered no meaner thoughts than such as aimed at the Empire of the Earth.  
Besides the glory that shined in the greatness of his actions, Caesar's Person was very capable of inviting affection; and though he was not young enough to keep all those charms upon his face undiminished, that are Lovers Torches, yet he was not so short of those graces, to want much of his primitive vigour; for his Countenance displayed such brave and erected looks, as it imprinted respect in every soul that saw it: Cleopatra, who had eyes as well as others to regard it, finding herself deeply obliged to his noble offices and affection, insensibly fell to tie on her own Chains, and had already begun to engage herself, when the Affairs of Egypt received that memorable revolution, of which you have doubtless heard, and from that belief, I shall abridge the recital as much as possible.  
While Caesar entirely gave himself to his Love, and endeavoured with all the proofs of it to gain Cleopatra's, the wicked Ptolomee, and his perfidious Counsellors, nursed designs very different. They had found in Caesar, as they apprehended, little acknowledgement for the service they had rendered him in the death of great Pompey; and indeed that high raised Spirit (that could neither approve villainy, nor esteem those that committed it) had contemptuously treated all those that had dipped a hand in that black Treason; besides Ptolomee saw with despite, the Love he bore to his Sister, and not without cause, feared that he would favour and support her against against him, in the Partage they were to make: these considerations joined with the counsels which Pothinus, Achillas, Theodorus, and the rest of their perfidious Companions were ever fomenting, made him at last resolve to use Caesar as he had done Pompey, and find a way to his ends by the death of him and Cleopatra. Caesar had lodged none but his most considerable Persons in Alexandria, and to satisfy the Citizens, had left the Body of his Forces at the Isle of Farion, which was so near the City that it might easily be seen from his Chamber window. Ptolomee believed this occasion might favour the execution of his Plot, and secretly causing his Army (which was yet undisbanded) to advance, he made it approach to Alexandria, and assured himself of all those in the City, whom he knew at his Devotion: his Design was ill contrived, worse conducted, and worst of all executed. And it is to be thought, the Gods that abhor Crimes, forbade success to so loathed a Treachery, and so blinded the Contrivers of his mischievous intention.  
Caesar was in Cleopatra's Chamber, when one came to advertise him that the whole City was in Arms; that Pothinus and Achillas, one of Pompey's Murderers, were marching towards the Palace in the Head of a Troop, with a design to kill him at a Feast he had made that day. Caesar did not despise this advice, but having rallied such of his with an admirable diligence, as had time to range themselves about him, he quitted the Palace, and marched against his Conspirators, with an assurance worthy of himself. But before he left Cleopatra's Chamber, Madam, said he, It is not I that seek the ruin of your Brother, but Heaven, who (unwilling so wicked a man should longer Reign) does this day present you the Crown of Egypt. I go now to fight for you and myself, and I promise with the Victory our common Vengeance.  
Cleopatra had no time to reply, because he instantly departed; but her Eyes kept him company as far as possible: and knowing he went to Combat for their common Interest, she aided him with Vows to Heaven for his Success.  
The Traitors perceiving they were discovered, resolved to fight it out courageously, and in effect disputed it very hotly; yet the justice of his cause with his own admirable Valour, gave Caesar the Victory; Pothinus was killed upon the place with the greatest part of his Forces, and Achillas with such as could follow him, fled out of the City to Ptolomee, whom the report of that ill success had made retire with his Army.  
Caesar might safely have stayed in Alexandria, and enforced himself by Cleopatra's Faction, which was none of the weakest; but he rather chose to retire with his Troops to give Ptolomee Battle, and (hearing the Alexandrians of the contrary part, endeavoured to cut off his Retreat, by surprising his Vessels) he ran thither with that handful of men that followed him, doing such deeds against them, as in any other but Caesar would have been accounted Miracles. Yet he there ran a greater danger, than he had done before in all his former Battles; For, no longer able to make Head against the great number of his Enemies, which grew every moment stronger, by the coming up of fresh Reserves, he threw himself from the Cliff into one of the Boats to gain the Isle, but being discovered, he was environed by his Enemies, and pressed upon with such desperate fury, as after he had received divers blows and Arrows upon his Arms, he was constrained to throw himself into the water, and swim that space between him and the Island, not without excessive pain and peril. At last he recovered his Forces, gave order for the Battle, Shipped them, and rowed towards Ptolomee's Army, who conducted by his evil destiny, advanced with full Sails to meet him. The Battle proved very dubious and bloody, but I shall forbear the particulars, because I believe I have already repeated things, of which no person can be ignorant: It shall suffice to tell you that Caesar was always Caesar; that the Egyptians were defeated with a mighty loss, and their King by a just chastisement of Heaven, being fallen into the Sea, was drowned by the weight of his Arms, and not taken up till the next day, where he was found Armed in a guilded Curass, half buried in the Sand. After this Victory, Caesar advanced toward the City, and at the Gates found the fair Cleopatra with a part of the Citizens, that begged Pardon for the others, who (through obedience to their Prince's Authority) had taken up Arms against him; the Princess obtained all her desires, and he entered the City and Palace with her, in a fashion wholly Pompous and triumphant.  
Never was there seen so sudden an Execution, nor so many troubles appeased in so short a time. Ptolomee's evil Counsellors were all either perished with him, or had sought their safety by flight. The rest of the Egyptians willingly submitted to Caesar, who told Cleopatra, that for her sake he was sorry for her Brother's death; but he knew so well how to represent the small cause she had to afflict herself for his loss, as (after she had given some tears to his memory, which such an excellent nature as hers could not refuse him) she accepted the comforts he proffered. The Funeral Honours she Celebrated with much Solemnity, and the following day Caesar having convened the Egyptian Nobility, in their presence put her in possession of the Realm, and with an Universal Applause, Crowned her with his own hands; all the Egyptians by whom Cleopatra's Government was much more desired than Ptolomee's received her for their Queen, with excessive contentment, and rendered public thanks to Caesar for his magnanimity and munificence.  
But the the troubles that agitated the soul of Caesar, were not quieted with those of Egypt: and in giving peace to that People, he had not done so to his own spirit; the eyes of the fair Queen still made war upon him, and prevailed, as if the gift of the Crown of Egypt had augmented her dominion in his heart. Of this he daily gave her fresh assurances; and Cleopatra, who by this last obligation, felt herself engaged to receive them with a deeper acknowledgement than formerly, lived with him in a fashion, as much obliging as she could without offending virtue.  
One day he was with her by her Bed's side, when after divers other Discourses, the length of which would weary your attention, taking her fair hands and joining lips unto them, I die, fair Queen (said he, with an action wholly passionate) I die if your pity does not draw me from my Tomb; and I vow by those fair Eyes, which I adore with respective Veneration, that 'tis impossible my life should longer continue, if your mercy does not strengthen the thread of it. I should be much afflicted, said the Queen, to see it in any danger; the gratitude I owe to great Caesar, and the particular esteem I have of his Person, will never suffer me to refuse means within the bounds of possibility, to comfort him.  
'Tis in your power, replied he, not only to comfort, but create me the happiest of all men, in making yourself the reward for what I have given you; no other price can gratify the present I have made you, I mean not of a Crown (upon which I never set an esteem) but of a heart and a soul which can never be but to you, and of a heart and a soul which I have made yours with a resignation so entire, as I have reserved no power to myself of a further disposal.  
This glorious Present, replied the Queen; can never be requited with the price you demand, a thousand such Lives as Cleopatra's can never weigh with the heart and soul of Caesar: yet Sir, I would bestow myself upon you, as you demand, (pursued she, letting fall her eyes with a kind of shame) if honour could show me the way to do it; I am born a Princess, Daughter to a long succession of Kings, by your bounty I am now a Queen, and which is yet more glorious, by his proper confession, I have triumphed over the Soul of mighty Caesar: Sir, these advantages having placed me in one of the foremost ranks of Women, do oblige me to preserve myself there in a reputation pure and spotless; and should I render myself unworthy of my Birth, my present Dignity, and the affection of great Caesar? should I yield up myself unto him in any other way, than what his virtue can approve of?  
She stopped at these words, supposing she had said enough to be understood, and that Caesar could well enough construe her intentions; yet being by the maxims of State, and the ties he had to the commonwealth, forbidden to make a more ample Declaration, he stood, as if surprised at Cleopatra's words: nor was he yet resolved to espouse her, fearing that Rome would disapprove the alliance, and it might prove prejudicial to his design, to make himself Master of it, as he did in a short time after: but perceiving himself obliged by Cleopatra's words to declare his intention, he remained silent a while, not knowing in what manner to evade the protestations he had made her; but at last he recovered his speech, and lifting his eyes from the Earth, where they had been fixed. You do merit, said he, a condition yet more glorious, than what would render the favours I demand, lawful; the world cannot afford a Spouse to Caesar, more worthy of that quality than the Queen Cleopatra, and I do vow by truth itself, that were I free in that Election, I should soon make it known, with what passion I desire that advantage: but I am now so tied by Interest to the Republic, that I cannot apprehend it expedient, to make my conjugal choice without its approbation: nevertheless, I shall endeavour to express, how much I desire to be entirely yours; and passing by these considerations, in few days, (if it be possible) make known the truth of my Affection.  
At these words Caesar retired, without giving the Queen leave to reply; but after that, she lived with him in a fashion more reserved than she had done formerly, and would no longer licence those petty liberties which before she had permitted him. He observed this change with much displeasure; but so soon as he complained of it to Her, My Lord; said she, you are too just to desire those things of me which I cannot consent to, without my own ruin? and since I must pretend to a quality that may authorise them, give me rather leave to return the Crown you have given me, and resign the repose and the life itself which I hold of you, than licence such Crimes, as neither your greatness, nor all the obligations I have to it, can ever excuse: This Discourse again struck Caesar dumb, but after she had oft repeated her resolution, it wrought such an effect upon his spirit, as made him resolve what he executed a few days after.  
One day, after he had sent to desire a particular audience of the Queen, he entered her Chamber, only followed by Lucius Metellus, and Caius Albinus, two of his friends, in whom he reposed the greatest confidence; he found the Queen prepared to receive him in the manner he demanded, only, accompanied with her two dear Maids, Charmione and Iras, my Father and myself: Caesar that knew us, and in what manner we were tied to the Queen's Interests, was well pleased to have no other witness of his intended action; and after he had paid his ordinary Civilities to the Queen. Madam, said he, I have been too long restrained by such reasons, as forbade me to render what was due to my own Love, and your Virtue; I am now resolved to tread upon those inhuman Maxims, that play the Tyrants with me, and to present myself to you, in that Honourable and Lawful way, that my ardent Passion did ever truly intend: But because this Marriage which I desire to consummate with you, cannot be promulged, without destroying my design to set the Crown of the Universe upon your Head, let me entreat your consent, that it may now be known to no other persons, than those I see about you, and these two friends, whom I have brought to witness this action: In the Gods and their presence (if you consent) I will presently espouse you, and if it may but remain a secret amongst us, till I enter Rome, and there establish my power, as my designs have framed it, it shall then be published with all the Pomp and Magnificence your wishes can invent.  
To these words Caesar added many other affectionate expressions, to render the Queen's spirit flexible to his entreaties, and help her over all the difficulties she found in that proposition. She took a long time to balance the resolution she was to take, and in fine, betook herself to the Counsel of her Maids, my Father, (and if I may dare to say so) myself, but above all other persuasions, the belief prevailed she had of Caesar, as a man that could not consent to violate his Promise given to a Princess of her condition, in the presence of six Witnesses, enough to convince him of Infidelity before Men and Gods, which he solemnly invoked in that action: at last, whether vanquished with Reason, or undermined by her own weakness, she yielded herself: When Caesar putting his Hand in hers, after he had called all the Gods to the Mystery, he protested that he received her as his Spouse, and solemnly swore, that he would never own nor acknowledge any other. These Protestations She sealed with a Kiss in our presence, and to contract the Relation, the Company judging their presence no longer necessary, retired, and left Caesar alone with the Queen, to take possession of those admirable Beauties (envied of all the Princes of Asia) which were then with an unbridled liberty abandoned to his desires.  
Oh Gods! cried Tyridates with a profound Sigh, Gods Sovereign, Arbiters of our destinies, and what has the unfortunate Tyridates done to you, that you should force him thus to trail on his Life, without either happiness or hope, when you dispensed so much felicity to the rest of Mankind? These few words he passionately uttered, with his Eyes lifted up to Heaven, when Eteoeles thus pursued Her Story.    

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA, OR Love's Masterpiece. PART I.  
LIB. III.  
ARGUMENT.  
The Rebellion of King Pharnaces calls Caesar out of Egypt, and invites him to an easy Victory. He leaves Cleopatra with Child. The Birth of Caesario. The early dawning of his rare qualities, both of Mind and Body. Caesar's Victory in Syria against Cato, Scipio, etc. He wins the Battle of Munda against Pompey 's Sons, which completes his Conquests. Comes to Rome, and is made perpetual Dictator. His ingratitude to Cleopatra. He adopts Octavius, and is killed in the Senate-House. The Triumvirs revenge his murder, by the Death of all the Conspirators. Cleopatra 's care in Caesario 's Education. Anthony in his Parthian Expedition summons her to appear before him. He is taken in the Snare of her Beauty: Repudiates Octavia, and Marries her. This raised a Quarrel betwixt him and Augustus, which is decided in the Battle of Actium. Anthony is overthrown, and flies with Cleopatra into Egypt. The Conqueror pursues, and besieges them in Alexandria. Caesario is sent for safety to Hydaspes' King of Aethiopia. Is betrayed in the way by Rhodon, and preserved by the Loyal Policy of Eteocles. Hydaspes receives and treats him as his own Son. Caesario falls in Love with Candace the King's Daughter. Anthony through a Mistake kills himself. Cleopatra dies by the By't of an Aspic. The Character of Britomarus, and his Haughty Pretences. The gallant Combat between him and Caesario. They are parted. Caesario protects him. Moderates the King's Anger to a Banishment. The brave Speech of Britomarus to Caesario at their parting.  
SInce that Fatal Day, which I know not whether I may call happy, or unfortunate, the great Caesar and the Queen Cleopatra entirely dedicated themselves to their unrestrained Delights; and though the Marriage continued still a secret among us, and while the day lasted, they observed the same Ceremonies before Company they had formeryl used, yet the nights by the means of Iras, Charmione, and my Father (in whom the Queen reposed a clear confidence) still revived their Contentments: never did Love appear more amiable than in these two Persons. Cleopatra lived not but in Caesar; Caesar was Cleopatra's Idolater; and they forgot nothing that might prove their Passion the strongest, and yet the most sincere that ever invaded Lovers; the whole Court, nay, all Egypt took part in their Contentments, though they knew them not; and I think Rome herself scarce ever showed so much Pomp, as than our Alexandria was daily dressed in.  
The whole World knows Cleopatra was the most magnificent Queen that ever lived, not only in the pride of entertainment, in the splendour of her Festivals, and the Gifts she bestowed on Anthony; but in the whole course of her Life kept up her Royal Grandeur at that lofty pitch of Glory, where she should still have flown; and then perceiving herself the Sovereign of his will, that was like to be the Sovereign of all men, she forgot nothing that might help her to hold those advantages; and Caesar, not less satisfied with his Fortune, judging her most worthy of his Affection, was never weary of admiring the rare qualities of her Body and Mind, which daily served to make his Love flame higher.  
But at last Fortune interrupted the course of their mutual Felicities, and Caesar (that was not born to waste his life upon a Woman's Lip, for whom all great actions were reserved, and to whom the World's Empire was destined) was constrained to quit Egypt, and with his Army to pass into Syria, where he had learned that Pharnaces King of Pontus, Son of Mythridates, and inheritor of the hatred which he bore to the Roman Name, though not of his Virtues, was up in Arms, and had spoiled a part of Armenia. I shall forbear to repeat the Adieus of these two Lovers, for I do but touch upon their life as I pass by it, and only take it in my way to another Story, to which it serves me for a conduct. Should I enlarge myself upon the Loves of Caesar and Cleopatra, truth would engage me to defend the memory of that great Queen, who doubtless hath been foully blotted by the ignorance of those that knew not of her Marriage; but in that which befell her since, with the deplorable Anthony, I shall make but a short stay; their unfortunate Loves and lamentable end being known to all persons in the World that are capable of understanding.  
Cleopatra's tears were too weak to retain Caesar in Alexandria; but he comforted her with the solemn repetition of his promise, before us, to call her to Rome, so soon as he should be established in the dignity (which his Ambition aimed at) of perpetual Dictator, and then to declare their Marriage to all the World: At that time the Princess began to perceive herself with Child, and gladly believed that the assurance she gave to Caesar of it, before his departure, would yet more deeply engage him to remember his vows, and the dear pawn he left behind him.  
Thus Caesar marched into Syria, leaving Cleopatra in Alexandria, where she governed her People with such Moderation and Prudence, as she taught all men to admire those Politic and Moral Virtues in her Sex, that were rarely found even in men of uncommon parts; she supported the absence of her dear Caesar with much anguish, but she received frequent comforts with the News of his continued Victories: not long after his Departure she learned that Pharnaces was defeated by him in a signal Battle, and the War, which in all appearance was like to last many years, thus terminated in half a day; a little after she received intelligence that in Africa he had vanquished Cato Scipio, and the King of Juba, with a prodigy of Fortune and Diligence; and, having gained that Victory with the slaughter of 50000 of his Enemies, and the loss of but fifty of his own Soldiers, he was returned to Rome, where he had made three Triumphal Entries: the fame of these great deeds pleasingly flattered the Soul of Cleopatra, and she dismissed all her anxieties, with a confidence that such a man could not be capable of infidelity.  
In the mean time no longer able to hide the swelling fruit of her Womb, and unwilling to contract the ill opinion of her Subjects, she was constrained openly to declare the truth of her Marriage, and instead of the shame and confusion her Fear suspected from that Discovery, she found her Egyptians possessed with new joy in the expectation of such a King from her Loins, as might prove a perfect Copy of Caesar and Cleopatra.  
The Queen was brought to Bed in Alexandria (almost at the same that Caesar made his Entry into Rome) of a Son not only worthy of his Father and Mother, but of all that the most fruitful hope should conceive; never did the light salute a thing so beautiful; the Astrologers never knew a Birth so advantageous; for this Royal Infant immediately became the admiration and delight of all that saw it; but because his Childhood was but the spring to that lustre, which hath since appeared in him with riper advantages, I will not stay upon the beginnings of his Life, because they are of less importance. By a general consent he was called Caesario, and we all hoped, that though there was little difference between his and his Father's Name, there would be yet less in their qualities and the greatness of their actions: the Queen took a marvellous care of his Education, and made the whole world to be searched, for the most expert and knowing persons in all Sciences and Exercises, wherein he was to be instructed, when his Age permitted him, and (though I did but weakly merit that Honour, and a better choice might have been made among the Egyptians) she was pleased to make me his Governor; for my Father was too old for that employment, and only desired it for myself.  
In the mean time the Queen, whatever consolation she tasted in the enjoyment of her Son was galled with bitter grief, seeing there appeared no proof of Caesar's promise. Not long after she understood he had given the last blow to that War, by the defeat of Pompey's Sons: that in Rome he had usurped the Sovereign Authority, and forced a Master upon that proud City, the imperious Mistress of so many Kings, and so large a part of the Universe.  
Then her hopes began to swell with the expectation of his Promise, and Caesar by frequent Letters endeavoured to confirm them, excusing his absence from her delights with very specious Reasons, which for a time appeased her; but when she saw a whole year wasted, and yet no haste made to accomplish his Vow, she began to lose her patience, and complain of his infidelity; yet, before she thought fit to make her resentments speak louder, she sent my Father Apollodorus to Caesar, as well because he was the faithfullest of her Servants, as that in his presence Caesar espoused her, and might therefore better than any other reproach the violation of his word: This Voyage of my Fathers proved ineffectual; yet when Caesar saw him, he hugged him in his Arms, entertained him nobly, gave him rich Presents, and often mentioned the Queen with dear resentments of affection; but could afford him no other reasons for his delay, than what he had written to Cleopatra; He protested that so soon as he had felt himself sit sure upon his Imperial Throne, he would accomplish his promise; but in that condition, while his Monarchy was yet infant, feeble and staggering, he found it not safe to enterprise any thing against the consent of the People and Senate, whom he had already exasperated with imposing his Yoke.  
Cleopatra was contented for a time to flatter herself with the likelihood of these excuses; but in fine, after her patience had learned another Lesson as tedious as the first, she broke into reproaches against him, gave herself up to the sway of a just passion, and probably was hatching thoughts to make it known in some deadly blow, when news came that Heaven had revenged her, and that her faithless Caesar was murdered in the Senate-house, with twenty three wounds, by those that he thought his dearest friends.  
This report fell like a Clap of Thunder upon her spirit, and all her Choler could not dissuade her from receiving it at first, as the greatest blow that Heaven and Fortune could contribute to her overthrow. She solemnised this loss with a deluge of tears, and such actions as could best express most passion, and would possibly have abandoned herself to grief, if the last marks of Coesar's ingratitude, had not brought her comfort; for she learned that a little before his death, he had adopted his Nephew Octavius (who is now the great Augustus Caesar) for his Son, declared him his Heir, and obliged him to take his Name and Dignity, without making the least mention of his Son Caesario or Cleopatra. This last assurance the Queen received of her Husbands ingrateful disesteem, kindled a despite that dried up all her tears, and showed her cause to rejoice in the same death she so lately bewailed; however she ceased to bemoan his loss in public, though she rendered to Caesar's memory the Funeral Honours, which she believed due as to her lawful Husband; but her resentments against the Father, descended not to the Son; for, she nourished the little Caesario with as dear indulgence as if his Father had been still faithful; and remembering that (perjured as he was) he had been the greatest of all men; in his face she beheld the Image of his mighty Sire, as another dawning of her Comfort. To him her resolutions intended the Crown of Egypt; and (though the Egyptians perceiving the Ptolomean Race was almost extinct) did oft petition her to make choice of another Husband, she always denied their entreaties, and at last so won upon them by her mild and prudent Government, as they were content to approve her Design of passing the rest of her Life in Widowhood.  
Alas! how happy had the poor Queen been, had she held her resolution; she had avoided those famous misfortunes that made so much noise in the World; and her miseries, with the lamentable Catastrophe of her Life, had not forced tears from her rudest Enemies.  
Sir, I suppose you know that a few years after Julius Caesar's death, the unfortunate Antony, having shared the Empire of the world with young Caesar, since called Augustus, and with him revenged the murder of their Predecessor, by the defeat of the Conspirators, and by that bloody Triumvirate which produced such fatal effects in Rome; passing through Cilicia to make war upon the Partbians, he summoned Cleopatra to appear before him; and because the Queen was too weak to resist the puissance of that great Master of half the World, by the advice of her Counsel, she went to find him in that stately Galley, whereof the Stern was all of pure Gold, the Sails of Purple, the Oars of Silver, and all the rest dressed in that proud Equipage that has since found the World so much Discourse: you have heard of her meeting with Anthony, and the Feasts they made so full of Pomp and Profusions: but as Anthony was first vanquished with Cleopatra's magnificence, so he gazed not long before he was subdued with her beauty, to which he became a slave, not with a servitude parallel to his Predecessor, but such an one as only expired with his life; and would have endured a thousand Ages, had the Gods lengthened their days to so remote a period.  
Anthony was something inferior to Caesar, and therefore Cleopatra in bestowing herself upon him, might seem to descend a little from the height of her pretences: But, since she was resolved to give Caesar a Successor, she could not choose a greater than Anthony amongst men, whose glory was not yet blasted by the fortune of Augustus; his birth was of the most Illustrious, his Person recommended by a number of fair qualities, and brave actions, and his rank no less considerable than the chief upon earth. Cleopatra rendered herself to these considerations, and to the loyal affection of Anthony, who, for her sake deserting the amity of young Caesar, and his Sister Octavia, whom he had Married at Rome, gave up all his interest in the Commonwealth, and his own fortunes that were fastened to it, to give himself entirely to her, and confining his Ambition within her Embraces, espoused her in Alexandria.  
I know the Romans, irreconcilable enemies to Cleopatra's memory, have endeavoured to disprove that Marriage as they did the former, and persecuted that deplorable Queen in her reputation, after they had sent her to her Tomb by their cruelty: but my eyes were witnesses of what might serve to upbraid their inhumanity, and justify her memory against those cruel ones that would still disturb her repose in her very Sepulchre.  
Anthony tied the Conjugal knot in public, but with an inauspicious augury, which their misfortunes did since prove too prophetic. They are so well known, that I believe you are not ignorant of the least particular; I shall therefore enclose them in a few words, and swiftly follow the thread of my discourse, till I arrive at what chiefly engages this relation. Within the first year of their Marriage, the Queen disclosed a double birth, a Son and a Daughter; the Son was called Alexander, the Daughter Cleopatra, and if I had not named Caesario, I would have said that humane eye never saw any thing so fair as these Twins: Indeed I think their beauty was fatal to their House, and a cause of calling down the Divine Veugeance upon Anthony, for so oft provoking the Gods, by showing these Children at public spectacles, with the usurped names of Apollo and Diana, causing them to be dressed in the same fashion those Deities were usually represented in, and commanding the same honours should be rendered them as were ordinarily paid to those Divinities.  
I saw them not since they were eight or nine years of age; but at that time they were the wonder of all that beheld them, and it was thought the beauty of young Cleopatra would not only equal the Queen her Mother, but outshine all that ever were accounted fair.  
Those that conceived such hopes of the Princess Cleopatra, (said Tyridates, interupting Eteocles) had much reason on their side; myself saw her at Rome, while I made my residence in the Emperor's Court, and agreed with the general opinion, that Nature never shaped a face so triumphantly beautiful: She now lives at Court with the Empress Livia, who tenders her with as dear an esteem, as if she were her proper Daughter; the fame of her perfections have already noised them in a large part of the World; and were I not loath to interrupt your narration, I would speak more amply of them. Young Ptolomee, her Brother, was then at Rome, in an high esteem for handsomeness; but the Elder, Alexander, whom you mentioned, was a while since lost at Sea, without any news of his escape.  
Sir, said Eteocles, your relation doth sensibly touch me, for while I have life I must own so passionate an interest in all that pertains, either in blood or alliance to our dead Queen, as I cannot hear them spoken of without extraordinary motion; may the Gods frame them a fortune different from their Parents, and do me the grace to let me see those dear Relics of that Illustrious Family, recover their splendour. But to continue my Story, a year after Alexander and Cleopatra, was born that Ptolomee you saw at Rome, little inferior to the other two, carrying in his Visage the fair marks of a glorius Birth. Never was there seen a Court so Pompous as Anthony's and Cleopatra's; most of the Kings upon Earth came thither to pay their Homage, and many of them sent their Children, that they might have the honour to be educated with our young princes; indeed they were brought up with such care, as was due to them only; and though Caesario was not Son to Anthony, yet his respect to him was proportioned to that great veneration he preserved for his Father's memory: he caused the the Marriage of Julius Caesar with Cleopatra to be publicly proclaimed in all his Dominions, declared Caesario the Legitimate Son, and indubitable heir to his Father, rendered him honours suitable to that dignity; and whether it were to endear his Mother, or to appear kind to Caesar's memory, he caused him to be styled the King of Kings, as he had already Cleopatra the Queen of Kings, and disdaining she should bear a barren Title, he gave her the Realms of Egypt, Cyprus, Soria, and the lower Syria. To young Alexander, Armenia, all Media and Parthia when it shall be conquered. To young Cleopatra, Lybia and Cilicia; and to little Ptolomee, Syria, and Phoenicia. Of these several presents he sent the Decree to be confirmed at Rome, which nevertheless was suppressed by the Consuls, Domitius and Sosius, the very same you mentioned in your discourse.  
In the mean time, you know what Wars were waged while they lived together both in your own Country, and in Syria against Antiochus; The good success he had against Parthia by his Lieutenants, and the ill luck that befell him when he carried the War thither in Person; his resentments against Artabasus King of Armenia, whom with his Children he led Captive to Alexandria, where a while after he lost his Head by Cleopatra's Command, as your recital expressed it. You are not ignorant of the many voyages he made to Rome, where he always resisted the Senate that would oblige him to forsake Cleopatra, and at last fell soul with Augustus by that scornful repudiation that he made of his Sister Octavia.  
In fine, the War being openly declared between these two Masters of the World, their grand factions almost entirely divided it, according to the sway of several affections; two greater powers than these never met in opposition, and the World never regarded an event with so much interest as that, which was to decide its Empire.  
My Lord, you have understood the beginnings of this War; with the divers encounters, wherein Fortune sometimes listed herself in one, sometimes in the other party, till the Battle of Actium, where, after she had long balanced her good will, she declared for Caesar. The miserable Antony was betrayed both by Love and Fortune, and whatever courage the Queen disclosed in the springtide of her Life, was all resigned to the horror of that one Battle, where she assisted in Person; whence flying with sixty Sails in her company, she drew along the amorous Antony, who rather chose to abandon with the Victory, the Empire of the World, then to lose his Cleopatra. You must needs have heard how after that signal deleat they were forsaken by all their Troops; and sure same has told you of the pitisul effects that error produced among them; how upon a false report of Cleopatra's death, spread by herself with design to cure Antony of an unjust suspicion he had conceived of her; that desperate Prince slew himself with his own hand, and breathed his last between the arms of his dear Cleopatra in the Tomb wherein she had shut up herself; you have heard it related how Caesar (having rendered himself Master of Alexandria) came to visit her, brought her comfort, and entreated her to hope for all the civil usage his power could afford; all which the great-hearted Princess courageously disdained, and not enduring to survive her dear Antony, nor to see herself, in danger to be led to Rome in triumph, she called Death to her Rescue, which she gave herself by an Aspic's tooth, for want of other weapons: and how Caesar, after he had pacified Egypt, and left Cornelins Gallus Governor at Alexandria; returned to Rome, whither he led Alexander, Ptolomee, and Cleopatra, the Children of Antony and our Queen. Thus comprised in a few words, I have given you the lamentabie destiny of this infortunate Prince: but you are yet to understand that of Caesario, and I assure myself you believed, with the greatest part of the World, that Augustus had caused him to be put to Death, as same did openly divulge it.  
'Tis true, said Tyridates, and I had my belief from the general confidence at Rome that it was so, where I have often heard that Caesar having taken Alexandria, and advising with his friends what he should do with Caesario, the Philosopher Arrius, who was in great credit with him, whispered some words in his ear, that alluding to a verse in Homer, might thus be interpreted.  
Plurality of Caesar's is not safe.  
And from that hint Augustns (fearing that he might one day dispute the succession of his Father's Empire) put him death. Such replied Eteocles, was the general opinion, and we are happy that it got so much credit among the Prince's Enemies; who possibly without that prevention, would have made their pursuit and persecution reach to the place that protected him: But to you I shall unmask the truth, what ever danger the discovery may threaten, knowing well, I do not hazard my Prince in declaring the truth of his Life to another Prince, that equal his virtues; and it was but to come the right way to his adventures, that with a few words I touched a part of the Queen his Mother.  

The History of Caesario, and the Queen CANDACE.  
AFter the loss of the Battle of Actium, and the disloyal falling away of the greatest part of the Forces, the unfortunate Antony and his Queen shut themselves up in Alexandria, and there attended the approaches of their victorious Foe, with the rest of their Forces, resolving to defend it to the last Man, and the latest moment of their lives; their courage was not revolted with their fortune; for they might yet have protected their Fate, and again debated the World's Command, if the prevention of that disastrous mistake had not contrived their ruin: Nevertheless the Queen, not able to refute her just fears of a sudden wrack, began to cast an eye upon her deplorable Family, that in so short a time were tumbled from the sublimest pitch of Fortune, to the foot of Calamity. Oh Gods! what words (that were fittest to show the marks of a signal grief) did she not give to those sad considerations? There was much reason in her fears that the Victor would make his hatred reach to the Children of his Enemy, and so choke all the seeds of War, that might grow up to give another shock to the tranquillity of his dominion, by rooting out the whole Antonian race; and these suspicions made her oft solicit that the Children might be put in some place of safety; and either sent to the King of Aethiopia, a great and puissant Prince, their friend and ally, who had neither felt nor feared the Roman Arms; or to Herod, a faithful friend to Antony; or at least to some others, whom the change of fortune had not persuaded to disavow their Amity.  
But Antony, who tenderly indulged his Children, could not resolve to see them so plucked from him, or send them to seek their safety from the hands of a stranger: he represented to the Queen, that the Gods that were yet able to send them succours (contrary to the opinion of men) might miraculously repair the ruins they had made; and, should such a change arrive in their favour, they should repent the exposing them to a flight, whose success was uncertain: that if Heaven had resolved to complete their destruction, they might expect a better fate for their Infants from the clemency of their Enemy, than the loyalty of any barbarous Prince, whose friendship, the Child of their Fortune, no doubt would follow it to the Conquerors party.  
Cleopatra perceiving his resolution not to be moved, and herself not able to wrest the disposal of the Children from him, fell to consider of his preservation, whom he had no part in, and judging with much prudence, that though Augustus might pardon the Progeny of Antony, yet he would not do so to the Son of Julius Caesar, who (professing himself the offspring of a lawful Marriage) while he lived, would at least be armed with Justice, to bid fair for his Father's succession, which the other possessed by no other right than that of adoption; the lawful power of his disposal sfolely remaining in herself, (for Antony pretended not to it) she concluded that it was not safe to trust him to the mercy of that enemy, and could find no other way but such a flight to secure him.  
Caesario was five or six years elder than the rest, and then newly arrived at the fifteenth year, but at that age was become the most accomplished of Princes; his beauty never found an equal among those of his own Sex: in the vivacity of his eyes, and all the features of his visage, was seen an air so Majestic as could belong to none but Caesar and Cleopatra: his stature was extraordinary for his age, his force prodigious, his agility and nimbleness in all his exercises attracted the admiration of all beholders, his sprightly dexterous wit expressed such an enchanting sweetness, and his inclinations were always so levelled at great actions, that in his tenderest years, I never knew him nurse a thought that was not winged for an uncommon flight: he was inflamed with an emulation at his Father's glory, and it kindled the same desires in him that it had done in the Soul of young Alexander: but in the relation of his life, which was made him, and which I oft represented to his eyes, as a Model for his imitation, he never set a lower esteem upon his Clemency, Liberality, and Moderation, than his and Valour prudent Conduct; and all the glosses he made upon it, were so many delightful demonstrations to me of his ardent love to Virtue. In an age so tender and feeble to support a Curass, a hundred times has he offered to precipitate himself into Military dangers; and had not an absolute authority retained him, he would have followed Antony to his Battles with an ardour which he found very difficult to moderate: Such a one, or rather a thousand times better than what my expression has made him, was Caesario, when the Queen his Mother (preferring his security to her own delight in enjoying his lovely presence) resolved to lose it for ever, and being confirmed in that purpose, and prepared to execute it, I was commanded to attend him from his Chamber to her presence.  
She could not behold him with a design never to see him more, (at least if the Gods restored not their Fortunes) without resigning that constancy, wherewith she tempered all her actions, to abundance of tender tears; which so softened the young Prince's Soul and mine, as it set our eyes for a while to the same task.  
At last she made an assault upon her grief, and struggling to recover an assured look, after she had wiped away her tears: My Son, said she, though your years be few, your apprehensions do much overtop those of an equal age; and I know you are already capable to make reflection upon our present and past Fortunes; you are derived from a Father that was the greatest of men, and a Mother that may boast to have held some rank among women, and will leave a report of her life behind her, that is not ordinary in her Sex. I see nothing in you, (the Gods be thanked) that belies your Birth, or forbids me to hope that you will not make the Soul of mighty Caesar (now placed among the Gods) to blush at your begetting; If Fortune frowns upon your budding Age, and bereaves you (with those from whom you had your being) of the advantages, which in part you should hold of her, learn in time to slight her, and strain your virtue to captive her smiles, and force her back again. You wear a Sword, after your Father's example, that may one day recover the Crowns you have lost; and if the God's decree (as there is much appearance) that we fall in this War, and period our Empire with our days, you shall stay behind us to win that back again by the glory of your actions, which we lost by the last of ours, revive the memory of Caesar and Cleopatra, and perhaps revenge the fate of Antony and Cleopatra, upon those enemies that destroyed us. These are the hopes, my Son, that move me to study thy safety, when I neglect my own; my affection to thee makes me commit a cruel violence upon my tenderest inclination; 'tis fit we part, young Caesar, that thou mayest go beyond the reach of thy enemy's Arms, and go in quest of a better destiny, than that thou must expect at the knees of a pitiless Conqueror; and indeed it is unfit that the Legitimate Son of great Caesar should tamely beg a life of his adoptive, which he cannot take of him without a blush, and which he must never look to obtain from him, who, in bearing the name and power of Caesar, does neither inherit his Clemency, nor any one of his other Virtues. To preserve thee, I dispoyl my heart of its dearest Sentiments, but (whatever violence I suffer) I shall always think it a more gentle calamity, to part with thee for ever, than to see thee cold in thy urn before I enter mine, to behold thee a Suppliant at the feet of our cruel Enemy, or dragged in triumph behind his Chariot, to that City, which thy Father first ranged under his obedience.  
The Queen stopped at these words, to dry some disobedient tears, which rebelled against her resolution; and, removing her eyes from the face of her Son to fasten them upon mine; Eteoeles, said she, This is the last time that I remit into your hands, the things which I count most precious: I trusted you with his Education, as I do now with the conservation of his life, and with it all my own hopes; let your fidelity express you, by the proofs I ask, to be the worthy Son of Apollodorus, who died as he lived in my service, after he had got the repute of the most loyal servant that ever breathed; Take the Prince my Son and your Pupil, whom I release to your care and conduct, and with your most winged diligence conduct him out of Alexandria, and the unfortunate Egypt, into Ethiopia: The King of that puissant Realm is our friend and ally, and the only neighbour we have that dares think himself strong enough to defend his own against their invasions, and therefore stands not in awe of the Roman Arms; Of him in my name demand a refuge for this young Prince, whom I not only trust him with, but bestow upon him; Tell him our alliance does not only oblige him, nor the Laws of Generosity, that preach the protection of the miserable and oppressed, but the interest that is common to all that wield Sceptres, to oppose himself against the violence of the Romans, those cruel enemies of mandkind that would stretch their Tyranny over all the Kings on Earth. I know he will receive you, and allow my Son all the Shelter you can ask. This night you shall set forwards, for I desire your voyage may be secretly carried, lest our enemies take notice of it, and so endeavour to strike at the life of this poor Prince: You shall have Rhodon and Alexander for companions in your flight, with a few Officers most necessary for so small a number; lest a greater train might discover the design, and betray my Son to such dangers, as my timorous apprehension is apt to ●rame● I shall furnish you with Money and Jewels enough to keep off necessity, while you slay from us in so remote a residence. If we make peace with Octavius, or by the favour of Divine aid recover strength to rear our drooping fortunes, I will call you back again, and with all the haste that affection can make, draw you from an exile, which I cannot support without a bleeding grief.  
The Queen expressed herself in these terms, when the young Prince, throwing himself at her feet, protested he would rather die than abandon her, that in stead of leaving her exposed to the menaces of so much peril, he had courage enough to run her Fortune and Antony's.  
The Queen drawing new arguments from the discourse and action of this brave Spirit, and excellent Nature, felt a painful increase of her affection: and turning her eyes from his face, where they did but gather fresh causes of grief: Great Caesar, said she, if thou be'st ranked among the Gods, since he carries so many worthy marks of thy life, protect the Son that thou hast left me. And then turning to her Son, at first she gently struggled with his resolution, but perceiving that would not do, she sternly employed all her authority, and after she had absolutely forbidden his further opposition of her will, she commanded me carry him away by force, if he refused to follow.  
Young Caesario bearing such a respect to the Queen, as knew not how to dispense with obedience, submitted to this last command: and only in tears expressed his grief to forsake her. I shall not further enlarge upon the Queens and our regrets, to which, and to our preparations for departure, we dedicated the rest of that day: the Queen sent by Iras, and Charmione (her two faithful Maids that died with her with such constant fidelity, as will be the wonder of all ages) a Cabinet full of Gold, and some rich Jewels, which she trusted to my hands; and so soon as the Night approached, after she had uttered her last adieu to us, bathed in a River of Tears, she bruised the Prince in her arms; and and when she had left her last kiss upon his cheek, Go, said she, young Prince, where thy destiny calls thee, the Gods will undertake thy protection, in the mean time forget not thy Father's greatness, and let none of Fortune's rude blows over-tame thee to actions unworthy of thy Birth.  
After these words, the last I heard from her, untying herself from her Sons embraces, she caused us to mount on Horseback in her presence, and without further delay to quit the melancholy Alexandria.  
My Lord, the beginning of Caesario's adventures, carrying much resemblance to yours; like yourself, he was forced to fly his Country, in an age little differing from that wherein you quitted Parthia. He went out of Alexandria with not above a dozen Horses in his train; and he that a while before with so much pomp had been proclaimed the King of Kings in divers Nations, was forced to abandon his native Country, and in that petty equipage to seek a Covert for his life in a foreign Land.  
This sudden and strange revolution of Fortune, may serve for a memorable example to those that trust to her favours, and suffer themselves to be blinded with treacherous Prosperity. The magnificence of Antony and Cleopatra had been excusable, if they had not stained that Grandeur that placed them in the chiefest rank of Mankind, with actions that pulled the Divine Anger upon their Heads; and those that a little before saw so many Kings at their feet, bereaving one of his Crown, another of his Head, (as the unfortunate Antigonus King of Judea, and the wretched Artabasus of Armenia,) beheld themselves reduced to attend his destiny in the last City that was left them, and, a few days after, constrained to take the succours of death from their own hands, which Cleopatra (to complete her calamities) had much ado to obtain, and did at last by an Artifice.  
We parted from Alexandria almost at the same time that Octavius Caesar encamped on the other side, in view of the Walls; and had we longer delayed the Voyage, we had found no passage free. Young Caesario had so long practised Horse-manship, under those Masters that taught him his exercise, as it rendered him the less unfit to undertake the toil of such a Journey; besides, he had enured himself to travel by his custom to follow the chase, which he would do with much eagerness, being of a constitution strong beyond his age; and this proved very serviceable to our design. The first Night we strive to reach so far, as any person, less hardy than himself, would have been weakened with weariness; and about the break of day we stayed at a Village three or four hundred furlongs from Alexandria; where we found it fit to let the young Prince repose himself, while we refreshed our Horses. In that place we stayed three or four hours; which expired, we again got to Horse, but had not marched many furlongs before I spied the Prince's Horse, with my own, Rodons, and three or four others in the company, to halt, and not so much as dreaming of the treachery was intended us, I only imputed it to the weariness they had contracted with hard riding and extraordinary haste: We might have taken those that continued sound; but, loath to part with so many necessary officers, and besides, ignorant of the mischief that pursued us, we were constrained to march so softly, that we had much ado in that whole day, to reach another Town, that was not distant above one hundred fifty furlongs from that where we rested in the morning, and there arrived (our Horses scarce able to sustain themselves) we were compelled to stay that night; but sending for some Smiths that lived there, to search them, we found that they were all pricked, and the nails that hurt them no sooner drawn out, but they were much mended, yet not so recovered as to endure that night's travel. I than began to entertain some suspicion, and to believe this an intended Treachery to retard our Voyage; but yet I knew not whom to distrust, our little Troop was composed of no persons, but such from whom, indeed, we had reason to hope an untainted fidelity; myself excepted, Rodon and Neander were the principal: Rodon was made the Prince's sub-Governour in his tenderest years, and had not a less part in his education than myself; besides, he had a Son there of the same age with the Prince, that was brought up with him, and then followed him in that Voyage: Neander was a man of approved fidelity; and the rest all eminent Officers of Cleopatra's House, as she had culled from such as she thought most true; yet even among those we found Monsters capable of the blackest Treason, and the most prodigious villainy that ever was hatched by humane invention.  
After I had almost wasted that night conversing with cares, too restless to admit sleep, I threw myself from my Bed, in which I was laid in my clothes; and passing into a little Gallery adjoining to our Chamber, I opened a window, to see if I could spy the approach of day; under this window was a Garden, in which I overheard some persons discoursing, and though I had little room for curiosity, unless such as regarded my Prince's safety, yet then, and peculiarly than I think the Gods inspired me with it; the first words had no sooner delivered themselves at my ear, but I knew the voice was Rodon's, and presently after discovered him that talked with him, to be a Kinsman of his, and one that he deeply trusted, called Acetes, for whom he had formerly procured a beneficial Grant from the Queen. The time and place made them exchange their thoughts with a confidence fearless of over hearers; but Heaven was awake in my Prince's behalf, and by that miraculous occasion, beckoned me to his preservation.  
Rodon and Acetes did but enter the Garden when I opened the window, and therefore I believe I heard all their parley. Thou hast made great haste, said Rodon; but is it possible thou couldst dispatch so many things in so short a time, coming out of Alexandria but with us! Content yourself, replied Acetes, that the affair is driven to the mark of your desires, that I spoke with Caesar himself, who well remembered your name, and mentioned the solicitations he had formerly made, to obtain that which now you have offered him: There I stayed, by his command a full hour, while he consulted with his friends upon the most requisite resolution; at last he called me to his presence, commanded me to return unto you, & assure you, that he would not only bestow those Jewels on you which the Queen had commited to Eteocles' custody, butbids you hope for more important favours; and this day to expect news from him upon the way, which your Letter told him, you were to take. Myself overheard the command he gave to a Centurion, to be ready, and I believe they will overtake us before we reach the forest of Agria, through which we are to pass. They will have time enough to do that, replied the disloyal Rodon; for our march has been so slow since I nailed our Horses, while Eteocles and the rest were at their repose, that the Romans will need but a little diligence to reach us; but now let us talk no more of it, for we cannot carry too much caution and distrust in an Affair of this nature. And thus whether they feared to be lessened or surprised by the days arrival, which then began to appear, they left the Garden, and me still at the window, in such a confusion as is impossible to represent.  
Gods! What a strange agony of Thoughts was I then distracted with? To what extremes of Grief, Astonishment, and Anger, did the knowledge of that loathed Treason hurry me? I had much ado to credit my own Ears, in a thing so unlikely; it had almost surprised the use of my Reason and Judgement; The first thing I did was to detest Rodo'ns' infidelity; then, upon my knees, I gave thanks to the Gods for the miracle of this Discovery, and Petitioned the continuance of their aid for the Prince's safety, yet I was much to seek for the continuance of my endeavours; for I saw myself, on all sides, menaced with so much difficulty, that I almost wanted power to conceive a hope of success.  
And now the day had withdrawn all the Curtains of darkness, before I could fasten upon any other resolution than to kill Rodon, and at least revenge my Prince, if it were not permitted me to preserve him; nevertheless, having no time to lose, I returned into my Chamber full of mortal inquietudes, and after I had given order for the Horses to be ready; I wakened the Prince, and caused him to rise with a hasty diligence; while he was apparelling himself, I drew Neander aside (having learned by Rodon's discourse, he was not of the Conspiracy with that Traitor) in a few words I let him know our destiny, which shook him with as great a fit of confusion as myself; while we were talking of it, the unfaithful Rodon came to us, the sight of whom had almost put my power into the hands of Passion; and I was even ready to fly upon him and strangle him, yet, with much ado, bridled it, and advising Neander to the same reservation, we got the Prince on Horseback, concealing the truth from him, lest his tender years being too weak to disguise his apprehension, should betray it in troubled looks, and so deprive us of the means to endeavour his preservation.  
Thus leaving the Town, we took the same way was first resolved, for fear Rodon should scent the discovery of his Treason, and we had scarce marched a quarter of an hour, when the Gods sent me a thought, which I resolved to Act without further deliberation.  
I confess, at first, I felt some repugnance, for the danger to which I was to expose an innocent Person; but the safeguard of my Prince outweighed the rest of my considerations, and helped me in a moment to levelly all the obstacles that opposed my intention: For that reason, making a sign to Neander to keep up with the Prince and the rest of the Troop, I marched softly after with Rodon, whom I had engaged in discourse; but when the rest had left us a little behind (feigning that something was broke about my Saddle) I alighted, making show to amend it, and obliged Rodon to stay for me, telling him that a little galloping would soon recover our company: Besides that, I had some authority over him, the estate whereto his Conscience had reduced him, left him not confidence enough to gainsay me; nor was he unwilling to accept of any occasion to retard our voyage, because he knew it might advantage his Design.  
Thus, when our little Troop had gained more ground of us, and by the help of a little Hill betwixt us, I had lost sight of them, I remounted my Horse, and approaching Rodon, with a look that represented part of the passion that swayed within me; Traitor (said I) thy death is at hand; and if thy Prince must die by thy disloyalty, thou shalt yet want the satisfaction to see him perish, or reap the profit of thy horrid Treachery.  
I had no sooner uttered these words, but my Sword was in my hand; and the faithless Rodon (more combated with his Conscience, than the fear of my Valour) receiving my menace with a pale dismayed look, had much ado to put himself in any posture of resistance; nevertheless with a trembling hand he drew his Sword, but defended himself so ill with it, that, with a facility which took away all the glory of that action, I passed mine twice through his body, and tumbled him upon the sand, where he vomited out his perfidious Soul with his blood.  
After this execution, sheathing my Sword again, I hasted after the Prince with all the speed I could make; but casting my eyes back from the top of the Hill, I perceived the Squadron of Horse that Caesar had sent after us, marching out of the Town where we lodged, which I presently judged to be the same that the false Rodon expected: This sight made me spur up to my company, and when I had overtaken them, approaching to Neander's ear, Neander, said I, Rodon is dead, but our Enemies appear; Take the Prince with you and two of our men, gallop on afore to the Forest of Agria, thrust yourselves into the thickest part of it, and there expect my coming up, with good news, the rest of the day: I will try to abuse our Enemies; and, if Heaven favour my intentions, hinder their further pursuit of us; If you see me not come back to you some time to day, at night pursue your voyage, under the conduct of the Gods, who will not abandon you.  
I said no more, and without giving him time to answer, made him speed away with the Prince and the two that were to follow them, one of which (because of known fidelity) carried the Jewels and Gold the Queen had given us. Coesario, who had a most docile ingenuity, absolutely obeyed my will, and made no scruple to follow Neander, because I counselled it; I could not see him part so suddenly without letting fall some tears as a tribute▪ to my fearful incertainty of ever seeing him again: And in the mean time, turning to those that stayed with me, My Friends, said I, we are betrayed; our enemies are within a hundred paces of us: Rodon stays behind to make discovery of them: And behold the Traitor, showing them Acetes; see, the Villain that hath sold us, has the confidence to stay among us. At these words I flew at him with my Sword in my hand, but was prevented by two of my Companions that stepped before him, as he was preparing to fly, and with two blows threw him dead at our Horse's feet.  
Rodons' Son, whom I caused to stay with us, though he would gladly have followed the Prince, who, as I told you, was of an equal Age and Stature to him, and had much in his looks that over-toped his Condition, beheld the death of Acetes with astonishment, when approaching to him, and taking him by the Arms, I showed him the Romans, that were advancing to us a good swift trot: We are all dead men, said I, if we do not deceive our Enemies, by making you pass for the Prince Caesario; the personating this Dignity will save your life, for if the Romans take you for the Son of Caesar, they will only content themselves to lead you prisoner to their Emperor; if you tender your own and our lives, favour this just deceit.  
The fear of death had so seized the Youth; as it disposed him to follow my fatal counsel, which I had scarce ended when the Romans were upon us, and spreading themselves upon the Plain, began to environ us, and shut up the passage to our flight.  
I than perceived the danger at hand I had exposed myself to, and had well fore-seen it, before the attempt: But the Gods can witness, that I felt no regret to hazard my Life for my Prince's Safety, & that there came no other care to my thoughts but for him and his Conservation. At a sign I made to my Companions, we all threw ourselves from our Horses, and putting our knees to the ground, we encompassed the Son of Rodon, whom I had only caused to keep his Saddle. The Romans, who ran upon us with an impetuous haste, perceiving us in that suppliant posture; were stayed by the command of their Captain, attending his Orders, without offering a blow: but so soon as my voice could be heard; Ah! whatever you be, cried I, if we have merited your anger, turn your weapons upon us only, and sparc great Caesar's Son; Sacrifice us to your rage, if we have offended, but give our Prince his life.  
These words, with our submissive action, turned the Roman Swords (fatal to the innocent son of Rodon) from our throats; for the Captain approaching to him with his drawn Sword: For you, said he, we give you your lives; but 'tis this same Son of Caesar we only seek to take. At these words, making his way through us, he ran the youth through the body with his Sword, just as he was about to speak, and probably to tell him, he was not Caesar's Son. I cannot remember that poor young man's unripe fall without the sense of some remorse for my own treachery; but my Lord, it was otherwise impossibe to save our Prince; and since one must perish, it was but just that the Son of that Traitor should be Sacrificed to his Father's Treachery: besides I had indeed conceived a hope (if hope could shape itself in so short a time) that the Romans would forbear the cruelty of his Murder, and only content themselves to lead him to their Emperor; in the mean time, I cast myself upon his body, and (the better to abuse our Enemies) I made my complaints swell to as high a tide, as I should have let fall upon the Corpse of our own true Prince. The Roman Commander being a man of quality (as good fortune would have it) was touched at my piety, and protested to me, that he had executed Caesar's command with regret: He opposed himself against many of his men, that would have cut off the Youth's head, to present it to the Emperor; and told him they might assure him of the truth without exercising that inhumanity upon the Son of Julius Caesar; nevertheless, at their solicitation, he demanded the Jewels which Cleopatra had given us; but I replied, they were in the hands of one of our Companions, called Rodon, whom we had not seen all that day, and that I believed that it was he that had betrayed us. At this the Soldiers fell to threaten, and began to search us, but they sound little about us; and their Captain remembering his name was Rodon, who in effect betrayed us; and knowing the Emperor had designed him the Jewels, as a price of his Treason, easily believed that he was gone away with them; and desiring he should rather possess them by that Title, than as the gift of Caesar, commanded them to unhand us, restore us our Horses, and set us at liberty, to retire where we pleased. And thus his Men marching after him, they left us about the unfortunate Son of Rodon, upon whom I continued still my Laments.  
When our Enemies were Marched out of sight (after we had covered the body of that innocent Youth with a little Earth, and indeed contribuuted some true tears to his destiny) we remounted our Horses, exalted with our happy success beyond expression, and followed the tract of our true Prince.  
See, My Lord, what has passed about Caesario's supposed Death; they were abused that believed he was ever in the hands of Octavius, for I dare assure you he never saw him: and that if he did consult upon what was to be done with him, and resolved to put him to Death, as you related, by advice of Arrius the Philosopher, it must either be while Rodon's Messenger was with him, or before, while the War was hot between him and Anthony; during which, 'tis true, he had oft solicited us to deliver the young Prince into his hands, or put him to death.  
Two hours after we had thus escaped our Enemies, we arrived at the Forest of Agria, and at the end of it found the Man that Neander had set Sentinel near the highway, to conduct me to the place where the Prince was hid; without this precaution, our task would have been difficult to have found him, because the Forest was vast, and full of Thickets. But Gods! what a joy exalted me when I recovered the sight of my dear Prince! what words did I not utter! what tears shed, when it was permitted me to embrace him, for whom, some hours before, I had been shaken with such just apprehensions? But than what a pleasing satisfaction was given me! when (after I had received my Prince's Caresses overflowing with affection) I learned of Neander the inquietude he had suffered for my absence; and his resolution (after he knew the truth from Neander's mouth, who could not refuse it to his pressing importunity) to return back and run our fortune, without permitting us alone to expose our lives for his safety: A design so Noble (from which Neander only withheld him by force) in so young a soul, pleasingly confirmed me in those hopes I had already conceived of the height of his courage, and after I had expressed my resentments of his Nobleness, and he rewarded us with tears of acknowledgement for what we had done for his preservation; and, as proofs of an excellent disposition paid some to the memory of that innocent Son of Rodon, I caused him to mount on horseback, and so we got out of the Frrest, and continued our voyage.  
My Lord, the particular passages by the way, deserve nothing but silence, and to give way to things of more importance, which I must inform you of. Within a few days we left Egypt at our backs, and having traversed part of the Deserts of Nubia, which are contiguous to the two Realms; we entered Aethiopia, and took our way toward the great City of Meroe, where that mighty King then made▪ his residence. Our young Prince suffered the incommodities of the Voyage with an admirable courage and patience, he was ever the first that urged our departure from those Towns in our way, where I had obliged him to stay and take some repose; we called him not by his right name, lest the news of his safety coming to his Enemy's ears, should make them try to find Traitors in Aethiopia, as they had done in Egypt; and for that cause we accustomed to call him Cleomedon, with design that none there should know him by any other name, except the King, and such other persons as must necessarily be trusted with the truth. But why should I detain you longer? We arrived at Meroe, whither we had sent Neander some days before, to advertise the King of our Princes coming, and excuse the entrance of his Dominions without permission, with the pressing necessity of his flight.  
The King of Aethiopia (one of the best and justest Princes upon Earth, who hated the Roman Tyranny, and ever honoured Cleopatra) expressed much joy at the confidence that great Queen reposed in him, and disposed himself to treat the Prince her Son as his own: he would have given him a magnificent reception, if Neander had not dissuaded it, instructed by the fear that we had to divulge that, which former considerations taught us fit to be concealed. The King, to favour our Design, was content to receive him in his Cabinet, where he gave us a particular audience, without admitting any to be present, but such as he knew would guard the secret.  
The Magnificence and Furniture of his Palace had doubtless astonished any persons but such as had dwelled in the Court of Cleopatra, where there glisterens more sumptuous Pomp and Glory, than all the World beside could boast of; yet we there saw such an abundance of Riches, as custom to behold such sights could not keep us from surprisal: for, (as I believe you know) in Aethiopia Gold is so common, that it is employed by Persons of the lowest Rank, upon the most vile offices: But to contract my discourse upon this subject, I shall only tell you, That as the Majesty of the King challenged our veneration, so the countenance of my Prince wrought an effect upon his Spirit, that soon made him considered as the Son of Caesar and Cleopatra; for he accosted him with a Garb that justified his Birth, and saluted him with a stately modesty that had nothing in it but what was great and graceful, which rather stirred up admiration and respect than pity: I had prepossessed him with some few instructions, which he made use of with a most becoming grace; and after he had rendered his due salutes to the King.  
Great Prince, said he, my Parents, whom Fortune hath abandoned, have bequeathed me to you, with a belief that you will not refuse me your Protection; and with them I demand it of you, as the sole Prince of the World, from whom I am willing to receive it.  
He said no more than these few words, which he uttered in a Kingly fashion; and at the same time I presented the King with the Queen Cleopatra's Letter, who presently acknowledged the Seal to be hers, and in it found these words.  
The QUEEN Cleopatra, to the Great Hidaspes, KING of AETHIOPIA.  
THe Knowledge I have of your Virtues, bids me hope that your Affections will not change with our Fortune; and that having been our Friend and Ally in prosperity, one Calamity can neither make you forget our Amity or Alliance: Upon this confidence, I give you mine, and the Son of mighty Caesar, whom the Arms of his Enemies have chased from his Native Country, and reduced to ask a Refuge, which, but from you, I would not beg of any. If the God's consent to guard us from the Roman yoke and oppression, I shall dearly preserve the memory of this Obligation: But, if (for expiation of ur faultt) they have resolved our Ruin, at least I shall perish with this comfort, That I trusted not the dearest thing I had in the world, but to him, who of all Princes is most worthy of the confidence and amity of Cleopatra.  
King Hidaspes having read these words, and heard the Princes, with a visage moistened with some tears, that Cleopatra's misfortunes drew from his Eyes, he turned to him, and taking him in his Arms: Son of Caesar and Cleopatra, said he, welcome; I see and receive you with an unfeigned joy; the memory of your Father, and the Person of the Queen your Mother in me shall ever challenge a sacred Reverence: Promise yourself, not only the same Offices from us, you might expect from your own, but be confident of our Protection so long as I have a man that can hold a Sword.  
And thus my Prince was received by the Aethiopian King, who presently caused him to be lodged in the Palace, gave command for the provisions of his House, and made his intention known to us, that he would have him treated as his proper Son. His orders were so punctually executed, as in a few days we beheld ourselves in as high a condition in Meroe, as we had formerly appeared in Alexandria; the Prince had a great number of Officers, a large proud Equipage; and indeed wanted no respect that was fit for the Son of a mighty King in his Father's Court.  
His proper name and true birth were only known to such as the King honoured with most confidence: Among the rest he passed under the name of Cleomedon, for a Prince only a Kin to Cleopatra, and something allied to King Hidaspes.  
Tyridates at that passage interrupted Eteocles: Though I have been ignorant of Caesario 's destiny, said he, I have heard of Cleomedon; and the distance that divided us, could not hinder renown from bringing his name among us, and with it the report of his grand actions that carried it. Under that name, replied Eteocles, my Prince did things considerable; and such as doubtless their reputation reach you; but I shall relate them in their order.  
You know the Aethiopians are black; but the Kings having been obliged by reason of State, to make Alliance with their neighbour Princes, and so espouse white women; have partly lost that scorched complexion of their Family. This King, who was born of a white Woman, was only a little swarthy, and the Queen his Wife, who died a year before we arrived in Aethiopia, being purely white, and a most beautiful Princess, brought forth a Daughter that not only Heired her Mother's complexion; but became mistress of so fair a Beauty, as made her the wonder of her own, and the better part of the World beside. This was the fair Princess Candace, and the same bright Queen now in your house, which you delivered from the greedy waves, where she had perished without your succour. To come to the relation of her Life, with my Princes, I have begun you a Narration, which, though something remote from them, will not altogether appear unnecessary; and now I shall conduct your knowledge through all those accidents that composed the present fortunes of those two great Personages.  
The Princess Candace exceeded not eleven years of age when we entered Aethiopia; and we had not resided there above a year, before my Prince rendered his Arms to her triumphant Beauty, and delivered up unto it a precious liberty, which he could no longer hold against the rare persections of that Princess. This passion that entirely sezed his Soul, came seasonably to banish a dangerous grief, and arrested him shortly after our arrival, with the news of Cleopatra's deplorable end, and the lamentable fall of that unfortunate Family.  
This struck my Prince so deep, that all the comfort we could urge had much ado to keep him from his Tomb; nor had we so soon appeased his sorrow, if Candace's beauty had not struggled more successfully with it than our arguments: indeed it was half impossible for a Prince so born, and newly entered an age capable of the sweet impressions of love, to resist such uncommon puissance. And though at first Caesario strove hard to preserve his liberty, yet all his luctation fainted at last, to the confession of his weakness, and buckled to the yoke of a Tyrant, that handled him more rudely because he resisted.  
I did not disapprove the birth of this Passion; for (finding nothing in it fit to censure) I no sooner knew it from my Prince, but indulged him in it, in stead of dissuading. He ever dearly loved and respected me, and not only considered me as his Governor, that had over-seen the growth of his greenest years, but as him that had saved his life, with the dangerous hazard of his own, and to embrace his Interests, had cashiered all other thoughts that had eyes for his own: This knit him to me with the tender ties of such a confidence, as indeed was only due to the Queen his Mother. He opened his heart unto me so soon as he felt the wounds that Love had given it; and having demanded my counsel and assistance, and found me wholly disposed to contribute all to his desires: Father, said he, at Love's first Alarm, I feel a delightful pain; but because 'tis cruel enough to rob me of my Rest, methinks it resembles that Fire, whereof I have oft heard the Queen my Mother and yourself discourse; and I fear it will usurp as much power in my Soul, as it did in the unfortunate Antony. Gods! said he, a while after, what a bright wonder is this Princess Candace? how impossible is it to see and not turn slave to her Beauty? These words were accompanied with divers sighs, which I had neither will nor power to condemn. In the mean time his flame grew daily higher, and in a short time made him a most ardent Passionist.  
I shall forbear to importune you with the large discourses he made at the first sentiments of his Love, and only insist upon some particularities that fell out in the blooming years of this young Couple; and though I am willing to step hastily over those, that I may bring them to an age more rational, yet I cannot silence those passages, which methinks deserved better than to be swallowed in oblivion.  
The fair Aethiopian Princess was born to all those excellent advantages, that the conspiring bounty of Heaven and Nature can bestow; but the beauties of her Aspects, which I presume you have noted, are dim to those that shine within her Soul; they began with her earliest youth to break out with such beams, as were not to be seen but in herself: her extraordinary vivacity was always accompanied with a marvellous solidity; a Judgement elevated above her Sex, and Courage great enough to challenge a rank among Persons the most generous: of this she hath given such clear proofs, as will soon claim your Credit: but before I pass to their recital, 'tis fit I stay upon something that preceded.  
The Divine qualities of this Princess twisted such a respect with my Prince's affection, that he long smothered his sighs, before he durst declare his Passion; and though the sublimity of his Birth, and the merit of his Person might have armed him with a boldness capable to attempt any thing; and the tender age of the Princess, younger by four or five years than himself, might well have helped to discard part of his fears; yet he always beheld her with so much respect, as he wanted the assurance to serve himself with any of these advantages; he daily saw her with more freedom than any of the other Princes that were educated in the Aethiopian Court: and the King, who dearly loved him, gave him a more free and familiar access to his Daughter than any of the rest: She gladly admitted him a Companion to her Sport: and though he had already a solidity that over-toped his years, yet his affection had found the way to sweeten the most serious and important employments: he passed all his Evenings with her, and in the daytime upon her Walks; but still kept himself about her with so profound a reverence, that he took no other advantage from the Princess civility to licence the declaration of what he felt, but by his sighs, his passionate looks, and his actions full of extraordinary complacency.  
The Princess (young as she was) was not yet so innocent, but she had already begun to discern a difference between Actions of Civility, and such as parted from another motive, and (as her knowledge surmounted her age) she observed part of that in my Prince, which his own mouth durst not bewray.  
Caesario, by his excellent parts, was already become the darling of the Aethipian Court; he was grown so accomplished in all those services and exercises, to which he had given marvellous beginnings in Egypt, that he was looked upon as a Person of most refined qualities; nevertheless, I am bound to confess that there was a Youth of his age at Meroe, which my Judgement tells me was no way his inferior, but in Birth; and indeed since some remarkable events will have him mingled with my Prince in this History, he doth merit a particular mention, and cannot without injustice be deprived of that which is due, even from his Enemies.  
Among a great number of Servitors, of which the Princess' household was composed, there were divers young men particularly dedicated to her service, that always kept near her Person, but at such times when Women only had access; these were always ready to receive her Commands, took care of her divertisements, and for that they were particularly employed; for the most part, they were of noble extraction, chosen by the King from the best Families of the Realm, and from some strangers that came thither to inhabit.  
Among these the young Britomarus appeared with wondrous advantage, and though he was the Son of a stranger, who for many years had made his residence in Aethiopia, and it was something difficult to prove his Nobility; yet the qualities of his Person prevailed with the King to pass by that consideration: Indeed I never beheld a person better shaped, neither for Body nor Mind; he had a most comely proportion; in his Face there was that rare mixture of sweetness and gravity; his Eyes full of a sparkling liveliness, but in his Air, Port and Actions, he bore it out with a garb so fierce and haughty, that he seemed to be sensible of nothing less than his own base and obscure Birth: and though his knowledge taught him submission to such as he believed had right to a legitimate obedience, he could never bow to those who had no other pretence to command over him but such as their Birth or Fortune gave them; he lived with his Companions, as if he had been their Master, and though there were some among them of the most considerable Houses of Aethiopia, yet he never regarded any but for their Virtue; only to the Princess he was most flexibly officious, and when any particular service was requisite, he never could suffer, but with much regret, that any of his fellows should be employed.  
This Youth was near about the age of Caesario, but he quickly cherished an aversion against him, a part of which I believe (considering the qualities that got him the esteem of others) his Nature contributed; but there were stronger reasons to exasperate him against my Prince, that in the end transported him to things that merit the recital, and such as have obliged me to give something too curious a description of a person of his condition.  
My Prince one day entered the Palace Garden, to go look for the Princess, and in crossing an Alley, he met young Britomarus, who had gotten a Nosegay in his hand, with intent to present it to the Princess; Caesario perceiving it to be a fair one, desired to make this present himself, and for that reason staying Britomarus, I pray thee, said he, bestow that Nosegay upon me, that I may give it the Princess.  
My Lord, answered Britomarus, it was for that design I made it, and do intend to present myself, if you please to permit it; For that replied the Prince, you may get another, but must needs consent that I may give her this, and I assure you she shall know it came from you.  
Britomarus could not well refuse my Prince's demand, well knowing how high his credit stood with the King ', but he obeyed him with an action that plainly told him with what repugnance he did it. Caesario, in stead of being offended at his behaviour, esteemed his courage, and, to appease his displeasure, would have restored him his Nosegay, if he had not suddenly left him, and shortly after quitted the Garden: he would have called him back, sorry to do him such a petty injury, if I had not dissuaded it, telling him, that Britomarus was not a person considerable enough for him to value his displeasure: but this was not the only encounter wherewith my Prince gave him cause of complaint: As Britomarus was the forwardest undertaker among all his Companions, so he still carried away the chief employment for the Princess service; wherewith, while he was often busied, Caesario entering the Chamber, and envying the honour was done him, would oft take the Work out of his hands, and so constrain him to leave the place; but he always did it with such a reluctance, as made the print of itself upon his visage. This behaviour did not provoke young Caesar against him, though the eye of his affection often looked upon the others officious forwardness about Candace, not without some Jealousy: but besides that, he was of a most sweet disposition, and far from doing the least injury, the obscure condition of Britomarus hindered him from heeding any occasions that might kindle displeasure; for he was remote from any imagination that his resentments sprang from the true motive, that caused them; and suspected not the young man of any other ambition than to raise his Fortunes.  
In the mean time my Prince's fire burned inward, without daring to give his passion vent, though his Face and Actions plainly told what he suffered. At last, after a long contestation, he gave fire to the Train; the first time he attempted it was in the Temple of the Sun, where the Princess being at her devotion, Caesario approached to the place where she kneeled, and standing a long time behind her, let her go on in her Prayers, without interruption; but at last turning her head she spied him, and sweetly reproving the faintness of his zeal, invited him to bear her company in her Devotion. The Prince presently obeyed her, and prostrating himself behind her, I bend my knees, said he, as you command; but the Gods must pardon me, if I say it is you, as the chief Divinity, I must ever adore.  
At these words he let fall his eyes, and the Princess signified by a blush, that she was not such a novice as not easily to apprehend the meaning: and being already confirmed in the truth by Caesario's gesture, she would fain have dissembled, as if she had not understood him: but her blushes betrayed her, and the confusion that seized her would not suffer a reply; her silence made the Prince a little more hardy, and desirous to put a progress to this beginning, he recovered his discourse, and without removing his eyes from the earth, If you refuse my Adorations, said he, you do not imitate the Gods, whom you commanded me to pray to; in their Presence I protest, that the resentments I have for you cannot strike sail to the respect I owe to them: Madam, let me then be suffered to avow this in their Temple; I confess it is a presumption, and the thoughts that ripened it too soaring to hope for pardon from a less goodness than yours; but I have kept them covered with a whole years' silence, and should not now have adventured to let them go, had it been longer possible to hide them; if you find aught in it to be condemned, to you I will not dare to excuse it, nor allege any other justification than the violence yourself has done me, against which greater forces than mine are not capable of resistance.  
Doubtless he had said more, if the Princess had not interrupted him. This language could not justly offend, coming from a Prince, that by the greatness of his Birth, and the qualities of his Person, might dispute priority with all the Princes on Earth: besides, his tongue said nothing that she had not read before in his actions; nevertheless this unmasking did a little surprise her; and not willing to suffer him to go on, I am sorry, said she, you should interrupt my Prayers with language I cannot like, and henceforth you shall do well to find other subjects for discourse: If I have displeased you, replied the Prince, I will not repine to endure the punishment you shall ordain, and if I have been so unfortunate to kindle your anger, by discovering thoughts full of veneration and respect, I shall think nothing too unjust or rigorous, to expiate the offence I have committed.  
'Tis not for me, answered Candace, to appoint punishments for Princes of your extraction; I have only right to complain of the displeasure you have done me in holding a discourse which I neither understand nor approve.  
She pronounced these words with such a serious coldness, as the Prince durst venture no more replies; and receiving the anguish, which Candaces displeasure had given him, at the Centre of his Heart, he retired with a Countenance so sad and troubled, as almost put his Face out of knowledge: and I think this grief had gone further if at the recital which he made of his adventure, my Counsel had not stopped it, by representing, that he had no cause to afflict himself; but that in all likelihood he could not hope a more favourable answer from the Princess, who before had never heard any Language of that nature. Caesario drew comfort from my words, and resolved this first repulse should not disarm his courage.  
In the mean time he lived with her after the same manner he had done formerly, and intermitted not the payment of his observances full of respect and discretion; but she appeared to him more reserved than usual, called him not so freely to her Recreations, and her Walks; and though she still continued to him her first Civilities; yet she kept him off from occasions to renew the discourse that had displeased her: but if his tongue was mute, his eyes and actions became Orators so eloquent, that though her tender years had contributed less understanding than she had, she would have needed no other interpretation of the respect that tied his tongue, and might easily perceive that my Prince his passion, in stead of abating, daily took a greater inflammation from her coldness; and in this condition he was with her, when there arrived a memorable accident that merits your attention.  
At a solemn Feast that was celebrated at Meroe, upon the Prince's birth day, without the City, there were made most magnificent Courses on Horseback, at which the King, with the most eminent Nobility assisted; the young Courtiers were engaged for this exercise, where they appeared in all the bravery they could make; they ran armed at all points, and in the course lanced their Javelins against a mark, and made divers other active trials of their force and dexterity: Caesario was entered his 17th year, and being already strong enough to make a stout performance in all manly exercises, presented himself into the Lists, clad in gallant Armour which the King had given him; his Casque was shaded with white and black Feathers, he was mounted upon a Horse white as Snow which he managed with an admirable grace and agility: This was the first time I saw him in Armour, and me-thought he became it so gracefully, as my eyes could not be satisfied with a spectacle so agreeable. The King, Princess, with the whole Court, fastened their regards upon him with marvellous hopes, and possibly the whole Assembly yielded but one person, whose affection he had not attracted. Before the Courses began, all the young Gallants presented themselves before the Ladies they loved, and publicly demanded their favours, and upon such an occasion they were hardly permitted to refuse them; there was scarce any that did not obtain of their Mistresses, either Knots, Scarves, Bracelets, or other Presents of that nature; only Britomarus made no address, but stood almost alone at the foot of the Scaffold, where the King, the Princess, with the chief of the Ladies were seated, without expressing the least desire of what the other so eagerly entreated: he had purchased so high an estimation at Court, that divers persons became interessed in his coldness, and the King himself having caused him to be called, demanded the reason why he sought not to gain some favour, as well as his companions, to show his activity, in honour of her whom he best affected.  
The bold Youth lifted up his head at the King's demand, and beholding him with a bravely assured look, Sir, said he, I have lived till now among all the Ladies of your Court, without parting with my liberty; and though I have honoured them all as I thought, I have made no single present of my heart to any, nor indeed am I willing to bestow it: I am entirely vowed to the Princess service, to whom your Majesty has done me the honour to give me, and though I ought to look upon her as a Subject, and domestic Servitor, I hope she will pardon me if I take the liberty to protest before her, that I will not ask a favour from any but herself: I never had other aim but at her service, since I was made happy in my dedication to it; and, if I may not enter the Lists under her Cognizance, I am resolved to beg no others.  
While young Britomarus spoke in this manner, the boldness of his action became the wonder of all that stood near him: this raised a cry among them, which re-doubled his assurance, and, swelling with the flatteries of those Acclamations, he advanced to the Princess seat, and throwing himself at her feet, If your Highness, said he, will vouchsafe to honour the meanest of your Servitors with some badge of your beauty, I dare promise that there is not a person in this company able to dispute the prize of this day, nor to carry away the Victory in any kind of combat I shall undertake for your service.  
The words and behaviour of Britomarus were diversely received by the company; many of the assistants censured them as inconsiderate and overbold; and some excused his Youth, and imputed it to that true height of courage, that had shown itself in all his other actions; of this number was the King himself, who, in stead of checking the young man's confidence, witnessed, that he approved it, and commanded the Princess to bestow something on him; Candace was ready to obey, when my Prince, who regarded Britomarus his action, with thoughts very different from the rest, and felt himself stung with Jealousy at the young man's hardy demand, could not suffer the honour was intended him; and conceiving the Princess' favour due to none but himself, was loath that a person so much below him, should carry away advantages, which he durst not petition for: and, in the heat of this thought, approaching the Princess, and bending his knee before her; I was not bold enough, Madam, said he, to aspire to the grace Britomarus has demanded, deeming myself unworthy of it, as doubtless he is: but if you must stoop to bestow it on one of us, I hope I may believe that my hopes have the fairer title, and will not come behind him in defending that glory in all our combats.  
The Prince had no sooner spoke, but his desire was granted; and the King not permitting the Princess to reply, Give the Prince Cleomedon a Favour, said he; Britomarus must not dispute his pretences, and to satisfy him, command some of your Maids to give him a present.  
If these words seemed cruel to Britomarus, they were as pleasing to the Prince, who receiving a Bracelet of Jewels from Candaces hands, after he had kissed it with abundance of respect, mounted on Horseback with a transport of contentment, and presently put himself in the head of those that were to begin the Courses.  
Britomarus was called to receive a Gift offered him by Artimis, one of the Princess Maids: but he would not vouchsafe to look upon her, but leaping on his Horse in a furious discontent, conveyed himself out of the company, without so much as entering the Lists.  
The Courses began, of which I shall pass particular Descriptions, and be content to tell you that my Prince behaved himself with so much active strength and bravery, as he astonished the whole Assembly, eclipsed the repute of all the rest, and confirmed the King and Court in the pregnant hopes they had entertained of him; after a great part of these Exercises were finished, my Prince, desirous to breathe a while, and withdrawing about one hundred paces from the press, to the fresh air, he spied Britomarus leaning against a Tree, and looking upon the manly sport his Companions made, in the posture of a man much afflicted. Though his carriage had displeased the Prince, yet the rejection he had procured him, and the esteem of his good qualities with the grief his looks confessed at the affront was done him, exchanged his jealousy for pity: In fine, his excellent nature could not give him leave to see his affliction, and himself the Author of it, without endeavouring to give him the redress of some comfort: with this resolution he softly gallops up to him, spies his Face covered with tears, and him in a condition sad enough to require a just compassion. What Britomarus, said he, in tears? Is it possible so great a spirit (the marks of which we have acknowledged) can descend to weep for so trivial a cause of displeasure? Yes, my Lord, answered Britomarus, I do weep, and I should weep tears of blood, for the injustice of my Fortune, that exposes me to miseries my courage cannot brook. And have you no greater subjects of sorrow, replied the Prince, than those we know of? No, my Lord, said Britomarus, yet those are strong enough to drag me to my grave, since Heaven, in giving me courage, has not given me a birth that will permit me to make use of it. I am born, my Lord, with an heart as big as yours, and possibly thoughts about it that look as high, only Fortune has put a difference betwixt us, which it may be Virtue intended not; from this blind chance you daily take Commissions to wrong me, and my condition ordains me to suffer it; you have oft provoked me with shame and displeasure, which though respect hath taught me to pocket without complaint, my spirit could not learn to support it without sinking under sadness; had I taken these injuries from a person with whom I might have measured my Sword, (wherewith I one day expect to reap some glory,) you should soon see this discontent dispelled that clouds my brow; but since I am abused by a Prince, from whom I cannot hope that satisfaction, I will turn my Sword against my own breast, and punish the ambition there, for lifting its head so high above my extraction.  
While Britomarus spoke in this manner, the young Prince heard him with admiration and thought he found something in his words that tasted of an unweighed irregular ambition, yet he took notice of a Spirit so bravely daring, as he could not disapprove it: but withal clearly discovering his intentions, and (not willing to smother his own) he answered him with a serious coldness: I did believe, Britomarus, that our distance in quality did forbid all competition betwixt us, that you need not have afflicted yourself for some advantages I have seized, which to my thinking, you ought not to dispute, and this perchance has made me pass by that circumspection which I would preserve with my life, not to injure persons of Courage: I am sorry I have offended you, and really to witness that I am so, I will not seek excuses in my condition, to refuse that satisfaction that may content you; I will grant that to your Courage, which your Birth could not suffer you to hope, and possibly may make you know, that Fortune has not put all the difference betwixt us.  
Ah my Lord, cried the young Britomarus, ravished with Joy, now you prove yourself a perfect Prince, poor Britomarus is a debtor to your Nobleness, for the honour you proffer; My Lord, I accept it with more gladness than I would do the gift of a Crown, and will not otherwise use the Favour, than to let you see, that he that durst not demand it, was not wholly unworthy of it: and since you have offered it with so much generosity, I cannot slight an occasion that proposes so glorious a remedy, for the displeasures you have made me resent. Let us go then, replied the Prince, beginning to be angry, and if you desire this consolation, let us fly the sight of such Persons that may hinder it, our Arms are equal, for I would be loath to use any advantage which you want. At these words he spurred away from the company, and Britomarus hastily following with a fierce joy, they soon lost the sight of the Assembly. Yea they were loath to stay near it; and the Prince, unwilling to be interrupted in the first assay of his Manhood, ran on about fifty or sixty Furlongs further, till they came into a Valley where none could discover them.  
There Caesario stopped, finding the place commodious, and turning again towards Britomarus, We will go no further, said he, let us give our Horses a little breath, and then end our difference.  
Britomarus' his courage was so high flown, as it would permit him to make no answer; and suffering his Horse to breathe a while, he beheld the Prince with eyes that spoke nought but defiance. The age of both was equal, their stature little different, and this the first time that either had worn Arms; they had both Javelins in their right hands, and Swords at their left; their Horses were both good, both chosen for the solemn exercise of that day: scarce had they patience to give them leisure to breath, when after a loud defiance, they lanced their Javelins at one another, with a force so impetuous, as scarce was ever more fury shown by any of the rudest hands that ever were inur'd to the trade of War, which they then but began to practise: their Javelins were both shivered upon their Shields into a thousand pieces, and the young Combatants passed by one another, without the least staggering in their seats; but they soon returned with their drawn Swords, as yet unused to this employment, and advancing them in the air, with an action bravely menacing, turning their Horse's heads, they flew the second time at one another, more eagerly than before: the first blows drew blood, and the second made two deep wounds. Britomarus was run through the left Arm, and Caesario in the Thigh. Never did two young Lions see their own blood drop from the Hunter's Spear, with a rage more violent than that of my Prince, and the ambitious Britomarus: They equally breathed vengeance and victory, and rushed together with so lavish a fury, that if the Gods (like them) had forsaken the care of their lives, their practice in Arms had there begun and ended together. They had each received another slight wound, when my Prince coming close up, laid hold on Britomarus his Arm, and he not refusing to close with a like intention, straight engaged him in his; and thus locking one another in friendless embrace, and putting spurs to their Horses, they fell both to the Earth, where they began to roll o'er each other with a most dreadful fury; sometimes one was uppermost, and then the other, yet neither could keep the Mastery; but in this struggling they lost so much blood, that at last both rising by a joint consent, they were scarce able to hold their Swords; however in that staggering condition they fell to fresh blows, and doubtless would have ended their Combat, and possibly both their lives, for as yet there appeared no advantage on either side, when we happily arrived to stop the mischief.  
Their sudden departure had given us some outrage: We were far from suspecting Britomarus his rashness: but, as faithful care would seldom suffer me to keep my Eye from my Prince, I had no sooner learned in what manner he departed, but without stay, mounting my Horse, I ran after him with all the company I could engage, and we came, as I told you, in a happy time to part these young Combatants, whom we found in an estate that spoke our arrival very necessary.  
So soon as Caesario saw me, he even sobbed with grief to see himself interrupted, and suspecting (not without likelihood) that we would do Britomarus some outrage, he put himself before him in a posture of defence, and crying out to me as I first came in; Father, said he, as you tender my life do not hurt Britomarus, it was I that first assailed him, I compelled him to defend himself, and I will rather suffer death, than him to he injured; I will defend myself as well as I can, said the fierce young man, for it is not fit I should hold it of you, having done my utmost to take away yours. These generous and gallant words on both sides gave us new wonder; in the mean time having taken care, according to my Prince his desire, that Britomarus should not suffer, we hastily lighted from our Horses, and ran to the two Combatants, just as they were ready to fall to the ground with weakness: I snatched my Prince in my Arms, and wetted his face with my tears; but whilst I was helping him on Horseback, and getting up myself behind him, he desired the same office might be done to Britomarus: and not only content to take that care for him, he made Neander get up in my place, and sent me before to the King to beg the young man's Pardon, and to protest, that he would never come in his presence till he had granted it: I obeyed his command, but found it not so easy a task to reverse the King's resolution, who had absolutely designed Britomarus for punishment: but at last he granted mercy, upon condition, that so soon as his wounds were healed, he should leave the Court, and never more return, upon forfeit of his life.  
In the mean time my Prince was conducted to his Lodgings, presently put to bed, and searched by Surgeons; his wounds were found not dangerous, only the loss of blood had done him the greatest mischief; and after the application of some necessary Remedies, they enjoined him a silent repose without any disturbance till the next day.  
In the mean time, the bruit of his generous gallantry spread itself in a moment, and the relation of Britomarus himself to his friends of the bravery and nobleness of his behaviour filled the whole Court with admiration. Oh how gladly I drank up his Praises from every mouth, how sweetly was my fear and displeasure vanquished that his wounds had given me! the gentleness and grandeur of that first action made me gladly conclude him, worthy to be what he was; and though I blamed the Prince for that passage, to prevent future hazards by the like, yet I did it in such terms as gave him a clear discovery that I could not disapprove it.  
So soon as the Surgeons would permit him to be seen, the King came to visit him, and after he had expressed the interest he took in his recovery, with words full of affection, he fell a commending that action, as indeed it merited, and yet in some sort gently blamed him, by the consequence of an entreaty, no more with so careless a valour to hazard the Son of Caesar and Cleopatra against a man of Britomarus' condition.  
The King was scarce parted from him, when by his own orders, the Princess his Daughter came to visit him; but at that sight his joy was so excessive, as his wounds had like to have broke loose, and by the change of his Countenance, had they but marked it, they might easily know what his heart meant by it. The fair Princess having taken a Seat by his Bedside, accepted his thanks for her visit, with a Majestic Modesty, Her Answer expressing in very obliging terms, the grief she took for his hurts. This conducted Caesario's passion into the Scene, for, perceiving the Princess' attendants keep themselves at a distance through respect: Madam, said he, it was but just that I should buy your Favours with the blood they have cost me; but had I added all that is left in my veins, to what is already gone, it would not have paid for the meanest part of them. I am sorry, said Candace, the King should command me to give you so dangerous a present, which at best has cost you some blood too precious to spill for so mean a toy; You undervalue that, said Caesar's Son, that the most ambitious Princes would prefer to Empires; but might I dispute this Subject against any other but yourself, the World has not a Person, from whom I would not force a confession, that all things else, though of the highest value, become worthless and contemptible, when compared with the Princess Candace's favours, and indeed it should teach me a higher pride, if your own free choice, without the King's Command, had bestowed it, and it had not only been the Child of obedience. Madam, I know this desire has too much ambition, but I am grown to weak to repulse it; and if it have kindled your displeasure, Madam, behold me in an estate to quench it with the rest of my blood that is left, and so make my life the expiation.  
I demand no such reparation, said the Princess, as you offer for the offence; your life is not prized follow, but we can rather choose to suffer something from you, than put that in hazard; but I should take it well at your hands, would you turn the tide of your discourse upon another Subject, and not oblige me to hear that, which must make my Visits less frequent.  
These words came so seriously from her, that the Prince began to fear indeed he had displeased, and from that thought, If either my discourse or action, said he, have made me so wretched, to urge your displeasure, I do here vow to punish myself with a rigour that shall satisfy your anger; the Gods raised Britomarus to call to an account my unjust ambition; for teaching my eyes such aspiring looks; but if his Arm was not strong enough to do it alone, I will enforce the Justice of his quarrel by the assistance of my own; and since it is a rashness worthy of your anger, to speak of a passion you cannot brook, I am resolved to doom my tongue to an eternal silence.  
The Prince put such a passionate action to these words, as it softened Candace to some pity; and not willing with a harsh reply to exasperate his afflictions, I have already told you, said she, that I desire no such cruel reparations of you, and do tell you again, that it behoves you to mind your recovery in a place where none can wish you ill.  
She had gone further, if the arrival of divers Persons, who then entered the Chamber, had not interrupted the discourse; among whom was Tyribasus the Kings Favourite, or rather the second King of Aethiopia, whom, though I have not yet mentioned, must make up a principal part in the progress of this History.  
This Man was of illustrious extraction among the Aethiopians, of a great courage, and a greater ambition, comely of Person, dexterous in every thing he undertook, and indeed worthy to sit where Fortune had placed him; his Credit with the King was not greater than with the Soldiery, in whose Hearts he had got the Power (by Commanding them in several Warlike Expeditions) of an absolute disposal. In fine, he was the Chief Man of Aethiopia, and though others were born nearer unto the Crown, their Authority not only fell short of his, but was entirely strangled by it; and, as then there being no dissension between my Prince and he, knowing that the King desired it, he appeared his Friend, and at that time gave him a very civil visit; where, after he had stayed with him till the Princess withdrew, he attended her back to her Lodgings; after this my Prince often saw her, while his wounds confined him to his Bed, without gaining the least intelligence by her discourse how to fasten any judgement upon his Fortune, or know what was hid within her Breast.  
And now he had left his Bed, and was resolved the next day to quit the Chamber; when one came to tell him that Britomarus (whose recovery had been as forward as his) was at the door, and desired permission to see him. We much dissuaded this interview, suspecting that Britomarus (whose desperate rage had so lately made the danger of it known) had carried some design against the Prince's life; but he knew his Heart better than we, and not having power to distrust him, commanded us to conduct him in.  
Britomarus' entered the Chamber with a visage something pale, and his Arm in a Scart: but with a Countenance so noble, and so bravely assured, that in spite of prejudice it even wrested both esteem and affection from us: Caesario rose up to meet him, whom Britomarus having respectively accosted, though with a very sad look, My Lord, said he, I could not carry away myself from this Court, without leaving my thanks behind me for the favours you have made me receive; you have permitted me (a poor Soldier as I am) to draw my Sword against a Prince, defended me from the fury of your Servants, and employed your credit with the King to save my life. These Obligations, great as they are, cannot make me your friend; the dishonour you have done me, and the displeasure I resent to abandon a place for your sake, where I had so strong a tye, have forced my disposition to oppose and resist it. Nor is it only to discharge my Heart of these words, that has brought me to take my leave of you; but to assure you, though I must be your enemy, I shall diligently seek occasion to be quit with your generosity. I am now going in quest of glory, and possibly may find a Fortune in some other Country, that will be less ingrateful than this. I hope the Sword which I had the honour to draw against you, will reap me advantages that may permit me to see you again upon the same occasion: my Heart tells me my Birth is not inferior to yours, and if it deceives me, I will punish the falsehood by making it dig for that in a Mine of danger, which my extraction hath refused me: I have appeared worthy to be scorned by the King of Aethiopia, the Princess his Daughter, and yourself; but I must presume to tell you, that none of you yet have known me, and I dare hope one day to appear in a condition that may challenge a better notice.  
When he had ended these words, and given a respective reverence to the Prince without staying for an answer, he departed the Chamber, though the Prince called him back, and followed to speak with him; and immediately mounting his Horse, he quitted Meroe with the Aethiopian Court, and was never seen there since.  
Tyridates' stayed Eteocles at this passage, I am deeply deceived, said he, if I be not able to learn you news of this Britomarus you speak of, and they are such, and so great, as I wonder they should miss the way to your Ear: but this merits a particular Discourse, and I will not interrupt yours. Eteocles was going on with his Story; when one told him the Queen was awake, and had called for him, which made him take leave of Tyridates for some moments, In the mean time the Prince called for his Clothes, and quitted his Bed, where Eteocles Story had detained him longer than ordinary.    

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA, OR Love's Masterpiece. PART I.  
LIB. IV.  
ARGUMENT.  
The sight of Alexandria renews Candace 's complaints for her Caesar's loss. Tyridates invites her to take the fresh air, with the promise of a pleasant walk; where, preparing to go on with her Story, she is interrupted by the arrival of a strange Knight, who is known by Tyridates to be Coriolanus Prince of Mauritania. He ignorantly rescues Zenodorus from Britomarus, as he was ready to kill him: while the Knights fight, the Pirate escapes. Tyridates interposes his persuasions invain. The arrival of Caesario disorders the Combat, and for a while makes it Tripartite. His Cask is struck off by Britomarus, and Candace knows him. They are parted. Zenodorus returns with twenty Horsemen, who assail the Knights, while he carries away Candace. Britomarus saves Caesario 's life, who spurs away in pursuit of Zenodorus. The Pirates men are all slain but three, by the prodigious valour of the Combatants. Candace is missed by Tyridates, who engages the rest to join with him in pursuit of the Ravisher. Their search proves vain, and they all return to Tyridates' house.  
IF the fair Queen walked late that day, it was not so much to be imputed to her weariness of the former, as to her cruel cares, that refused to be charmed by sleep till day was ready to break; the consideration and complaint of her disasters, had almost swallowed the whole night, and that courage that had shown itself great in all the accidents of her life, could not sometimes deny Homage to a grief too just to be condemned: The troubles of a Kingdom (either lost or very staggering) could not feed her griefs so high, but the continual fears for the loss of that which her soul indulged, battered it with more violence.  
These just and cruel apprehensions, not only drew sighs from her breast, but laments from her mouth, with a brook of tears from her fair eyes, which they let fall in such abundance, as her pillow was wholly steeped in the stream.  
Good Gods! said she, What are the offences have provoked your impetuous rage against me? And what could a poor Maid commit worthy of so many marks of your protracted anger? Was it so great a crime for Candace to love the Son of Caesar, that the loss of one of the fairest Crowns in the World, such unparallelled persecutions of my sex and condition, with so many dangerous hazards that I have run both of my life and honour, could no● expiate it; but I must still be tortured with the remembrance of perils, to which you have exposed that which is more dear to me than myself? Alas! continued she, 'tis too probable my dear Caesar lives not; for, if Heaven did not send him particular assistance, he could not but be crushed with so many dangers (joined with his sorrow for my loss) that my malicious fortune has thrown upon him: Ah! if it be so, just Heaven do not suffer the wretched Candace to survive him one moment; snatch her no more out of the jaws of Neptune, nor the hands of her Enemies, by a rescue a thousand times more cruel than that death from which you have guarded her.  
The fair Queen had enlarged her complaints, if the Maid that lay with her, who had much influence upon her, had not turned their current by the sweetest comforts she was able to apply. Candace would hear her, both because she dearly loved her, and besides, delighted to have her misfortunes flattered, and to stay herself upon the hopes she gave her of the recovery of her Empire, and the safety of Caesario. And thus they wasted the greatest part of the night, till, a little before the Birth of day, sleep came to becalm her cares, and drew the Curtains of her bright eyes, which she kept shut about four or five hours: At the end of which being awaked, and feeling no indisposition that could persuade her to lie still, she caused Clitie to rise (that was the name of her Maid) and give her her clothes; a part of which when she had put on, she quitted her Bed, and in that estate took some turns in the Chamber; at last she opened a window, whence the eye might freely spread its view over the adjoining Sea, and the stately City of Alexandria.  
The sight of that City (heretofore the abode and legitimate inheritance of her dear Caesario) awakened her Complaints, and after the Prologue of two or three sighs, tying her eyes to those proud Walls that Alexander built.  
Desolate Alexandria, said she, since thou hast lost thy fairest Ornaments; since thy Anthony's, Cleopatra's and Ptolomee's, dwell no longer with thee, but in thy dust: Pompous and triumphant as thou wert; thou dost now languish under Tyrannic Yoke. Oh! that I could at least repair part of thy losses, in restoring that to thee which thou gavest to me: Within thy bosom my young Caesar first saw the light; to thee I owe the education of his tenderest years; and of thee I received him, with all those lovely graces that he brought among us: and now I am come without him to thy forsaken Walls, to expose myself to the reproaches thou mayst throw upon me, for having unjustly detained him from thee. But pardon me, my Beloved's native Soil, if I cannot restore what myself hath lost: He is pulled from me by the cruelty of my destiny; and I bring thee as much of him as is possible, by offering thee a heart, where he hath as lively and perfect being as in that place he now inhabits. Ah! my eyes, said she, (wiping away some tears that had newly forced their passage) must every object give a fresh warning to your tears? Can you present nothing to my imagination, but what renews my disquiets? Since you first became Fountains, you have been so lavish of your streams, as your spring might well be exhausted; but you still overflow as much as when my miseries first alarmed you: Ah! could my dear Caesar yet come and dry you up, I should delightfully remember with what fidelity you have kept me company in my Disgraces, and then how zealously should I bless the most dangerous and sad occasions I have had, to witness of the height of affection? But alas! how incertain are those hopes! how cruel the arms of our barbarous enemies! and then how dangerous are your inconstant billows that roll before mine eyes.  
She had enlarged her Plaints, and suffered these sad considerations to waste a great part of the day, had not Clitie interrupted her, telling her it was time to dress her, receive the Prince Tyridates, who could not fail to wait upon her so soon as she could be in a condition to permit his visit: Candace came to herself at Clities solicitation, as one newly waked from a deep sleep: And regarding her with a languishing eye; I had abandoned myself, said she, to some melancholy thoughts, which the view of Alexandria had roused within my Soul; and I assure myself, thou canst not (without some tenderness) cast thy eye upon these places where my beloved Caesario took his birth: See, said she (opening the window again) look upon this same City, where the lamentable Cleopatra delivered him to the World, where she nourished and brought him up to bestow upon me: And ah! how gladly did I receive the rich Present of a person so Illustrious? how tenderly and dearly would I have preserved him, whose absence (and it may be utter loss) I now regret with such violent resentments.  
The Queen would never have given over, still finding fresh subjects to entertain her sorrows, if Eteocles, advertized by Clitie, had not entered the Chamber; yet she would needs draw him to the window, to show her (as well as the distance would permit him) all that might be discovered of the Palace where the Prince was born and nourished: with such other places as he and the rest of his royal Playfellows (often mentioned to her by Eteocles, in the story of his Master's youth) had chiefly frequented in his greenest years. After the Queen had allowed some time to this pleasing employment, she made an end of dressing her, which when Tyridates understood, he came to bid her good morrow, and was met and received by her with an air full of sweetness and Majesty.  
Tyridates, who was now grown acquainted with her name and condition, accosted her with all the respect due to her Person and Dignity. You see, said the Queen, a person very slothful, yet not altogether inexcusable, for having wearied out so many cruel nights and days without repose, I assure myself you will not take it ill that I have now tasted it from your bounty. Madam, would it please the Gods, said Tyridates, that I had power to perform more than what this miserable retreat can contribute, and you should soon know, that the most difficult and dangerous occasions to serve you, would always be delightful to such as Fortune shall honour with the employment.  
Indeed I ought not to expect less generosity, replied the Queen, from a Prince of the Arsacides; for, 'tis so natural, that you cannot want it, without belying your blood. 'Tis true, said Tyridates, the house of Arsaces had a fair stock of virtuous reputation, before the inhuman Phraates dishonoured it with his cruelties; but it is now the infamous shame of all Royal Families; Nor do I believe that any can pass a more gentle thought upon it, without sharing in the guilt that is fastened to it. The crime of Phraates, said the Queen, cannot reach to you; the spots of his Cruelty are solely limited in himself, and cannot so much as dim the lustre of your Virtue.  
That fair Queen had gone on, if the modesty of Tyridates would have suffered it; but interrupting her discourse, to change the subject, he demanded how she had passed that night. Could my mind, said Candace, have shared in the repose you have given my body, I should say, By your means I have rested well. But as the troubles of my soul have received no comfort, but from your Assistance, I think I may say, I have numbered the tedious hours of the night with more unquiet than yourself. The Gods preserve you, said Tyridates, from such racking pains as drag my days through eternal death; for, could your apprehension but reach them, you would doubtless give them another character. I see well, said the Queen, that Eteocles has not yet told you my Story, or has but related a few of the first events. 'Tis true, said Tyridates, that I am yet but acquainted with the beginnings of it; for Eteocles has gone no further than the generous Combat that the Prince Caesario had with young Britomarus. Then you have yet heard nothing of my life, said the Queen; but when you shall once know it, you will confess that I have Miseries enough to match yours, and some to spare, such as your patience never traversed. I am banished as well as you from my native Country, possibly despoiled of a most flourishing Empire; separated, like you, from the Person I Love, whom I left exposed to dangers far greater than such as threaten Mariamne's life, such as Heaven itself cannot rescue him from, without a wonder.  
These Calamities, replied the afflicted Tyridates, are very considerable, especially in the Person of so great a Queen as yourself. But your Majesty may permit me to tell you, that I have some too cruel to be patterned among the worst of yours. You are bereaved of that happy Person whom you have judged worthy of your Affection; but the subjects of our losses are very remote in nature; I assure myself, that the Prince you love, does support the separation at least, with as much impatience as you; and the loss of you makes him out-sigh you for his absence: besides, your displeasures have not struck you in the most sensible part, since the blows you received, came only from the rude hand of Fortune, and not the will of him you love: But Gods! how different is my destiny; the only will of Mariam creates all my Miseries; it was that banished me her presence; and (which wounds me deepest) while I die for her, she does not so much as dream of me. Would Heaven that every raving wave were my professed Enemy! that all the Arms of the Empire bent their points at my happiness! nay, that every thing in nature defied me, on condition Mariam were for me, I would encounter all their traverses with contempt, and either not feel them, or at least with an invincible patience sustain them; For as my Joys and Griefs are entirely dependent on her, so 'tis she alone can make me Happy or miserable: And from those that spring from any other source, in me they will find but little sensibility. I see your affection, said the Queen, is truly worthy of yourself, and the object it aims at: But, if I mistake not, your evils are not so great as you have Figured them, if they only depend on Mariamne's will; my thoughts tell me she yet loves you, and had not the care of her reputation, with the severe rules of her Duty, laid too heavy in the other balance, she would never have banished you her presence, but rather bestowed some proofs of her acknowledgement upon you, which sure she could not bridle without much constraint: that last condescension she granted in your favour, when she suffered you to see her in the midst of so many dangers that menaced her, could not come from such a person as Mariam (who was never accused of levity or imprudence) without the consent of affection, which was all the excuse she had for it: Nor do I believe her wholly exempt from that which your being divided makes you suffer for her sake; and am confident she passes not a day wherein she calls you not into her memory. Ah! Madam, cried the amorous Tyridates, how agreeably you flatter me, and how necessary is the authority of such a Person as yourself to persuade that which appearance could never manifest: I am unworthy of the affection and remembrance of Mariam, and the gods can witness, I never cherished a thought so arrogant to believe I deserved them. Yet I cannot listen to your discourse without some comfort, representing to myself, that a Person so divine as you, cannot (like our common spirits) be capable of error.  
This discourse had been enlarged, had it not been interrupted by those that brought up the Queen's dinner; Tyridates dined with her, and so did Eteocles and Clitie, because they would have it so; not being then either in place or condition to observe the regular method of all Ceremonies.  
After dinner Tyridates told the Queen, that, though the place was Desert and Savage, it afforded some unfrequented walks not unpleasant, which gave her a desire to take the air; when after her eyes had spent some time in turning over several objects at the window, she went out of the House, propped by the arm of Tyridates, and only followed by Eteocles and Clitie; they walked a while upon the Downs where their eyes had liberty to converse with the successive waves, and those wondrous flows and ebbs that had so puzzled the science of all Philosophers: But the Queen beginning to be wearied by the Sand, Tyridates led her down to a very pleasant Valley, semicircled on the one side with divers points of a Rock covered with moss, and on the other with a little wood, which joining crescent-wise with the extremes of the Rock, left a green Meadow in the middle, beautified with divers Crystal Fountains.  
This place agreed with the Queen's inclination to solitude, and suiting her intention to be private, she accepted that invitation to discourse the rest of her adventures to Tyridates, and spying a space between two Rocks, covered with Moss, and framed by Nature into a seat, so secretly contrived, as it concealed them from the sight of any in the Meadow, though they might easily discern what past in any part of it; she settled there, inviting Tyridates to sit by her, while Clitie and Eteocles made choice of a place to lie down in, some five or six paces from their Mistress.  
After the fair Queen had been a while silent, she looked upon Tyridates with a little blush, that with a glad ambition was newly climbed into her cheeks: If I give you the relation of my life, said she, I must be obliged to uncover some follies, which the precise rules of modesty would keep concealed; but as it is not just, that I should either serve myself of your assistance, or demand your counsel in Affairs whereof you are ignorant, I shall freely give you the naked account of my life, with that Adventure that conducted me into this Country; and in fine, crave your advice about the fittest order to be observed for the composure of my affairs, and security of my Person. I shall always be more able to serve you in Person than Counsel, replied Tyridates, being very incapable of directing a Person of so much Prudence as yourself; however I shall employ (since you ordain it so) all the judgement is left me, without expecting the trouble of this Relation from your Majesty, which I may as well learn from the Mouth of Eteocles, and so escape a Solecism in Civility.  
Candace was about to reply, and had disposed herself to take up the Story where Eteocles let it fall: when they were interrupted by a noise of Horses which trod very near, and gave warning to their eyes to look about them; which they had no sooner done, but they spied two men on horseback coming out of the Wood into the Meadow; the chief of the two that appeared the Master, quickly drew the regard both of the Queen and Tyridates, as well upon the the beauty of his Arms, as his graceful deportment on his Horse; the ground of his Armour was black, but very richly gilded; set round with Rubies of great value, and in all the other places most remarkable, the plates of steel that were below his Tases, reached to his Knee, and those upon his Arm to his Elbow, which were of the same materials and workmanship; his Horse was black, with some white spots upon him, but then all white with his own froth, which his pride and courage had newly dressed him in: his Squire carried the Shield of the same materials with the rest of his Arms; on which he bore a Crocodile, with a Motto under it of the Roman Tongue.  
In this equipage, leaping a little Hay, he entered the Meadow, with intent to let his Horses feed there, while himself took some repose; and alighting from his Horse, his approach gave Tyridates and the Queen a more perfect description of the beauty of his shape, which appeared with an admirable proportion; all his gestures, and every action so becoming as it fastened their eyes upon him with a most serious regard; but their satisfaction was much improved, when (the better to refresh himself) he took off his Casque and gave it to his Squire, lending them a sight of his unarmed Head and discovered Face, which made them confess, they had never seen one better shaped among all the persons of his Sex; all the lines of it so evenly regular, as it was too hard for the skilfullest desire to mend any thing about it; his complexion was something brown, his eyes black, but full of such a sparkling vivacity, as it required a steady eye to behold them without shrinking at the lustre; his hair of the same colour, being very long, and curling naturally, fell in large annulets upon his shoulders; In fine, his whole composure carried so complete a Symmetry, as it would have posed Envy's self to have found fault.  
This Stranger (such, and much better than my words have copied him) after he had set his Horse at liberty, sought a place to lie down on, and discharge some weariness he had lately contracted in a long voyage; and to favour their curiosity, Fortune led him to the choice of a place very near the corner of their Rock, which though it hid him from their eyes, yet it could not hinder their overhearing the discourse betwixt him and his Squire; who, after he had taken care of the Horses, laying his Shield, Casque and two Javelins in readiness, came and laid down at his feet, and desired him, if it were possible, to release his griefs to an hour of rest: For Sir, said he, I think no source, no health but yours, could have stood the rude shock of such violent pains as you have suffered; nor can you long resist it, if you persevere in this cruel manner of tormenting yourself.  
The Master, fetching two or three deep sighs (as Prologue to his Answer) Cease dear Emilius, said he, to trouble thyself for a life which is not worth the pains thou tak'st about it, and which I cannot regard but as my deadliest Enemy: I loved it once, when it was near to Cleopatra, but now she has refused an interest in it, I abandon it to despair as well as she. But my Lord, replied the faithful Squire, To what then serves that undaunted Courage, which (surmounting the growth of your unripe years) hath carried you to such a height of Reputation? To what your study in Philosophy, which you bestowed some of your budding age upon, with such a rare success? My courage and Philosophy, said he, indeed have helped me to support that with some moderation, which possibly without their succour would have forced the effects of sury and transport, as well as those of folly; that in all likelihood Report has carried to the limits of the Roman Empire: But they cannot cure a disease of this nature, without stripping my Soul of that Sensitive faculty, of which herself is in part composed; The advantages ay I have gained above others that wanted my education, do dissuade me from repining against the Gods, from despairing of their goodness, and holds my hands from falling foul upon subjects of Innocence, upon which the tempests of my grief (without their assistance) might possibly throw me; but they cannot hinder me from sighing, lamenting, and proving myself a Man, by afflicting myself with causes of affliction; as I was formerly abused into an opinion of happiness by an imposture of prosperity; and wouldst thou call to mind in what manner I resisted affronts considerable enough, when they sprang from other causes than the will of my ungrateful Princess, thou wilt remember that neither Courage nor Moderation failed me. What I suffered by the cunning malice of Tiberius, the Tyrannic authority of Augustus, with many other cross-blows that thou knowest of, I felt myself able to sustain, and possibly I should not have shrunk under any weight, that had only power to bow an ordinary spirit; but after explication of the ingrateful and pitiless intentions of Cleopatra, 'tis not enough to complain; 'tis fit I die, Emilius, nor can either Courage or Philosophy urge a just diversion from such a purpose.  
He uttered these words with a tone so passionately heightened, as it drew pity from his concealed Auditors, and Prince Tyridates was about to tell the Queen a conjecture of his, when they o'erheard him go on in his complaint. Forget, Inhuman Princess, said he, were so many services, so many proofs of affection no more than to be insensibly driven from your memory? Have I deserved to be thus used for an inviolable fidelity? and think you this does not slain the blood of Antony and Cleopatra, to sacrifice an innocent life to despair, which without the least reservation was espoused to your service? Just Gods! Gods whom I have so oft invoked, and of whom I have received so many favourable assistances, if your anger be still decreed to persecute the miserable Relics of our House, which you have suffered to fall under the Roman Arms; turn all the points of it against me only, but do not punish me, because I Love, with such pains as should only be reserved for the guilty: If Cleopatra provokes your indignation by her ingratitude to me, Consider she is the Masterpiece of your hands, and that however my Conscience avows me innocent, yet sure I am not so, her spirit is incapable of Error, and I by the weakness of some action, have surely plotted my own disgrace: If it be so; as I owe that belief to her judgement; my life, my actions, my thoughts, I disavow you all, if you have any other aims than the Love, Service, and Glory of Cleopatra: The Gods all know I never owned any such, and if you slily crept into my breast, it was in such disguise as I discerned you not from those she might safely approve.  
The Stranger would have stretched his complaints further, if his Squire, who began to be weary of that kind of life, had not thus stopped him: My Lord, said he, I beseech you be not so lavish to your griefs, as to give away the power of reflecting both on what you are, and what you ought to be; 'tis true, your misfortune is great, but yet not deperate: and, as I believe, this change in the Princess proceeds from some impression has been given from you: so I hope (the truth once discovered) to see you restored to the same estate in her favour. I am more than confident this mischief was plotted by the artifice of Tiberius; for that peevish man will omit no occasion to deprive you of what he pretends to so unworthily. But the Princess Cleopatra's spirit cannot be so possessed, but time will open her eyes upon your innocence: Besides, the friendship of Agrippa and Marcellus will be active in your behalf; and methinks Fortune begins to intend you some kindness, by conducting Cleopatra hither, who, you know is shortly expected at Alexandria with the Emperor and Empress Livia, whom she always attends: all things conspire more assistance to your Designs here, than at Rome, especially the place of your residence being unknown, and probably 'tis doubted in the Emperor's Court, whether you be still living. They have reason to doubt it, said the Master, and had I listened to the rational motions of my grief, thy fidelity had miss this daily trouble of urging fruitless consolations. Indeed, I am glad at the coming of Augustus to Alexandria: but 'tis less out of hope to see Cleopatra, before I shall dare to appear in her presence, than for the revenge I intent upon Tiberius: I know that disloyal man thinks his subtleties have destroyed me; but he shall find, I am still living to give him death in the very Arms of the Emperor and Empress his Mother, that support him so unjustly against me. This is rather the design of my stay upon this Coast, than to justify myself before my Judge that sovereignly condemns me, and possibly this sole intent preserved my deplorable life, that else should have been sacrificed to my just resentments.  
The Stranger thus ending his Discourse, gave occasion to his over-hearers to communicate their thoughts. Candace had oft heard the name of Cleopatra pronounced with such interest, whom she could take for no other than the Sister of her dear Caesario. But Eteocles, who ever kept the blood of his dead Mistress in sacred veneration, could not hear the name of that Royal Maid without appearing transported. Tyridates read both their troubles in their looks; and not ignorant of the cause: I do not wonder, said he, to see you amazed at this encounter, for my own surprisal is little less than yours; but I think I am able to give you some light in this mist: for, if I be not deceived, this Stranger, whom we have also justly admired, is the Valiant Prince of Mauritania, Son to the great King Juba, who with Cato and Scipio was vanquished in Africa by Julius Caesar: His Love to the Princess Cleopatra made itself known to all Rome by the marvellous effects it produced; and there was scarce a person that was ignorant of his quarrel with Tiberius, linked with divers other events that deserved remembrance. During my stay at Rome, he was absent; but if the general opinion might be credited, she could not boast a braver man, nor one whose valour was more advantageously accompanied, with such other qualities as render an accomplished Prince: I must not let him go, said Etcocles, before I see and know him better, and demand some news of that Princess whom I have carried a thousand times in my Arms, whose Birth, Person, and Name are so sacred unto me: And indeed, said Candace, though my concealment be requisite, I cannot but wish to see him that loves my Caesar's Sister so passionately; the praises you have given him, with what I have discerned in his looks, have gained him much of my esteem, and made me already interest myself in his Fortune. Madam, said Tyridates, I am glad to hear you say so; if you think fit, we will show ourselves to him; and with your permission, I will offer him that poor retreat you did not scorn to accept; there we shall have leisure to know him, and learn, whether I guessed right at his name and quality.  
To this the Queen gave an easy consent, and they were rising to salute him, when a great noise of clashing of Arms, and loud voices, that sent itself to their ears, from a neighbouring Valley prevented them. This retired the Stranger from his profound thoughts, and unwilling to hazard a surprisal in that estate, he suddenly snatched up his Casque, and commanded his Squire to Bridle his Horse, which done, he was no sooner leaped into the Saddle, when he saw two men on horseback coming towards him in their full speed from the Valley, in a different estate and posture. The first (having no other Arms but his Sword) fled before the other armed at all points, who with his Sword in his hand pursued him with loud threatenings, and wanted but little of overtaking. The Arms of the hindmost were of a brown complexion, and (as if Art had studied disorder) confusedly filleted with Gold and Silver; his Coat of Mail was suitable to his Curiass; upon his Casque he bore a Lion, with a long Horse-tail in his paw, that fell backward from his head upon his shoulders. The same Beast was portrayed on his Shield, with a Motto under him, that could not be read at that distance.  
The Garb of this Warrior was not so proud and fierce, but the other was as poor and timorous; the fear of death, that hung out its pale badge upon his Visage, would let him express no anger, but to his Horse, which he spurred most furiously; and as he turned his eyes round, as if he hunted for hope of succour, he spied Cleopatra's Lover, whom he saw in a condition to descend him from his Enemy's rage; and spurring up to him, with his hands stretched out in a suppliant posture: O save me Sir, cried he, from this cruel man that has taken this advantage to Murder me! He had no time to enlarge his entreaties, nor was it necessary to a man in whom the sentiments of virtue had too deep an impression, to fly any opportunity that might set his courage a work to relieve the oppressed. He returned him no other answer than a preparation to give what he demanded: And to that end, putting himself between him and his pursuer, and first desirous gently to try the force of persuasion; he cried out to him asar off, to moderate the violence of his passion, and prayed him to consider the glory he was like to purchase, for a man armed as he was, to set upon a person that had so little to defend himself.  
The Stranger, whom a most violent choler and animosity against the fugitive had wound up to a haughty fierceness, could not see the way to his revenge blocked up, without converting his fury upon him that denied it passage, and instead of a reply, he advanced his Sword in the air, and flew upon him like a Lion: Thy life, said he, shall pay the forfeit of this Traitors, which thou robbest my just indignation of. With these words came so weighty a blow, as his Enemy having scarce time to ward it with his Shield, was half astonished: but he, desirous to make use of that disorder, (Revenge overpowering Glory) would have quitted the Combat to continue the pursuit: But Cleopatra's Servant suddenly recovering himself, catched hold on the rain of his bridle as he was passing by, and gave so rude a tug to the tender mouthed horse, as made him rise so high before, that he wanted but little to overthrow himself backward upon his Master; but he slacking his hand, with a sharp remembrance of the Spur, pricked him forward; yet not so soon but his fugitive was already got out of sight, and (that he might leave no certain tract to his follower) had betook himself to the Covert of an adjacent wood. But when he saw his hopes of overtaking him were fled with him, he turned his anger afresh upon his new enemy; and beholding him with eyes that darted flames of rage: Thou canst not, said he, but be base and perfidious, since thou favourest those that are so; but thy death shall repair the displeasure thou hast done me. Take heed, said the other, and defend thy own life carefully; for, believe it, thou wilt have more need of all thy force against me, than him whom thou wouldst have killed at such an advantage.  
The two brave Combatants, valiant as any that ever got a name in Arms, followed these words with such weighty blows, as he that first entered the lists, with an unwilling compliment, was forced to bow his head to the Saddles pommel, and the other to touch the Crupper of his Horse. But recovering fresh force and fury, each finding the valour of his enemy, and expecting by the first blows what was like to follow, quitted the thoughts of an easy Victory, and waked all the dexterous force that nature and exercise had given them, to find advantages. The Prince of Mauritania (for Tyridates was not mistaken) at first was less angry than his enemy: but when he saw his Arms died in his own blood, he rushed upon his Foe with such an unbridled, yet skilful fury, as would quickly have given him the Victory, had he not disputed with a courage so invincible, as the World could not boast a braver.  
The proofs they had given for their mutual valour, were soon become the wonder of their Spectators. And while Candace was wrapped in a deep amazement at the sight; Tyridates and Eteocles quitted their places, and advanced into the Meadow, with an intent, (if it were possible) to part them: an undertaking something difficult, they being both on foot, and only armed with Swords: Tyridates therefore judging the gentler way the best, and approaching something near them: Gallant men, cried he, will you kill one another without a Subject for a quarrel? might you not better reserve your valour to employ against your Enemies whom you have cause to hate? The Knights were so edaf to dissuasion, as all the answer they returned was a hot continuance of the Combat, each so vehemently spurring up his horse to gain the crupper of his enemies; that Tyridates, fearing to be trodden under foot was constrained to retire a little and become a quiet Spectator, since he could not be an Arbiter, attending the event of that furious Combat, not without much fear it would prove too bloody.  
It was yet fought on both sides with such an evenness of fortune and courage, as no judgement could allow either the least advantage; when the appearance of a third that came galloping up to the Combatants, gave Tyridates some hopes of assistance in his design to part them: The Arms of this last comer were very richly embroidered with gold, and artificially engraven with the Roman Eagles; Upon his Shield was painted that Royal-Bird turning her undazled eyes upon a Sun in its glory; and upon his Cask she erected her two heads, and expanded her wings, as she is represented in the Arms of the Empire.  
The arrival of this new Cavalier, not more considerable for the gallantry of his Armour, than the bravery of his Garb and Posture, made Candace and Tyridates (wholly fixed as they were upon the former spectacle) to take off their regards, and bestow them upon him: but he allowed them but little time to observe; for he no sooner cast his eyes upon him of the two that bore the Lion in his Cask and Shield, but he clapped down the Visor of his Beaver, then half up, and approaching the Prince of Mauritania. Valiant Sir, said he, I conjure you, by the remembrance of what you love dearest, to quit your place unto me, and permit me to continue a Combat with your Enemy, which I began before yours, and is possibly of greater importance.  
The Prince turning his eye upon him that entreated so strange a courtesy, liked him so well at the first sight, as he should not have stayed his consent, had he not been exceedingly provoked by a resistance, which he was not accustomed to find among other Enemies; nevertheless he was about to reply, when he was prevented by the other, who having heard the request of the last comer, at the first glance knew and received him with a joyful clamour; Come, come, said he aloud, and join your Forces together, I do not fear to fight you both, nor doubt the Victory, though your number were greater. This said, he flew from his first Antagonist, and rushing in with his Horse upon the other, gave him a rude shock with a blow upon the head that made him reel in the Stirrups; but the other Stranger was not long in his debt, for having his Sword ready in his hand, he discharged it with such a puissance upon him, that the blow carried away part of his Shield, and so benumbed the hand that held it, as it forced him to let fall his reins, and his Horse feeling himself at liberty, started away, and so saved his Master from the second blow: But he quickly recovered his Bridle, and being much ashamed of the accident, he bravely turnned head to both his enemies, that approached him with equal sury: A while he doubted upon which to bestow his first blows; but having little time to consider, he addressed himself to the Moorish Prince, and witnessing with his hand, that he had something to say: I do not doubt, cried he, but I have courage and force enough to dispute the Victory against both: But if thou dost value the request of an Enemy, stand by a while, and give thyself the pleasure of seeing us decide a quarrel of greater importance than what is betwixt us two, and I promise that immediately after my Victory, we will end our difference.  
I fear, said he, he will not leave thee in a condition to give me such resistance as my honour can accept; for methinks his forces are so little inferior to thine, as I cannot hope the success of this Combat will tend to thy advantage; finish first then what thou hast begun with me, and if fortune decrees that thou scapest my hands, thou shalt have leisure enough to debate thy first quarrel: These last words of the Prince were not so much as heard by the Enemy, who staying for no answer, had eagerly renewed his Combat with the Knight of the wings, and was received by him with as much bravery as he brought: The valiant Moor angry to be so slighted, ran up to him with his Sword in a posture to express it; but seeing him engaged with the other, and ashamed to assail him at such an advantage, he held his Sword advanced in the air, as yet uncertain how to dispose of it; very unwilling he was to give over the Combat, and as loath to wound his credit by striking one that was so hotly matched by another as valiant as himself: but during his irresolution, the two Cavaliers charged one another still with such mighty blows, as made their lives indebted to the goodness of their Armour; nor could that longer hinder their Swords from cutting passages for the blood in divers parts of their bodies, the sight of which rather animated then enseebled them, urging each to crave his revenge upon the other, with such height of fury, as there was never seen a Combat between two Men so terrible; their blood had in divers places died the Earth in its own complexion, when after many cruel blows that came too thick to be counted, at last there fell two together with so huge a force, as they wanted both but little of kissing the dust, but they reeled a long time upon their Saddles; before they could recover their Stirrups, the Knight of the Lions broke his Sword upon the Casque of his Enemy, but with the blow cutting the laces (that fastened it) asunder, it threw the Roman Eagles to the ground, and left the head of its Master naked and disarmed; which discovered to the lookers on, one of the handsomest and most Majestic faces that ever credited Nature's workmanship: at the first glance Candace and Eteocles knew it, and advancing towards him with a transport of joy, Ah my Prince, cried they at once, ah! Cleomedon, Caesar's Son; and indeed it was Caesario, whom the heat of the fight had deafened to their cries; for covering his head with his Shield, with his Sword ready to cut out work for the Chirurgeon, he re-advanced towards his opposite that attended him with an equal resolution: but the Prince of Mauritania, who had lent attention to the words, and regard to the Visage of Candace, was willing to do homage to the Empire of beauty in a desire to oblige her: and seeing the Combatants in a very desperate condition, threw himself between to part them, believing Caesario, with whom he had no quarrel, would not strike him, and the others truncheon he did not fear.  
Tyridates and Eteocles joining with him, at the same time laid hold of their Bridles, and by that means hindered the Progress of the Combat, which they fretted at with excessive choler: Caesario's appeared in flashes at his eyes, and blushes in his face, but at last lending an ear to the words, and an eye to the faces of Eteocles (who held his bridle) and Candace that stood by still crying out, Cleomedon, Cleomedon, immediately he knew them both, and with a Joy that broke out into loud Accents, seeing his Enemy held by the Mauritanian and Parthian Princes, he forgot all thoughts of Enmity, and was flying into the Arms of his Princess; when they all took a fresh Alarm, from fifteen or twenty Horsemen, that with their Swords in their hands, came up towards them upon the Spur, conducted by the same man that fled from the Knight of the Lions, and at him only they all seemed to bend their unmanly outrage: but the two others (then quitting, or at least suspending all animosity) of Enemies were quickly become parties; which known, without balancing the baseness of the act, they poured themselves upon them all; but the first that aborded them, carried away incurable marks of their treachery: for they coped with such Enemies as were incapable of being dismayed at such a number. The Prince of Mauritania, who was the freshest of the three, sent the first he met without a head to the ground, and cut off the arm of the second, just as it was advanced in the air to strike him. These two first blows gave Caesario time to put on his Casque, which Eteocles had given him, and the Knight of the Lion's leisure to recover a Sword instead of his own that was broken. Which done, they both bravely joined with the valiant Moor, and helped him to distribute death among their Enemies: the first that fell under the sword of Caesar's son, had his head cloven in two pieces; and he that died on the other hand, was run through the body, his point finding a way through the weakness of his Curiass, to tumble his Soul from the principal seat of life. These were no sooner fallen, but Tyridates, covering his head with one of their Casques, and snatching up a Shield, leaped upon a Horse, which a new blow from the gallant Moor had made Masterless, and came and joined his assistance, like a considerable reserve to the rest.  
Eteocles, with the Prince of Mauritania's Squire, followed his example, only the Queen and her Maid remained Spectators of the Combat: and indeed it was almost a prodigy to see Men so wearied and wounded in a former fight, with effects beyond humane puissance, in so few moments to reduce such a number of their Enemies to despair of Victory. Tyridates, though but half armed, quickly tumbled two at his feet, and Eteocles courageously cut his passage through the press, and joined himself with the Prince his Master. But while these four gallant Warriors, stung with brave emulation, like so many new Mars' displayed their invincible Valour, the Captain of their enemies, whom fear of Death had ranged in the rear, coutenting himself to animate with words, but not daring to give the encouragement of a personal example, chanced to cast his eyes upon the Queen of Aethiopia, who was seeing Heaven with her silver tears to rescue her Caesar from the perils that menaced him: he no sooner saw, but knew her, and and breaking into an outcry, Oh you Gods! said he, and do you then restore me my Fugitive, that was wrested from my hands with so great a danger of my life? When presently, commanding one of his men that was nearest to follow him, he ran to her, just as she was thinking (for she had spied him) to hide herself behind the Rock: but she made not haste enough to prevent that barbarous Villain, who rudely seizing upon her, and, by the help of his companion, having set her up before him upon the Pommel of his Saddle, he carried her away in spite of all the resistance and struggling she could make for escape: his companion would have had no pleasant task to force Clitie to the same posture, if her resolution to follow the Fortune of her Mistress, discarding the consideration of her own, had not made her his easy prey: But Gods! What sury shot itself into the Soul of Caesario? when hearing the out-cries of his Queen, and his ear directing his eye, he spied her in the Arms of her cruel Ravisher, who had borrowed all the wings that haste could lend, to get ground of his suspected pursuers; the whole streugth of his Enemies were now grown feeble to arrest him; for having thrown down one that opposed his passage, with a blow that clove him to the breast, he darted himself among the rest, with such an irresistible vigour as he soon cleared the way to his pursuit, when (by a fresh piece of Fortune's malice) his Horse, no longer able to endure the many wounds he had received, fell dead under him, and so suddenly, as falling with his Master's feet engaged in the Stirrups, he exposed him to the mercy of his Enemies; two of which spying the casual advantages, were coming to kill him, which they had easily effected, if the Knight of the Lions (a while before his eager Enemy, resigning hatred to a fitter season) had not flown to his defence, and with two blows laid both his Enemies at his feet, the one dead, the other with a deep wound: and taking one of their Horses by the Reins, just as Eteocles had thrown himself down to disengage the Prince from his, Rise Cleomedon, said he, and receive this assistance from thy greatest Enemy, but such an enemy as is unwilling to owe any thing to thy generosity.  
The Son of Caesar at another time would not have taken this succour from his declared Foe: without striving to restore the benefit, or at least tendering an ample expression of his resentment, but at that moment the loss of his Queen (who to his eye had appeared and disappeared like lightning) wholly seized him, and would scarce suffer him to make a fit reflection upon the generous act of this gallant Enemy; only in taking the Horse from his hands, and leaping upon him with more agility than his wounds could well allow of; I know not said he, how to understand thee, who in declaring thyself my Enemy, hast rendered me the office of an intimate friend: but I protest, that as much my Enemy as thou art, I will ever be ready to pay thee back this life which thou hast so bravely assailed, and so generously defended: Finishing these words, and leaping into the Saddle, having now no Enemies capable to stay him, he hasted after the Ravisher with all the speed imaginable.  
Eteocles, whose memory harboured nothing so carefully as his Prince's Interest, after his example suddenly remounted himself, and observing the way he took, followed so swiftly, as in a short time he recovered him.  
In the mean time the Prince of Mauritania and Tyridates had handled the rest of their enemies so roughly, as they were reduced to a despair of Victory; and when he that so valiantly rescued Caesario, was again joined with them, they made such havoc among those that remained, as after the death of all their Companions, three that were only lest, were constrained to trust their safety to their heels; the gallant Warriors disdaining to pursue them, fell to a mutual admiration of each others Valour, and the brave Unknown, addressing himself to the Prince of Mauritania; At first, said he, you did me a displeasure that made me your enemy, in hindering the execution of a revenge so just, as, had you known the cause, you would doubtless have favoured what you prevented: but you have since so nobly assisted me against enemies, who I think only levelled their malice at me, as the memory of that overpowers my resentments; and joining with my wonder at your Valour, devotes me to the search of occasions, that may make me worthy to become your Friend.  
I am sorry, replied the valiant Moor, for the displeasure I have given you; judging by what I have since seen you do, and by the late base actions of your Enemy, that he was worthy of the punishment you designed him; but (as the truth was masqued) I could not refuse a protection which I thought was due to the weaker party. I deem it no mean happiness to have effected your resentments by so poor a piece of service; and after the experiment of your Valour, I cannot without much joy receive the proffer of your amity.  
This said, they shook hands, and lifted up the visors of their Helmets. If the Stranger was ravished with the beauty and Majestic air of the Moor, the two Princes were not less surprised at his high and Heroic Mind, both believing, not without much reason, that they never beheld any that surpassed it; thus they gazed one at another, their admiration taking a pretty distant precedency of their words: but the Prince of Mauritania first breaking silence, & turning toward Tyridates, who was dividing his astonishment betwixt them; It is to you valiant man, said he, we have the most considerable obligation; to your valour and generous resolution we owe the wonder, since naked as you are, you have braved a danger capable to dismay men most securely armed, rendering a gallant succour to unknown persons. To these words the brave Stranger added others that imported the same sense, which Tyridates modestly receiving, I have done nothing, said he, but what the incitement might justly challenge; and the little help I was able to contribute, showed so poor and worthless in the presence of your grand actions, as it merits no remembrance.  
In uttering these words he observed their Arms covered with blood, especially the strangers, who had lost very much in his Combat with Caesario, and not willing to dally in such a condition: I see, said he, your wounds express the necessity of a sudden assistance, which I am presently able to give, if you refuse not the offer of a poor lodging about a hundred paces hence, where your wounds shall be searched, and yourselves served with much affection: but where is Cleomedon, continued he, looking round for Caesario. Sir, he is gone, said the Prince of Mauritania's Squire, (who being less eager than the rest, had better discerned what past concerning the Combat) in pursuit of those Ravishers that carried away two Ladies, that stood and looked on while we were fight. How, cried Tyridates, are the Ladies carried away, that were with me when you arrived? Yea my Lord; replied Emilius, they were seized on by the chief of those men whom you so lately defeated. Oh Gods! said Tyridates, what an unvaluable loss is this if it be not speedily recovered? how passionately could I wish these valiant Men in a better condition, that they were able to endeavour the rescue of one of the most considerable Persons upon Earth! Let us go, said the Prince of Mauritania, our wounds ought not to dispense with the succour of a Person of so much importance. Indeed, said Tyridates, your obligation is particular, and possibly I know you better than you imagine: but am loath to expose you in this estate to any fresh peril, especially that gallant man, pointing to the unknown, whose wounds are deeper and more dangerous than yours.  
'Tis true, said the Stranger, my hurts are great: but they shall give me leave to go to the Seaside, which is the only course you can take in this design; for the Pirate Zenodorus (who was he that I pursued, and doubtless the same that bore away the Person whose loss you regret) has carried away the Prey to his Vessels, that rid near the Shoar, and only there we ought to seek it.  
This said, he put Spurs to his Horse, and led the way (though not without much pain) towards that side of the Coast where he had seen Zenodorus his Vessels; the Princes eagerly followed, and (being in much the better estate, quickly left him behind) speeding their course to that part of the shore which he pointed at: but all alas in vain, for finding no Vessel in the Road, and coasting a while upon the sand without any discovery, at last they spied two Ships a far off with full Sails making off to Sea, which they presently judged to be the same they sought for: the brave unknown, who was as much interested as Tyridates, and possibly not much less than Caesario in pursuit of the Pirate, fetching two or three deep sighs, and casting a sad look upon the Prince of Mauritania, Oh, said he, how should I hate you, if the succour you have given me, with the knowledge of your virtue could leave a possibility for the Passion. Gods! pursued he, Oh you Gods! what a loss do I sustain by this fatal Combat? what have I lost in a condition, that disables me to give myself the least hope of recovery.  
At these words he had let himself fall from his Horse with weakness, if Tyridates had not hasted to sustain him: and the Mauritanian did as much on the other side, protesting his sorrow for the injury his ignorance had done him, and the share he had took in his fortune. During his discourse, Tyridates considering that a longer search would but vainly strengthen their despair of finding, began to lead them the way to his own house, always keeping near the Stranger, whose loss of blood, and depth of wounds had so enfeebled him, as he was scarce able to keep his Saddle: but they soon reached the House, where the Servants of Tyridates tendered the same offices to the Strangers that were due to the Person of their Prince: they were laid in several Chambers, (the house being spacious enough to to afford commodious lodging, and their wounds visited, which were not found very dangerous, especially the Prince of Mauritania's, who had only received a hurt on his left Arm, and another slight one on his side; the Strangers were greater both in number and condition: but the Chirurgeon (who was an officer to Tyridates, and an expert Master of his Art) promised an infallible cure to both.  
The Stranger took but little comfort from this promise, and appeared so sensibly afflicted, as the fears of those that served him began to augurate worse success from his sadness than his wounds. He was no sooner laid, but there entered into his Chamber a young man whom he presently knew to be his Squire; who having spent a part of that day in his search, had at last addressed his inquiry to that house, where he understood what was happened.  
At the sight of his Squire the Master expressed some signs of comfort, and having called him to his Bedside, he entreated the rest to leave him to his repose. Tyridates had received two slight wounds, one on his right hand, and the other on his head: but they were too inconsiderable to confine him to his Bed, and having caused some remedies to be applied, he spent his principal care upon the service of his guests, whom he marvellously esteemed. At the evening understanding that the Prince of Mauritania might admit a visit, he entered his Chamber, and being received by the Prince with an excess of civility, they spent some time in terms of Courtesy and deference; which ended, and Tyridates seated by his Bedside, before they could methodically change the Subject, he of Mauritania calling to mind a word or two the Parthian let fall some hours before: I remember you told me, said he, that I was better known to you than I knew of, make me the favour, if you please, to let me understand what knowledge you have of me, and by what means you gained it: I drew it, replied Tyridates, from some words I overheard you utter before the arrival of the valiant Stranger, against whom you Combated, your ample mention of the Princess Cleopatra, and of Tiberius, added to what I had heard at Rome, of the life of that Princess, begat my opinion you were the Prince of Mauritania; but if at first it was only a single conjecture, the sight of your visage, with the grand actions you performed in my presence, have strengthened it to a confidence.  
This discourse raised a blush in the Prince's cheeks, because it imported him to disguise his quality, yet willing that his Obligation to Tyridates should vanquish the displeasure; I should be sorry, said he, (as my Affairs are now stated) to be known to any other person than yourself; but you have too nobly engaged me to a high esteem of your worth to allow distrust a being. 'Tis true, I am that unhappy Prince of Mauritania, whose misfortunes, if you made any stay at Rome, have possibly reached your ears; but because methinks your face too, discovers more marks of greatness than your Equipage, I should gladly learn to whom I am reduable, and what he is that I have trusted, If I prized my life, replied Tyridates, I should not have less cause than you to hide my name: but as fortune has used me, the preservation of it is so inconsiderable, as were my confidence in you less than it is, I should make no difficulty to tell you, that I am Tyridates, Son of Orodes, and Brother to Phraates King of Parthia, persecuted both my fortune and friends, and reduced ever since my greenest years to beg from Court to Court a shelter for my life. At this relation the Prince of Mauritania, a little lifting himself from his Bed, saluted Tyridates, with an addition to his former respect. I am no stranger to your name, said he; for when you quitted Rome, you left yourself upon every tongue in so fair a Character, as is not insuitable to my present experience of your Person and virtue. I am not sorry to be reduable to a Prince of your birth, nor to find such high worth in him, of whom my estimation preceded my knowledge. To you said Tyridates, I owe, with much more Justice what your expressions have misplaced upon myself, the bruit of your beauteous actions hath produced such effects through the Roman Empire, as doubtless, you are not known where your virtue is not admired and adored.  
The Prince modestly retorted this Language, and they had some while continued a Courteous contest full of deference and protestations of amity, they transferred their discourse upon the valiant Stranger, who reposed in the next Chamber; wherein they forgot not to mention his rare composure both of face and garb, his undaunted Spirit, with those grand actions they had seen him perform, which kindled an equal ardour in both, to be as well acquainted with his name and quality; and as they contrived the means, they spied his Squire pass by the Chamber door, that stood half open; Tyridates called him, and after he was entered and come near the Bed; We called to you, said he, to demand some news of your Master, and to entreat, if you may grant it without incurring his displeasure, the satisfaction of our desires to know him, the bravery of his actions must excuse our curiosity, in containing which, you may deeply oblige us.  
My Lord, replied the Squire, had I permission from my Master, you should gladly be obeyed, but having not yet revoked the command he gave me to conceal his Person, I must be forced to a very unwilling disobedience, yet this I may take commission to say, that possibly I serve one of the greatest Men upon Earth, and young as he is, (if your remote abode be not situated where same is a stranger) doubtless the noise of his actions had found you out; happily when he knows your desire, he will command me to satisfy it, and if you please I will demand his leave.  
It is not necessary, said the Prince of Mauritania, for though your discourse hath much augmented our Curiosity, we should be too uncivil to press any thing that may displease him; when it shall come from his own free motion we shall joyfully receive it, and in the mean time content ourselves to know him by those marks of greatness that shine in his Person, and by what he has done in our presence.  
With this answer the Squire departed, and a while after Tyridates (finding it time to leave him to his repose) bade his guest good night, and went to seek that in his own bed, which was there to entertain him.   
FINIS.   

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA, OR Love's Masterpiece. PART II.  

LIB. I.  
ARGUMENT.  
Emilius begins his Master's life to Tyridates. Characters of his Father King Juba, whose Power, Pomp, and Life, proves a sacrifice to Caesar's Fortunes. His Birth and Education at Rome. He is struck with Cleopatra 's Infant-Beauty, as she is showed among the spoil in Augustus' Triumph. The rare example of Marcellus amity in resigning his claim to Cleopatra, carries them both to the German▪ War. Their● brave behaviour there, and return. Tiberius becomes his Rival. Puts a cunning trick upon Coriolanus, which ensuares him in a jealous error.  
LOVE never had more cause, in so little Elbow-room, to employ all his puissance, than in that house, where Tyridates and his two illustrious guests resided; and scarce could the whole extent of his Empire, show three nobler Slaves, whom he had fettered with more glorious chains.  
The Moorish Prince, the brave Stranger, and the Parthian, sighed at the same time for several objects; and, as the Earth could not boast any more worthy to light up their amorous flames; so it would have been difficult to have found, in the stock of Mankind, three souls more capable of such passions, as they had power to kindle in hearts least susceptible of Love's impression. Oh! could the night (blind as she was) have seen those refined fires, that fed their lustre in that little retreat, they would have cleared her complexion to a beautiful day, had they had an equal commission, to shine as well as burn. The Stranger's deep wounds had so enfeebled his body, as they seemed a little to lessen the violence of those resentments, wherewith love and grief had inspired him; those that lighted upon Tyridates (which were so favourable as they could scarce be felt) left his thoughts an entire liberty to work upon the state of his Love and Fortune; and the Prince of Mauritania's (though something deeper than his) yet not enough to unbusie those sad considerations, and leave him leisure to regard his bodily health, in so cruel an indisposition of his mind. All things that had power to renew his anguish, came flocking to his memory so freshly, as if the whole time, and all the accidents of his life, had still been as young as at the moment of their birth; when, after his officious thoughts had examined every good and ill, that trod their successive steps in the course of his Fortunes, that came to hint Cleopatra's ingratitude, that almost threw him into a swoon, with the torments of grief and despair.  
But Oh! what a number of bitter plaints and hollow sighs did that sad remembrance tear from his mouth and heart: and how fitly did the blacks of the night suit with the mourning which his soul had put on: to him the darkest shades were far more welcome and agreeable than the brightest beams that could spring from the active treasury of Light, and not well enduring the day, ever since the eclipse of those fair hopes that enlightened his soul, he found some comfort in an obscurity conformed to that of his spirit, that helped him to wrap it in a dull cloud of heavy thoughts: and thus having quitted the care of himself, the day appeared, before the repose of his body could give an hours calm to the storms of his mind. He no sooner spied the new▪ born light shoot itself through the windows of his Chamber, when saluting it with some sighs, How importunate is this bright intruder! (cried he) how sensibly dost thou aggravate the vexations of a wretch, which should be entombed in an eternal night? All the objects thou dost offer to mine eyes, serve but to wake a remembrance worse than the cruelest death. I can breathe no Air, see no Sun; nor behold a Heaven, common to me and Cleopatra, that does not prompt my memory with her disloyal change. Ah! how much more happy had I been, that thou hadst seen me perish in those actions, wherein thou didst light me the way to glory; that I had rather taken an eternal leave of thee in those occasions, that the World thought worthy of some remembrance: than to suffer such a fatal preservation, to be trod upon by the malice of injurious Fortune, and possibly, to see my ingrateful Cleopatra wrapped in the arms of the subtle Tiberius.  
In the arms of Tiberius, repeated he: Ah Son of Juba! chase that base thought from thy Soul, and recover the knowledge of thy Courage, that never yet forsook thee in any accident of thy life, which thou began'st with the loss of all thou wert born to; Parents, Crowns, nay the whole glory of thy House, which at the first opening of thine Eyes, thou saw'st exposed in thy Person, to the ignominy of a Roman Triumph; Thou hast carried it through pains and perils, with toils of body and mind, capable to overthrow a common constancy, and at last must end it by despair; yet such a despair, as will never leave a blot upon thy memory, nor tell the World thou dost either degenerate from the Roman Education, nor that Illustrious Extraction, which thou took'st from so many Kings. If thou must die, (as it is requisite, since thy hopes are perished) if possible, thou shalt throw down those with thy fall that caused it, or at least follow thy Father's steps, who took his repose upon the point of his own sword, because he scorned to ask it elsewhere, after the fading of his glory, and the fall of his Empire.  
He had enlarged these plaints, if his Squire, who overheard divers of his sighs, and understood some interrupted words, had not come to the Bedside, and asked how he felt himself. I am but too well, said he, and with grief I feel, that my body is not brought low enough to suit my mind. The Squire was about to reply, when he heard one of Tyridates' servants at the door, that came from him to inquire of his health, and know, if a visit from his Master would not incommode him; Emilius was commanded to return him a very civil answer, which, within a short time after he had carried back, the Parthian Prince entered the Chamber, and approaching the Bedside, bade him good-Morrow. The Mauritanian received Tyridates▪ with acknowledgements full of affection, and after they had spent their first Civilities, having caused him to sit down by his Bedside; I should deem myself highly obliged, said he, to the care you take of my life, if every thing (in the condition it now is) that conduces to its preservation were not hateful; however I hold myself infinitely bound to your good intentions, and do offer in requital to that noble care you take of it, all the remainder that Love and grief have left at my disposal. Your life is too precious, too glorious, said Tyridates, to deserve the neglect of any thing that may concern its safety; Report hath acquainted me with some passages of it, memorable enough to set it a high value in every estimation, of which I am confident few persons can be ignorant, and yet I think there are fewer know the particulars of your love to the Princess Cleopatra; for my part, I understood no more of it, than hath already entered every vulgar ear in the Roman Empire; nor have I gleaned any thing from the common report, that could content my desire, to be better instructed in the single passages of your fortune, I know not if my curiosity be pardonable. It is, said the Prince, interrupting him, nay more, I am not loath to present it with a clear satisfaction, indeed not willing (after the receipt of such generous favours, with the rare proofs you have given me of your virtue) to debar your knowledge of the least particular. 'Tis true, you may have learned some accidents of my life, that are but too well known, but 'tis impossible you should understand those of the most importance, unless you receive them either from mine or the mouth of Emilius, from whom I have nothing concealed.  
It shall be then from Emilius, if you please, (replied Tyridates) I will take this satisfaction, as well because he has told me you have taken little rest this night, and therefore it will require a good part of this day, to repair your loss of sleep, as because he will give the relation more at large, and possibly more true, than your modesty will condescend to, which in all likelihood would either silence or disguise some of your bravest actions.  
I have done nothing said Coriolanus, which the greatest modesty might not own and utter; but since Emilius has more credit with you than I, I am contented he should give you the full recital of my life, without the least reserve of any particular.  
After this permission, Tyridates, thanking the Prince, quitted his Chamber, and took Emilius with him, who was willing he should have that morning given him to recover his rest: but before Tyridates would engage his attention to this story, he went to visit the gallant Stranger, for whom his care was not less than the Prince of Mauritania; his observation of so many marks of grandeur in him, made him regard him with a high respect, and a marvellous esteem; but at the Chamber door he met the Chirurgeon, who dissuaded that visit, telling him he had great hope of his cure, but it was not safe for him to receive & pay the Civilities of any Person that morning, because striving to speak, might impair his present condition, and retard his recovery.  
Tyridates' stopped at these words, and after recommending the continuation of their care to his officers, he retired to his Chamber with Emilius, and (forcing his respect to accept of a seat) Since the Prince your Master, said he, has given permission, let me desire an entire relation of his life, without omitting the most trivial passage your memory can hint, or interrupting the narration of such things as you may think have already reached my knowledge; for I have taken nothing but confused notions, from public Rumour, which often disfigures the truth of things not perfectly known.  
Sir, said Emilius, though I see myself engaged to a long narration, I shall strive to pay obedience to yours, and the Prince my Master's commands, as well as I am able. At these words, making a little pause, to range with some method in his memory the things he had first to utter, he began his discourse in this manner.  

The History of Prince Coriolanus, and the Princess Cleopatra.  
NEver had any life so sad a beginning as my Master's, and in so small a number of years as compose his age, never did Fortune play so many tricks with a Prince's Destiny; yet this I may say, and truth can witness it, my Master owes nothing to her, but has lost all by her: at his birth she took away his Crowns, Parents and Liberty, she has since endeavoured, and does still continue to do him mischief, more sensible than his first losses; but all the favours she ever granted him, were still forced from her by his virtue.  
He was born poor, though lawful Heir to two great Kingdoms: born a slave, though Son to the most potent King in all Africa: he saw the light and his own shame together, and commenced his life to appear in an action, which made Cleopatra resign up hers, nor would himself have done less, had his age been capable to have showed himself the ignominy.  
The great King Juba (whose memory still keeps its beauty without a blemish) was Monarch of both the Mauritania's, and supported himself with a puissance that struck terror into his Neighbours, and would have made him considered by the whole Earth, as Master of the greatest part of Africa, if his unlucky choice of the weakest party had not ruined him, and his fortune done homage to that great man's, for whom fate had reserved the universal Empire. His Dominion was of a grand extent, his Court pompous and flourishing, and that Authority which the terror of his warlike virtue exercised upon his borderer's, rendered himself little less than Sovereign of the third part of the World. In this estate he lived with an untroubled glory, when after the defeat of the great and unfortunate Pompey, the fragments of his scattered Forces, rallyed themselves again in Africa, under the Conduct of Scipio and Cato: King Juba, either out of Friendship to Pompey's memory, or jealousy of Caesar's greatness, joined with his Enemies, and helped to swell their thin Forces with a puissant Army; Backed with this considerable addition, they three opposed the torrent of Caesar's Fortune, and not only arrested the course of his victories, but by some remarkable advantages they got at the beginning of the War, the whole World began to question his success.  
At last their malicious fortunes conducted them to the plain of Thapsus, near to a City of the same name; where, prided with a vain shadow of prosperity, they offer Caesar Battle: Indeed they had much reason to hope a favourable event, but the Gods struck in his quarrel, for whom they had designed the World's cammand, and maugre all the African puissance, made Victory perch herself upon Caesar's Standards; there did King Juba and his companions lose 50000 men, and in one day saw themselves and their hopes ruined beyond repair. This gave them a resolution, to seek no further than Death for a remedy; and though they might have hoped a better destiny from the clemency of Caesar, they rather chose to quit the World, than take their life as a gift from the Conqueror's mercy.  
Scipio killed himself with his own Sword upon the spot, Cato being shut up in Utica, stabbed himself, and a while after tore out his own bowels, to defraud their care that endeavoured his recovery; and the King of Mauritania, with the poor remnant of his shattered Forces, took his flight to one of his nearest Cities, where seeing himself hotly pursued by the victorious Army, after he had striven in vain to re-assure the courage of his Africans, who had taken too much fear from the Roman Fortune, resolved too to snatch his share in the common fate: and in pursuit of this intention, having caused a magnificent Feast to be made for Petreius a Roman Captain, who had been of his Party, and was then a Companion of his Fortune, at the end of their repast, regarding him with a visage that breathed nought but Death, Petreius, said he, 'tis fit we die to preserve our liberty; for if we stay on earth but a few days, we shall have no power left, to put by the shame is prepared us, I demand no other proof of thy affection but Death from thy hands; and, as my Fortune is now stated, I cannot receive a greater from thy Friendship. Here, stab this breast, pursued he, presenting his naked bosom, pierce this heart, which the Arms of our Enemies have unluckily spared, and make a KING fall by thy friendly hand, whose courage scorned to bow under the fortune of a puissant Enemy.  
He mingled these words with some others so pressing, that Petreius could not refuse the fatal courtesy, but without farther delay, ran him through with his own sword, the King not so much as turning his eye aside, nor letting fall the least action unbecoming the grandeur of his spirit: Petreius, when he had seen him breathe his last, turned the same point against his own breast, and throwing himself upon it with all his force, fell dead at his feet; thus were the festival Ornaments discoloured with Royal blood, and thus did this great King, catch up the shield of of death, to defend himself from ignominy.  
A few days after, the victorious Caesar rendered himself Master of both the Realms, and with them of the Queen his spouses' liberty, whom he designed for one of the principal Ornaments of his Triumph: she was gone some months with child, when the King her Husband lost his life, and was brought to bed of the Prince my Master, two days after her arrival at Rome, whither Caesar sent her two months before he made his triumphal entry.  
Thus was my Prince begotten free, and the Son of a King, but born a slave, and between his Conception and Birth, happened that deplorable revolution of his Fortune.  
Some days after his Birth, he was carried along, as one of the most remarkable Ornaments of Caesar's Triumph; happy in his misfortune, that as yet he understood not the shame they made him suffer, being then of an age incapable of resenting the loss of his Crowns, his brave Father, or the death of the Queen his Mother, who resigned her life a few days after she had disclosed the little Heir of her misfortunes to the World. But there wanted not persons that took care of his bringing up, for the great Caesar (from whom the disastrous fate of his Parents had drawn some compassion) caused him to be brought up at Rome in the garb of a King's Son, and bestowed such a particular care upon him that scarce any of his nearest kindred, in that high swollen prosperity, was trained to a braver Education: I will yet say further, and believe I shall not injure truth in affirming, that the losses of his estate were in part repaired by the gallant Education he received among the Romans; wherein that tender age escaping the impression of the African customs, and the Company of such persons, which falling far short of the Romans politeness, might have given him a taste of the Barbarian, his excellent nature contributed such marvellous assistance to the care of those, that were ordained to form him, that before his age could promise it, he became as accomplished in all requisites of a Prince, as wish could fancy, and rarely skilled in every undertaking, to which his virtuous inclination carried him.  
In his earliest Infancy, Caesar would often cause him to be brought into his presence, and observing that someehing Majestic and Heroical, was already risen with that morning of his excellent beauty, he let him get ground in his affections, to that degree, as one day he broke into an earnest protestation, that if the little Juba (for at his birth they gave him his Father's name) seconded those hopes he had already begun, he would restore him the Crowns of his Ancestors; but he took special care to mould him to the Roman fashion, and deface all such unpolished manners, as his inclinations might possibly borrow from his African blood. Besides, to fortify the friendship he would have him bear to the Republic, he gave him a Roman name; and because he was brought up in the Martian Family, illustrious among the Patricians, and derived from the famous Coriolanus, whose valour survived him in so glorious a reputation, he would have the young Prince called by his name, that the appellation of Juba, which sounded harsh and barbarous to a Roman ear, might be covered with that of Coriolanus.  
In all likelihood, the affection and bounty of that great Dictator, would not here have stopped, and doubtless the Prince had gathered the fruits of those promises, if Death had not robbed him of that Protector, or rather that Father, before he attained to his fourth year, an age that hardly rendered him capable to dream of those hopes were given him.  
That man, the greatest that ever lived, was murdered in the Senate-house, by the ingrateful conspiracy of those, that his own generosity and nobleness had raised from their knees; all the world knew itself interessed in the loss of him, who had made himself Master of it with his Sword, yet held it in so gentle a subjection.  
After Caesar's death, the little Coriolanus (for so was always called) wanted no protection; for the Senate succeeding Caesar in his Patronage, took up that care of him which his death had let fall; and trained him up with the Sons of divers Kings, that were Friends and Alleys to Rome, without making the least difference in their Expense, or Equipage, though their Fathers had still their Crowns in possession. Divers children of noble Exteaction, and an equal age, descended from the families of Roman Knights, were placed in his Service, of which number I was appointed one, and as I was always brought up near his person, so his affection did me the honour to take me nearest to his heart. During those cruel and dismal disorders of my Country, that bloody Civil War, which revenge kindled for Caesar's murder, the prodigious effects of that horrible Triumvirate, which overflowed Rome with the blood of her noblest Citizens, and that famous contest betwixt Antony and Octavius Caesar; the young Prince grew up with a success miraculous: Never did Eye behold a youth of those years, handle his Arms with so great a grace, or perform any Bodily Exercise his Tutors taught him, with a dexterity comparable to his, his propension led him with so much advantage to the study of Sciences, as he became so learnedly versed in Astrology and Philosophy, so critically skilled in all kind of History, as the World could scarce afford another to match him, and for Eloquence, that famous Orator that lost his life in the heat of the Triumvirate, by the cruel command of Antony, could hardly challenge pre-eminence; nor had he qualities disproportioned to these rare endowments of body and mind, so that the old Partricians that took our examples of high and sublime virtue, from the ancient Roman Discipline, could find nothing Recorded of the Fabricii, Camilli, and Scipio's, which they began not to remark, with admiration, in the first actions of young Coriolanus: besides his prompt inclination to great attempts, he constantly showed such a natural horror of oppression and injustice, as it was observed, he never cherished a greater contempt of danger, nor a more ardent love of glory, than pity of another's misfortune, and even slighting of his proper interests, to give relief and comfort to the miserable. A thousand times I have heard him, though scarce arrived at his thirteenth year, beg of his Governors in the heat of a most pressing importunity, to lead him to that famous War waged between those two great Competitors, Antony and Octavius Caesar, since called Augustus; and sigh at the recital of those great actions, because he was not permitted to venture for some of the glory. These right marks of a perfect greatness, gave him the hearts and esteem of all that knew him, and with them purchased that of Augustus; for if his first inclinations had not been crossed in their Progress by another's Interest, and by such accidents as have since arrived, his hopes need not have aimed at less advantage in his Patronage, than they might have done in the great Julius his Uncle that went before him; all the noblest Romans made vows in his favour for this excellent young Prince, who with a sweet generous, and obliging behaviour, which he maintained even at the price of his dearest Interests, a charming conversation linked to the lovely advantage of a most handsome face and feature, with that admirable grace that shined in all his actions, took into the affections and respect of all persons that were friends to virtue. His gallant deportment in public Spectacles, drew admiration both from Senate and People, and before he had fully reached his fourteenth year, he won the prize in all those exercises, wherein valour or wit were called to try their strength; besides other disputes, wherein his age might adventure for repute.  
He was scarce fifteen, when Caesar, after the defeat and disastrous fate of Anthony and Cleopatra, returned a Triumphant Conqueror to Rome, where he made himself sole Monarch of the Empire, which that puissant Rival in ambition had so dangerously disputed. Upon this occasion, my Prince appeared among those that went out to meet the Emperor, in a gallant garb; all those that beheld him clad in a habit, whose riches lent some assistance to the charms of his natural beauty, mounted upon a brave Horse, which he managed with a matchless grace and dexterity, at the head of a Troop of young Gentlemen much of his own age, gave him a loud applause, and cried he was not only worthy to be their Commander, but would one day deserve larger fortunes, than those to which his birth entitled him; and the Emperor himself, swollen as he was, at that grand prosperity and glorious Estate to which he was newly mounted, stayed his stately progress to Caress, embrace, and give him such praises, as the young Prince's modesty could not accept without blushes.  
The Triumph of Augustus was the proudest that Room ever saw, and it seemed that all the Pomp upon Earth was assembled to make a Masterpiece of glory for one man; I will not trouble you with the description of what I believe you have often received from better hands, but content myself only to tell you, that the greatest beauty of the Triumph appeared at the third day; in the two preceding, Caesar only showed the spoils of some barbarous People, and represented his victory at Actium; but at the last he triumphed over Egypt and Cleopatra; I shall forbear to describe that immense profusion of Riches, and prodigious number of Captives which helped to compose that show; for my eyes, as well as those of the people, let all the rest go, to stay themselves upon that stately Chariot, wherein was drawn the lively Protraiture of Queen Cleepatra, represented in that posture as she stretched out her arm to the Asp, expecting the fatal benefit from his poisonous tooth; the visage of that great Queen appeared so full of Majesty, as the pitiful spectacle drew tears of compassion from the better part of the Spectators; but if the sight of her Image tenderly touched such hearts as were capable of pity, the living appearance of those children she had by Antony, which were seated at the feet of their Mother's Effigies, wrought effects no less moving.  
The young Alexander and his Sister Cleopatra, then about ten years of age, were placed upon a seat of equal height, and their Brother Ptolomee, younger by one year than they, a degree under them: Never did Mortal eye converse with any thing so fair as these little Illustrious Captives, which almost untied the gaze of all Rome from other objects, to fasten them there with extraordinary attention. Their years were not so few to dispense with the apprehension of their own misfortune, which easily made itself known in the sad composure of their garb, and in making the Crimson rose only keep the field in their faces.  
Alexander and Cleopatra were attired in the same habits of Apollo and Diana, which the unlucky vanity of their Parents, had formerly caused them to appear in, and had not their present condition destroyed that belief, they might have passed in the Spectators opinion for the Divinities they represented; the rays that environed the head of the little Cleopatra, rather seemed to proceed from her eyes, than exterior dress; and if Shame and Modesty had not directed their beams downward, she would even have outshined that Goddess whose figure she had borrowed. Antony had been a most beautiful Prince, and Cleopatra such as Nature would have bungled in their offspring, had she made their features fall short of wonder; and indeed, this young Princess had not borrowed all that was excellent in both, but surpassed them in most apparent advantages; she had the Queen her Mother's mouth, with all the bewitching features of her Face, but a complexion beyond comparison more white and delicate; in the shine of her blue eyes sweetness and Majesty played together; her hair was much brighter than her Mothers, and as much darker than Antony's; in fine, it would then have been a difficult task for the quaintest invention to find out praises for her shape and beauty, but time has since completed them to such a height of perfection, as it would pose the skilfullest wish to follow any thing more accomplished; I would say more upon this subject, if your own eyes had not taken too exact a perusal of these rarities, to need my course description. Oh what wonders did my young Prince take in at that view! how powerfully did it wake him out of some melancholy thoughts, into which he was plunged by that resemblance of his own Destiny; he had beheld the two first days Magnificence with an indifferent eye; those glittering heaps of Gold and Jewels, the taking in of Cities, and description of Combats, represented both by Pencil and Sculpture in the third day's Triumph, could not woo him to a share in the general Acclamation. But he could not behold the Image of Queen Cleopatra, without paying the tribute of tears to a just compassion, accompanied with some sighs, which the conformity of that Family's downfall with his, forced from his breast; and when he cast his eyes upon those young Princes, in the same estate my relation has made them, he thought he had viewed the beginnings of his own life, and abandoned himself to the pity and interest he took in their condition.  
From these first motions of compassion, he succeeded to the admiration of their beauty and thence began to enter upon that passion, to which he has made an entire resignation of his life; I was then (as I seldom failed to be) near his person, when turning to me, Oh Emilius, said he, what have I seen? did Nature ever make an equal to this young Princess, and dost think she that is led this day in Triumph, ought not one day to Triumph over the most precious liberties? Oh Fortune! (pursued he a while after) how dost thou play with the destiny of Princes? what illustrious companions hast thou given me in my bondage? At these words he returned his eye, and fastened it with all his thoughts upon that object, keeping always near the Chariot's side, without the least removal, till the Ceremony was ended.  
The Prince was not yet arrived to an age capable of strong and violent impressions; and the Princess who was younger than he by at least four or five years, had not approached to that rare perfection of Beauty, which has since taken her so many Captives; yet Coriolanus felt himself struck with an abortive passion, and Cleopatra's beauty, (though but then in the bloom) stayed not for riper Excellencies to begin those Conquests, which she has since perfected with so much ease.  
The young Prince began to grow melancholy, to sigh and seek out solitude; and, as he never admitted the caution of hiding his thoughts from me, I knew presently, though my years exceeded not his, where the blow pained him. Emilius, said he some days after the Triumph, didst ever see so goodly a creature as this young Cleopatra? or rather can Man's imagination fashion an Idea that may pattern hers? 'Tis true, said I, the Princess is very handsome. Handsome, replied he, repulsing me with a little anger? Say rather, that all things else, when they come in her presence, are ugly, and that the Gods employed all their power to render her the exactest piece that ever parted from their hands. Ah! how happy will the Man be whom Heaven shall think worthy to adore her, and who may be permitted to lay down his life at her fe●t, and entirely dedicate it to her service! That may possibly be yourself, said I, and I see you begin to aim at that mark, with so direct a disposition, that you are most likely to be the happy man you speak of. Doubt not, replied the Prince, but my resolution has already devoted my life to the service of that Princess, and that no other thought can stay in my breast, but such as may show me how to merit her esteem, and promote my design never to be other than hers.  
My Lord, said I, in the condition your fortunes are, resolutions of that nature will deserve the weighing; and methinks you should not dream of any alliance, but such as may restore you to the Estate from whence your Family is fallen, nor hatch a design of that importance, without Caesar's and the Senate's approbation, upon which apparently depends your destiny.  
At these words the Prince regarded me with an angry eye; I did not think, said he, thou couldst have nursed such base thoughts, to advise me to do violence upon those beautiful inclinations, by any consideration of fortune; If to scorn Cleopatra will cut off my pretence to the Crowns she has taken from me, it will requite me with a glory, upon which that blind Deity can exercise no power; nor can my desire get up to a nobler pitch; than by courting the Daughter of Antony and Cleopatra, that lately were Masters to so many Kings, and held the most considerable rank in the Universe. Neither Caesar nor Senate can justly disapprove the design: but should they refuse me their protection, if I have virtue on my side, the Gods will never forsake me, and possibly my sword may recover that, which my hopes now tamely expect from their condescension. Such thoughts as these did this young Amorist already nourish, and if they were then so stout and generous, time hath since fortified them with such supplies of strength and vigour, as the whole World cannot urge a consideration capable to divert him.  
In the mean time Cleopatra's children were brought up at Rome, in an Equipage rather quadrate to their Birth than Fortunes; for the Princess Octavia, sister of Augustus, Widow of Antony, and the same which he repudiated for Cleopatra, in stead of preserving an angry resentment against the memory of her ingrateful Husband, whose crime was big enough to excuse it; on the contrary, by the sole motion of her own generosity, she took home the Children to her house, resigned up all that estate for their maintenance which she held of Antony's, and brought them up with such care and tenderness as if they had been the fruit of her own womb, without putting the least inequality betwixt them and those she had, as well by Antony, which were two Daughters, as by Marcellus her first Husband, by whom she had likewise two Daughters and a Son; the brave Marcellus, whom doubtless you have known to be Rome's darling and delight. The Emperor much applauded his Sister's goodness, which he publicly confirmed by witnessing a high esteem of that Act, and his Empress Livia to second his intentions, took the Princess Cleopatra to Court, made her be very carefully educated in the Palace, while the young Princes remained still with the virtuous Octavia. In the mean time my Prince's passion did daily rise to a greater height in his Soul; and as Nature had given him a hardy confidence, which helped him to enterprise and perform every thing with a successful grace, so Love had then left him neither power nor will to keep it longer undiscovered; he had often seen and entertained the young Princess, in whom, besides an unparelleled beauty, he encountered a wit so vivacious, tempered with a judgement so solid, as the World could not boast the like of another person of no greater years; to this charming sweetness he had now yielded up his liberty, and cashiered all thoughts but such as were serviceable to his amorous Devotion; he had not yet declared his passion while she lived with Octavia: though the accostable innocence of her youth seemed to offer him that liberty: but after her removal to the Court, the increase of hazard hastened the attempt, and one Evening meeting with her in the Empresses Chamber, where the Emperor with divers of the noblest Romans were likewise present, he aborded her in a gallant fashion, and a graceful garb, only peculiar to himself. Fair Princess, said he aloud, our Destinies carry a near resemblance; would to Heaven our thoughts did so, and that you could as freely own the design I have to make myself yours, as I have hugged the passion that compels me to adore you. These words were pronounced with an Air so hardy, and yet so agreeable, as they got a plausive admiration of all the over-hearers; the young Princess was not then instructed by experience how she ought to receive such language, yet Innocence did not so blind apprehension, but that she perceived something in it extraordinary, which made her only blush him an answer; but the Empress who had overheard this Courtship, repeated it aloud to the Emperor, and they both gave it an approbation that augmented the Prince's confidence.  
This quickly became the discourse of the whole Court, and the general opinion voted, that there could not be a pair more fitly coupled than the Son of Juba, and the Daughter of Cleopatra; that their hopes were matches, their Birth and Fortunes equal, and that none could come nearer the graces of young Cleopatra's Wit and Beauty, than the noble shape and accomplished qualities of young Coriolanus. This discourse which quickly flew through all Rome, marvellously favoured the beginnings of my Prince's passions, and embarking himself as it were with an universal consent, his hopes were encouraged to aspire at a happier success, than at first they durst propose.  
Thus he openly listed himself in the service of that Princess; and employed those advantages which her youth allowed him, freely to insinuate his affection, and leave impressions upon her spirit, which in a riper age would not easily have entered it; his endeavours wrought so happily, as, if he had not yet perfectly taught her how to love, at least he had used her to endure the protestations of his, and obliged her to a liking and esteem of his qualities, that made her to prefer him before all those that came near her. Indeed the sole merit of my Prince, by those rare endowments that garnished his body and mind, might well have wrought that effect; but to these he added an assiduity of respect and complacence, which mightily assisted his desert; and prudently considering that his condition would not always last in that estate, and perceiving by some marks his observation had showed him, that the Princess with an accrescent of years, would raise her behaviour to a more haughty severity, than her youth could yet apprehend requisite, he resolved to prepossess her heart as much as possible, levelly those difficulties while time invited, and strive to weaken that Enemy which he knew would one day combat him.  
This conduct is not ordinary in a Person of sixteen years; but at that green Age he had a grey Discretion, which brought all men to their wonder that remarked it.  
In the mean time he endeavoured to delight her with a thousand actions of gallantry, and as he had a most inventive wit, and an active body in all sorts of exercises, he daily made Matches with young Romans of his own Age, either for Courses on Horseback, or Combats in the List, besides divers other agreeable spectacles which were ordinarily presented in the Cirque, in all which the young Prince behaved himself with such a winning bravery, as insensibly gained the hearts of all that knew him: but he was not the only man was destined to serve that fair Princess; for young as she was, that rising Sun in her beauty was already adored by the most illustrious Romans; two young Princes were struck at once with her beauty, and Fortune could not raise him up two mightier Rivals upon Earth; they were Marcellus and Tiberius, the former (as I have told you) Son of the virtuous Princess Octavia, (Wife to Antony and Sister to Augustus) and of Marcellus whose Widow she was when Antonius espoused her, and the other Son to the Empress Livia, and her first Huband Drusus. They were bred up with equal hopes and favour, but of conditions very different; Marcellus had a spirit replete with sweetness, freedom, and generosity, a Courage noble and propense to great undertake, and a person complete and becoming in every action.  
Tiberius with a handsome shape indeed had a grand Courage, but withal a Spirit so maliciously subtle, and known even at that age so skilled in dissimulation, as the oldest Courtiers were scarce capable of the like. My Master was linked to Marcellus in the bonds of a strict amity, and the conformity of their inclinations easily taught them how to love one another; but with Tiberius he lived in a fashion very different, end only contented himself to consider him as the Emperor's Son in Law, without the tye of any particular affection,  
One day young Cleopatra wallking in that stately Garden that belonged to the Palace, with the Princess Julia, Daughter to the Emperor, a Lady of a florid beauty, and a lively flowing wit, whom the Emperor had designed for his Nephew young Marcellus, to pull the knot of his alliance straighter, and confirm the People (to whom Marcellus was infinitely dear) in their hopes, to see him one day placed upon his Uncle's Throne; these two Princesses had walked a while in the great Alley that verged upon the River Tiber, when they saw my Prince and young Marcellus, who had been seeking them, appear at one end of it; though Marcellus did but slightly mask his love to Cleopatra from his friends, yet his knowledge of the Emperor's intention made him tender in public a Courtly respect to Julia, though all the sympathy and inclination he had for her, were only personated in a bare compliance, which then obliged him to proffer his addresses. The Prince of Mauritania was ravished to see him thus engaged, because it lent him the liberty of breathieg his amorous thoughts to Cleopatra, and that fair Princess, whose esteem was as just to his worth as her age would allow, gave him a glad reception, and leuding him her hand, they walked at a sit distance from Julia and Marcellus; She began but then to enter her twelfth year and my Prince was something more than sixteen, but indeed their knowledge had much outrun their age; He entertained her a while with some discourses of divertisement, and in sequel, (hinted by the presence of the other couple) succeeded thus to his purpose: Would to Heavens, my Princess said he, I could promise myself as much interest in your breast as Marcellus has in Julia's: I know not, answered the Princess, what you desire of me, but I believe Julia cannot think better of Marcellus than I do of you: 'tis a greater kindness of my Fortune, replied Coriolanus, than Reason could encourage me to hope, I cannot be unsatisfied at this Declaration without injustice; but, would you permit me to unlock my heart with a little more freedom, 'tis possible I might bring you to acknowledge, that the esteem you speak of will not suffice for my felicity.  
I thought, said the Princess, you might have been contented with it, and that I could not mention this esteem, without informing your understanding, how highly I value your good qualities. This favour places me in a condition which I ought to be proud of, said the Prince, yet let me have leave to tell you, 'tis not enough to establish repose in a spirit that is dedicated yours; for admit the Gods had stored me with some deserving qualities, by the right of those I might credibly purchase a high opinion among the Romans, and yet not engage them to one single motion of good will; the busy noise of some virtue might take me up repute in remotest Nations; nay, 'tis possible to gain an esteem among our enemies, without changing their inclinations: Thus was Hanibal's virtue as highly prized at Rome as at Carthage, though in the former he was mortally hated; thus the Gauls and Pompey's Partisans considered Julius Caesar as the greatest of men, and yet he was their greatest enemy. From thence you infer, said Cleopatra, that we may esteem what we do not love. So my reason says, said the Prince, yet I will not deny, but esteem is very advantageous to persons that desire to be loved; nor that affection can hardly enter a well-composed spirit, if esteem does not lead the way: I will therefore receive that esteem with which you reward my ardent affection as the beginning of a more accomplished fortune; and expect that of time, my services, and your bounty, to which indeed my poor stock of merit, can yet plead no claim. I am not unwilling, replied the innocent Princess, to accept your services, and I know not a person whose carriage and converse are more agreeable than yours. I cannot be so rude with my Princess (said Coriolanus with an action that expressed a respective acknowledgement) to demand more at her hands; I have only this to beg of her bounty, that she shall not suffer time, (which shall never have power to weaken my adoration) to wear out these favourable impressions, nor the knowledge (that will approach with increase of years) of your own admirable beauties, and Divine qualities, persuade you to regard him with disdain, whom you now judge worthy of so many favours; nor the encounter of researches, more advantageous for your establishment, prevail with you to prefer persons more happy, or better propped by those which Fortune has made our Masters, before such as she has despoiled of Crowns and Dignities. Cleopatra young, and as much Infant as she was, was yet sensibly touched with this discourse, and regarding my Master with an Eye full of sweetness, returned him an answer, that proved her reason had much got above her age.  
If the malice of Fortune, and the loss of Crowns could render persons contemptible, the children of Antony and Cleopatra would find little respect and consideration among men; you know our house is fallen as low as yours, and were it reared again to its former height, neither that age nor knowledge whose approaches you dread, should hinder me from considering that in you, which neither Fortune can rob you of, nor the support of our Masters bestow on those, which you excel as well by birth and virtue, as personal endowments. The Prince listened to this wel-framed language (which indeed his hopes little expected from so young an intellect) with transport and wonder, and, not able to stop the Carreir of his joy, with the consideration of those that were present, he put one knee to the ground, and fastening his lips with a little violence to Cleopatra's hand, The Gods can witness, said he, that I never apprehended worth enough in myself to measure with this grace my Divine Princess has given me; but I do here protest in their presence, that I will strive to merit it, both by services of worth, and such actions as shall either repair the ruins of my house, or at least, hinder my Princess from repenting her bounty.  
He had enlarged his discourse, if Marcellus (who then preferred Cleopatra's converse far before Julia's) had not obliged the Princess to break off the parley by joining company. If my Prince had not truly loved Marcellus, he would not have taken that interruption so gently, but his friendship joined with the late satisfaction his spirit had taken, helped him to dissemble the displeasure he received, and accost the Princess Julia, with a visage that betrayed not the least mark of any alteration.  
After that day he oft repeated his passion to Cleopatra, and confirmed his own hopes by a thousand proofs of her innocent affection. These beginnings presaged a happy progress but they met with checks by the way, for the rivalship of Marcellus did much trouble the stream of his design. Marcellus was (as I have told you) of a very amiable person and little short of my Prince in any becoming quality, by his advantage in the Emperor's favour, and People's affection, who gave him the name of Rome's darling and delight; his face, person, and excellent parts, with that clear discretion that composed his Courtship to Cleopatra, kindled a just jealousy in Coriolanus: besides Marcellus as he was Octavio's Son, enjoyed the same liberty with Cleopatra and Antony's other children, as if the same womb had disclosed them; and by that appellation of Brother and Sister, both Octavia's Command, and Caesar's Will enjoined them to call one another. And which most preferred this young Prince's hopes, he possessed an unrestrained familiarity with the Princess, which was not accorded to any other: but that which stung my Prince deepest, was, that Marcellus (being as well the dearest of his friends, as the greatest of his Rivals) all the impediments and fears he gave him, were so incapable of blotting out his amity, as he could not prosecute his re-search of Cleopatra without regret, since he could reap no advantage by it, that would not disturb the repose, and affront the Fortune of his Friend; a reflection of this nature in such a soul as my Masters, could produce none but uncommon effects, and the sequel will tell you how strongly it wrought too in that of Marcellus, whose sentiments, (not to abridge truth of her due) were not less noble than my Masters. In divers Encounters these two Princes mutually apprehended the displeasures they gave one another by a competition which in souls less generous, would oft have strangled friendship; yet in theirs she stood so firm and entire, as my Prince never glanced at Marcellus, when he pleaded in his own love-suit, nor did Marcellus (when he laid his amorous vows at Cleopatra's feet) ever let fall a word in disapprovement of Coriolanus. My Master (by what might be judged from appearance) had more favour than his Rival, which would have rendered his joy more perfect, had he carried that advantage from any but Marcellus; and he had hugged his happiness with a clearer delight, if it had not stood bend to his friend's prejudice. But if Coriolanus thus moderated the resentment of his own felicity, because it opposed his friends, Marcellus endured his disadvantage with patience, since Coriolanus reaped the profit, nor could his own misfortune afflict him without the mixture of some comfort, because it conduced to his friend's success.  
I desire not, (would Coriolanus say to Cleopatra) you should hate Marcellus; for, if a Man can merit it, he is worthy of your effection; but if it be destined for any Mortal, I demand it wholly and entire for Coriolanus. Marcellus would almost say the same things, only he durst not let his passion come abroad so openly as my Masters, for fear to displease the Emperor his Uncle, who did him the honour to design him his Daughter, helped him to cut out a disguise for his affection, and make the borrowed name of Brother (enjoined by Octavia) serve to mask that of Lover.  
Thus had they wasted almost a year, during which my Prince, doubtless more deep struck than Marcellus, daily gathered such fresh causes of displeasure from his friend's encroachment, as the melancholy it produced, began to settle itself in his face and behaviour, though the cause was concealed from all the World but myself, whom by a peculiar preference to the rest he always honoured with the knowledge of his secrets: And why, said he, one day to me, should, mischievous fortune raise me up a Rival of my dearest friend, and such a friend whose repose I cannot combat without wounding mine own? Ah! had it pleased the Gods to inspire any other but Marcellus, with the design of serving Cleopatra, our Swords should decide our titles, and sure I should kill any but Marcellus in so just a quarrel. In fine, his sadness grew to such a height, as Marcellus who perceived it with the first, began to be much troubled at it; and indeed (as one that went a deep share in all the resentments of so dear a friend) he often demanded the cause, though his own suspicion did partly answer him; but Coriolanus still took care to cover the truth, till all his friends reasons growing too weak to satisfy Marcellus care, at last he was constrained to discharge his heart, and one night as they lay together, which they often did, Marcellus having often pressed him upon that Subject, and a thousand times sworn he could never be capable of any pleasure so long as he saw him drowned in so deep a sorrow, and himself ignorant of its Fortune; the Prince sending one or two sighs before the Discourse he was to make: Brother, said he, (for so they always called one another) the Gods can attest, you do force that from me by your friendship, which I ever resolved to wrap in silence, though you might easily have read it by your own observation, and so have spared your constraint of a bad relation; Did you believe I could see myself traversed in a passion that is twined with my vital thread, by a friend as dear to me as myself, without a mortal displeasure? Do you think I could design the ruin of your content, or abandon the care of mine own repose without a cruel violence? You know I was Cleopatra's eldest prisoner, before your eye had marked her out for a Mistress, and had my dear Marcellus prevented my design of serving her, I should sooner have run upon my death than his pretences, or exposed him to the anguish he has made me resent; nor did I perceive he was my Rival, before I was engaged too deep to render what was due to our amity, which (if I may say it) he himself has forgotten to pay. Ah! would to Heavens our contest had been for Crowns, or any thing else of higher value, you should quickly have seen with what a free heart I would have given up my interest. But for Cleopatra, my dear Brother, 'tis that cannot be obtained of an enslaved spirit, that will never recover strength enough to get out of the Abyss wherein my spighthful Fortune has plunged me; I say my spiteful fortune, for what ever glory I acquire by Cleopatra's service and however my hopes may feed high upon success, I shall never think that fortune propitious, that must be established at the price of your repose; nor have I the liberty to Court it so much as with a single wish, since it can no where be raised, but upon the ruins of yours.  
Coriolanus accompanied these words with many others of the same nature, which sunk so sensibly to Marcellus heart, as it was long before he could recover strength enough to shape a reply; at last his words broke their way through his resentments, and embracing my Master with an ardent affection; My dear Brother, said he, Heaven is my witness, that when my eye first told me, Cleopatra was lovely, I did not believe your youth could have been capable of forming a design to serve her; and if I have since let myself slip into the snare, I rendered my liberty to that in vincible puissance, which no heart can resist; yet I confess I have sinned against our amity, and should prove myself unworthy of a place in Coriolanus heart, if I do not strive with my soul to render the reparation I owe you; I know my intentions are good, but do a little distrust my power; however but this night to clear all scores, and possibly, before we part, I shall make it appear how dearly I prise our friendship.  
Coriolanus would have replied to this discourse, but Marcellus opposed it, and pressed him so earnestly to give him the remainder of that night, as he was constrained to obey him; they both passed it over without so much as closing their eyes; my Master often overhearing the sighs that broke away from Marcellus, though he strove to imprison them with all his power, and still cut them off in the middle, lest their noise should convey them to my Master's ear. The hour that he was wont to call them up, was not yet arrived, when Marcellus turning himself to my Prince's side, with a vivacious and resolute action. Brother said he, I have combated and conquered for you, or rather for myself, since by this victory I am directed in part, how to expiate the crime I have committed; Cleopatra now is yours, and I ask your pardon for having so injustly disputed her; our friendship with the aid of reason, has almost driven her from my heart, and all that remains unfinished of the cure, I think may safely be referred to the Chirurgery of time, my youth, and a short absence, which is already designed: I am now entered an Age, that alarms me to the trade of my Ancestors, and tells me, 'tis time to go seek out reputation with my sword in my hand; I will therefore beg the Emperor's permission to go serve my Apprenticeship under the Consul Vinicius, who marches within a few days with a puissant Army into Germany, where I hope to perfect my recovery, not only by the help of a large distance, and a different employment, but a strong resolution more exactly to balance the Emperor's favour, and turn all my thoughts upon the Princess Julia, who has already honoured me with more affection than I have merited. At my return I dare promise, you shall find me so perfectly changed, as I shall conserve no other thoughts for Cleopatra, but to prise her as a Princess that deserves my friend's affection, and both to confirm and assist her designs in your favour, against all such persons as may plead pretences to the right you have in her.  
Thus the noble Marcellus charactered his victorious friendship, and at the close of his discourse, left my Prince so ravished at his freedom and generosity, as it cost him some time to put a shape to his resentments; yet at last he replied, but in such language, as did rather combat than gratulate his friend's intention; he was very loath to be outdone in generosity, or put his desires upon a gentler Rack for his friend, than he had already done for him: this begat a kind contest betwixt them, which lasted a great part of the day, and it was fought on both sides against themselves, with so much obstinacy, as the repetition of particulars would but tyre your attention; at last it was but fit that Marcellus whose (passion was of a latter date, and less ardent than my Masters) should keep the lists, and that my Prince's consent should quadrate to the Emperor's intentions, and People's desires, by placing his friend's heart in the Princess Julia's service; but he could not quit him to his Germane Expedition, without a resolution to bear him company, and besides the consideration of their amity, not being less tickled than he, with desire of glory, he concluded to carry his first Arms with him under Vinicius, and disposed himself for his departure with such lively hopes, as helped to charm a part of his griefs for leaving Cleopatra.  
Some Provinces in Germany newly risen in Rebellion, had cut in pieces the Roman Garrisons; and with two mighty Armies, levied upon the banks of Dannbius, not only struck a terror into all the neighbouring Nations, but swollen with success, began to menace the Empire itself; for this Expedition Caesar made choice of Vinicius, a sage and experienced Captain, to go in the head of the valiantest Legions: and he was ready to begin to March, when our two young Princes demanded leave of the Emperor, to go gather the first flowers of their reputation in the Field; I doubt not but you know this has been a Roman Custom, and all those famous Commanders the World has talked so much of, whose virtue gave Rome so vast a Dominion, did first learn their Alphabet of War under the ancient Captains.  
The two young Princes confirmed in this design, threw themselves at the Emperor's feet, representing that now the arrival of their seventeenth year had brought them strength to charge through the incommodities of War, it was time to begin with such actions, as might instruct them to deserve his affection, and copy the glory of their Ancestors; this request was easily obtained of the Emperor, whose generous spirit highly applauded their brave resolution.  
They presently put things in order for their parting, but my Master's grand preparation was to divide himself from Cleopatra! his passion was already grown to its full stature, and the Princess still preserved him in her favour, with particular improvements of good will; yet she began to draw herself within the guard of a greater reservation than formerly, and her increase of years taught her the severity to cut off those liberties by degrees, which her flexible youth had allowed him.  
The Prince's foresight of this prepared him to endure it with patience, instructing all his actions to express a respect to her so submissive, as pleaded a true title to what he had gotten in her heart, yet he could not defend himself from the stings of discontent at this separation, and had not a greedy desire of glory been too strong for his grief, every eye would have read it too plainly in his Visage.  
The parting day being arrived, he felt a necessity of all his courage, to pronounce an untroubled farewell to his Princess; but he gathered no slight satisfaction from his discovery, by some infallible tokens, that she was sensibly touched at this separation, and betrayed a timorous Jealousy of those dangers, to which he was going to expose his safety.  
There are too many passages challenge a mention in my recital, to allow me the leisure of enlarging myself upon the several discourses they enchanged at this parting, and therefore I shall only content myself to tell you, that my Prince, after he had made fresh protestations of an eternal fidelity to the Princess, obtained a promise from her fair mouth, to preserve him in her thoughts with so vigorous a care, as should weaken all the attempts of absence against her resolution, to prefer him before all men: but the parting words of Marcellus were very remarkable, and after he had vowed at Cleopatra's feet, that he despoiled himself (for his friend's sake) of all those pretences, that his love and services might have given him; he spoke such things in my Prince's behalf, as (though they did Truth no injury) could spring from no other Fountain but a strong and perfect amity, yet the sweetest of my Master's comforts at that parting, was a permission, by the command of Octavia, and consent of the Empress herself, to write to his Princess.  
But I will hold you no longer, the two Princes Marched away with a proud Equipage, and I followed my Master in that expedition, (as I did in all the rest that succeeded it) and joining the Troops that attended them, with the Consuls gross body; we left Italy behind us, and by large Marches quickly gained the Danubius; we met no adventures by the way that will deserve to be dwelled upon, and indeed my relation ought but slightly to pass away the morning of my Master's youth, that it may more speedily arrive at these weightier actions of which his life has been composed; I will only tell you that his beginnings were miraculous, that at his first encounters he did such things as ravished the Consul, amazed the Soldiery; and scarce found credit at Rome, though several letters reported it.  
Marcellus also at the first essay of his young valour, bravely signalised it by actions worthy of an eternal memory, and these two Princes, (in stead of Envy and Emulation) did mutually interess themselves in each others glory; Marcellus tasted no truer delight in his own, than in the Reputation Coriolanus had gotten, and Coriolanus could not listen to his proper praises, with clearer satisfaction, than to those that cried up Marcellus his credit; indeed 'tis true, my Master had the luck to perform some acts, that made his Fame sound higher than his Friends, and in the several encounters were made upon the banks of Danubius, before the grand Battle he rendered himself remarkable by the effects of a valour, which the Romans published beyond all example; at an encounter which one of our Legions had with some Troops of Barbarians, he rescued the Roman Eagles from a throng of Enemies that had newly seized them, and brought them back to Vinicius, with their wings bathed in the blood of his Enemies, who cried up that action with such loud praises, as could not be accepted by the Prince's modesty; at the assault of some revolted places that opposed our passage, and were carried by storm, he was ever the first that entered the breach; and by the confession of the Romans, their taking it was due to the glorious example he gave those that fought near him, nor was his valour (of which he had given them so many precedents) his only virtue, for in all those disorders that Victory uses to drag along with it, he gave proofs of a most unparallelled moderation, treated those that fell into his hands, more like Friends and Allies than Enemies, and at the taking of such places as were won by assault, he often obtained many lives of his Enemies by his earnest intercession, which Vinicius had designed for an exemplary terror to be cut in pieces: by such actions as these, with the rest of his brave demeanour among the Officers and Soldiers; he had so gained the hearts of the whole Army, that they all Petitioned Vinicius to give him some considerable Command, though it was unheard of in the Roman Discipline, to commit any charge to persons of his Age; and when Vinicius at their solicitation, assisted by his own esteem of their worth, had given him and Marcellus a joint Commission to Command the Cavalry, all the Officers submitted to them, with a joy that wanted no proofs to express itself.  
But the Germans were not the only Enemies they had to Combat, for Cleopatra's remembrance kindled a crueler War, than the Barbarians could menace; indeed my Prince had no greater task than daily to feed and confirm those thoughts that entirely laid his life at his Princess feet, every Idea that his fancy could shape, had the face of delight, and left a pleasing impression upon his spirit; but Marcellus fought with a ruder Combatant, and found his design to banish her his breast, was not like to gain an easy Conquest, however he stretched all his Forces to struggle for it, and at last his continued care carried the victory; my Master (who in part perceived the silent torments that Prince's generosity inflicted upon himself) did often endeavour to stagger his resolution, and daily protested, that he had rather have him for a Rival all his life, nay, and would sooner choose (if necessity required, and possibility consented) to release all his own pretences, than approve the violence suffered for his sake.  
But the generous Marcellus stuck to his promise with an unshaken constancy; and then being yery young, and daily diverted by his Warlike employment, which he ever followed with a marvellous ardour, he obtained in part of himself what he desired, and striving to prefer Julia to his thoughts by the memory of her beauty (which indeed might be ranked with the most delicate in the world) by the favour she had shown him, and the Emper or's will, upon whom his Fortunes totally depended, he quickly made a considerable progress.  
In the mean time my Prince wrote often to the Princess Cleopatra; it would pose my memory to repeat all his Letter, I have only in part retained the sense and words of some of the shortest, and I believe the first he wrote little differed from these terms.  
Prince Coriolanus, to the Princess Cleopatra.  
IT is not enough to tell you (my Divine Princess) that you are always present in my memory; for with greater truth I may protest you have the entire possession of my soul, where, in the sternest dangers, you ever keep your Command, and Combat Rome's Enemies with Arms that are invincible. Ha! my Princess, who can oppose a heart animated with so bright an Image? What Enemy will be able to dispute the glory with me that may show me the way to deserve you? This high design will doubtless teach me to do something more great, than Fortune can promise, and my destiny is too fair to fear a defeat by other Enemies, after being conquered by the Divine Cleopatra.  
This first in a short time was succeeded by another, and I think the words were these.  
Prince Coriolanus, to the Princess Cleopatra.  
I Would say Fortune smiled upon me, if the success I have gotten by her favour, were not moderated by an absence, to resist which, I have scarce any courage left me; yet I would strive to support it, might I hope a place in the memory of my adorable Princess, I confess I cannot ask it without rashness, and yet not forbear the demand, without neglecting what I owe to the conservation of a life I have given her.  
These were the two first he wrote, of which he received no answer; but a while after, having done wonders in another encounter, which report quickly carried to Rome, the Princess Octavia and the Emperor himself enjoined her to write to him, which to satisfy them, she did in these words.  
The Princess Cleopatra to Prince Coriolanus.  
I Obey the Commands imposed upon me, to write to you without repugnance, and I follow my proper inclinations, when I assure you of the interest I take in the glorious success of your arms; the whole world publishes your beautiful actions, Rome is an entire admirer, and I a particular rejoicer at them; the Gods grant that Fortune may never forsake you, and that you may not so blindly resign your safety to your courage, as not to be careful of preserving a life, that can never be indifferent to those you judge worthy of your remembrance.  
My Prince received this Letter from the Princess, with an excess of joy, and kissed it a thousand times, in an amorous rapture at these precious marks of her affection. The knowledge it gave him how much she concerned herself in his glory, spurred him on to greater enterprises, and carried him to such a sublime pitch in the whole Armies esteem, as it talked of nothing more than the effects of his Valour, nor was he less known (by the havoc he made) in the Enemy's Camp than ours.  
After divers Fights in Parties, the two Armies came to a general Battle, and it was fought so bravely on both sides, upon the Banks of Danubius, that the streams took increase and complexion from the blood that was spilt; young Coriolanus and his friend Marcellus at the head of the Cavalry they commanded, did there disclose such prodigies of Valour, as till then were not known among the Romans, and gave proofs of their prudence and good conduct, which no hopes could rationally expect from so immature an age: twice or thrice they rallied, and reinforced their Troops, which the first fury of the Barbarians had put into disorder, and led them on again so courageously, as after they had forced their resistance by a valour more than humane, they totally routed the Enemy, and obliged the Roman Consul to publish at the end of the day, that the Palm of Victory was only gathered by their virtue.  
Marcellus saved the life of Vinicius, mounted him again, and bravely cut him out a path to safety through a throng of his Enemies, in the middle of which, he was fight on foot in manifest peril of his life: and my Master among other actions, by which he signalised himself in that memorable day, having broken the stoutest Squadron that environed them, gave Death with his own hands to the two chief Commanders of the Enemy's Army, and by that action deprived all the rest of their courage which they took from the presence of their Generals.  
The Battle did not period the War, for there yet remained some scattered Troops to be defeated, and revolted places that made some resistance: two whole years were spent in this expedition, at the end of which the two Princes having now no more work for their Swords in Germany, bend their course with the Consul to Rome, laden with praises that were never due before to such young beginners; my Master daily shortened his way with all the joy that could be given him, by the hope of restoring his eyes to the sight of Cleopatra, whom two years absence (in stead of effacing) had more lively engraven in his memory, and which helped to complete his satisfaction, he perceived his dear Marcellus was perfectly cured, and that he had now no farther cause to fear to be traversed by such persons whose repose he was obliged to value.  
The exploits Vinicius had done in Germany were so great, that the Senate decreed him the honour of Triumph; but he refusing it with a remarkable modesty, the grandeur of his services were acknowledged by other recompenses that were very glorious, and by the command of the Emperor and Senate, there was made him a most magnific entry, where every thing appeared in a pompous dressing, but the greatest part of the Romans found nothing so beautiful as our two young Princes, that marched on both sides the Consul, clad in arms, that were hid in the splendour of Gold and Jewels, their head and shoulders were shaded with white Feathers, and themselves mounted on two white Horses, whose beautiful pride did marvellously aid the grace wherewith their Masters managed them; all those that saw them pass in that equipage, and had taken the account of the gallant actions they performed in War, from the mouth of Fame, strewed their passages with loud Acclamations of joy, and their praises thronged like themselves to welcome them; the Emperor received them with abundance of caresses, and the privilege Marcellus borrowed from his alliance, gave him no advantage of my Master in that reception; they were likewise saluted by the Empress and Princess Octavia with kind aspects; but when they approached Cleopatra, the sight of her made my Master's eye release all other objects, and his memory efface them; in this two years' absence he found her marvellously changed, her stature (though she was then but fifteen) already reached the common height of Women, her neck almost form to its perfect proportion, and her beauty mounted near to that Meridian in which you have viewed her; but with this advantageous change, a Royal Majesty sat iuthroned in her face, and armed her looks with a greater severity than appeared in her precedent years, and my Prince could not behold her visage without gathering the effects of a fear from her flowered Excellencies, which grew not there before in her budding youth; yet she received him with her obliging civilities, he had no sooner accosted her, but without regard to the illustrious Spectators, he bent a knee to the Earth, and ravished a kiss from her fair hand, before she could enforce him to rise, by this extraordinary respect publicly stripping part of his amorous designs to those eyes that had not yet discovered them. In the presence of so many witnesses and persons that waited to succeed one another in his embraces, he then had not the freedom of a particular converse with her, but his eyes were the Deputies of his tongue, and elegantly translated most of those amorous thoughts into passionate looks, which his mouth should have put into Accents, the whole Court spoke highly to his advantage, the general vote published his brave beginning beyond parallel, and the Emperor himself commended him to such a height, as might have topped the most irregular ambition; the honours that were rendered him had the approbation of all but Tiberius, the only man that envied his fortune, who (prepossessed by a mortal jealousy against him) was stung to the heart at the praises were given him; Marcellus had a great share in the glory, which indeed he justly merited, and the affection which the Romans naturally bore him, was marvellously augmented, by that clear proof of his virtue.  
My Master being returned to his lodging, was visited by a throng of his Friends, and the first news he received, was, that Tiberius was enamoured of the Princess Cleopatra; my Prince had begun to suspect it before his departure, but during his absence, Tiberius had made his re-search so public, as Rome had few persons that ignored it. Coriolanus resented this intelligence with a sensible displeasure, yet dissembled it to his Friends with all the power and skill he could use; but when they had left him the liberty to entertain me in private, he passionately declared himself, fearful of so puissant a Rival, not that the valour or merit of his Person had any place in his fears, for while those were only in question, he knew himself able to dispute Cleopatra; but he dreaded his Mother, the Empress Livia, well knowing, the credit she had with the Emperor, had power to cross his designs, if she once approved of her Son's affection: however he resolved to assault all obstacles that encountered him, and openly to dispute that at the price of his life, which his reason judged to be no man's due but his own.  
He patiently waiteth an occasion to entertain the Princess upon that subject, and (if possible) learn from her mouth the sentiments she had for his Rival; the following day offered him the liberty to make that trial, and obtaining the permission to give her a visit in her own lodgings, he enjoyed a large opportunity of exchanging his thoughts with her without interruption.  
Their first discourse may better be imagined than related, and you may easily judge my Master spent it upon the torments he suffered for her absence, while the Princess expressed the glad content she took in his return, with the happy and glorious success of his voyage; yet she contracted her language and looks with so much moderation and strict reserve, received the discourse with so serious a face, as it startled some of his forwardest hopes, which though he had foreseen, yet he was not so well fortified against it, as not to read over her visage with a timorous eye; yet he met something there that hinted the occasion he desired, and mingling the respect with his words, which that new Majesty imprinted; Madam, said he, if I may be permitted without offending the veneration I owe you, to undisguise a part of my Sentiments, I must take the liberty to say, that the severity that sits upon your brow, does promise no happy Augury to my hopes; indeed if it only springs from a right understanding of what you are, I have no reason left me to complain, and mine shall agree with the judgements of persons most disinteressed, that it is but a fit companion of that bright Majesty, which we all acknowledge in you, as the Princess of the World, in whom it is most justly sphered; but if it parts from another cause, I do there behold my condemnation, and read my irreparable ruin.  
I did not perceive, said the Princess, interrupting him, that my behaviour to you had put on any other fashion than it has formerly worn, and if a small access of years, has a little checked the freedom of my carriage; I cannot think the change can either disadvantage your hopes, or disquiet your repose: I did always judge, replied the Prince; that the childhood of my fortune was too forward to be long-lived, nor can I frame a just complaint, because you cut off a part of those favours which I never merited; but since all men are as unworthy as I, with your permission I will believe, that Tiberius has not more right to demand them than myself.  
By these words Cleopatra perceived the kindle of my Master's jealousy, and now not doubting but he had heard of the pursuits Tiberius had made in his absence, she resolved to keep on the Mask no longer, and preventing his discourse with a smile; Indeed I thought, said she, you would meet with the notice of what has passed since your departure, and if you still owned an interest in my affairs, you would not stay long for the knowledge, that Tiberius has offered me affection; I did believe it necessary to dissemble what I knew of it, nor shall I make any scruple to avow (if my apprehension scaped mistake) that the resentments Tiberius has for me are the same with yours: With mine, said Coriolanus, with a hasty interruption, Ah! Madam, do not wound me with so deep a displeasure, to think mine can suffer comparison, without a mortal offence; I will easily believe Tiberius doth love you, for there is nothing upon Earth deserves less incredulity, but that his Passion can measure with mine, is a belief that all the strength of my submission and obedience is too weak to bow me to; Tiberius has excellent qualities, and possibly a Person more considerable than mine, but our dispositions are very different, & I know our souls are incapable of cherishing an equal flame; if all the requisites of Love were comprised in offering Protestations of fidelity at your feet, or sprucing up the passion in artificial language, perhaps I might justly claim no advantage; but if to misprise and abandon all those things, wherewith ambitious persons build their felicity, to sacrifice my life at your feet; nay, and if possible, to die it a thousand times over in your sacrifice, be to love aright, methinks you should find some difference 'twixt the Passion of Tiberius, and that of Coriolanus.  
Then I will tell you, said the Princess, to repair the displeasure I have given you; that I do distinguish betwixt you; and if I thought you would not take too much advantage of my words, I would add, that you are better placed in my opinion than Tiberius, not that his affection has not put on as fair and specious proofs, nor that it has almost spoke the same language that yours have uttered, yet with truth I dare assure you, that neither his discourse nor actions have got any hold in my heart, and if I change not my humour, I think it will ask a long time to make my inclinations look that way.  
This free and unreserved Declaration of the Princess, gave my Master a satisfaction that drove away all his fears, and calmed his displeasures, which not being able to dissemble one moment, recovering that gaiety that usually sparkled in his lively looks; I am made too glorious, said he, by the honour you have done me, in thus unmasquing your propensions; and since they are not disposed of my Rival, but I am permitted to try my title with him by my services, I will learn to hope from your bounty, and the Divine favour, that he shall not carry the advantage; and now Madam, I will freely confess, that I take not my greatest fears from his person, for I do much more redoubt the credit of the Empress, than either the services or good qualities of Tiberius. 'Tis true, replied Cleopatra, the Empress did a while since speak in his favour, but she had not as yet much pressed it; for as her thoughts are busier in building up the fortunes and greatness of her Son, than soothing his affection; so I think her studies are more directly leveled, at a power in the Emperor's spirit, than in mine: May she have the God's consent, replied Coriolanus, to the success of that design, for they all know I will neither grudge him the favour of Augustus nor the possession of the Empress, provided he lets fall his Title to my Princess affection.  
Cleopatra was going to reply, but was hindered by the arrival of the Princess Julia and Marcellus; who, with a great train of other persons, than entered the Chamber, but the following days they resumed opportunities of reviving this discourse, which gave my Master, a clear discovery, that he was not only preferred to Tiberius in his Princess thoughts, but was almost as well seated there, as his own reason could desire from such a person as Cleopatra, whose courage was already mounted to that pitch, that there was not a humane consideration capable to abase her spirit so much as to one single thought, unworthy of her former Fortunes.  
In the mean time the two Princes her Brothers were brought up at Octavia's house, with as much care as was due to their extractions, and equal to the hopes they promised; Alexander was of the same age with his Sister, Ptolomee one year younger, and both endowed with a beauty so excellent, such an amiable gentileness was stamped in their behaviour, performing all the Exercises were taught them, with such a graceful dexterity, and disclosing so much grandeur of Courage in all such encounters, as gave them opportunities to show the marks of it; as all the Roman People regarded them with admiration, the Emperor highly esteemed, and the Court considered them as the deserving Children of so great a Father, and worthy to inherit a better destiny; they no sooner reached 15 but they appeared at all the great Meetings, and despising the childish employments, that commonly busied persons of their age, they mingled with those of riper years that addicted themselves to such as were more serious and important.  
My Prince who both regarded them as Cleopatra's Brothers, and as Princes that needed no other assistance than their own desert to purchase his esteem, strove to endear them with much affection, and equally engaged himself to their interests and his own; but he particularly observed something so great and so noble in the Mind and Spirit of Alexander as invited him to a perfect amity, and that Prince (young as he was) so well understood my Master's admirable qualities, that his affection to him, scarce gave Marcellus the precedency.  
At that time the inclinations of Marcellus began to bend their course to another Centre, and as he still drove on the design of drawing off his thoughts from Cleopatra, so he turned his eyes with less reluctance upon the Beauties of the Princess Julia, which he found so full of charms, as it was impossible, after his resolve entirely to put off the other passion, to regard her long with an indifferent eye; in effect that Lady is Mistress of so delicate a beauty, as it may scarce give place to any of Nature's choicest favourites, and she makes use of these advantages with so nimble an ingenuity, as few persons in the World come near her; she has a spirit, hardy, supple, and pliant to all sorts of encounters, but very wavering and dangerous to the repose of such persons as are taken with her baits, which had Marcellus known before, I think he would not easily have engaged upon those Rocks, against which her inconstant and artificial humours have often dashed him.  
Though doubtless you have taken this in bulk from the mouth of Report, yet I may learn you some particulars in the recital of my Master's life, which never yet came at your ear; and indeed their adventures are so entangled one with another, as it would be a very difficult task to single them in my relation: when Marcellus first undertook to serve Julia in earnest, he found her disposition so ready to receive his addresses, as (though himself had valued his desert at the highest) he could not have gotten such large hopes in so little time, without the assistance of a powerful anticipation; but this dexterous wit, no sooner perceived he had swallowed the bait, but she began by degrees to put a cover upon her former kindness, as much as to say, she was willing he should openly buy that with some pain, which indeed she had already liberally given him, before he was willing to ask it.  
Marcellus was not the only Prisoner to Julia's beauty, for some of the Principal Romans, with divers King's Sons that were brought up at Rome, and many Kings themselves, which the necessity of their Affairs detained near Augustus' Person, did all sigh for her in secret.  
In the mean time my Master and Tiberius daily met in Cleopatra's Chamber, both openly professing their research; but the knowledge they both had of this mutual competition, would not have been pocketed on either side, if some powerful considerations had not held their hands; Tiberius was well acquainted with my Master's courage, and my Prince forgot not Livia's authority and credit with the Emperor. One evening they met at her Lodgings, which immediately preceded a day that Augustus had appointed for publicly spectacles, wherein, besides Gladiators, and Combats with wild Beasts in the Amphitheatre, the noblest Romans were to show their address in Courses on Horseback, and divers other exercises that suited their condition; for these my Master, Tiberius and Marcellus, made their preparations, and form Parties to signalise themselves before their Princesses, thus tacitly instructing the whole City, to expect things from them worthy of their Magnificence and Gentilness.  
A part of the foregoing night was passed away in the Princess Cleopatra's Chamber, who had been let blood that day, and carried her Arm in a rich Scarf tissued with Gold and Silk, and wrought with admirable artifice, which the Rival Princes had no sooner seen, but they were both struck with an equal ardour, to wear that precious favour in the next days solemnity; my Prince's respect and moderation imprisoned his desires, but Tiberius being more hardy, or (to express it better) less respective, was willing to make use of that confidence, which he knew how to practise in the rest of his actions, and addressing his words to my Master; Think you not Coriolanus, said he, that the Person which could gain the Princess consent, to let him wear this precious Scarf in the Lists to morrow, would not have a grand advantage of his Companions, and, by a Favours encouragement of so high a price, infallibly carry that which the Emperor has designed for the best deserver? That will be easily granted, replied my Prince coldly, but as I think it a grace which few men's hopes are worthy to aspire at, so I doubt the Princess will not find out any that are fit for so much happiness: and why not, said Tiberius, what ever price her Favours can amount to, can any reason forbid hopes to those Courages that are hardy enough to enterprise all things for her service? Her goodness allows us to hope for what she is pleased to grant, replied my Master, but Rash is a fitter Epithet than Hardy, for him that will raise a Title to it, as a thing that may be merited, when he only ought to wait for it from her pure condescension.  
Tiberius was going to reply, when the Princess, who had all this time been silent, regarding him with a disdainful look; Do not put yourself to the trouble, said she, of disputing those pretences any further, my Favours do but weakly deserve your Services, and you should do well to levelly them at objects of higher value, which possibly you may obtain with greater ease.  
If I ever took care, (said Tiberius) to aim at any thing but you only, let me wear out my life without a recompense: yet I cannot despair, continued he with a smile, to obtain part of my desire, and I am now going to ask the Gods good will, that I may have yours to accord it. When he had uttered these words, making a low Reverence to the Princess, he left her presence, with a face apparently full of satisfaction.  
My Master who had listened to this discourse, not without the use of his patience, stayed some time the Princess after his departure, whom he then entertained with a larger liberty, and expressed an ardent desire to appear next day in the field, under her Colours; but he found her indisposed to grant that request, and as she ever tempered all her actions with an admirable circumspection, she contented herself to afford him a verbal assurance, that she gave him the preference above all the persons that served her, without consenting to allow him advantages, which she thought would belly that haughty and rigorous virtue, of which she made a severe Profession.  
The next day all things were made ready in the Amphitheatre that the Pomp required, but I think you do not desire my relation should range on either side from what concerns my Master's life; I will therefore contract the particulars, and only tell you, that every thing was disposed for the celebration of these sports; the people were ranked according to the customary order, the Emperor placed on one side, with the most considerable persons of the Senate, and the Empress on the other with all the Princesses and noblest Roman Ladies, when my Prince entered the Cirk armed and mounted very gallantly; all his Armour offered the eye a mingled splendour of Gold and Jewels, and the hand of Art had so curiously embellished the materials, as it would long have kept the assistants gazing, if the grace of him that bore him, had not beckoned their looks to a more delightful attention; his Cask was shaded with twenty white feathers, and through his Visor, which was then half up, there appeared a face so noble and so amiably fierce, as all the Spectators beheld it with respect, and almost all their hearts voted in his favour; but the acclamations of the people could take but little hold of his thoughts, and despising all sorts of other objects, he sent his eyes in search of the Princess, whom they found seated at the Empress' feet, by the Princess Octavia's side, where she shined like some great Star, whose Master-light had half obscured the rest of the Celestial Spangles, attracted the eyes of Rome, and busied all men's thoughts, with a just wonder at her beauty; when I saw her in that estate, I confess I was dazzled as well as the rest, and posed to find any thing strange in the effects which that marvel of beauty produced in my Master's spirit.  
After he had spent some time in gazing upon her, with all the affections of a Man that had lost his heart, he was obliged to retire to another side, and put himself in the head of his Troops after the example of Tiberius, Marcellus, Agrippa, young Alexander and his Brother, who already began to mingle themselves in those Exercises, with the other Captains, which were then preparing to begin the sports; Never was any thing seen more pompous than Marcellus, and his brave Mine had the help of all the Ornaments and advantages that the Roman Curiosity could invent; nor was Tiberius behind him in the pride of Garb and Equipage; he was Jeweled all over with a marvellous profusion, his Habit, Casque and Armour, were starred with a thousand flames, which dazzled all the Spectators optics; but, for his most precious and remarkable ornament, his Shoulders were covered with that fair Scarf, which my Prince had seen Cleopatra wear the night before, and the same which gave occasion to the discourse recited; my Master no sooner saw but he knew it, and that knowledge suddenly stabbed itself through his heart with a mortal surprisal, an universal shivering presently ran through all his Members, and in one moment overthrew the force of his Reason; he stood and gazed a while, holding his Arms across, in the posture of a man that was Planet-struck, upon that cruel object, when the sound of the Trumpets, which made the Amphitheatre echo, called him back to himself, and made him demand a resolution of his spirit; the first that presented itself to his incensed thoughts, was to fly upon Tiberius, and snatch away his life in the sight of the Emperor and all the Romans, and change the Combat which was only designed to wear the harmless livery of delight into a Crimson complexion, but these tempestuous thoughts to which the first motions of his fury hurried him, began already to overblow in his mind; they were opposed with some remains of reason, but more overpowered with the fear of offending Cleopatra, than any other consideration; he had some thoughts publicly to reproach that Princess, with the injustice she had done him, but respect had still strength enough left to defer the effect of that resolution; the last which he closed with, was, to retire from those sports, where he had now neither force nor courage to appear like himself, and take fresh advice of his thoughts, without the interruption of so many spectators.  
These deep Cogitations that suspended his sense and motion, had swallowed so much time, as all the Troops had already changed their places, and begun to join in the Exercise, only his stood still in its place, attending his order and example to move; the young Alexander who was of his side, had often called to him, when taking him gently by the Arm, My Lord, said I, do you not perceive that ours is the only Troop that is not Marched? This brought him to himself, and regarding him with a visage wholly changed; Let us go Emilius, said he, I can do no more. At these words after he had entreated Alexander to take his place, he crowded through his own Squadron, and leaning upon my shoulder retired towards one of the Gates.  
Tiberius, whose interest still kept an eye upon my Master's actions, perceived him when he parted, and taking commission from his haughty pride, newly swollen with this present prosperity, to brave him: What Coriolanus, cried he, do you retreat? do you quit the Lists? These words had like to have put my Master past all consideration, and provoked him to a percipitate assault of that Rival with his Sword in his hand, who had taken so much insolence from that advantage; but a reserve of Judgement did then hold the hands of his passion, and only turning towards him with a furious look, and a pair of eyes that flamed with rage; 'Tis not to thee, said he, that I quit the Lists, but to those marks of thy Fortune, which thou art not worthy to bear, and which I shall possibly find a time to make thee resign, with thy life to boot.  
I believe Tiberius (who had turned his head another way) did not well understand these last words, but they were clearly overheard by divers persons of his own party, that might easily carry them to his ear, and to that purpose my Master spoke them.  
'Tis not unlikely, interrupted Tyridates, that they might be concealed by the discretion of those that heard them, lest they should incense the Emperor, with somenting a quarrel betwixt persons so considerable as your Master and Tiberius.  
I am of the same belief, replied Emilius, In the mean time, Sir, let me entreat, you would not think it strange, it I a little amplify some particulars, that are not the most important in my Master's life, though not altogether so trivial, but you may possibly judge them worthy of your attention.    

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA, OR Love's Masterpiece. PART II.  
LIB. II.  
ARGUMENT.  
Coriolanus, by an improvement of his jealous mistake, and the receipt of an angry answer from Cleopatra, falls into a desperate fever. Marcellus unridles Tiberius 's Plot, cures the Malady, and reconciles the Lovers. Julia loosely deserts Marcellus, and displaces her affection upon Corolianus, her levity divides the friends, till Coriolanus clears the suspicion. The enquiry of their fate from Trasillus begets an open Quarrel 'twixt him and Tiberius, the Emperor interposes, and Cleopatra is proposed as a prize to him of the two that deserved best in their Military employments.  
THUS my Master left the Amphitheatre, excusing his departure with some indisposition to those that demanded the reason; myself was as ignorant as the rest, of the true cause of it, but when we were arrived at his Chamber, as I was taking off his Arms, I remarked an extreme paleness, and an extraordinary change in his Visage, which made me timerously demand the cause of so great and sudden an alteration. He stood a good while without returning an answer, overwhelmed with so black a sadness, as it scarce left him the use of speech; but after I had often redoubled my solicitations to know the reason; Didst thou not see, said he, with two or three sighs, didst thou not see that Scarf which Tiberius wore to day upon his Arms, and couldst not perceive it was the same that Cleopatra carried her arm in yesterday, when thou wert with me at her Lodgings? To me she refused the slightest, and most trivial favours, though I begged them with abundance of submission, and to that insolent, has granted what he proudly pretended to in my presence, on purpose to dress him up a Triumph over me, while my own eyes, with all the People's must stand gazing at my shame; that inconstant woman has forgot the promises she repeated a thousand times over, to place me ever in her esteem before him, has forgot herself on purpose, to publish her legerity to all the Empire. That Cleopatra, that spirit which I believed incapable of the weakness, and imperfections of the Sex, has ruined me with the fall from virtue, and makes nothing to give up a Prince as a prey to despair, that can show more desert for her affection, than he that her ingratitude and injustice preferred before him; in the sequel of this passionate discourse, he let lose a Torrent of other reproaches; but within one moment retracted all, with a sudden motion of repentance gets the Mastery of his resentments, and demands Pardon of the Princess for the rash words his rage had uttered; then he turns the tide of his choler upon Tiberius, and addressing his Speech to him with an action full of fury; Think not, said he, think not thou insolent Rival, to prevail by these advantages that fortune has blindly given thee, thou dost thou dost hold nothing of me, but of her, and if by the fall of my Empires I am fallen to a lower esteem with Cleopatra, than the Son of Livia; at least by a courage more Noble, a birth more illustrious, and the Testimonies of a Love more perfect than his, I may repair the defects of that, which giddy chance has only given thee above me: thou art now grown gay with the spoils of my repose and glory, and hastproudly decked thyself with an Ornament due to me only, but fear Tiberius, (if thy fortune will let thee apprehend it) fear, that this present may prove fatal; thou mayst yet be put to buy it at the price of thy blood; nor canst thou give dear enough for it, though all thy veins were emptied for the payment. His passion brought forth a thousand other complaints full of the marks of transport and despair. In this manner he tormented himself the rest of the day, till the evening arrived, and about the hour they returned from the Spectacles, he resolved to write to the Princess; when, after he had tried all the strength of his reason to tame the rage that possessed him, and reduce himself to a condition, employing of the same respect, which he usually expressed in his other Letters, at last he made the Paper speak in these terms.  
Prince Coriolanus, to the Princess Cleopatra.  
IT is not for the unfortunate Coriolanus to complain of Cleopatra: he owes her all, and, has merited nothing of her; but if he might have leave to assume the liberty, he would make it appear that though he be unworthy of her favours, Tiberius has not better deserved them: the grant of so public an advantage, has openly destroyed the promise you made me, never to prefer the Son of Livia before the Prince of Mauritania: but since it is not permitted me to demand of my Sovereign the effects of her promises, I will try the courtesy of Death, for a comfort which I can receive of none but her, and for which I am willing to owe her the entire obligation.  
He had no sooner finished these words, when (without consulting further with respect or reason) he commanded me to carry them to the Princess. I found some precipitation in this proceeding, but as I ever paid him a blind obedience, I took the Letter and carried it to Cleopatra's Lodgings. She was newly returned from the Amphitheatre, and retired alone into her Cabinet much troubled, but when she knew I was there to speak with her, she commanded I should enter; I presently read a part of her discontent in her visage, yet she forced it (before I had time to speak) to demand how my Master did, In a very sad estate Madam, said I, part of which you will learn from the Letter he commanded me to give you.  
The Princess, without returning an answer, took the Letter and read it, but before she had got to the end, I easily perceived that choler had drowned the Lilies of her face in a flood of blushes. That haughty courage could not suffer the liberty he took to reproach her, and feeling her own Innocence, she repented her design to give him comfort and satisfaction, if his patience could have waited it; and now despite began to grow active in her, but she commanded herself with a power so irresistible, as hindered the heat of it from breaking out in my presence; though she knew my Master honoured me with he knowledge of his secrets, and letting fall the Letter upon the Table, with an action full of cold neglect: Coriolanus has reason, said she, to believe, that it is not for him to complain of Cleopatra, nor demand the effects of her promises; for my part I never made any to him, that could engage me so deep as he has injustly pretended: my favours are neither for Tiberius nor him, nor shall ever be granted to any person that usurps the liberty to upbraid me: I could possibly justify myself against his reproaches, and perhaps would have done it too, had he given me time; but since he has prevented the intention I might have had, with an act so insuitable to the knowledge he should have of my humour, bid him go seek his comforts where he can find them, and let me be quiet.  
At these words (after she had made me a sign to retire) she took up a book and began to read in it, without turning her head any more towards me. I went away in a deep sadness, and a grand confusion, at the bad success of my message, and was no sooner returned to my Master, but my Face told him part of the truth before my Tongue could begin it; yet I had some design to sweeten it as much as possible, but his impatience would neither allow me the time, nor leave me assurance, forbidding me to disguise any thing, with a a look so severe and terrible, as I durst not adventure it. Then I punctually recounted to him the action, and repeated the language word for word of Cleopatra, which brought him to the saddest condition that misfortune could make; I did believe the unkindness he took at her pretended change, would have fortified him against the fear of her anger: but his soul found room enough for both the passions, and if he were afflicted with a belief of Cleopatra's discretion, he trembled at the thought of her anger, and the very intelligence of so hasty an indignation in so moderate a spirit, confirmed his opinion of her inconstancy; for he could not believe that petty offence could pass her so suddenly, to a cold indifferency touching his repose and his life, unless she had lost that which formerly nourished the care of it, and received a new impression that had effaced the old one; then did he let fly such language and behaviour, that it was but little conformed to his ordinary moderation; all his thoughts tended to the death of Tiberius: but he was soon put past the power of acting those resolutions, and whether caused by the jealousy of his Rival's Fortune, or apprehension of Cleopatra's anger, he fell that very evening into a most violent Fever.  
He was scarce laid in his bed, when Marcellus (who had been anxious for his welfare, ever since he saw him depart the Cirque so unexpectedly) entered the Chamber; I was very glad of his presence, hoping the power he had in his spirit, would prove the best medicine to remit his disease: before he approached my Master's bed (who yet knew not of his coming) he demanded of me the account of his health, and I (knowing my Master never used to hide any thing from him) was willing to give him the naked truth, concerning it, requisite to save the sick man the labour, who could not enter upon that recital, without the danger of a passionate transport. Marcellus was astonished at the discourse which I made him touching Cleopatra's Scarf, and the rage she was in at my Master's Letter, and being indeed his real friend, he did tenderly interess himself in his affection; but he was Master of a grand courage, and that rather disposed him to assist than bewail his friend; with this design approaching his bed's side, What Coriolanus, said he, is your courage fled, as soon as you feel the first blow of misfortune? cannot you call to mind how bravely it has served you in more dangerous encounters? Ah! my dear Marcellus, replied the Prince with a deep sigh, as my unhappiness is stated, how vainly would my courage struggle to relieve me? and how much more easy is it to brave Death with my Sword in my hand, than thus to support the Choler and inconstancy of Cleopatra? I know, said Marcellus, Cleopatra's Choler will not be long lived, and for her inconstancy, let me tell you, your suspicion is built but upon slight appearances. Call you these slight appearances, replied my Prince, that I saw with my proper eyes, and could Tiberius obtain a more considerable advantage over me, than that which glittered in the sight of the whole City? Emilius has told me all, said Marcellus, and I confess you have some cause of discontent; but thus to throw yourself down so weakly, is that which I cannot pardon, since I can see no solid foundation to prop the opinion of your unhappiness. Ah! Marcellus, cried my Master, how easy is it for those to swim in a tide of prosperity, to sentence a weakness, which doubtless themselves would fall into, if their fortune once grew angry! Do you believe, pursued he, leaning upon his Elbow, and regarding Marcellus with a passionate look do you believe that after such visible marks of Tiberius' fortune, and my disgrace, I can keep the current of my grief within the banks of moderation? and would you esteem that a true courage as you allege, if it should defend me from the sensibility I owe to the utter shipwreck of my hopes? No no, my dear Marcellus, since I have fastened my life to Cleopatra's affection, 'tis but fit it should die with it, and I ask no more of the Gods, but only to give way to my revenge upon Tiberius; I saw that insolent man decked with a precious favour, that I durst not raise my hopes to, and I remember, after he had proudly demanded it in my presence, his discourse and action witnessed that he was sure to obtain it; that Princess, which I believed incapable of so black a dissimulation, cunningly covered her design to favour him, and since made no difficulty to belly the appearances that deceived me, and display to every Roman eye the advantages she gave him to the prejudice of my hopes: After so cruel a disgrace, one slight complaint, and that too sweetened with respect, a complaint which the Gods never forbade us in our least afflictions, has drawn upon me the indignation of that spirit, which (had it not been changed) would easily have pardoned the effect of so just a resentment. Nor would she have put so much gall of contempt and cruelty in her words, if she had not designed this life (which I have entirely given her) for a Sacrifice to despair; and oh that herself would offer it! or at least behold the deplorable end of a life which I will preserve no longer, since it has displeased, and is grown indifferent to her. At afflictions of this stamp, my dearest friend, you do but throw away the fruit of your generosity; and this effect of friendship which your admirable virtue has forced from you in my favour, is now lavished in vain, since my present condition will neither permit me to receive nor requite it.  
The Prince (who thus let himself be carried down the impetuous stream of his passion) would doubtless have enlarged his complaint, if Marcellus, who judged a discourse so vehement, might prove a dangerous foe to his health, had not interrupted him.  
I do not seek to oppose your resentments, said he, and I am well enough acquainted with the cause that afflicts you, to excuse the effects, but I could have wished you had made a clearer discovery before you leaped the precipice to these extremities. I know I can quickly learn the truth, and when you have no further cause to doubt of your good or ill fortune, we shall see what behaviour will best become you; 'tis too late this night to see the Princess Cleopatra, but to morrow I will not fail to visit her, and as cunning as she is, I dare pawn my promise she shall find a hard task to hide her inclinations from my knowledge; in the mean time for my sake dispose yourself to rest, and oblige my endeavours to redeem you from this sad condition, with the auspicious hope of a happy success.  
My Master was so deeply buried in grief, as he slighted the officious cares of his friend, and earnestly opposed his design to labour his repose, protesting; if his life were indifferent to Cleopatra, he would never try the strength of his own, nor others industry to preserve it: but Marcellus, having stayed some time with him, made a discreet use of it in insinuating such pressing reasons, as if he did not pacify his spirit, at least he disposed it, to expect the event of his intended discourse with Cleopatra. When Marcellus was gone, my Master wasted the rest of the night with nothing but sighs and sobs, accompanied with disjointed speeches: and though his fever was very intense, he would not suffer us to call a Physician, nor employ any remedies to rescue his health, which himself had abandoned.  
The next day, so soon as the Princess Cleopatra might civilly be seen, the officious Marcellus went to her lodging, and found her in the same angry mood that possessed her the day before, nevertheless she received him with all the civility was due to his condition, to the merit of his person, and the particular esteem she had always born him; she had then no other company with her but one Maid, whom she peculiarly trusted, which offered him opportunity to entertain her with liberty enough, and taking a hint from the sadness that overspread her visage, to fall upon his design; If I did not highly value your quiet, said he, I would borrow some comfort from the encounter of a person, that appears as Malcontent as myself, but I will always importune the Gods to preserve you from such afflictions as I endure.  
Though the Princess suspected his drift, yet she was not willing to cross it, and feigning some amazement at his words; If I knew you had a just cause for any inward anguish, said she, I ever esteemed you at the price of taking my share in your afflictions; but I cannot think you have now any reason to find fault with your fortune. Yes, I have great cause to complain of her, replied Marcellus, and if respect would permit me, would say, of you too, since you have both joined to destroy me, the most generous, and perfectest friend that ever breathed; the infortunate Coriolanus dies, and I cannot comprehend for what offence you have doomed him; sure you can neither doubt the grandeur of his love nor respect, and for the qualities of his person, they are so known to all the world, that 'tis not likely you alone should ignore them; I would say more, (and if you please, you may safely give me leave) that you have formerly esteemed him, and time is not two days older, since he had cause to be proud of his fortune; but the space of one night has ruined him, and then, when he was least prepared for so cruel a revolution, he hath seen with his own eyes the indubitable marks of his disaster, and received from another's mouth, that brought him your intentions, the fatal sentence you pronounced against him; yet he does not murmur at you, nor complain of his Destiny, since he always laid it at your feet, but if an innocent may have leave—  
Marcellus would have gone on, when the Princess (who had listened with impatience) hastily interrupted him; 'Tis enough Marcellus, said she, I apprehend all you would say for your friend, and possible I should not so long have suffered the same discourse from another person: I am neither ignorant of his birth, nor the qualities of his person, and till now I wanted cause to complain of his affection or respect? but since he has begun to quit it, and believes he may lawfully take commission from my softness, for his pretence to the command of my actions, he ought not to think it strange if I desire to disabuse him, and let him know, that I will never resign that power either to him or any person living. See what a Letter he hath sent me, (continued she, taking up my Master's Letter, which lay open upon the Table) consider the terms, and judge if you please whether it holds a proportion with that respect, for which you would fain recommend him.  
When he wrote the Letter, replied the discreet Marcellus, he deemed himself already lost to your thoughts, for he had seen Tiberius' vapour it with the badge of a happiness which could never be built but upon his ruin, and at the knowledge of so visible and so public an infelicity, would you have him do less than put in his complaint, which methinks he has done too with moderation enough. Had he made use, replied the Princess, of that moderation and respect you talk of, he should doubtless have received a full satisfaction, for as his misfortune had no other foundation but his own opinion, so that once confuted, he would have been restored to the Estate, of which he believed himself unjustly deprived: but instead of repairing to me with a due respect for my construction of the truth, he writes to me in an imperious stile, upbraids me with promises made him, and favours given to Tiberius, in terms full of pride and insolence; do you think he did not owe me the deference, at least to inform himself calmly of the truth, before he flew into reproaches so audaciously against a Princess, to whom by his own confession, he had given some power in his breast, and to whom his Choler would have been very indifferent, if she had not formerly allowed him some favours, which he has unworthily abused?  
I confess, answered Marcellus, he was a little inconsiderate, yet it is true too, that those passions are faint and feeble, that in such a trial are compatible with that cold discretion you expected from him, and I should not have believed Coriolanus had loved with ardour, if after the knowledge of this disaster, founded upon so clear an appearance, he he had still kept his reason in her Throne. He ought to have understood me better, said Cleopatra hastily, and rather have given his own eyes the lie, than admitted an opinion, and taken the boldness to declare it too, that has mortally offended me: he should have left me the liberty of my own actions, if it be true that he has given me the command of his; and had he called to mind how I have led my life, it would have checked his hasty belief, that I had any right to these reproaches. I should not, then, have refused to justify myself to him; as I will now to you, not for the satisfaction of Coriolanus but Cleopatra, and to stop the course of your opinion, lest it should condemn me of more kindness to Tiberius than I am guilty of. Know then he had not that Scarf of me, that helped to deck his Parade at the public Sports, but received it from the Empress his Mother, who yesterday came into my Chamber when I was dressing, and finding it lay upon the Table, she fell a commending the Work, and begged it of me; I could not tell how to refuse such a toy, to a person of whose bounty I held all that I had, and I should not have denied it, though my suspicion had foreseen the request was designed with so little Decorum to her dignity; but concealing her intention, she carried it herself out of my Chamber, and doubtless gave it to her Son, who I am confident had obliged her to ask it: but when I saw it at the Solemnities appear upon his shoulder, I wanted not much of being as mad as Coriolanus himself; nor could I since recover such a temper, as I durst trust myself withal, to visit the Empress, for fear the cozenage would have urged my resentments to some unbecoming language. Thus Marcellus, have I given you the naked truth, and should not have scrupled the same to Coriolanus: had he not forgot to give me my due, and by this indiscreet behaviour redoubled my vexation.  
While Cleopatra spoke in this manner, and Marcellus (ravished with joy in his friend's behalf) heard her with a greedy attention, Tiberius entered the Chamber; and as if the Gods had then voted the conclusion of this adventure, he still wore the same scarf upon his Arm, that had caused so much disorder, which he was resolved to carry there, as long as it would hold the fastening.  
The Princess no sooner spied him, but the object awaked her anger, which Marcellus easily construed by the comment of a blush, that hastily overflowed her checks; nor could his impatience do less than change his colour at the fight of those spoils, in a Rival's possession, which had cost his friend so much anguish.  
Tiberius had no sooner taken a seat, and disposed himself to enter into discourse, when the impatient Princess (no longer able to keep her passion under hatches) regarding him with eyes that expressed the contents of her meaning; Tiberius said she, intercepting the first word he uttered, I take it very ill you should carry that about you by the Artifice and Authority of a person who has power over me, which you could not obtain by your own credit; and it was with a most sensible displeasure that I saw you make your public Parade, with a thing, which no consideration should ever have bend me to grant you.  
Tiberius was deeply surprised at this Discourse, and much ashamed it should happen in the presence of Marcellus, whose affection, he knew, had knit him to Coriolanus interest; yet his natural confidence quickly re-assured him, and endeavouring to chain up his resentment, that his respect to the Princess might still be at liberty: I did not believe, said he, we could have sinned in following the stream of our Fortune and Glory, even the same way you have condemned; but my desires should have chosen another path, had I thought this would have led me to your displeasure; but since my unhappiness hath conducted me thither, I am ready to render as great a reparation of the fault as you can claim of my obedience. All▪ I demand, replied Cleopatra, is, you would presently restore my Scarf, and suffer me no longer to languish in displeasure, when it is in your power to free me: You gave it to a person, answered Tiberius, from whom I thought you would not have resumed it in this manner; and since you know I had it of the Empress, I hope you will not ordain me to put it into any other hands than hers: When I gave it the Empress, added Cleopatra, I believed it was intended for herself, and not you, and when she shall desire it again for her service, I will be ready to render it again for her service, I will be ready to render it with all the respect I owe her: Methinks you should not place it among my offences, said Tiberius, if I strive to preserve what came from so blessed a place, and so good a hand, nor think it strange that I rather choose to abandon my life, than a gem that I prise above it, of which you have no right to deprive me, since I hold it not of your hounty.  
You had never received it of the Empress, answered the Princess, had you given her the least hint, how I was like to relish the disposal, for I know she has too much Nobleness, to prejudice a Princess for your satisfaction that honours her as she ought: but since you have deceived her as well as me, if you please you may tender it, or take it ill if I entreat you to see me no more.  
Tiberius was struck with a deep astonishment at these last words, and at the inflexibility of the Princess, of which his hopes had promised him the victory, but dissembling his trouble as well as he was able: You treat me extremely ill, said he, in reducing my choice to two evils, the least of which is as cruel as death itself but if your resolves stand firm, to enforce my election, I had rather resign what the Empress has given me, than forfeit your sight for ever: You will do me a pleasure, replied the Princess, and whether you call it a present or a restitution, I shall receive it at your hands as a sovereign remedy for my repose; 'Tis possibly another's interest as well as yours, said Tiberius in choler, that thus carries you against your disposition to do me violence, but I obey you, continued he, (taking off the Scarf and throwing it upon the Tabe) because I know no Law to dispense with my repugnance, yet you may please to remember, that I am the only man interessed in this harsh usage, and I have right to complain to the Empress of the injustice is done me.  
At these words he flung out of the Chamber so transported with choler, as it scarce left him reason enough to guide his footsteps. Never did discourse please Marcellus better than this last, at which he was present, he could only have wished for the more entire satisfaction of his friend, that he had been ambushed in some secret place, to have discovered the confusion of Tiberius, and seen himself revenged for the tortures he had made him suffer; he could not conceal his joy from the Princess, and as soon as Tiberius was gone, he prepared to express it, when turning herself towards him, and preventing his words; Think not, said she, I have taken back my Scarf to please Coriolanus, for I could do no less in behalf of mine own repute, and your friend has not managed that credit so well which he presumed he had with me, that I could strain my cares to complaisance for his content. Ah! Madam, replied my Master's excellent friend, what a vast difference is there, (if I may adventure to say so) betwixt your words and thoughts, and how easily your own knowledge may save me the labour of representing the Innocence of poor Coriolanus; he has committed an oversight, which (if rightly examined) few men can boast they have not fallen into the same failing, and for it received a punishment which has reduced him to the extremes of his life. I left him in an estate which doubtless will plead pity enough to overthrow all the resentments your Passion can arm against him, but in such an estate as bids me fear that the assistance which my hopes promise from your goodness, will arrive too late for his recovery.  
Cleopatra, who truly loved my Master, grew tender at this discourse, which Marcellus understood from her aspect, yet desirous to dissemble it: Come I know your friend, said she, with a forced smile, cannot be so sick as you would make him; He is fallen so low (answered Marcellus, with a sadder gravity than his looks had yet expressed) as I fear his life is in the hands of a merciless danger: and though I know it is in your power to apply the remedy, yet I doubt it will not come time enough to heal the wounds you have given him.  
He brought forth these words with so serious an Emphasis, as the Princess convinced of the truth, and knowing by divers marks to what extremes my Master's passion was capable to carry him, she suffered his danger to soften her heart, and turning towards Marcellus with a gentle look, My quarrel to Coriolanus, said she, is of no such nature, to call his life in question, or provoke me to refuse him a remedy, if it may be found within my power, and applied with the safety of my honour.  
At these words Marcellus fell upon his knee before the Princess, and redoubling the force of his reasons, the length of which persuades me to leave them out, at last he vanquished her, and wrought so powerfully, as he disposed her to write him a Letter, which, if I mistake not, spoke in these terms.  
The Princess Cleopatra to Prince Coriolanus.  
MArcellus who has endeavoured to excuse you, will justify me to you, and witness there is more innocence on my side than yours, yet I do not cherish such implacable resentments against you, as not to desire the return of your health; make haste to be well then as soon as possible, and your recovery shall give me as much joy, as your impatience did displeasure.  
Marcellus having obtained this Letter for my Master, was desirous to take yet a greater strain for his satisfaction, and assayed by the most pressing arguments his reason could urge, to gain him the Scarf which the Princess had taken from Tiberius; but he found it impossible to prevail, as well upon the aversion that high spirit cherished to the grant of such favours, as the fear she had wisely entertained of giving cause of complaint to Tiberius, which might kindle a quarrel betwixt the two Princes.  
In the mean time it fell out that Marcellus had spoken truer of my Master's malady than he believed, for the torments that he infflicted upon himself that night, had enraged his Fever to such a height, as the next day it manifestly threatened his life, yet he persevered (notwithstanding the earnest entreaty of his friends) in a resolution to refuse all remedies, and the opinion he had of Cleopatra's inconstancy, had made so cruel an impression in his spirit, as he sought after nought but death, and certainly had soon found it, it Marcellus had not seasonably arrived with the remedies that were requisite for his cure; so soon as he approached his bed whence the other visitants were then with-drawn: Rise Coriolanus, said he, you must be no longer sick, after I have told the news I bring you; at these words of Marcellus, Coriolanus turned his head that way, and regarding him with a languishing look; Ah! Marcellus, said he, what pleasure do you take to sport with misery? If you call it sport (replied Marcellus, sitting down upon his bed) I believe you will not think the game unpleasant, and, before we part I hope to have better entertainment of your face than it now affords me; all you have to do is to get up as fast as you can, and go and ask Cleopatra's Pardon for the offence you committed, or rather to pay your thanks to her goodness that has so easily remitted an injury that merited a longer penance.  
My Master listened to this language in a suspense betwixt joy and diffidence, but Marcellus no longer willing to detain his happiness wrapped in uncertainty, after he had prepared his attention, began to relate what befell him with Cleopatra, and repeated word for word all the Discourse he had with her; My Master abandoned himself to a painful joy when he learned that Tiberius received not the favour from Cleopatra, but when the sequel told him of his unluckily adventure, with the rigorous treatment he received from the Princess, it seized his soul with a ravishment too deep to be put into words: but suddenly returning from these transports to converse with some distrustful thoughts that insinuated, there was more design than truth in Marcellus words, on purpose to reconcile him to the care of his own health, he entreated him with a serious look not to abuse his credulity, nor raise him with Romantic hopes to an estate from whence a relapse would threaten more danger than the former malady: What proofs would you ask, said Marcellus, to avouch this truth? I would have a confirmation, replied my Master, under Cleopatra's hand; You shall have it then, said Marcellus, and no longer willing to defer his contentment, he delivered him Cleopatra's Letter, at the sight of which, with the knowledge of the Character and the reading of the words, my Master had like to have lost his Senses, and by an excess of joy, which he was not able to contain, he stayed a long time motionless and mute, as if he had been dazzled with his happiness.  
When he came again to himself, he first stretched out his arms. and greedily seized upon Marcellus, elegantly expressing his resentments in the humble language of embraces, from these his joy succeeds to words, wherewith he confirmed it in a discourse so passionate, as it drew tears from Marcellus eyes, it would make my story tedious to repeat the whole Dialogue of kindness betwixt them. In fine, by the virtue of this delicious remedy his mind was perfectly cured, but his body was not so, and the Physicians that were called presently after, judged that the extremity of his joy had redoubled his fever; yet we were encouraged to hope the best, by my Master's ready disposition to suffer the Medicines were prescribed him; in effect he resigned himself up to their disposal that took care of his recovery, but his body could not take example by his mind, for his Malady visibly increasing, in a short time it menaced much danger, the Prince having now no farther cause to hate his life, did all that he was able to gain a recovery, and restore himself to a condition of visiting his Princess; but his will found little obedience in his body, for the violence of his grief, to which he had given himself up a willing prey, had contaminated all his blood, and his Fever grew at last to such a height, as the Physicians with a common consent, expressed more fear than hope of his recovery.  
All the Persons of quality in Rome interessed themselves in this Prince's disaster, the Emperor himself came often to see him, and of the Principal Countiers, there was not a man but Tiberius (who had the sting of his last affront still sticking in his memory) that did not render him a visit: Marcellus (who never stirred from his pillow, and did him all the offices could be hoped from a most affectionate brother) was excessively afflicted at it, and the Princess Cleopatra (what ever violence she did upon herself to keep her griefs at home) could not totally hide the displeasure she resented: this was first betrayed to my Master by a letter she sent him two days after the former, in which (after he had opened it with a trembling feeble hand) with much pain he read these words.  
The Princess Cleopatra to Prince Coriolanus.  
I Would not have hoped so little obedience from you, and I thought I had well enough expressed my desires of your care to engage yours upon the same score; if you have any design to please me, endeavour your recovery, 'tis the greatest proof I demand of your affection, and the most agreeable news I can receive for my own repose. These words had alone been capable to restore his health, if the clear contentment of his spirit could have advanced it; a thousand times did he kiss that agreeable command, and obeyed it with all the industry our wishes could ask; but the disease had taken too deep a root, and from thence force enough to go on in its course in spite of all the care we took to arrest it.  
The poor Prince desired nothing with so much ardour as the sight of Cleopatra, and the Princess made no scruple in that extremity, to avow before Marcellus and myself, the affection she bore him, professed an equal desire to see him, and waited for nothing but the means to do it with Decorum.  
She durst not adventure to make the visit by herself, and the Empress (whom she would have accompanied had she done him that favour) preserving some resentment against him, in behalf of Tiberius, was contented to understand his condition by the return of her messages, at last Marcellus advised her to go with the Princess Octavia, who had been once already with him, and he knew would not be sorry to meet an occasion of rendering that test of her amity to Coriolanus: the children of Antony respected Octavia as their Mother, and she them with such a tenderness as fell not short of a Parents Indulgence: and though the Princess Cleopatra lived at Court with the Empress, yet even by her injunction she daily visited Octavia, ever remembering to pay a submissive reverence to her person.  
Octavia was acquainted with my Master's passion. which she did not disapprove, and her Son Marcellus no sooner mentioned his desire of her tendering that office to his friend, but she readily undertook it, and the next visit Cleopatra made, she entreated her company to go see the Prince of Mauritania: The Princess, who knew she might go any way with her, as her Mother, without the least fear of blame, since the high reputation of her virtue, and the rank she held as the Sister of Caesar, and widow of Antony might authorise all the visits she made in her company, obeyed her without repugnance. Marcellus by a preintelligence, disposed my Master to expect this happiness for fear the surprisal of an immoderate joy should work the same effects it had formerly done, to the prejudice of his health, yet my Master had a hard task with all the effects he could make to contain himself, and he no sooner saw the Princess enter the Chamber, but the sight had like to have made a Rape upon his sense; Octavia came first to the bed's side, after some words full of sweetness and Majesty, which was as natural to her as beams to the Sun, protesting the displeasure she took at the continuance of his malady, she was contented her Son, who had feigned a pretence to speak with her, should lead her to the window, leaving the Princess alone with him by the bed's side, and the Maids of her Train at the other end of the Chamber; though Cleopatra had prepared herself to see him in that estate, yet she could not see him there, and hide her blushes, and she had much a do to make herself mistress of that scrupulous nicety that taught her to Criticise too severely upon that action: however she sat her down upon the Chair Octavia had quitted, while the Prince, whose confusion had robbed him of the strength and confidence to open his mouth, strive to express himself at the eyes, with regards though wholly languishing, yet full of fire; Cleopatra advancing her head towards his, that she might not be heard by those on the other side the Chamber; Coriolanus, said she, I have reason to complain of you, and if you truly loved me, you would cherish more care to improve the interest I take in your recovery; you were told of this by my letters, and I have vanquished some scruples, which I would not have combated upon a feeble consideration, to come and confirm it to you with my own mouth, yet I find you still in a condition that shows me no proofs of the power I have in you, The Prince, daunted as he was, took courage from these sweet words, and sending some looks before his language that spoke more passion than the former: You have reason, Madam, said he, to condemn the estate wherein you find me, since instead of seeing me in this unbecoming posture, so disproportioned to the respect I owe you, I should be prostrate at your feet, ask pardon for the offence I committed; this repugnant body to your commands, has suffered for its disobedience, nor has my Soul scaped with a milder punishment, but neither one nor the other would ever have been capable of expiating the crime, if your excellent nature had not assisted their impuissance. Speak no more, replied the Princess, (not willing he should strain his spirits with too long a discourse) speak no more of an error which I have remitted; indeed your easy belief engaged you to some precipitation, but you have suffered more for it than I should have doomed you to, and if I still retain any pique against you, 'tis because you struggle too faintly for your health, which is very dear to me, and which I recommend to your care; for my sake exile all thoughts that may afflict you, and believe it, I shall never be satisfied till your mind and body are both recovered: I am so confounded Madam, answered my Master, with the favours you heap upon me, receiving from your mouth the confirmation of your goodness, in a place so unworthy to receive you, and where I have so little cause to expect the grace you have done me, as I cannot regret the loss of that life which is now about to abandon me, but for fear it should fail me before— Stay, said the Princess, interrupting him, you must not now think of dying, while I hold your life at the same price with mine own, I will have you vanquish your malady, I say I will by the authority I have over you, and the intelligence I give you, that you cannot neglect your life, without endangering mine.  
The Princess put her hand before her face to cover a blush, which got up thither at the alarm of these words, nevertheless, to confirm them to Coriolanus by favours that yet she had not granted, she let the other fall upon his cheek, which the Prince taking in his feeble hand, carried to his mouth, and with all the strength was left him, pressed it with an incredible ravishment.  
The Princess who felt it extremely hot, and therefore feared the continuance of this passionate Discourse might do him harm, grew willing to withdraw, and after she had gently retired her hand; I leave you, saith she, rising from her seat, for fear of doing myself any injury in what I demand, remember to obey me, if you desire I should love you; at this last word more confused than before, she had not the confidence to behold him longer, but turning to Octavia and Marcellus, she told them a farther stay might do Coriolanus an injury, and so presently obliged them to quit the Chamber.  
I know not whether I may ascribe my Master's cure to that visit, or whether the disease was then come to a Crisis, whatever it was, the next morning his Fever was much abated, not many days after it wholly left him, and in a few others, he had gotten strength enough to quit his Chamber, visit Cleopatra, and render his thanks as he ought for the favours she had done him; I have doubtless given you this relation in too large a stamp, there being still so many great things that deserve a mention in my Master's story, as I ought to have passed by those with a slighter touch that were of less importance; but I stayed upon this discourse the rather, because I knew it would draw you Cleopatra's disposition more lively, than a recital of greater adventures, and by these petty marks I have given, you may easily judge that her spirit is lofty and imperious, but her nature generous and full of nobleness.  
In the mean time the Empress, by the complaints Tiberius had made of an unkindness in which herself appeared interessed, grew highly incensed at Cleopatra, and probably that act might have cost her her lodgings at Court, if Marcellus (who above the rest of mankind was dear unto the Emperor) had not employed all the credit he had with him in her favour.  
Caesar to oblige his Nephew, and serve the Princess whom he highly esteemed, would needs have the Empress turn that pretended affront into Raillery, and so the Princess escaped with enduring a petty reproof, and some sullen looks, that lasted but a while from the Empress, who is very dexterous, cunning, and complaisant in her compliance with the Emperor's humours, but she could not so easily disguise her resentments against my Master, and those of Tiberius, much more violent than hers, did then give a root to that hatred, which has since produced such grand effects, but as he was the greatest dissembler among men, the knowledge he had of my Master's courage, and Marcellus his credit, who had openly espoused his party, taught him to cloud the greatest part of it, and attend till fortune offered him an occasion, to let it break out at the best advantage.  
For a while he forbore the Princess, protesting he would never see her more, and the Empress herself who studied harder for the establishment: of his fortune, than the success of his love, laboured to confirm him in that resolution; but it could not long hold out against his passion, and the choler he conceived against Cleopatra being dissipated, or at least overpowered by a stronger passion, he returned to her more submissive than formerly, and flexed himself to her service with greater assiduity than ever: 'tis true he did a little change his fashion of life with her, and discovering by the last encounter that her spirit was too high and absolute to be easily managed, he resolved to seek his advantages no more by so haughty a carriage, and diligently endeavouring to bring himself in credit by an artificial humility, there was never any part of subtle and supple insinuation acted, that he did not personate before her.  
The Princess to whom besides these submissions, the greatness of his birth and the power of his Mother, strove to render him considerable, was constrained to suffer his research, and re-admit him with as smooth a brow, as she had done formerly; in the mean time, she managed both his and my Master's spirit so discreetly, and so judiciously swayed the authority she had over them, as the fear to displease her, daily enforced them to shut their eyes upon several passages, that else would soon have kindled a quarrel, that being the only bridle that often kept their hatred from coming to extremes, repressing their resentments with so absolute an Empire, as they neither durst make any show or noise: My Master had less cause than Tiberius, upon whom he had then a great advantage: but it was known to none but himself and Marcellus, for before the rest of the world, the Princess governed herself so prudently, as it would have posed the clearest eye to penetrate her intentions; then began Fortune to raise her stroms against my Master, which my relation must interweave with Marcellus' adventures; for there is so much connexion betwixt his and my Princes, as one of their lives cannot be faithfully recounted without reciting a part of the others.  
Marcellus, whose policy, first chained him to the service of Julia, grew insensibly fastened by inclinations; and indeed that Princess was armed with an ability strong enough to subdue the most disobedient spirits to Love's dominion; the disposition of Marcellus was sweet, ingenious, and susceptible of impressions, and he no sooner got the consent of his own heart to love Julia, but he began to find out such charms about her, as were not only capable to confirm his resolution, but impose a necessity of progress, in his first undertook design; he loved, but he loved Sincerely, and his affection insensibly increasing, grew at last to that height as never heart was deeper struck than his; my Master to whom that Princess' secrets were always naked, understood it with a marvellous satisfaction, as well for joy that this new passion had cleared his fears of the old, as desires to see the fortunes of his Friend established, by the conformity of his will with the Emperor's who had designed him his daughter, and daily observed the proofs he gave of his affections with unspeakable contentment; nor were they unwelcome to Julia, and that Princess who had been before hand with Marcellus in affection, could not now receive those unfeigned oblations of his vows, without a large increase of her own, yet in a while she dissembled them as well as she was able, and desirous to endear the purchase to Marcellus, with a little difficulty, she played the politic Tyrant, and made him suffer.  
Marcellus complained and sighed away some time for these feigned rigours of Julia, but at last she unmasked her sentiments, and after she had received some month's tribute of sufferings and services, she showed him her acknowledgement and affection at as full a magnitude as he could virtuously desire; nothing was refused him that might justly be demanded of Augustus' daughter, and her confessions were the freer, because she knew the Emperor not only approved them, but that she could not more dearly oblige him than in the person of his Nephew; he almost spent his whole day in her company, and his life wheeled away with as much delight as his wishes could fathom; for though some of the chiefest Romans, with divers King's Sons that were brought up at Rome were his Rivals, yet they all submitted to his Fortune, and paid so deep a respect both to him and the Emperor, as they durst not shock his intentions with the least appearance; the Senate and People, to whom as I have already told you Marcellus was the darling and delight, were tenderly concerned in his happiness, and joyfully hoped to see the Daughter, and Throne of their Emperor one day possessed by the person of the World that was dearest to them; their hopes were founded upon their likelihoods, and doubtless might arrive at their aim, there being but few persons under Heaven, whose fortunes would show envy so fair a mark as those of Marcellus, if Julia, with one of the rarest beauties, and the most vivacious and subtle wits, had not the most wavering and inconstant heart upon Earth; of this she has given the World so much experience, as while you resided there, you could not choose but meet it in many a Roman mouth; She began with a person, who of all the stock of mankind, was farthest from cause and consent to wrong Marcellus; I confess he is master of so many bewitching qualities, as might well produce the same effects upon a constant heart, and by this reason I might possibly excuse a part of Julia's first revoltings, but they have since been followed by so many others without ground or reason, as all that can be alleged in her defence, is too weak to justify her.  
My Master, as the dearest friend Marcellus had, was he, that had the easiest access to her of all the Court, and rendering her greater respects for Marcellus sake, than were due from him to the Daughter of Augustus, it obliged her to requite him with an esteem beyond all the other Princes that were educated in the Emperor's Court; he daily exchanged long Discourses with her, but talked of no other Subject but his friend, and because he was acquainted with most of his thoughts, they still furnished him with matter to entertain the Princess. The love she bore Marcellus, made her treat my Prince for a time in terms that were reasonable; but at last she tied her thoughts too fast to the consideration of his incomparable qualities, and by little and little from a particular esteem, she proceeded to good will, and from thence was insensibly conducted into love's territories: had not any other spirit but hers thus suffered itself to be taken, her whole life would have kept it a secret, and she might have borrowed reasons from the grandeur of her birth, the Emperor's Command and Marcellus his services, puissant enough to do violence upon herself, and shut it up in her breast for ever: but her soul was of another temper, and ever impatient of Constraint and Tyranny, nevertheless she had yet modesty enough to dissemble it, though not so covertly; but if she betrayed not her infidelity to a public notice, she could not so cozen the Advertancy of interessed persons. Marcellus was the first that percieved it, for my Master's regards were so fixed to Cleopatra, as he had much ado to allow the lightest reflection to any thing else; and finding Julia's behaviour much colder towards him than it was accustomed, he often demanded the cause, but the promptitude and artifice of her wit never failed in finding pretences to paint the truth; she was loath to break with him, knowing how highly it would displease Caesar, and what she was to expect from his anger, besides its possible her breast might still keep some sparks unquenched, that were of his kindling; but the impression of this new image had so altered her, as if she had not finished the ruin of all those thoughts that once held him dear, yet she took no delight to see him, and only tasted content in the company of Coriolanus.  
One evening Marcellus discoursing with her by her bed side, (a liberty which the higher powers had allowed him) and perceiving her thoughtful and melancholy; Madam, said he, has your goodness given me no right to the knowledge of those inquietudes that have lately disturbed you? have not I share enough in your pains and pleasures, to to be led unto their Fountains? I perceive you muse, I hear your sighs, and your face characters an unquiet mind; Is it just, my Divine Princess, if I have any title to your thoughts, I could be longer kept a stranger to them? and if any thing perplexes you, where will you find a comfort so readily, as in that person of the world, that does most participate of your Passion.  
The earnest solicitation of Marcellus awaked Julia from her dumps, and regarding him with an Airy something more affable; Do not you know, said she briskly, that we cannot always be of the same humour? and this alteration you remark in mine, may it not as well proceed from my present temperament, as any cause of affliction? I will believe what you will have me, replied Marcellus, but either all conjectures shoot very wide or else your temperament cannot so suddenly bring forth effects so contrary to your ordinary humour. Your belief is at liberty, said Julia, without so much as turning her face to Marcellus, and since you repose so little in me, you may seek for that in your own conjectures, which you cannot find in my Discourse.  
This cold Answer froze the very soul of poor Marcellus, and beholding the Princess with an eye that sent out part of his thoughts beforehand, Ah! Madam said he, what have I done? by which of my actions have I merited your anger? You have done nothing to me, replied the Princess, but at present I find you a little too pressing, and since you are melancholy as well as I, pray take it not ill if I change your company for a persons whose mirth may divert my sadness.  
She spoke these words just as she saw my Master enter the Chamber, where he had not trod many steps, when rising from Marcellus, with a face that had changed in a moment the Sense of Sadness into Gaiety, she advanced towards Coriolanus, and offering him her hand with a free kind of action, she led him to the other end of the Chamber, and there discoursed away the Evening with him, without so much as a single reflection upon the estate wherein she left the grieved Marcellus.  
That Prince was sensibly afflicted at her words, but cruelly galled with what he observed in the Sequel of her carriage, and though he was not yet poisoned with a suspicion of my Master, yet this unkind usage stung him to the heart, and distrusting his own strength to keep a Mask upon his grief, after he had stayed some time alone by the Princess bed side, he went out of the Chamber without engaging in any further discourse. After this, Julia played him divers tricks of the same nature, which showed Marcellus, and my Master himself, how to levelly their thoughts at the truth: yet the suspicion was nothing so strong on my Prince's side and whatever cause he had to think well of himself, he knew not how to imagine she would abandon such a person as Marcellus, for a man that loved her not, nor could he easily admit this belief, and it would long have been getting credit with him, if Julia, after she had a thousand times brought her thoughts into her actions, had not showed them naked in the following Discourse.  
One Evening my Master having wasted a part of the night in her Chamber with Agrippa, Maecenas, and divers other persons of both Sexes; after the Princess had bid goodnight to the company, and all were gone, Julia caused Coriolanus, who was got as far as the Antichamber, to be called back again, telling him she had forgot to acquaint him with an affair that deserved his notice. Coriolanus received this command with a due respect, and coming back into the Chamber, Julia, who was already retired to her bed's side, beckoned him thither, and caused him to sit down by her, which when he had obeyed, after she had darted some glances at my Master, capable to inflame the most frozen heart; I know very well, said she, I do now offer you violence, and that all the moments are tedious to you, that you waste in my company, when the Princess Cleopatra is not there; I acknowledge replied my Master, that my heart lies at that Princess feet, where the power of love has placed and fastened it, yet that entire prepossession of my soul cannot shut up my eyes upon what I owe to the Princess Julia, and the most pressing and passionate thoughts shall suspend their violence, while I have the honour to be near her person; This is a flattery, answered Julia, that I cannot pardon, and I only desire you would answer my question without Artifice; Does Report speak truth, that you are so enslaved to passion for Cleopatra, as it has struck you blind to all other objects and considerations, and Centred your thoughts in her so strongly, as nothing else has power to remove them? Whoever spread that rumour, said Coriolanus, spoke my thoughts as clearly as if he had been in my breast to Copy them, for it is most certain, the world has not a person so free that is more absolutely his own, than I am the Princess Cleopatra's.  
I expected this confession from you, replied Julia, since it is but the same you have publicly avowed, and hitherto you have done it with reason, but, as I demand a little better share in your secrets than another, so I expect you should tell me truly: whether you be so strongly chained to Cleopatra, as no consideration can untie or divert you: I know well your condition is glorious in serving so fair a Princess, but should the will of the Gods offer you a right to greater advantages, would you so dote upon your former passion as not to open your eyes upon a fairer of Fortune.  
I cannot tell how to frame belief, replied Coriolanus, that there can be a nobler Fortune found, than what results from the glory of serving Cleopatra; and could others (by the help of a greater blindness than mine▪ acknowledge such a possibility, I should never be drawn to own their thoughts, nor hatch one single desire in my whole life for a more happy condition, than to pass it entirely at the feet of my adorable Princess. Imagine, said Julia, you were beloved by a Princess equal in beauty to Cleopatra, and infinitely before her in all things else, whose high birth might give her precedency of the whole Sex, and restore you to the same estate, which your Parents lost, or perhaps raise you to another more sublime, would you despise her for Cleopatra? I should have little reason, answered my Master, to misprise such a person as you have represented, nor could my insensibility or that favour be strained to a contempt; but might she tempt me yet with fairer offers, they could never make me halt in my fidelity to my Cleopatra: What if Julia, added the Princess, (vanquishing the shame that opposed the liberty of her language) What if Julia herself should love you, would you disdain her for Cleopatra?  
These words at the same time almost wrought the same effect upon the Prince and Princess, and if the confusion she took from her own words, made Julia bend her looks downwards, Coriolanus was so abashed at a discourse, which indeed he had little reason to expect from such a person as Julia, as it was long before he durst raise his to her face. In fine, that he might not increase his confusion by his silence: Madam, said he, there is no need of an answer to his Discourse, no necessity of declaring my sentiments, in a reply to Raillery; But admit, said Julia, what you call Raillery, should prove Reality, how would you take it? and what entertainment would your breast give to Caesar's Daughter, had she a mind to banish Antony's from thence?  
Coriolanus seeing himself pressed in that manner, was resolved rather to take advice of his Conscience and Virtue, than lean to a complacence which he could not approve, and after he had taken some moments to contrive a fit answer: Madam, said he at last, though I have little reason to explain myself, or exchange my serious thoughts for mockery, yet I must tell you since you have commanded me, that should that Fortune befall me you mentioned, I were the most unfortunate of all men; since I am forbidden to enjoy it, not only by the fidelity. I owe Cleopatra, but the amity I preserve for Marcellus, who only merits, the entire affection of the Princess Julia, and from whom I would not take it, though it were offered me, in the pompous dress of all the grandeur and felicity the Gods can bestow.  
Thus did my Master unlock his thoughts which touched Julia so sensibly, as it was long before she could recover her speech, but at last her anger forced a passage for words, and, regarding my Mr. with a scornful air: You construed my Discourse aright, said she, when you apprehended it raillery, it was so Coriolanus, and believe it, the affections of Julia shall never oblige you, to crack your amity to Marcellus, nor your Love to Cleopatra. I was only desirous to try the temper of your heart, and now I have seen how well it guards the fidelity you owe your friend and Mistress, it shall heighten my esteem of your merits.  
She brought forth these words with a constraint that my Master easily observed, and though she strove to hide it, by entering a discourse upon other subjects, yet she followed it in so much disorder and confusion, as perceiving it would ask some time to undistemper her reason, she bad Coriolanus good night.  
My Master went away better instructed than he desired in Julia's inclinations, and though by her last words, which despite had uttered, she seemed to retract what before she had too easily offered, yet he was not so ignorant as not to discover the truth: he since did me the honour to tell me, that he never resented any thing in his life with so much anxiety, sadly reflecting upon his own impuissance to satisfy the Princess desires, but much more upon Marcellus interests, whom he now perceived so lightly forsaken, and foresaw how cruelly he was used by Julia's lenity; nevertheless he was unwilling to acquaint his friend with this unwelcome news, and there resolved to stay till Julia's humour should change, or Marcellus learn it from some other mouth; nor would his discretion give him leave to let Cleopatra know of it, as well to conceal the shame of Caesar's Daughter and his friend's Mistress, as to forbear a Discourse that might betray the least appearance of vanity.  
In the mean time he carefully fled all occasions of meeting Julia alone, and that Princess perceived it with a despite that might well have banished him her breast, had her power been proportioned to her anger; but she had force enough to hide her flames for a time, and treat my Master with a more reserved carriage than was usual: however he abated her no respect, but still paid her his Civilities in as specious a manner as her quality could challenge, only he was careful to escape both her entertainment and her sight, when the place was void of witness.  
Julia for a time feigned herself very well satisfied, and meeting him one day in a Gallery that belonged to Livia's Lodgings, notwithstanding he was accompanied with two or three of his friends Coriolanus, said she, passing by him, there is seldom▪ safety in presumption, you lately passed a serious construction upon what was meant in Jest, pray disabuse yourself, and be not so lightly seduced by an erroneous opinion: My Master would have replied, had she given him time, but she passed by him so swiftly, as he had not the leisure to shape an answer; and he was a little troubled at the manner of these words though he found some cause of satisfaction in them,  
Thus Julia persevered in her behaviour for some days, still treating my Master with a cold indifference, and her Spirit wanting resolution to endure too much violence, herinclinations got the victory of her anger, and she began to speak at the eyes in such accents, as soon gave Coriolanus intelligence her resentments were dissipated; but as before he stopped his ears at her words, so now he shut his eyes at her glances, and composed all his actions with so much Caution towards her, as if her spirit were not hardy beyond Example, she could never have had the confidence to bring her affection again into the Scene; She repented of all she had said to revoke the first Declaration, and, desirous to repair that breach, meeting him one day at Court, she drew him to a window, and when respect had drawn those that stood near to a greater distance, advancing her head towards him in a languishing manner, speaking so low as none could over hear her. Coriolanus, said she, think it no more a mockery when you are told that Julia loves you, for believe it, 'tis a perfect truth.  
My Master was surprised at these words, yet not so deeply, as to be unfurnished of a ready answer; Madam, said he, I am now grown so well acquainted with your intentions, as I cannot be any more mistaken, and since this sport does divert you, I should be loath to oppose the pleasure you take in pursuing it.  
Julia was sorry she had lent my Master weapons to defend himself against her, and having now no time to explain herself further, she only tried to persuade him with a fiery blush, that her words were serious, and that she had displayed her naked thoughts, but with too much truth; However the Prince concludes to personate an ignorance, arms her own discourse against herself, and still feigns an interpretation of her words and actions as the effects of Raillery; in the mean time, (as it became him, as well in reference to her birth, as Marcellus affection) he still treated her with his usual deferrence, and because in that point he deemed it not fit to disoblige her, he could not so cunningly evade her company, but she oft engaged him in long discourses, and then used so little skill in concealing her affection, as few persons frequented their company that had not already discovered it.  
Marcellus as the most interessed, took the impression deeper than all the rest, and receiving daily symptoms from Julia's deportment, that no longer permitted him to doubt her inconstancy; the blindness of his passion made him stumble upon a Jealousy, that Julia not only loved Coriolanus, but was beloved again by him; this belief had no sooner got credit with him, but it produced effects that had like to have dragged him to his Tomb, and when he called to mind those rare proofs he had given Coriolanus of his amity, he could not reflect upon the ingratitude (of which his thoughts had now pronounced him guilty) without falling into a mortal Agony: his cruel jealousy for some days made him fly the sight of that unfaithful friend, and seek out solitude in the most untrodden places, discoursing his woes to himself, in the saddest fashion that grief could invent.  
My Master, who could never endure to be long out of his sight, sought him on all sides, and understanding one day that he was retired alone, into those Allies of the Palace Garden that verge upon the Tiber, he followed him thither without a companion, and at last found him laid upon one of the seats of an Arbour, in the most unfrequented part of the Garden: At my Master's approach, he suddenly started up and discovered such a wild troubled look, as my Prince no longer able to suffer him in that condition: Marcellus, said he, what strange change is this? what sadness is it that sits thus lowering on your brow? and why do you fly from the person of the world that loves you dearest? At these words Marcellus only nodded his head twice without returning an answer, keeping his eyes still fixed upon the earth in so sad a posture, as it put my Master into a grand confusion; Coriolanus deeply touched at his behaviour, took him in his arms and earnestly pressed him no longer to hide the cause of his affliction; but Marcellus after he had stayed a while in his first posture, gave a sudden leap out of his arms, and when he was gotten some five or six paces from him, he drew his Sword, and presenting the pommel to my Master; Coriolanus, said he, since thou art proved the most disloyal friend that ever infected the world, and hast so cruelly belied my opinion of thy virtue, here finish thy Crime by my Death, and pierce the heart of thy unfortunate friend, that so unluckily trusted thy dissembled amity; thou hast done that already that may clear all thy scruples of consenting to this, and believe it, this last piece of cruelty, will merit a gentler censure than the former. Marcellus spoke in this manner, and my Master (however his discourse and action surprised him) yet recovered himself so readily, as his face scarce confessed the least astonishment, and regarding Marcellus with a cold and composed look; Since I am that base and faithless friend, said he, that has so perfidiously betrayed your Confidence and Amity, why do you offer me the wrong end of your Sword, and not rather sheathe it in my breast? 'Tis the heart of a Traitor that ought to feel the point, and not of a deceived and guiltless Friend.  
While the Prince of Mauritania spoke this, he held his arms a cross upon his breast, and beheld Marcellus with a mind so assured, as it would have been easy for a person less dimmed with passion to have read in his looks the contents of his Innocence: but Marcellus distracted with cruel jealousy, could not be so soon disabused, yet he grew so tender at the Discourse and Countenance of his friend, as instead of pursuing his passionate obstinacy, he set some tears (the marks of weakness) at liberty, which presently over-flowed his visage, and letting himself fall upon one of the Seats behind him: Ah! Coriolanus, cried he, was I to expect my ruin of you? did I not offer fairly to our friendship in quitting Cleopatra, without releasing Julia too? I had never bend my aims that way, but to abandon that to you, which I loved above myself, my inclinations have since voted my design to please you, and the Gods, to reward my good intentions, have given an afterbirth of sweetness in that affection, where my hopes looked no farther than a toil for your repose; and when by the help of time, and my service, I had gained some interest in the heart of that inconstant Princess, you have carried her from me, with a cruelty that suits not with yourself, and reduced me (with Cleopatra and Julia) to render up my life, which must now become a sudden sacrifice to despair.  
Marcellus had enlarged himself upon this subject, if his sighs had not cut off the passage of his words, and my Master who had not heard him all this time without letting in a grief to his Soul little short of his, after he had wiped away some tears, which he had no power to bridle; Marcellus, said he, the estate you are in, will scarce give me leave to upbraid you, with the injury you do me, and the injust opinion which has prepossessed you, may speak your excuse for the outrage you have offered me: but I am comforted in this, that every thing pleads my justification: admit I could grow faint in my friendship to Marcellus, yet still I love Cleopatra too well to change her for Julia; and say my heart could draw off from Cleopatra, yet my Marcellus is too powerful there, for me to affront his pretences; and now you force me to avow, what respect and discretion devoted to silence, if there be some levity in Julia's spirit, the Gods can witness, that in stead of indulging it, I have still carefully rendered what amity required, even when civility and good manners forbade it: however I perceive, my dear Marcellus, in two things I am extremely infortunate; first, that your friendship was not strong enough to defend me from the cruelty and injustice of your suspicion: and then that I wanted occasion to evidence mine in such clear proofs as yours was stamped in, for in quenching for my sake, the affection that Cleopatra kindled, you inflicted rigour upon yourself to strangle the passion, but in flying the sight of Julia for the love of you, I do no more than quit a person to whom (bating your interests) I scarce carry a single good will; would to Heavens (could I do it without betraying my fidelity to Cleopatra) that I had now as much affection for the Daughter of Augustus as you had for Antony's, I would find out a better way than I can now make use of in quitting a person that I do not love, to witness my amity not inferior to yours; all that I can now do for your quiet, and my devoir, is to abandon not the love, (for that would be impossible to me, and unprofitable to you) but the sight of Cleopatra, and since I cannot be near her without hurting you, to remove myself beyond the reach of Julia's eye, I am content to leave that Princess whose absence will not be a milder misery than what you offered.  
While my Master spoke in this manner, though Marcellus could not be cured of the grief that tormented him, yet he felt some ease by the dissipation of his jealousy, and reflecting at the same time upon the free and faithful disposition of his friend, the cold composure of his late actions to Julia, much short of the wont deferrence he usually paid her, and the strong passion he kept for Cleopatra, which daily broke into clearer proofs, he entertained a belief he might be innocent, and suffering himself by these appearances, with the help of that affection he bore him, to be insensibly persuaded, he repented his suspicion, and throwing his arms about his neck, with a passionate and tender action: Pardon, dear Brother, said he, forgive the offence you have received from a spirit discomposed with its own misfortune, and reduced by despair, to interpret all things in the worst sense: indeed I ought to have understood you better, but you see that with the knowledge of my friends I have lost mine own, and as my condition is now stated, I am scarce Master of a reasonable motion: I doubt not but your friendship is able to give proofs of a greater difficulty, but I will never consent to accept those you offer, and will rather suffer all things than condescend, that you should absent yourself from Cleopatra, because you fly Julia; no, let the Gods keep my repose, if nothing will redeem it but yours, and let me rather be an eternal mark of Julia's disdain, than recover her affection by your displeasure.  
I shall never be displeased, replied the son of Juba, by suffering any thing for my friend, nor will my misery be so great as your imagination shapes it, since in leaving Cleopatra, I shall travel at the same time for your happiness and mine own glory; besides, 'tis not fit that a Prince descended from so long a succession of Kings, should waste the beauty of his age at Rome, in the employment of simple Citizens; and since of all, I should have heired from my Ancestors, there is nothing left me but a Sword, 'tis but fit it should show me the way to overtake that departed glory, and those dignities that once dwelled in our family: I know well, that I ought not to hope a recovery by force, of those Crowns that the Roman Arms have ravished from us, they are possessed by a puissance that others are too feeble to encounter, and by a puissance more to me by Obligation than Grandeur: yet I may have the hap to oblige great Caesar with my services to make good the intentions of his Predecessor, and by lavishing my blood and life for his Interests, possibly merit those Crowns from his bounty that Fortune took away before Nature showed me to the World: In the mean time the Princess Julia, whose spirit indeed is a little wavering, will lose that impression in my absence, which she received for my misfortune as well as yours, and your presence assisted by her own reason, and the force of her Judgement which will ripen with her age, no doubt will scatter those young Ideas, which are yet scarce grown to a perfect form, and may therefore be easily chased away by your affection, and those grand qualities the Gods have put into your Person.  
To these words the Prince added divers others to the same purpose, which Marcellus having peaceably heard; For that which touches me, said he, I will never agree you should forsake a place to which you are tied by so just and so noble a passion; to the other that regards your glory and the re-establishment of your Dignity; give me leave to join Interest, with you, and for yours; believe it, I will never stick to hazard my life, nor refuse to pay down my blood to the last drop, if the total expense of it may be fruiful to your repose or glory.  
Doubtless the two Princes had enlarged their Dialogue, if they had not spied a great troop of Ladies enter the Alley, which presently they knew to be the Princess Octavia, Cleopatra, Emilia, Sulpitia, and divers others of the greatest among the Romans: the Ladies no sooner drew near the Arbour, but they saw the two Princes come out to meet them, and after the Princess Octavia had chid their sullen and melancholy humour that misled them to the search of solitude, she asked if they had any mind to increase the company. There were but few men in it, and those that were, respectively resigned their places to the two Princes. Marcellus, to oblige his friend, entertained the Princess Octavia his Mother, and Coriolanus led Cleopatra, the whole company walked in couples through the several Alleys, still keeping such a distance as lent them liberty to exchange their thoughts without any fear of over-hearers; Cleopatra eyeing an unusual trouble, and an extraordinary Emotion in the aspect of the African Prince: How is it Coriolanus, said she, that I find so sad an inquietude upon your brow? has Fortune hatched you any fresh displeasure? If the desire does not disoblige you, I would willingly know the cause of your trouble: 'Tis too hard a task Madam, replied the Prince, for my Face not to tell tales of my Sorrow, too difficult for him to personate content that is going to the rack of a cruel affection: Madam, my fate enjoins me to leave you, which is the same to say, I must be torn from myself, and who can carry such a torture within him, and not betray some exterior symptoms? Madam, it is my shame that I have lived so long in your service unbusied with glory or ambition, and since I had the daring to raise my eyes to you, 'tis fit I should think of other employments, to render myself worthy of the honour to serve you; to be barely the Son of a King, can assert no sufficient merit, and if Fortune rob me of the dignity, 'tis required of my virtue to recover it; for to live in the condition of a private man at Rome, and yet love Cleopatra, are things incompatible.  
I do not wholly oppose your design, replied the Princess, to pursue that path of glory to your establishment which you have already begun to tread so hopefully; and though your presence be as dear to me as you ought to desire, yet I can resolve to lose it for a time, in hope to see your virtue remount the Throne of your Ancestors; not that the loss of your Crowns can render your person less considerable than if they impaled your brow; that blind Deity has handled us as rudely as you, and humbled our Family too low to leave us any cause of misprizing those Princes that she has plundered; but since nothing can look big enough to daunt your Courage, and that inspires you to trace the steps of your Predecessors; the knowledge I have that you are born to great undertake, shall vanquish that repugnance, which indeed dissuades my consent to this separation; and if the Destinies do not oppose you, you ought to expect all from your valour; but Coriolanus, though this reason be strong enough to take you from us, you must confess it is not the cause that drives you away, and that some other consideration precipitates your departure.  
The respect which I have always chained to your will, answered the Prince, does not permit me to disguise the truth, and though discretion and Modesty dispute against it, they are too weak to confute my obedience. It is true, Madam, since you are pleased I should avow it, I do owe a little voyage to my friends repose, and being infortunate enough to injure him, I am going for a time to fly those occasions, and seek others, that may render me worthy to be owned by you: I apprehend enough, added the Princess with a smile, and I think I shall not make you blush, when I tell you, you are loved by Julia. I cannot believe it love, modestly answered the Prince, but rather the malice of mine and Marcellus' fortune, that was willing to conduct the addresses of that wavering spirit, while she sought occasions of inconstancy, rather to me than any other: I suspected it before, replied the Princess, by divers remarkable conjectures, but was loath to let you know so much, for fear of disturbing the satisfaction you receive in the affection and research of so fair a Princess: Indeed it is so great, coldly answered Coriolanus, as I am too weak to support the weight of it, and for that reason will fly as far as the Earth has limits, if it be otherwise impossible to defend myself from it.  
You are cruel Coriolanus, replied the Princess with a graceful and Majestic action, and if you thus contemptuously treat fair Ladies, and such as are of Julia's lofty quality, what may those hope from you, to whom Nature and Fortune have been penurious? She that I adore, replied my Prince, has received of Nature all that she was capable of giving, nor can Fortune subtract any thing from that, which still keeps her placed in the first rank of mortals.  
I am well pleased, said the fair Princess, that your blindness has betrayed you to this opinion, and though I am not the same you speak me, I am very willing to appear so in your Eyes and Judgement.  
She pronounced these words with an Air so sweet, and a fashion so obliging, as the Prince was lost in a delightful ravishment, and pressing her hand which he held with an action full of ardour and transport: Oh amity! said he, Oh honour! What enemies are you grown to my repose? How sweetly might I pass my entire life at the feet of my adorable Princess if you would consent to it.  
He had said more, and their Discourse had lasted longer, if the arrival of the two young Princes, Alexander and Ptolomee had not interrupted it, who, after they had saluted the rest of the company, they approached the Princess their Sister, and Coriolanus, whom they loved exceedingly; divers noble Romans, which came thither in their company, also mingled themselves in the Troop, and the walk continued and ended, without offering my Master an occasion of reviving his discourse with Cleopatra.  
The next day there befell him an accident, that gave a report loud enough through Rome, to arrive at your ears, when you resided there, which as it hastened his voyage some days sooner than he intended, so it gave him the means to undertake it with more glory than he expected. There was then at Rome a Mathematician called Trafillus, who by his sublime skill in Judicial Astrology, had acquired a Reputation that highly advanced his credit, and made his acquaintance be courted by the principal Romans. Alas, cried Tyridates, interrupting Emilius, that name is but too well known unto me, and I have hitherto found his prediction of my Fortune so credited by a succession of accidents, and have now so little reason to expect an end unsuitable to the former events as it must ever have a place in my memory. This Trasillus, replied Emilius, whose Science you experimented, had a particular access to Tiberius, whose thoughts, (eternally tied to his Love and Ambition) made him ransack this man's knowledge for a flattery of his future hopes.  
That day I spoke of, he being in the Palace Gallery, where the noblest Romans usually walked, attending the Emperors rising, my Master and Tiberius met there together, followed by a throng of the most considerable persons in the Empire: though their mutual Jealousy had extinguished all the sparks of friendship, which might otherwise have been kindled betwixt them, especially in the malicious spirit of Tiberius: their Enmity was not yet come to a Declaration, and if the respect, which my Prince carried in Livia, kept a part of his under hatches, Tiberius, who is a perfect Master in the Art of Dissimulation, concealed his hatred for other considerations, often spoke to Coriolanns, and treated him with as affable looks as his cunning could put on; but at that encounter, approaching to him; Come, said he, shall we know our Destinies, from the mouth of Trasillus? Then beckoning the Artist to come nearer, and presenting my Prince unto him; What think you Trasillus, said he, of the Prince of Mauritania's Fortune and mine? shall our inclinations thrive in the design they are levelled at? Trasillus had often seen my Prince, knew his Age, the Constellation that ruled at his Nativity, and had consulted all other circumstances from whence he usually raised his conjectures, but he had studied Tiberius with more circumspection, and often told him many things that concerned his Destiny, to my Master he had never spoken, having received but little encouragement from his curiosity, but then after he had spent some time in perusing the two Princes; If my Science deceives me not, said he, you shall both be great, and both satisfied, the one in his Love, and the other in his Ambition; and because you desire not a more particular knowledge, I will assure you upon my life, that one of you shall one day be possessor of the Person you both love, and the other shall see himself seated on the tallest Throne in the Universe.  
This Discourse of Trasillus, to whose presages the conformity of Events had acquired him a great deal of credit, was followed by a loud acclamation from the whole company, and the two Princes, to whom it was addressed, stood and gazed a while upon each other without uttering a word, at last my Master, after he had seriously balanced Trasillus words; For the enjoyment of what I love, said he, I should easily quit the Empire of the world, and on condition she may be mine, I shall bare no grudge to my concurrents Fortune: This language was amorous and modest, but the reply of Tiberius was not so, and though he had power enough upon himself to be carried away with the Tide of a vain presumption: I pretend, said he, to the possession of Cleopatra, nor do I renounce my claim to the Empire, since the World has not another man, that is born with a better Title to both: This Discourse lighted up an indignation in my Master's spirit, as well for his own interest, which received an open affront in what referred to Cleopatra, as Marcellus right, who by the universal vote of the Romans, the intention of Caesar, and the suffering of Equity itself, might pretend with more justice to the Imperial Diadem than Tiberius, and by all these was placed before him; besides, he could never study the Science of dissembling, though then for divers considerations, he struggled with himself to confine a part of his resentments, and darting a disdainful look at Tiberius; I know not, said he, to what you may be born, but I hope that neither Cleopatra nor the Empire shall be any part of your portion: and who shall dispute it, replied Tiberius, fired with rage, can juster pretences, and better supported than mine, be shown by a despoiled African? for the Empire, answered my Prince, Rome has enough more worthy than thyself to command it, and for Cleopatra, that African will dispute her with thee, who wholly despoiled as he is, is yet the Son of a puissant King, and not of a paltry Citizen, as thou art, and from whom Fortune has taken nothing that could make him lose those advantages he had of thee both in Birth and Virtue.  
At these words they both laid hands upon the guards of their Swords; and though the respect that was due to the place might have restrained them to more moderation, yet that consideration had not then been capable to arrest their hands, if the whole company had not suddenly thrown themselves betwixt them, and so cut off a farther passage to their fury.  
The bruit of this divided the whole Court in two factions, and if the authority of the Empress his Mother, added to the large alliances he had in Rome, gained Tiberius a puissant party, the credit of Marcellus, and the friends which his virtue had acquired, made my Master's full as formidable; which may seem strange, if the glorious rank and garb be considered, which Tiberius did then, and doth still appear in: yet 'tis true, my Prince as much stranger and despoiled as he was, saw himself in a condition to hold up his head against the Son of Livia, the Drusi, Sulpitii, Metelli, with divers other families that ranged themselves on Tiberius' party, and with Marcellus, the generous Agrippa, the children of Antony, the Fabii, Cato's, with all that were brave and honest among the Romans, had their Swords ready to strike in Coriolanus quarrel. Yet this number of divided friends served for no more than to make known the Competitors Credit: for the same day the Emperor, being advertised of the quarrel, and having learned the truth from the mouth of Agrippa and Maecenas, one of which was my Masters declared friend, and the other had high thoughts of his virtue, he sent them to try if he could make them friends.  
This favour was not ordinary, but besides that, he was willing to do honour to the Son of his Wife, and a Prince of the birth and virtue of Coriolanus, he deemed his authority requisite to hinder the animosity of two such important men from proceeding to extremities; indeed the solicitations of Livia, (who made the boldness of Coriolanus, and the little respect he expressed to the Wife of Caesar, sound high in his ears) might have drawn his judgement away in Tiberius' behalf, if, besides the credit of Marcellus and Agrippa, who had much power with Augustus, the carriage of Coriolanus, that seemed to second the Emperor's intentions in repressing boldness, and condemning his saucy pretences to the Empire, had commended his cause to Augustus, and disposed him to treat them with an impartial equality  
They both presented themselves before him each with a proud train at his heels; and the Emperor, after he had heard them a part, sharply reproved Tiberius for the knowledge he had given of his ambitious aspire to the Empire, and my Prince, for the contemptuous misprisal of his birth, whose Mother himself had taken to his bed, he commanded them to embrace each other.  
My Master gracefully disposed himself to obey him; but before they interchanged that Ceremony, bravely addressing to Caesar, with a boldness full of Majesty, Sir, said he, I accept your command with a due respect, and to witness my resignation to your Majesty's will, I will propose a means (if it may be allowed) to cut up the root of any further quarrel betwixt Tiberius and myself: we both love Cleopatra, and so long as our competition lives, we shall find a task too difficult to keep life in our amity: If justice doth appoint that Princess, as a treasure to reward the services of one of us ' decree it, my Lord, that by those she may only be disputed, and not by indirect courses, to which it would be injurious to stake such a prize as Cleopatra; I am going, my Lord, as I did at my first acquaintance with the Camp, to carry my Life and my Sword into the Roman Army, and if it may please grand Caesar to give me an employment, wherein I may signalise myself for the glory of his Empire, I may possibly make it known, that though I am born an African Prince, I have neither less fidelity nor valour than the Native Romans. Let Tiberius do the same, and since to the interest of his Love, he may link the service of his Country, let him Court some dangers for occasions to merit Cleopatra: suffer not your favour, great Caesar, to be partially swayed, but let him have the glorious prize that shows the most valour for it; I am willing to resign her, with my life to boot, if in this Warlike decision Tiberius carries the advantage, and I hope from your justice, that what Fortune has already given, shall not be accounted in the purchase of a Jewel, which he only ought to buy with his blood and services.  
My Master had scarce ended these words, when Tiberius, with as fierce a confidence in his looks as Coriolanus could show, thus pursued his request; I gladly consent, said he, to the proposition Coriolanus has made, and if it pleases the Emperor, that our valour shall only try our Titles to Cleopatra, I shall that way advance my claim by fairer pretences than ever; I will go as well as he into the Armies that Combat for the Empire, and if the Emperor judges me worthy of a Command, I hope my behaviour in his service shall render it apparent, that I want no courage to merit such a recompense as Cleopatra.  
The Discourse of these two young Princes, which had contracted the attention of all the assistants, marvellously pleased Augustus, and at the same moment he openly protested his approbation of their brave design, and promised by his consent, that Cleopatra should never be given but to him of the two, that in Rome's service could show best proofs of their Military virtue.  
My Master received this Declaration of the Emperors with an access of joy, and Tiberius, who really is very courageous, expressed it as great a satisfaction.  
From that very day the Emperor grew studious to find out employments for them both, and by good fortune an occasion offered itself as favourably as they both could wish.  
Terentius Varro, and Tilus Corisius, with a puissant Army made War against the Austrians and Cantabrians who were risen in Rebellion against the Empire in prodigious numbers. But the Soldiers, no longer able to endure the insupportable humour of Varro, the Emperor was constrained to call him home, and Corisius made incapable by his personal defects of the sole Command of that War, the Emperor was obliged to send a Captain in Varro's place, who till then by means of Corisius infirmities, had sustained the whole weight of Care in the conduct of that Expedition.  
On the other side, War being kindled in Pannonia and Dalmatia, and the Captain that Commanded the Roman Army having been killed in an encounter: the Legions had sent to demand a new General of Caesar, which yet he had not nominated.  
These two employments, after the method of some deliberation, were given to the two Rival Princes with hopes of success that were yet equally divided betwixt them.  
My Master had Commission to march in Varro's place against the Asturians and Cantabrians, and Tiberius, who indeed, though very young, had already given many signals of his gallantry, was designed to command the Army in Pannonia.  
These two Princes, highly satisfied with their employments, equally prepared for their departure, and vanquished by the help of their mutual Emuliation the grief they took to part with Cleopatra.  
Marcellus, boiling as well as they with a desire of glory, took example by them to demand a military employment; but the Emperor told him it was his absolute will he should stay near his Person, yet flattered him with the hope of an important expedition which he had in his thoughts, and my Masters earnest entreaty that he would stay a while with Julia, and endeavour to recover her sickened flames, wrought upon him so successfully, as at last he was content that Rome should yet be his residence.  
I need not speak of the preparations these two young Generals made of their voyage, nor trouble you with Julia's discontent for my Master's separation, who in every place that he met her, and when he took his leave, still evaded particular Discourses with a grand Circumspection; and the hast I make to pass to the Narrative of weightier affairs, only permits me to tell you, that the day of their departure being arrived, after they had received the Emperor's Orders, the two Princes took leave of Cleopatra apart, I know not what language was exchanged betwixt her and Tiberius, but my Masters showed the marks of a most ardent passion, and Cleopatra's of an affection, which gave Coriolanus cause enough to be contented.  
It is not Madam, said he, after some preceding Discourses, it is not your affection that calls my courage to this dispute with Tiberius, that keeps to a greater height of value for either to aspire at, at the charge of all our blood; nor can it be bought but with such services as are peculiarly paid to yourself, and not those that are laid out for the Empire's Interests; no, 'tis the favour of Augustus, that by glorious actions I must pluck from Tiberius, if it be possible, and since your fortune has submitted you in such a sort to his power, as after purchase of your consent, my hopes must still wait upon his to complete my happiness; give me leave, if you please, by lavishing my life for his interests, to oblige him to consider my services as well as Livia's solicitations: yes, Coriolanus, replied the Princess, you have my consent, and to confirm you, that you have it, know, you need not dispute my affection with your Rival in the rough argument of arms; be assured the advantage shall ever stay on your side, and though fortune should crown the Crest of Tiberius with the Palmy wreaths of most glorious victories, she shall never have a power to give him any part of my inclinations; you have already too great a share in them to leave him the spark of any hope alive, and I cannot now assume the liberty of expressing that to you with any decorum, which I did not fix in my breast before I had weighed it.  
I will trace their amorous Dialogue no further, for fear the length of it should disoblige your patience; at last, after he had breathed a thousand vows at her feet of an eternal fidelity, and received a confirmation from her own mouth of those dear hopes she had given him▪ my Prince received her adieu with a consolation that helped to sweeten the regret of his absence, and about an hour after mounted on horseback, with a great number of friends, who brought him many days journeys on the way, but at last having parted from those that went not the Expedition, we marched with the rest through Gallia Narbonensis, and those other Provinces that lay in our way to Austria and Cantabria.   

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA: OR, Love's Masterpiece. PART II.  
LIB. III.  
ARGUMENT.  
The gallant Acts, and grand Victories of Coriolanus in the Austrian War. Tiberius luckily finishes that in Dalmatia, returns before his Rivals, and by Livia 's means gains the Emperor to a partial Arbitration. The news of this hastily calls home Coriolanus. His haughty language to Caesar procures his Banishment. The fantastic vicissitudes of Julia 's kindness and inconstancy to Marcellus. Coriolanus challenges Tiberius in the Temple, and the next day runs him through in the Streets.  
THUS Emilius recounted his Master's Life to Prince Tyridates, who heard him with a marvellous attention, when there came one and told him that Coriolanus, after some hours quiet repose, was newly awaked. Tyridates, whose generosity was deeply concerned in the care of such a qualified Guest, though he flamed with desire to learn the sequel of his Adventures, he then preferred Society before his Story; judging it time to dine, and enjoined by Civility to keep him company, he was willing for a while to defer the continuation of Emilius recital.  
They went together to his Chamber, and the Son of Juba no sooner saw Tyridates, but receiving him with an obliging action, full of bewitching sweetness; You come, said he, from trifling some hours upon a mean divertisement, and you have had your desires, to be acquainted with things so little worthy of your attention, as I fear you are justly displeased with my complacence to your curiosity: I have yet understood no more, replied Tyridates, than the morning actions of your life, and though those of the latter edition, which I confusedly took from the mouth of Rumour, be doubtless the greater and more important; those beautiful beginnings have so tied me to your virtue, in the chains of love and wonder, as I can now no more regard you without the extraordinary motions of affection and respect: Your affection is too dangerous, answered the Moorish Prince, to be otherwise received than as the greatest bliss that fortune can offer me, but I rather owe it your generous disposition, than the recital of a few trivial actions, incapable to merit it: that excessive modesty of yours, replied Tyridates, has confirmed my design, to accept no part of the story from your own mouth, for I see you will debase the Grandeur of your actions, as I shall draw nothing from you but what will fall infinitely short of truth.  
While thus they enlarged their Civilities, their dinner came in, during which they entertained each other with discourses as agreeable as their melancholy hearts could allow.  
The valiant unknown, was served in his Chamber with other meats, for the depth of his wounds obliged him to another sort of nourishment, he was very hardly disposed to suffer the application of any remedy, and the reason he had to afflict himself, returning to his memory, left him so little regard of life, as the care of his recovery was only acted by Tyridates and his Squire.  
Indeed the Prince of Parthia omitted no endeavours that would have been contributed to his proper safety, and by the brave things he had seen him do, and that Majestic mind which was able to sink an impression of respect in all the Souls that beheld him, he had received an opinion of him as a person wholly extraordinary.  
Dinner was no sooner ended, but he was at his Chamber door to inquire of his health, and understanding from the Surgeons, he might now safely be spoken to, he entered the Chamber, and approaching the bed, gave him the bonjour: the stranger enforced his griefs to return what he thought was due to his benefactor, and regarding him with eyes that in spite of their sickly Eclipse sparkled something more fierce and martial than was to be found in the rest of mankind: You mis-employ your pity, said he, upon a man that has neither fortune nor life enough left to acknowledge it, but the Gods will pay you in my behalf, and supply by their bounty the impuissance of a wretch on whom you have so nobly, and yet so ineffectually placed yours: this discourse (the pulse of a most violent grief) touched the soul of Tyridates with a fresh compassion, and desirous to sweeten the sorrows of that valiant man, as well as his own would permit him: I should be really happy, said he, in a power as well to reconcile your spirit with repose, as your body with health; but the Gods from whom you bid me expect a reward for such trivial offices will employ their puissance (to which nothing is difficult) in restoring what they have taken from you, and if you trust their goodness, you will doubtless receive all the assistance requisite for your consolation.  
In reason the Stranger owed a reply to this Language, and doubtless in another reason would have paid it, but his thoughts were then in pursuit of another subject, and after he had spent some moments in a deep study: Have you yet learned no news, said he, of the cruel Pirate that fled yesterday from my just pursuit? know you not whether the persons that were in his power, were delivered by some Divine or humane assistance? We have heard nothing of that, answered Tyridates, and believe he saved himself with his prey in those vessels we saw last night put off to Sea; Gods! cried the stranger, with an action full of transport, Gods! who have suffered me to find nothing among men but cruelty and ingratitude; shall I ever meet the refusal of succour at your hands, and must I be eternally exposed to oppression and injustice? have you favoured me in those occasions that would contribute to my glory, to cross me in all those that should serve my repose? and in fine, shall these advantages you have given me, serve for nothing but to dress my misfortune, and gag my ruin? He stopped at these words, which he mingled with deep sighs, and after he had stayed some time in the posture of a man possessed with furious resolutions; Do pitiless fortune, pursued he, do, cruel Enemy, all the mischief that thy blind power can fasten upon my destiny, I do here lay myself open to thy cruel persecution, and defy thy malice to trample upon a Courage, which yet thou hast but vainly combated with.  
He paused at these words, and Tyridates perceiving he had much ado to stop there, out of fear that his presence might put him to some constraint, and the Surgeon's opinion that a pursuit of his passionate discourse might injure his health, after he had entreated him to take some repose, and follow their advice to whose care his health was committed, and seek, if possible, for comfort in that grand courage, whereof he had given so many glorious proofs in so short a time, he took his leave for the rest of the day.  
From that Chamber he returned to Coriolanus, to whom he gave an account of his visit, repeated the words and described the passion of the Stranger: At this the Sun of Juba shrugged up his shoulders, and lifted up his eyes, when after he had been some moment's silent: Oh valiant Stranger, cried he! if thy soul be seized with a violent grief, how well has Fortune patterned our Condition: yet thy Calamities must swell to a strange bulk to measure thy Calamities with mine, when you shall know my last Adventures, continued he, turning to Tyridates, you will doubtless deplore my misfortune, and possible believe that the miseries of others are trifles in comparison of mine. To keep you no longer in doubt of this, Emilius is ready to finish his Story, since you had rather have it from his mouth than mine: for that, said Tyridates, I shall take a time when Civility forbids me to enjoy your Company, though 'tis confessed I desire with some violence to learn the succession of those beautiful Actions, whereof the beginnings were so charming, but I shall refer it to those hours which will not permit me to see you without importunity: I cannot suffer the constraint your Courtesy offers, said Coriolanus, to a person who has no necessity to require it, do not disoblige yourself for my Divertisement, my thoughts do furnish me with an ample entertainment, and let me have leave to tell you, that in the sad estate to which Love and Fortune has reduced me, if your company was not marvellously bewitching, it would not be supportable.  
By these words Coriolanus obliged Tyridates to leave him, and that Prince taking Emilius along to his Chamber, made him sit down in the same place where they passed away the morning, and the faithful Squire knowing his intention, after he had prepared his discourse with some moments of silence, he pursued the Story in this manner.  

The Continuation of the History of Coriolanus and Cleopatra.  
WE marched out of Rome to Asturia, with the encouragement of many auspicious presages for the War, and all those to whom the frequentation of my Master's company had given any knowledge of his virtue, entertained very pregnant hopes of his success in that Epedition: though he could take no employment that over-toped his illustrious Birth, he had some reason to think it strange, that a Prince born of a barbarous King, Enemy to the People of Rome, not exceeding the age of 21. should command a Roman Army, at a time when Rome abounded with so many famous Captains of her own, that were capable of Conduct; I say to command, for indeed though Tilus Carisius remained with some shadow of Authority in those Provinces, his want of Experience, with the infirmities of his Person, had rendered him so inconsiderable to the Soldiers, as, though my Prince still did him the honour to receive his advice in all affairs, the absolute Power was solely in his hands, and the entire glory of all those memorable events in that Expedition by the general vote was allotted to him only: he was received by the Legions with loud acclamations, and besides that the opinions of his former exploits, had gained him the hearts of part of the Captains; the bounteous distribution of Nature's favour, signally stamped in his Face, Language, and Actions, quickly procured him the affection and respect of all those to whom his Virtue was yet undiscovered.  
The Commission he received from the Emperor was generally approved, the Soldiers, Officers, and Carisius himself, (to whom Varro's violent humour had been intolerable) accepted this young Companion in Command without a murmur, and, though he was Lieutenant of a Roman Army, he held it an honour, that the Son of a King, a thousand times more considerable by his merits than birth, was apparently contented to share the Dignity with him, only reserving all the trouble and danger to himself: 'tis then to my Prince alone you may please to attribute the honour of all that was done in that Way, and though the orders were often subscribed with Carisius' name as well as his, I am able to affirm as a constant Witness, that never forsook him, he had no more hand in any part of the action, than if he had then been at Rome, only amusing himself with political maxims how to govern the Provinces, and preserve the Cities in obedience, that we have reduced; while my Master at the head of his Army did the business of the War, making new brooks of barbarous blood run through Campania.  
The Enemies had two renowned Captains among them, he that led the Asturians was called Sillo, and Theopistus commanded the Cantabrians: They had many flying bodies besides, ranged under several Lieutenants, which were placed as necessity advised, in divers parts of the Provinces, where they might best distress the Romans, their Cities were universally up in Arms, fortified with strong Garrisons, and furnished with abundance of Victuals, all their straits and passes upon Rivers defended with so much strength and caution, as it appeared no petty enterprise, no contemptible task to tame this warlike people.  
Yet the threats of these difficulties instead of discouraging, inflamed the heart of the fierce young Prince, with an eager desire of forcing from those fair occasions an improvement of his Glory; and joining to his admirable valour, and incredible prudence, if compared with his years, he began to act in that War, both by Conduct and Execution, like another Hannibal, or a Julius Caesar; never did any thing appear so beautiful, as my brave Prince in the functions of his charge, and when his head was in a Casque, that noble and warlike mind was so highly advantaged by the grace he used in his command, as his Enemies themselves had not power to behold him without affection; the first time he presented himself to their view, was upon the bank of a little River, where Theopistus appeared in person at the head of above 30000 Combatants, the River was narrow but scarce fordable, which kept the Armies from joining, and forced them for a long time to fight at a distance with no other weapons than Arrows, till my Master knowing the advantage of the Romans consisted in a closer Combat, and not in those wooden shours, whereby the Barbarians might happily dispute the Victory with danger to his party, after he had sought the fittest place, he spurred his Horse into the water, and like another Alexander at the passages of Granicus, both by words and example encouraged a part of his Cavalry to keep him company in the danger, and thus sometimes fording, sometimes swimming their Horses, they gained the opposite bank.  
The Cantabrians amazed at so prodigious a daring, had not courage enough left them to stand the Encounter, and my Master taking advantage of the disorder, wherein fear and wonder had shuffled them, gave his Enemies a hot charge, and his own Soldier's time to pass the River with greater facility than before, which still came up with such fresh supplies to his succour, as at last he totally routed their Army, and carried so entire a victory, as more than 15000 Barbarians were left dead upon the spot.  
The first loss struck such a terror into the Enemy, as made them manage their quarrel with more Caution.  
A few days after they thought, they had gotten an occasion to revenge the last slaughter by our total ruin, and indeed they put us in great danger; for my Prince, sitting down with his Army before a Town called Tilloe, built upon a Marsh, and made by its Situation almost inaccessible, the Enemies two Generals having rallied and raised all the Forces they could make, came up with an admirable diligence in two great bodies, encamped themselves at our backs, and shut us up between the City, the Marsh, and their two Armies, leaving no passage free, unless we could cut out the way through one of their gross bodies.  
My Master presently perceived what an Error his Ignorance in the Country had made him incur, but loath to give his Soldier's time to perceive their disadvantage, and receive a terror that might give the Enemies the victory, to save his men, he resolved to raise the Siege, and judging the design more fit for the favourite of darkness than light; having caused the Troops and Legions to be ready to march about midnight, and giving all necessary orders to the Officers, he sent two or three hundred men to give an Alarm at Theopistus Quarters, and when the Enemies believed the danger bend itself that way, and he suddenly broke with all his Forces upon Sillo's Army, threw down all that stood in his way, and by his Example we charged so vigorously, as assisted by our sudden surpizal, and the fire we threw about into all the Quarters of their Camp, and the night's darkness, which increased the terror, we put them to such a general rout, as after we had killed about 10000 Barbarians, we passed through their Camp upon the necks of the rest, which were left covered with Carcases and blood, and made good our retreat scarce with the loss of 600 men, to the top of a Mountain, where we encamped before day, whose newborn light made us quickly understand ourselves in a condition to present them battle.  
This brave piece of service passed for a miracle among the Barbarians, and so fearfully astonished them, as in stead of marching in Battle against us, they rose up with their Army, and directed their March through the City, they went and encamped on the other side the Marsh  
A few days after, my Master reinforcing his numbers with the supplies of 8000 Foot and 4000 Horse, which Carisius had sent him, he re-attaqued the City so vigorously, as in spite of the Enemy's Army that lay at the Gates on the other side, and fortified it with numbers necessary for defence, within six days time we carried it by storm, and marched toward the Enemy with so much Courage and Confidence, as it took away theirs, and obliged them to a timorous retreat into such places, whose Situation hindered us from forcing them to fight. I contract the recital of these things in as narrow a volume as possible, for should I tie my relation to every particular, it would cost more time than I have now to lay out upon the whole Discourse.  
While these things passed at the Camp, Fame daily carried intelligence of my Masters grand actions to every Roman ear, which brought as much joy to Marcellus and the rest of his friends, as despite to Livia, and the whole faction of Tiberius; the Princess Cleopatra who drove a more peculiar Interest in his glory than the rest, forgot not to acknowledge her particular satisfaction, and to that purpose she answered all his Letters; but my memory, too weak to retain them, I only preserved some of the shortest, and especially that which she wrought upon intelligence of his victory I last related, I believe the words differed not much from these.  
The Princess Cleopatra, to the valiant Juba Coriolanus Prince of Mauritania.  
TO gain great Battles against the Valiantest people in Europe, to force Cities defended by an Army that out-numbered yours, and render the nights themselves famous by your victories, are actions conformed to my wishes, and worthy of your Courage, but thus every moment to lavish such precious blood, so oft to expose a life so dear unto me to the mercies of danger, when necessity does not bind you, are actions contrary to your obedience, and the care you ought to take of my repose; yet I incline to pardon, when I remember, you combat for my conquest, as well as your own glory, and that you owe part of those advantages your valour will give of your Rival, to the thought that you fight for Cleopatra.  
These clear proofs of Cleopatra's affection swollen my Master's courage to a greater height, and daily carried him to the enterprise of braver exploits, for which Fortune offered him fair opportunities, and the Gods seemed willing for his glory, that our Enemies, by the arrival of a great recruit, should be once more able to face us in the field, and trusting to the number of their men, which far exceeded ours, they descended into the plain of Gangaris, and presented us Battle.  
Coriolanus, though much the weaker in number, joyfully accepted the Asturians defiance, and ranging his Army with a dexterous prudence, he marched against the Barbarians not as to a doubtful Combat, but a certain victory.  
I remember he was that day covered with a Coat of Steel, so exceedingly bright, as the splendour of it mingled with the rays of the Jewels that enriched his arms, and both received the Sunbeams, form a flame which seemed to environ him; besides, there appeared another in several flashes at his eyes that darted their fierce glory with such extraordinary ardour, as it was even difficult for his friends to behold them without betraying some kind of fear; he wore no Casque to cover his face, but only a little Morion after the Greek fashion, shaded with twenty white feathers, under which his visage appeared that whole day naked to the view, and his long curled hair which descended upon his shoulders in gross amulets, seemed to borrow brightness from his warlike ardour: he was mounted upon a white horse, dappled with black spots, which at once expressed both pride and beauty, and in his right hand held two darts, which he brandished against his Enemies in a menacing fashion.  
Thus, and more fair than I am able to describe him, after he had made an harangue to his troops, with an Eloquence that few alive could match, he lead them on to the Combat, and at his first blow, in the view of all his Army, gave death to Sillo, General of the Asturians, a man of an extraordinary force and stature, who after my Prince's example marching at the head of his forces, was pierced through and through with one of his Javelins, and fell without a soul at his horse feet.  
Coriolanus accompanied that brave Act with a thousand others, which, in spite of the throng into which he rushed with a precipitate fury, were remarked by thousands, and so courageously animated his Soldiers both by his voice and Example, as after a well disputed Combat, victory declared for us, and remained so entirely ours, as more than 35000 Barbarians died upon the place, their whole baggage was taken, and all those that escaped the fury of our Soldiers, scarce found their safety in the wild shelter of the Forests and Mountains.  
This Victory, which by the Romans judgement, to whom the news was quickly carried, might have challenged a comparison, with the most memorable of those that helped to establish their Empire, gave a great stagger to this War, but it was not capable to end it, and though it was long before the Barbarians could recover a condition of fight again, yet they had a great number of strong Cities not one of which would render without resistance, so that they cost us no less than a whole years' time to reduce them; during which, we had divers Combats upon parties, with the Enemy's scattered Troops, which they sent to set upon us on all sides: at last we received intelligence that they had made one great effort for all, and having drawn all the forces together they could make, they were marching towards us, for the last decision of their liberty.  
But while my Master thus bravely busied himself in the service of the Roman Empire, (and besides the purchase of a glory that carried his name to the remotest limits of it, with the applause of the People, Senate, and Emperor) flew at a proud height in Cleopatra's favour, which he still received, confirmed by daily proofs: the malice of his fortune would have it, that Tiberius should light upon no worse success in Germany than he had in Spain: 'tis true, he had the advantage to command the valianter Legions, and deal with Enemies of far less Strength and Courage than ours, whatever it was (for my Master's Interests cannot bribe me to debate the just value of his Enemy's glory) he defeated the Pannonians and Dalmatians in two signal battles, took five or six of their chief Cities, and reduced them to so feeble a condition, as wanting those great resources that so often crested the Asturians and Cantabrians, they were constrained to beg their peace of Tiberius, and receive those conditions it pleased the Conqueror to impose, which the cruel disposition of Tiberius, (ever inflexible to pity or pardon) rendered very rigorous, and though indeed he did signalise himself in that Expedition by divers pieces of personal valour, he was much censured for spilling of blood, without a just necessity, and breaking the Articles in his Capitulation; however in eight months' time, with great advantage to the Empire, he finished that War, and returned to Rome covered with Laurels in so pompous an estate, as the triumphs of Caesar, Pompey, and Paulus Emilius did scarce show more magnificence.  
His actions, to mention them without partiality, were certainly far short of my Masters, as the stories sequel will inform you, but the success not less conducing to Caesar's service, which the Empress with her whole party cried up with loud praises, and strowed the Court with such a noise of his achievements, as if all other men's glory ought to suffer an Eclipse when his was mentioned: Caesar made him a reception, not unworthy of the service he had rendered him, nor the place that he held near his person by his mother's authority, and the Princess Cleopatra, that she might not be construed an Enemy to the State, by betraying any trouble for his prosperity, by advice of those whom her own discreet choice had given Authority over her, received him with a smooth brow.  
Tiberius' left out nothing in his language or behaviour, that might prove a bait for her affection, and tried all the strength of his power with the Empress, in disposing her to sway Caesar's Judgement on his side.  
Livia, as she had formerly done, did for a time resist his entreary, eagerly desirous to address his aims at the Princess Julia, whose possession would put him in a fair path to the Empire, a design that especially toiled her working thoughts: all the persuasions she could urge, were employed upon her Son to change the object of his passion, endeavouring to make him feel the stings of Emulation against Marcellus, who by the enjoyment of Julia would strengthen his pretences to the Sovereign Authority, and doubtless carry the Imperial Crown by the double advantage of Nephew and Son in Law to the Emperor.  
Tiberius was the most aspiring man upon earth, yet than more amorous than ambitious, which armed him with an obstinate defence against Livia's Importunities, and after he had assured her they were all in vain, he pressed so hard for her assistance, protesting his repose and his life depended on it, as that indulgent Mother to the passions of her Son, gave over her persuasions, and began to set her subtleties a work to content him, losing no occasion to solicit Augustus in his behalf, and practising all those Charms upon him which she knew had greatest influence to persuade his preferrence of Tiberius his services to those of Coriolanus.  
The Emperor long resisted her persecutions, and remembering what was due, as well to his Royal word, as the friendship of Marcellus (who publicly propped my Master's Interests) and my Prince's services, who was then struggling with death and danger for the glory of his Empire, he shut his Ears to the sly insinuations of Livia, which incessantly tormented him: this perseverance lasted some months, during which he often protested to determine the difference 'twixt the two Competitors with an impassionate equity, and decide the price of their Actions by such a general Judgement, as neither should have cause to suspect partiality; but in fine, what could not Love do upon a Soul when he had once disarmed it? and what might not Livia hope from him, who for her sake had violated the sacred Laws of Marriage, and (beyond all Precedent) had ravished her great with child from her Husband's arms? well, that subtle spirit plied him so perpetually, as his easy soul at last consenting to believe that Coriolanus mouth might be stopped with rewards more important than Cleopatra, to please the importunate Livia, he declared against him, and promised to pronounce his judgement to her Son's advantage.  
Of this the whole Court had present notice, and it quickly flew to the ears of Marcellus and Cleopatra, the Princess received this news with a most violent displeasure, yet supported it with more moderation than Marcellus, who burst into a loud and haughty passion at the injury was offered his friend, vigorously disputed his Interests in the Emperor's presence, and went so far with Tiberius upon that subject, meeting with him at the door of the Capitol, and exchanging some warm words, they drew their Swords one at another; this quarrel might have raised dangerous disorders in Rome, if Caesar's authority had not stepped between, and forced them to a mutual embrace, charging Marcellus to keep his resentments to himself.  
My Master had advice of his misfortune that same day that he fought the last battle with the Asturians and Cantabrians, and was giving orders at the head of his Army, when two Letters were brought him, one from Marcellus, and the other from Cleopatra: whatever his employment could then allege to dispense with their present perusal, was all overborn by the passion he preserved for those two persons, and opening the Letters he found these words in that of Marcellus, which he first read.  
Marcellus to Juba Coriolanus Prince of Mauritania.  
I Would stay till you received the troublesome news I send you from some other hand, were it not dangerous to retard the Intelligence; the Emperor declares for Tiberius, if your presence does not scatter those advantages that Livia's persuasions have gained upon ours; come away my dear Brother if it be possible, and attend all things from the affection of a Friend, who would not have told you this mischief, but with a purpose to serve you against it, at the price of his Fortunes, his Blood, and his Life. This was Marcellus his Letter, and Cleopatra spoke thus.  
The Princess Cleopatra to Prince Coriolanus.  
YEsterday I understood from the Princess Octavia, that Augustus intends me for Tiberius. The previous discovery of my intentions will tell you how I relish the design; however I know his authority, as big as it is, shall never change my inclinations; your sudden return will possibly befriend you more than all the power we can stir in your favour, and if you apprehend me right, no consideration will be able to defer your coming.  
My Master, as I told you, received and read these Letters, just as he was at the point of giving the last signal for the Battle, and his eye had no sooner arrived at the period, when stopping the forwardest with a loud cry, and commanding their stay till the signal was given, he remained in a confused perplexity, with his thoughts at a loss, what resolution he should take; his resentments of this injury no sooner took fire in his Soul, but it presently flew into such a flame of anger, as the first thought that presented itself was to give away the Victory, and punish the ingratitude of Augustus by the loss of his Army, and the ruin of his affairs in a Country where his valour had established them; then distasting the Treason in that design, and passing thence to another that clashed not so much with his generosity, he took up a thought to abandon the Roman Troops, carry over his Sword to the Enemy's party, and raise them by that to the same height from whence he had thrown them.  
While this irresolution kept him buried in a profound study, some of the Commanders that were nearest his Person, had asked him divers questions touching their employment, without gaining the least word of answer from his mouth: at last awaking from his deep cogitations, he lifted up his head, which all this time he had hung down as low as his Saddle bow, and turning his eyes round, wherein Choler was lively represented: Let us go, said he, whither our duty calls us, and prefer our honour before such resentments as cannot be justified by the event of this day, we may possibly reverse Caesar's intention, or at least find out a death to guard us from the injustice is offered.  
Finishing these words, after he had sent all the Commanders to their several charges, he first gave the last signal, and was the first that flew in among his Enemies; I shall forbear the particulars of this Battle, which was the most cruel and bloodiest of all the rest, only after the dispute had hotly held a part of the day, there fell to our lot so entire a Victory, as of more than 50000 Barbarians that faced us in the morning, scarce the tenth of that number were alive at night, the General Theopistus was there slain, with all the most considerable persons of his party, and thus this root of Rebellion was cut up without the hope of resource; for this miserable people a few days after, submitted to all the conditions were thought fit to impose.  
They would have been very gentle could my Master have stayed his authority in those parts, but the next day after the battle, conceiving his duty amply discharged, he went to find out Carisius, whom he had left lame of the Gout in a neighbouring City, where after he had passed him an account of the state of affairs as he lest them, remitting the whole power into his hands, he took his leave of him, and a few days after parted with the same Equipage that followed him to the Army, endeavouring by great days journeys to reach the Imperial City.  
I will not repeat the passionate complaints which broke from the sense of his wrongs in that voyage, grief and anger took their turns in his words and actions, and sometimes the latter transported him to such rash language, and loud threats, as his friends till then had never observed, and indeed were very unsuitable to his ordinary moderation; whatever diligence we used in the voyage, we arrived not at Rome till three days after the news of our last victory, which we found had taken up a glorious welcome and expressed itself in all the varieties of Joy to receive us; bonfires and sacrifice made the streets flame, and the Altars smoke, at a more conspicuous expense, than was usually bestowed upon the combust of larger territories, and for a more conspicuous mark of glory, the Emperor having now no more Enemies in the world to trouble the tranquillity of his Dominion, in sign of an universal peace, had caused the Temple of Janus be shut, which always stood open in time of War, and was never seen closed since the reign of Numa Pompilius.  
Had notice been given before of my Masters coming, his reception had been little short of a triumphal entry, and certainly had he desired the triumph itself, it would have been granted him; but because he left his charge, and came back without Augustus' orders, he thought it not fit to give advice of his arrival, yet could not hinder the first that saw him pass from breaking out into loud acclamations, and the noise of his return ran so swiftly from mouth to mouth, as in a few moments it was divulged through the whole City.  
Love entitled the payment of his first respects to Cleopatra, amity pleads the precedency of his visit to Marcellus, but his desire to observe an exact Decorum in the requisites of his duty, vanquished the motions of Love and Amity, and conducted him with a great train of friends that followed, whose number swelled at every step, to the Emperor's Palace, where he than was in person.  
Marcellus, who had met the report of his arrival, as well as the rest, ran to meet him with a throng of his friends, and encountering at the Palace-gate, that Interview was spent upon the dear entertainment of such mutual Caresses as cannot be well understood, but by those Souls that have listed themselves under the standard of as perfect an amity: nevertheless it was well observed, that their faces were not painted with that satisfaction which ought to have followed the glory of my Master's victories: after they had a thousand times repeated their dear embraces, and my Master's courtesy paid what was due to the salutes of his friends, the two Princes drew themselves aside from the rest of the company, and fell into some private discourse, with the Subject of which, the language of their actions easily acquainted me: we heard not what was said till the latter end, when my Prince raising his voice: This is my resolution, said he, I will go presently to Caesar, and render him an accout of the Commission he gave me, and after I have represented my services, I will demand Justice of himself, for the injustice he has done me; and I, said Marcellus, will join with you, and against all Enemies that dare oppose us, our interests shall be in separable.  
At these words they mounted the stairs hand in hand, and went together to the Emperor's lodgings; he was then retired into his Cabinet only with Agrippa and Maecenas, that entertained him with some important affairs of State; but when it was told him that Marcellus and Coriolanus were at the door, he commanded they should enter, & maugre his suprizal at my Master's sudden appearance, he received him with a smooth aspect, and gave him such a welcome as was due to the fresh memory of his grand actions.  
Coriolanus having saluted him with all the respect that was owing to his person and dignity, fixing a bold and undaunted eye upon his face, and preventing some questions he was ready to ask, Sir, said he, I am doubtless culpable, by appearing in your presence before the repeal of your orders, but while my being was necessary in those places, where you did me the honour to send me, neither the memory of my dearest interests, nor the entire peace of my Soul, had power to pull me from those occasions of your service: all your Enemies are defeated; above 100000 Barbarians have had their threads cut by our Swords, their Cities are all submitted, their Provinces in a profound obedience, and what now remains for Carisius to do, will cost neither labour nor effusion of blood; and now Sir, I bring my Sword and my life to your feet, employ them both upon fresh expeditions, if that which I came from, has not yet made me worthy of the recompense yourself taught me to hope for; spare not blood, for it cannot be more gloriously spilt, than for the service of Caesar, and the conquest of Cleopatra.  
He let fall these words in a graceful and becoming posture that charmed the Spirit of Augustus, who witnessed the high thoughts he had of him, by most particular Caresses and after he had repeated many embraces, with an action that overflowed with kindness,: You have done things for our Empire said he, the Grandeur of which, does not only excuse your return, but almost leaves us too weak to acknowledge it, yet I expected no less from your virtue whereof you have ever shown such beautiful marks, as may give you a just encouragement to attend a recompense, that possible outweighs the possession of Cleopatra. It is to her only, Sir, hastily replied the Prince, that I have raised my ambition, and, as it belongs to none but great Caesar, to give away a Gem of that value, so I ought to receive it of him as a present, infinitely above my services. I am sorry, replied the Emperor, that my promise does oblige me to favour Tiberius in his research of Cleopatra, he is the Son of the Empress my Spouse, whose affection has too great a sway in my breast, to go away with refusal, yet I would never have consented to vote against you, had not I prepared you another gift far more considerable than what you pretend to: and with what gift, my Lord, replied the impatient Coriolanus, can you satisfy me for the loss of Cleopatra? have you any thing so precious in the whole extent of your Empire, to repair the injury you would do me, in martyring those hopes, which had never been conceived but by your consent; nor came abroad but upon your Parole: Yes answered the Emperor, I have the Realms of your Ancestors, the Crowns of both the Mauritanians to restore unto you, which I am contented you should possess under the protection of the Empire, in the same manner that Herod, Polemon, Arehelaus, and those other Kings, our Allies, do hold their Estates.  
This was not so cheap an offer of the Emperors, but it might have tempted any other soul besides my Masters, to have bit greedily at the bait, and produced an effect not capable to calm their displeasure; but in his it encountered no such disposition, and not staying one moment to balance his answer, Sir, said he, with an action full of coldness, the Present you offer me is truly worthy of your own Altitude, and it pertains to none but great Caesar, who is Master of all Empires, to give, with so much munificence and magnanimity: by the gift of my Father's Crowns, I should be infinitely overpaid for my services, though I add the industry of my whole life, to bring them nearer to equality: But could you superadd the rest of the earth to this present, I would refuse it, nay, and misprise it too for Cleopatra, in her alone by your own permission I circled my desires, and without her, all the baits of ambition will lose their taste, and the Monarchy of the World would be insupportable. I see your Passion doth now blind you, replied the Emperor, but when your reason shall once recover its liberty, you will quickly acknowledge, that I do you no wrong, in taking a woman from you, to make you a King of two puissant Realms. Ah! my Lord, cried Coriolanus, this does not agree with the promise you made me, and when I drew my Sword in your quarrel against your Enemy's Forces, you were willing, that by the advancement of your service, and my own glory, I should try my right to Cleopatra's possession; Tiberius, whom your own condescension made my Antagonist, cannot render a fairer account of his employment, than I of mine; and if you take the pains to scan our actions, you will doubtless find the difference cannot be strained to his advantage: If his Sword has reaped a fairer Harvest than mine, and himself be more considerable in being Son to the Empress, give him a reward, Sir, that better suits with his services and ambition, give him the Diadems you offer me, I shall not see them embrace his Temples with an envious eye, though they were once my Father's inheritance, and if Cleopatra cannot be merited, but by him that can set a Crown upon her head, I will go seek it among a people, which have not yet felt your puissance, where I may possibly gain that at the point of my Sword, which the disastrous fate of my Parents lost before I had a being.  
This liberty of language had probably been ill relished by any other person of Augustus' dignity, but that Prince, who in all his familiar discourses used to allow a liberty to those he loved, instead of condemning, esteemed his boldness, and then desirous he should retire, more maturely to digest the offer he had made him: Go, said he, take advice with your Friends, and if it be their opinion that I have done you injustice, come again unto me and renew your complaints with an unrestrained liberty.  
Coriolanus would have presently replied, if Marcellus by a sign from the Emperor had not led him away: that excellent friend fearing a persistance in that discourse, might provoke the Emperor's spirit, and believing it might be more successfully renewed at another season, he obliged him almost by force to retire; but before he left the presence, making a profound reverence to Augustus: Sir, said he, give me leave to hope your just bounty will create a change in your intentions, which doubtless will be more equitable than that you have suffered in behalf of Tiberius.  
He stayed not for an answer, but retired with Marcellus in such troubled posture, as he could scarce be known by his friends, whom the noise of his return had called from all parts of the City to visit him. As he came out from the Emperor, he met Tiberius attended by a great number of fawning Courtiers, that since the swelling of his fortune and favour, thronged about him on all sides, the two Rivals passed by one another without a salute; but this encounter confirmed Coriolanus, by the assurance he should not meet his Rival there, in a sudden resolution to go see Cleopatra, and deeming it unfit to retard his visit any longer, he went immediately thither, attended by the whole troop of his friends to the door, though Marcellus and he only entered the Princess Chamber, she had heard of his arrival, and, to clear a path to his attempt of an interview, she had caused it to be given out among those that frequented her Chamber, she was not then in a condition to receive a visit.  
In effect the grief she had taken from the Emperor's change, and Livia's persecutions, had really caused some alteration in her health, and the two Princes found her upon the bed in her night attire, in the posture of a person indisposed: the approach of night had already caused the Tapers to be lighted in her chamber, and by the help of those, Goriolanus entering, beheld his fair Princess with an amorous amazement, clad in the beams of a thousand beauties: she raised herself up upon the bed to receive him, and while he put his knee to the ground, and took her fair hand to kiss it, she let fall her head upon his, and laid her arm upon his shoulder, with an action full of sweetness and affection: the displeasures of my Prince for some moments, were most delightfully charmed by that reception, nor could his desires have invented more felicity than to pass away the rest of his life in so happy a condition: at last he rose from his knee by the Princess command, and while Marcellus, to leave a liberty of discourse to the Lovers, entertained himself with her Maids, taking a seat by her bed's side, and greedily feeding his eyes upon her face from whence they had long been weaned, he was opening his mouth to speak, when the fair Princess preventing him, and taking the word with an Air replete with grace and Majesty;  
After your glorious escape of so many dangers, said she, which have given me a thousand fears in your behalf, I cannot behold you a triumphant Conqueror without betraying all the joy I owe to the high reputation your valour has purchased; yet my gladness had come nearer to perfection, could I have seen you here upon the summons of some other motives than that which called you home: and now to give you my naked thoughts, know Coriolanus, that the change of Augustus has not galled your heart with a more sensible quiet than mine, nor have the proofs of his intentions wrought any effects upon my spirit to your prejudice, Tiberius appears not more amiable since Caesar supported him than he did before, whose ingratitude to you, if it be possible, has showed me more worth and beauty in those qualities that obliged me to love you: My Prince bowing his head at this discourse with a profound submission: Then Madam, said he, I am not utterly lost, as my fear construed it by your Letter and the Emperor's language, for if your goodness still own me, though all the world should declare for Tiberius, he could not equal my condition: Let Livia solicit for him, and Augustus openly profess his partiality, they will both be too weak to stagger my fortune, so long as my Princess props it, and as her affection only gives it a perfect being, if I lose not that, I can lose nothing else that is capable to afflict me.  
He would have said more, when the Princess desired him to give her the discourse between him and the Emperor; Coriolanus repeated word for word in so passionate a manner, as the Princess could not defend her heart from the same resentments, but when she understood in what fashion he rejected the Emperor's proffer of his Kingdoms for his sake, she would not hide her acknowledgement, and taking more kindness into her eyes than they expressed before: You have sinned, said she, against your interests, in preferring me before your Father's Crown, yet in that act you have not deceived me, since I ever believed you capable of dis-esteming the most advantageous conditions, if they were once put into the other scale against your affection; methinks this Generosity does well become the Prince I have given my heart to, and to give you a Copy of the same, Coriolanus, I do here promise you, that if Tiberius, or any other more conformed to my inclinations, could place me upon a Throne where I might sway the Universe, I would despise it all for your sake, since for mine you have refused the Crowns of your Ancestors, my ambition shall lay away its wings, and find a clearer satisfaction in your person, than in the possession of Royalties, and since fortune has taken away those that belonged to our Houses, we cannot brave her better, than by tying our affections to those things upon which she has neither Empire nor influence; 'tis she alone that helped Augustus to the power he has over me, nor shall I break any modest rule, in disobeying his command to love Tiberius, or offend any other Laws than such as the Victors and the Fortune have imposed upon the vanquished and unhappy.  
Oh my Princess, cried my Master, how generous are you, how worthy to be the Daughter of so illustrious a Queen, who shamed our Sex by the Grandeur of her Courage, but Madam, what shall this happy unfortunate do, whose condition you hold up, against the puissance of the Empire, in the highest place of humane felicity? by what price shall he pay for the least part of these Divine bounties? By a fidelity, replied Cleopatra, which I value above the Treasury of Augustus, and by which you may preserve till death, that affection whereon you establish your felicity. If that be the means, replied my Prince, I will be happy to my Tomb, and all the humane considerations shall never stagger me one moment in that inviolable loyalty, which with new vows I do once more prostrate at your feet, and which alone shall hold my Honour, my Repose, my Crowns and Dignities: But Madam, said he, after pausing a few moments, if I may have licence to ask it, how will you defend yourself against the Emperors will? and what order will you take to resist him, when he commands you to love the Son of Livia? as yet, replied the Princess, he has not served himself with his authority to oblige me, and the form of Government he affects; besides the reputation he is desirous to acquire, of a good and just Emperor, does bid me hope he will never come to open violence with the Daughter of Antony and Cleopatra: 'tis true, modesty forbids me an absolute declaration in your favour, and in divulging my repugnance for Tiberius, it will not become me to publish my inclinations for Coriolanus; but since for our misfortune, I am deprived of those persons, to whom my birth gave the right of my disposal, I will protest an obedience to the Princess Octavia's will, who by her marriage with my Father, the shelter she first gave me in her house, and the Maternal care she has taken of us all, may with reason challenge a Daughter's obedience: this will exempt me from all the reproaches I might else receive, and if it gives you any fear, because Octavia is the Sister of Augustus, it ought to re-assure you, because she is the Mother of Marcellus, and such a one as ever cherished a high esteem of you with a great deal of affection. I am yet obliged to keep my steps in this path, by the absence of my Brother Alexander, who has been long from hence, and of whom we have heard no news ever since his departure out of Germany, whither by the Emperor's command he followed Tiberius: my younger Brother Ptolomee has meddled but little with my conduct, which, if the reasons that led me to this choice be scanned aright, can be no where more safely deposed, than in the hands of that virtuous Princess.  
During this Discourse, Marcellus came and joined company, and understanding Cleopatra's intention: Sister, said be, (for Octavia would have that appellation to be commonly shared among her own Children, and those of her dead Husband) I believe you cannot make better choice of a resolution, for besides that it holds the best proportion with that modest decorum you would practise, Coriolanus may make himself as sure of Octavia's good will, as Marcellus friendship: that virtuous and grand Princess, added my Master, has ever treated me with too much goodness, to leave me the least scruple of trusting her power with my fortunes.  
This Discourse was followed by divers others upon the same subject, wherein Cleopatra and the two Princes were long a mingling their reasons, which at last being brought to a conclusion, they took their leaves to go visit the Princess Octavia, to whom after Cleopatra, my Master designed the payment of his first respects: that good Princess after she had received him with all the signs of a real amity, and confirmed her Sons words, of the good opinion and high esteem she had of him, protested, that no consideration should ever menace or entice her consent to lean to his prejudice: my Master kissed her hands with a great deal of submission and acknowledgement, and taking his leave instead of retiring to his own lodgings, he went and lay that night with Marcellus, as well to satisfy his amity, which would not permit so quick a separation, as to take a more particular account from his mouth, in relation to Julia, than his Pen had given him.  
I have tied myself so strictly to my Master's adventures, as I half forgot to follow the thread of Marcellus his unlucky love to Julia; but I will now comprise in a few words what happened in our absence, wherewith my Master was partly acquainted by his friends letters, and more fully instructed from his own mouth at our return.  
The spite that Marcellus took to see himself so lightly abandoned by Julia, kindled such a resentment against her, as would doubtless have quenched his Passion, if a just anger could have overmatcht it, but if he had too little power to exile, at least he had enough for a time to restrain it, and keep the fond effects of his love in hold, which that giddy Princess had so ingratefully abused. In effect he began to retire his observances so coldly, as instead of keeping up the custom of wasting whole days in her attendance, he now scarce rendered her two visits in two weeks; in lieu of seeking occasions to find her alone, he fled them openly, and when he was obliged to entertain her, he did it with a respect, mingled with so much coldness, as it was easy to perceive, he rather treated her as the Daughter of Augustus, and so (as many reasons advised him) did homage to her quality, than as a person to whom he had tied himself by any other chain than the consideration of her fortune; Julia, who observed his behaviour, and was not ignorant of the cause, did at first so little regard it (her thoughts being only bend at Coriolanus, who was still fresh in her memory) as she paid his personated coldness with one so real and remarkable, as it was quickly observed, and grown the discourse of most of the Courtiers, who passed their Judgements upon it according to several conjectures: by this scornful carriage of Julia, the anguish of poor Marcellus was so augmented, as his body took infection from his mind, and shared a part of the malady, which so decrested the looks of that lovely Prince, as though the Emperor, who was one of the first that discovered it, did often examine his Nephews melancholy; he had still a reserve of discretion to conceal his daughter's inconstancy; and though Agrippa was particularly touched with the torments of Marcellus, had told the Emperor that it doubtless proceeded from some petty breach between the Princess and him, yet they found it impossible to clear that discovery by Marcellus' confession.  
In fine, the sad estate of that abused Prince from day to day received such sensible aggravations, as they began to find a feeling in Julia's spirit, whose affection though faded in the flower, was still alive in the root, besides the despite she took to see herself so disdained by Coriolanus, made her resolve to call home those partial glances, and clearing her soul of all the violence affection had kindled, she began to open her eyes afresh upon that deserving Prince, and repented she had left him for a man who had openly misprized her; to this I may add, that the Princess Seribonia her Mother, who reputed, as she was, yet lived in Rome at a considerable height, and was often visited by her Daughter, understanding the scurvy use she gave Marcellus, and well knowing her advancement depended upon her complacence to the Emperors will, sharply checked her for the little care she took to conform herself to it, and representing Livia's dangerous power with Caesar, which in all probability would powerfully carry his affections along the stream of her own blood, and leave her no more than the naked name of Augustus' Daughter, disposed her no longer to despise the means of preserving her interests: in fine, whether by a real return of her affection, the care of her own advancement, or her indignation against my Master, Julia resolved to recall Marcellus to her favour; and, that once concluded, she was so little able to bridle her revived flame, as she was ready to throw herself at his feet, and vent it in all the submissive ways she could find to regain him: at the first discovery of her design, he slighted the nets her kindness spread, and, as Julia had given him a just offence, so he expected a reparation, which he saw she was ready to tender, that might balance her inconstancy: being one day in the Emperor's Chamber, where dividing himself from the rest of the company, he was retired alone to the corner of a chimney, against which he leaned in a deep meditation, when the Princess regarding his melancholy posture, and not sorry to meet that occasion of discourse, she went to him, and finding him so busied with his thoughts, as they had not suffered him to see her, though she stood at his Elbow; she put a handkerchief, which she held in her hand before his face, and perceiving that action had scarce brought him to himself: What's the subject of your musing, Marcellus, said she, iterating her familiar gesture, What is it you dream of? this last rousing brought the Prince to himself, and taking notice of Julia's words: The subject of my musing, answered he, is possible the same that sets your ordinary thoughts to their task, I dreamed of Coriolanus.  
That word brought warm blood into Julia's face, and willing to let him see that it stung her to the quick: You are not deep enough in my heart, said she, to divine my thoughts: 'tis because I am there too seldom replied the sad Marcellus, that I know them so well, but he that has banished me thence, has done it so innocently, as I have no reason to accuse him: He brought forth these words with so melancholy an Air, as whatever cause the Princess found to foment anger, she saw more to invite pity, and to let him know as much: If you were in a better humour, said she, we might possibly find a cure for your Error, but that care will be taken when you are more reasonable.  
At these words (seeing Maecenas and Domitius approach with some other persons that came to join company) she quitted him, only she left him a glance or two at parting, that were sweetened on purpose to give him intelligence, that he might boldly renew his hopes of her affection, and by that action finished her victory of his resentments; for though the cause did still weigh heavy upon his heart, yet she had got such an ascendent there, as would not permit a perseverance in the violence he offered to himself.  
In stead of evading, as formerly, he now sought occasions to entertain the Princess, which that very evening he found it not hard to obtain, since the whole Court carried a complacence to his intentions, and Julia herself desired it with equal ardour. It was in her own Chamber where she first restored him that liberty, and the rest of the company when they saw them enter a particular discourse, respectively withdrawing themselves to a fit distance, he had as much distance as he could wish to serve his design: Julia herself was the first that began the parley, and taking a hint from those sad looks which had dwelled upon his face: What Marcellus, said she, will you waste the rest of your days in such a sullen humour, as is insupportable to all those that come near you? will you never dissipate these melancholy clouds, that render your society ingrateful to all your friends?  
Marcellus sighed at this discourse, and darting a passionate look at the Princess: Ah Madam, said he, how easily yourself is able to answer this question, and how well you are acquainted with the source of that woe which changes my face, and leads me to my Tomb; had I a spirit that could efface these impressions as easily as yours, I should have already found out a way to comfort, and you no more have seen the marks of displeasure either in my face or actions; I have adored you with a Religion, that has taught you to understand your own puissance, and the Gods are witnesses, that since the moment I began to be yours, I have tied my thoughts so entirely to your service, as I could never admit any other consideration, you have by your former bounties, which indeed were justified by the Emperor's intentions, favoured this rashness that has ruined me; nor did you block up my way with an impediment, that might wake the knowledge of myself, or stay me upon the brow of that precipice from whence I am tumbled; you suffered me to hope, you permitted me to believe myself beloved by you, and when that unlucky Error had got such authority within me, as I thought myself mounted to the tallest stair of my fortune, without any apparition of a cause, you have suddenly thrown me down, ill-treated, abandoned, and banished me for a man, who, worthy as he is of your affection, did never seek after it: after this (the greatest, or rather the only mischief that could tread upon my spirit) you wonder I can be sad, and seem amazed at the appearance of a change in my visage; no, rather think it a miracle that so grand a disaster should do so little execution; conclude it strange, that the grief you have seen and caused, should not ease me of this deplorable life, which I still drag along, and for default of that, my own hands should not sacrifice all that is left of it to your inconstancy.  
Marcellus could go no farther in his complaint, it being stopped by a torrent of tears that drowned the passage of his words, at which the Princess was so tenderly touched, as she had no power to refuse him those affections, which before she had so liberally given him; and though indeed she made use of Deceit and Artifice to excuse her levity, I really believe she did then let herself go down the stream of compassion, to her first inclinations: she took one of Marcellus hands, which she pressed between hers, and after she had darted him a glance that penetrated his heart, and freshly set loves wounds a bleeding, Marcellus said she, I find great cause by your discourse and actions to accuse you, and had I a soul as prompt and prone to resentment as yours, I should plot a revenge upon your unjust suspicion, and punish the vexations it has inflicted on my repose as well as yours; but because the affection I bore you can neither consent to, nor consist with vengeance, and your jealousy had rendered me surer proofs of your affection, than I should ever have drawn from your calmer thoughts, I will forgive your reproaches, and cure your distrust. What, added she, with a milder sweetness in her look than before, did you think I could renounce you for Coriolanus? for Coriolanus I say, who cannot boast more favours from Nature than yourself, and is far your inferior in all those of fortune? should I quit Marcellus a Roman Prince, Son to the Sister of Caesar, dear to the Emperor as his own child, and designed my Spouse from our infant years, for the Son of Juba an African, whom fortune has despoiled of all but his Sword, and at whom I could levelly no such aims that would not be criminal before the Emperor; nay more, who neither loves me, nor was ever affected by me? How, replied Marcellus, did you never love Coriolanus? why did you then display so many testimonies of it, as were interpreted by a thousand persons at the same time when you treated me with so much coldness and contempt, as nothing less than an entire blindness could have made me misconstrue your change? Was it from Coriolanus mouth, added Julia, that you understood the particulars of this affection you lay to my charge? Coriolanus, replied Marcellus, has too much Discretion and respect for persons of your Sex & condition, to divulge any language that might wound their repute, but (besides that he had little power to disavow what appeared so openly) his confession was necessary to confirm that knowledge, which was but too clearly shown me by a thousand proofs.  
At this the subtle Julia put her hand before her face, feigning to hide a blush that was newly mounted thither: I am sorry, said she, you force me to discover my weakness, but the design I had to hide it from you, is much out-valued by the price of your quiet; know then, that allowing you as much affection, or more, than my reason told me was due, or your own could justly desire; I was willing to believe that it merited the entire gift of your heart, when I perceived, or at least I thought I perceived, that you shared your affections to Cleopatra; the visits you rendered her, frequent as those I received, your regards, discourse, and all your actions (on which 'tis confessed my interest might pass an interpretation too criminal) joined to what I have heard you confess, and the love you once bore to that beautiful Princess, stirred me up a Jealousy against you, which a little observation might easily have made your discovery; Indeed I avow that when I had once admitted the belief of your ingratitude and inconstancy, I endeavoured with all my power to chase you from my thoughts, and then it was you began to apprehend those cold distempers in my carriage, the cause of which I was resolved to conceal all my life from your knowledge, supposing if you were really changed, that my Jealousy, instead of reducing, would but augment your insolence, and expose me to your scorn, by the knowledge of my immoderate passion; but these marks of my anger, and not (as they were construed) of my oblivion wrought not the effects upon you I desired, and finding you (as my suspicion told me) still more sedulous in the service of your Passion to Cleopatra then before, I could bethink myself of no other way, than to try if I could touch you with Jealousy, and finding no fitter person to drive my design than Coriolanus, I feigned to love him, pretending by this Hypocrisy, a revenge upon you and Cleopatra together, endeavouring to possess you with a belief that I had changed you for the African Prince, and requite Cleopatra, by depriving her of Coriolanus, as I believe she had robbed me of Marcellus; thus at least I was one way infallibly sure to thrive in my designs: if you truly loved me, I knew the fear you borrowed from my behaviour, would soon bring you home again; and if not, by those slights and neglects in my carriage, I anticipated the declaration of yours, which might have exposed me to that of all the Romans, and you might easily judge, by perceiving how I took those reproaches you gave me, that the demonstrations of the Love you suspected, were made too public to be real, and, if your memory has not lost the observation, you know I took less care to hide it from you, than any other person, though possible I was not so stupid, but I could have disguised a part of my thoughts, had my intentions consented: Heavens! cried Marcellus, interrupting the Princess; Gods! is it possible this should be true? if you still love me, replied Julia, it becomes you not to doubt it; and if I do not really affect you, do you know any reason can oblige me, to seek my justification in fiction and Artifice? What, said the Prince wholly transported, is then all I observed of disdain to me, and love to Coriolanus proved a Deceptio visus? I have said enough, said the Princess with a discontented look to oblige your belief, and after so ingenious a confession, which possible I have made with too little Decorum, you deem it not fit to part with your erroneous opinion, my interest in you is not strong enough to render me guilty of a farther obstinacy.  
At these words she made an offer to rise from her seat, but the passionate Marcellus staying her by the Robe, Madam, said he, pardon this incredulity and distrust to the weakness of my spirit, and be pleased to believe, that to pass from the sad condition in which some of the latest moments saw me plunged, to that wherein your pity has now stated me, is not a thing so light and trivial to be comprehended by my soul without astonishment; the opinion of my disaster was settled too strongly there, to go out without violence; nor is it only the height of that happiness you restore me, that dazzles my belief,— come, no more, said Julia, I would have you efface the memory of what is past, as I have done those impressions that obliged me to use you so unkindly; I will henceforth shape my belief and actions, said the Prince, to the perfect rule of your will, and since the visits I have made the Princess Cleopatra, as a Sister, have given you some Ombrage, I vow henceforth no more to see her; but when you shall permit me to pay my friendship in good offices to her, what his hopes may challenge from our amity: No, said Julia, I desire not to tie you to such strict conditions, and since the apparent discovery of the truth, has cleared up the clouds of my suspicion against Cleopatra, I do not only vote the continuance of your customary visits, but, to dissipate all your distrusts with mine, I will join my forces with yours to advance Coriolanus in her estimation.  
If there had been great store of persons in the Princess Chamber that must have been Witnesses to the action, Mercellus had thrown himself at her feet, to pay the hasty oblations of his thanks for the favour she had done him; and whether he gave an entire credit to her words, or was assisted by the grandeur of his passion to deceive himself, and confute his former opinion, that Julia loved Coriolanus, he remained so perfectly satisfied as he could scarce find words to express his contentment: This encounter above all the rest, instructed me in the blindness of amorous Passionists, and though I believe that Julia did, repent her inconstancy, and really renewed her love to Marcellus, (had not that Prince who in all Essays beside, had ever an excellent wit and a clear judgement at command, been so powerfully prepossessed) he would never have suffered himself to be abused, by the reasons she suborned for her justification. Whatever it was, he concluded that the happiest day that ever increased his age, and Julia contributing all that depended on her, entirely to settle his repose: Marcellus began to live with her as he was accustomed, and all the sprightly marks of his satisfaction came back into his visage.  
This highly pleased the Emperor, and spread an universal joy through the whole Court, for that Prince was so generally beloved, as there were few persons of importance that appeared not interessed in his good or ill fortune: not but Julia's deportment did often furnish him with occasions of relapsing into some of his discontents: the Princess was ever excessively forward and frank in her behaviour, of a free and confident humour, beyond the common rule, observed by persons of her condition, she put nothing either in her looks or language, to repulse presumption; and if her beauty had charms enough to set a whole world on fire with affection, she wanted that severe gravity, which should have taught them fear that attempted it, nor did she pattern the haughty garb of persons born to an equal Dignity, by affecting a redoubted Majesty in her looks, but rather made choice of an attractive sweetness, and was never better pleased, than by discerning that she drew the hearts as well as the eyes of all that saw her; her easy access lent confidence to many persons, (when other reasons refused it) to unmask their passion, and if they reaped no other fruit from these attempts, at least their discovery met no rigour from the Princess. Many Sons of Kings, and Kings themselves, that were either Allies or Tributaries to the Empire, and then resident at Rome, did an amorous homage to her Beauty: but the consideration they kept for Marcellus, whose credit was able to ruin their affairs with Caesar, and his virtue all their thoughts, that might displease him, made them chain up a part of their resentments: Julia, whose nimble eye saw their thoughts through the Mask, was willing to allow them kind looks in exchange, and sometimes treated them so obligingly, as Marcel us could not support it, without entering into sensible displeasures, and uttering most passionate complaints, which Julia sometimes heard with patience, but at others would fly in Choler, and once, as she ever wanted a bridle to her thoughts.  
Marcellus, said she, were I always obliged to be thus enslaved to your Capriccios, I should esteem myself most unhappy; I love you, and you ought to believe so, since there is no reason to persuade me to speak it, unless it were true, but I will not have my affection so foolish to do violence upon my humour, and you ought to be satisfied that I love you without restraining my disposing power, to that esteem which I owe to persons of merit. Marcellus durst no more than shake his head at this language, and she often brought him to his knees for pardon, and made him do many a days Penance for crossing her humour; but in effect she loved him, and valuing him alone above all the rest together, at last she released herself entirely to him, and by the frequent testimonies of her love, against which, the Soul of Marcellus had no Rampire, she left no place in his breast to shelter Jealousy, and, to complete the cure of that which referred to my Master, she often spoke to Cleopatra in his favour, always took his part against Tiberius, and appeared not less concerned than Marcellus, in his hopes of happiness by that Princess affection: upon these terms were Marcellus and Julia, when we returned to Rome, and my Master had the story at length from the mouth of his friend, which his Letter had succinctly and but confusedly told him.  
In the mean time all things were prepared for the ruin of my Master's pretences, and Tiberius, by the assistance of Livia, had made his party so strong with Augustus, as he searce harboured any doubt of Cleopatra's possession: the very next day after our arrival, the Empress went to visit her in her lodgings (a strain beyond the maxims of her ordinary gravity, which did not often permit her consent to those civilities) and having found her in her Chamber in company of some Ladies that often haunted it, after she had saluted her in an imperious fashion. I am come to see you, said she, as well to testify the esteem and affection I have for you, as to tell you some news, which, if you receive with an apprehension suited to former appearances, must needs rejoice you: the Princess presently perceived Livia's design, and understood it with displeasure; but as she was advised by divers reasons, to avoid all occasions of disobliging her, she compelled her thoughts to a respective answer, and endeavouring to expect her resentment of Livia's condescension; Madam, said she, I am sensible, as I ought, of the favour wherewith you have honoured me, and with a due respect shall welcome the news you are pleased to bring, with assurance, that I can learn nothing from your mouth, but what must be glorious for me, and worthy of your own bounty. Though I have promised it for news, added the Empress, after she had taken a seat, 'tis no more but the confirmation of a thing which you know already, I need not say, 'tis my desire you should call me Mother, since you are not now to understand it, not tell you that the Emperor does encourage the hopes of Tiberius, for report has spread it wide enough; but I will assure you, that his heart did never hatch a desire so passionate, and he resolved it so firmly, as nothing will be capable to divert him. The Daughter of Antony was mortally afflicted at this discourse, but not willing to study long for a reply; Madam, said she, this is not the day, wherein Caesar and yourself first began to oblige me with your bounty, but though I confess you tender me a most advantageous fortune, yet I have learned to hope from your goodness, that you will not resolve to appoint me my Destiny, without giving me the privilege of a free suffrage for my own disposal.  
The Emperor did believe, replied Livia, you were to rational to disapprove his design, to wed you to my Son, and he has judge● Tiberius considerable enough by his birth, the qualities of his Person, and the grandeur of his actions, to win your consent without other assistance, which you will possibly accord to the honour he has of so near and so great an alliance. I consider Tiberius, replied Cleopatra, both as the Son of the Empress my Sovereign, and as a Prince that merits a greater fortune; but he must very highly oblige me, to conquer my consent by his services, rather than by the authority of those persons, who have an absolute puissance over me: Is it possible, answered Livia, that since Tiberius resigned you his liberty, he has not deserved your acceptance, nor avow of his services? and has so unluckily misspent his industry for many years, that it cannot pay the purchase of what we desire? he has merited much more than what you are pleased to mention, answered Cleopatra; but if he has not yet obtained that, I must call it an effect of my mishap, and not his, since having guided my apprehension with yours, to the survey of all those advantages he possesses, it has only taught me highly to esteem, and truly respect him, without leaving the impression of a particular desire, of a farther submission to his. This discourse extremely nettled the Empress, who is the proudest Princess upon earth, and not able to dissemble it: It is indeed an effect of your unhappiness, said she, rather than that of Tiberius, which has given you this repugnance against him, and had he taken the counsel of his Mother, and his nearest friends, he would doubtless have addressed his thoughts to some other place, that might have invited him with more advantage to his fortune: not that you possess not a large portion of nature's fovours, nor that your birth is not illustrious; but the Destinies have not favoured your family, and as your condition is now placed, without an extraordinary indulgence of fortune, you could not rationally raise your hopes so high as Tiberius is able to place you.  
Cleopatra felt herself stung with these words, but she had power enough left to tame her displeasure to this calm and untroubled answer: the Son of the Empress, my Lady and Mistress, may doubtless raise his aims to such pretences, as are better conformed to his fortunes, than those he has had for relics of such a downfall house as ours, but the son of Drusus had not possible offended his ambition, by Courting the Daughter of Antony and Cleopatra, and though Fate has used us cruelly, the memory of that alliance betwixt Caesar and Antony, is yet too fresh to leave the Parents of Tiberius any blushes at his desire to mingle with our blood; nor would I be understood, Madam, as if I thought not myself bound to the care you have taken to remove his affection, and since in your judgement as well as mine, I am unworthy of that condition, to which Tiberius would raise me, I should be deeply indebted to your goodness, would you direct him to some other choice, that might better know how to merit and acknowledge it.  
Were his obedience in my power, answered the choleric Empress, do not doubt but it should be heartily employed as you would have it: but since the Emperor is pleased to favour Tiberius, or rather you, in the thoughts he has for him, it would be as hard for me to reverse the resolutions he has taken, probably for your sake more than his, as I find it impossible to vanquish the blind passion of my Son: In the mean time, I hope you conform yours to the will of those you ought to obey; and I advise you for your own Interest, as well as ours, to make this just aversion the Trophy of your reason. I shall ever be ready, replied the Princess, vexed at these words, to render Caesar what is only his due from my fortune, and not my birth; but his generosity bids me hope, that he will offer no violence to the inclinations of a Princess, who is born of a blood too noble to be forced: I join my hopes with yours, said the Empress, rising from her seat, and I think you are more discreet than to stay till you are driven to what, you ought to run after.  
Finishing these words with a cold countenance, she went out of the Chamber, without permitting Cleopatra to attend her to her own.  
She was no sooner gone from the Princess, but my Master came in, to whom she punctually related all the discourse that passed betwixt them; Coriolanus admired the great spirit and Courage of that young Lady, and, esteeming himself too glorious by the perseverance she armed in his behalf, against the authority of such puissant persons, he threw himself at her feet, and there paid her all his thanks in such terms, as clearly expressed the grandeur of his passion: But their discourse was cut off by the importunate arrival of Tiberius to whom the Princess (in spite of her hatred) was constrained to give civil reception: the two Rivals beheld each other with thoughts little different, though their exterior demonstrations were unequal, Tiberius, the greatest dissembler of all men, looked smoothly enough upon Coriolanus; but that Prince, who ever wore his heart upon his tongue and his face, not only received him coldly, but plainly told him with his eye, that the sole consideration of Cleopatra stopped his resentments from breaking out into other language: the rest of that day was spent by the two Princes, in debarring each other the pleasing liberty of entertaining Cleopatra, but in this mutual hindrance, each took an equal satisfaction from the requital of his enemy's malice.  
Tiberius was sad at the sight of his disadvantage in Cleopatra's affection, but he had the absolute powers on his side; and my Master, whose hopes they thwarted, often took fresh comfort in the renewed assurance of his Princess good will, and thus some days passed away, during which, the two Rivals daily encountered in their visits; but if several considerations held their hands, it was with so much violence as there was great cause to fear they would have come at last to extremities, if those meetings had continued.  
But Tiberius perceiving how slowly the authority of those persons that supported him, drove on his amorous design, pressed the Empress with so much importunity, and Livia wrought so powerfully with Augustus in her Son's behalf, as, after she had combated the remains of some repugnance that she found in the Emperor's spirit, at last she so perfectly reduced his will to her own disposal, as the Princess Cleopatra, and the Prince my Master, received upon the same day a command from Caesar no more to see each other; these two persons born to a Courage that could not easily brook a Tyrannic authority, accepted the message with an animosity that showed it at the height, though the Princess curbing her anger with a feminine modesty; received it with more moderation of the two, and only returned this answer to Julius Norbanus, who brought her the Order; I know what kind of submission I owe to the will of Caesar, and since by the fall of our house, which he has ruined, fortune has displaced me under his authority, he may forbid me the sight of Coriolanus, but all the puissance he has, cannot from preferring him before Tiberius.  
Coriolanus gave loser reins to his Impatience, and when Marcus Piso, to whom the Emperor had given the charge, had delivered him his Command, all the fear he could admit of so absolute a power was too weak to keep the Lists against his Choler, and regarding Piso with an eye wherein it was painted all in flames, You may tell Caesar, said he, that though my Father's misfortune has bowed our Estates under the yoke of his Empire, the Soul of his Son has put on none of his chains, nor has he power enough complexed within the utmost Lines of his Empire, to fright me from the service of Cleopatra, no nor the sight neither, so long as I am forbidden by no other impediment but the fear of countervening his Orders; I have blood running in my Veins that methinks should oblige him to sweeten his Commands and a proportion of Courage to my birth, which he has acknowledged in the occasions of his service: if he will needs bereave me of the sight of Cleopatra, let him take my life too; and if he desires to give her quietly into Tiberius' arms, without a contest, while he labours his repose, let him provide for that of his own Estate, in cutting off a man that in part may chance to disturb it, if his rigorous usage once provokes him to resume the quarrel of his Fathers. Besides these, his passion broke loose into other words, which had they been carried to his ear, might well have exasperated the Emperor: but Piso, who was none of his Enemy, instead of taking hold of that occasion to do him an injury, strained his endeavours to appease the storms he had, raised, but he thrived so ill in his friendly design, as doubtless he had parted with little satisfaction, had not Marcellus arrived, in whose hands he left him to lay the Tempest; Marcellus had gathered part of the truth from some Court whisperers, and no sooner entered my Master's Chamber, but saw it all confirmed by the posture wherein he found him; my Master walked a great pace about the Chamber with such troubled looks and distracted thoughts, as they scarce suffered him to see his friend when he entered, or almost know him when he was there; Marcellus accosted him with a visage that raised more clouds to enrage the storm, but no sooner opened his mouth to speak, when my Prince prevented him: Brother, said he, after the hiding my Irons within the outside of good use, at last I am treated like a Slave, and the Emperor no more remembers that I am newly come from letting out Brooks of his Enemy's blood, and spilling mine own for his service; he forbids me the sight of Cleopatra, and yet leaves me two Eyes, which in spite of all the temptations of other objects, will doom themselves to a perpetual Eclipse, if they may not have leave to behold my Princess; shall I give up that into Tiberius' arms, which I hold of your amity? resign my right to my cruelest Enemy, which I would not release to my dearest friend? No, Tiberius, pursued he, do not look for an effect of my obedience so base and timorous, and if thou borrowest thy expectations of enjoying Cleopatra from my obsequy to their Commands that support thee against me, condemn those hopes for Impostors: I can tear out thy heart with greater ease, than rend the Image of Cleopatra from mine own, and thou wilt have a harder task to rob my eyes of my Princess, than me of a life, which must ever oppose the felicity of thine.  
He still went on in this language, full of transport, before Marcellus deemed it fit to interrupt him, but when he perceived the heat of his passion begin to waste itself to a better temper, he came to him, and taking him in his arms, with a most tender affection: My dear Brother, said he, besides the grief that I equally share with yourself, for the ill success of your affairs, I feel a displeasure only proper to Marcellus, that you have this day received one from a person, against whom I cannot join with your resentments, as I would do to oppose the whole remainder of mankind, had I not cause to regard Caesar as my Master, I would not stay to balance a thought before I declared myself his Enemy; but you know I owe for all to his blood and affection, that I rather respect him as my Father, than my Emperor, and that to me he is far less considerable in his power, than his goodness; yet Livia has overpowered me in his thoughts, and now I perceive, my credit will be but vainly employed in the advancement of your desires, though it is not too feeble to promote other affairs, that are less to my wishes; nevertheless whatever veneration I owe to the Person and Interests of the Emperor, I will never consent so to soothe his humour, as not to appear your friend against Tiberius and his Enemy, in all those encounters that shall prove him yours. After this protestation, Dear Brother, take it not ill if I entreat you a little to curb these distempers of your reason, that flow from the sense of this mishap, your affairs are not yet near the confines of despair, for since you still hold your right in Cleopatra's breast, there is a possibility left of reversing the Emperor's decree in Tiberius' favour, if you cut it not off by a violent and unweighed proceeding to Extremities; we will press the Princess Julia, who appears passionate for your Interests, upon your service with the Emperor; the Princess Octavia my Mother, I know will assist her, and Agrippa, the powerfullest of all persons with Augustus, has promised to act in your behalf, so as Tiberius must make a strong party with Caesar, to frustrate all our attempts upon this resolution; in the mean time Cleopatra, whom the same order which she but now received, has equally afflicted with yourself, is resolved to forsake the Empresses Palace, and retire to her old lodgings (which she knows she may still call her own) at my Mother's house, and I have advised her to demand permission this very day to make her retreat: when she is once settled with Octavia, we may plot a thousand ways unknown to the Emperor, to bring you together, in the mean while, the Gods may possible start occasions from the womb of Time, that they may chalk you out a path to happiness.  
Marcellus spoke more to this purpose, which indeed gave my Master some comfort, and in part reduced him to allow his desires; and to credit some of his words, the same day at Cleopatra's earnest entreaty, Octavia begged leave of the Emperor her Brother, that she might for a time retire to her house. And though Livia, in effect opposed her demand, yet Augustus respecting that Sister of his (whose rare virtues had spread their lustre o'er the world) too well to refuse her a request so reasonable, and of so small an importance. Cleopatra was remitted into the hands of Octavia as her Mother, (for she not only carried the name, but tenderly discharged the office) and that very night followed her home from the Court.  
Tiberius' impatiently supported Cleopatra's retreat, to a house that he held suspected, but was pacified by a promise of Livia, to importune the performance of Caesar's so effectually, as all the blocks his Enemies had thrown in his way, should turn to their confusion: in the mean time he often visited the Princess at Octavia's house, where, by the Emperor's order, he was very civilly received: my Master too, notwithstanding the Imperial Command to the contrary, frequently saw her, yet only at such hours when the house was clear of Visitants, in a private closet of Octavia's, and always in company of Marcellus Sisters; though the Mother, for fear of incensing the Emperor, feigned an ignorance of their interviews.  
There did my Master charm his discontents with the sweet converse of his Princess, and the dear assurance she gave him of an unfading fidelity; the Daughters of Octavia, as well those two she had by her Husband Marcellus, as the other two she bore to Anthony, most officiously laboured their Sister's content, and by their assistance the Prince enjoyed some hours in her Society, and banqueted his senses with sweets enough to encounterpoize his displeasures: but Tiberius and Livia were persons of too quick an eye, and too nimble a suspicion to stay long without piercing the disguise, they began with conjectures, and at last discovered a part of the Truth, which nettled Livia so sensibly, as after she had loudly complained of the abuse to Caesar, at last she gained his consent to force Cleopatra's, and caused him to send her a peremptory Order, to dispose herself within a few days to Espouse Tiberius. This Command broke like a Thunderclap upon the Princess, and left her no sense of any thing else but her grief, for the space of a whole day, which after she had distilled in tears through her eyes, and expressed her horror of Augustus' Tyranny, in terms full of Choler, at the next visit she made him, she turned the tide of it upon Tiberius, and regarding him with eyes inflamed by a just indignation; Think not, said she, to draw any advantage from the violence you force upon me; you should strive to win me, not by power and oppression, but your services, but remember I inherit the blood and name of her, that knew how to snatch an Antidote from death, against the malice of her fortune, and you shall sooner see me follow the Queen my Mother's example, than basely submit to such a Tyranny,  
Tiberius was startled at this language, but a short reflection helped him to believe that it proceeded from the first motive, and endeavoured (though in vain) with all the gentlest words that love could invent, to comfort the Princess.  
In the meantime Marcellus, Octavia, and Julia herself, fell at Caesar's feet, to deprecate and reverse the sentence he pronounced in Tiberius' favour, but that was not the first time he made it known, his Resolutions could not yield to the battery of Entreaties, those persons as dear to Augustus as any the world could show, forgot to urge nothing that might probably obtain the effect of their Petition; but all their endeavours were lavished in vain, the inflexible Emperor alleged the pawn of his promise to Tiberius with so much vehemence, as nothing could have power to revoke it, and instead of being touched with the solicitations of his kindred, growing angry at the entreaties they opposed to his will, openly swore, that Tiberius within eight days should Espouse Cleopatra, and no importunity whatever should win his consent to a longer delay.  
You may easier imagine, than I present, how deeply my Master was struck at this cruel news, all that Grief, Choler, and Despair could produce, was found in his Soul, appeared in his words, and started from all his actions to such a degree, as that affection he had ever allowed me above the rest that were brought up in his service, could not assure me so much Courage as to speak to him; you see that lovely sweetness that now speaks itself in his face and discourse, but I can assure you that I never beheld any thing so terrible as he then appeared, and that Marcellus, and only Marcellus durst assume the boldness to speak to him, however all the reasons he alleged to reclaim his passion were sown in sand, and maugre his advice, and that of all his friends, he immediately resolved to go and present himself to the Emperor (whom he had not seen since he forbade him the sight of Cleopatra) and complain to himself of the injustice he had done him; Marcellus unable to divert, was resolved to accompany him, not fearing to incur any disgrace with Augustus, for owning his Interest in such a friend; with Marcellus, young Ptolomee the Son of Anthony, and Cleopatra, and an illustrious Company of the noblest among the Romans would needs follow him, and with that proud train he audaciously appeared at the Palace, where the common discourse treated of no other subject, but his disgrace, or at least the advantages his Rival had gotten: upon the top of the stairs that lead to the Emperor's lodgings, he encountered Tiberius, who was newly parted thence, and followed by numbers not inferior to his, with a pride in his looks that expressed the success of his design. Coriolanus changed colour at that encounter, and had not Marcellus with held him by urging the regard that belonged to the place, he had doubtless been transported to some violent attempt upon his Rival, nor could he so moderate the agitations of his anger, but in the very middle of his guard he aborded him, and taking hold of his hand, which he pressed in his, with an action wholly furious: Remember Tiberius, said he, it is the advantage of thy services and thy arms wherewith thou art only bound to despoil me of Cleopatra, if thou art able, and that all other ways are base and unworthy of thy Courage.  
Tiberius was going to reply, and doubtless had done it very sharply, if Maecenas, who with divers other persons came then from the Emperor, had not thrown himself between them, and obliged Marcellus to conduct my Master into the presence, while he forcibly lead away Tiberius to another quarter of the Palace: Coriolanus entered the Emperor's Chamber, with that fair number of his friends behind him, and Augustus, who had seen him of a time, and who inwardly felt some reproaches of conscience for the injuries he had done him, was a little surprised at the sight of his reproach in so fierce and hardy a Garb: Coriolanus came up to him with as much assurance, as if he had then newly returned in Triumph from a fresh victory upon the Asturians, and owning no notice of the trouble that appeared in Augustus' visage: Sir, said he, I should forbear to present myself before you, after these effects of my mischievous fortune, that has betrayed me to the forfeiture of these precious affections, wherewith you have heretofore been pleased to honour me; but since it is only my misfortune, or rather, my Enemy's happiness, that have ravished it from me, that I feel no remorse of any action, that might draw your indignation upon me; and in fine, am no less innocent, than when you thought me fit for the honour of employment in your service, I will not fear to appear before the face of Caesar, to receive from his mouth either a new patent for my life, or the final sentence of my ruin; Caesar, they are both in thy imperial hands: if I be worthy of Death, I here present my criminal head to your Justice; but if I have no way sinned to the desert of your anger, you cannot take away Cleopatra from me: it was from your consent in my budding years, that I drew the encouragement of my boldness to serve her, and only upon your parole, I credited my hopes to possess her, I have since done nothing that can make you repent your first bounties, and though I am forbidden by your order the sight of Cleopatra, and that Princess be commanded to Espouse Tiberius, I found it hard to believe, my Lord, that for my sake only, you could offer violence to that delight, which you ever took in doing Justice, and consent to doom a Prince to so cruel a Death, who has never appeared ingrateful to your bounty, nor ever spared his blood, when you gave him leave to hazard it for your Quarrel.  
Coriolanus spoke in this manner, and though Augustus was not well pleased with his Carriage, yet the esteem, he ever cherished for generous persons, helped him to digest the liberty of his language, and preserve a part of those thoughts unruined, which he entertained to his advantage; but, being resolved to be absolute in his Empire, and judging the proceedings of Coriolanus had shocked authority, held up the same severity that appeared at the first blush in his visage, and taking the word as soon as Coriolanus was come to his Period: I declared my intentions plainly enough, said he, without leaving a necessity to you for repairing to my mouth for a further Explication; and you understood it too well before, to find a present Excuse for your disobedience, you knew it was my resolution to give Cleopatra to Tiberius, and to make you no contemptible portion of those Crowns which your Father lost by the Law of Arms, yet without considering that by an excess of bounty I have done more for you than I ought, you have despised my offers and opposed my will, I could make it appear that it is in my power to make you know your duty; but I have endured the faults you have committed, for Marcellus, and my Sister Octavia's sake, who interess themselves more than becomes them, in your behalf; and, in consideration of them, though you have ingratefully abused the gift I have proffered, I am yet willing to restore you Mauritania under a tribute, upon condition you murmur no more, and (in lieu of the condescension you are to receive of our bounty) from this very moment, totally release all your pretences of Cleopatra.  
At this Discourse of Augustus (any of a lower spirit than my Masters, might have timorously taken an occasion to be satisfied) Coriolanus appeared to the eyes of all the beholders, so inflamed with Choler, as he found it impossible for all the temper and moderation he could make, to check it.  
Sir, said he, it was no other than my Father's lot in War, that made you a claim to my obedience, which you exact of me, as from the meanest Citizen among the Romans; I am descended of a regal stock, which before the luckless chance of Juba, never gave precedency to any, the unkindness of his fortune has reduced me to suffer all things from those she has made our Masters; but she has not abased my Courage to make me accept a present from you, after the receipt of such unworthy usage; you have not a reward in all your Dominions, that, in the meanest degree, can weigh against the worth of that Princess you have taken from me, and if ever the Gods grow willing that I reascend the throne of my Fathers, I shall find some other steps to mount it, than by the liberality of a man, who contrary to his promise, has deprived me of a Gem a thousand times more precious than all that he is capable of giving: I refuse, despise your offer, and instead of disclaiming (as you would have it) my right to Cleopatra, I do here declare, that unless you remove my life out of his way, there is not a man upon earth shall possess her.  
These words, (bold beyond all expectation, and parting from the mouth of a man, whose despair had extinguished his desire to live) fired the Soul of Augustus with a rage so impetuous, as, furiously rising from his seat, he was infallibly about to pronounce some dreadful Sentence against my Master, if Marcellus on one side, and Agrippa on the other, had not hastily fallen at his feet, and straight embracing his knees, conjured him to forgive the transports of a desperate man, and rather impose the punishment he deserved, upon them, than let the effects of his resentments fall heavy upon their friend.  
Augustus, who in himself excused a Passion, that seldom leaves us the use of reason, when it rushes to such extremities, seeing two men at his feet, which he tendered as much as himself, began to cool in his fury, and turning his eyes from my Master's face, for fear it should reinflame him; Let him live, said he; since you desire it, but immediately get him out of our sight, and depart Rome within three days, if he has no mind to die an ignominious death.  
My Master had no time to understand these last words, to which he had infallibly replied, whatever peril had menaced him, for before Caesar was come to his period, Marcellus and Agrippa, clapping hold of him on either side, had almost drawn him by force out of the Chamber, for fear his answer should wind up the Emperor's choler, so high, as would pose all their power to appease it.  
When my Master was gone out of the presence, Marcellus, Agrippa, and the rest of his friends, deeply afflicted at this disaster, and not knowing which way to reverse the Emperor's orders, appeared with a greater dejection, than doubtless they would have showed for their proper Interest; but Coriolanus reading their troubles in their looks, and slighting that which instructed their friendship to admit fear in his behalf, after he had regarded them with a confident eye, Let not my destiny, said he, disquiet you, the Gods will take care of it, and possible mine own arm may assist their providence; 'tis Caesar's will that I go out of Rome, and I am resolved to obey him in such a manner, as perhaps he will quickly wish to see me again within the precinct of his walls.  
When his friends had conducted him home, he there passed away the rest of the day, and though by Marcellus' means, he might have seen Cleopatra in the Evening, he was so sensible of his own distemper, as he would not appear before her in that condition: Marcellus was much to seek for advice to give him, and only contented himself to tell him, that his Interests should ever lie in an equal balance with his own, and that he would not stick to serve him in all occasions, and against all sorts of Enemies, only the Emperor's sacred person excepted, as that of his Father and his Benefactor. Though my Master could not distrust Marcellus, yet he thought it not fit to unmask his intentions to him, supposing by the advice of divers reasons, he would strive to dissuade the resolution he had taken, and the next day knowing that Tiberius was gone to see Cleopatra, in Vesta's Temple, who there assisted at some Sacrifices with Octavia, and divers other Roman Ladies, he went thither with the young Prince Ptolomee, followed by those of his friends that came to visit him at his rising; all those that saw him enter the Temple, discovered in his face a large part of his inquietude, and passing by such of his acquaintance with a furious look, as stood in his way, without lending the least regard to any, he went and placed himself right against Cleopatra, not far from Tiberius, who retired his eyes from the Princess, where they had been tasting some rarities, to fix them upon his with a Countenance, wherein I read the Contents of trouble enough; my Master made choice of that sacred place to speak to him, well knowing that he could not have taken the same liberty in any other, and that all the Romans were so well instructed in their difference, as their Discourse would have been cut off at the first encounter; at first Coriolanus for a time seriously beheld Cleopatra, and she often answered his regards with some of her own, that were very advantageous and obliging; but the Prince, feigning that he was not advanced far enough to take a free and easy view of her, he quitted the place where he stood, and went up to Tiberius. Tiberius' stayed for him in his station, without the loss of any assurance, and when my Master came near him, joining his cheek to his, that he might not be heard by those that encompassed them: Tiberius, said he, do not hope to possess Cleopatra, while I am on this side my Tomb, 'tis a fortune that will not be peaceably enjoyed, till thou hast fought with me, and cut me from the world; my birth is no way inferior to thine, and my former actions may happily invite thee to gain an improvement of glory upon me; the Weapons are at thy choice, the place of Combat at thy disposal, and if thou hast a Courage worthy to serve Cleopatra, sure thou wilt as readily facilitate the means of this personal decision as possible.  
That shall be done, replied Tiberius, with an untroubled look, when I am possessed of Cleopatra, and till than I will not distrub so near a happiness to content thy despair; but when I once can call her mine, I shall greedily embrace all occasions to preserve a treasure, of which thy death must assure me; nor will I then refuse any sort of arms, place, or kind of Combat to satisfy thy passion and mine: if thou stayest for the enjoyment of Cleopatra, replied my Prince before our trial, thou wilt never see the time thou hast appointed, and this excuse thou hast found to defer the Combat, is base and unbecoming a person of Courage; for shame do not ask the delay of an action that carries an undispensible necessity: and since thou seest that I yet keep the highway of honour, do not provoke that despair wherewith thou upbraidest me, to seek some private path to thy Destruction: Were I as distractedly perplexed, answered Tiberius, and as near my ruin as thou art, 'tis likely I might leap the same precipice; but as my affairs are now tempered, I am resolved to seek my own ends as well as thine; and though my desire of Combat be as hot as any thy heart can hold, thou wilt hope it but in vain, till three days after our Nuptials.  
Is that thy last resolution, said Coriolanus allin a flame? Yes, replied Tiberius, and if thou dost not hurt thy destruction too hastily, thou wilt press me no further. And here I protest by all the Gods that hear us, replied the furious Coriolanus, before the dawning Marriage day, though guarded by all the puissance of the Empire, thou shalt die by this hand.  
After he had pronounced these words, he went out of the Temple with such a Tempest in his looks, as affrighted all those that met him in his passage.  
He retired to his Chamber, but stayed not there; for fear the words he exchanged with Tiberius, being carried to Augustus' ear, might bring a sudden Siege of the Emperor's guards about his Lodgings, and so despoil him of the means to execute his intentions: in homage to these thoughts, he mounted presently on horseback, and taking no person with him but myself, we got out of Rome through some blind unfrequented streets, and in stead of keeping the highway, we crossed over the fields to a little Village, to which we made our retreat, where my Master resolved to stay the remainder of that day, and the night following.  
There did he pass away that whole time, in the strangest condition that ever I beheld, and all those reasons which from the affection he had ever showed me, I took the liberty to urge, could not draw him to so much as a moment's truce with his furious thoughts. Thou shalt die, said he, thou insolent Rival, Savage Enemy, and all the Tyrannic puissance of those that support thee against me, shall not guard thee from the hands of a desperate Lover; that very despair, late a subject of thy mockery, may prove more terrible than all the power of Augustus; the Marriage thou believest so near, does doubtless keep a remoter distance than the death I intent, which I will either give thee, or receive at thy hands in such terms as honour shall appoint; and yet since those are rejected by thee, think it not strange if I seek out others, that may lawfully serve my resentments.  
Such discourses as these, with thoughts of the same alliance, swallowed the whole night, and the next morning without imparting any other Command than follow him, we remounted our Horses, and bend our course back to the City.  
By this time nothing made so great a noise at Rome as the Marriage between Tiberius and Cleopatra, all things were provided there for the solemnities, and the preparation advanced so far, as none doubted but three or four days would consummate it, in vain Cleopatra had deeply protested her aversion to espouse Tiberius, in vain engaged Octavia, Marcellus, with the rest of her friends, most powerful with Augustus, since all their entreaties did rather obdurate than soften his obstinacy; for the same day we went to the Village, he came himself to speak with Cleopatra, and in spite of all the Rhetoric of her Grief and Reason, expressed in tears and words, he redoubled his command in so absolute a manner, to prepare herself within three days to tie the knot with Tiberius, as she lost all hope of obtaining milder conditions; I know not how her resolution was then tempered, but she has since deeply vowed to my Master, she would rather have taken a Dispensation from Death, than give her consent to this Marriage, whatever Discretion stood before at the Helm of her words and actions, all could not now hinder her from appearing desperate, Marcellus was torn upon the Rack of a violent grief, Octavia most excessively afflicted, and Tiberius with his party sung their Triumphant Io's in the forward expectation of a happiness, which he was not too well assured of.  
This was the constitution of affairs when we entered Rome, and advanced towards the Lodgings of Tiberius, at the hour he was accustomed to go wait upon the Emperor at his rising, my Master had the same Horse under him which he charged upon in the last Battle against the Asturians, one of the strongest, fiercest, and fairest in the world, and chosen by him as the fittest in all his stable, for the execution of that hardy design which then busied his thoughts: we had twice past by the corner of a Street, where we waited the coming out of Tiberius, when at last he appeared, as my Master expected him, he was mounted upon a little white Nag, with a rich Caparison embroidered with Gold, and set with Jewels that trailed after him upon the ground, Gaius Drusus his Brother, and Marcus Sulpitius, rode on either side of him upon two Nags of the same stature, after them followed a large train of people on foot, as well Servants as free Persons, that sawned upon the fortunes of Tiberius, with a servile complacence: my Master no sooner spied Tiberius, but without spending a thought upon the numbers that followed him, he snatched out his Sword, and spurring up to him with a swiftness comparable to lightning; Behold Tiberius, cried he, see here the Bridal I prepare thee, he had scarce finished these few words, when he joined up to him, and though Tiberius had been allowed leisure to get out his Sword, the assault of my Master was so prompt and impetuous, as before his Enemy could put himself in a posture of defence, he was quite run through the body by Coriolanus, and tumbled all bloody in the midst of his men; but if his Sword overthrew Tiberius, the shock of his Horse at the same time did no less to Drusus, and perceiving Sulpitius had got his Sword in his hand, and lifted it up to oppose his passage, by a sudden blow with the Edge of his, he sent it to the Earth with the hand that held it amongst the horse feet; after this prompt Execution, he easily opened himself a path through those that were on foot, among which he found none hardy enough to oppose his fury, and though we met at the end of the Street with some Praetorian Bands that were going to relieve the Emperor's guard, my Master broke through them like a Thunderbolt, encountering no resistance that had power to arrest him: so few endeavoured to stop my Carrier, as I found it not hard to follow him at the heels, besides, I was mounted upon so gallant a horse, as it would not have proved an easy task to have taken me.  
You have astonished me, said Tyridates, with the recital of so grand a daring, and though I have listened to the piece of your story, as a thing prodigious, yet I cannot forbear to interrupt it, with the tender of such praises as his bravery has highly merited: I ought not, replied Emilius, to disclaim the glory of my Master's actions, and yet in that I must acknowledge, the depth of his Despair had as great a hand as the height of his courage, though the advantage of his horse, and the swiftness of the action acquainted him with less danger than his own imagination could fanoy, but my relation must now succeed to greater things, and so in the sequel draw to the end of this tedious Story.    

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA: OR, Love's Masterpiece. PART II.  
LIB. IV.  
ARGUMENT.  
Coriolanus flies with Hyppias and Lipsipus into Mauritania, where his Father's Subjects unanimously rise to recover his right, and their own liberty. He bravely defeats Canidius, Cecinna, Sillanus, Volusius, and Domitius Aenobarbus, in several battles. Totally reduces both the Mauritania 's, and is solemnly Crowned King. Leaves his new Subjects, and in disguise of a private man, goes to meet Cleopatra at Syracuse; she bitterly upbraids him with Disloyalty and Ingratitude, which throws him into a Fever. He is taken Prisoner by the Governor Lucius Varus, and is again set at liberty by Claudius Varus his Son, from thence he repairs to Alexandria in pursuit of his incensed Princess.  
WE got out of Rome with as much facility as we wished, and leaving the way that lead to Ostia on our left hand, we sought (not for the Village where we passed the precedent night) but for a house that stood remote for all highways, in a wood above 100 furlongs from Rome, which my Master had often seen when he was a hunting, and remembered it had sheltered him from divers storms, there he decreed to expect the approach of night, well knowing that after she had spread her shades, he might steal back into Rome; and because the City was vast, and the Inhabitants very numerous, he might hide himself there for divers days with more safety, than any of the adjacent places could promise him.  
We were no sooner got into the fields, when my Master stopping his horse, and turning towards me, with a look that acknowledged the satisfaction he took in the success of his enterprise: My Rival is dead, said he, or at least in too feeble a condition to rob me of Cleopatra, and now let the Gods do what they please with my destiny.  
I was so amazed at what I had lately seen, as, till than I had not the power to command a word, and though accustomed to see my Prince do great things, the suddenness of this last act so surprised me, as I had not time enough to recover the use of my reason; but when this discourse had a little dispelled the clouds of my amazement; 'Tis true Sir, said I, Tiberius is dead, and if my eye did not cozen me, I saw him in an estate to dishearten all hopes of recovery; but, my Lord, what meant you by all this? and what design do your thoughts now drive at? I meant, said Coriolanus, to free myself of a Rival that would have taken my life, to break this Marriage with Cleopatra, wherein I must have found my Sepulchre, and for the design thoughts are hatching, if they have but the luck to bring it forth, a few days will acquaint thee with it.  
This discourse, with others upon the same subject, held us play till we arrived at the house, where we alighted, yet still holding our Horses by the Bridles, and standing ready to make a sudden retreat upon the alarm of any noise that deserved suspicion, the night was no sooner come, but we mounted again, and taking a great compass, returned to the City, which we entered by a Gate that was very far from that we came out at, and passed through a blind Street to the House of one Strato a faithful Slave of my Masters, on whom, for some important service he had lately bestowed his liberty, with a bounteous Donative to support him in his free condition.  
To his House unknown to all the Court he rather chose to retire, than to any of his Friends, whose quality might engender suspicion; and so by sheltering him expose their Credit to ruin in the breast of Caesar.  
Strato, who with the rest of Rome, had learned the disaster of Tiberius, no sooner saw my Prince at the door, but throwing himself at his feet with all the motions of passionate loyalty, begged of him not only to dispose of the goods he held of his bounty, but employ his life too in the service of his designs. Coriolanus being entered the House, and having caused the Horses to be carried away, demanded news of Strato, what the City talked of his last action, how Caesar resented it, and how Tiberius fared: Strato, who was very discreet, and whose affection to his Master had carried him all that day about the City, to inform himself of things wherein it gave him so great an interest, presently told him that Tiberius was not dead, but almost past all hope of recovery, that Caesar had appeared transported with such an excess of fury, that he had not only sent vast numbers in his search, caused his Lodging to be seized, and confiscated all the goods he had at Rome, but proclaimed a promise of two hundred talents to any that could bring him his head, and one hundred to him that could detect the place of his residence.  
This Discourse awaked the Resentments of Coriolanus against the Emperor; He has reason, said he, to desire my ruin, and if he takes me from the world, he may possible free his apprehensions by that act of none of the meanest of his Enemies. Strato added, that Augustus had conceived so high a pique against all my Master's friends, as he would never since endure Marcellus, Agrippa, nor Octavia herself to come in his sight; and besides had made a promise to Livia, his revenge should reach to all those that could be proved accomplices in that action.  
After some other Discourse, in which my Master assured Strato he would trust him with his life, he got on horseback, and taking him along to the corner of a street near Marcellus his House, he commanded him to go thither, and endeavour to deliver his Message in private to the Prince, and conduct him to that place where he would wait his approach: Strato quitted himself of his commission so handsomely, as we had not stayed half an hour in the place where he left us, when we saw him return with Marcellus (without either Follower or Torch, but the light of the Moon, which was then at the full) on Horseback like us, with his face half muffled in a Cloak; he found my Master in the same estate, and no sooner came near him, but throwing his arms about his neck, as if some long time had crept between that and their last interview. Brother, said he, what have you done? to what a torment have you put me in behalf of your safety? I have done that, replied my Prince, which, were it undone, I would do again at the hazard of a thousand lives, and possible I have not yet done it to purpose, since Tiberius is still alive: Indeed he is not dead, answered Marcellus, but there is so little appearance left of Life, and his wound is proved so deep and dangerous, as none have yet seen it without despair: Do not then torment yourself, said Coriolanus, for my safety, my own hand has carved it for me in that action, nor should I ever have enjoyed it, had Tiberius espoused Cleopatra. I do not so much as pity that man, replied Marcellus, since his life was an Enemy to your repose; but how will you now dispose of your intentions? and what can we do for you in this Extremity, to which you have hurried your Affairs, if we were not able to serve you when they road at Anchor in a calmer Ocean? You shall do, replied Coriolanus, what you have ever done, still continue to love me, still assist me in the person and opinion of Cleopatra, and leave the rest to the conduct of the Gods, who will not abandon me, nor can they involve me in a worse condition than what this happy blow has so lately prevented: but do you believe yourself in any safety at Rome, added Marcellus? and though the vast extent of the City has often concealed other persons, do you think to defraud the diligence of so many spies, who are both Eyed and winged for a narrow search, by the promise of a rich reward for your discovery: For the time I intent to stay at Rome, replied Coriolanus, I hope to find it a safe retreat, and since I have employed the three days that Caesar gave me as my wish contrived it, I will now quit it without another displeasure, than those I resent it being divided from Cleopatra and Marcellus: In the mean time I shall find other places enough, that will lend me entertainment, and if I thrive in one design, perhaps I shall have no need to borrow it; I will only entreat the sight of Cleopatra, (which you may easily obtain in my behalf) once or twice before my parting, and then repose that dear trust, with some comfort in your hands, till the success of my affairs will restore her to my Eyes.  
Marcellus took some time to study upon this, and then taking the word; I believe, said he, since my Mother and all her family are at your devotion, you have no more to do but go to the little door at the brink of Tiber, which you are well acquainted with, and stay there till I bring you some news, I will come and open it myself, after I have spoke with Cleopatra and disposed her to meet you in the Garden.  
My Master finding this contrivance very expedient for his purpose, returned a thousand thanks to his friend, and giving him leave to go upon his own design, he released him upon promise to meet at the place appointed, and when we were got about an hundred paces from thence, he alighted, and commanding Strato to stay for him with the Horses in Mars' field, which was not far from thence, we walked upon the bank of Tiber, still expecting when the opening of the door should invite our approaches: indeed it cost us less patience than we appointed, and Marcellus, the most real, and therefore the most diligent of all his friends, in half an hours time made all things ready as my Master wished them. To make good his promise, himself opened us the door, and we were no sooner entered the Garden, but the light of the Moon showed us the Princess Cleopatra, followed by her Sister the Princess Antonia, youngest Daughter to Antony, and Octavia, with Camillia, the Darling of her Maids, going into one of the Arbours.  
Octavia had come herself, if the consideration of her Brother, and the Dignity of her own person, had not advised her to suborn ignorance to excuse it, Cleopatra was half undressed, and yet that disadvantage, by the help of an imperfect light, was not able to conceal her Beauty, nor did ever the Star that ruled at the interview, in all her Celestial travels behold a mortal beauty that could equal her.  
My Master no sooner came near, but falling at her feet, and embracing her knees; I ask your pardon my adorable Princess, said he, for what I have done to preserve you, and could I have kept you out of his power, without spilling the blood of a man that loved you, I would have bought off his loss at the expense of my own; but since there was no other way to save the life that is yours, and defend you from a yoke that would have been imposed against your consent, do not you still give me leave to appear in the dress of my former Innocence?  
The Princess took some time to answer my Master, when suddenly lifting up her head, and looking upon him with a languishing action; Ah Coriolanus, said she, how rash you have been! how well might you have spared me a displeasure, by curing our common misfortune with means less violent: If I thought you bemoaned the fate of Tiberius, replied my Prince, I could be content to retrieve his safety, by staking my life to the same danger that threatens his; my regret for Tiberius, said the Princess, stretches no farther, than because I love not blood, nor desire the death of my cruelest Enemies; you cannot but know that what you have done has made me a prey to very sensible perplexities, that yourself has robbed your own desires of the means to see me, and blocked up your way to the fruition of a happiness, which you aimed at in the death of your Rival: I am better acquainted with the dangees that menace you here, than to suffer your longer abode at Rome, and you know too well how dear you are to me, to ignore the grief that will gall me at our separation: I am willing to believe, that in your absence you will keep me that affection pure and undeflowred, which I preferred before the offers of Livia, and do still prise above all the gay things wherewith the world can tempt me; but what comfort can be left me in so cruel and dangerous an absence, in so sad an incertainty of your return: Besides, the merciless orders of Augustus will reach to all, and there are few corners of the Earth can hide you securely, so long as he is your Enemy: what shall become of me in these woeful apprehensions I shall suffer for you? and which of the Gods will promise me I shall ever be permitted to see you again? Heavens, pursued she, with some warm pearls that broke away from her fair eyes, did the faults of unfortunate Anthony and Cleopatra so highly incense you, as your pitiless anger must still pursue the relics of their deplorable family?  
A throng of sighs cut off the course of her words, and hindered the Princess from going on: Coriolanus, whatever share he went in her grief, took a marvellous comfort in those woeful proofs of her affection, which touched him so feelingly, as after he had tied his lips for a time to one of the Princess hands: Now let Augustus, cried he, display all the puissance of his Empire against me, and let the whole world assist him in his aims at my overthrow, I brave them all, my Princess, in the estate to which your goodness has exalted me, and since your inviolate affection is mine in a greater measure, than my lawfullest hope could ambition, I can suffer nothing in my exile, nor in those perils that threaten my safety, capable to counterpoise the meanest part of my happiness: I know Madam, that I am forced to leave you, and were I in your heart, with as much advantage as the hand of Hymen could place me, I could not own one single desire to see you follow the fortune of a man, to whom Heaven has denied a place to repose you; no Madam, I must have a Kingdom to receive you as I ought and instead of desiring you should tie yourself to the condition of a wretch, I will never raise my pretences to the honour of your possession, till I am able to set a Crown upon your head: perhaps I am not so far from performing this, as it is believed, and if fortune does not use me too rudely, I may happily come back in a Condition, that will enable me to ask the proofs of your affection in a more becoming posture; let me beg the favour of your confidence in these words, and do not look for less than extraordinary effects, from a man that could not have listed himself in your service with a common Courage.  
There is nothing too hard for my hopes in your virtue, replied the Princess, nor can I acknowledge any default of those Crowns in your person, which for my sake you rejected; 'tis true, I could wish myself a power to invest you with those that Anthony designed me in my childhood, or be content to wish you a throne in some other place; not that Diadems can add new graces to your person, too lively of itself to need an Exterior Ornament, but to provide us a covert against the storms of Tyranny, and ransom our liberty from the power of those, who after the pulling down of our houses, do still inhumanly prosecute the remainder.  
At this period, Coriolanus looked round to observe if any listened to their Discourse, and perceiving Marcellus (to leave them the greater liberty) was walked with his Sister into the Garden, and Cleopatra's Maid who stayed with her Mistress, stood yet at the distance of ten or twelve paces, letting fall the tone of his voice; Madam, said he, I have a design which I would, if you please, reveal to none but yourself; if I hide it from Marcellus, 'tis not suspicion that advised me, since, if the fates could spin me as many threads, I would trust him with a thousand lives, but the consideration I keep for his Interest, not willing to involve him in a plot that may speak him criminal to Caesar, but I hope your goodness will give him my excuses after 'tis once broke out: To these words, when he had begged of the Princess to preserve it asecret, succeeded the Discovery of some thoughts, to which I was yet a stranger, and which you shall learn in the Story's sequel: the Princess timerously reflected upon the difficulties she found in the design, but after some contestations with her fears, she remitted all to the conduct of Coriolanus, and that to the Gods to whom she recommended him.  
By this time Marcellus and his Sister were come back to the Arbour, and, after they had spent one hour together in Discourse, my Master, fearing to incommodate the Princess, and at the reason, the nights not being over warm, he took his leave for the Evening, entreating the Company to give him the favour of a second meeting in the same place the following night, wherein he resolved to part from Rome; he entreated Marcellus to be there with the rest, and not think of seeing him all the next day, resolving to shut up himself in Strato's house, where he could not visit him, without running the hazard of a dangerous Jealousy, Marcellus though mortally afflicted at this separation, at last consented to his friends desire, and, because all that Coriolanus had at Rome, were seized by the Emperor's order, he furnished him with Horses, Slaves, and all things else his necessity demanded, and sent them out of the City before day, with orders to stay for us at the Port of Brindes, under the conduct of one of my Master's Officers that had formerly served Marcellus with an uncommon fidelity.  
My Master told his friend, he intended a retreat to the King of Libia's Court, the nearest of his Kinsmen where he could stay with assurance, till the choler of Augustus was wasted to a cooler temper, which he would learn to hope from the power of his mediation; but the Reasons he alleged to that Princess would not let him unrip any part of that design he communicated to Cleopatra.  
We retired to the House of Strato, and were no sooner there, but my Master (instead of bestowing the remains of that night upon rest) sent me to the Lodgings of Hippias, and Lisippus, to entreat them to come and see him before day. These were two of the principal men in Mauritania, who, by the general suffrage of that People, were sent to Rome, to carry their complaints to Caesar, of the violent and harsh usage they received from the Roman Garrisons, and the Praetor Volusius, whose insufferable insolence and cruelty had reduced the poor Inhabitants to despair: These two Deputies had been with their complaints at Caesar's feet, without obtaining any redress, and it was much about the time we returned from the Asturian War. These Moors, who had already learned my Master's repute from the common noise, beheld him with a respect proportioned to the Son of their late King: and him that had been born to command them, if Fortune had not stripped him of those Dignities, before Nature completed his being; and meeting with all the qualities in him they could desire in the person of a Sovereign, after they had made themselves particularly known by divers visits, at last they ventured at the liberty to tell him, if he would present himself to his lawful Subjects, and show them the face of the Son of Juba, (a name they still honoured with a deep veneration) and of a Prince already known by the bruit of his beautiful actions, they did not question, but the People, taking Courage and as well from their affection to him, as aversion to the Roman Government, by an universal rising, assisted by his valour, would set him in his Father's throne.  
These two Agents had often renewed this proposition, to which, though the first appearance of Caesar's partiality had opened his ear, because he was not yet his Enemy, he had as often rejected it, believing he could not answer any secret contrivance at the bar of Honour against a man that been his Benefactor: during this private Treaty, they received news from their Country that did no way cool their proceedings, and still as my Master's resentments boiled higher by degrees against Augustus, they failed not to ply him so hotly with fresh solicitations, as my Master perceiving all things grow desperate for him at Rome, and understanding that Augustus had proscribed his name, and caused it to be set up in the Streets, (as in the time of the Triumvirate) with a proposal of a recompense to his Murderers, his just resentments were wound up, to the resolution of a revenge upon his Enemy, by a way that should lead him to his lawful heritage: this was the design he imparted to Cleopatra, and the same that made him send me for Hippias and Lisippus.  
These two men (ravished at the knowledge of their Prince's abode) for whom they had all the preceding day suffered so many fears, immediately parted from their lodging and came along with me to Strato's house: my Prince no sooner saw and embraced them, but he declared his design to serve their honest desires, in chase the Romans out of his Father's Territories, he promised he would be ready to go away with them the following night, and bade them be assured he would not be sparing of his life, to requite the injuries of Augustus, nor make himself an inconsiderable gift to that People, who had preserved so much affection for his Family.  
The Mauritanians, almost besides themselves with joy at this Discourse, fell both at his feet, protesting they would be ready to serve him as faithful guides till he set his foot upon those Dominions the Romans had usurped, and assured him he should not find a man in both the Mauritania's, that would not willingly hazard his life to beat out the Romans, and gladly subject himself to his Sovereignty.  
This resolution confirmed, and all the circumstances settled, the two Moors went home to order their affairs for a Journey, and prepare themselves to go away with us the following night. I say with us, for though I was born a Roman, and descended from a Family noble enough, so real an affection tied me to my Master, as neither the Interest of my Country, nor the love of my kindred could slack my carrier in running his Fortune.  
Strato having carefully sought up the faithfullest of my Master's servants, without disclosing where he was, assigned them to be ready about the beginning of night, at a place he appointed; the rest stayed behind at Rome, for fear too curious a search of all should betray us.  
Every thing thus disposed of passed away the day at Strato's house, the greatest part of which, my Master, wearied with his former watchings, bestowed in sleep, at least as much of it, as the grief he took to part with Cleopatra would permit him: so soon as the night was a little advanced, we mounted on Horse back, and rendered ourselves at Octavia's Garden-gate, which was presently opened us, wherewith Cleopatra, Marcellus, young Ptolomee, and the Princess her Daughters, Octavia came herself in person, to bid Coriolanus adieu.  
My Prince, very sensible of the favour, paid his acknowledgement to that great Princess, in the humblest language he could utter, but after she had spent some time in his company, accepting her thanks for her friendly offices, and renewing the protestations of her amity, with a promise to employ her whole life, as well to mediate his peace with Caesar, as preserve him fresh in Cleopatra's affections, she would needs leave him the freedom of taking a private leave of the Princess; when, after she had often embraced him with as tender an inpulgence, as if she had groaned for his birth, she retired to her own apartment: it would pose me to repeat all the endearing language, that love and amity directed to Coriolanus at this parting, as well from a Princess so passionately loved, as a friend so dear, and so worthy of his amity.  
Marcellus, Ptolomee, and the Sisters, made the like retreat as before, to give Coriolanus an unwitnessed leisure of entertaining Cleopatra; and resuming the same Discourse, he let fall at his last parting, and repeated the negotiation betwixt him and the two Deputies of Mauritania, and mentioned all the probabilities of success that he saw in his Enterprise: If the God's consent, pursued he, that I thrive in this project, and arrive at the power to declare you the Sovereign of a King, puissant enough in the number of his Subjects, and extent of his Dominions, as you are now of a despoiled and exiled Prince, will not my Princess permit me to sue for the Compliment of my fortune, in the consent of Octavia, whom you have chosen for a Mother, and the approbation of Marcellus, with the Princes and Princesses your Brothers and Sisters; if ever Heaven gives leave that I seize upon that Sceptre, I am resolved to turn hither in disguise, where being admitted to the same Privilege of a private interview, which you now grant me, if you still condescend to vote me happy, we will tie the sacred knot betwixt us, and by consent of your nearest friends, you may then go and receive the Crowns that shall wait your arrival; I can easily convey you hence, if your Love be strong enough to confute the strict rules of severity, and may oppose the resignation of yourself, to the conduct of him you have chosen for a Husband: 'tis true, there are Seas to cross, and toils to encounter in the Voyage, to which I should not desire to expose my Princess, but those short-lived troubles perhaps may prove as easy to be endured, as the Tyranny of Augustus, and Livia, to which your present condition submits you: and thus my Divine Princess, for this happy unfortunate, you shall ripen the fruits of that affection, which does so gloriously sweeten his Calamities.  
At the Period of these words, Coriolanus sell at Cleopatra's feet, and embracing her knees, kept himself in the posture of a man, that with fear and impatience, expected the effect of his earnest Petition: Cleopatra's doubts, that the engagement of her word might sin against her duty, bred a long War in her thoughts what answer to return; but at last overcoming the scruples that opposed her desires:  
Yes my dear Coriolanus, said she, I do allow your request, and when you have got the consent of Octavia, and my Brothers that I espouse you, without seeking that of Augustus, or repairing to any other power but theirs, my own heart and hand shall freely confirm it, and when I have once received you for my Husband, I will shut my eyes upon pain and danger, while I follow your Fortune upon Earth and Sea: accept, said she, stretching out her hand, the promise I offer you, and believe it, if your fidelity stands firm and unshaken, nothing shall have power to blot my soul with its violation.  
My Master appeared so overjoyed at this promise of his Princess, as it put a large part of that grief to flight, which he took to leave her; but, after he had tendered a thousand thanks at her feet, in the most passionate language that love could utter, rising from his knee in a deep succession of sighs, that witnessed the return of his woes, to their old possession, and a face overflowed with tears, which rise in rebellion against his Courage, he disposed himself to take his leave: the Princess wept excessively, and my Prince and she felt the pangs of their affliction rise to that height of fortune, as they both drew an unluckily Augury from that separation.  
Cleopatra kept him a long time close Prisoner in her arms, but, having at last unlocked those dear chains and let him go, after she had left him her last adieu, she retired to her lodgings, in so woeful a posture, and so enfeebled with grief, as it had scarce left her strength enough to guide her footsteps; young Ptolomee and the Princess her Sisters were sad to extremes, but I think the parting of Marcellus and my Master would have sostned all the souls upon Earth, that were most incapable of amity: a hundred times did they part, and a hundred times came back again into each others arms, mingling such passionate and tender language, which the repetition of every embrace, as I that quitted my Country, my Friends, and the nearest of my blood with a moderate regret, could not look upon them, and not melt at the eyes with a feminine weakness: at last necessity rend them asunder, and they deemed it not safe for Marcellus either to go himself or send any company with Coriolanus to bring him part of his way, for fear the courtesy should make too much noise, and lest there should be found so cheap and sordid a soul among Marcellus followers, to sell his fidelity for the Emperor's reward, in revealing our departure, and the way we bend at.  
After this cruel adieu, we went to meet the two Deputies, who with Strato and our Horses stayed for us in Mars' field, where my Prince having armed himself, we marched out at the nearest gate, and following the tract of our Equipage (which Marcellus sent away the night before) we found them at the Port of Brindes, with such of our servants, as our Order commanded thither, and there finding some vessels that accustomed to traffic upon the Coasts of afric, Hippias and Lisippus hired one with the Merchants in it, to whom they gave their desires, and we presently embarked with a favourable wind, and pat off to Sea; Ah how many sad looks, and deep sighs, did Coriolanus send back to the Italian shore! how sensibly did he feel himself torn from the precious pawn he left behind him? Winds, would he sometimes cry, the more kindly you breath upon our designs, the further you remove me from Cleopatra, nor can you be propitious to our voyage, unless you divorce me by a large distance, from the noblest part of myself; he still enlarged his discourse upon that subject, undisguising the marks of all those cruel quietudes wherewith his passion shook him.  
In the mean time our Sails were filled and guilded with the breath and beauty of heaven, nor did ever any voyage of that length begin and end with a Calm more agreeable: the Horizon was not sullied with a Cloud and we felt not so much as a blast that was not requisite to swell our Canvas, and drive on our Bark to the African shore.  
At last, after a happy Navigation we passed Hercules' Pillars, and a few days after, entered the Cape of Ampelusa, the chiefest Promontory upon all the Coast of afric, where disembarquing ourselves, we mounted on Horseback, and lay the next night at the City of Lissa, seated upon the River Lixus, the Metropolis of all Mauritania, from thence we marched to the City Babba, and then succeeded to Banasa, where the popular credit of Hippias and Lisippus had greatest influence, and there it was they thought fit my Master should first begin to own himself, they caused the report of his arrival to be sown among their friends, with the design that brought him thither to dis-inthral them from the Roman Tyranny, if they had Courage enough to draw their Swords with his in the Quarrel, and prefer the Government of their natural Prince, to the intolerable yoke the Roman had imposed: the reputation of those great things my Master had done, as well of late against the Cantabrians, as in the Tyrociny of his arms in Germany, had traveled through all Africa, and his Father's Subjects, who deeply concerned themselves in the Fortune, had listened to the story that Fame told them of their lawful Princes Heroic acts, with a joy full of affection and tenderness: a thousand and a thousand times had they sighed for the same happiness, that then offered itself to their acceptance; and those of Banassa, no sooner understood that he was within their Walls, but they flew into a throng to see him, at the first sight meeting with that in his face, which promised more than report had spoke of, they threw themselves at his feet, called him their King, and begged he would bring them on to redeem his Father's Subjects from slavery; but by little and little, the press was swollen to such a bulk, as the tenth part of those that run thither, could not get near to Coriolanus lodging, and while Hippias stayed near his person, Lisippus ranging through the City, and claiming the arrival of Juba's Son, the people rose so universally, as the very Women and Children loudly cried out in the streets to be shown their Prince, to let them see the Son of Juba: you will not think this strange when I have told you, that the Romans having exercised an untroubled authority in Mauritania, for three or four and twenty years, and believing their horrible exactions, had awed that people with too servile a fear, to attempt the removal of any pressure, had neglected the care of such things as necessity required to preserve it, in so much, as (the places of the greatest importance excepted) they kept no Garrisons in the rest, that were not too weak for the inhabitants; besides, the Soldiers had engrafted themselves into their families by Conjugal alliance, and lived among them with a fearless security, through the cruelty of their Companions that held the stronger holds, and the rigour of their Governor, and Viceroy, had run them into desperate apprehensions.  
The Garrison of Banasa no sooner saw the tumult, of which they learned the cause as soon as the Citizens, but finding themselves too feeble to face the storm, they quitted the City, and with all the hast they could make, retired to a Neighbouring Garrison, while some that followed too slowly, were torn in pieces by the first fury of the multitude.  
The Prince perceiving he had now no longer time to dissemble; openly pulled off the Mask, and the second day mounting on Horseback, rid through the whole City, showing himself to those that had not seen him, making Orations in the public places to all that could hear him, with a charming Rhetoric of Garb and language.  
The people still improving their wonder at those bewitching gifts of nature, they found about him the Beauty of his shape and visage, the smooth facility and Elegance of his language, and in fine, the united graces that shined and smiled in every excellent part, their joy got up to such extremes, as might be said they induced it, and they cried on all sides, Long live King Juba, the Son of our King Juba, the lawful heir of our ancient King, and let the Tyrants die, let the Romans, his Enemies and ours be destroyed.  
These cries Echoed to every side through the City, and to answer them, the Prince in several speeches, encouraged a perseverance in their loyal intentions, with a promise to sweeten his Government, with all sorts of mildness and lenity; the principal men of the City tendered him their Oath of Allegiance, in behalf of the whole, and presently after they sent to all the neighbouring Cities to excite them by their Example to shake off the Roman servitude and acknowledge the Son of their King, who proffered the employment of that valour for their delivery, which in his blooming years had made him so famous at Rome, and carried his name to the utmost corners of the Empire: they needed not much spurring to this Enterprise, since all received the news with as much height, and heat of resolution, as those of Banasa; and in less than eight days, the Cities of Lissa, Tingy, Babba, and Sala, had either driven them out, or cut the throats of their Garrisons, beaten down the Roman Eagles on all sides, and re-advanced the ancient Standard of Mauritania: never did affair of that nature ripen so suddenly to success, the people that were up still swelling in their numbers, rolled on like a Torrent, arming all the Country as they went, and in less than three week's time caused all the Cities upon the Atlantic Sea to declare for the Quarrel.  
My Master perceiving this happy progress, was willing to make a prudent use of it, and judging the noise it made, had alarmed Volusius and his Lieutenants to march against him, he form the gross body of an Army of such Troops as flocked in to him from all quarters, voluntarily raised, and sent in at their proper cost, by the Cities of his party, exposing their Wife's Jewels to sail, with all their richest furniture to relieve their Prince's necessities: Every day contributed a large addition to his forces, till at last my Master thought himself strong enough to take the Field, and marching out of Banassa, he put himself into the head of 15000 fight men, thus attended, he marched up to the Gates of such Cities as still held for the Romans; and his fortune was such, as in less than three week's time, without drawing a Sword, he ranged all that Country, that lies between the Promontory of Ampelosa, and the Mountain Atlas under his obedience: the City of Antotole at the Entrance of Getulia, which the Romans had better fortified than the rest, was the first that made resistance, and my Master was set down before it, when Canidius, Lieutenant to Volusius, with 4000 Horse, and 12000 Foot, sped towards us by large Marches, while Volusius was busied in gathering of a greater body, to oppose the torrent of our Progress.  
Our Regiments were already grown so full, as the Army marched not less than 20000 Combatants, the third part of which Coriolanus left before the City, to continue the Siege, under the command of Lisippus, while himself marched with the rest to meet Canidius: I cannot express the fierce joy that people showed, as they followed their Prince, they went to the Combat to a certain victory, and though a great part of the Enemies they were to charge were Romans, and so by consequent the most formidable and redoubted Soldiers upon Earth, the confidence they reposed in their valiant Leader, taught them to despise the foe with as brave a scorn, as if their Army had been composed of Lydians, or some other Nation yet more soft and effeminate.  
The Romans, as your judgement will tell you, had disarmed the Country as they marched, but the Cities that declared for us, after the defeat of their Garrisons, had seized all their arms, wherewith my Prince had furnished his Soldiers, and from the first day of his Command, had ever trained them to the Roman Discipline, taught them the Lessons of War as perfectly as the Romans themselves could repeat them.  
It was upon the banks of the River Cosenus near the confines of the Scelatites Country, where we encountered Canidius, and there did my Master range his Battalians with such military method, as instructed his new Subjects, how well he was skilled in the trade of War, and lead them on to the combat with forward hopes of victory; to which, both as Captain and Soldier, he hewed them a passage by actions so full of wonder, as his Africans, highly animated by his Example, poured themselves upon the Enemy with a storm too impetuous to be resisted; at the first shock they disordered their battalians, and giving them no time to rally, my Master charged through and through with so much sury, as at last they were forced to abandon themselves to a general flight; the slaughter was very great, Canidius fighting in the head of his ranks like a valiant man, fell one of the first Sacrifices to my Master's fortune, and of all that number he brought into the Field, there was not saved above 12 or 1500 men that were taken Prisoners.  
This first success so prided the Mauritanians Courage, as they cried to their Prince to lead them through the world, that all sort of Enemies should find them invincible, so long as he fought at the head of their Troops: after this victory he returned to reinforce the Siege of Antotole, but he that commanded it for the Romans, had no sooner understood the defeat of Canidius, upon whose fortunes his hopes depended, and distrusting not only his own strength, but the Citizen's faith, whom he knew to be his Enemies, and affectionated to the Prince, he marched out of the Garrison upon an Honourable Capitulation.  
My Prince, contrary to the Moors advice, sent back all his Prisoners without a Ransom, and treated those that fell into his hands with a generous humanity, of which that Country had never seen a Parallel; after the taking of Antotole, he overrun all Getulia; whereof the Cities, where the Garrisons were weakest, received him with open Gates, and the others, that the Romans had forcified to abide a Siege, were part rendered by Composition, and the rest carried by Storm, with a great slaughter of the Soldiers that defended them, though Coriolanus did all was possible to save them from the fury of the Moor.  
From Getulia we marched into the Province of the Scelatites, where my Prince continued his progress, and defeated (with as signal advantages as those he carried of Canidius) Cecinna and Sillanius, two other Lieutenants to Volusius; their Troops were all cut in pieces, and our Soldiers enriched themselves with their Spoils: every City and all the Country as we passed, gladly contributed money and victuals to the entertainment of our Army, in exchange received a treatment from the Soldiers that carried a nearer resemblance to a Brotherly Visit, than an Invasion.  
From the Scelatites, whose Country was totally reduced, after we had passed the Rivers Darath and Palsus, we succeeded to the Province of the Pharusians, on this side the Promontory of Barce, and there it was that Volusius, contrary to the rules of Military Prudence, having drained all his Garrisons, and drawn up the forces that lay upon the Frontiers, resolving to crush us in pieces with one great effort for all, came up towards us with 12000 Horse, and above 30000 Foot, strowing the way as he passed with proud menaces against us, which daily arrived at our Ears, and indeed the feeble resistance, the Romans had formerly found in those people my Master commanded, gave him so easy a Confidence of the victory, as with an unreasonable providence he had already disposed of all things that were to succeed it.  
Our Army still receiving additional numbers from every place we touched at, was then composed of 8000 Horse, and 32000 Foot, which My Prince had already imbued with so fair a Discipline, as the Roman Legions could scarce boast a better order, or a more exact obedience.  
You see Sir, I have given you this relation in as narrow precincts as possible, though I believe your patience had suffered in the recital of divers things whereof the knowledge may possible seem impertinent to my Master's life.  
The Army of Volusius being now within a days journey of ours, my Master who till then had advanced to meet him, rested his upon a fair Plain, some Furlongs from the City of Daridi, where he resolved to expect his approaches, and prudently lay out his time in the choice of some local advantages: That day he received a Letter, or rather a Defiances from Volusius, in which he proffered him to fight the following day, I think the word were these.  
Septimus Volusius, Praetor of the two Mauritania's, and General of the Roman, Armies, to Coriolanus, Son of Juba.  
WE have understood that in contempt of what thou owest to the Roman Name, and the Sacred Authority of Augustus Caesar, thy Emperor and Benefactor, thou art come upon these Provinces which thy Father lost in a just War, to raise his Subjects, and trouble the repose of his people; and though this ingratitude against thy Lord and Master would be better requited by an ignominious punishment, than the glory thou mayst reap in combating the Roman Army, yet we have not disdained this employment of our Swords against thee, to try if the Roman Education has rendered thee worthy to inherit thy Father's Destiny, whose haughty attempt to shock our puissance, was rewarded by a glorious death from our hands: to morrow, if thou hast Courage enough to attend us, we shall decide thy pretences by the battle we offer thee, and pay what we owe to the memory of Julius Caesar, in assuring his Conquests by thy Defeat; stay for us, and by a generous resistance prevent our blushes for the victory.  
My Master having read this defiance of Volusius aloud, mocked at his arrogance, and turning towards us with a smile full of indignation, He may chance to speak in a milder Accent, said he, before to morrows Sun has ended his Carreir; yet he would not send back the Messenger without an answer, and calling for Paper, he made it speak in these terms.  
Juba Coriolanus King of the two Mauritanias, Enemy to the Roman Empire, and legitimate Heir to his Father's Crowns, to Septimus Volusius.  
THY proud threats, that have rather provoked our derision, than Anger, could not dissuade us to vouchsafe thee an answer, and though we owe not Justication, neither to thee, nor Caesar thy Emperor, and thy Master, but not ours; we declare the desire of recocovering our lawful heritage, was less officious to arm us in this quarrel, than that of delivering our People from the hard servitude, wherein thy horrible exactions, and daily repeated Cruelties do hold them: Caesar has refused the Justice they demanded against thee, and they have found out their natural Prince, who, by the God's assistance, and the Justice of his Cause, does climb the throne of his Predecessors, which the Roman Tyranny had injuriously usurped; if my Father fell, his Fortune gave way to the greatest man that ever was, and thou art too short of his worth, upon whom Heaven bestowed the Thapsian victory, to menace us with the same fate: to morrow (since thou wilt have it so) shall determine a part of our difference, and if thou darest spare the blood of many thousands, who will find their Funerals in that Battle, I shall not scruple (however the disparity of our Conditions may disallow it, to decide our quarrel by a personal Combat against thee) if thou dost not disapprove, thou wilt signify thy acceptance of this offer; in the mean time rectify thy fear, and rather dread the shame of thy defeat, than of a victory, which will be hotly disputed.  
This was my Master's answer, who employed the rest of the day with a marvellous care and knowledge in preparing all things for the Combat, and the next day a little after Sun was risen, our Scouts bringing intelligence that the Enemy was advanced within a few furlongs of our Army, he composed it to a fight posture, with an admirable method road bareheaded through all the Squadrons, exposing the visage of their Prince to the Soldier's view, which they contemplated with a sacred veneration, and spurring their spirits to the Combat with an extraordinary ardour.  
There are few men endowed with an eloquence comparable to his, and that day particularly animated by the importance of the action he was to perform, the force of his Rhetoric left an impression of Courage upon the coldest hearts; his new dignity had added Majesty to his aspect, and though it brought no pride along with it, yet his face seemed to give new lessons of respect to all those that regarded him; to this every thing about him contributed, the mingled beauty of his arms glittering with Gold and Jewels, the stately pride of his Horse, all things fitly suited to the advantages of his person.  
He had almost gone through all the ranks, when Volusius Troops began to appear, at the sight of which our Army sent up a loud cry to Heaven, which marvellously confirmed my Prince in his hopes of victory, all the Sacrifices promised a happy Augury, and at the Enemy's approach, there remained no more but the last Signal, which was given by my Prince's command, who advancing before the rest, a thousand times more fierce than Achilles himself, often called upon Volusius with a loud voice, but he was then busied in the midst of his Battalians, with the functions of his charge, which he would not abandon, to engage with a young man in a particular Combat: but my Lord, I detain your attention too long, and my Story has insensibly lead me to abuse your patience, by drawing it out at length too tedious; at the last sound of the Trumpet the Armies joined, and the Battle proved the bloodiest that had been seen in that part of the world within the memory of man; my Master putting down the visor of his Casque, before he rushed upon the Enemy; Cleopatra, cried he, if this day my Sword does not purchase a pair of Crowns for thy Temples, I will not survive it. This said, he darted himself into the Enemy's ranks with a fury, that wherever he carried his Sword, threw down all before it: after the Combat had lasted an hour, the Army of Volusius (composed either of Romans, or such other as had gotten an equal animosity from their Example) pressed upon ours with so much resolution, as the Courage of the Moors began to shrink, and already their Battalians were so shaken, as my Master (who though in the heat of his personal gallantry, still kept the Eye of a General upon all that passed) began to dread the loss of the Battle, that fear brought him back through a throng of his Enemies, which he had cloven with a precipitate fury, and running up to those he saw most staggered, he presented himself at the head of them, and galloped along the ranks without a Caesque, that they might see his face, wherein Choler had lighted up itself in a fiery blush: My friends, cried he, if you judge me unworthy to Command you, let me die by your hands; or if your desire I should live, do not dishonour the Royal present you have newly given me, by a Cowardice unworthy of yourselves and me too: what, will you quit a victory that our Enemies are now upon the point to abandon? Ah no! my valiant friends, let us either vanquish, or die together; there is neither safety for you nor me, after the loss of this Battle; while he brought forth these words, his Soldiers thought they had seen rays of flames break away from his visage, and to give their Courages a greater rouse, the Prince perceiving Volusius in an eager pursuit of the victory which the valour of his men had already started, ran up to him with a rage so impetuous, that as well by the shock of his Horse, as the mighty blow he let fall upon his head, he tumbled him in a Trance at the feet of his men: This action, joined with the words of Coriolanus, gave fire to his Soldier's hearts with a resolution so vigorous, as after they had firmly, for a while kept their ground, and sustained the shock of their Enemies, they not only arrested the rapid stream of their Fortune, but began to repulse the forwardest, and by little so improved their advantage, as at last they opened their Ranks, broke their Order, and after a very obstinate dispute, enforced them to turn their backs and resign the Victory: what shall I say more? the glory of that day remained as entire to my Prince, as his own wishes could contrive it, and the Massacre of the Enemies was so great, as Coriolanus by his orders could scarce stop the Execution at the end of the day; more than 30000 men lost their lives upon the place, a few saved themselves by flight, and the rest, whereof the greatest part covered with wounds, were taken Prisoners, and with them the General Volusius: I presented him myself to my Master, having lighted on the fortune to save him from the hands of some Moors, who had infallibly killed him, if I had not seasonably arrived to his rescue.  
Coriolanus received him with honour, bade him cashier all his fears, and strive to sweeten the sense of his disgrace, with very affable and obliging language; he would needs have a wound, that Volusius had raked, to be searched by the same persons, who had newly performed that office to himself, in dressing three slight hurts he received in the Battle, and maugre the Menace, and words of contempt he sent him the day before, he caused him to be served according to his former Dignity, and forbade all his Servants, to let fall any word within the reach of his ear, that might displease him.  
After this Victory (for I shall not stay the current of my Story upon the less important particulars that succeeded it, as the order of dividing the booty, the Prisoners and interring the dead) my Master, so soon as the cure of his wounds would permit him, having now no more Enemies to Combat, marched with erected looks and expanded Ensigns, to jol the Capital City of that Kingdom, ranging all the places of strength as he passed under his Dominion, without a blow; and having given safe Conduct to the rest of the Roman Garrisons, that were willing to give up the Cities they yet held, and retire to some place of security beyond his Dominions, in less than two months' time (those excepted that he held his Prisoners) he had not one single Enemy left in all Africa.  
At last he arrived at that proud City where the Palace-Royal of his Ancestors was seated, where having received the Oath of the Massesians, the Nigrites, Bannurians, Venusians, with other people of his Monarchy (that had not yet acknowledged him) by a general assembly of States, and an universal applause of his Subjects, he was solemnly crowned King of both the Mauritania's, under the name of Juba; for his People, Enemies to all that he held of Roman, would never endure to call him by that of Coriolanus, though he had ever preserved it as less barbarous than the other, and an appellation, under which he had rendered the greatest part of his services to Cleopatra: if my relation has dwelled too long upon some particulars, perhaps I have made your patience a bad requital in passing these too succinctly, but I assure myself you learned at Rome all that we did of greatest consequence.  
When my Master saw himself established in his monarchy, he applied his maturest thoughts to consider of a means to preserve it, not doubting but Augustus would strive to trouble him in his new Conquest, and pvissantly rekindle the War; loath to be tamely surprised, he made grand provision of Soldiers, Arms, Ammunition of all sorts, and caused a great number of Ships to be rigged and made ready for a mighty Army by Sea, intending to anticipate his Enemy's approaches.  
In the mean time Volusius had ever been treated, and served with as much respect as was due to the proper person of the King my Master, whose Authority was necessary to defend him against the hatred of the Moors, who doubtless would have fastened some revenge upon him, to requite the Cruelties he had exercised in his Government, if my Master had not protected him: so soon as he had put on the Crown, he grew desirous to restore him his liberty; and, to that purpose, causing him to be brought into his presence: I am sorry, said he, for the displeasure you have received by the lot of War, and if your usage here has been short of what your quality might challenge, I must assure you my intentions have been dishonoured in it; you may return to Rome when you please, and besides the liberty I give you, you shall have Shipping to transport you, with all other requisites for your voyage; but because in this Action I have no design to oblige Augustus, who has treated me unworthily, you shall address yourself to Marcellus, to whom I send you; and in requital of these Civilities which, for his sake I confer upon his Countrymen, you shall demand, if you please, in my behalf the continuation of his amity.  
Volusius (whose rude deportment had pleaded no title of desert of this generosity of Coriolanus) gladly accepted it, and protesting with a humility far below the haughty pitch of his former Arrogance, that he would employ his whole life to find out fit acknowledgements for the favour he had done him, he received the Shipping, the Convoy, with every thing else that necessity demanded for the Voyage, and with all the Romans that were Prisoners with him, parted from jol, and a few days after embarquing at the next Port, took his way to Rome, full of shame and confusion.  
The Young King, perceiving himself to sit fast on his Throne, rewarded the services he had received of his Subjects with a grand munificence, especially those of Hippias and Lisippus, who were raised to the tallest offices in the Kingdom; and if the possession of Riches and Honour could have raised my felicity, which I ever had bounded within others limits, I had there full cause to be satisfied with my Fortune: but scarce had the people tasted the first sweets of his Government, when he was advertised by some Vessels that returned from scouring the Seas, that Augustus had sent out a Fleet against him, under the charge of Domitius Aenobarbus, who of all the Roman Captain had the deepest experience in Sea Commands: at the alarm of this intelligence (which was so far from surprising my Prince, as his expectation was ever prepared to receive it) he ramassed his Forces that were yet undisbanded, to which by new levies he had added great numbers, and marching down to Sea side, he embarked in person with them in vessels of War that lay there ready to receive them, and with more than 200 Sails went to meet Enobarbus, who was already come within sight of the African shore; the Enemy's Army did equal, if not out number ours, commanded by a great and famous Captain, yet Coriolanus aborded it with as much confidence, as if fate itself had assured him the Victory, and without further delay presented, and gave him battle.  
There has not possible been seen a more furious conflict upon the Sea, the advantages were hotly disputed on both sides for a whole day together, but at last the insuperable valour of our Prince forced them to an entire stay upon our party; the Enemy's Fleet was totally defeated, their Ships part taken, the rest sunk and the General Domitius, perceiving despair had got the ascendant, saved himself by the courtesy of night, which began to hide the world about the end of the Combat, and doubtless carried news to Rome, capable to make Augustus repent the injuries he had done my Master.  
After that famous victory, he triumphantly returned to shore, supposing his Enemies so enfeebled by that last defeat (the Roman puissance ever consisting more in Land Forces, than the number of Ships, or experimented Seamen) as he judged it would cost them a long recruit, before they could recover a condition, to discompose the peace of his Dominions.  
He was received like a God in all the Cities as he passed, and being returned to the Capitol, he stayed there a whole Month, which (by advice of the prudentest heads about him) he spent in rectifying and receiving the Laws of the Kingdom, which the Tyranny of Governourshad oppressed with grand disorders.  
But now my discourse has far enough followed the War, and affairs of States; I come back to Love, which strikes the greatest stroke in my Story, nor could ever my Master's spirit, in the throng of his greatest employments, obtain licence to lay aside that Passion for a moment: of this I am able to pass a better account than any other, for to me alone he did the honour to communicate his thoughts of that nature, and of all men living, I was he that least ignored them; a hundred times when involved in the greatest pressure of Affairs, when the threats of danger spoke loudest, has he drawn me aside to talk of Cleopatra, that remembrance has taken the tribute of a hundred sighs a day from his breast, and still in occasions the most important, the Idea of that Princess reassailing his spirit, forced him to betray continued proofs, that love was his Master-passion. Emilius, would he often say, the Gods can attest, that I would not struggle so eagerly for this Crown, had I not designed it an offering to Cleopatra, I am ashamed so long to see a Princess that merits to wear the Diadem of the world, and a Princess who for my sake refuses the Son of Livia the greatest match among the Romans, served by a man that does not possess one Inch of Land, nor the property of so much as one single Mansion to entertain her. Ah! could my adorable Princess, added he, mingling sighs and words, but see, through the distance that divides us, what tortures her absence has inflicted, sure the generous inclinations she has for me, would give her a share in these sufferings, a thousand times worse than any Augustus intended me, and were I not resolved to invest myself in the condition I promised her, to embolden demands, and raise me a power of obtaining by her Friends consent that perfection of felicity, 'tis not the desire of acquiring Empires, nor the fear of Augustus' puissance, should bar me longer from her presence. There passed not a day wherein he did not discourse with me upon the same subject, and while the night lasted, in spite of other thoughts, that attempted to traverse those of his Love, that adored Image could never be deposed from the Throne of his remembrance: One of his greatest perplexities was, that he could learn no news of her Affairs, nor easily send her an account of his, for the vast tract of Sea betwixt them, and the cessation of Commerce (because of the War) betwixt Mauritania and Italy; however, not enduring to continue in that condition, nor be longer ignorant how Cleopatra's was stated; immediately after his Victory against Aenobarbus, he sent his faithful Servant Strato in a vessel that he caused to be rigged for the purpose, and, having instructed him in the order he was to observe in his addresses to the Princess and Marcellus, he delivered him Letters for both, which he did me the honour to show me, that to Cleopatra spoke thus.  
Coriolanus Juba, King of Mauritania, to the Priness Cleopatra.  
I Would say that Fortune has been kind, had I power (while divided from you) to taste any happiness, and I am able to lay the oblation of a Crown at your feet, without holding it by the right of an Enemy's favour; to give it a better tittle to your acceptance, could my wishes involve the whole world's obedience, yet I should prise it much below the value of this glorious servitude, which my whole life shall prefer to the Throne of the Universe. This faithful servant I send you, will see Rome but a few days before me, and I shall quickly be at your feet, not to make good my promise, whereof the advantages will all result to myself, but to summon yours, of which, I hope, my Divine Princess, you will still prefer the remembrance, as I shall guard to my Tomb, the inviolable design of ever continuing faithfully yours. That to Marcellus was thus indicted.  
Juba Coriolanus King of Mauritania, to Prince Marcellus.  
I Should ask your pardon, my dear Brother, for prevailing with myself, to hide any thing from you, if your own knowledge did not instruct you, that my silence sprung from the care of your safety; in giving my design to your breast, against Caesar's Interests, I had either posed your amity, by exacting too hard a proof, and if you had kept it entire, rendered you faulty to Augustus, to whom your respects and affections are the children of Justice. I will say my projections have happily succeeded, if, what I have gained by their event, has not lost me your friendship, and if you be not so nearly allied to your Uncle's resentments, to blot out the memory of a friend, that owes you all, and from whom you may command all things; I shall suddenly be with you in person, to demand those proofs of your affection, and really to protest, that the recovery of my right, and the conservation of my life, are things a thousands times less dear than your amity.  
Coriolanus had written to the Princess Octavia, but he feared an unhappy surprisal of his letters, might render her suspected to Augustus, and only commanded Strato, to deliver her in his behalf, protestations of an immortal fidelity; if he made no use of the same caution for Marcellus, it was because he knew Caesar was too well instructed in their intimacy to believe all that was passed had power to cancel it, and that his letter would rather justify than impeach him.  
Strato thus dispatched, my Master, as I told you, bestowed some time in the reparation of those things that the wicked Governors had ruined, and in the disposal of these cares, disclosed a thousand virtues to his people that made them his Idolaters, and got him the admiration of all that knew it.  
I shall now trace this subject no further, because I am called to a recital of more importance, and after relating the happy events of my Master's life, 'tis fit my Discourse should succeed to those that compose his present condition.  
Instead of easing the inward anguish, which Cleopatra's absence had inflicted, by the lenitive of time, every day rendered it more sensible, and the same thing that to persons less wounded would have proved a cure, only served to redouble his malady, which got at last to that height, as it chased all things from his memory that offered comfort; the desire of returning, as his promise bound him, to Cleopatra, to demand her in marriage of Octavia (as the Princess and he resolved at parting) and conduct her to the possession of those Crowns, which he had acquired for her only, made him let fall the care that belonged to the conservation of an Estate, but weakly assured from the power of his Enemies; and though those to whom he communicated any part of his design, advised him not so soon to abandon a Country, wherein his presence was very necessary, and represented the inconveniences that might ensue his departure, he was so tormented with the violence of his passion, as the preservation of two such Realms, could not prevail for the residence it demanded.  
After the reasons had been bandied enough on both sides, no longer able to resist the motions that enforced it, he resolved his departure, and no sooner resolved it, but remmitting the Government into the hands of Cleomedes, Aristippus, Hippias, and Lisippus, he put himself upon the way, discovering his intentions to none but those four persons, in whom he reposed more confidence than all the rest; he would take no greater Equipage with him, than suited with a private man: and thus with no more but three Ships, we embarked at the Promontory of Baree, and by the help of a favourable gale, bend our course toward Italy. If in the voyage made the year before, my Master condemned the officious haste of the winds, that posted us to the African shore, his impatience now producing reversed effects, made him chide their sloth for driving our sails with too soft a breath towards Italy; and in all that vast tract of Sea, which divides it from Africa, he scarce changed a word with any but myself, with whom he had only power to treat on that subject, which had entirely seized all his thoughts.  
Fortune that had ever favoured him, since he quitted Rome, lent him one smile more in a propitious wind for his voyage, and after a peaceable Navigation, we were already come within ken of the Italian Coast, when we spied a Vessel making towards us; which, because the winds were less serviceable to their wishes than ours, came up very slowly, but at last we aborded, and presently knew her to be the same that was assigned Strato for the Roman Voyage.  
Of this Coriolanus was no sooner advertised, but he mounted the hatches with a hasty impatience to see Strato who was indeed in the Ship, and presently passing into ours, came to do his obeisance to the King our Master, Coriolanus greedily demanding the success of his Voyage: Sir, said he, it has proved to no purpose, and I found not one person at Rome to whom your commands directed me; Augustus is gone from thence with the intent of a progress, as report strews it through all Asia, and has taken Sicilia in his way, where the general belief speaks him at present, all the Court Ladies follow him attending the Empress, and it was his will that Octavia and her Daughters with the Princess Cleopatra, should go along in the Voyage.  
Coriolanus perceiving his expected satisfaction retarded by that impediment, stood long in a grand perplexity, and after the wasting some moments in a deep meditation, he enquired what was become of Tiberius: Tiberius is in perfect health, replied Strato, and gone as 'tis said, from Rome with Augustus, with as hot a passion from the Princess Cleopatra as ever; that passion, added the King of Mauritania, shall at last cost him that life, which I unfortunately left him, and since it is allotted to affront my happiness, one of our incompatible threads shall quickly possess the fatal Scissures; after this, concluding from Strato's answers to divers other questions, that Augustus must still be in Sicily, he commanded the Pilots to turn the Prows of their Ships, and we bend our course that way, with all the diligence the wind would let us make use of, but my Master could not defend his soul from the sad thoughts that assaulted it, since his meeting with Strato, and turning his head towards me, as he leaned upon my arm: Emilius, said he, this unlucky beginning instructs me to presage an inauspicious augury, and my fears will deceive me, if I find that full satisfaction in this Voyage I proposed at the undertaking: Sir, said I, I thought you had held it indifferent, to find Cleopatra either at Rome or Siracusa, and provided she perseveres in her first intentions, you may find as smooth a path to the execution of your designs in Sicilia as Italy: at this my Master shaked his head, and stood long in the posture of a man that disinherited his fortune; in the mean time, we pursued our course without the encounter of any impediment, and because of the nearness betwixt Sicilia and Italy, our voyage proved but a little longer than we designed it; after we had passed the famous Strait of Silla, we landed at the Promontory of Pelorus, there we learned according to our hopes, that Augustus was still at Siracusa, where some petty indisposition had detained him longer than his stay was designed, and that his Shipping lay at the Promontory of Lilibeum, where he intended to reimbarque for the continuation of his Voyage.  
We left our Vessels with all our men at Pelorus, my Master resolving to enter Siracusa, with no greater attendance than Strato and myself, in a condition the most unlikely to betray us: the second days journey brought us thither; but we waited the arrival of night before we entered, and secured by the favour of her shades, sought for a private lodging, which at last we found with toil enough (though Siracusa be one of the fairest Cities of the world) because of those vast numbers, whereof the Emperor's Court is composed.  
My Master passed the night with great inquietude, and knowing the same precinct of Walls, enclosed himself and the thing he adored, thirsted for an opportunity to see her with an impatience that would not suffer sleep to come near his eyelids: The next day morning, knowing many persons at Court were too well acquainted with my face to fit me for a day employment, he sent Strato to seek Marcellus lodging, with an opportunity to speak with him.  
In the mean time we stayed in ours, which we had taken near to one of the City Gates, in a very unfrequented quarter: my Master not willing to communicate with any, shut himself up in his Chamber, till Strato's return who brought him intelligence that Marcellus was lately gone from Siracusa, meeting with none that could inform him of the way he had taken, but that Cleopatra was with Octavia, and the rest of her family lodged in a quarter of the City that was called the Aoradine.  
The absence of Marcellus galled my Master with a very sensible displeasure, from whom he expected all sorts of consolation and assistance, and without him knew not how to compass the means of seeing Cleopatra. You see, said he, that my fears for the bad success of this voyage, did not want the defence of reason, nor could my apprehension shape a greater affliction than is befallen me by Marcellus absence: Gods! pursued he walking about the room with a countenance that betrayed the marks of the discontent, have I thrived by your favour in those occasions that so little imported to my life's repose, to be abandoned in that that has the custody of all my happiness.  
He stayed in a longer controversy of thoughts about contriving the way to gain a sight of Cleopatra, without lighting upon any that did not threaten too much difficulty; there was not a single person in the Court of Augustus that was a stranger to his face, nor could he show himself by day in the City without running the danger of a discovery from every eye that encountered him; and consider, if you please, what a grand hazard he attempted by trusting himself in a City where Caesar was in person, Caesar, to whom he had given so great, and so late provocations to pursue him to death, and Caesar, from whom his reason could never allow him to hope any favour, if he once fell into his hands; indeed he had not so maturely balanced that act to clear him of precipitation, and if he precontrived some cautions to keep himself concealed, they were much less intended as antidotes against his own death, to the fear of which, I never knew him let fall the least respect, than to start occasions of promoting his amorous design.  
In the mean time he sent back Strato to the City, with order to walk before Octavia's Lodging, and strictly observe, if the Princesses went out, what company was about them, and the way they bend at; in vain had Strato ranged to and fro, all the morning before Octavia's gate, when, after the day was half worn out, Fortune guided his eye to two Chariots that stood ready in the Court, and keeping near the gate with divers others of the City that came on purpose to gain a sight of those persons, that were to go in them, after half an hours waiting, he spied the Princess Cleopatra with her two Sisters, the Daughters of Anthony and Octavia (faces that were all well acquainted with his knowledge) enter one of the Chariots, without any other company, and three or four of their Maids mount the other, taking not so much as a man along with them, only some slaves that followed the Chariots on foot; they no sooner turned their backs upon the lodging, but Strato kept at their heels, till they were out of the City, and, enquiring of one of the Slaves, which way the Ladies intended, he learned that of late the Princess Cleopatra, went every day out but thinly accompanied, to take the air, that then they had designed a walk in a very delightful wood near the famous Fountain of Arethusa; Strato well satisfied with this discovery, posted back to the lodging, and had no sooner accounted the success of his endeavours to my Master, but full of transport, he hastily commanded three horses to be gotten ready; and, followed by Strato and myself, went out of the City, by the same gate that was near our lodging: the shortness of the way he was to ride in the Streets, made him a probability of passing without much danger, and once out of the City, he had the whole breadth of the fields, that surrounded the Walls, to shun the encounter of any that he saw in his passage; not that we were out of the shot of danger, but his passion had enfranchised all his fears, and to humour the motive wherewith that inspired him, he slighted every thing that recommended to his care the safety of his life. The Fountain of Arethusa, is so publicly known about Siracusa, as we found it easy to get directions of the way from every person we met, and in a short time having rounded a part of the City, we put ourselves upon the tract of the Chariots, and followed the great road the Ladies had taken: half an hours hard riding brought us within sight of the wood, at the entrance of which we found the Chariot, whence the Ladies were alighted to walk among the trees; my Master forgot not to thank the Gods for the favour of this encounter, and knowing no reason to suspect either the Sisters of Marcellus, or their Maids, he believed he might accost Cleopatra with the greater security, because were alone, and all the Slaves stayed with the Chariots by their command; we passed a little farther by the woods side, till we come up to an advenue that lead our eyes to the Princesses, who walked together hand in hand, their Maids seated upon a green bank, about an hundred paces distant: I know not what timorous presage helped the object to strike a horror through all my Master's joints, but he felt agitations in his soul that were not ordinary, and imputed them to the height and heat of his affection, that after a whole years' absence could not be temperately restored to the sight of her, that had his heart in custody; and having commanded me to light with himself and follow him, he left Strato at the woods side with our Horses, and advanced with hasty steps towards the Ladies; when he was approached within 50 paces, the noise we made stopped their walk, and turned their faces towards us; the Princess Cleopatra's habit was mean, her dress neglected, and her face very pale, but still as my Master lessened the distance betwixt them, a wavering colour often went and came in her cheeks, and when he was come near, I observed her stiffened with astonishment, as if she had been Planet-struck, my Master quickly laid himself at her feet, and embracing her knees with an amorous transport, his passion rose to such a tide, as it drowned the passage of his words not so much as suffering the escape of one single syllable, but Cleopatra had no sooner fastened her eyes to his visage, and taken back the assurance her sudden suprizal had sequestered, but turning towards her Sisters with an action that exposed the second part of her amazement: Gods! said she, is this Coriolanus himself we see before us? My Master saved the Ladies a labour to answer her, and raising his eyes to fix them upon Cleopatra's face: Yes Madam, said he, 'tis Coriolanus himself, and if you have thought his memory worth the preserving, he is not changed enough to pose your knowledge.  
At this, the Princess dissipated the astonishment that appeared at first blush in her visage, but it was to plant all the marks of a violent choler in the place, and regarding my Master with eyes that over-flowed with rage and indignation, after she had rudely thrown open his arms, that were tied about her knees: Base man, said he, is it possible thou shouldest bring a face into my presence, and not fear to find among the many Enemies thou comest to seek, a death proportioned to thy treacheries?  
This language struck my Master into a deeper amazement, than if a hundred Cart-loads of Thunderbolts had fallen at his feet, and, not able to manage his resolution in a disaster so unexpected, a hundred several changes glided over his face in a moment, which, possible confirmed the Princess in her angry error: yet pressing his Courage upon the employment of exploring his misfortune, and unwilling to betray so much Innocence, by standing dumb to his accusation: Is it I, Madam, cried he, is it I that you impeach of baseness and treachery? Yes, 'tis thyself, replied the Princess, but since thy unworthiness has appeared not only to all Rome, but to the whole Empire; besides, 'tis to the world thou owest thy justification, and not to me, who does neither desire, nor will accept it at thy hands; if thou thinkest the addition of thy new Dignity can set thee at a higher rate than before, thou shouldest address thyself to other persons than those that scorn thee as much, now thou art King of Mauritania, as they prized thee before, while they believed Virtue was all thy patrimony: the person thou lovest requites thee with as high a contempt as thy base heart has justly merited, and if thou wilt take advice from an Enemy that does not seek thy death, for expiation of thy Crimes, thou shalt fly from this Country, that holds not a person that does not hate thee: Go Barbarian, pursued she, regarding him with more flame in her Eye than before, go to the Deserts of thy Africa, mingle with the Monsters she produces, and if any revived relic of that remembrance thou once didst cherish for Cleopatra, should prevail with thy belief, there is a reparation due for the offence thou hast committed; know thou canst not pay it better, than by an Eternal Divorcement of thyself from her presence.  
After these words, which took away my Master's speech, his assurance, and robbed him of the very use of his reason, turning herself to one of the Princesses; Let us go, Sister, said she, for Heaven's sake take me away from hence, I can stay no longer: At these words, propping herself on either side with her Sisters, she fled from my Master, as if he had been a Basilisk or some other Monster more dangerous; and running as fast as her legs could carry her toward the Chariots, she left the Prince leaning against a tree, without either voice to reply, or force to follow her, in a nearer resemblance to a marble figure, than a living person.  
'Tis here Sir, I feel myself too feeble to present the grief that shot itself through the Soul of my poor Prince, and still my memory prompts me with the lamentable estate, whereto I saw him then reduced; I have a hard task to keep the marks of my affliction, from breaking at liberty, certainly woe did never stamp itself before upon any spirit with so lively an impression, and had but Cleopatra stayed long enough to witness the effects it produced though her anger had borrowed the resentment and Soul itself of Tiberius, it must have relented; the first thing he did after his senses were once awake and he had quitted the tree that supported him, was to advance some paces forwards, as if he had intended to follow her, and crying out with a feeble voice: Stay Cleopatra, said he, and if thou fliest my justification, at least look back upon the satisfaction I prepare thee, I will not be innocent against thy will, it is guilt enough to be the mark of thy indignation.  
At these words his eyes mantled themselves in an Eclipse of darkness, his forces forsook him, and at the next step he attempted to make, he fell upon the grass without either feeling or knowledge.  
I presently flew to him all dismayed, and finding he was in a deep swoon, after I had often jogged and called him in vain, I ran to the Fountain that was not far off, and brought back water, which I threw in his face in abundance; at last his faculties returned to their several functions, and perceiving himself between my arms; Prithee let me alone Emimilius, said he, I would fain die; So you shall Sir, said I, if this mishap that spurs you to it, can show you a just cause to pick a quarrel with your life, but by the God's assistance I shall not suffer it before you can make a clearer construction of your misfortune; and what greater illustration can I ask; replied he in a languishing tone, than I have already received from Cleopatra's mouth, who in terms that needed no comment, has sentenced my my life, in condemning me to see her no more: with that he looked about for his Sword, which by a timely precaution I had seized before, and the Gods were willing his grief, assisted by the malady that then began to assault him, should subdue his strength to such an Ebb, and the tender affection I had ever for him, so redoubled my mind, as whatever struggling he made, he could neither wrest mine nor his own from my hands; 'tis true, his unwillingness to hurt me, would not let him employ all his puissance which I could never have resisted, but I would myself into such a posture, as he would have found it hard to have forced my resolution, unless he had killed me: since thou wilt not suffer me, said he, to fall by my own Sword, thou shalt see me run otherwise to my death, wherein thou canst not stop me.  
At these words, whose every syllable was divided with sighs, he rolled himself upon the grass, still pouring forth complaints, capable to have melted the savagest Hearts that ever gave a rocky resistance to pity.  
After I had suffered him to take a long tiring upon his grief without interruption; Sir, said I, if you humour this obstinacy, to run so eagerly upon your death, for one single proof of Cleopatra's anger, you will show less Courage and Virtue, than the meanest Woman; had death divorced you from the person you loved, were she married to Tiberius, or any other whose felicity had power to murder all our hopes, despair might then be pardoned; but for a single fit of Choler, that may resolve into the airy nothing that begot it; for the Caprichio of Spirit, who as it hath strayed from Love to anger, may step back again with the same facility from Anger to Affection, or a Malady, whose Cure you carry about you, for a Disease, which rising from no other womb but Report, and fostered with a false opinion, will give way to a single justification, and fly like a thin mist before the beams of truth; to throw yourself upon Death, is a design unworthy of your Courage, unbecoming the lustre of your Judgement, and disproportioned to those great endowments the Gods have given you: I allow Queen Cleopatra, Cato, and the King your Father bravely fled the world, to fly the shame that was intended them, but that a petty birth, (either made by Jealousy or any other motive) in affection, should rashly procure a self-sacrifice: Ah Sir! and where should be the Judgement? where the Virtue? where the Resolution in adversity? and where the Constancy I have so often known you preach to others.  
Coriolanus was too great a Master of reason, not to discern some in this Discourse, but sorrow had so entirely prepossessed his Soul, as reason and truth both lost their influence, and had I not added the interest of honour, of which he had ever been more sensible than of all things else, my endeavours had doubtless been too weak to draw him from the precipice of Despair; Sir, said I, I know it must be some treacherous practice against your quiet that has raised this storm in Cleopatra's breast, try to dis-invalue the truth, which once discovered, will either help you to disabuse the Princess, and wipe out those impressions have been given her of you or guide your revenge to those artificial Enemies that plotted this mischief against you. Sir, I assume the liberty to tell you, that your honour binds you to allow these reasons, nor can you without sinning against your Courage, resign to Tiberius (whom I suspect the Author of your disgrace) a treasure, which none but his subtlety can carry from you.  
All that I said to my Master, though ill expressed, was yet so strongly built upon truth and reason, as he could find but little to resist it, and he listened so eagerly to the proposal I made him, of seeking his revenge upon those that had destroyed his repose, as at last he concluded to prolong his days only in homage to that intention; and after he had taken some time to balance this resolution in his thoughts.  
Yes Emilius, said he, I will live and but live to no other purpose, than to give death to those whose perfidy has dropped so many stains upon my innocence, yet I feel my grief grown strong enough to post me from the world, before it lends me the leisure to act these thoughts, unless a timely succour prevents it: O Death! pursued he, lifting up his eyes to heaven, as they swum in their own tears, if by thy means Cleopatra may be satisfied, my heart shall receive thee with open embraces; and thus he went on enlarging his laments, which would never have ended, if, (perceiving the night at hand) I had not conjured him to remount his Horse, and return to the City where I hoped his woes would find a lenitive: as I still pressed him more eagerly to retire, by chance. I touched his arm, and found by the high distemper of heat, that a violent Fever had seized him; this fomented a fear of his life that increased my importunity, which at last prevailed so far, as he grew contented to quit that unlucky place, where he had received so bloody a displeasure, to go learn the cause of his misfortune at Syracuse, and find out Tiberius, whom we both suspected guilty of laying the train: earnestly inferring these hopes, I got him on horseback, and at last drew him to the City, which we entered without any precaution, because the night had already shed her shades upon the earth: we had some trouble to find our lodging, because the City was so every where pestered and stuffed with perpetual throngs of people, we were no sooner gotten thither, but perceiving my Prince's malady increase, I quickly got him to bed; he would not be persuaded to take any thing, nor did I much press it, because his Fever was grown very violent, but the next day it raged to that height, as I really feared his life, and within three more it was almost despaired by all those that undertook him.  
I had no easy Province to combat his aversion to remedies, but the desire of surviving the revenge he intended, upon those that had ruined him in Cleopatra's breast, which still by perpetual urge I remembered to imprint in his memory, contributed more to his cure than all other considerations; but, to exasperate his anguish, the third day after he fell sick the Emperor parted from Syracuse, followed by the whole Court with the Princess Cleopatra, however I insinuated some Comfort; by representing, that he needed not desire to be near his Enemies, so long as his malady tied his hands, that when the return of his health had once unbound them, it would not be hard to find them out, and follow the motives wherewith his just resentments inspired him.  
The fourth day his disease rose to the height, that he scarce spoke any more by the rule of reason, and was ordinarily in a high frenzy, yet in the greatest fury of his fits, he had ever the name of Cleopatra, in his mouth, often those of Tiberius and Augustus, but I had the hardest task in the world to seduce the attention of those that served him, for fear his wild discourse should betray us: when his senses returned, and he knew there was none to overhear him, he would break into loud complaints against Cleopatra's ingratitude; and, sometimes figuring to himself, that the harsh usage she had given him, was the child of chance, and sprung from no other womb than the levity of her Spirit, coloured with a pretext of imaginary offences, referred to which, his strictest examination could not find a spot in his Innocence, he fell into a grief that disclaimed all comfort, and held a Discourse with himself in the most passionate manner that ever was brought forth by the greatest pangs of afflictions; but within one moment relapsing into his frenzy: Ah! behold Tiberius, cried he, stay the Traitor, then addressing his language to Cleopatra, he brought forth a broken Discourse without any order or method, yet mingled such things in the wild composure, as might have given dangerous hints to the standers by, had they lent attention.  
When I saw his malady was like to grow tedious, by his Command I dispatched Strato to Pelorus, to send back all the persons that followed us in two of the Ships to Mauritania, leaving none in the third but such as were necessary to conduct us.  
The 15th day my Master had a favourable Crisis, from which the Physicians concluded the danger overblown, and a few days after the Fever left him, but he was still so weak, as it was long before he could use his legs, and it cost him six week's time before he recovered a condition to quit his chamber; about that time demanding news of those that served us, we were told that fame talked of nothing else in Syracuse but the Mauritanian War, that the Emperor (resolved to pay back the affront he received in the loss of that Realm) had not only sent 100000 men, under command of Domitius Aenobarbus and Strato to reinvade it, but had armed all the African Countries in his quarrel under the Roman Dominion, and denounced the threat of War, in case they refused to march against the King of Mauritania, who in all appearance, not able to resist so great a power, would quickly be trampled under foot.  
Coriolanus roused at this report with a pique of honour (for he could not bow to any other Interest) was sorry Mauritania wanted his presence in a condition to defend it, and I think the desire to arm his against those Enemies, that went to disturb the Kingdom, advanced his recovery.  
In effect he made such haste to be well, as in a few days he was able to ride, and disposed himself to quit Syracuse, when by a succession of frowns, which as well as favours, took their share in his fortune; Lucius Varus Governor of Sicilia, friend and near Kinsman to Tiberius, having learned, by I know not what means, that my Master was in Siracusa, and the house where he lodged, came with a great guard into his Chamber, and took him Prisoner in his bed for Caesar's Interests.  
This accident marvellously surprised me, but my Master showed not the least astonishment, and regarding Varus (whom he had often seen at Rome, and known of Tiberius party) without Emotion: Thou hast done good service for thy friend Tiberius, said he, who, while I had liberty, could never have worn his life securely, but now Varus thou hast given it him entire, thou shalt do me a less injury by taking mine, than letting me live without a power to assist my Country. It is not the Interest of Tiberius, replied Varus, but those of Caesar your declared Enemy, and the obligations due from my charge, that makes me seize your liberty.  
This said, he led us to a strong house in the City, where he set a strict guard upon my Master: at the beginning, animosity had the upper hand in that action, but he had not long frequented my Prince, whom he often visited, before his virtues had subdued him to a kind of repentance, and slackened his intended haste of giving Augustus an account of his surprisal, for fear he should pronounce some cruel arrest against him, and possible he could have been contented to return him his liberty, if the danger of Caesar's anger, and his own life had not dissuaded it. However he caused him to be served with all the respect his condition demanded, yet held him Prisoner three whole months, which, by the help of a greater affliction he supported so sweetly, as all the time his Captivity lasted, he was never heard to complain of any thing else but Cleopatra's unkindness.  
His restraint would have been longer, and doubtless more dangerous, if Claudius Varus Son to Lucius, a virtuous young man, that had served under Coriolanus in Asturia, and been obliged by many noble offices to his generosity, had not returned to Syracuse, leaving Augustus in Macedonia, who is since passed into Asia, on purpose to come back to us upon the invitation of a design.  
His father awed by the requisites of his charge, and the fear of punishment, if he longer deferred it, was at last constrained to inform Caesar by a Messenger, that Coriolanus was taken; he that carried this intelligence, addressed himself first to his Master's Son to present him to Caesar, but young Claudius had no sooner learned the cause that conducted him thither, but calling to mind what a deep score he was in to Coriolanus nobleness, and preserving a marvellous esteem of his virtues, resolved to put by the danger that was leveled at his life, and could not have miss it, if once the notice of his surprisal had arrived at Augustus' ear; upon these reflections he undertook to deliver the Message himself, and the next day telling him that brought it, that Caesar, already advertised what his business imported, had commanded him back to Sicily, with private instructions to his Father, he dismissed him without the speech of the Emperor, and presently put himself upon the way to Syracuse, where he rendered himself with a winged expedition; and quickly informed his Father he was sent by Caesar, to deliver him his imperial thanks for the affection he had witnessed to his service, with a charge to keep the Prisoner as before, till he received a new order for his disposal: In all his open discourses, he expressed but a little desire to see my Master, and the better to disguise his intentions, he hid all the high thoughts he had for him within the mask of a personated severity against him: but a few days after, when we least dreamt of any such assistance, we saw him about midnight, or later, enter my Master's Chamber.  
Coriolanus presently knew him, and raising himself up in his bed, to demand the cause of his coming at such an hour: Sir, said be, I owe too much to that generous treatment I once received at your hands, and know too well what your virtues may challenge, to suffer your longer stay where danger threatens so loudly; rise Sir, if you please, and follow me out from hence, I shall presently secure you your liberty, and put you in a condition to turn your back upon Sicilia.  
My Master too well acquainted with the virtuous inclinations of that young man to distrust him, presently calling to Strato for his clothes; I am too unfortunate, said he, embracing his Preserver, to hope a power of weighing my requital in an equal balance against this noble office, but if the Gods lend me the use of my life, it shall ever dwell with my memory, that I hold it of your goodness, and will ever be ready to pay it back upon your Interest. The glory that springs from the act itself, replied young Varus, does over-pay the poor service I have done you; but Sir, if you please, make haste from hence, lest too long a delay should forfeit the occasion: This said, he commanded a slave to bring him his Arms, which, because of their beauty he had taken care to preserve, and leading us down by a little pair of Stairs into a Cave, we rose again in the Street, at a breach made in the corner of a Wall, where we found four horses ready to receive us (three of which were the same that belonged to my Master, and a faithful servant of his that had been instrumental to the contrivance of our liberty) which was to conduct us to the Promontory of Pachinus, where there lay a Ship ready rigged to carry us away; I shall forbear the repartition of my Master's acknowledgements to Varus, which fell far short of what what they would have been in another season, when a greater estimation of his life might have set a higher price upon the benefit; but as well as his sorrows would give him leave, he testified his resentments of the generous act, and, by Varus importunity, getting on Horseback, upon the pawn of his word for the man's fidelity, remitting himself to his conduct, we quitted Siracusa, and road all night at a great rate towards Pachinus, where we arrived betimes the next day, and found the Ship ready to receive us: after my Master had rewarded the faithful guide with the gift of some Jewels, we presently went aboard, and spread our Sails for Mauritania. Two days had we followed that course, but the third, meeting some Vessels, known by those that conducted ours for Sicilian Merchants that trassiqued into Africa, my Master desirous to know what report spoke of the Mauritanian War, stayed to ask some questions; but we no sooner opened our mouths upon that subject, when the men, very forward to unlade their news; Mauritania, said they is reduced under the Roman Dominion, those which the King of that Country left to command in his place, have been defeated in three battles, and all the Cities frighted by this success into their old obedience, have opened their gates, and implored the clemency of Augustus. This news was confirmed the same day by divers other Ships we encountered, that passed us a more particular account; we understood that Hippias had been killed in a battle Lisippus taken Prisoner and carried to Rome, that the Inhabitants of the first Towns they stormed, had been all put to the Sword without distinction of Age or Sex, and that this politic rigour, joined with the dreadful puissance Augustus had sent to invade their Country, so intremidated all the rest, as they entirely submitted to what ever conditions the Conqueror was pleased to impose, that all the parts upon the Coast of afric were seized and guarded so strictly by the Romans, as it was impossible for any vessel to put in without passing their examen: and in fine, we clearly and distinctly understood, that Coriolanus was a King without a Kingdom, and of all that noble conquest, which had cost such seas of blood (by a dismal vicissitude of Fortune) there remained no more than the naked glory of those actions by which he effected it.  
One thing Sir I must tell you, that may claim your wonder; my Master whose important loss might well have justified a grand regret, let fall so little regard of Fortune's malice, as his face scarce acknowledged a mark of a new displeasure; and indeed his thoughts were so ingross'd with the sense of Cleopatra's inconstancy, as whatever power it might have exercised upon any other Spirit her Soul had no room for the later misfortune.  
After he had stood some time without expressing his thoughts by any of his actions: Cleopatra, said he, for thy sake I only recovered a Crown, but since it is fallen beneath thy scorn, and with it, him that prided himself with a hope to place it upon thy head, the Gods all know I have lost it without the allowance of a sigh, and after the ruin of those hopes that related to thee, there is not another mischief in Fortune's power, can sink deep enough into my breast to find a feeling. At these words, he caused the ship to be stayed, and commanded those that stood at the Helm, to change their course for Alexandria (where by report of those that told us the Mauritanian story, Augustus was shortly to be in person, and had already been expected by some that waited his arrival, to treat with him upon the affairs of Asia) he resolved either to perish or kill Tiberius, whom suspicion could only accuse for the late misfortune, to this he easily brought the Merchant's consent at the price of some presents that he made them. And since it is now time to put a close to this tedious story, I shall only tell you, that after a happy Navigation, we landed safely upon this Coast, where our stay had been three days old, when we first encountered you; so soon as we were set ashore, he gave leave to the Merchants that had propriety in the ship to put off again to Sea, and go whither they pleased, never troubling his thoughts with the care of his own return, and reserving no greater Equipage about him than Strato, myself, and our Horses: we entered very late and unknown into Alexandria, where we learned the Emperor's arrival was really expected within a few days, and that the Governor was preparing to give him a magnificent reception, but my Master impatient of knowing further, sent his faithful Strato to find out Augustus, with order to inform himself, if Tiberius was at Court, and whether common discourse made any mention of his Marriage with Cleopatra.  
The expectation of this intelligence, which Strato was to bring us to a house where we lodged not far hence, has detained my Master here; who, but for that reason, would have made no stop till he had found out a fit place to be the scene of his tragic design; in the mean time not able to endure the Society of men, he daily went out to breathe his woes in the solitariest walks he could light on, and such a melancholy employment as this, guided him to the place you had chosen, where encountering the valiant stranger, you know what obliged him to draw his Sword.  
See Sir the faithful relation you desired of my Master's life, for the vast extension of which, all his adventures are my advocates to plead your pardon; and now Sir, you have that confirmed which I told you at the beginning of my story, of Fortune's malicious obstinacy in the persecution of virtuous persons.  
'Tis true, said the Prince Tyridates, interrupting Emilius, the world cannot boast a person that has given a fairer evidence of virtue, and grandeur of Courage, than the Prince your Masters, and had Fortune been impartial to his deserts, it would not only have reascended the throne of his Ancestors, but mounted that of the whole universe; Thus he went on, enlarging the Character of Coriolanus merit with a greater variety of praises which when he had ended, no longer able to stay from his sight, and perceiving the night approach, he went from his Chamber with Emilius to go visit a guest of that importance; but now let us leave them a little in this Estate, to return to the fair Queen of Aethiopia, whom we left in the power of the Pirate Zenodorus.    

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA: OR, Love's Masterpiece. PART III.  

LIB. I.  
ARGUMENT.  
The Pirate Zenodorus, carries his fair Prisoner, with a foul purpose, into an adjacent Wood, the perpetration of his Lust is prevented, and his life taken by the Sword of Cornelius Gallus, whom his sports had invited thither, and the Queens cries directed to her rescue. He receives some concealed wounds, from the first beams of her beauty, invites her to Alexandria, where she meets with the Princess Elisa, daughter to Phraates, the resemblance of their birth, faces, and fortunes contracts an entire amity betwixt them. Candace discourses to her the story of her life. Caesario surprises the discovery of her affection, by an ambush in the Garden. Tirybasus boldly discloses his love to the young Princess, is scornfully repulsed, and seemingly gives it over. He commands the King's Army against the Nubian Rebels, beats them twice, and the third time is overthrown. He falls sick, and is called home by the King, who attended by Caesario, goes in person to that War. The young Prince's gallantry and discretion wins the love and admiration of all the Army. The King is mortally wounded in a battle, bequeathes Candace and his Crown to Caesario, who after the King's death, takes the command of the Army, deeply vows a revenge of his blood upon the Rebels, makes his Oath good in five signal victories, and at last completes it by the death of Evander, the Enemy's General whom he bravely kills in a single Duel.  
THe Pirate Zenodorus, charged with his rich prey, flew from the place where he had left his men engaged in combat against the Princes, with all the speed he could spur his horse to. The fair Queen of Aethiopia, amazed with her misfortune, and almost intranced with the grief of her sudden surprisal, was, at first, too feeble to retard his Carreir, nor had her Spirits recovered their usual vigour, when the Barbarian arrived at that part of the coast, where he had left his vessels riding, but when his Eyes missed them there, his astonishment was matchless, and enlarging their Commission, he perceived them afar, making off to Sea, with all advantage the wind could lend them; the sight of this, rend some sighs from the Pirates breast, and suspecting his Lieutenant's infidelity, he vomited his first resentments, filled with menaces and imprecations against heaven, yet he did not so abandon the care of his proper safety, but he reserved still judgement enough to weigh the danger, whereto his stay in that place was like to expose him, not doubting but his enemies, (whom he left in a condition to obtain a speedy victory) would follow him thither, so soon as their Swords were at leisure: not knowing what way to make choice of, nor how to preserve his precious booty, he was balancing his angry thoughts, how to frame a resolution, when the fair Queen began to awake from her first astonishment, and her Spirits returning by degrees, to their proper employment, she fell a struggling for liberty with more vigour, than she had yet been able to use; and raising her hands to bid battle to his face, by the new difficulty of that smart War, she hastily determined his resolution (which was little older than the first proposal) to take the shelter of an adjacent Wood: then, in spite of her resistance reinforcing his hold, and turning his Horse's head to the Wood, he spurred him thither to the height of his speed: his companion, whom Clitie (despising her safety since it only offered itself upon terms of deserting her Mistress) had suffered to carry her away with less trouble, followed him so fast at the heels, as, in a short time, they had penetrated a great part of the Wood; but it was then no longer possible for Zenodorus, to command Candace's forces, and tearing his visage with her nails, she struggled so powerfully with the Pirate, as not able to keep his hold any longer, he was forced to let her slide at her length, upon the grass, and as she fell, her garments giving a little way to the rudeness of the action, she discovered the beauty of a Leg, that kindled fresh desires in the Barbarians breast, this made him hastily throw himself from his Horse, while the fair Queen ashamed of the last accident, nimbly started upon her feet, and ran with all the force and speed she could borrow of her fears, towards a part of the Wood that was thinnest, by her loud cries inviting the pity of Gods and Men to her succour.  
Clitie, perceiving she had forced her liberty, fidelity and desire to follow her Lady, drew up all her strength to recover her own, and, being detained by a man, more weak and less interessed than Zenodorus, she found it not hard to break the prison of his Arms, and throwing herself upon the Earth, she swiftly pursued the steps of her Mistress with all the speed that loyalty could lend her.  
Zenodorus was soon upon his feet, and though fear and desire to escape the ravishes, bestowed their wings upon the Princess' heels, she found them both too weak to maintain the ground she had gotten: her pursuer had recovered the space betwixt them, and already stretched out his Arm, to seize her garments behind, when she first heard the noise of divers Horses, and presently after saw eight or ten Cavaliers coming up upon the spur, whom the Chase had led into that Wood, and the Queens cries conducted thither to her rescue.  
He that appeared, and really was Master to the rest, pausing a while upon the object, and placing his eye upon the Pirates action, ran to him with his Sword in his hand, and flew upon him with a brave anger; the Barbarian grew pale at the sight and cry of his Enemy, and almost at the same time felt himself pierced through with his Sword, and thrown to the ground with the shock of his Horse: his companion presently turned his back upon the danger, and fled it with the speed of a villains fear to be overtaken, and the fair Queen in one auspicious moment, saw herself, and Servant at liberty: yet her striving to outrun the Ravisher, and the rude toil she suffered in getting loose from his loathed embraces, had wrought her to so much weariness, as her forces failed just at the arrival of rescue, and she no sooner saw her Enemy fall, but her weakness reduced her (a few paces from him) to make choice of the same posture, whither Clitie presently came to repose herself at her Lady's feet.  
The principal of her preservers, whose face spoke well in his behalf, and exposed the Index of an eminent dignity, no sooner beheld her in that condition, but he and part of his men left their horses, and advancing towards her, his eyes accepted the invitation of her face, where he found employment for a delightful contemplation; but he had not gazed many moments before he paid the homage of astonishment and wonder to that admirable beauty; at first his amazement could command no better expression than his silence, with a look that spoke itself over the shoulder to his companions, but a desire to untie the hands of his reason, on purpose to study the object better, dissipating his first surprisal, he approached the Queen, and saluting her with an action full of civility: I know not your quality, said he, that have forced the admiration of persons, who thought themselves able to see the fairest things in the world without astonishment, but whoever you are, I am so sensible of the first encounter, and to see you yet in an estate, so little conformed to the judgement I have passed upon your person and condition, as if it were not in my power to offer you comfort, I would learn to think myself very unfortunate.  
At this discourse, the fair Princess raised her eye to the visage of him that made it, and finding something there that might claim the respect due to an uncommon person, she beheld him with a regard that began her acknowledgement for his protection, this double consideration so far abridged her weakness of its due, as to raise herself half from the earth; Whatever I am, (replied she in the same language he spoke, wherein she was perfectly skilled) you see an unfortunate person that owes you her life, and possible, something else more precious; what you have done in my defence, has fairly charectered your generosity, but there is yet something more to do, that will add new graces to its beauty, and invite it to a brave employment, in carrying succour to some persons, whose worth will deserve your assistance, which, not far from hence were basely assaulted by a great number of his fellow villains, whom your Sword so lately punished.  
The Queen's discourse was delivered with charms too invincible to fail in the design that framed it, nor was the person that received it less obliged by them, than the duties of his charge to grant her desires: but he had already so fastened his heart to those delicacies he found about her, as her face disputed against her tongue, and rendered her entreaty incapable to divide him so soon from her presence, only turning towards his followers, which by the addition of fresh comers in, were already swelled to the number of twenty, he commanded the better part to take the Queen's instructions, where to find and help her distressed friends, and, keepin the rest about his person. He presented a couple of Horses to herself and Clytie, with a well-framed entreaty, to accept a more befitting and safer retreat, than any Egypt could else afford; but, perceiving by her face, that her thoughts agreed not in their votes, to that proposition; To clear all your scruples said he, of receiving my services, I am obliged to let you know, that I am Cornelius Gallus Praetor of Aegyt, and by Caesar 's commission, absolute Master of this Province, from me you are, and aught to hope all sorts of comforts; nor can your wisest fears make choice of more security against your Enemies, or the menaces of any other danger, than my Alexandria does promise; the City is not many furlongs hence, and, if you will give your patience the injury to wait it, I will send for a Chariot to conduct you thither.  
The Queen's inclinations entirely bend her to that place, where she might examine her Caesario's danger which yet she could not resolve to act, without too blunt a rejection of the Praetor's civilities, and the tie of so great an obligation, linked with the awe of his authority, showed her too much reason in her fears to refuse his proffer; besides she then found herself no longer Mistress of her own actions, nor could Cornelius be accounted a friend to his honour, by his permission to humour her own desires, in going unguarded from a danger, from which he so lately defended her; by the advice of these thoughts after she had turned a glance upon Clitie, that signified she was not yet at liberty to own her intentions, she told Cornelius, that the confidence she reposed in his virtue, and the remembrance of so fresh an engagement, had left no scruple to oppose her consent of increasing his train to Alexandria, and their accepting the retreat (for a few days) he had so nobly offered her; she refused to stay the Chariots coming Cornelius would have sent for, and suffering herself to be set upon a Horse, was presented with two men to sustain her on each side, she accompanied the Troop to Alexandria, where within a quarter of an hour they arrived.  
At the entrance of that proud City, Candace felt her heart grow tender at those visible hints of her Caesario's Interest, but that remembrance stuck itself there with a deep sense, when she saw herself in the Palace where he was born, and had been nourished.  
Cornelius (who had already learned from his newborn passion, the requisites of an extraordinary respect to the Lady) conducted her to a rich and pompous lodging, where the great Queen Cleopatra had passed a part of her days, and by fortune's contrivance, the very same, where she had disclosed to the world that Son of Caesar; her attention, to the recital was made her of that Tragedy; was mingled with a abundance of sighs, and awaked in her soul a remembrance full of pity and veneration, for the Fortune of so great a Queen.  
Cornelius was ready to leave her to her private repose, when he saw a part of those enter, that by Candace's entreaty he had sent to the Prince's relief, who being demanded how they had thriven in their late employment, it was replied, they had laid out their pains in vain, for being arrived at the place, whereto they were guided by the Lady's directions, they had only there found the marks of a great and bloody Combat, the Earth covered with blood, and fifteen or twenty men lay stretched upon the ground, among which, their endeavour to learn the truth, had found two still living, who related the event of the combat, and confessed themselves, and all those that lay dead about them, to be Soldiers belonging to the Pirate Zenodorus, that they had been brought into that condition by the invincible valour of four persons, and that after their defeat, the Victors were gone thence upon the spur (as they conceived) in pursuit of a Lady, whom their Captain had carried away.  
From this Discourse Candace took abundance of comfort, or at least her heart was eased of much disquiet, by this assurance that her dear Caesar was escaped the danger, and upon this pleasing subject, her thoughts began to grow busy, when Cornelius (unwilling to debar her that liberty) took his leave, and left her alone with Clitie in chamber.  
From that day he took order she should be served as a person, whose quality he suspected, did much overtop her present garb and appearance, and, though he was desirous to learn the truth, he was not willing to betray an impatient curiosity, till time should offer an occasion to do it with a more becoming pretence; but if Cornelius had a desire to know, the Queen had as great a design to conceal her quality, and to that end instructed Clitie for her future demeanour. This caution involved no ingratitude for the service Cornelius had rendered her, though she could do no less than regard him as a person that usurped the right of her dear Caesario, and a Lieutenant to the cruel Enemy that had passed such a bloody sentence on his life: besides, she had discovered in his face and language, some signs of a budding affection, and that sole consideration quickly grew fruitful enough to be the Mother of those twins, Distrust and Secrecy. Nor was her suspicion groundless, and that Man, who, possible had past the preceding part of his life, without feeling that the Boy had a bow, had received so powerful an inclination, from the first Rays of Candace's beauty to serve her, and that so sensibly augmented, by the enchanting sweetness of her garb and language, as in a few days time it became strong enough to leave nothing free in the soul of Cornelius, his first night's rest was interrupted by the agreeable Idea of his fair guest, and almost wholly consumed in the entertainment of such lovesick thoughts, and amorous muse, as had yet been strangers to his breast.  
At first he made some attempts to defend himself (already taking fears from the first inquietudes he had suffered, from this encroaching malady) but in the sequel, all their arguments struck sail to the pleasing flatteries of such hopes, as a man so considerable in person and quality, might properly conceive. If this Lady, said he, be of an illustrious birth, as there is much about her to settle that opinion, which takes another proof from so many accidents and effects of Fortune, who (as we daily see) makes it her sport to toss such Tennis balls, I may safely raise and own my pretences to her lawful possession, without offending my honour: but if her veins hold no blood that will deserve my alliance, I will try to find another way to satiate my desires; in the mean time, I shall leave no stone unrolled (by the safe and gentle ways of service) that may win me her affections, and since the Gods have put her into my hands, by an adventure so uncommon, I will try to improve that advantage, nor shall any consideration persuade me to resign her liberty.  
This was the Praetor's resolution, whereof the Queen's ignorance defended her from a sad resentment. In the mean time, that tedious night became a witness of her restless apprehensions; and the Image of her dear Caesario, who wounded (as her thoughts had figured him, and ranging on all sides in quest of her) still returning to her timorous fancy, scarce left her one hour of sleep that was not broken by those inquietudes.  
The next day she was visited by Cornelius, who endeavoured to divertise, by showing her all the beauties of the Palace, and straining his fancy to find out divers other inventions, that might offer her delight, but all had little power to dispossess or deceive the deep melancholy that oppressed her spirit, and though by a discreet complaisance, she paid him her regards with a visage serene enough, yet it might be easily observed, she could not repulse those cruel agitations, that her heart sent thither.  
Every single action of hers blew up new flames in the Praetor's breast, but whatever violence he felt they inflicted, was all close Prisoner to Candace's Majesty, which imprinted a respect that imposed his silence, and left him no power to set any of those thoughts at liberty.  
After he had passed a part of the day in her company, he was called away by some pressing affairs that demanded the rest, which the Princess spent only with Clitie, upon the ordinary task her melancholy imposed, she thought it required of her affection and civility, to send some body to Tyridates' house, as well to learn (if possible) what became of Caesario, as receive the knowledge of that Prince's condition, and render him an account of her own, to whom she remembered herself so deeply obliged; but, this resolved, she wanted a person proper for that employment; and though she did not doubt but Cornelius would readily furnish her, she thought there was more circumspection due to the fear of discovering that, by an imprudent confidence, which both her desire and discretion devoted to silence.  
It was then the season of the year, when the Sun over-warmed that Climate, with a prodigality of beams, and that Evening (the night being well advanced before sleep could fasten any charm upon Candace's eyes) to take a cool refreshment, by tasting the Evenings dewy breath, she went to walk upon a Terasse near her Chamber, where she had already taken some turns before the night's arrival. This was a large open gallery, supported by Marble Pillars, whence the unrestrained eye might freely gather a pleasing variety of objects, both from the Sea, and all the adjacent places to Alexandria, her Chamber was not the only neighbour to this Terasse, but (being of the same length with that side of the Palace) it ran all along by divers other Lodings near to hers; to this place, the fair Queen, clad in her night gown, attended by Clitie, was come to take in some fresher air, where (by the sight of the celestial Tapers) sometimes walking, sometimes leaning upon the Balister, whence she sent her eye as far upon the Sea, as the dusky night would give it leave, one while parling with her own thoughts, and then discoursing with Clitie upon the sad estate of her Fortune.  
In this employment she had already passed some time, when approaching to that Terass furthest from her Chamber, Clitie upon whose arm she leaned, made a sudden stop to tell her, she perceived they were not alone in that place, and that she had seen a glimpse of some other persons near it, and overheard their discourse. The Queen (who in a deep discourse of her melancholy thoughts had neither eye nor ear at leisure for such a discovery) took some astonishment from Clitie's words, unwilling to be seen in the condition she was, and desirous to escape a surprisal at an hour so suspected, was turning to go back to her Chamber, when her steps were arrested by the sweetness of a voice, which she presently knew proceeded from a person of her own Sex, this was mingled with many sighs, and those succeeded by some plaints, which delivered themselves at her ear in so sad, and yet so charming a harmony, as she found it impossible to carry herself away, so soon as she resolved it, this fixed her for a time upon the place, and giving Clitie a sign to make no noise, she lent attention unto the discourse of some Ladies, whom a design like hers had conducted thither. Treacherous Element! said a person, the tone of whose voice seemed the most delicate and agreeable to Candace that ever feasted her sense, faithless Element! whom I have trusted with too much indiscretion, either restore what thou hast taken, or take the miserable remains of what thou hast robbed me of: but why (pursued she with a storm of sighs, that for a time denied a passage to her words) why should I demand a gem of thee, which the cruelty of men and not thine has ravished, those Monsters I should charge with the greater infidelity, and may with more reason (though I fear in vain) call them to account for my losses.  
This afflicted person pronounced these words with so sad an accent as wroughtupon the Queen to go a share in her sufferings, but her stock of pity was much improved when after some moments of silence she heard her go on this manner: Just Gods, if you have allotted a punishment for my disobedience, why is not my head the only mark for your bolts of vengeance, without discharging your anger upon Innocence and Virtue itself? and thou dear person, whose loss I deplore, and whose memory I ought to embalm, with tears refined from my purest blood, thou knowest by that unshackled intellect, which, (Souls once stripped of their clay, enjoy by the right of reversion) that I have still carefully cherished all resentments due to thy dear memory; or by some other miracle, allied to those that have drawn thee from the precipice of so many perils, look upon that heart, that never oped a window to any but thee, and read over those tender thoughts, that affection daily hatches in thy behalf. Ah, weak hope! pursued she, fond imagination, upon what shallow and shadowy foundations do you build yourselves? will you belly my eyes that saw him fall into the merciless waves? and in fine, would you make me believe, that by losing what I love dearest I have lost my memory and judgement too? do you seek a shelter in my soul to excuse the baseness of surviving him? and can you find no colour for the cowardice of a feeble Maid, that might well be frighted with the ugly image of Death? The afflicted party had drawn her griefs in a larger figure, if a throng of sobs had not cut off the current of her words, and they had scarce enjoined her silence, when it was thus broke off by another in her company.  
Madam, said she, if it be possible, receive some comfort, and do not throw yourself headlong into these extremities, so unbecoming the moderation, that hath sat so long at the helm of all your actions, rather direct your addresses to the Gods for assistance, which you know have ever been ready to remove your misfortune, and take a pattern from that miracle which yesterday they wrought in your behalf, of what they were able to do for his deliverance, whose loss we all deplore: Madam, they do not use to let fall their bounties by halfs upon such persons as yourself, whose innocence and virtue frames you so fair a title to their entire assistance, and if yesterday they brought you a miraculous succour, when no appearance could shape you a possibility of redress, why should you now throw away your hopes, when you know they have often snatched him from the jaws of dangers, that gaped as wide as this that seemed to swallow him. Ah Mother! replied the disconsolate person, how do your own thoughts belly this flattery? Gods! added she presently after, I can take no more blows at your hands. At these words she lost her speech, and fell into a swoon in the arms of two women that attended her, for so Candace judged it by the cries came from them, often repeating the name of Madam, and reflecting by this adventure upon the stranger's sufferings with a more passionate interest, than could be expected from a person, in whom the sense of another's misery, might well have been crushed by the sad weight of her own misfortunes, she directed her steps that way with Clitie, with an intention to offer her succour, when the women hastily carried her into her Chamber, which was near that place, and shut the door after them; though the fair Queen had not yet seen the face of this afflicted Lady, the sweetness of her voice and language had already gotten so much credit in her thoughts, and her Plaints (limned to a near resemblance with her own misfortunes) had bespoke so just a pity, as some unlicensed tear stole into an expression of her excellent nature into that persons condition. Ah Clytie, cried she, I see we are not the only marks of Fortune's malice, nor has she spent the stock of cruelty upon us, if I apprehend aright, I have found a Companion in misery, and if I may be permitted to see this dejected party, we will mutually strive to dull the sense of each others woes, by comparing our Calamities.  
At these words (led by a curiosity, that had no other parent but a generous commiseration) she went softly to the door, where they were newly entered, with an intent to endeavour an improvement of her discovery, but besides that the door was close bolted, there was so little noise made in the Chamber, as, after the misspending some serious attention, she gave over the hopes of present satisfaction.  
After this, she took some turns upon the Terasse, discoursing with Clytie, upon that adventure, which had taken so large a possession of her thoughts, as, for that night, it barred out the remembrance of those that had a hand in her proper fortunes: after she was got to bed, her cogitations still glided and glanced upon this subject, nor could her fancy get loose from these reflections, till sleep crept upon them unawares to quiet them.  
The next day, so soon as she might be civilly seen, she was visited by Cornelius and at that time he was not unwelcome, because from him she hoped some satisfaction of her longing desires to be instructed in the Fortunes of that desolate Lady, (so much influence and interest have the afflictions of others upon our souls, when they carry a resemblance to our own) yet finding some difficulty, to bring her last night's walk (which conducted her to that encounter) into the scene of their discourse, she was a little posed to manage her curiosity with all the caution it required; but Cornelius eased her of that pain; for he had no sooner bade her good morrow, and expressed such other civilities, as Custom and Fashion enjoined, which prevented the question she was framing in her thoughts, when believing himself obliged to give her the relation of that adventure. Madam, said he, since I had the honour to see you last, there has arrived an accident worthy of your notice, which I assure myself, when you have once understood it, you will take some interest. These words taught the Queen to levelly her judgement at a part of the truth, and was well-pleased to be quitted of her request, for what she was now only to pay her acceptation.  
Yesterday, said Cornelius, some vessels, that I sent out to scour the seacoasts, within sight of the shore encountered two Pirates ships, which (after they had cut in pieces the greatest part of those that defended them) they took and brought in a very rich prize, yet all the rest but cheap and worthless in comparison of a young Lady; whom they rescued from the rude hands of those cruel men, in that critical minute (as I received it from two of her Women-attendants) when they were ready and resolved to offer violence to her person; Madam, to commend a Beauty in your presence, for whom the Gods have ransakt the treasury of their skill to make the most accomplished piece that ever they put their hands to; I will only say, if my Eye had not first encountered with your Excellencies, I should have thought it impossible for the world to have shown me any thing so fair; Indeed I think you would have a hard task without the assistance of your Glass, to shape an Idea so handsome: but the confidence I have that your own Eyes (when you see her will find no dotage in these words, puts a gap to my farther description: we have lodged her in a Chamber near to yours, where she has already passed one night with her Woman, but if this Lady be fair, she is not less afflicted, and though I have endeavoured to plaster the wounds her sorrows have made, with as much comfort, and as fair language as the Laws of Hospitality and Courtesy, due to persons of her being, could put into my mouth, we had much ado to prevail with her, to receive any nourishment. I gave her yesterday a particular relation of the grand favour I received of Fortune, in being made an instrument of your safety; this only recital had power to borrow her attention, and bow the obstinacy of her griefs to the confession of some resentments: this morning one of her women asked me, if she might not be permitted to see you, and told me she hoped the tide of her Lady's griefs, would find an Ebb in the comforts of your society.  
The Queen (who had already taken in much affection at the ears of that accomplished person) replied, she would call it her happiness to receive the honour of her acquaintance, and though her present condition scarce allowed her a capacity to moderate the miseries of others, yet she would take a truce with her own misfortunes, on purpose to lessen the sense of hers if it were possible.  
Since you are so nobly resolved, answered Cornelius, she shall presently know of her honour you intent her, and I assure myself, that so soon as she is dressed, she will pay you her acknowledgement in a visit. Let her only know, if you please, said Candace, if she be in a condition to suffer the interview of a stranger, that I think myself obliged to pay that respect to a person so afflicted, and possible indisposed as herself; and by the account you have passed of her beauty, you have already given me so much impatience to see her, as it will not permit me to stay for her in my Chamber.  
Clitie, who by her own desire to know that Lady, was interessed in her Mistress' Curiosity, readily acted her Commands, and, a short time after, it was returned that the fair unknown had found a little failing in her health, by suffering the violence of some fits the night before, however she would make haste to apparel herself, with a purpose to prevent her design of a visit.  
The Queen (who knew the privilege of her Sex) allowed her the liberty to invade the Chamber before she was dressed, was desirous to acquit that trouble to her weak estate, and Cornelius, to whom the requisites of civility denied that freedom, only contented himself to conduct her to the Chamber door: when Candace entered, her face carried news of a grand addition to the starlight of beauty, which shined in that terrestrial orb, nor could these two persons encounter without the silent confession of a mutual astonishment. Our former description of Candace's beauty, dispenses with a farther recital, but we should deal unjustly with the fair unknown, should we hide them in silence, in whom the Queen found many delicacies that had a far better title to her wonder, than the Praetor's relation could challenge, the new fain snow was tanned in comparison of the refined purity of that white that was the ground of her complexion, and if sorrow had gathered the Carnations of her cheeks, shamed to see herself surprised half naked, though by persons of her own sex, had replanted of hers there, with such fresh advantages, as any weaker eye than Candace's, would have shrunk at the brightness of that mingled lustre; her mouth (as well for shape as Complexion) shamed the imitation of the best Pencils, and the liveliest colours; and though some petty intervals of joy wanted the smiles that grief had sequestered, yet she never opened it, but like the East at the birth of a beautiful day, and then discovered Treasures, whose excelling whiteness made the price inestimable; all the features of her face had so near a kindred of proportion and symmetry, as the severest Master of Appelles' Art might have called it his glory to have copied beauties from her, as the best of Models. The circumference of her visage, showed the extremes of an imperfect Circle, and almost form it to a perfect Oval, and this abridgement of marvels was tapered by a pair of the brightest stars that ever were lighted up by the hand of Nature: as their lustre might justly claim the title of Celestial, so their colour was the same with Heavens, there was a spherical harmony in their motion, and that mingled with a vivacity so penetrating, as neither the firmest eye, nor the strongest soul could arm themselves with a resistance of proof against those pointed glories, their very languishing dejection darted more charms through the clouds of griefs, that darkened their brightest glory, than all others could boast in their clearest Sunshine; nor were they ever so dimmed with woe, but they had still vigour enough left to open themselves a passage to hearts defended with the greatest insensibility; her head was crowned with a prodigious quantity of fair long hair, whereof the colour as fitly suited the beauty of her eyes, as imagination could make it. To these marvels of face were joined the rest of her neck, hands and shape, and there seemed a contest betwixt the form and whiteness of the two former, which had the larger commission from Nature to work wonders; and if she was not so tall of stature as Candace, in revenge of that she was far more slender, and her face much less than the fair Queen of Aethiopia's. In fine, her beauty was miraculous, and though the Queen's had something more majestic and more powerful to imprint respect, yet the fair strangers was far more delicate, and possible more exactly conformed to the nice rules of proportion; the regards of these two fair ones were equally tied to contemplate each others perfections by a serious attention; their actions quickly confessing their mutual astonishment, & reading over those marvels in a few moments, that merited as many years for a fit perusual, they had much ado to restrain their wonder from breaking out into loud interjections; the fair unknown, at first obliged by the Queen's civility, was disposing herself to repay it in acknowledgement, when the Queen whose courage was more unshaken, and whose mind and body kept a nearer degree to health, began the Compliment, and accosting her with an action that confessed the effects of the stranger's beauty, and partly accounted for the pity her Soul had already promised to her miseries. Cornelius, said she, would have given me cause of complaint, had he longer debarred me the view of so admired a person; I come Madam, continued she (saluting and embracing her with an affection that seldom rises to such a height, at the first interview) I am come (if possible) to bring comfort to your Calamities, and either to interweave my misfortune with yours, or augment mine own, by suffering my share of those that compose your affliction. The fair unknown, whom the Majesty of Candace's mind, and the gentle proffer of so much courtesy, had already touched with a deep respect, and a tender resentment, received her Caresses in as graceful a manner, as her sad condition would suffer, and struggling with her grief, that she might not appear either stupid, or ingrateful, after she had silently stayed some time in her arms, and tenderly striven to pay back part of her kindness in the dumb Elegance of embraces; Madam, said she, the confusion I borrow from these deserved marks of your goodness, has left me no liberty to express, as I ought, how my Soul resents it; and I should now learn to believe myself less unfortunate, could I find out a way to merit the Compassion of so excellent a person. I think the world has few, replied the Queen, that would refuse to bear a part in your afflictions, nor can such aspects as yours want the power to stamp all the passions, even upon those hearts that are able to make the rudest resistance, I am sure mine cannot hide the sensible effects it wrought within me, since my memory urging so ample an incitement, entirely to employ all my thoughts upon the consideration of mine own disasters, I have taken them from their task, to interess myself in yours, and to offer you my promise, that if my power falls short of a capacity to give you comfort, at least my affection shall enable me to go halves in your sufferings. If my mishaps, replied the Stranger, were of a nature to receive what you offer, I would come to you for a cure, without the least scruple of a doubt, but however the Gods have placed my despair beyond the reach of redress, I should prove myself very unworthy of the favours you have given me, should I wrestle with my woes, to accept, as I ought, these generous effects of your pity: 'tis of them, pursued she sighing, I implore a continuance, and I may safely assure you, for truth itself avers it, (repeating her embraces with an action capable to soften the rockiest hearts) the wrath of heaven cannot point you to a subject that has better claim to your compassion, nor a Soul that can receive it with a deeper acknowledgement.  
As she finished these words, some unruly tears broke away from her eyes, which yet she strove to hide as much as possibly, and stopping the current of her discourse to present a Chair to the Queen, she seated herself at the feet of her bed; beauty and handsomeness had here got reason on their sides to produce their usual effects, and these two excellent Ladies (in whom the knowledge of each others quality was yet limited to the mutual construction of their eyes, and the remembrance of their selves, might well have dispensed with all that respect that was not due from their grandeur to private persons) did yet render all that concealed justice required to each other, and only took a mutual esteem from view, which does not use to give such intelligence to other persons.  
So soon as they had seated themselves, they reassumed their discourse, and if the fair unknown found abundance of charms in Candace's language, the Queen encountered so much bewitching sweetness in the stranger's Genius, as it perfectly completed what her beauty had begun with much advantage, and whether caused by the conformity of their Fortunes, or the encounter of those admirable qualities they equally possessed, (which indeed, alone were capable to produce as prompt and sudden effects) but never did newborn amity, shoot up to such a stature in so short a time.  
After they had given some moments to the enlargement of their first discourse, the Queen desirous to lay the grounds of a greater confidence with the beautiful stranger: Think not, Madam, said she, that Fortune has used me more civilly than you, the age of Time is not much increased, since with a loss that possible was not designed in the frowns of your Fortune: I have sighed for another that may fill the other scale against your afflictions, and if (a few days since) my Soul did receive some solace; there is yet a remainder left uncured, that inflicts misery enough to justify my Declaration, that there are few persons in the world, whose woes are more strongly woven than mine, think it not strange this discourse seems to imply some preintelligence of your Fortune, all I know that concerned it, was received from your own mouth, by chance overhearing your last night's complaint and discourse with your women, upon the adjoining Terass: This contrivance of accident, first begat the compassion, and then the affection I have for you, and from thence was born a desire (which has since taken a considerable growth from the character was given of your beauty) to see and know you; be not troubled that I have discovered that without design, which I should have been sorry to have known, had I thought you could not part with the secret without displeasure, nor will demand a greater illustration, till you shall think me worthy of a greater confidence; in the mean time, take the obligation of my promise, that my thoughts shall scan what I know with no other curiosity, than what may improve my power, to comfort and serve you,  
If the face of the fair stranger confessed a bashful surprisal, at the beginning of this Discourse, the gentle close of it restored her some assurance, yet she could not so suddenly repulse that active vermilion that had invaded her cheeks, but there still stayed some behind, that dwelled not there, which endeavouring to hide with her hand; You have possible heard enough from my mouth, said she, to purchase me a severe censure in the opinion of those that are less indulgent, and, if not to defend myself with insensibility against the assault of a persons affection, that raised his batteries upon extraordinary merit, and not to support his loss without a violent grief, be a crime; I shall be doubtless a Delinquent in yours too: Indeed I should ever be prepossessed with Caution, to hide my follies from such persons as yourself, possible they are like to find less favour from your sublime virtue than others, whose feeble frailty may render them liable to the same imperfections, however since this mishap has be fallen me; I will endeavour to take comfort from the opinion I have of your goodness, and of that I think my observation has already made such clear discoveries, as I need not scruple to trust your knowledge with the most important secrets of my life. No, replied the Queen, I desire not that, till time shall ripen you an occasion to accord me your amity; nor will I abuse that opinion you have entertained of me, by demanding the proofs of it with so hasty an indiscretion. I hope you will not construe this, as if the resentments I have for you, and the Interest I take in your Fortunes, have not nourished an ardour to understand you better, but I shall stay for that favour, till I can ask it with less indecency, after I have given you some experiments of the confidence I have in you; of this you will receive no contemptible mark, when I shall discover and acquaint you with such things, as you will judge worthy to be locked up in secrecy, (especially in this place, that has particularly deserved my suspicion) from all other persons, but such as have an invincible guard for a secret. I have so poor an evidence of desert to show for this excess of nobleness, replied the fair unknown, as I dare not dispose myself to suffer it without prevention; Madam, this just civility is owing to the generous offer of your friendship, I will not ask, (if your leave allows it) a longer day than this, to assure you mine in parallel, and I beg your condescent to the proposition with the greater hope, since my tongue in this is the faithful servant to my heart, you will soon judge by what I shall tell you, that I do deposit no slight or trivial confidence in your breast, since, as my affairs are balanced, there are few persons on earth can be trusted with it without much danger. Stay then, replied the Queen interrupting her, perhaps I may want discretion to preserve your secret as I ought, and yet you shall leave off no disguise, (since my own thoughts have already looked through it) when I shall learn that your quality and mine are parallel. Your face, answered the unknown, with those marvels I observe about you, have already assured me, there is little difference in our extraction, and this will possible be better confirmed, when I have told you (continued she, letting fall her voice, for fear of being understood by some persons present, whose discretion had less credit in her thoughts than the rest) that I am called Elisa, and not only derived from the illustrious line of the Arsacides, but sole Daughter, and as yet legitimate Heir to Phraates, King of Parthia, known of all the Earth, by the grandeur of his Territories, and the effects of his cruelty. She made a stop at these words, when the Queen replied; Your birth, said she, is not more sublime, than before I conjectured from those visible marks, that expressed your strain to the high and Heroic, and since it is no longer just I should keep my condition in a mask, be pleased to know that I am called Candace, Princess and lawful Queen of Aethiopia.  
At this mutual Discourse, the two Princesses renewed the protestations of their promised amity, and that parity of descent kindling equal desires of respect and affection, they sweetly exchanged many tender Caresses, and laid the foundation of strong and perfect friendship.  
After some discourse, framed on purpose to confirm what they had said, the Princess Elisa thus continued; know well Madam, said she, that to this Declaration of my Name and Quality, I should adjoin the recital of these sad accidents that have perplexed my life; Madam, if you have a wish that desires this obedience, I am ready to pay it, yet my memory still bleeds so freshly with the blows of my last disaster, as my fear that has scarce left me strength enough to clear that score as I ought, has framed me a request, that you will please to respite my relation for a day or two, till I recollect and recover as much vigour, as will carry me through so tedious and so sad a story.  
She could not bring these words to a period, without letting fall a crystal shower from her bright eyes, which the fairer Queen, joining hers to Elisia's, wiped away with her cheeks, and tenderly pressing her in her arms,  
Be not so lavish of those precious tears, my fair Princess, said she, and since (as I learned by your last night's discourse) there is yet some incertainty left in your misfortunes, do not dash your hopes upon the Rock of a belief so desperate; the Gods are sometimes pleased to tread strange paths to our deliverance, and if any example may serve to fortify that opinion in you, it may possible show you the way to recover life in your swooned hopes: In the mean time, do not violence yourself for satisfaction, which I am contented to defer, till you may find your power as propense as your will to perform it; and since my present estate may safely allow me to venture upon a long recital, I will endeavour to divert you with the History of my life; I suppose you will not find it amiss to pass away this day upon your bed, without dressing you further, as well because your bodily weakness desires repose, as by that means you may avoid the visits of Cornelius, with all others that are likely to interrupt our privacy.  
The fair Princess of Parthia, after a respective contest and resistance against the Queen's civilities, was at last overcome with importunity, to accept the liberty she offered, and after she had ordered her woman to stop all visits at the door, by acquainting the persons with her indisposition, they both seated themselves upon the bed, respect withdrawing the rest to such a distance as they could not overhear them.  
The Queen began the story of her life, at the time that Caesario arrived at her Father's Court, discourses the cause that led him thither, recounted the bewitching gallantry of his first actions, the uncovering his affection, first by his discourse in the Temple, and afterwards by many succeeding assurances that his behaviour still silently repeated: she related his his quarrel and combat with Britomarus, then succeeded to the second discourse that he made her of his passion, while the wounds he received of that young man, confined him to his Bed: and in fine, forgot nothing of importance, that Eteocles had before recounted to Tyridates, and when she was arrived at that part of the Narration where Eteocles was interrupted, after she had silently employed her thoughts, for a few moments, to call home some particulars, which time, assisted by the several accidents of her life, had a little lead astr●● from her memory, she thus pursued her story.  

The continuation of the History of Caesario and Candace.  
SO soon as the young Caesario, whom (as I told you) was called Cleomedon, was cured of those wounds he received from the bold Britomarus, he carefully continued to render Me his observances and visits, with a precise sedulity, and took the tide of every occasion, wherein he might respectively show me some sparks of his flame; but I lived with him in such a manner, as he found it hard to fasten any judgement upon his own Interest in my inclinations: And though a few words I let fall, while his wounds kept him in bed, besides the signal confession of all my actions, that betrayed a peculiar esteem of his merits above the rest that saw me) might show him the dawnings of some hope, yet he found so little disposition either in my language or behaviour to such a particular tye of affection, which his desires were leveled at, as he could gather no hopes from either, but such as were faint and sickly; and, to speak the truth, I cannot think it strange, if he were posed at the valuation of his own estate in my breast, for as yet myself was ignorant how to rate it, and it cost me a long time in fitting my thoughts and desires, before I had power to discern in what fashion I had received him there; my consideration took the height of his birth at the full stature, and I regarded the marvellous qualities of his person with favour enough: I must say more, that I had a secret sense of obligation for the affection he expressed: and finding nothing in it that deserved my censure, I reflected on that, and the person that professed it, with a complacence that strangely bend itself to something extraordinary; but I had such a natural aversion, to the embarking myself for Cupid's traffic, at those difficulties he had already cleared, in winning my attention and permission to the soft language of his Love, were none of the greatest he had to subdue in my disposition.  
Thus his condition was stated, when one day, with Clitie (the same Maid you now see in my company whom I ever entirely trusted) taking a walk in one of the Palace gardens, she leading me along by the thread of a cunning discourse (while the rest of my Maids were dispersed in the several Alleys) into an unfrequented Arbour, where after she had lightly touched some other subjects, by which, she insensibly drew me into the Net of her design, to talk of Casario.  
Madam, do you think, said she, if Fortune were so happily unblinded, as to place her bounties right, and let fall her favours upon a just proportion of merit, that the Prince Cleomedon might not pretend with an unquestionable title to a large part of the world, and that the grandeur of his birth (which to us is no secret) could ever be better suited, than by the admirable qualities of his person? 'Tis confessed, said I, that Cleomedon is highly commendable in his whole composure, and that the skilfullest desire could hardly fancy one excellent part, required in the frame of an accomplished Prince, which is not to be found plentifully stored, and harmoniously matched in him. Have you observed, replied Clitie, that incomparable grace that shines in all his actions, the sweetness of his converse, the vivacity of his wit, and those thousand marks of greatness that throng together without disorder in his Face and Language? I have remarked them all, said I, with an apprehension as clear as thine, and I really consider Cleomedon as a person extraordinary, but what dost you strike at by this confession thou hast gotten from me? I would fain induce you to confess, said Clitie with an action less serious, that your judgement has not showed you so many grand qualities in a Prince, and in a Prince that dies for you, without touching your soul with some sentiments of affection. Indeed Madam, pursued she smiling, methinks you should not be so sensible; and since, in fine, your heart is too tender to be either Stone or brass, would you allow me the liberty to speak my conjectures, I would dare to say that it has not scaped the affection and deserts of Cleomedon without a battery.  
This discourse of Clitie brought some blood into my face, and regarding her with an action more composed than hers, However it happens to day, said I, methinks you are not very wise; and I know not which of my actions could instruct you to raise these conjectures of me. I did not fifth it from any of your actions, replied the Maid, but my own reason, which to me appeared a fitter foundation for my opinion than any proofs you have yet betrayed, but in fine, since your illustrious birth does not enjoin you to shut your eyes upon the merit of a Prince, whose extraction is neither inferior to yours, nor any persons living; and the severity of your virtue cannot justly forbid you the resentments that an affection so full of respect may challenge; what other consideration can raise forces enough to oppose the thoughts I have passed upon it, by the sole assistance of an unbiased reason? Dost thou not know, replied I, that I was never prone to regard a person, with any other interest than such an esteem as we all owe to virtue where ere we find it? nay, did my inclination place a particular value upon Cleomedon's person, I would make it bow to that obedience is due to the King, my Father's will, which shall ever be the rule of all my thoughts, and I ought to judge them very Criminal, should they dare to act by any other power than his commands. I doubt not, said Clitie, but your intentions are the same you spoke them, but, granting that, I find no cause to disapprove my opinion. The King your Father, who has long since perceived Cleomedon's pretences, would never have suffered, or at least not favoured their progress as he has done, had he thought that alliance deserved his rejection, his behaviour in this affair, might easily instruct you to believe that he had looked upon the prologue of his amorous designs with a serene aspect, and finding in Cleomedon's person, all that his wishes would contrive in that of a Prince, whom his thoughts voted worthy of the honour of your Bed, you need not doubt, but he will prefer him before all his neighbour Princes, on whom, though Fortune, possible to show her blindness, has bestowed some Crowns, yet Heaven has neither given them a Birth so illustrious, not a Virtue so eminent, as its bounty has conferred on this brave Son of Caesar; besides, Madam, you being his legitimate and only heir, 'tis vain to think he will fix his desires upon any addition to your grand inheritance, and 'tis the opinion of persons far more prudent and politic than I, that he will rather fear than desire the alliance of a stranger King, and deem it far more requisite to give a Prince entirely to his People, than transport their subjection to a foreign Sceptre. When it once arrives at that point, replied I, I can do no less than avow unto thee, though possible not without a blush, that I will receive Cleomedon from his hands, with less repugnance, than if he had rifled the whole stock of mankind for another choice; and, indeed I confess, thou were not wholly deceived by thoughts that concluded me neither blind nor insensible to the merit of his person, nor the proofs of his affection.  
I had thus no sooner displayed my hidden thoughts when I beheld Caesario, (whose approach I then least expected) enter the Arbour, and throw himself at my feet, with a face that boasted such a compliment of joy, and satisfaction, as I timerously concluded he had heard all those words, I so lately let fall to his advantage: this called a fiery blush into my cheeks, and I was at first surprised with so much shame, as wanting the confidence to look him in the face, I covered mine own with my hand, on purpose to hide a part of my confusion: the Prince, who construed the cause of it right, was ready to borrow repentance of his tender affection, for the perplexity he had given me, and left the excess of his joy, corrected to a sober moderation, by a belief that I was not satisfied with this passage, however (loath to forfeit so fair an occasion) he began to rally his scattered spirits, and embracing my knees with a tender, and yet a passionate ardour: Madam, said he, do not grudge me the Fortune that Heaven has given me without your consent, and be not troubled that I am indebted for a happiness to this encounter, for which I might long have waited (still the companion of my own woes) before I had obtained it of your goodness: Madam, what I learned from your fair mouth, has taught me to believe myself the happiest, and the most glorious Prince in the world, but all that you have said, has given you no just cause of shame or repentance, unless you draw it from the choice you have made of a man so unworthy of that precious privilege you have given him in your breast, your intentions are so nicely wrapped within the strict rules of Duty and Virtue, as when the King your Father (though advised by the severest persons upon Earth) shall understand them, they cannot scan this act with Justice, and pass any thoughts upon it to your disadvantage; for myself Madam, I receive this knowledge with a respect so profound, and so perfectly conformed to the devout veneration I have for you, as you shall ever find a greater increase in my submissions to your will, than in those hopes you permit me to conceive.  
While he spoke in this manner, I recovered some confidence to disparkle the astonishment had seized me, and whether my opinion of his discretion, or the Innocence of my intentions, pleaded best to myself in my own behalf, in effect; I was prompted to believe, I had not lavished any language that left such a spot upon me, as shame first taught me to imagine, with this persuasion, taking my hand from my face, and licensing my Eye to regard him with more assurance than before. How Cleomedon, said I, are these the proofs of your respect, do you think you have not forgotten what you owe me, thus by an ambush to entrap my secrets, before you knew how I would relish or receive the freedom? I had rather die, answered Cleomedon, than give you any just cause of displeasure, but if you find it in this encounter, believe it, Madam it was only accident, and not design that plotted the offence. Let it be design or hazard, replied I, I do not think you can construe my words to that advantage you pretend, nor can believe you could find out reason enough to beget a doubt of my obedience, which was ever taught to bow itself to the King's command, nor of that desire, which I ever tenderly preserved of a total submission to his will, not only in what regards the great sacrifice to Hymen, but the entire disposal of all my actions, so long as the thread of my life is uncut: No Madam, replied Caesario, I never doubted it, but I was uncertain whether your inclination would declare with your obedience in my behalf, and prevail to let affection go a share in that, which Duty has only power to exact at your hands; 'tis that, Madam, is the basis on which I build all my glory, and if I may have leave to mingle a little Interest with it, will say, that (if my opinion does not abuse me) your own inclinations will have all the power to complete our destiny, since the Kings have ever so tenderly complied with yours as they can never permit him to offer any force in the choice of a Husband. I confess my hopes look the same way, said I, and since (though against my will) you have gotten so large an acquaintance in my thoughts upon the confidence I repose in your virtue, and the respect which can never give you leave to abuse that intelligence you have got in the breast of a Princess, not unworthy of your affection, I shall not scruple to confirm, what you have already learned from my mouth, but will repeat you my purpose, that if you can oblige the King to approve your design, I will submit myself to his command, without the least repugnance to receive you.  
Caesario did not throw himself at my feet to thank me for this promised favour, for he had not stirred from thence since he entered the Arbour, but my words had committed such a rape of joy upon his senses, as it was long before he could get any language at liberty to express it, yet at last it broke loose, though much out of joint with excess of passion, which yet me thought told the tale of his affection better in that disordered Elegance, than I ever understood it before from its untroubled composure, and confirmed my resolution to prefer him (if ever my disposal were released to myself) above all the persons in the world.  
Since that day he lived with me, not usurping Licence from Success, to enlarge his liberty of behaviour, for he still kept himself exactly within the bounds of that respect, which was born a twin, and had ever since grown up with his passion, and had he chanced to break beyond them, I knew how to reduce him so handsomely, as I could leave him more confidence of his happiness, a sweeter repose, and riper hopes than ever. Being yet too young to do it with Decorum, he thought it not fit to trust his intentions to the King till some important service might state him so powerfully in his breast, to repair the defect of those Crowns he had lost, and help him up to that pitch in his opinion which he might have flown at, before the disastrous fall of Anthony and Cleopatra.  
In this expectation he passed above a year in our Court, and thrived so happily in his design to endear himself to the King, as he could not have received more indulgence, though all the blood in his Veins had streamed from no other Fountain but Hydaspes, and with me his lovely qualities prevailed so successfully, as at last he had got as large a possession in my heart, as he could fancy in his forwardest wishes: indeed it was no easy task to defend myself from him, for Caesario is struck so full of incomparable graces, in both the faces and features of body and mind, as it is impossible for the severest Judge of worth to see and frequent him, and not quickly confess him a person, in whom the Divine bounty has treasured the marks of an extraordinary grandeur; and to these rare endowments were added a complacence, and assiduity, and a discretion so uncommon, as by a sweet violence were able to enforce affection, even in those Cynical Souls, that are most incapable to take the true height of merit; of me he received all the spotless testimonies of affection, that innocence would avow, and though they were precisely confined within the limits of severity enough, yet his knowledge of my humour, showed him cause to content himself, with what I was willing to allow him: he would sometimes grow very melancholy, when his thoughts chanced to reflect upon his battered Fortunes, and, I remember, when I asked him the cause of his indisposition, he has often answered me to this purpose: Madam, would he say, it does not trouble me to be in debt for all I have to you and yours, nor would I lay out one single wish for a fortune that comes not either from you, or for you, but when I look upon myself as I am despoiled by that giddy Deity of all those Grandeurs and Dignities, that environed me at my birth, and find that I am stripped of all at a time, when their service was so necessary to prefer me to yours, I cannot dissemble my displeasure, nor lift my Eyes to you with any assurance, when my memory wakes those cruel thoughts that tell me, if your generous Father had not given me a Sanctuary, I should now be destitute of a retreat among men, that I have now no proper estate, no rank, nor any of those Sceptres left me, my Ancestors possessed, that he who has robbed me of all, that usurps the throne of my Father, and the same that took away the Crown and Life from the unfortunate Cleopatra, does proudly brood our spoils, and peaceably sway the better part of the Universe, while Fortune fastens me to such a feeble condition, as denys me the power of recovering my swooned honour, or my lost estate, in revenging my friends by the ruin of my enemies. In fine, Madam, I cannot see you served by a Man whom Fortune has tumbled to so low a condition, without blushing with the blood that is nearest my heart, and if I had not some sparks of hope in the King your Father's assistance, that are yet unquenched, and a little confidence in the courage of a Prince (who cannot want it, and be still the Son of Caesar) to repair the shame of my life, I should despair of comfort.  
Such Discourses as these my Caesar often made me upon this subject, but I raised all the power of my reason to combat those melancholy thoughts, as well because they afflicted him, as that they drove him upon the dangerous rock of a resolution, which my judgement told me, he would never have power to conduct to a happy period.  
Think not, said I, that the loss of your Crowns has made you less considerable, than if you were still vested in that purpled prosperity of your Royal house, your Virtue may restore you, what your blind Enemy has taken, nor has she power enough, in her whole stock of malice, to blot out those Characters, which in your person are far more remarkable, than all the glittering Crowns, whereof she has plundered you. So long as there are store of those to be adquired among men, you have still the same right, to assert and arm your just pretences, but if you only levelly yours desires at those, on purpose to ennoble your amorous claim, know, you need not the addition of those fading glories, since I find that in yourself alone, which will give you the upper hand in my thoughts, of him that commands the Universe: besides, your Honours has no Interest in your misfortunes, for you suffered them at an age so helpless and insensible, as allows you no right to go any share in the shame, or the glory of good or bad success: if the Gods shall one day furnish you with forces to receive the quarrel, you may yet dispute the Empire of the world with that Usurper of your right, and Persecutor of your life, and if they refuse you the means, and break down the stairs by which you should remount the throne of your Fathers, you may possible ascend another, that is large enough to bond a reasonable ambition.  
The Son of Caesar, received some comfort from this discourse, yet not so clear a satisfaction, to hinder him from perplexing me with his daily protestations, that none were fit to serve me but the Masters of the world, and that sole consideration made him Envy their condition. In the mean time, he saw and discoursed me without the least restraint, with all sorts of virtuous liberty, and the King, who without a purblind understanding (could do no less than discover a part of the truth, was so far from disapproving, as the satisfaction expressed in his face and actions, was a main fortification to Caesario's hopes; when Fortune, after she had shined with an unclouded flattery, upon the morning of my age, began to make faces, and raise storms, which have since tossed me to that condition, wherein you encountered me. Tiribasus, whom I mentioned in the beginning of my Discourse, was listed by the Royal favour, not only to the tallest advancement among the Aethiopians, but was little short of the King himself, either in Credit, or Authority; never did favourite fly at so high a pitch in the sphere of his Master's love, and Hydaspes, had not only deposited to his trust, all the places of importance in the Kingdom, and left the management of his Revenue with all other charges to his discretion, and disposal, but given him an absolute power, both in the heart and frontiers of his Dominion, to command the Soldiery; and in fine, had mounted him to that pitch of greatness and glory, as though he had desired, it was now no longer in the power of the same hand that raised to ruin him. 'Tis true, Tiribasus, had never given him cause to repent his bounty, and having climbed to that sublimity of power by the sole assistance of his own virtue, he had kept himself there with such an evenness of discretion as the Kings own desires could not mend any thing in his Vigilance, Courage, or Fidelity: He was a man of extraordinary Gallantry, his person happily composed with all those features and proportions the Ethiopians accounted handsome, and indeed worthy to top that dignity, if he could have taught his ambition to stop there and step no higher; whether that, or Love, or both conjoined, directed his aims at me, I know not, but whatever spurred him to those undertake, it was much about the time that I was upon the same terms with Caesario, which I last related, when the speech of his behaviour began at first to stammer his saucy intentions to a discoverry. He had already betrayed a more studied and particular respect unto me than formerly he had used, but still I referred them to other causes, being very remote from the least imaginations thát a man, who apparently before had never aspired at any thing but great and glorious actions, should now lean to sigh for a softer passion: and that a man, who could prove no descent from a Royal stem, should lift his desires to the only Daughter of his King. If my dull apprehension had construed them right, those fi●●● Essays of his bold passion had been received in another manner, but at last the repetition of those half discoveries insensible removed the cloud from my eyes, and I began to take instruction from divers marks, which till then he had carefully concealed.  
I was yet got no farther than an uncertain suspicion could inform me, when he had adventured to clear all my doubts; I remember the first time he showed me the face of his passion without a Mask, we were in one of those beautiful Gardens of Meroe, that are delightfully folded within the silver Arms of Nilus, and delicately embellished with the fairest treasure that Art and Nature could bring to adorn them; I was then upon the bank of the channel with a great number of the chief Court Ladies, sporting ourselves with every one an angle in our hands, a divertisement we often used, by reason of the great number of Fish that frequented that place; but that day I had no luck at sport, and had often cast in my Line without getting a bite, when Tiribasus, who had been long walking with the King in the same Garden, came to me, and perceiving some petty discontent in my visage, demanded the cause: Do you not see Tiribasus, said I smiling, how fortune lours upon my sports to day? And while she hangs a fish upon every one's hook, she partially passes mine, and suffers not one so much as to taste my bait: Ah Madam (replied Tiribasus, who found those words had hinted a favourable occasion, to conduct his thoughts into the scene) how little reason you have to envy this trivial hap to your maids, who while they amuse themselves with captiving a few feeble and innocent creatures, your hooks are much more dangerous, and you take prizes of far greater importance. When people take what they angle for, replied I, their desires are satisfied, in being arrived at the end they aimed at; but when with the same thing they aim at, said he, they take something that increases the quarry they are fortunate beyond intention. Madam your Highness, said he, is of that number, since with those nets your innocence spreads without any design for Prisoners, you take all that stays, and all that are desirous to fly you, even when you neglect the pains of pursuing the game, nothing can escape you, or if any does, they are such poor irrational Creatures as these who run away from the Glory of dying in your fair hands for want of understanding it.  
Tiribasus brought forth these words with a sigh, and I was not so innocent, (especially being prepossessed with a former suspicion) as not readily to perceive what mark he shot at, and desirous to let him see this kind of discourse did not please me, I darted at him a disdainful look, and then presently retiring my eyes from his visage, I thought, said I, you had a mind to make yourself merry, and perhaps you think you have chosen a subject very fit for your purpose: Alas Madam, answered Tiribasus, my reason cannot be so blind to seek here for divertisement, where I have found my ruin, and how ill would such light-heeled thoughts suit with his sad condition, from whom you have already taken his repose and his liberty.  
These words, which I did not expect would have been so clear and intellible, lighted up so fierce an anger in my soul, as a part of the heat flew with a deep die from the waters to fasten them on his: To me, Tiribasus, said I, is it to me you direct tkis language? It would highly concern my life, answered he, that I had power enough left still to make my addresses to any but yourself; nor am I blind or deaf to any of those reasons, that would dissuade my bold thoughts from the Daughter of my King, but it is the invincible force of my Destiny, or rather yours that decrees it, against which, all humane resistance will fight, but with a feeble arm.  
These audacious words, wound up my resentment to the highest extremity, and no longèr able to dissemble it. I shall know hereafter, said I, with an action full of the marks of an extraordinary motion, how to cut off all those weaknesses from my life, that have thus encouraged you to offend me, and if that fails, to reduce you to your duty, I'll try whether that excess of favour the King your Master's bounty does allow you, will prove too strong for his affection to his Daughter.  
Tiribasus who had already foreseen how his first answer would be received, was but little astonished at this angry repulse, and having hardened his resolution to stand the first shock with an undaunted obstinacy, he was preparing to reply, when turning his head, he perceived the company so near us, as he durst not pursue his design for fear of over-hearers; this made him change the subject, and find out some other discourse to entertain me; but I was so stung with that he had already, as I vouchsafed not so much as one single word to all that he spoke besides.  
From that day I began to hate him heartily, though till then I had found out nothing in his person that I could justly say was odious, but my belief that the pride of his heart (which sprung from the King's indulgence) had raised him the confidence to lay his passion so naked, provoked me more fiercely against him, than I should have been to other persons, though they had been his inferiors.  
He thinks, said I, that without raising himself, he may lawfully fly his aspiring pretences at the Daughter of his King, and by the help of that insolence, to which his Masters unmerited smiles have transported him, he does doubtless imagine, that he can love nothing below me, without offending his upstart honour; but I'll take care to cure him of that Error, if he still continues to show me the Symptoms, and possibly throw him as much beneath his present condition, as his effronted ambition would raise him above it.  
In the mean time, he took no despair from this first repulse I had given him, and if he cunningly kept his passion under hatches to the whole Court, he lost no occasion wherein he might show it to me in particular; I carefully avoided all those that might probably betray me to a second surprisal by him in private, and instructed all my actions to assure him, that the farther he stepped in pursuit of his ambitious flames, the deeper he engaged himself in my mortal hatred; all the reflections I could make upon it, still added fresh fuel to the flame of my choler, and being born to so lofty a Courage, as could hardly judge the Son of Caesar worthy to serve me, I could not suffer the thought that one of my Father's and a man that was no Prince, should openly presume to discourse me his affection, without letting myself be carried with impatience to the extremes of a hatred against him: I had no power to preserve the truth of this accident in disguise from Caesario, and his Jealousy (which was started up to a strange height in the very day of its birth,) made him receive this intelligence so impatiently, as had I consented to loosen the Rains, which I ever kept upon his will, he would have doubtless endeavoured to punish the presumption with too loud a fury, which my own quality and credit obliged me to hide from the whole world, but my commands (by the Authority he had given me in his heart) held him back so strictly from any angry attempt upon his Rival as he durst not suffer the least sign to appear in any of his actions that he knew it.  
Tiribasus often laid wait in vain for an occasion that might help him to the privacy of a second parley, but I still countermined his cunning so carefully, as in more than three months' time, he never lighted upon the liberty to speak with me, but still some company were by to intercept him, which I suppose gave him a resolution to turn the course of his design another way, and refer that to the mediation of time, and the lucky emergencies of some future occasions, which (as his condition was then stated) he had little hope to obtain.  
In pursuit of this resolve, he waited one day (as he had often done at several other times) at the foot of those stairs that lead to my lodging, upon the point of my return from the City, and advancing with a number of Courtiers, that fawned upon his fortune, to the boot of my Chariot, he offered me his hand to help me out, and lead me up the stairs; what ever repugnance I had to receive that office at his hands, I could not handsomely refuse him in the presence of so many witnesses, besides perceiving the King with his face towards me, looking out of a window, and my Esquire being respectively retired to give him that honour of precedency, I found myself obliged to lend him a hand, and being descended from the Chariot, I began to mount the stairs with him.  
Tiribasus turning his eyes round to see if any followed us near, and perceiving Respect had kept all those that came after at a becoming distance: Madam, said he, (letting fall his voice as low as it might well be understood) had I been born among the Enemies of your Royal house, and with a Native Enimity, hatched designs against the Interest of your Estates, and the King your Father's Service, you could not employ a more scornful care to fly and avoid me, than we have done already: the reason, replied I, interrupting him, is easily apprehended, since if you had facted all that you have urged for the causes of aversion, your offence had been short of that which your tongues indiscretion did so lately betray. I did not think, replied Tyribasus, that any construction could draw the proofs of an obsequious and respective possion, within the number of offences, and if we fly from those that love us, methinks we should seek out punishments for those that do not so. Tyribasus, said I, to evade Discourses of this nature, is the reason that I seek to escape you, as I would do Plagues or Death; and if ever you adventure again to offend me with the like, I'll tell your story to the King in such a manner, as all the interest and affection you have in him, perhaps may prove too weak to defend you from his indignation: No Madam, answered Tiribasus with a serious and composed action, do not accuse me to the King, if you please, for a fault my fate enforced me to commit, which I am resolved shall no more be repeated, since you forbid it, if there be a possibility to avoid it, I would neither displease the King my Master, nor my Sovereign Princess, and if I cannot suddenly exile the unlucky passion from my heart, which has rendered me worthy of your anger, at least I will take such care to govern and correct it, as it shall never noise itself any more in your ears, nor make a second purchase of your displeasure.  
As he finished these words, he found himself near my chamber door, and without staying for an answer, he made me a very low reverence, and so retired, leaving more satisfaction behind him, by the promise he had made, than I thought he had brought.  
Indeed he began to be a very strict observatour of his word, and confined his behaviour to terms that were very remote, and almost aliens to the former testimonies of his love; so that in five or six months' time, not so much as perceiving one spark of his flame, broke out words; at first I believed his Discretion had kept his Passion prisoner, on purpose to please me; and in sequel I thought he had entirely driven it from his heart. Caesario himself was of the same opinion, and all those (who from several signs had received a glimmering intelligence of his love, perceiving the feverish heat of his officious behaviour towards me, retire to such a moderate temper, as implied no particular design) concluded with us, that the difficulties he encountered in my spirit, had doubtless beaten off his batteries, and obliged him to raise the Siege; for myself ay, was grown so confident, I had not mistaken him, as, by little and little, I had almost quitted all my resentment against him, and perceiving what strict rules he still observed in his carriage towards me, I began to regard him with almost as smooth an aspect, as before the abortive birth of his affection.  
But it seems I had rowed long enough in a calm, and my fate thought it time to acquaint me with those cruel storms of misfortunes, that have since cost me so many sighs.  
At that time, Nubia, which had heretofore been a puissant Realm of itself, and was then ranged as a Province under the King my Father's Dominion, by the secret practices and instigations of our neighbours the Aethiopians, or rather the Romans, who had newly usurped their Empire, universally rose in Rebellion with so unbelieved an expedition and promptitude, as before the certain intelligence of it could arrive at Meroe, the infection was spread through all the Provinces of that Country; those that had expressed any fidelity to their Prince, were all inhumanly murdered, and the Nubians, having Crowned a King of their own, called Evander, derived, as they pretended, from the sleeping pedigree of their ancient Princes, were already grown to an apparent condition of maintaining their new Monarchy against all the force Ethiopia could make. Their Commander (who was brave among the harvest, and known by a thousand actions of valour, which had gotten him a high repute) did not promise himself less than the conquest of all those Countries that obeyed my Father, and not only thought he sat sure in the possession of that he had already usurped, but prepared to invade ours with a very formidable puissance.  
The arrival of this strange news, spread a general amazement through the whole Court; but the King, who had ever proved himself a courageous and magnanimous Prince, quickly took care to stifle the astonishment, and dexterously rallying his dispersed forces he dispatched a puissant Army against the Rebels, under the conduct of Tyribasus, as he of all his Nobility, on whose valour and experience, his expectations leaned with the greatest confidence.  
Cleomedon, like a young Lion fiercely leaped at this Alarm, and though he could not think of marching under the command of Tiribasus without some reluctance, yet with a warlike ardour, preferring his intended purchase of glory, before the shame of obeying a Man, whose birth had made him his inferior, he resolved to go that expedition; but the King (whose head was hatching other designs for him) would not suffer him to march with that first Campania, and (though with much ado) at last he moderated the impatience of his eager spirit with a promise to give him command in the next employment, wherein he might signalise himself to a greater advantage of glory: to the King's Authority I added mine, which proved not too feeble to arrest him; and in fine, overpowered by the double obedience, which he ever divided betwixt the Father and the Daughter, grew contented to stay with us at Meroe, though still expressing his generous impatience, with all the signs of an illustrious courage that could be desired in the Son of Caesar.  
In the mean time, Tiribasus marched against the Nubians, and, not to trouble you with a vain recital of his particular actions, I will only tell you, that he did a great many brave feats, both as Commander and Soldier, that were worthy to be ranged in the number of those that compose his haughty renown: he defeated the Enemy in two great Battles, but unfortunately engaging in a third, about the end of the Summer, at a place where our Army could not fight, without much disadvantage, he lost the day by so considerable a defeat of his Troops, as that single misfortune plucked all the fruit of his former successes, and so strangely altered the face of our affairs in that Country, as all we could do for the rest of that Campania, was to quit the offensive part, preserve what he had gotten, and stop the torrent of our Enemy's progress; he might yet have probably recovered his advantages by a large recruit the King was ready to send him, when, to double the disaster, having stood the shock of many a cruel storm, and exposed himself to excessive toil while the Winter lasted, he fell sick of a desperate malady, that led him to the very extremes of his life; in that interim, while his disease detained him Prisoner, the Evening had almost finished the ruin of our affairs, and when his greatest danger was overblown, his health made her approaches with such languishing and staggering steps, as all his Physicians assured him, that if he changed not the Air, they had little hope to complete his cure.  
The King sadly received this news, not doubting but the return of Tyribasus would leave all things there involved in a very hopeless confusion; but as he ever tenderly loved his person, and passing his thoughts upon the inconsiderable service he was able to do him in the Army, while his indisposition lasted, he resolved to call him home, and presently sent him Orders to return to Meroe, with all the expedition that his health would permit. He sent him not this Command, before he had resolved to go fill up his empty place with his own person, and to that end hasting those levies were pre-designed for Nubia, his preparations for the voyage went forward with so dexterous a diligence, as when Tyribasus entered Meroe, the King was ready to march out.  
Tyribasus appeared at the Court with a very pale visage, that still showed the footsteps of his scarce departed malady, and the King received him, not only as the worthiest of all his Subjects, but as his own, and only Son, or (if any fancy can find out such a person) as something yet more deeply endeared.  
Before his departure, he left the government entirely in his hands, declared him precedent of the Council in his absence, and committed his Kingdom, his Daughter, and all his affairs with an entire confidence, and an absolute power to the disposal and management of his care.  
If Tyribasus, by the cunning continuance of his dissimulation, had not already strangled all the suspicions I had of him, I had opposed all my power against that absolute Authority the King left him, and Cleomedon would never have suffered me to stay under the guard of a person so suspected; but in all his actions, both before his Nubian expedition, in his departure, and at his return, he treated me with a coldness so incompatible with affection, as I easily believed there was not so much as one single root of it left alive in his Spirit. The King having left this order at Meroe, disposed himself to depart with Caesario in his company, whom neither he nor I were then any longer willing to detain from the war, not that his absence (since I loved him as dearly as decency would allow) did not deeply perplex me: but seeing the King my Father was going to expose his own person to the hazards of the War, I thought I should sin too much against Caesario's virtue, to keep the passage 'gainst him in his way to glory, or detain him with me, where now he could not stay with any safety to his credit; he wasted divers whole days in the repetition of his passionate adiews, and if he made me a thousand vows of preserving an invincible and immortal fidelity, I requited him with a thousand assurances, that I would ever prefer him (till death divorced us) before all the rest of mankind.  
The day of that cruel separation being arrived, I took leave of the King, and Cleomedon of me, with all the sincerity and tenderest proofs that were ever expressed by affection, and the parting with both, assaulted my Soul in several places, with a grief so violent, as receiving the King's last embraces, I was like to fall at his feet in a swoon, timerously gathering an unlucky Augury from the exquisite sense of those redoublings of affection; the King who perceiving it, endeavoured to sweeten my apprehensions with some comfortable words, but they were not strong enough to put my griefs to flight, nor banish those prophetic fears from my Soul, which stayed there by the Authority, not only of known, but undiscovered causes.  
Cleomedon gave me the first adieu, and perceiving the rest of the company (while he was taking his leave) to be all so busied about the King, as none were near enough to overhear him: It's impossible Madam, said he, I should carry myself away from your presence, without a torment too violent for my face to dissemble, but I will learn to cashier a large part of my woes, if your compassion gives comfort, and allows me to hope, that neither time, absence, nor any of those accidents that may cross our Fortune, shall ever have power to exercise your tyranny, upon that privilege I hold of your bounty. For that, said I, you have my promise, and shall ever know me as inviolable in the observance of it, as I hope to find you Loyal and Religious in performing the Vows you have made. That confidence, said he, creates me happiness that infinitely transcends my merit, and I hope to carry your beautiful Image into places where it must infallibly gather the bays of a glorious victory: I cannot borrow meaner hopes, said I, from my opinion of valour; but among all those dangers you intent to brave, do not tie yourself so strictly to the thoughts that you are Caesar 's Son, to forget the propriety Candace has in you.  
After these words he kissed my hand, and having taken his last leave, he left me to the King, who came with open arms to bid me farewel: I had a face overflowed with tears, which might well fetch their pedigree (in the common opinion from no other fountain than the King's departure, and those that stole into the flood for Cleomedon's sake, ran along with the rest, as if they had started from the same source, though (if I may say it without offending the Laws of a filial piety) they out-swelled the rest in number.  
I saw them both mount their horses, and really Cleomedon (for in that my opinion was the legitimate child of truth, and no Way led astray by the Bias of affection) appeared in a posture so Heroic, as might kindle envy even in those souls to whom nature had lavished the greatest advantages. He was that day covered with arms, that were rather designed for Parade than service, and that was the first time the Roman Eagle was seen to display her wings, and proudly erect her two heads amidst the Gold and Jewels that adorned his Casque and Shield. Near the imperial Eagle appeared a young one, that with a bold wing and open eyes, seemed to strain his pinions against the Sun to prove his descent legitimate, with these words, The worthy Son of such a Father. Caesario had only added the Eaglet and Motto to the ancient devise, having received those fair Arms at his departure from Alexandria, as a gift from the Queen his Mother, in whose custody they were left by Julius Caesar, after they had faithfully served him in most of those dangerous battles that got him the greatest name among men.  
Under these beautiful Arms the young Warrior advantageously mounted, appeared so fierce and yet so noble, as endeared him to the affection and respect of every soul that beheld him; but I dote too much upon his Description, and indeed, Madam, to comprehend it right, 'tis but fit his Portraiture should be limned as well to the life in your imagination, as my heart has drawn it upon itself.  
This young Hero marching by the King's side, and circled with the general applause of all the Ethiopians, went out of the City, and left me half busied in a cloud of sad and fearful apprehensions behind him.  
Tyribasus whom the Physicians had forbidden to ride, stayed some time with me in the City, and implored a great part of it, in striving to confute and divert my melancholy thoughts, with a face so seriously honest, that none could ever think it belonged to a man that was linked to any other interest than the service of his Master.  
I did not then refuse his Converse, in which he was so far from uttering a word, as he did not so much as mingle one look of love, and I was grown so confident in a blind opinion, that he had totally disbanded all his passionate follies that displeased me, as I began to interess myself in the return of his health, and was glad to see his colour and strength coming to their usual vivacity.  
In the mean time you need not doubt but my thoughts were entirely tied to the remembrance of what I loved, and if I sent any vows to Heaven for the King my Father's safety, you will easily believe I forgot not to mention Caesario's, whose image was portrayed so lively in my heart by the innocent skill of a chaste affection, as the vast distance betwixt us, was utterly uncapable to blot or blemish it: There were few hours in the day, that, I did not dedicated to his memory, and few days wherein I did not often tremble at the thoughts of those dangers he was going to encounter, when I chanced to hear those that returned with Tyribasus, discourse of the Nubians valour, and their Commander's gallantry: Ah! they are too too valiant, would I say, for my dear Caesar, and their merciless Swords will possible divide the thread of his life, with which mine is inseparably twisted.  
I had more reason to credit my fears for him, than the King, well knowing that his boiling youth would hurry him to a precipice of perils, to which the solidity of my Fathers maturer age, and the care that guarded his Office, would rarely expose him.  
I unladed all my thoughts of this alliance into the breasts of Clitie, who was still the partner of my solitary walks, both in the Gardens and other parts of the Island, that were fittest to flatter melancholy, where we still entertained the time with discoursing upon the subject of my apprehensions; but we were often interrupted by Tyribasus, who cunningly forbearing such language as might probably unrake the Embers of his passion, did yet strive with an active industry to prefer himself to some credit in my thoughts, and eagerly fastened his endeavours upon every occasion that might give me a good opinion of his person, and advertise my apprehension how much he had obliged me.  
And it is time to leave talking of myself, and acquaint you how our Warriors behaved themselves in Nubia, which I intent as succinctly as possible, as well because the sex excuses my ignorance in military matters, as that I am loath, with a long discourse to be uncivil with your patience.  
Before the King set forward in person, he had sent 30000 Horse, and 50000 Foot upon their march towards Nubia, raised out of those Provinces that were adjacent to Meroe, as the Troglodytes, Attatales, Memnonians, and divers others, which after (in a few days journey) he had overtaken, and Randezvouzed, he marched at their head against the Nubians, who (having defeated those Relics of a shattered Army that Tiribasus had left in their Country) proudly crested with success, had already left their own limits behind them, and begun to wave their Ensigns upon our Territories.  
At first, Caesario excusing his refusal of Command, with the incapacity of his youth, would needs combat without any charge, but at those first encounters that offered him occasion to signalise himself, the King perceiving that with his admirable valour there was linked a prudence little short of his sagest and most experienced Captains, would needs (without admitting any more of his modest denials) enforce the command of his Vanguard upon him, and was infinitely pleased to see him daily draw out Parties from the Troops of his Cavalry, and charge others that were sent out by the Enemy so bravely, as he still brought away most remarkable advantages: all those that saw him sight, spread reports of his valour, that posed the belief of the rest that had not yet beheld it, and the meanest Elegy they could give him, was, that he broke through the ranks of his Enemies like a whirlwind, with a brave disdain of danger, darted himself into the thickest throngs, throwing down all that opposed his passage, and that he alone by the prodigious effects of his valour, and the example he gave to those few that followed him, often routed whole Squadrons.  
The King who daily saw him come home, charged with the spoil, and covered with the blood of his Enemies, grew inflamed with love and wonder at his incomparable gallantry, which hastened the completing of those designs he had long been framing to his advantage: thus they wasted more than three months in Face and Skirmishes, before they could draw the Enemy to a general battle, & their Commander, who was wise, as well as valiant, considering he was then in an Enemy's Country, prudently concluded, he could not hazard a deciding blow, without venturing more upon the game than we; besides, he had a hope, by his temporizing delays (while he still enforced his own by continual supplies) to destroy our Army by a lingering disease, still charging our Troop, when any advantage invited, either in straits or difficult passes; yet at last marching up to a place that the King had besieged, with intent to put in a supply of men, he was insensibly engaged to a Combat, (though the greater part of both Armies struck not a blow) and in fine, the victory declared for us, by the loss of more than 15000 of his men.  
The King presently sent us this news to Meroe, and I received by the same person that brought it, who was one of Cleomedon's servants, two letters together that were both infinitely welcome, my memory has lost the words, but if that which came from the King was stuffed with Cleomedon's praises, to whom he almost attributed all the glory of the victory, the other that spoke from Caesario's hand, contained nothing but deep vows (put into very passionate terms) of an immortal fidelity: he since sent me divers others, by which he powerfully confirmed himself in the possession of my heart, nor did I make any scruple to assure him of it by two of mine, which (encouraged by a confidence that the King would not take it ill) I adventured to write to him.  
After this advantage our Army had gotten, Evander taking advice of necessity, retired a little and gave the King liberty to sit down before divers places that stood in his way which because they had to time to fortify themselves were easily carried; but in that interim there passed many memorable encounters, of which I still received a clear account by divers letters from Cleomedon: But why should I longer defer the sad recital of my misfortune? since my relation cannot pass to a period, without touching that by the way, what pleasure can I take to retard it? Six full months were already run through the glass of time since the King entered Nubia, and our Army had already cut off in divers Combats above 40000 of the Rebels, and lost at least half that number of our own men, when about three days journey from Tenopsis, the Metropolis of Nubia upon the banks of Nilus, that travels with his silver streams through that Country, as well a Ethiopia, Evander having reinforced his Army with very numerous supplies, presented him battle.  
The King (though his forces were far short of the Enemy's number) accepted the offer, and drawing up his Squadrons into the form that he judged most advantageous, he resolved to lead them on to the Combat in his own person, though much against the mind of Cleomedon, and the advice of all those whose loyal care kept a strict Centinel upon his safety; never was there seen (as I heard from very intelligent persons in the trade of war) a more beautiful order observed in the ranking of men on both sides, nor ever did two Armies dispute a bloody difference with a greater overflow of courage and obstinacy than those; the Nubians behaved themselves that day more like invincible Warriors than barbarous Rebels, and the Ethiopians animated by the presence of their King, did fears worthy to be listed in story as a pattern for surviving ages. The unfortunate Hidaspes led on by the cruelty of his fate with all sorts of unlucky presages, hotly charged into the Enemy's rank, and forgot the General's part so unhappily, as engaging his person too far within a throng of his Enemies, he was twice beaten from his horse, but as if those two falls had been given him on purpose to raise Caesario's valour to a sublimer pitch of glory, the young Prince still keeping a careful eye upon his person, flew in so happily to his rescue, as he both times drew him from the jaws of danger, bravely mounted him again, and cut him a large passage, at the infinite expense of Nubian blood, through a numerous press of his Enemies, whose blind swords would have made no distinction betwixt his and common lives. Caesario often earnestly entreated him to set a greater price upon his safety, and retire beyond the reach of those dangers that loudly threatened him; but he seemed offended at that request, and greedily desirous to open himself a way to Victory with his own hand, he rushed in the third time among the ranks of his foes so unfortunately, as receiving two deep wounds in his body, he fell from his horse half dead to the ground.  
Cleomedon (whom excess of courage had carried a little too far before him) chancing to turn his head, and perceiving how hotly it was fought on both sides about the King, who was then newly beaten from his Horse, came back like a tempest upon his Enemies with a rage so irresistible, as all those that stood in his way, received dispatch for the other world, and never needed to trouble a Chirurgeon, if any of his blows hit right upon them; and thus his sword, having made him a lane large enough to get up to the dying King, with a loud interjection of grief, he threw himself from his Horse, catched up the King in his arms, & with a prodigious force, which the distraction of his sorrow had much augmented, laid him upon his shoulders; by that great act striking such terror through all those Enemies that stood in his passage, as not one had the daring to oppose the piety of his design. 'Tis true, that some of the faithfullest among the Ethiopians, came in to the assistance of his generous intention, and (spurred by grief and anger, than the twins of Loyalty) they fiercely flew among the thickest of their Enemies, and scattered their throng so happily, as Caesario had liberty to carry the King out of the Fight to his Chariot, which was left near that place at the beginning of the Combat.  
Immediately after the night arrived clad in her deepest black, and parted both the Armies, before the Signal of retreat could be given by the Trumpets of either party; and though our Enemies lost more men than we, yet when the Armies fell off from each other, the Victory betwixt them, as yet irresolute to which party she should show partiality.  
In the mean time the sad Cleomedon put himself into the Chariot with the King, and while he made it gently towards his Tent, with inconceivable grief, he perceived that poor Prince draw near his end; but when they were come thither, the King laid in his bed, and the Surgeons that searched his wounds had pronounced them mortal, the desolation was great, as if all Aethiopia had perished with him, and received an arrest from death, to go and pay him their old allegiance in the other world.  
Hidaspes was only he that appeared untroubled, and perceiving Cleomedon (whom he tendered with an affection that might well have served for an only Son) to weep, tear his hair, and torment himself in a desperate manner, he fell a struggling with his own weakness to give him comfort, and forced his Soul to stay her flight for a while, till he had reasoned against Caesario's affliction, with such a gravity of stile, as turned all the assistance into wonder itself at the grandeur of his Courage.  
In fine, perceiving the glass of his life was turned for the last hour, and by the help of many Torches that were lighted up in his Tent, seeing the principal Commanders in his Army stand round his bed, after he had regarded them with a serious and assured aspect; My friends, said he, do not so tamely lament the destiny of a Prince, wherein there is nothing calls for so weak a passion as pity, I die like a King while I thus march off the world's Theatre in the field of honour, and by the last actions of my life, I leave no spot o● shame upon my memory, if you have any love still alive in your breast for your dying Master, give me the proof of it, when I am ashes, in your obedience to what I ask at your hands, and suffer me to die in hopes that my last commands shall be accomplished: you know I leave no other heir behind me than my Daughter, the Princess Candace, she is now to succeed to my Sceptre as your lawful Queen, and possible such a one as will not prove unworthy to command you: I thank the Gods that they have given me time before my Soul turns her back upon the world, to choose her such a husband, as without fear or shame she may receive by my orders and a general approbation; Cleomedon, who though a stranger among us, is he of all men whose alliance is dearest to my wishes, and whose Government will be sweetest to you, his person is known to you, his birth to some among you, and of those the rest may easily be informed, that there is none upon earth can justly boast so sublime an extraction, and therefore none likely to leave a more illustrious Race of Kings to Aethiopia than he; Receive him after me both for Candaces' husband, and a King to those people which I am forced to abandon, and with him this promise from your dying King, that the gods never gave you a happiness parallel to that you will enjoy under the sway of his Sceptre.  
Hidaspes spoke in this manner, while all the assistants almost swum in their own tears to hear him, and though they highly approved his generous and yet prudent choice of Cleomedon for a Successor, yet excess of grief, so overflowed the passage of their words, as they were posed for the present to express their resentments; and well might be, since he, who alone had more interest than all the rest, even Cleomedon himself, instead of paying his acknowledgement for a favour that topped his tallest wishes, appeared in a more dejected and dying posture than the King himself.  
At last my Father stretching out his hand, and calling him by his name: Cleomedon, said he, I leave thee my Daughter and my Crown, accept the present my Son, since I have nothing more precious to bestow upon thee: Cleomedon putting one knee to the ground took the King's hand and kissed it, but he had not the power to bring forth one single word, and the King after a few other short breathed Discourses, wherein among other things, he commended Tiribasus to him, as a man very capable of State-employment, his Spirits wasted themselves by degrees to that low Ebb, as in fine he lost his speech, and within an hour after his Life.  
Pardon me, Madam, pursued Candace, with a face covered with tears, if I cannot pass this Tragic part of my story, without paying this watery tribute (demanded by Nature and reason) to the memory of so sad a loss; Madam I lost a Father, to whom I was very dear, and a Father whose virtues merited the esteem and love of all that knew him; he remained cold and pale in Caesario's arms, and that Prince whose former affection to Hidaspes, as his Protector, his Benefactor, and the Father of Candace, was passionately increased by his last scene of kindness, after his death appeared in a condition little differing from his, as if one Soul had animated both their Bodies, and the same time forsaken and unfurnished her double mansion: from this profound astonishment he succeeded to sighs, and then by degrees found a tongue of his griefs, which delivered themselves in such doleful accents, as wrought as much pity from the company, as the loss of their King that caused them. All the credit that his Governor Eteocles had with him was then grown very necessary, and after he had suffered him to waste that whole night in Sighs, Tears and Plaints, whereof I suppose you willing to bate me the recital, he could find no other way to reduce him to himself, than by presenting me to his memory; that proved the strongest bridle, to retire the overflowing of his woes, and began to lead his thoughts aside from the loss, to a reflection upon the Legacy; the day following he grew more flexible to those reasons that assaulted his melancholy, and at last knocking off the Manacles of his grief, and restoring his courage to a perfect liberty, which indeed (as the general interest of Aethiopia was then tempered) necessity enjoined, after he had caused the King's body to be embalmed, with an intent to lay him at Meroe, with the Ashes of his Ancestors, and remembering the Enemy was near, by a general consent, he took the command of the Army, with a solemn Oath, in presence of all the Officers, that he would never turn his back upon Nubia, till he had bathed his revenge of their King's death, in whole Rivers of the Rebel's blood.  
This promise was fortunately followed by effect, and the next day having taken a general Muster of his Army, and finding it still consisted of more than 10000 Horse, and 35000 Foot, he put himself in the head of it, and marched directly to Tenupsis, whither, the Enemy's Army was newly retired. It yet amounted to more than 50000 Combatants, and their General Evander (who had already been advertised of the King's Death, with which he fed the fairest hopes of his success, and disdaining to fear a Man whose unpractised youth he cond●ded incapable to manage so great a Command) marched up to him with a confidence full of pride, and offered him battle.  
Caesario accepted this defiance with a fierce joy, and actively appeared at the heal of his Troops, in an Armour, whose deep black represented the sadness of his So●l, though now half turned into a noble anger; he led them on the Combat with such a daring and undaunted resolution, animated the coldest courages, with Examples so brave and beautiful, and spied them out advantages by such a prudent and quicksighted conduct, as the victory, long disputed by hot arguments on both sides, listed her ●● on our party, but she came in Scarlet, for the greedy fury both of General and Soldier, still hunting for blood to quench the thirst of the revenge for the King's death; did that d● sacrifice to his Ghost above 40000 Nubians and compelled the rest that escaped the slaughter, to seek their safety within the walls of Tenupsis, which opened its gates to favo●● their retreat.  
Three days after, the victorious Cleomedon (though he had taken some slight wounds ●● the Battle) sat down with his Army before it, but because the City was strongly fortify▪ and now defended by above 10000 Men, it held his whole Army play for at least the Month's time, during which, Evander, who disdained to shut himself up within the walls of a Town, dexterously posting in person from place to place, where he had his greatest resources was grown as strong in number as before, and had once more received a condition to spin on the War to a tedious length.  
At last the besieged City was carried by Storm, and all Cleomedon's authority could not hinder the Aethiopians from cutting the greatest part of the Soldiers that defended it, in pieces and leaving very cruel marks of their vengeance in that desolate City.  
After Tenupsis, Cleomedon besieged it, and with less pain took in divers other Cities, that were seated upon the banks of Nilus, and, when he had totally ranged that Country under his obedience, he advanced to meet Evander, who (once more desirous to try his Fortune) came up the third time to give him battle. Caesario proved again victorious, and not to amplify my story with needless circumstances or over-lade this relation with things that pass my experience, in one years' time, which he spent in recovering Nubia, he defeated the Enemies in five signal Battles, took ten or twelve of their Cities by force, reduced all the rest by the terror of his Arms, and for a conclusion of his glorious exploit, accepting a defiance from Evander (now brought to the brink of his last extremity) that challenged him to a single Combat, he fought with him in view of both Armies, bravely slew him upon the spot, and by his death, cut up the last root of that Rebellion.  
I have suffered my contracted recital to go down the stream of Cleomedon's actions, without touching some other things that passed in the interim of much greater concernment to myself, than any I have yet mentioned; but I traced these passages as far as they would reach, that I might not distract the method of my story, and now I shall step back to some accidents that befell myself, whereof the recital will doubtless be less offensive, than my late discourse of War, which yet I drew within as narrow, a compass as my skill would give leave. Think it not possible, Madam, replied the Princess Elisa, that I can taste any trouble in your narration, you tell your story so gracefully, and I already feel myself so deeply interessed, both in what regards your own person, and concerns the adventures of a Prince so accomplished as Caesario, as it is only a divertisement of this nature, that has power to conclude a short truce betwixt my griefs and I. The Gods grant, replied Candace embracing her, you may receive as happy a release of all your sorrows, as my wish can contrive for my own misfortune; In the mean time since you have relished some pleasure in the beginning of my story, I hope the part untold will much improve it, because it contains adventures of more importance, and much more worthy of your attention.    

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA: OR, Love's Masterpiece. PART III.  
LIB. II.  
ARGUMENT.  
The politic practices of Tyribasus, to play the double game of his Love and ambition. He seizes the sinews of the Kingdom, surprises Meroe, and secures Candace's person. Caesario hastily advances with his thin Army, to pluck the prey out of his hands: defeats Antenor 's forces by the way, and kills him. Fights the gross body of Tyribasus Army, with his handful of wounded men, which is all cut off, and himself (after he had deeply hurt and unhorsed the Tyrant) thrown to the ground among the dead. The unhoped intelligence of his miraculous escape, stops the source of Candace 's tears for his loss; by a secret combination, he plots her liberty, and the Tyrant's ruin. Surprises the Palace by night with 4000 Men, and sends her down the Nilus to the City of Bassa; She is taken in the way, by the Pirate Zenodorus. Her strange delivery from the rage of his brutish lust, by the successive assistance of Eteocles and Tyridates.  
WHile Caesario revenged the King my Father's death, by spilling deluges of the Faithless Nubian's blood, and by so many memorable victories, was raising his renown to the highest sphere of Glory, I stayed at Meroe under the guard of Tyribasus, and was long kept ignorant of my deplorable loss, 'tis true, an extraordinary sadness that sat heavy upon my heart, might well have hinted something to my fears, but I still imputed all to the absence of what I loved, and easily taught myself to believe, that to be barred by so vast a distance from the company and comforts of a Father and a Lover, was capable enough to wrap my Soul in the dull clouds of as deep a melancholy; at first indeed I confess it was often intermitted by the frequent intelligence of their happy progress in the War, nor could I receive young Caesar's letters, or listen to the language of some that rung the report of his gallant actions through the City, with a mean or trivial delight, and yet that satisfaction, was still subject to the checks of those continual fears, that tendered his life, and I never understood how bravely he had beat off the foregoing dangers, without trembling at the thoughts of those that were were likely to follow.  
At last necessity became my intelligencer of this fatal disaster, and the arrival of the King's body conducted with a solemn funeral pomp to Meroe left them no possibility to keep the mask any longer upon the face of truth. Tyribasus whose authority allowed him the freest access to my person, was he that first undertook to break the ice and acquaint me with it, & his recital of that lamentable Tragedy brought me to the saddest estate, that any affliction of that nature was ever capable to reduce the weakest & most womanish resistance, besides the impressions of blood that still sink themselves very deep in a tender heart, the memory of those particular indulgences, and Caresses I received from the best Father in the world, produced such doleful and almost deadly effects within me, as begot a sad suspicion in all those that came on purpose to bring me comfort, that I would hardly be ever won to receive it; complaints, tears, and sighs, from which nothing was capable to divert me, were the only company I was willing to keep and converse with, for many whole days together, and those that saw me assist at the Funeral obsequies of that great Prince, with a face that gave colours of death, law, some reason for their fears, that the Daughter would follow her Father too fast to the other world to charge the Court with a second mourning; and yet I must avow that in my hottest fit of affliction, I could not be insensible at a letter I received from Caesario, since a sweeter Solace for my sorrows was wrapped up in that papper, than all other remedies were capable of giving; it was put into my hands, the next day after the King's obsequies by a man of his, whom he had commanded to stay the delivery, till I had received the sad news from some other hand; not willing that the first message of my misfortunes should come from him; I read it so often over as my memory has kept the words, ever since in the same order they were written, and I think they were these, or very little different.  
Cleomedon to the Queen of Aethiopia.  
MAdam, the Gods have thought it fit to call away the King your Father from the society of men, to show them by your Example, that even those persons that nearest approach their nature are not exempted from adversity, and they permitted me not, without the shame of surviving him to render you this feeble proof of the deep share I go in your affliction, yet they are all my witnesses, that if I had not endured my life for your sake, I should scarce have suffered him to resign his Being, from whom you had yours, and die alone without my attendance to the other world, nor can I stay my thoughts upon the sad condition, to which this deplorable news will bring you, without relapsing into those woes, that are little short of yours. I dare not Madam, dispute against the expense of some tears, your piety will doubtless pay to so dear a loss, which your interests here will not suffer me to come and wipe away before I have finished the sacrifice of that revenge I owe to my Master's Ghost, and tamed your disloyal people to an incapacity of raising new storms in the haven of your Government: but my affection calls to your grief for a little moderation, and alarms your Highborn heart to arm itself in its own greatness, for the encounter of these crosses that heaven prepared on purpose to try its Courage; they are those that may raise you trophies upon fate itself, who has only forced a misfortune to leap over some few years, which at last you could never have avoided, and they are only those (if that consideration deserves the weighing) that have power to appease the perturbations of a Spirit, which must still be torn with mortal inquietudes, so long as you are afflicted.  
This letter did really sweeten my displeasures more, than all the arguments of comfort could be raised by the whole company about me, and since 'tis but fit that I pass by those passionate and vain discourses, which flowed beyond all rule and measure from my head long grief, I will refer them to the judgement of your excellent nature, and only tell you that after I had rendered to the death and memory of my Father all that might well be expected from a child that honoured him as she ought, at length, Time, Reason and Caesario's remembrance, began to tame the tempest of my griefs and render me capable of Conversation.  
I was then solemnly crowned Queen of Aethiopia, and received all the Oaths of fidelity and allegiance with the ordinary formalities that were anciently used to my Predecessors: but Tiribasus still kept the power the King had left in his hands, as well over the Militia, as the customs and places of greatest importance in the Kingdom, nor did I trouble my thoughts in hatching any design to eclipse his authority, since I saw no reason to suspect he would abuse it, and indeed had I levelled my intentions at any such thing, I should not have found it a facile enterprise, for the King had mounted him to such a degree of puissance; as he left himself no possibility to ruin the works of his own hands, though he had lived to desire it; in all the discourses he now made me, he never mentioned the King's last words, that referred to his choice of Cleomedon for a Son-in-law and Successor, but I had understood from divers other persons, and found it so fitly suited with mine own inclinations, as I felt not the least aversion in my Soul against it, and preserved no other thoughts of that brave Prince, (the intelligence of whose fresh victories, was still daily brought us upon the wings of fame) than as he, whom the Divine concurrence with my Father's Will, and mine own wishes reserved for a partner of my Crown and Bed; these hopes were more and more confirmed by the still swelling report of his great actions, which guided him to a glory that might one day measure with that immortal renown, his Father's Sword had reaped: I impatiently expected the end of that civil War, that should bring him home to my embraces, when those designs were crossed by a sad revolution of my affairs, and some strange accidents that must succeed to the next place in my story.  
Tiribasus had so cunningly covered his ambitious aims, not only before, but for three Months after the King's death, as I could take no hold upon him with the least suspicion, and I saw he still deported himself with such an even indifferency, and an equal proportion of respect, as betrayed not the least sign in all his behaviour that would give my heart any hold of a revenging passion.  
In the mean time, he formed parties, fortified places, raised money, endeavoured to gain the hearts of the People and Soldiery, and secretly framed all the Engines of a formidable puissance, that was ready for motion, when his affairs should invite to a public appearance, then by degrees did his pride grow up to the same stature of his power, and began to hatch me a jealousy, which already whispered me some fears, that his greatness would declare against Caesario's interest, and openly oppose my designs in his favour: I would then have been glad of a power to have pulled him lower, but I saw my own weakness in the large glass of his puissance, and I could not inform myself of any state affair, without plainly perceiving that all the strength of Aethiopia was lodged in the head and hands of Tiribasus. However, he was now resolved to tread another path to his ends, than what he had formerly chosen, and in stead of expressing his love (if it were true that he did not put on a counterfeit passion on purpose, to play the game of his ambition better, as some after passages did seem to infer) by sighs, glances, interrupted words, with other ordinary marks of affection, he still hid the face of his affection within the vizard of a cold respect, while he tried to mine the Fort by other Engines, even the most considerable persons of my counsel, who often represented how much the necessity of my affair did urge me to choose a Husband, and give a King to my people, that might prop and assist my feeble sex, in the sway of so weighty a Sceptre.  
Caesario's absence made me disrelish all discourses of this nature, and endeavour to spin out the time till he might probably return victorious, by urging an excuse from my late disaster, whose unclosed wounds still bled too freshly, so soon to licence any thoughts that could lend an ear to their propositions.  
Tiribasus having thus begun by his agents was resolved to act the next part in his own person, and now thinking nothing too high and hard for his power to enterprise, he resolved to set his intentions at liberty, and once more bring his passion into the lists against me. To that purpose, one day after he had entertained me a while with some State affairs, insensibly letting fall his discourse where he designed it, and in spite of all the resolution that fortified his natural boldness, changing pale at the thought of his undertake. Madam, said he, though your subjects, find nothing in your Government that is not infinitely above your Sex, yet if you scan your interests aright, you cannot but deem it requisite to bestow a King upon the universal vote of Aethiopia, as well to satisfy the ardent desire of your people, as to find a sweeter repose upon your own pillow; reason arms itself at all points to subdue your consent to this proposition, and urges the necessity of a Masculine head and hand, to defend your territories from the inchroachments of neighbour Princes, and keep your warlike people (apt enough for insurrection) in a happy and calm obedience. He let fall his eyes when he came at this period, and by that action taught me to divine a part of his intentions, this thought struck my soul with a very sensible displeasure, and desirous not only to check, but if possible to blast his hopes. I have yet seen Tyribasus, said I, no such pressing necessity as you seem to imply in your proposal, since if they rightly balance your wisdom, still seconded by those prudent heads that assist you in the management of State-affairs, the Aethiopians need not to be hasty for a King to rule them; however when I find my own and the general interest requires it, I shall not refuse, according to your good advice, the alliance of a Prince, whose Government may prove agreeable, and protection advantageous to our people. I cannot think, Madam, replied the interessed Tyribasus, you can promise yourself any safety in going beyond your own Confines for the choice of a Husband, since if you once empower a stranger King to carry the Crown of Aethiopia into a foreign Dominion, besides that your People's liberty must follow it, which in such an election will doubtless find an inevitable ruint, your own condition will miss much of that sweetness and content you may enjoy with a person below your dignity, who can never be so ingrateful to forget that you stooped to take him up to a Sovereign authority. No Tyribasus, replied I, I shall hardly bow my Spirit to look beneath my own birth among an inferior rank of mortals for the choice of a husband; and though I were willing to lean to such low thoughts, you know, Tyribasus I could never justly act them, since all the right I might have had in my own disposal, was cut off by the King's last will, who named the person at his death he had designed to espouse me.  
Tyribasus discovering much trouble at these words, by the often changes of his colour; When the King named you that husband, said he, (by report of those that saw him) he had lost the greatest part of his reason, and I know you are too well advised, to cast your eyes upon a man that is no better than a fugitive, despoiled of goods, friends, revenue, and all that should support him, and one that could not have another Asylum in the whole world, but what your Father gave him; besides he is Caesar's enemy, to whom (after the narrow escape of his pursuit by disguising his name and condition) he will be no sooner known for what he is, but he will draw the whole Roman Puissance upon himself and all those that support him; his birth (since we only take his own word for it) is uncertain enough, and suppose I grant him born of Caesar and Cleopatra, I shall yet hold him inferior to the meanest Prince in the world, if the issue of a lawful bed.  
I was deeply incensed at this rude language of Tyribasus, in contempt of Caesario; and had I let fall the reins of my resentment, I had doubtless shown him the saucy and uncivil injury he offered me at the perfect magnitude, but I was fearful to exceed the decorum of modesty, by patronising what I loved, with too much ardour, and from that consideration, not without using some violence to bind my spirit, I was content to return him this answer.  
The dying King declared no intention in Cleomedon's favour, that the dimmest eye about him might not easily discover, had been long designed in his perfect health, and therefore it was rather an effect than a disease of his reason, that made him publicly avow that esteem at his death, which had dwelled very long in his breast before, his birth is such as he need not envy the highest extraction upon Earth, if he be a fugitive, despoiled of goods and friends, it is only the default of his fortune, which yet he advantageously repairs by his virtue; and if Caesar still hunts his life, we have power enough to oppose his persecution, to which we are deeply obliged, by the grandeur of his daily actions, and the glorious victories he still stains for our service.  
What Madam, replied Tiribasus, wholly transported, is it then true that you prefer Cleomedon before so many considerable men among your Aethiopians, that are a thousand time more capable to command them, and more worthy to obey you than that stranger? and where are those men, replied I, among the Aethiopians, that are worthier to command than Caesario? See Madam, answered the audacious Tyribasus, clapping his hand upon his breast, Tiribasus alone not only by his virtue, but all sorts of other advantages, carries a better title than Caesario, to every thing that may be called the reward of merit; it is my love, Madam, and not my ambition that composes this language, or if there be a little tincture of ambition in it, it is only to possess Candace, and not her Crown, this passion, that has so long been the Prisoner of my fear to displease you was never extinguished, and if it once more adventures to break from its melancholy Cell, and invade the light, 'tis because you have brought it to such extremities, as it could no longer endure to be led in so short a chain, while I thought it could not appear without the sin of offending you, she never so much as help up her dejected head, but now in avowing Cleomedon's, you authorize her liberty and 'tis from his fortune that he borrows her boldness, if he be worthy to serve you, I may challenge pre-eminence by the right of a thousand reasons known to the whole State, and if the Aethiopians must submit to the dominion of one of us, sure they will sooner choose to obey one that was born in the bosom of their Country, than put on the shameful yoke of him that is an alien.  
He would doubtless have gone on in this peremptory language, if grief and anger strained to their highest extreme, by his unparallelled rudeness, had not provoked me thus to intercept him.  
Insolent man, said I, (darting a look at him, composed of scorn and anger) if my indulgence has fed thy pride so high to starve thy duty, I will make thee know thou hast played the fool to abuse it, and instead of making thyself a Sovereign to thy fellow-subjects, thou shalt soon feel that thou art still my vassal. I will never dispute, replied Tyribasus, the command you have over me, but Cleomedon shall always find my pretences are neither inferior to his in power or merit.  
I had certainly lost all thoughts of patience, if after these audacious words he had stayed longer in my presence; but, willing to avoid the first bolts of my choler, he withdrew himself without staying for an answer, and left me liberty to converse with the anxious thoughts, and digest the choleric humour he had stirred within me.  
I should find it a hard task to represent myself, as my resentments had then rendered me, and the agitations of grief and anger still kept so strong a pulse at my heart, as made me that whole day incapable of any company; Oh! how did I accuse the King my Father's memory, for lifting one of his Subjects to so prodigious a height, as gave him commission to offend me with impunity! what vain and airy inventions did my fancy frame, to ruin the power of that man, and stay the execution of his wicked inventions! but alas, which of these thoughts could lead me the way to a probability of prospering in such designs! I than considered I was young, a Maid, and Queen to a People, whose whole herd afforded not a Man that durst shock with Tyribasus puissance, without the support and assistance of some faithful persons, I found it impossible to shape any Engine or Enterprise against him; nay had I encountered some loyalty among my own, they would still have wanted strength to manage so haughty a design. Only Cleomedon (and he divided from me by the large Tract of Provinces betwixt us) was the sole person, upon whom I could fasten any rational hope of rescue; for besides, what the high reputation that his virtue, his grand services, and the King my Father's last will had won him among the Aethiopians, might promise me, I expected all things from the greatness of his courage, and I knew his proper interest would engage him to the conservation of what another would unjustly deprive him.  
I resolved then to call him home from Nubia, without considering how much his presence might still be necessary among those faithless people, from whom he had already gained three Battles, and taken in a great part of their strongest Garrisons, and without staying the result of a farther deliberation, or ask the advice of any person, I wrote to him in these terms.  
Candace Queen of Aethiopia to Prince Cleomedon.  
THE victory that inseparably waits upon your Sword, to those places where occasion invites you to draw it, cannot defend you at this distance from that injustice your Enemies and mine are plotting against you; Tiribasus would rob you of what is due by the triple title of the King's last will, your services, and my inclinations, and I find myself too weak to resist a puissance he has injuriously wrested from me by usurpation. Come away then my dear Caesario, with all the Forces are left you, to dispute pretences of more importance, than the recovery of Nubia, against Enemies more cruel than any you have there to encounter. I had rather lose that part of my Dominion, than prove a sad witness to the loss of those hopes you have just conceived of Candace's affection.  
I trusted this Letter to the carriage of one of my own Servants, whose fidelity I knew deserved no suspicion, but it never arrived at Cleomedon's hands, and understood a long time after, that not only my first messenger had been intercepted and imprisoned by Tiribasus, but all the rest that I sent besides, which denied me a possibility of receiving any news from Nubia.  
In the mean time Tyribasus was not ready to improve these beginnings to a progress, and since the last undisguising of his aims, pretermitted no occasion that might openly show his designs, and acquaint every common eye with his amorous addresses, as if he had entered the lists of Love upon equal terms, and borrowed his boldness from a parity of condition. I had almost died with despite at his effrontrey, and he no sooner opened his mouth to resolicite his suit, but I still gave him a rude repulse in terms so sharp and galling, as would have infallibly urged any spirit but his, to have raised his Siege, as doubtless himself had done, if his Love and Ambition had not drawn in the same yoke, and his desire of possessing me, been freshly supplied with new heats from his aspiring design, to set a proud Crown upon his head.  
One day offering me his hand to lead me to the Temple, and perceiving that after a disdainful rejection of his, I had taken my Squire, I see my services, said he, are very distasteful, though I know no other reason, than because they are offered with more zeal and ardour, than all you receive beside from the rest of mankind, and possible the same reason that your Majesty takes for a just incitement of your censure, would prefer them to estimation and acceptance in another Spirit; I should not refuse to receive them of you, replied I, as they are due from my Subject, if you would only pay them upon that score; but if they are brought to back any other aims, I know you not, because you have forgot to know me as you ought. It shall be the lesson of my whole life, answered he, to know you as my Sovereign Queen, at whose feet my Soul lies prostrate by the command of a double authority, nor will I ever entertain one single wish to get a dispensation of that homage. I here freely quit you, replied I, of all you owe me, provided you will see me no more, and 'tis that Tyribasus, the best and most agreeable service I shall ever receive at your hands.  
Tyribasus perceiving I began to kindle at this discourse, would press it no further, but, losing all hope in his designs to vanquish my aversions in these weapons, he resolved to work his ends with ruder instruments than Love and Sweetness, which he plainly saw had done him no service: suspecting the prejudice Delay might produce, and fearing that Cleomedon returning from Nubia, and winning all the honest party to espouse his quarrel, might give a dangerous shock to his illgotten authority, he concluded from the arguments of an impulsive necessity to defer the blow no longer.  
He was ready assured of all the strong places in the Kingdom, to the command of which, he had still observed the caution to prefer no others but such as were all at his own devotion, the treasure was wholly in his hands, or in those of his creatures, and without his order neither Garrisons nor standing Troops could receive any payment, he had so perfectly brought the Officers hearts with his liberalities that still came from my Coffers, as they were all at his disposal, and when he flew at the highest pitch of his Master's favour, having made it his care to gain himself a popular esteem, by procuring some royal grants, that carried the face of a public good, he thrived so strangely by those sly insinuations, as there were few persons among the Aethiopians (and those of the best quality, who because of their Birth and Virtue, would not be corrupted by his Gifts and Flatteries) that he had not engaged to favour his ambition: besides, finding a pretext of making grand Levies to send into Nubia, where Cleomedon's forces by fight so often were much enfeebled, he had raised in divers parts of the Kingdom above six score thousand men, which disposed into several bodies, instead of marching towards Nubia, he had lodged in Garrisons, and caused them to be exactly paid; by which mean; he made himself sure of their hearts, and held them readily disposed to act his commands, without balancing any thoughts upon the cause or quarrel.  
These traitorous practices were not so secretly carried, but I had notice of them, from some that suspected his drift, and still preserved his unpoisoned fidelity; yet I found my condition too weak to countermine his plots, besides I had cause to fear that if I first declared, I should but spur him with a greater speed to his haughty Enterprise, from which a little patience might possible divert him till Cleomedon's arrival, in whom I had circled all my hopes; But I received not one answer to all the letters I had written, and, then ignorant how the treachery of Tyribasus had used them; I injustly accused my dear Caesario, for taking so slight and supine a notice of my affairs and his own.  
When Tyribasus had ripened all his Contrivances for the purpose he intended, he resolved to stay the execution no longer, and one morning before the birth of day, there entered, there by his Orders into Meroe, at seven or eight several gates about 30000 Soldiers under the Command of his brother Antenor and two other of his friends, and presently seized upon the cross ways; the ends of streets, and all other places that were most fortificable in the City, to prevert or oppose the people's rising, if any such thing should happen.  
The City was no sooner reduced to this condition, when Tyribasus appeared in the streets, with a throng at his heels of his chiefest Partisans, whereof the greatest number were of the most considerable persons among the Aethiopians, whose abject dispositions had listed themselves so many fawning slaves to his fortune, and showing himself in public places, he made Orations to the Soldiers and people (which the Novelty had drawn from their houses) interlarded with many artificial reasons: he represented that he had taken instructions from the common interest, and not his own, to contrive and hatch that design for public safety, that though his breast had long enclosed a passion for me, yet he would never have lifted his pretences to an honour, he confessed was much above him, if I had not obliged him to it, by the discovery of a resolution, to set the Crown of Aethiopia upon the head of young Stranger, a Fugitive, abandoned of God and men, without either support or refuge, but what he had borrowed of us: In fine, a man to whose Regency he knew the Aethiopian Nobility would never submit, and one they could suffer to share the Sovereignty, without provoking Augustus their mortal Enemy, and the whole puissance of the Roman Empire against them, he then insinuated they might make a fitter choice Prince in their own Country, whose inclinations and integrity they had known by a long tract of experience, and a man that neither wanted wisdom and clemency to Govern, nor valour to defend them from all sorts of Enemies; that the Queen though prepossessed with some partiality to the young Stranger, would in time be reduced to do homage to Reason, when once she saw herself obliged by the universal votes of her people, and understood by the advertisement of time, that this petty violence was offered her to no other end, than her own advantage. He larded this discourse with other likely arguments to take with a people that were generally inclined to wish him well, and then supported by force, and assisted by fear (which of all the passions has the greatest operations upon base and vulgar Spirits) he obtained all his wishes of an intimidated people.  
The honest Party sighed among themselves, at the injuries were offered to their afflicted Princess, and the King their Master's memory, but they were too feeble both in force and number to divulge their dicontents, and the Soldiers first beginning to cry, Let Tyribasus be our King, let him espouse our Queen Candace, which was seconded so loudly by the general acclamation of those that favoured his ambitious Interest, as by little and little that beast the multitude (ever a friend to novelty and disorder) and now flattered by Tyribasus promises, took example by his friends and Soldiers to sing their parts to the same tune through all the streets: Let Tyribasus be our King, let him espouse our Queen Candace.  
The principal Inhabitants of Meroe that would not consent to this baseness and were not strong enough to oppose it, either kept themselves close in their Houses, or forsook the City, that they might escape the guilt of being sufferers or fautors of so black a Treason; and there wanted not some among them that secretly stole into Nubia, with a purpose to find out Cleomedon, and belly him to vindicate the quarrel of their injured Queen, or fall a sacrifice to loyalty.  
After the consent and acclamation of the people, Tyribasus called a Council that consisted of a few principal persons about him, he caused himself to be voted Prince of the Aethiopians, not supposing it safe (for fear of growing odious by too manifest an usurpation) to assume the quality of King before he had espoused their Princess.  
You may easily judge that all these things (though begun in the first infancy of day) could not pass without any knowledge, yet the intelligence came late to my ear, and I first received it with such a troubled apprehension, as it was long before my astonished reason could come to itself, or put any thoughts in order to compose a resolution; at last calling for my clothes (for I was still in bed) I went out of my Chamber only followed by my women, with a few of my faithfullest Officers, that had taken an alarm from the noise to attend my person; I went hastily down the stairs, with a purpose to show myself to the people, and, if possible, by my presence put a stop to the progress of that mischief; but crossing the Pallace-Court, instead of my ordinary Guards, I found at the great Gate two battalions of Soldiers with unknown faces that defended it, and insolently laid hold of my Chariot Horses as they were passing through, and when I was lighted and come on foot to the Gate, resolving to show myself in the streets in that condition, those that guarded it, not daring to oppose my passage with the points of their Halberds, shut the Gate in my presence, which at that instance gave me intelligence, that together with my Crown, I had lost my liberty.  
I shall forbear to repeat the passionate complaints my resentments sent to Heaven, against the injuries of fortune, since to allow them a place in my story, would be as useless, as themselves were vain: yet I struggled very hard to keep a little moderation still at the helm of my behaviour, and serving myself with some courage that Heaven had naturally given me, I turned back to my Chamber, betraying less apprehension in my looks, words and actions, than would possible have been confessed by other persons of my age and sex, in a like disorder.  
When I was entered my Chamber, all my Maids throwing themselves at my feet, fell a bewailing with bitter sobs, tears, and lamentable complaints the calamitous condition an captivity of their Mistress, but instead of bearing my part, I fell a chiding the extremes of their affliction, and so strongly over ruled my own griefs, with such a constancy and assured aspect and gesture, as my Enemies could not so much as find a footstep of a tear upon my visage: I would needs have all the rest to compose their looks by my model, and to dispose them to it; Comfort yourselves my friends, said I, with this belief, that Tyrihasus may be your Tyrant, but he shall never be your King, if he must first be Candaces Husband.  
After these words, with the addition of a few others to the same purpose, I laid myself down upon my Bed, where I resolved to expect my Destiny with patience. I had continued in that posture a good part of the day, when (after he had brought his ambitious ends to the pass I related) Tyribasus came into my Chamber, followed by a part of those Traitors that favoured his design, who now no longer treated him as a particular Man, but a lawful King: as he entered my Chamber, and approached my Bed, he still affected some form of respect; and, instead of doing honour to his new dignity, I received him without so much as stirring from my place, or almost vouchsafing to turn an Eye upon his Visage: this coldness strangely surprised him, being doubtless prepared to receive the shock of something more violent and impetuous, and this unexpected encounter struck him dumb for a season, and set his thoughts on work to find out some other discourse than what he had premeditated to comfort me, but I gave them no time to finish it, and throwing a contemptuous look or two at him: You have done a brave and gallant act, said I, in despoiling a young Princess and your lawful Queen (committed to your guard, by her Father your King and Master) of her Crown and Liberty, repaid that condence with a grand fidelity, and made a geneous use of your Master's favour, whose inconsiderable bounty raised your crawling fortunes to this proud height and greatness, wherewith you have ruined his only Daughter.  
Tyribasus was deeper galled with shame at this calm reproach, than if I had edged it with sharper language and more vehemence, nor could he cover it so quaintly that it was not easily perceived by those were near him, but as he had dexterously learned to remove all the opposition that shame or remorse could plant in the way to his ends, he quickly recovered himself, and regarding me with more assurance, than the sense of his Crime might well have left him: You have some cause to accuse me, said he, for countervening your inclinations, and taking part with your Subjects to oppose your design in the choice of a Stranger, whom you could not have married without the ruin of your people, my endeavours are dedicated to the preservation and not the robbery of your birthright, and you have too long been mistress of my liberty, for me to attempt any thing against yours: You are still Queen of the Aethiopians, and shall ever be so, since Tyribasus will rather die than divorce you from that dignity: But since necessity requires that a man should share it with you, and with it obtain another a thousand times more desirable, and as much more glorious, you need not think it strange that the desire of acquiring you rather than that of reigning, should wing my pursuit of a fortune in that Path where possibility was my guide, after I had trod all others that did but lead me astray. That fortune thou talkest of, replied I, half mad with spite, is neither thine by birth nor merit, since there is too much baseness in the one, and too little worth in the other; and should I ever prove so degenerate, to think a subject might deserve my choice, sure I should not lose so much as a glance upon him, that seeks no other way to prefer himself, but by violence and treason. What ever thou dost by the licence of a vile usurpation, neither thy plundered authority, nor my weakness can disguise our conditions, and in spite of both, I shall always be the Queen, and thou shalt ever be my Subject. You should always have been my Queen (replied Tyribasus, dissembling the pique he received at my words) though Heaven had not given you a Crown, and I should ever have been your Subject, though the greatest Monarch upon Earth; but in your Authority and my submission, I shall not lose a grain of the glory I pretend to; and when Time and Reason (which I hope will quickly uncloud your Majesty's eyes) shall raise a power by degrees, to dissipate your first resentments, I know they must be succeeded by others of a gentler strain, that will no longer suffer you to regard him as an Enemy, a Traitor, and Usurper, that adores you with so powerful a passion, and so perfect a respect, and a man whose only zeal for your interests, has compelled him to displease you.  
He had said more in his own defence, if, after commanding him to leave me to my repose, I had not actually assured him, by turning away to the other side, that I was then resolved to exchange no more syllables with him. He thought it not fit to importune me further, and after he had strictly charged those persons about me to serve me with the same care and diligence as before, he quitted the Chamber.  
He still left me the whole Palace to myself, with some shadow of respect, and a guard for my person, little different in number to those that formerly waited, but they still followed me, not so much for honour and defence, as to abridge me of my liberty, and though with their attendance I was allowed to visit any part of the City, yet I never essayed to show myself in public, but I still found all the passages stopped, and the Gates shut upon me: the sense of my captivity galled me more than the loss of my Kingdom, but I endeavoured to support both with an invincible constancy, till the hand of Heaven should set a date to my afflictions, which I had little reason to hope from the help of a humane arm.  
In the mean time Tyribasus appeared with all the displayed Ensigns of Royalty, kept the same number of Guards and Officers about him, that always belonged to the Kings of Aethiopia presided in State-affairs, with an absolute authority, and though he placed my name with his in such Dispatches and Commissions, as carried the Royal signature, yet I was never called to their Councils, nor my consent or advice demanded in any affair of importance.  
The Tyrant perplexed me with his daily visits, and still discoursed me his passion, I confess with little alteration of respect, but he did so plague me with his own, and the solicitations of others to espouse him, as his cruel persecution often drove me beyond the bounds of that moderation I had proposed to myself.  
One day by an excessive redoubling these kind of torments, he had put me past all my lessons of patience, and after I had suffered him a while, not without constraint, to talk me his amorous trash.  
Tyribasus, said I, hold yourself to your first intention, which is to Reign, or (to name it better) to tyrannize over my Aethiopians, and trouble yourself no more with the other, on which you would have never bestowed a thought, if your ends had not led you to dress Ambition in the clothes of Love; had you loved the Person, and not the Crown of Candace, you would have sought out some other way to express it than by usurping her Estate, and detaining her person in cruel captivity, and if you cannot make that Crown sit sure upon your head, without espousing the legitimate Heir, know you shall never be lawful King of Aethiopia; the shortest way for you had been to cut me off from the world; and though I now knew you resolved to be my Executioner, that full assurance could not render me more your Enemy, than those hateful injuries you have already offered me.  
He seldom got better language than this at my hands, which yet he received with an unmoved aspect, expressing by all his words and actions, that he fixed his fairest hopes upon time, for the change of my humour.  
In the mean time I sighed away my sad hours, in this deplorable Captivity, while the King, my neighbours, my allies, and most of them my near kindred, were all so base as to let me lie in my Chains, without attempting my liberty, so strangely had the puissance of Tyribasus affrighted them; yet I strove to support their unkind, or rather cowardly oblivion, with a calm resentment, but I could not pass a thought upon Cleomedon, that was not the child of comfortless grief, nor find out the shadow of a reason, why he should be so ardent for my Interests in the Nubian War, and set so slight an esteem upon my Letters, which me thought was but too plainly proved, by the sloth of his obedience to come away at my command: What, would I sometimes say, with a storm of sighs and sobs, can he, for whom alone I suffer so many disgraces, appear so insensible, as not to vouchsafe one line in answer to my Letters, and am I still such a fool to link my soul to an affection, with so much obstinacy that has made me miserable, while he, dis-esteeming my repose, runs hotly on his chase of glory, perhaps not allowing one light reflection upon those torments I suffer for his sake, Ah Son of Caesar! is it possible, that among so many grand qualities, which inhabit thy soul, ingratitude should find a harbour? hast thou tied thy heart so blindly to the dotage of a vain reputation, to cashier the remembrance of a Princess thou didst once love, and a Princess that has lost her Crown and Liberty, only because she would not lose her interest in thee.  
Sometimes this thought would put me into very violent resentments against him, and might have possible produced something to his disadvantage in my breast, if Tyribasus himself had not served for his justification; one day (to convince my affection to Cleomedon) upbraiding me with some words he had seen in the Letters I wrote him, and this heedless confession of his fraud, by the help of a question or two suddenly asked him to that purpose, entangled him in such a Dilemma, as he could neither disavow their surprisal, nor deny that he had ever since detained my messegners in Prison: I received no slight comfort from the knowledge I took of Caesario's Innocence, and though I now despaired of conveying a Letter to his hands, since I miss that mark so unexpectedly, while I had my liberty, yet I cherished a hope, that the loud noise of my misfortunes would quickly travel with such an alarm to his Ears, as would infallibly bring him home to my succour.  
This hope was credited with a great deal of reason, and to seat every thing with a just method, in its own place that relates to my story, you are now to know, that while I languished in Prison, the victorious Cleomedon, had completed his conquests in Nubia, gained the last battle, and with his own hand killed Evander, the Enemy's General in a single Combat, when those faithful Ethiopians, that forsook Meroe, the same day my misfortunes began to appear in public, with divers others that followed him that way from several places arrived at his Camp, and brought the sad news of all that had happened: He received and resented it (as I since heard) with such apprehensions as became his affection, and after he had openly professed the detestation of Tyribasus treachery, in terms that expressed a noble indignation; in a few days time he settled the Nubian affairs, with as much prudence and precaution, as his impatience to be gone would permit him, and leaving that people no power to re-attempt such actions of a long time after, nor will to exchange the blessings of a quiet life, for the troops of miseries that march with an intestine war (after he had rewarded their Rebellion, with the death of 200000 of their men, the taking in of all their Cities, and six signal overthrows in the field) he put himself upon the way to Meroe, in the head of his victorious, though shattered Army, which now scarce amounted to more than 20000 men, the remains of so many Combats, where their Companions perished, but they were so entirely affected to Cleomedon's Interests, as they all took a solemn Oath, either to die with him in the quarrel, or revenge and re-seat their Queen in the throne of her Ancestors.  
In this confidence they had given him, without informing himself of the Enemy's strength, he marched towards Meroe with an admirable expedition. Those places in his way that held for Tyribasus, did but vainly oppose his passage, for he made all fly before him, with a marvellous facility, and his Army was now increased by the coming in of some faithful Subjects, that listed themselves in his Troops with the additional number of four or 5000 men; yet he could not make so much speed in his march, but Tyribasus had notice of it before he had left half the way behind him; the news made him hast away dispatches on all sides, to rally his Forces that lay scattered in their several quarters, into one gross body; and while this was doing, he sent his Brother Antenor, a brave and valiant Captain, with 30000 Combatants, that were then ready for a march to go meet Cleomedon. Antenor advanced towards him with great expedition, nor did Cleomedon make less haste to come to the encounter, the two Armies faced one another about six days journey from Meroe, that of Antenor's consisted of fresh and tried men, better Armed and appointed than Caesario's, and much the stronger in number, however Caesario (perceiving he could not safely allow himself the leisure to stay the balancing of those disadvantages) presented him battle, and fought it so fiercely as there had never before been acted so bloody a Tragedy upon the Stage of Aethiopia; I know not how to give you the particulars, but some that were Actors there, have since related me things that were altogether prodigious; Caesario flew upon his Enemies like a furious Lion, and sought more like an enraged Hercules, than a valiant Warrior; and after he had done things which would never have found belief among men, if the uncorrupted truth had not been brought away by so many Witnesses, he sought out the Brother of Tybribasus, killed him in the very middle of his Squadrons with his own hand, and that day suffering an excess of choler to trample upon the natural sweetness of his inclinations to pity, he animated his men with so many bloody examples from his invincible arm, as Antenor's whole Army were cut in pieces with their Captain, and there was scarce one man that escaped their fury: but to qualify this fortune, there were five or 6000 slain on Caesario's party, many of the rest hurt, and himself had received two or three deep wounds, that in spite of his spirit forced him for divers days to be a Prisoner to his Bed, not without some danger of his Life.  
He was ready to die with displeasure at this confinement, and as his own reason did assure him that the success of his affairs depended upon his personal diligence, so he might easily foresee a part of his following misfortunes through the present prohibition of his liberty by those unlucky wounds.  
The news of Antenor's total defeat quickly flew to Meroe, and if Tyribasus was torn with grief and rage for the death of a Brother, whom he highly esteemed, I did not celebrate my Caesar's success with a mediocrity of joy, nor offer the Gods any cold or sluggish vows for a continuation of their assistance.  
Tyribasus, half distracted with fury, and deeply vowing his brother's revenge, made such impatient haste to draw up all his Forces to a general Rendezvouz, as before Caesario could quit his bed and march from the place where his wounds had arrested him, we beheld above 100000 Combatants drawn together before the Gates of Meroe; and Tyribasus, after he had set a strong guard upon my person, and left another in the City, put himself into the head of them and marched against Cleomedon. But first, he came armed at all points to take his leave of me, and methoughts I saw his anger sparkle in his eyes, however he struggled with himself in my presence, to sweeten the fierceness of his looks. Madam, said he, till now I have spared Clemedon's life, because you loved him but the death of a dear Brother hath strangled all the pity I had for him, and I am now going to sacrifice him to the ghost of Antenor and mine own repose, to which he would be a perpetual trouble, should I still suffer him to stay in the world; the Tyrant's numerous Army, and Caesario's weakness, of which I was assured by a certain intelligence, had already filled me with fear of a sad event, that was founded upon too much reason, but this last threat that Tyribasus uttered with so proud a confidence, froze my soul with a mortal apprehension, and regarding him with an eye that could not stay some disobedient tears, which crept away upon my cheeks: Didst thou go against Cleomedon, said I, with forces equal to his, I would not harbour the least doubt of a certain victory, but feeble as he is, I hope the Gods in fight for him, will strike in my quarrel with the Sword of Justice: Tyribasus quitted my Chamber without a reply, and in a short time after the City.  
Cleomedon still kept his bed in a very weak condition near the place where he defeated Antenor's Army, when he learned that Tyribasus was coming to fight him in the van of 100000 men, his Army scarce consisting of 16000, and of those 10000 wounded, besides his own three hurts so excessively pained him, as they might well have disabled any other person of a more delicate Complexion to fit on horseback; but all these reasons could not oblige him to fly the Combat, nor lend any credit to the Counsel of his Governor and Friends, who earnestly pressed him to retire, as it was yet time enough if he had been willing: Were there but the least appearance of a possibility, said he, to reinforce our Army with any fresh supplies for the Queen's service, I would providently reserve my life for her interests, but since all my hopes are dead, only a few excepted that still breath in your valour, I had rather die generously with you, than take my life upon shameful terms, and carry it where it cannot be useful. I shall not blame any for retiring that can be affrighted with death, and with the help of those undaunted courages that dare stay with me and affront it, I may possibly strike some fear through the Soul of Tyribasus, in the very Centre of his Army.  
With this resolution he called for his Arms, and mounted on horseback, he advanced with that handful of men to meet his Enemies, who were all resolved to die in his Company.  
The next day he came in view of Tyribasus Army that covered all the Campania, and stretched itself out on either side, with two long half Moons to environ him, but he took not the least astonishment from that object, and turning towards his valiant Companions with as much vivacity and assurance in his looks, as if he had gone to triumph: My Friends, said he, we must all die to day for the service of our Queen, but in our death find a glory preferable to the condition of our Enemies, and offer Candace as fair a Sacrifice as she ought to hope from her faithful Subjects.  
At these words he charged in through a world of his Enemies, who not acquainted with his design to die, stood amazed at the prodigality of his Valour; they were all presently encompassed by the Tyrant's command, which they never so much as endeavoured to hinder, and Caesario seeking none but Tyribasus, made his name sound on all sides, and loudly called him to Combat wherever he addressed his steps or blows, Yet he had found it impossible to aboard him, by reason of those vast numbers that defended his person, if Tyribasus (who indeed was a valiant man) had refused the challenge. In fine, Caesario throwing down all before him, with blows that might better be called the effects of a desperate rage than a humane valour, (Tyribasus pressing towards him to facilitate his Enterprise) buckled with his Rival in the midst of his men, gave him two deep wounds in the body, and threw him from his horse to the earth in a swoon; but Tyribasus was quickly relieved by a great number of his own men that flew in to his rescue, and took him up from the place where he lay, and Caesario (constrained by the throng to turn his Sword another way) received so many blows from his Enemies on all sides, as at last by the great effusion of his blood, and the loss of all his forces, he fell from his Horse among the dead without either sense or knowledge: Scarce one man of his little Army escaped the slaughter, but they did things before they died, that may justly claim a pre-eminence in the story of those brave Lacedæmonians, that acquired so beautiful a reputation, by perishing with their valiant King at the battle of Thermopyle. Tyribasus lost twice that number of his own men that composed their Army, and himself ran a greater risk of his life, than ever he encountered in all his former dangers.  
In the mean time I stayed at Meroe busied with fears, tears, and prayers, wherewith I incessantly solicited Heaven for Caesario's safety, every thing my thoughts could glance at, served to feed those apprehensions that destroyed my repose, and I had already worn out many tedious nights, without so much as closing my Eyelids, when to redouble my cruel inquietudes, the day before I learned the sad news, my fears had so often foretold; Clitie delivered me a Letter she had newly received from an unknown Soldier, as she came back from the Temple; suspecting the truth, I opened it with a trembling haste, and met with these words which the poor Prince had wrote, hazarded to that Soldier's fidelity some few hours before he had charged his Enemy.  
Cleomedon to the Queen Candace.  
IF any reason could instruct me how to render my life still serviceable to your interests, I would not stock it upon so desperate a cast in this unequal Combat; whereto I am now marching without any hope of Victory, and this incertainty might happily induce me to preserve it, if something did no prompt me with a probability in this attempt, of tumbling Tyribasus from the top of his plundered honour. Madam, if I can sacrifice him to your just resentments, and redeem you that precious liberty and repose (of which he has so barbarously bereft you) at the price of his blood and mine, I will spill them both to a drop, and perish without reluctance; but if death cuts me off before I execute the Traitor, pardon the failing to my weakness, and let pity preserve some remembrance of him, who could not part with his life upon terms of more happiness and glory, than to die for the rights of his Royal Mistress.  
The perusal of these words laid a greater weight of woe upon my Soul, than ever yet it supported, and though of late it had been argued with many anxious perplexities, yet I now resented so cruel an increase of my misery, as rendered me incapable of company and comfort; I spent that day in Tears and Sighs, but the next that succeeded it was yet more dolefully employed, since it brought me the accomplishment of all my fears, in the sad news of Caesario's bloody defeat, with the loss of his whole Army, all those that had made me the recital, assured me he was seen fall dead from his Horse, after he had left some impression of revenge upon his Rival in two dangerous wounds he had given him, and done actions besides of so stupendious a nature, that they seemed to hold as great a disproportion to Truth, as those fictious tales of our ancient Heroes.  
Madam, you will easily judge, how cruelly the sense of this disaster stretched my heartstrings, and to confirm that thought, you may please to know that I sunk dead in my woman's arms, and lay a long time in that condition, before the remedies they applied, could bring back my senses that were all fled away from their usual offices; and when at last they waked me from my trance, I fell a wailing my loss in the dolefullest accents, that were ever expressed by the lawfullest and most impetuous grief: and all my actions persuaded those about me, that I was become an Enemy to my Life. My woman durst not stir from me in that estate wherein they saw cause enough to fear, that my own hands would dispatch the business of my despair, and all that day I was strictly guarded, rather as a distracted person, than a Princess, that in the preceding accidents of her life, had given the world so far a Sample of her constancy.  
When my sighs had left me some liberty to speak: My dear Caesar, cried I, since thy soul is driven from her sweet habitation for my Interest, 'tis but reason mine should follow her to the other world, and I am very willing to go keep thee Company by resigning that life, which thou hast bought too dear at the price of thine; would to heaven I could have conditioned with the destinies aforehand to excuse thy thread for mine, thou shouldst have seen me run into the arms of my pale Executioner, with as great a greediness as hurried thee to this unequal Combat; but since the Deities denied me that favour, believe it I will do that without repugnance to follow thee, which I would have done with joy to save thee; there is nothing left upon Earth that has power to stay me here now when thou art gone, and my last Act shall tell that monster, who thinks he has securely seated his fortunes upon thy ruin, that all those flattering hopes will prove Impostors.  
To these succeeded a world of other words to the same purpose, and as the kindness I showed Cleomedon, had been publicly Authorised by the King my Father's will, so I made no scruple to avow the inclinations I had for him to all those that overheard me; the force of my imagination still kept his lovely image before my eyes both day and night, and my reason was sometimes so giddied with the violence of my grief, as talked to my poor Prince in such discursive terms, as if I had seen him there in a condition to return me an answer.  
My sorrows were risen to this degree, when Tyribasus came back to Meroe, or was rather brought back in a Litter, with the marks of Cleomedon's valour still about him, which had made him run such a manifest hazard of his life. He saw me not of divers days after his arrival, as well because his wounds confined him to his Bed, as that he yet feared (understanding to what desperate estate the violence of my grief had brought me) to appear in my presence; but so soon as the success of his cure would give him leave to take the air, he came to my Chamber. My passionate detestation of his last act, had still held itself up at the same impetuous height whereto it was risen at his first conception, and I no sooner saw him that was the cruel cause of it set his foot in my Chamber, but breaking into a furious outcry against him; Barbarous man, cried I, dost thou come to show me the bloody spoils of Cleomedon? and couldst thou not content thyself to rob the world and me of so great a treasure, without increasing my horror, by bringing the face of this inhuman butcher in my sight? comest thou to insult upon the miseries of a wretch, that is taking care to die, since thy cruelty has bereaved her of him for whose only sake she loved her life; and canst thou not think thy revenge complete in the murder of him that merited my affection, to the prejudice of the unjust pretences but thou must rudely press into my presence, to aggravate the weight of woe thou hast to my soul for ever? Tyribasus gave ways to this Torrent of words, which was violently followed by divers others of the same stamp, till they had wearied out my weakness to admit, from a tumult of sighs and sobs, the short interruption of some moment's silence, in which vacancy, striving against the stream of his own thoughts, to express some sorrow for what he had done: I am too deeply concerned in your displeasure, said he, to sing any Io Paean 's in your presence, for a thing that immoderately afflicts you; and though the death of my Brother, with divers of my friends besides, the dangerous impediments he strewed in the path of my intentions, and his particular design against my life, might leave me little cause of regret for the loss of Cleomedon; yet truth herself is my witness, that his death cannot sink so deep an impression of grief in your spirit, without stamping some sensibility of the same nature in mine; and were it now in my power to give him his life, though I knew it would prove yet a greater foe to my repose, believe it Madam, he should live again upon your score; but since the Gods have neither left it in my disposal, nor your power, by thus tormenting yourself to change his condition, whose obsequies you honour with the lavish expense of such a treasure of tears, choose a resolution worthy of yourself, and lesson your griefs for him the Destinies have ravished, with the consideration of what they have still left you, when you have once put all things in the scale of your judgement, you will not find your misfortunes weigh so heavy as you thought them; and time may possibly convince you to a belief, that your repose could never be better established, than upon this loss, to which your Eyes have paid so rich a Tribute.  
He had further pursued this discourse, if (no longer able to endure it) I had not thus passionately intercepted the progress: Cease wicked man, cried I, cease to exasperate my sorrows by thy base dissimulation, and injurious comfort, I do not expect thou shouldst drop any of thy Crocodile tears upon the grave of Cleomedon, nor ought I to take advice from thee how to temper my sorrows, thou hast not gorged thy cruelty enough with Cleomedon 's blood, and the game of thy ambition is but half played out, nor canst thou perfect thy revenge upon such an Enemy, unless thou dispatchest this other half of himself that he left behind him: thou hast no other way to fix the Crown upon thy head, which so long as thou lettest me live will sit but tottering, and when thou hast once reunited me to that part of myself from which I cannot long be separated, I will forgive all the bloody injuries thou hast done me.  
To these words I added many others with such an excess of vehemence, and so large a quantity of tears, as Tyribasus (not able to resist some risings of pity in his breast) quitted my chamber, and left me a little comfort behind him in his absence. Madam, it would ask too long a time to repeat all the passionate complaints that confusedly bubled up from the source of my excessive sorrow: my afflictions were strong enough to block up all the passages of nature; and the contempt of life would infallibly have laid me in the dust, since grief alone had strength enough to drag me to my tomb, if the tender care of my attendants had not half compelled me by perpetual solicitations to receive some nourishment, or rather the Gods to whom the state of my condition was better known than myself, had not decreed me a longer life, I think on purpose to make it the mark of more misfortunes: and thus by their secret order, I drew out my languishing days in so lamentable a manner, as doubtless might have furnished the rockiest souls with a sense of pity. The Name of Cleomedon was eternally in my mouth, and his Idea incessantly in my memory; the continual torments I inflicted upon myself had already frighted the fresh colour from my cheeks, and that slender stock of beauty, wherewith the general opinion till then had flattered me, began to shrink itself behind a cloud, and suffer so sickly an Eclipse, as those persons that were most familiar with my face, had much ado to know me.  
I would now no longer look upon Tyribasus, but as a Monster that was ever ready to devour me, and when ever he approached my presence, I still fled from him if it were possible, as I would have done from a Tiger or some other Beast moe savage.  
After having suffered for a time (I confess with some patience) this rigorous usage at my hands, he began at last to change the face of his behaviour towards me, and he now sought at several encounters to make me understand, that since sweetness and respect had failed to win me, he would serve himself in a severer manner, with the power he had in his hands to subdue me; but I held my life at so poor a rate, as it easily gave me a contempt of all his menaces, and the deep vows I often took in his presence to be my own Executioner, when ever he attempted any thing upon me by violence, arrested the effects (for a time) of his wicked resolutions. Thus had I lived near two months' time since the loss of Caesario, and now I had quitted my Chamber, and begun to walk in the Palace-gardens, a liberty was allowed me in the presence of my guards, who strictly observing their Master's command, attended all my motions, only when I walked the Allies with my woman, they kept themselves at a distance, and provided I was within a reach of the Eye, they took so little care to be nearer my Person, as sometime they suffered me to be two or three hundred paces from them: at the beginning of my restraint, they were much more exact, but Tyribasus was willing to lengthen my chain a little, with design to soften my heart, and sweeten my rigours against him, securing himself with a confidence, that since he had laid Caesario in the dust, he had no more enemies left, that were capable to enterprise any thing for my deliverance.  
For the most part I suffered no man to come near me in those walks, and my Esquires, with the rest of my other Servants in ordinary, whose offices enjoined them to be near my person, stayed by my order with them that guarded me, while I admitted no other attendants but those of my own sex, nay I often commanded my women too to stay behind me at a distance, while propping myself upon Clitie's arm, I sought out the solitariest places to entertain my sad thoughts with Caesario's memory.  
One day I was busied in this melancholy employment, and (supported on either side by Clitie, and my Governess Eurinoe, in whom I reposed an equal confidence) was walking in an Alley, about 200 paces from my Women, and more than twice that distance from my Guards and Officers, when at the corner an of Alley that led to the same Arbour, where Caesario surprised the secret darling of my heart, I spied two men coming towards us very fast; they were black as the greatest part of the Aethiopians are, but methought I observed something in the shape and garb of one of them that invited my eye to a particular attention: as they made their approach nearer, I read some astonishment in their looks and gesture, and well they might borrow it from the change they encountered in my visage; they made a stop right against us upon Clitie's side, and giving me a low reverence as I passed, according to the Country mode, one of them called Clitie by her name pretty loud. Clitie turned her head towards them; but supposing the men had only named her in their discourse without particular design, went on with me in her talk, without any further glance at their meaning, when the same man that had named her, advanced some paces after us, Clitie, (said he, with a voice as loud as we might well understand him) Clitie, contrive it so that I may speak with you; and after he had uttered these words, he turned his back upon us, and softly retired with his companion towards another Alley, that they might avoid the encounter of those that followed us.  
If Clitie was astonished, myself was not less surprised at this adventure; and methought I apprehended something in the tone of that voice, that carried through my ear an extraordinary alarm to my heart. Clitie regarding me wholly irresolute, Madam, said she, what do you please I shall do? My thoughts would not let me observe her question, so well to answer her, when Eurinoe taking the word; Madam, said she, me thinks 'tis very fit that Clitie should go speak with this Man, who knows but he may have something to impart of a deep concernment, and as your condition is now tempered, such overtures cannot be despised with a safety of discretion.  
Clitie perceiving that I did not oppose this advice, stayed for no further Commission: but observing to what part of the Garden those two Men bend their steps, she feigned an intent to cull some flowers for a Nosegay, and cunningly wand'ring that way, she insensibly transferred herself from flower to flower, till she arrived at that part of the Garden where she saw them take Covert, without giving the least shadow of suspicion to those that followed us.  
In the mean time I entered that Arbour with Eurinoe, and the rest of my train, which because it freshly hinted Caesario's memory to my thoughts, presented many pleasing passages of our innocent affection, and had been the Scene of so many delightful Dialogues between that Prince and I, was particularly endeared to my choice above all the rest; but a sad reflection upon those survived felicities, could not choose but set some tears at liberty, which troubled my good Governess to wipe away, as they crept along upon my cheeks, after I had spent half an hour upon this employment, propped with Eurinoe's arm as before; I went out again to repeat my walk, when I saw Clitie coming back with a face that carried all the marks of a grand astonishment, and as great an impatience; her approach in that manner shook my soul with an extraordinary emotion, and judging she had something to say, that required no witnesses, I doubled my pace to go meet her with a pretence to give her my other hand that was free, she tenderly pressed it with an action full of transport, and I saw she was in combat with her own amazement, and had offered twice or thrice to speak, without being able to get out any more words than Madam. Every thing confirmed my opinion, that she had some strange things to tell me, and feeling some secret pressures in my Soul, that gave me no less impatience to learn her discoveries, I walked so fast with the help of my supports, as we had quickly left my followers at a pretty distance; and Clitie, after she had turned her head to see if any were near enough to overhear us: Madam, said she, Madam, call home your banished joys, Caesario is alive, Caesario is in the Garden, and it was Caesario you saw, the same whose voice you heard, and with whom I just now broke off in discourse.  
These words seized upon my soul with so strong and sudden a surprisal, as they wanted but little of making me fall in a swoon between my women's arms, and if they had not strongly held me up, I should doubtless have betrayed more weakness than I was willing to make known to the rest of my Company: for a time I stood both mute and motionless, regarding Clitie with a languishing eye that seemed to lend but little credit to her words, and the violent agitations of my spirit had put me into a cold sweat and so great a trembling, as no longer able to continue my walk, I was forced to sit down upon a bank that was near us. Experience had acquainted the rest of my women, with the pleasure I took to entertain myself alone with my two favourites, and perceiving me set, they made a stop at the place where they were, without approaching further; in the mean time, with much pain, I dispelled the force of my astonishment, and once more turning my eyes upon the face of Clitie; Ah! Clitie, said I, dost thou abuse me, or art thou abused thyself? no Madam, replied Clitie, I am not abused, I saw Caesario, I touched him, I spoke with him, I learned from his own mouth the particular of his strange escape, and if you please Madam, yourself shall see and understand as much before you quit the Garden: But Clitie said I, those two men we saw are black as any of the Aethiopians, and thou knowst Caesario is fairer than thou or any other of the white women that serve me. That sooty complexion, answered Clitie, is only artificial, and Caesario with the help of a little water will quickly take off all your doubts with the black mask from his face in your presence, as he lately washed the colour from one of his hands to cure my incredulity; he and his Governor Eteocles are both sabled with the same liquor, which is very common among the Aethiopians, that take a pride to be blacker than the hand of nature painted them, and he could not shroud himself in a securer disguise from the knowledge of his enemies, who (prepossessed with a general opinion of his death, and blinded with his false complexion) have often passed by him it the very face of the Sun without the least suspicion. Ah Clitie, cried I, letting myself fall upon her with open arms, I begin to find a likelihood of truth in thy relation, and indeed when that man called thee in my presence, I distinguished the true tone of Caesario's voice: Great Gods, continued I, lifting my hands and eyes to Heaven, great Gods, how abundant is your goodness!  
I made a stop at these words, so distracted, and transported with wonder, so divided betwin joy and astonishment, as my resentments were stopped up with their own tumult in my heart for want of power to express them.  
Madam, I need not strain my weak reason to describe the excess of gladness that confusedly floated in my soul; for since you have loved as well as I, and the powers above have paralleled our misfortunes so exactly, the cause of your present sorrows carrying so near a congruity to the same I suffered for two months' time, your own apprehensions will better inform you than any expressions of mine, how I relished this change of fortune.  
The Princess Eliza fetched a deep sigh, accompanied with some tears at this passage of Candace's relation, and lifting her watery eyes to Heaven, with a look that spoke for pity, with the best elegance of grief; Immortal Gods, said she, how deeply should I be indebted to your Divine bounties, had they such another favour to bestow on me! Methinks my example, said the Queen, should have strength enough to confute your despair, and should dee● myself infinitely happy, to be the instrument of giving a new birth to your hopes: Alas, replied the Parthian Prineess, I have little reason to ripen any such conception, such events as those are too too rare to be expected by miserable persons. At these words she fell to wipe away her tears, and after the Queen had assisted her in that employment, she thus went on with the thread of her discourse.  
When I had recovered judgement enough to settle my disordered apprehensions in a better method, I think I asked Clitie a hundred questions at a time, and with too much haste to procure my satisfaction, retarded it. Madam, said she at last, I passed the greatest part of my time that I stayed with the Prince in an astonishment equal to yours, before I could clear my doubts that he was really living, but when my Eyes and Ears had sufficiently confirmed it, I had not the conscience to keep the happy news any longer from your knowledge; to you he will doubtless render a larger account how he came by his life, if your Majesty now thinks fit to admit it, and I left him with his Governor Eteocles in the Alley that runs along by the branch of Nilus, that borders the Garden, I believe you may pass that way with secrecy enough, and speak to him without any danger, provided your discourse be not long, and you talk at a distance, forbearing such passionate gestures, as may give suspicion to those that follow us.  
My hasty joy would allow me but little time to consider Clitie's proportion, & my Soul was ready flown before me to meet Caesario, but my fear for his safety represented the danger in a greater figure than it really carried, and showed me some difficulties in that action, that made me tremble; In fine, I resolved to run the hazard, and after I had ardently recommended myself to the conduct of Heaven, and commanded Clitie to stay with the rest of my train, and hinder their nearer approach while I talked with Caesario, I advanced alone with my Governess to that alley upon the banks of Nilus.  
My timorous apprehension scarce left me strength enough to guide my steps to the place was designed for the interview: but when I was come so near to discern him, as he walked with Eteocles, a i'll studdering crept through all my body; affection, joy, and fear seizing my soul at the same time, with effects so violent, as they wanted but little of betraying themselves and me with too great a noise.  
'Twas well Clitie prepared me for this encounter; for had I met Caesario alive in the height of my despair, it was much to be feared that sudden surprisal would either have forced my weakness, or transport, to have blabbed the truth. As I made my approaches nearer (in spite of his artificial complexion) I easily revived my acquaintance with the lovely features, with the face, motions of his eyes, his shape and port, wherein there was something so noble as none could imitate. Nor had he an easier task to contain himself from falling at my feet to express what he felt, in the proper Dialect of passion, which doubtless was as headstrong and hard to be kept within the reigns of moderation as mine: but understanding the language of a sign I made him with my hand, he kept himself still in his place, and when I was come upon the other side the Alley right against him, I took up my station about six or seven paces from his; in the mean time Clitie stayed those that were coming after above two hundred paces behind us, telling them that I was in such a meloncholly mood that day, as I could not endure any company about me, and to that purpose had commanded her to leave me alone with my Governess Eurinoe.  
I had now fixed attentive regard upon my opposite object, and curiously seeking Caesario through his dusky disguise, by the help of those directions my heart had given me, I easily found him; but all I could yet say to congratulate his safety, was told him by my Eyes, was nonplussed, when the Prince, who had more courage than I, to command such disturbances, expressing that preface of respect in the Prologue of his looks, which he durst not adventure to act in the sight of so many observers: You doubt Madam, said he, you still doubt for the true Caesario, yes Madam I am Caesario, and still alive for you and your royal interests, Caesario drawn by the hand of a miraculous providence, from the brink of his tomb, that he might draw you from Captivity and oppression; this life which the arms of so many Enemies could not cut away from your service, is come again to your feet to re-dedicate it at your Altar, and contrive the faccrifice to more advantage, than it did in the rash assault of that last danger, from which the Gods so strangely retreated it, and Caesario appears before you in a disguise that is possible unworthy of his courage, but very necessary to hide and hatch his design for your service.  
So soon as Caesario began to speak, his voice completed my discovery of his person; and now discarding every little scruple that my fearful distrust had entertained, after I had beheld him with an eye, that in part represented the passionate motions within me: Caesario, said I, my dear Caesario, if I have cost you too much blood, I have paid you in tears, and your eye will easily trace the marks of a true grief in my face, which are all copied from those deeper impressions that your false death hath made in my heart. I have already learned too much of that from Clitie, replied Caesario, and though these pale proofs of your incomparable goodness are a thousand times dearer to me, than that life which the hand of Heaven snatched back from the jaws of Ruin; yet I cannot receive this glorious effect of my fortune by such an intelligence, nor look upon the injuries have been offered to those divine beauties without a parallel grief to the same that inflicted them; fear not my dear Caesar, I shall quickly clear up these clouds again, said I, since your life is restored me, and after the recovery of you, the looss of my Crown is no longer capable to afflict me; all that now lies heavy at my heart, Is the fear I have for you, and I cannot consider you so near your cruelest enemies without feeling an enforcement from my apprehensions to moderate the sense of my happiness. For the God's sake Caesario, be dearer to yourself; and since by the help of Heaven you have pulled the oppression of a mortal grief from my soul, that had buried all my joys in your supposed grave; as you love me and my life, let not the neglect of your safety, relapse me to my former miseries. Madam, I am now resolved for your sake, replied Caesario, since you are pleased to ordain it, to set the guard of greater care upon my life than ever, and I beg your pardon for forcing it to leap such a precipice of danger to so little purpose, at a time when possible it would not have stood idle or useless in your service. Indeed Caesario you have reason, said I, to plead pardon for this offence; for though you had studied all your life to disoblige me, you could not have found out any other way to hurt my heart with so deep a displeasure: but tell me now how Fortune contrived it to keep you still in the world, and in what manner you deceived the eyes of so many thousands that saw you fall off your Horse without life, among those Carcases that strewed the Field. If you please, Madam, replied Caesario, we will rather reserve that story for a time when you may have liberty to allow me a longer audience, and I cannot now contract it in so narrow a volume, as not to give your followers cause to pass a dangerous interception upon your stay in this place; I will only tell you, that the Plot is laid, and the Engines all at work for the dilivery and re-establishment of your Person and Fortunes, that four or five of your best Cities are already at our devotion, that we keep an intelligence in Meroe itself, and in short time (if heaven does not frown upon our Enterprise) I shall be able to knock off all your chains, and mount you the lofty throne of your Ancestors by breaking the cruel usurpers neck from thence. If that hope, said I, can endow my joys with any capacity of addition, after the assurance of your safety, it must be only for your interests, and then my content will reach perfection, when I shall have power with myself to bestow a Crown upon you, which my Father's intentions, and my own inclinations had always assigned you.  
In all probability, Caesario had framed a becoming reply to this obliging language, when turning my eye aside, I saw Tyribasus appear at the Alleys end, in the head of a numerous train, coming towards us: I was startled at this sight with the extremes of fear and aversion: and no longer daring to venture my Caesario near me, See said I hastily, Tyribasus is coming hither, retire in time and let me see you here again three days hence. He made me no other answer than a low inclination with his head, and seeing me pursue my walk, he turned with Eteocles into another Alley to avoid the encounter of Tyribasus, and those that followed me.  
The contentment of my soul (which breaking through the disguise I intruded it) was leapt up from thence into my looks, made me then suffer the sight of Tyribasus with a calmer temper than at other times; and though he could construe no kindness to himself in my face, yet I remember that I treated him with less impatience than ordinary, and my Caesar reviving killed the greatest cause of my hatred, I restrained that day a part of those reproaches with which I usually entertained him.  
When I was retired to my apartment, all the persons that served me might easily perceive the sudden change of my humour, and though my experience could point at none that deserved my suspicion, yet I strictly forbade my Governess and Clitie to impart a syllable of what they knew to any, for fear the weakness of some among them should betray the secret, and indeed it carried too geeat an importance to be safely trusted in many breasts; for those two that were partners in it, I knew they had discretion and fidelity enough to keep it against the cruelest menaces of death, and they managed it so prudently, as none of their words or actions ever left any hold for the least suspicion to fasten on.  
Having thus recovered my gasping joys by such an unexpected kindness of fortune, I had much ado to moderate their excess, and I passed a large part of the first night and the following day with my two confidents, in an entertainment very different from those lamentable discourses and complaints that had swallowed so many of their Predecessors. Now my Caesario is not dead, said I, I will not bestow one single sigh upon the loss of my Crown, since my hopes are still alive to recover it, so long as my Caesar is so. I had consigned him the third day to meet me in the garden; though I made it my daily walk, but I durst not see him too often, for fear our frequent interviews should direct my servants to a dangerous curiosity.  
He came according to appointment: our discourse was very short, but filled with interchanged vows of a never-dying affection, and during one month and a half I thus still saw him twice a week. He always crossed the Nilus to the Garden in a little boat, and very securely; for though he had been taken in the matter, that walk upon the bank was so common, as none would have thought it strange.  
He employed all the times I told you of in the conduct of his secret practices for my deliverance, at first being utterly destitute of men, victuals, money, every thing that necessity required for the owning of an open war against Tyribasus; at every visit he rendered me a short account of what had passed, and by this means I understood the intelligence he kept with all the honest party of the Kingdom, by the agency of Telemachus and Oristhenes, with whom he had several meetings by night, and by whose means he had drawn five or six of the best Cities in Aethiopia to his party, every day was witness to a hopeful increase of his petty numbers, and he now stayed the striking of a considerable blow, but for a little better condition to make it hit the surer.  
In the mean time the consolation I received from these hopes, called back the banished blood into my cheeks, and I appeared to every eye in as perfect a possession of health and colour, as ever my life had been acquainted with.  
Caesario saw this change with unexpressable contentment, but the return of this little beauty that kindled them, did now more than ever enrage the flames of Tyribasus, and still as he felt his passion grow more unruly, so he pressed me to espouse him, with a more imperious importunity than before he had practised. I defended myself from his batteries with the same disdain of his person that had so often repulsed him: but now he began to assault me with an invincible obstinacy, and in fine, became so insolent, as one day after he had treated me very rudely: Madam, said he, since I see you still take a tyrannous pride to abuse the respect I have shown you, and provoke me to destroy all the considerations that flowed from that Fountain, I must take leave to tell you, that I will now rouse and arm that power in my own behalf, that has slumbered so long in the arms of my injured patience: You shall only have eight days more to obtain a resolution of yourself to espouse me; and if in that time you fail to overcome your obstinacy, I shall know well enough how to oblige you to it in spite of your aversion.  
Before he departed my Chamber, he openly confirmed this menace with deep Oaths in the presence of all his followers, which on the sudden so decrested my spirit as I could not command courage enough to return him a syllable.  
The very same day I met Caesario in the Garden, who flew into such a fury at the relation I gave him of this last passage, as he had much ado to restrain himself from going to give the Tyrant death in the midst of a thousand swords, where infallibly he would have found his own; but his passion (in homage to the reasons I urged) fell at last by degrees to a cooler temper, and after he had taken some time to scan the advice of every thought; Tyribasus, said he, has forced me by his violence to precipitate a design, which is not yet ready to disclose, and whereof the success will not probably be such as I might have promised myself, had it stayed for a maturer birth, but of this he shall be sure, that I will either perish with many partners in my quarrel, or slain the saffron robes of his expected Hymen, with the black blood that is nearest his perfidious heart.  
He said no more, but presently after parted from me without prefixing either time or place for our next meeting, I retired to my Chamber trembling at the threats of both the Rivals, and if on one side I feared the violence of Tiribasus, on the other I could do no less than shudder at the thoughts of those grinning dangers which Caesario was going to attempt for my relief.  
This aguish fit of fear held me divers days without intermission; during which Tiribasus redoubled my terrors by many evident proofs that he meant his menaces, and the public preparations he made for his marriage would not let me find the least flaw in his resolution, I should sooner have chosen to have lain alone in my grave, than received such a partner in my bed, but I was then reduced to such a wretched condition, as my fancy could glide at no particular that lay in the way to my wishes, which did not represent the face of terror, and I saw myself besieged with so many pregnant causes of fear, as I found it utterly impossible to calm my inquietudes.  
I detain your attention too long in this troublesome passage, and 'tis now time to lead it to the latest accidents of my life.  
The sixth day was already passed, with a great part of the succeeding night, since Tyribasus dated my sad expectations, when we were waked with a thundering noise which we heard in the streets of Meroe, that principally bend the loudest clamour at the Pallace-gates, where there was fought a very great and furious Combat. Caesario by means unknown to me, was come that night into the City, after he had cunningly, by degrees, slipped in 4000 valiant men before him at several gates, by the help of a spreading intelligence that he kept in all parts of the City, and marching in their van directly to the Palace, he had attacked the outguards, and fought it so successfully, as all those that defended the first Gates were cut in pieces, and the furious Caesario was already broke into the Court, where he made whole brooks of Rebels blood on all sides.  
Tyribasus, whom the loud alarm had wakened, was quickly got upon his feet, and causing arms arms to be cried in every quarter, by that means he called all the Guard that belonged to his person about him; a hundred Torches were lighted up in an instant, and being got by their direction out of his Chamber, he would fain have run where the noise called him, but the confusion distracted his thoughts, and by this time he heard it was come round about him; for at the same time that Caesario with 2000 men, had opened himself a passage at the great Gate, his two friends, Telimachus and Oristhenes, each with a thousand at his heels, had broke in at two other Gates behind, that were but slightly guarded, and by three several ways Tyribasus saw his Enemies enter the Palace, putting all to the sword they encountered, and sending up a loud cry where ever they came Long live our Queen Candace, and let the Tyrant of Aethiopia die, kill the Tyrant.  
Tyribasus in spite of all his courage, could not choose but tremble at this surprisal, but endeavouring to dispel his amazement with as much promptitude as possible, he ran with his sword in his hand with all those that had taken the alarm, to the head of the great stairs, and had begun to descend some of the first steps, when he saw the valiant Caesario all covered with blood, coming up to encounter him, and having left off his black Mask, Tyribasus by Torchlight presently knew him: his astonishment was strangely redoubled to see the dead come back from their Graves to procure his ruin, but his reason had no time to tract that adventure to the Fountain, and Caesario no sooner spied him, but fiercely springing towards him with nought but terror in his looks and actions, Thou must die Tyribasus, said he, Tyrant thou must die. Tyribasus was affrighted at the Menace, and though perhaps at another time he would not have refused Combat against Cleomedon, yet than finding his forces too feeble to maintain it, and knowing besides if he could but avoid that encounter, and recover the City, his party would soon be the strongest, he turned his back upon his Rival, and thrusting himself among his men, he ran with all the hast he could make towards a door that he spied open: Caesario furiously pursued him with his sword at his Reins, and divers of his men (desperately pawning their lives to preserve their Masters) opposed his passage and if they were unfortunate enough to fall under the steel and rage of Caesar's Son, at least they gave Tirybasus time to gain the door, and from thence crossing the next Chamber, by a little pair of stairs (wherewith he was well acquainted) slipping down without the least resistance in the Court, and there mingled himself with the tumultuous throng he passed undiscovered from thence into the streets.  
In the mean time you may easily judge how strongly my Soul was alarmed, the noise had waked me at the first irruption, and my imagination quickly construing the cause, I started out of my Bed, and ran to the window that looked into the Court, from whence, by the light of divers Torches, I beheld a part of the slaughter. I had heard as well the cries of dying men, as of those that caused them, among which I often distinguished the voice of Caesario, after I saw he had made himself Master of the Court, I lost sight of him when he mounted the great stairs, and I was painfully suffering the ignorance of what had befallen him there, when I heard the Soldiers cry out in several quarters of the Palace, that the Tyrant had saved himself.  
So soon as Caesario known Tyribasus was got into the City, he did not doubt but he would quickly raise a party besides his standing Militia that would outnumber the Soldiers he had with him, and from thence concluding his Forces incapable to resist him upon equal terms: after he had cleared the Palace by the death and defeat of all those that kept it, he caused the Gates to be shut, and set guards upon every passage, resolving to defend himself there, till the arrival of some supplies that he took but a few moments to range his men in the same order they were to observe for defence of the Horse, and when he had put every requisite in its due place, as well as that short time would permit him, he came to my Chamber, followed by his Governor Eteocles, and twenty or thirty Soldiers besides, I trembled in every part when I saw him come towards me covered with blood, and was utterly unable to bring forth one word, when throwing himself at my feet, and embracing my knees with an action wholly passionate, he stayed a little while in that posture, and then rising again from thence; Madam, said he, we have done but half our work, the Tyrant is not dead, but we are able to put your person beyond the reach of his power, he is now doubtless raising Forces in the City to come back and assault us; I cannot Madam, abandon those loyal Souls, whom I have engaged in this Enterprise for your service, without a baseness that I dare not be guilty of; and my honour enjoins me, since I have led them to this Labyrinth of danger, to run their fortune: but for you we have contrived a safe retreat, if your Majesty aproves it; I shall only lead you through the Garden, to a Vessel that waits there, by the banks of Nilus, which (fortified with a sufficient number of men) under the conduct of my Governor Eteocles and Telimachus, the faithfullest of all your Subjects, will carry you to the City of Bassa, which is totally at your devotion; it will cost you but six hours' time to go thither, where I hope to kiss your hands before to morrows Sun shall hide his head in the Western Ocean: besides, what I owe to my honour, and my friends, the consideration of your Interests will detain me here, whereby the succour of some additional numbers, whose coming up is expected every hour, I hope to determine all your affairs, and though the event of this design should fall short of what my expectations promise me, I shall still have left me an infallible way to preserve my life, and safely conduct myself before tomorrow night, to the City I named you.  
This was Caesario's proposition, which I combated with all the arguments could be raised from my indisposition to desert him in so manifest a danger, but he protested so solemnly that he had an assured means to slip the peril when he pleased, and save himself, and often falling at my feet, conjured me to grant his request with such undeniable reasons, as at last my aver● slow lost the victory; however I told him, that if I found him a deceiver in the promise he had made me to secure himself, he should carry the guilt of my death to the other world without my pardon. He lead me over a great number of dead bodies, that the slaughter had strewed about the Garden, from the sight of which I took much horror, and from thence to the bank of Nilus, where we found a boat guarded with three or four men, ready to receive us: I stepped into it with Eteocles and Telimachus, and a dozen of the Soldiers, which were all the boat could well contain, being only designed for our conduct to a greater Vessel, that waited our coming at the mouth of the River: Of all my Maids only Clitie and two of her Companions attended me, the rest had been driven by fear to hide themselves in several corners, so that we had not seen any of them since the first alarm, and of my officers there were only three or four that followed me; when I came to set my foot into the boat, and divide myself from my dear Cleomedon, I could not forbear to embrace him before so many witnesses, and when I gave him my last adieu, the tears started from my eyes in great abundance: Cleomedon, said I, be sure you remember my abode upon earth has the same date with yours, and that cannot lavishly neglect your own life, without a careless contempt of mine.  
Upon these words the boat went off from the bank, and immediately we heard a horrid noise in the Palace, from thence concluding, Tyribasus returned with forces from the City, had renewed the Combat: Gods! what excessive torture did I suffer from my timorous apprehensions, how lavish were my vows, and what costly sacrifices did I promise Heaven for Caesario's safety! Eteocles, who ever kept himself near me, strove with all the strength of his reason to tame the tempests of my inquietudes, and to lessen the credit of my fears, he assured me, that 15000 armed men, drawn from those Cities, that Caesario had secretly reconciled to their old obedience, would at break of day be ready to force the Gates of Meroe, and strike a considerable blow, for my service, and his Prince's safety.  
My knowledge that Eteocles was ever justly accounted precisely honest, should not let me refuse some faith to his words; in the mean time under the conduct of him and Telemachus (a person very eminent among the Aethiopians for birth and virtue) we gently glided down that arm of Nilus, till we arrived at the main channel where the Vessel waited us. The Nile brings up ships to that place, of as great a bulk and burden, as any that ride the Ocean. We found the Vessel manned with two hundred Soldiers, and going aboard about the birth of day, we followed the current with all the haste we could make, by the help of Oar and Canvas.  
It was no ordinary example of Caprichio, to see the lawful Queen to one of the greatest and most puissant Kingdoms in the world, exposed in one single bottom to the mercy of such men as she never knew, though besides Eteocles, they were all born my subjects; yet this condition, narrow as it was, to me was far sweeter, and more supportable, than to stay still in the power of Tyribasus, at a time when he was ready to abuse it in so barbarous a manner, by the violence he intended to my person; but Heavens! how remote was I to that Port of repose which I thought so near me! and how unfortunately did I break away from one danger to step into the jaws of another, that was far greater and more merciless! We had now two hours work to reach the City we bent at, which was seated about 10 or 12 furlongs from the bank of Nilus, when we deserved four ships of War very near us, that not only opposed our passage, but surrounded our Vessel on all sides, before we had time to think of a retreat, commanded us to throw down our Arms, and yield ourselves upon pain of death.  
Eteocles and Telemachus (both very stout and courageous) supposing those Ships were sent in pursuit of ours by Tyribasus, resolved to perish in defence of that dear pawn Caesario had trusted to their hands, and without regard to the number of their Enemies, began to repulse them very valiantly; their resistance procured their ruin, and those cruel men with whom we disputed our liberty, after a very obstinate and bloody contest, which cost the lives of many of their Companions, at last they overflowed us with an inundation of number, and boarding our vessel on every side, put all to the sword without distinction, the valiant Telemachus, whose fidelity deserved a better destiny, was killed with the first, all our Soldiers cut in pieces after him, only Eteocles still defended himself (being recoiled with his back against the top of the Deck) though with no other hope than to sell his life something dearer than the rest of his Companions, when animated with an extraordinary courage, and an eager desire to preserve a man, whose grand services had rendered him so dear to Caesario, I boldly stepped into that scene of danger, and demanded his life of him I took for the Captain of our Enemies.  
The barbarous Zenodorus, for so the Pirate was called, having cost his eyes upon my visage, and found something there that obliged him to accord me the life of Eteocles, called off his men from the Combat, and gave him his life just when the danger was ready to enrol him among Death's Captives; he presently took me out of that Vessel defiled with carcases and blood, and caused me to pass into another of his that was next it, with all the persons that were now left, which were only Eteocles and my three women.  
At these words Elisa regarding the Queen with a fixed eye; How Madam, said she, was it then by the Pirate Zenodorus you were taken; The very same replied Candace, and that famous Rober not content to make his depradations by Sea, was come up the Nilus very far into our Provinces, where he had taken some rich prizes, and rendered himself the most redoubled of all those that ever skimmed this Ocean; Alas! added the fair Elisa, what an infinite of tears has that Monster cost me? But Madam, pursued she, do not interrupt your discourse, you shall understand when my story comes to tread the Stage, by what sad mark I know the Pirate Zenodorus, and how near a conformity and alliance the hand of providence has made between our last adventure.  
You may judge Madam, continued the fair Queen, to what a lamentable condition I found myself reduced by this strange disaster, from the hands of an ambitious, and amorous man that I fled, I saw myself fallen into the power of a pitiless wretch, that knew neither Faith nor Honour, of a Barbarian known upon all the Sea by his cruelty; and in fine, of a Monster, from whom I could not expect less than all the inhumanities' I was capable of resenting: this horrid spectacle crimsoned with the vital blood of all my men, struck fresh Ideas of terror in my memory, and the presence of those Tigers that breathed nothing but murder and massacre, might well have wrought the same frightful effects upon any other spirit, though better fortified than mine to resist them; and indeed my courage was brought so low, as I let myself fall half dead upon the Deck when the consideration of this last calamity, almost set me a swimming in my own tears.  
Eteocles, though he had received some slight wounds in several places, kept himself near my person, and kneeling by me, supported my head upon his bosom, while Clitie with her two companions, were all fallen at my feet, and become partners of my woe, than it was that all my constancy forsook the Lists, I detested my unfortunate birth, and upbraided Heaven itself with the cruel series of my miseries, a thousand times did I call death to my rescue, and condemned my cowardice, that I did not first tender my throat to the steel of those Barbarians that butchered our Soldiers.  
The Pirates that had long been habituated to such spectacles of pity, melted no more than rocks at my desolation, but their Captain found some beauty in my face that a little softened his savage humours, and made him capable of some sentiments of humanity: at first my sorrow had his silent attention, and whether he was not yet moved enough to express any signs of Compassion, or thought those first excesses of my grief would strike me deaf to his discourse, he sat a pretty while upon a seat he had chosen, and saw my tears run from me without so much as offering to come nearer, but a little after he came towards me, and taking some time to contemplate my face before he spoke, and endeavouring to send away as much fierceness from his looks as possible: Fair Lady, said he, do not afflict thyself so exceedingly, thy beauty has found favour amongst us, and perhaps thou art not so unhappy as thou thinkest thyself.  
I was buried so deep in the consideration of my misery, as it would not let me have leisure to regard the Pirate's words that carried so little proportion to my dignity, and he received neither answer, nor so much as one single look, that could let him know he was understood. This gave him a belief that I had no skill in the Greek Tongue, in which he spoke, and therefore translating his words into the Aethiopan language; I tell thee, said he, with a look that had put on more mildness than before, you may cease your laments, and dimisse all your fears, since you are in a place where your beauty has given you much power. I knew not how to shape an answer to this discourse; but Eteocles, who was less troubled than I, and therefore had more judgement at the helm, perceiving my perplexity was willing to spare me the pains, and taking his eyes from my visage where they had been long fastened, to place them upon the Pirates. My Lord, said he, if you use these advantages you have gotten upon us with moderation, the Gods will be engaged to reward your generosity: This Lady whom you see is my Daughter, we were retiring into Egypt (whence we took our first Original) from the Civil Wars that troubled Aethiopia, when we fell into your hands, and if we receive such a treatment as our hopes encourage us to expect from your goodness, we are not of so base an extraction, nor yet so despoiled of Fortune's favours, but we may find a way to acknowledge your courtesy, and redeem our Liberties at a considerable ransom.  
Zenodorus smiled at Eteocles words, and regarding him with a disdainful look: For thy Ransom, said he, we shall talk at leisure, but for thy Daughters, thou wilt hardly find treasure enough to pay the price of her liberty.  
If I took some satisfaction from Eteocles words, wherein he had cunningly disguised my condition, I received no less displeasure at the Pirates, which presently taught me to divine a large part of that mischief that suddenly succeeded. Gods! what sad reflections did I then make upon the miseries of my life; what a languishing defect of courage did I feel to suppose the discovery of this approaching danger.  
The Pirate caused me to be taken from that place, and laid upon a bed, when seating himself at my bolster, he strove with his natural rudeness for the sweetest words he could find to comfort me, but he found me so unapt to resent his officious care, as judging, it would ask some time to compose my inquietudes, he released me to the advice of my pillow for the rest of that day: he was contented my Chamber should be free to myself, to Eteocles and my Maids, and when I saw myself alone, with only those confidents about me, I took a greater liberty than before to pour out my complaints and scan my deplorable condition.  
Eteocles endeavoured to deceive my sorrows, and charm their bitterest pangs with all the comfort thathis reason could urge, telling me that there was hope left that a ransom might procure my freedom of those persons, whose swords had only been drawn by a greediness of getting but an indispensible necessity of concealing my name and condition, for fear, when he knew me, the hope of a considerable gain, might oblige the Pirate to put me once more into the hands of Tyribasus. I saw much probability in Eteocles words, and striving to confirm the Pirates opinion, that I was his daughter, in his presence I ever paid him a filial respect, and to make the disguise sit surer, he always assumed some authority over me.  
In the mean time the Ships that carried us, as if the winds had become confederates with Fortune's malice, went away with an admirable diligence, and I saw myself still father recoil, not only from the hopes of liberty, but all possibility of seeing Caesario for a long time, nay probably my whole life, whom I had abandoned in so manifest a danger: the remembrance of him threw down all the fortifications my constancy could raise to resist my anguish, and when we had left the Nilus at our backs, and began to ride the open Ocean at the will of our Masters, who rejected all the propositions Eteocles had made them to sell us our liberties, I was ready to resign the remains of all my courage, and commit my miseries to the fatal cure of those waters, to which I had myself so lately condemned; but I than received a fresh addition to my grief, that displayed a greater horror in the face of my misfortune than ever, and the cruelty of my destiny desired it, that the perfidious Zenodorus should in effect resent something in my face which was capable to kindle his reflection, it was that taught him to misprise the offers of Eteocles, and poising the unbridled power he had over me, respect was too weak to resist the rudeness of his nature, and conceal his passion, yet he struggled with himself to polish his behaviour in my presence as much as possible, and aboarding me one day, with more humility in his mind than ordinary: Madam, said he, my losses do much outweigh my gains in this adventure, and you are not so much our prisoner by the right of arms, as I am yours by that invincible authority, your beauty exercises upon me, we have now changed our condition, and I feel myself reduced to implore your pity instead of that necessity your thoughts may create you of mine.  
These words assaulted my Soul with a very sensible displeasure, but by the moderation of my outward deportment, resolving to make the advice of Eteocles my lesson, for fear of exasperating that brutish spirit to extremities against me, I kept my indignation in a shorter chain, than I had otherwise done, had I simply followed the motives of my own disposition: Zenodorus, said I, it poses me to conceive how my beauty should keep any power in this Estate to which you have reduced me, since if it were true that it had produced such effects upon your spirit as you speak of, you would show the proofs of your affection in the restauration of my liberty, upon those conditions my Father has proposed, which would eternally oblige me to you, abate but our separation, replied the Pirate, and your desires cannot name another thing that shall meet my refusal; and indeed I did not think you could have demanded your liberty, in a place where you are not only free, but sovereign and absolute Mistress: I cannot conceive dearer testimonies of affection, answered I, than such as will empower me to do that of my own free choice, which you can only attribute to captivity and constraint.  
Zenodorus made me no other answer to these words, than a nod with his head, which was easy to be construed in a right sense; that he was far from condescending to what I requested.  
This was the first open discovery that he made me of his passion, but after he had broke the Ice, he plagued me with perpetual importunities; I forbore to treat him harshly, as much as possible, that I might still keep him in terms of respect, and put by those violences I had cause to fear from a man of his condition, but sometimes I could not so nicely observe the strict rules my caution had imposed, nor keep on the mask so cunningly, as not to betray my contempt of his person, with such a repugnance, as strangled all the hopes he had fostered.  
Ten or twelve days had added themselves to the age of time, before we returned to transpasse the bounds of modesty, he tells me, that though he might serve himself of all those advantages the right of arms had given him over me, yet he loved me with too much ardour and estimation to seek any other than the legitimate way of Marriage to enjoy me, then to entice me to this alliance, he would fall a displaying his puissance, and vantingly tell me, that he was not only the mightiest of all the Rovers that ranged those Seas, in the number of Ships that sailed in several Squadrons, under the command of him and his Lieutenants, but that the world had many Sovereign Princes (which if the competition were fairly decided) would prove his inferiors for strength and riches.  
I sometimes made semblance to lend attention and observance to his words, but I could not long belie myself, and if in some one day in my actions he found complaisance, he could not choose but mark my true born thoughts in a thousand others, which I had no power to dissemble. At last he peceived I had abused him, and that those flexures of Civility which all this time he had forced to swim against the stream of his natural rudeness, on purpose to gain my heart, had been laid out in vain; this discovery urged him to choose a more uneven path to his ends; and one day after he had wasted some hours in my company, perceiving his designs to advance but slowly: Madam, said he, since I see all my Civilities have been lost upon you, I have henceforth decreed it to seek some other means for my own satisfaction, I must now therefore tell you, that if you dispose not yourself to let me have it by frre vote of your own consent, you must resolve to see me struggle for it with more success than I have done formerly.  
He accompanied this first menace with divers others of the same mo●d, that almost struck me dead with apprehension, and after that day he began to treat me with an air more imperious and absolute, than ever his looks had put on before.  
Then did I see my sad condition wound up to the very extremes of misery, and I fearfully expected every moment when the Barbarians violence should assay to bereave me of that which was a thousand times dearer than my life, and had never been attacked in all my former misfortunes.  
So soon as I saw myself at liberty to talk with my maids, without being overheard by the Pirates: Come said I, my dear Companions in misery, 'tis time to think of dying, Fortune had not harassed us all this time with supportable calamities, but to observe a method in her mischiefs, and at last complete the tragedy she intended: this honour which we prise above our lives, is now ready to become a prey to Barbarians, if a generous resolution does not rescue it by the hand of death from the shame it prepared us; let us dispose ourselves to take this only antidote that is left to preserve it, and fear not to make use of Waters or Steel to void an ignominy, which is a thousand times worse than those tortures that carry the greatest horror.  
To these words succeeded many others that displayed the unquiet agitations of my spirit, and sometimes (though absent and remote as he was) addressing my speech to Caesario. Ah Son of Caesar, would I say, how welcome would thy succour arrive to silence the threats, and stop the mouth of this danger! how deeply mightest thou oblige me in neglecting the interests of my state, to run to the defence of my honour? but oh Gods! continued I, how vainly do I call thee to my assistance? possible thou art no more in the number of mankind, but hast rendered thy spirit under the arms of the treacherous Tyribasus, and the Gods have laid this punishment upon me with the hand of Justice, for leaving thee so cowardly in the mouth of a devouring danger for my interests.  
These words were succeeded with several actions of the same strain: but if my grief received a violent increase from this last intelligence of my fears, it quickckly mounted by large strides to a greater height when I saw the Pirate persevere in his design, and pass to the cruel execution of his menaces; from hour to hour he still became more fierce and terrible, and ceasing those entreaties, that were the first factors of his passion, he now discoursed it in a more imperious stile, deeply protesting, if I still refused to render the fort by treaty, he would take it by assault; this extremity provoked me to tear off my disguise and regarding him with an eye that spoke the spirit of anger. Barbarian, said I, thou mayst kill me if thou wilt, but thy threats shall never fright my consent to the least satisfaction of thy brutish appetite: No, no, replied the cruel Zenodorus, you shall not die: but since there is no other way to obtain my wishes, but by putting violence in the place of sweetness, my resolution is irrevocable; when the thing is done, I shall easily gain your pardon, since I shall only have your anger for taking that by conquest, which should have been mine by consent. Well wicked man, said I, this unjust power thou usurpest, is yet inferior to that which arms the hand of divinity and if thou continuest thy detestable intentions, believe it, the Gods will want no thunderbolts to crush thee. The impious wretch derided my hopes of divine assistance; and repeating his own wicked resolutions, backed with deep Oaths to confirm it, he swore I should have but three days more to resolve his contentment, and the next day to prove his words and intentions grew up from the same root, he licenced himself to take the liberties, which he had not presumed before, and after some obscene expressions which pudicity forbids me to mention, he would have ravished a kiss from my mouth, but at that rude attack, I forgot the weakness of my Sex, and furiously flew at his face with so much violence, as I left the characters there of my scorn and anger, in a deep impression. This provoked him to cashier all thoughts of patience, and desperately swearing he would no longer delay to execute the effects of my fears, he had already called for some of his men to pull my Maids out of the Chamber, when by a manifest succour from Heaven, which then armed itself in my defence, he heard the Pilot cry out there was a furious tempest coming.  
The terror he took from this alarm, put a sudden stop to his design, and running up upon the Deck to know the truth, he saw the enraging waves begin to raise a battery against his floating fortress, and Heaven prepare to pour its Artillery upon him with so black a defiance, as all those foul thoughts that lust had stirred, grew cold and did homage to the apprehensions of death, which hurried from a place, where his presence might animate his men, to employ all their force and industry against the choler of the winds. I may safely avow, that at that time the particular interest of my honour made me rejoice at the common calamity, and I scarce listened to the language of fear for my own, or the ruin of those about me, since (either by his death or mine) it promised me a rescue from the brutish fury of Zenodorus; this made me only appear with a tranquil and untroubled aspect amidst the disorder of all the rest, and when the natural horror of death had itself painted in its usual Palour upon the face of all the Pirates, mine (by report of those that saw me) still kept its ordinary colour and composure.  
The storm lasted two entire days with a great deal of violence: but as Zenodorus and his men had gained the skill from a large experience how to make use of all advantages when they wrestled with that angry Element, so they received not all the loss that would doubtless have befallen others less practised in that exercise; of four Vessels they lost but one, and after they had discharged the other three (to the Pirates grand regret) of such lading as was most weighty, they saved themselves from Shipwreck without dis-uniting; and when the storm had spent its greatest fury, they descried the Egyptian shore, with the stately walls of Alexandria.  
As yet none of them knew upon what climate the winds had tossed them; for though they were very near the shore, yet the night's arrival, which had already begun to blot the departing day with her purblind shades, would not suffer their eyes to take the objects with distinction.  
Zenodorus, though ignorant whether this Country held his Friends or Enemies, was yet unwilling to continue his course in that obscurity, before he had reaccommoded his shattered Vessels which drank water in divers places, and by other harms they had suffered from the Tempest, were then become incapable to maintain a farther Navigation, he therefore ordered his men to let fall their Anchors about a mile from the shore, & while every one plied their proper task for a part of the night, as his commands directed them, he came into my Chamber, where he had not been since the beginning of the Tempest. My blood rose at the sight of him, and not without too much reason, since he came with a black purpose, to employ all his last satisfaction, I presently discovered this foul design in his visage: and approaching to me with a face that confessed the stings of a furious lust: Madam, said he, 'tis now no time to keep your Consent in a longer suspense, and I come to quench the thirst of my desires, from which nothing can have power to divert me, the danger we lately escaped, for a time retarded the execution of my wishes, but I must now tell you, that all those which heaven has power to throw headlong upon me, shall not stop my passage to your enjoyment.  
These affrighting words struck a horror through me from head to foot, and wanted but little of snatching all that assurance from me, which necessity lays claim to in such an occasion; however in that extremity I called back my courage to the Combat, and judging the danger I should run, in being returned to the hands of Tyribasus, when the Pirate once knew my quality, could not insult so cruelly upon my fears, as that which now menaced me; I deemed it no longer requisite to hide a truth from Zenodorus, which in some probability might divert him from his villainous resolution; this concluded, regarding him with a borrowed boldness in my looks: Zenedorus, said I, consider well this wicked enterprise of thine, and remember that I tell thee, it is not the daughter of Eteocles thou would dishonour, but the Queen of the Aethiopians, who will all be obliged to hunt thee through the world, and write their revenge in thy ruin for the infamous violence thou offerest to their Princess.  
These words, which (in reason might promise their wicked effect) made not so much as the least dint in the Barbarians rocky heart, and whether he suspected it a fiction, or that the known truth (in the brutish transport that then possessed him) was neither capable, to change nor defer his design, he expressed no semblance of understanding what I said and in obedience to a sign he made them, his men seizing upon Eteocles and my Maids to drag them out of the Chamber, without farther delay he assaulted my honour with all the forces he could make; my Maids and Eteocles made a long resistance, with their loud cries striving to rouse the sleeping pity of Heaven, and suffering themselves to be dragged along upon the Earth, still catching at every thing they encountered, as if they rather desired to be drawn in pieces by those wild beasts than abandon their Mistress in that sad extremity; and I defended myself so stoutly against Zenodorus as his face (in divers places) quickly put on the bloody marks of my resistance: but at last our defence proved all too weak, my Servants reduced to that extremity, in spite of all their oppugnation, were ready to be forced from the chamber, and myself was now grown so weak and weary, as all my forces were ready to quit the lists, when the Gods sprang a sudden thought in my breast that saved me: I began to regard Zenodorus, whom I still held by the hair, with a milder eye, and shutting a part of my anger from view: Zenodorus, said I, you will reap but little satisfaction in rending that from me by violence, which you ought to seek by softer addresses, I feel must resign myself to your mercy, since all the strength the Gods have lent me is too weak to defend my honour, and I make you a promise, if you will but quietly allow me this night's repose, you shall find no farther repugnance in my will. Zenodorus stayed his rude hands at these words, and leaving me some leisure to take breath: Had you spoke in this manner, said he, before we came to those terms, I had granted more than you demand, nor will I now refuse this short time to your desires, but be sure you employ it so well to subdue your a version, as to morrow I may have nothing to combat. I confirmed the promise I had made him, and immediately after he commanded those that tormented my Servants, to set them at liberty, when taking his leave for the rest of the night, he and his men departed my Chamber.  
He was no sooner gone, but I barred the door, and turning towards Eteocles and my Women that lay weeping at my feet, Come come, said I, my dear Companions, no more of those fruitless tears, 'tis time to think of dying, I have tamely taken too many blows at the rude hands of Fortune, while the means to free myself from her cruelties were so out within my reach, I fooled myself with a hope that death would ever be ready at my beck, with an infallible cure for my miseries, when all other remedies had lost their virtue, but of late I sadly felt, that she cannot be always at my disposal, nor take every alarm to come in to my rescue; now we have her again at command, without farther delay let us lay hold of the succours she offers us, and stay no longer to see ourselves again reduced to call in vain for her assistance.  
My Maids, wholly feeble as they were, did not strive to bandy one single argument against my intentions, and Clitie (as she that had most courage, and indeed most affection) undertaking to speak for the rest: Let us die then Madam, said she, we are ready to wait upon you to the other world, yet should learn to think our lives much better spent, if by the shipwark of them we could see yours safe a shore.  
I tenderly embraced her and her two Companions at this generous proof of their affection, and no longer willing to keep my tears in hold: I can do no less than weep your destiny, said I, though I know you cannot but think it more pain to live at the mercy of these Pirates, than die with your Mistress in defence of your honour, which would infallibly run the same fortune with mine: Then turning towards Eteocles, who silently regarded me with a look in which grief and pity contested for the upper hand. Eteocles, said I, if you ever see Caesario again, pray tell him I preserved myself pure and spotless to my death, and do me the courtesy to carry him this message, that it was my last care to keep his name in my memory in my heart. No Madam, replied Eteocles, I shall never see Caesario more; and though I have ever tied my strongest passions to his sight and service, yet I know how to use, as I ought, the honour he has done me in committing you to my custody and conduct: Let us die then Madam, since the Gods will have it so, I dare not counsel you to buy your life at the price is demanded, and I know well enough how to die with you, since I cannot pay back that sacred pawn to my Prince he unluckily trusted to my hands.  
I did not much strain for argument to combat the resolution of Eteocles, but began to join my invention with his how to find out the promptest and most commodious way to die, they had left nothing in the chamber that was fit to do the seat, only the windows were so wide as we might throw ourselves through them into the Sea, and that was the way we made choice of, to apply the fatal relief to our miseries; but before we were to act this last Scene, I felt a natural reluctance start some thoughts of revenge in my soul against those cursed miscreants, whose cruelty had led us to the brink of that Precipice; and knowing Zenodorus chamber was near to mine, I took a fancy that in putting fire to some combustible thing in my lodging, it might probably cause him and his detestable instruments to run some hazard of their lives; at its first conception I imparted this thought to Eteocles, who taking some time to scan it before he would render his opinion: Madam, said he at last, I approve your design; for beside that it suits with the just hatred we owe to the humane wretches, it may direct us a way to free ourselves with the greater facility from their impious hands: we may easily set fire on our bed with the candle which will quickly distribute flames to all parts of the vessel, and by the courtesy of this disorder, which will doubtless surprise the Guards with fear and amazement, with the help of a sheet I intent to tie to the Window, you will have leisure enough to get down to the water, and seat yourself upon some of those loose planks I see in your chamber, where possible the Gods placed them on purpose for your deliverance: I am sure they are strong enough to bear your weight upon the water, and I intent to swim behind you, and drive it towards the shore with all the forces I can raise; if my eye has not cozened me we are not far from thence, and who knows but Heaven may stretch out an extraordinary arm to succour you, and double my strength to that measure, as you may find it a safe Convoy to the firmer Element?  
I was contented to give this proposition the hearing, though I scarce descried the apparition of a hope to disprove the threats of that imminent danger, however I could not resist his entreaty to try the course he had contrived, nor refuse the resignation of myself to his Conduct, at a time when I thought it impossible for fate itself to reprieve me.  
The fear least time should betray our plot and us, to a sudden surprisal, made us hasten the execution; and Eteocles presently fastened the sheet to the window, and with two planks he designed for our safety, let himself gently slide downwards, till he came at the water; when I thought he was got down, I resolved to follow him: but before I quitted the Ship, with the Candles that were in my Chamber, I set fire to the Bed in several places, which consisting of a matter that was greedy of flame, dispersed it in a moment through all the vessel: I no sooner saw it was fully lighted, but catching hold of the sheet, I nimbly threw myself out at the window, and was presently followed the same way by Clitie. Eteocles catched me in his arms, and giving me fast hold at the end of the planks, received Clitie that was newly descended in the same manner, & swimming round about us, securely placed us together upon our floating seat; he would have rendered the fame office to my two other Maids, but whether the flame (that had already begun to devour the vessel) had affrighted their feminine hearts, the smoke stifled them, or possible the circumspection of his care for my safety, had slackened his regard of theirs, we saw them no more, and I am still ignorant, whether they remained in the power of the Pirates, or perished by fire and water.  
Eteocles guiding his Eye and Voice by the light of the inflamed vessel towards the Chamber, had often called them to come away: but when he saw his pains were lost, he reconverted his care upon me, and swimming behind our plank, drove it forward so strongly, as in a short time we had left a large distance between us and the burning vessel.  
In the posture I used to secure my hold upon the plank, I was up to the shoulders in water, and though the heat of the season did us the service, so to moderate the rigours of the liquid Element, as we scarce felt any cold, and my Garments assisted me to bear myself up with the greater ease in the water; yet death in all appearance was so ready to strike the blow, as if the miseries of my life had not lessened my desires to preserve it, I think that hideous image of ruin would have needed no other weapon than mine own apprehension to dispatch me.  
Candace was arrived at this part of her story when the fair Princess, who had heard it with a serious attention, could not choose but interrupt her; Ah Madam, said she, what is it you tell me? is it possible such a Princess as yourself should be led to the extremes of so deep a misfortune, and the Gods should submit one of the most accomplished, and the greatest Queens upon Earth to Perils and Calamities of this Nature?  
Candace modestly replied to these words, and resuming her narration, she recounted how nobly she had been succoured by Tyridates, whose name she yet forbore to mention, cautious of betraying a Princes secret, whose generosity had so much obliged her: the continuance of her story leads her from the shore of Alexandria to the house of her preserver, succeeds in sequel to her meeting the Prince of Mauritania, his Combat with the stranger that pursued Zenodorus, the arrival and her discovery of Caesario, her second surprisal by the Pirate; and in fine, all that had arrived her, since she entered Alexandria, and accepted the Praetor's invitation and entertainment in the Palace.  
At this period of her story, the Parthian Princess, after she had witnessed by many sweet expresses of affection, how sensibly she felt the blows of Candace's fortune in the bare recital. Madam, said she, as much work as my thoughts have at home, in toiling themselves upon my own disasters, my tender resentments of yours has called them away from their proper task, and while your language gave me the lively draught of those perils and afflictions you so oft encountered, I sighed and trembled, as if I had been presently condemned to react them in my own person; but Gods! though our mishaps do carry a resemblance in some particulars, how vastly different is my destiny to yours? how is the tempest of your woes allayed with Comfort, while my hopes are split upon a merciless rock? you may (and possible with less difficulty than your incredulous fears can allow it) recover that Crown Usurpation has ravished; the Prince you love is living too, living beyond the reach of that danger you dreaded, and you seek one another with a probable success in the same Country; but pitiless Heavens you called away the Darling of my Soul from the World, and it is not permitted me to doubt a misfortune, for which the Gods have not left one single remedy.  
The fair Elisa bathed these last words in a brook of tears, and the Queen, who was tenderly touched at the tender melting Rhetoric of grief, joining her check to one of hers; Come come, my lovely Princess, said she, let me persuade you to collect some comfort from my Example, do but seriously examine those dangers in your thoughts, that Caesario and I have escaped, and they will tell you the Gods have not put the power out of their hands, to restore you your losses, in saving that person you deplore: he cannot be more dead in your opinion, than Caesario was formerly in mine; and the same Heavens that gave him me again, when I thought they had placed him among the Stars, may have such another favour in store for you, if you calmly wait it from their bounties. Alas! replied Elisa, how little reason have I to expect the kindness of such a miracle? No Madam, when I shall once have guided your attention, through the labyrinth of my miserable life, I cannot doubt but your judgement will tell you, that I have taken the opinion of my own incurable calamity from such clear appearances as are stamped with an impossibility of deceiving. To morrow, if you please, Madam, I will give the copy of my misfortunes, for after these deep engagements to your generous compassion, I have neither grief nor weakness that can oblige me to hide them longer from you.  
Candace retorted these civilities with a comparative affection, and they had longer continued this exchange of kindness, if the Days departure had not closed the Dialogue, and the conscience Candace made of Eliza's indisposition had not hastened the Goodnight; but they parted with a mutual promise to meet again the next morning, and not to suffer a separation by a larger distance of time, so long as they might be permitted to enjoy each other.   

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA: OR, Love's Masterpiece. PART III.  
LIB. III.  
ARGUMENT.  
The Princess Elisa repays Candace with the History of her life. The varieties of good and bad success, that befell Phraates in the Median War. He is twice beaten in the Field by Artaban his Enemy's General, and his Queen and daughter both taken in a City upon the frontiers: left there till he returned with new Levies. Artaban falls in love with his fair Captive, and obtains permission of his Master to set them both at liberty. Tigranes' enforced by affection to countermand his grant, is deserted by Artaban, who revolts to the Parthian party. Phraates makes him General of his Army, and he marches in the head of it against Tigranes.  
THE fair Queen of Aethiopia passed that night with some comfort, drawn from those hopes she had to recover her beloved Caesario, though her apprehension (after having seen his safety at the stake in so dangerous a Combat, whence she knew he could not scape without wounds) raised some rational arguments to disquiet her repose. But when her memory represented the desperate extremes, whereto the unbridled violence of Zenodorus had a few days since reduced her, and the fears that fed upon her quiet, since she left him involved at Meroe in that manifest danger, the over blowing of those black clouds could not choose but show her a very favourable change in her condition, and taught her for a time to sit quietly down with her other losses, since she had expelled the weightiest mischiefs from the scale of her fortunes.  
The next day, so soon as she was dressed, she sent a visit to the fair Princess of Parthia: but while she stayed in expectation of an answer, she saw the bright Elisa was come herself to deliver it, and in such a posture as proved all her griefs too weak to dim the lustre of her admirable beauty. Candace ran to meet her with open arms, and these two beauteous Princesses exchanged their kind inquiries of each others health, with a parallel of grace and Majesty; but they had not worn out many minutes in their first entertainment, when Cornelius Gallus entered the Chamber to bid them good-morrow; they both received him with a great deal of Civility, and that man prepossessed as he was already, with the excellencies of one, could not so shut his eyes upon the beauties of the other, as not equally to divide his Elegy betwixt them, in very passionate language: he dined that day in their Company, and after their request, retired to execute some important orders he had received from Augustus: the two Ladies gladly welcomed that occasion, to pass away the rest of that day together without interruption, and Candace pressed with an impatient desire to learn Elisa's adventures, could no longer keep her curiosity speechless, but willing to wake the remembrance of her promise: I may probably forfeit my discretion, said she, by desiring to put you to the pain of a relation, in an estate so little capable to perform it: but the passion I preserve for your interests, I hope may justify my importunity, especially since you may safely claim the same liberty to refuse the trouble, as I have done to demand it. I know no possibility, replied Elisa, of being importuned by any employment that may divertise you, and my inclinations have already voted me yours, with too true a passion to estrange the particulars of my life any longer from your knowledge.  
At these words they seated themselves by the Bed's side, and the Princess perceiving there were none in the Chamber but her two women and Clitie, after she had set one of them Sentinel at the door, with the same caution was used the day before, to prevent visits, she thus began her discourse.  

The History of the Princess Elisa.  
INgratitude and Cruelty are the blackest of all vices, and so soon as the Soul of a Prince has once taken their indelible stains, all that he had before of great and good, is put to flight by that strong poison which entirely seizes his inclinations, and scarce leaves him any shade or trace of virtue. The former is oft the Child of that Pride, which is the tumour of prosperity; and if the latter does not rise from a root in our nature, it often springs from the womb of an irregular ambition, which usurping the throne of the will, excites all thoughts that are the legitimate race of Reason, and shuts the eyes of those that are possessed with this Devil, upon every consideration, that Piety, Justice, and Honour itself can represent to their intoxicated judgement: the proofs of the truth are but too conspicuous in our Family, and if I derive some glory from a birth that has few equals in the world, I have received shame enough from the cruelties of him that gave it, to convince me, that he has left me no cause to boast my extraction.  
The King Phraates my Father, was born with qualities great enough, and in the first bloomings of his youth, and given such hopes of his future bravery, as made him pass in the opinion of men for an equal to his generous brother, the Prince Pacorus, who fell in the flower of his age, under the Roman arms, after he had made them know by divers memorable advantages, that they were not invincible.  
The old King Orodes my Grandfather, after the death of Pacorus, ignorant of his destiny, had transplanted his chief affection upon Phraates (than the eldest of divers Brothers) and with it resigned the entire management of all State-affairs to his disposal; he had been married some years before, and I had already lived about six or seven, when his greedy desire to Reign alone, and remove that fear of a Rival in ambition, transported him to that horrible piece of cruelty; which report has told to the whole world; you know it but too well, Madam, that the cruel Phraates, to make the Crown sit fast, which his bloody jealousy told him did but tremble upon his head, while so many of his Brothers lived, put them all to death; only Tyridates the youngest, then absent from court, who being spared by the mistaken piety of him that was sent to be his assassin, has since wandered from Court to court begging sanctuary against the inhuman persecutions of his Brother.  
The Queen who had received this truth from the mouth of Tyridates, was yet resolved not to trouble the stream of her relation by interposing what she knew, and deeming it requisite to keep the news of her Uncle, till the closure of her story, and then impart or reserve it as discretion counselled, she lent a silent attention to the sequel.  
The cruelty of Phraates pursued Elisa, could not so quench its thirst with the blood of his Brothers, but the old King Orodes (whose long life seemed to tyre the expectation of his heir) completed the Sacrifice to his jealous ambition, and lost it by the horrid command of his own Son; I confess I am willing to contract the relation of this unnatural act, in as few words as will barely serve to tell it, and indeed could be content to leave it entirely out, if my design to draw you the perfect portraiture of my life could allow it.  
Phraates having thus secured his Throne, by hewing down the stock with all the royal branches that grew near it, began to play the Prudent, as well as the Parricide to preserve his acquest; the terror of his arms made a quick distribution of its self among his Neighbour Princes, and the bad success of Anthony, who with a part of the Roman puissance brought the War into our Country, where he lost his whole Army, and with much ado saved himself by a shameful retreat, struck a general fear through all those that probably might nurse any thoughts of attempting the Crown of Parthia.  
In the mean time I was trained up by the Queen my Mother, whose inclinations were ever sweet and virtuous, with a very discreet care; and that good Princess perceiving docility enough in my Spirit, forgot not to season my education with all other sage lessons, that might frame me a disposition suitable to her intentions; her affections told her that I had not played the truant in the School of Virtue, and by the help of that blindness, which is the usual disease of a Parents indulgence, fancying some qualities within me, which I dare not pretend to, in me she stored up all her love, all her delight.  
After me that was the Eldest of all her Children, she had divers others of both sexes; but the Gods (perhaps to punish Phraates by the misfortunes of his Father's family) cut them all off in the dawning of their infancy, and of five or six Brothers that succeeded me at several births, scarce one of them attained to a full years age, before they were laid in their little Sepulchers.  
This mishap of our house rendered me more considerable, and a short time after the Queen, though still in the flower of her age, going over childbearing, I was regarded by the Parthians as the presumptive Inheritrix of that weighty Crown: 'Tis true, the King had a Bastard Son, that was called Vonones, but he did not behold him with an eye that designed his succession; and though he failed not to endeavour the gaining of a faction that might prop his pretences, he was generally known to be born within the Marriage of the King, and could therefore hatch no apparent hope of being declared legitimate.  
I will not trifle with your patience so much to give you the account of my Infancy, but stepping over the Prologue of my life, wherein there befell me nothing memorable, I shall only tell you I had worn out fourteen years of it, when my Father invaded Media: the hatred had been long hereditary betwixt the Kings of that Country, and those that wore the Crown of Parthia: and though they had taken breath in some intervals of Peace, since the fall of the unfortunate Anthony, and the coming of Augustus to the Empire, they were still ready to obey the beck of every trivial occasion to pick a new quarrel, which they both embraced with their old animosity.  
Phraates complained that at the Median King's solicitation, Cleopatra had murdered his Ally, the King of Armenia; and though he that did it was since dead, and his Heir succeeded to the Throne, he thought he might justly entail his revenge upon the Son, since Fate would not suffer the Father to stand the shock of it, and the new King of Media not less eager than he to revive the quarrel, whereto his young courage was whetted, by divers reasons on his side, there broke out a cruel and bloody War betwixt them.  
The beginnings were very doubtful, much blood spilt on both sides in divers Encounters, and some Battles, wherein Fortune seemed to stand in a study on which side she should list her smiles. At length after a years uncertainty, wherein she had kept the balance equal, she apparently leaned to the Parthian party, and the King my Father swollen with some late successes, began to advance towards the heart of Media, carrying ruin and desolation to all places where he waved his Ensigns; divers blows had been given to his advantage, the whole frontier sacked and devasted by his Army, and several places with their unfortunate Inhabitants, were made either Carcases or Cinders by his Fire and Sword.  
In fine, the affairs of Media were reduced to a very drooping condition, and Phraates hotly pursuing his Fortune, especially after the gaining one signal Victory (almost in the bosom of their Country) did now more than hope to lay them as low as the hand of an entire ruin could throw them.  
But at that time the King of Media having taken some wounds in the last Fight, was forced to retire, with little hope of repairing his broken fortunes, to his Capital City, and leave the Command of his shattered Army to a young Captain called Artaban, who (if the common report may be trusted) from an obscure birth, in a few years, by the conduct of his proper virtue, was risen to the tallest dignities, and by that time the down appeared upon his chin, had acquired a high reputation among the Medians.  
By this change of a Commander, Fortune revolted to the other side, and Artaban ramassing some Troops with a marvellous diligence that were raised to reinforce his Army, and having weakened that of the Parthians, by several surprises and divers Combats upon parties, wherein he always carried the advantage, in a short time he found himself able to offer Phraates Battle, who but a little before had made himself believe the Medians would never recover strength, nor courage enough to give him another meeting in the Field.  
Phraates, misprising those Enemies he had so often beaten, and now not fearing to draw a blank in the Lottery of War, (especially since his opposers Army was commanded by a young man without a name in War, which he had so frequently vanquished, when their own King lead them on in person) marched to the Battle, as to a certain victory: but the event confuted his confidence, and that young Captain, whose resistance he had so lately despised, disputed the victory so luckily, or rather (as they reported that saw his behaviour in the functions of his Charge) with so much gallantry of person, and prudence of Conduct, as after he had bravely tugged with many glorious dangers and difficulties, at last he broke the Parthian Ranks, killed a great number upon the place, and put the rest to a total rout.  
My want of skill in the art Military, has obliged me to shrink this relation to so narrow a Continent; for should I adventure to discourse the particulars, 'twere to engage in a Labyrinth without a Clue.  
Phraates thus beaten to the opinion that he was not invincible, began to consult his Interest with more circumspection, and rallying his scattered forces, and remanding those to his Army he had left upon the Frontiers, he put himself again in a condition to make good his stake, and throw the dice once more in a second battle.  
He had no more time for this preparation, than Necessity exacted; and his gallant Enemy hotly spurring on his victory, appeared a few days after within view of his Camp: Phraates by this time had perfectly unlearned the contempt of his young opposer, and with a preciser caution studied all the probabilities that might direct his aim to the event of the second Combat. He might have made use of some local advantages, had he pleased to defer the battle; but his judgement scanning the difference of retreat, told him there was more fear that his Parthians would run upon his Enemy's ground, than his owns besides, his heart was too great to refuse the encounter of an Army that did not outnumber his, which consisted of a people that he had formerly so often beaten, and so little redoubted.  
The Battle was fought with a great deal of cruelty and bloodshed, and the victory obstinately disputed on both sides, but at last she declared for the Medes; the Parthians were defeated with a far greater loss than before, and the King himself very thinly attended, had much ado to make good his personal retreat to a place of safety.  
This unlucky blow unravelled all his former success, and recoiled the progress he had made in Media, which he was now forced to abandon in a disordered haste, for fear the active Enemy should get before him, and cut off his retreat, by blocking up the passages to his own Kingdom.  
Of the numerous Army that followed him into Media, he brought home but a very pitiful remainder, and by this sudden vicissitude might easily discern the injustice of that pride which the timpanous womb of prosperity discloses.  
When he invaded Media, he had left my Mother and me in a City upon our Frontier, the strongest of all the Kingdom, and there it was we received him with all the regret that was due to the said success of his affairs; but his stay there was not long, and finding necessity press his sudden retreat to the heart of his Kingdom, as well to make new Levies there, as prevent the palpitation of such disorders, as might either be stirred (now Fortune wrinkled her brow) by the secret intelligence of his Enemies, or the infidelity of his own Subjects, he left us in that City, and with us the greatest part of those Forces that remained of his last defeat for our guard.  
The reason that we marched not with him, was deduced from his hope of a sudden return with a fresh Army, and the opinion he had that his Enemies were too much enfeebled in the last battle, (wherein they did not buy their advantage at a cheaper rate, than the loss of a great many men) to be either in Case or Courage to invade his Territories; but that thought deceived him, and he had marched but a few days from us, when the victorious Artaban, strengthened with some Troops the King his Master had sent him, appeared upon the Frontier, and brought a fear into the hearts of our Parthians, who had already learned from his last actions, to listen to his name with terror.  
We had yet time enough to retire, but the Queen my Mother, a Princess of a great heart, trusting to the strength of the City, and the number of the men that defended it, thought she might do the King a considerable Service, by staying upon the Frontier where her presence might preserve an untainted fidelity in the Parthians breasts, whom the fear of our Enemies, and the change of our Fortune might probably fright into disloyalty. This consideration made us stay the coming up of the Medes, who a few days after showed themselves at our Gates, and took away the hope of retreat, when we began to desire it.  
There passed many memorable actions in that Siege, which my ignorance in the trade of War condemns to silence, and the Parthians, whose courage took a kneener edge from the presence of the Queen and Princess than ordinary, behaved themselves in their defence with an uncommon bravery.  
The King too late repenting his inconsiderate desertion of us to the mercy of that stranger, bestirred his industry to send us a timely succour, as well as the diligence of his active Enemy would permit him; but the narrow time they allowed him to perform it, enforced the loss of all his endeavours, and those weak supplies he sent to our rescue being cut in pieces, Artaban, after he had often summoned the City in vain, resolved upon a general assault, the Queen my Mother perceiving her own liberty, and probably a large part of her Husband's Dominions, depended upon the preservation of that place, appeared in person at all the Posts of the City, exhorting the Commanders, Soldiers, and Inhabitants to fight in defence of their lives and liberties, with all the moving language wherewith her proper interest linked with the Kings could inspire her; by her command I stayed behind in the lodging, where half dead with fear, I expected the event of that threatening storm, which indeed split our hopes upon a Rock; for though the City was courageously defended, yet it was far more gallantly assaulted, and from the top of a Tower, where I was got up, to see how the trial for my Liberty was like to be decided at the bar of Fortune, with my own eyes I saw the Enemy's General, with his Sword in his hand first mount our walls, and by his brave example, inviting those he led on to follow him, the Courtine was quickly covered with his men, and himself become absolute Master, with the City, of our Lives and Liberties.  
At the first noise of this disaster, the Queen came to me, and endeavouring to moderate my fears, as well as the disorder that had then a little dazzled her own courage, would suffer her, after she had lent an ear to that horrid noise that ran round her lodging, composed of such lamentable cries and shrieks as usually echo in the streets of stormed Cities, where cruelty and disorder reign with unbridled Licence, she sent divers of her servants successively to the Enemy's General, with her entreaty to use his Victory with a milder temper, spare the blood of many innocent persons that begged their lives by her intercession, desiring they might hold them of his clemency; the first of these Messengers perished by the indistinguishing swords of our Enemies, but some of those that followed, proving so lucky to reach the General's presence, and deliver their humble Embassy, found him ready to accord more than they demanded.  
He presently dispatched his Orders through all the quarters of the City to cease the slaughter, and sent back the Queen's Messengers with two of his principal Officers, to assure us in his behalf, that we might safely dismiss our fears, and expect to be treated with all the respect that was due to our condition.  
These two Officers in obeisance to their General's Order, stayed to guard us from the Soldier's insolence, and we found their authority so prevalent, as the common people of their Army did not attempt so much as to peep within our lodging.  
Artaban carried so great a sway among the Medes, as after he had tugged with some petty difficulties, to lay the Daemon of their fury, he subdued them to a perfect obedience, and quietly retreated their precipitate ardour from the spoil and pillage; but it cost him a large part of the day in reducing all those disordes to the form he intended, and we passed away the same time in such a condition as your thoughts might easily figure.  
By a sudden revolution of our Fortune, we saw ourselves Prisoners to a barbarous people, whose inclinations taught us to apprehend all that might shake the stoutest courages; and though the courtesy of our Vanquisher had already overcome the fear of our lives, Captivity drags other miseries along with her, that are so hardly supported by persons of our condition, as we would make no reflection, levelly no glance at our wretched estate, that enforced not our Souls to shrink under the oppression of too just grief.  
I wept excessively upon the bosom of my indulgent Mother, who keeping more constancy and courage at the helm, endeavoured to dry up my tears, and strive with all the strength of her reason, to give me comfort at the same time, when herself so sadly needed it.  
Thus we passed away that whole day, and the following night, without finding any change in the order and ceremony that was usually observed in our service, without so much as descrying the least action, or overhearing one syllable that signified the loss of our liberty.  
Before the Queen went to bed, there came one from the General, to demand her permission for his Master to come and wait upon her on the morrow, not daring to assume that liberty the same day, in so unbeseeming a condition to appear in her presence, nor willing before he knew whether she would suffer the visit of a person, whom the due obedience to the King his Master had enforced to disoblige her.  
The Queen gathered a propitious Augury from the continuation of her Enemy's civilities, and not willing to abuse them, she returned him this answer, that he might come and see her when he pleased, who would be ready to receive his visit, as a worthy successor of those preceding bounties, that he had much more obliged, than all the proofs and effects of his incomparaple valour (which carried their own justification along with them) could offend her.  
The next day so soon as we were dressed, after a second message from Artaban; that enquired if the Queen might be then seen without importunity, he entered the Chamber, where I than attended my mother, followed by the principal Commanders in his Army, for whom he had begged the same permission to see us.  
In that abasement of our Fortune, I appeared with a negligence of dress and gesture, that basely suffered me to regard that man, as the fruit of his virtue obliged me; but so soon as I reached him with my eye, at the same moment I felt myself engaged to a more particular attention.  
Madam, I may safely say that I never had seen any thing till then, nor indeed ever since that could boast a parity to him in the meanest part; and I confess at the first view my expectation was so strangely deceived as I looked like a Statue, with a face the perfect picture of surprisal and confusion; his visage and port showed the evidence of something so great and noble, as in spite of the malicious noise that ran about the world of his obscure birth, I could not consider him at a less rate, than if his Temples had been impaled with a regal Diadem: he was then without arms, and his head uncovered, which gave me the greater licence to remark, as well the sparkling vivacity in his eyes, the perfect proportion and kindred of all the featues in his visage; his complexion was neither white nor brown, and his hair neither fair nor black, (but of a colour composed of both) fell in long rings of Nature's curling upon his shoulders, with a marvellous decorum; in all the regards and lineaments of his face, there appeared a natural fierceness, which though he then endeavoured in our presence to keep withen a cover of respect, yet he could not hide it so handsomely, but we saw something through those stoop of his spirit that spoke him born to command others, born to disesteem the whole world, and think it held none fit to be his Rival in glory: his stature was tall, but shaped to a perfect harmony, his gesture noble, every action becoming, and all majestic.  
With these advantages of person that at first blush surprised our respect, he approached the Queen, and putting one knee to the ground, with all the submissions she could hope, not only from her Conqueror, but the meanest of her Subjects, he kissed the lowest part of her Garment; he accosted me in the same manner: though we both opposed that excess of humility, when rising from his knee, and adressing his words to the Queen with an in comparable grace:  
Madam, said be, If I were not before a great Queen, and a wise mistress, that exactly knows the duty of a servant, I would strive to excuse what fidelity has enforced me to do against your subjects, and against a City made sacred by your presence, in obedience to the express orders of a Royal Master, that has honoured me with employment above my merit; but since your Majesty is so well acquainted with the reasons that plead my Justification, I have learned to hope that you will reject the offer of those respects that are due from a man, whom Fortune has compelled to disoblige you, and whom a just knowledge of what your quality has right to, readily disposes to render you all the services you can challenge from the most zealous, and the faithfullest of your own Subjects. Madam, I should believe myself infinitely happy in a power to make you fairer offers; but since your own knowledge tells you, how far that way I may justly reach my endeavours, be pleased Madam, to bestow some Faith upon the protestation I make you, to employ all the credit my services have given me in my Master's breast, to reconcile you to your Fortune, he knows very well what is due to your person and dignity, and shall find us all so ready to second him in his design to clear that score, as in a short time I hope you will find it no easy task to discern those you now hold for Enemies, from others that Heaven obliged to a natural subjection, by being born within the limits of your Dominion.  
Artaban spoke in this manner, but with a fashion so noble and so agreeable, as the Queen, while his discourse lasted, absented for some moments her misfortunes from her memory, that she might lend him a more untroubled attention; but when she saw him arrived at a period, and silently stand in expectation of her answer, making a fresh assault upon her grief to receive his civilities becomingly: Geneous warrior, said she, you cannot think it strange, if we have taken some sad apprehensions from an accident so rarely exampled by persons of our extraction, to pass from a Throne to a Prison without reluctance especially in those of our Sex, that are better acquainted with the effects of Faith than Courage, were to forfeit the very faculty of resenting, yet truth obliges me to tell you, that the knowledge we have of your virtue, has already drawn the sharpest sting from our miseries, and if your Master be truly worthy of so brave a Servant, I think we shall have little reason to afflict ourselves, or fall out with Fortune for this disgrace. Sir, upon the entire confidence, justly reposed in your gallantry, I resign my daughter and myself into your hands, in a firm belief you will still treat us with the same generosity, which your experience has already tasted. Since your admirable valour did not add more beams to the beauty of your glory, by defeating our Troops, than your courtesy may reap in the temperate use of your victory.  
This was the Queen's answer, to which Artaban replied with a great deal of respect, and contenting himself to repeat his offers, he deemed it not sit at the first time to take the liberty of engaging in a longer discourse, and after he had made me some protestations little different from those the Queen had received, with a grace that gave me a marvellous esteem of his person, he left the Chamber, not without civilly ask my Mother's consent, that he might have leave to frequent her presence at such times, when the tender of his respects would not incommode her.  
I cannot but avow that the garb and aspect of that great man did much surprise me, and my eyes read him over in so advantageous a Character, as I thought the world scarce able to show his parallel; nor did the Queen's opinion fall much short of mine, and he was no sooner gone from us when she fell upon his praises, speaking all to his applauses that Truth and Gratitude enjoined her, and a thousand times wishing, that the King my Father could purchase such a Servant, with a part of his dominions; but if we were well pleased at his first visit, he took the hint of every opportunity in those that followed to heighten our content, and started no occasion that he did not embrace with a perfect satisfaction to oblige us.  
He had resided but a few days in the City, when he received intelligence, that the King my Father had sent an Army against him, under the conduct of Vologeses, and disdaining to give his Enemy time to come up and brave him in his trenches, he drew out his Forces, and went to meet him.  
But why should I train my discourse to an unnecessary length? Artaban, after he had taken his leave of the Queen and me for a few days, quitted the City, where he left a strong Garrison, marched towards Vologeses, presented him battle, and fought it so advantageously for his, and unluckily for the Parthian party, as Vologeses with 20000 of his men, were slain upon the place, and the rest saved themselves with much ado, in some neighbouring Woods and Mountains that favoured their flight.  
This last blow staggered the Parthian Empire, and had not Artaban's design been opposed by the sharpness of the season, and weakness of his Forces, enfeebled with so many Combats, he might have marched, without resistance to the Capital City of that Kingdom, which the noise of his Fortune had filled with a panic terror; but then in too weak a condition to pursue his Victory, the Winter's rigour, that already began to distress his Army, and his Master's orders, who was unwilling he should engage further, before he received some supplies he intended to send him, obliged his return to the City where he left us.  
Never did man bring back a modesty comparable to his, from so great a victory; he gave us an account of what had passed, with abundance of affliction in his looks, and excused the mischiefs his honour had enforced him to do us, in such winning language as we found it impossible to hate him.  
A few days after I began to perceive he regarded me with an eye no longer indifferent, his words were ranged with more care and less confidence than before, and in all his actions he essayed to bespeak me an opinion, that the world could not offer him an employment which was not less important and considerable in his thoughts, than the pettiest occasion to serve and please me: had I commented upon this carriage of his with interest, my conjectures could not have miss the mark he aimed at, but as I was then young, and my spirit untrained to those discoveries, and my thoughts prepossessed with the sense of our Captivity, in which (though sweetened with his civilities) I could not choose but taste the restraint, I did not levelly my regards at a man so vastly below me, to tie any particular remark upon his behaviour, which in all probability would have made me fly his conversation.  
One day he came into the Queen's Chamber, and entertaining me, while my Mother was busied about some dispatches she was to send to the King (for that liberty was allowed her) after the exchange of some other discourse that begun the Dialogue. Madam, said she, you would have great cause to hate me, if I did not strive with all the strength of industry to remove it, and to the prejudice of what (my honour excepted) is the dearest thing in the world to my wishes, I did not endeavour to give you some service, which you could never receive by the single suffrage of my will, if that precious liberty, which for my misfortune more than yours, our success in war has ravished from you, depended upon my resignation, it would not remain so long in another's custody, as that— He stopped short at these words, and confessed by a change of a look a confusion in his thoughts, which I was then too innocent to observe, (though I had better intelligence from some reflections since upon that passage) and after some moments of silence, recovering his speech, I say Madam, pursued he, had it been in my power to finish this restraint of yours, that throws me at the feet of your mercy for a gentle construction, the very same day I was so unlucky to begin it, you should not now regard me, as the man that has done you the rudest injury, but as he that would gladly sprinkle the purest blood about his heart, upon your Altar, to expiate his crime. It is my misfortune, that I cannot crave that liberty to myself, without deceiving a Master, to whom I owe all, and betraying the trust he has deposited in me, beyond the just claim of my deserts; nor would those Forces, that obey me by his order, do less than openly oppose a design of that nature; and in fine, Madam, my thoughts can plot no safer contrivance to release you from this estate, which I cannot look upon without sighs and blushes, than the same I had chosen to serve you.  
I was glad to hear these words, that put me in some hope of liberty, and regarding Artaban with an aspect that told him as much: And upon what projection, said I, have you fastened to restore us our freedom? have you sent propositions to the King my Father, and does he offer Provinces or Treasures for the price of our liberties? No Madam, replied Artaban, I shall only direct my addresses to the King my Master, and 'tis from the affection he bears me, and that promised recompense, which his goodness deems a just debt to the services I have done him, that I derive a hope of means to release you: vouchsafe, Madam, if you please, pursued he, drawing out a letter from his pocket, and presenting it open to my hands, to read here what he has done me the honour to write me, and Judge if this bounty does not justly embolden me to demand something of a grand value at his royal hands. At these words he gave me the letter, wherein I read what follows.  
Tigranes' King of the Medes, to the invincible Artaban.  
I Should be the most ingrateful of Princes, should I withhold the confession that I owe you all, and I do not debase my dignity in publishing, that I hold my Crown of you, since your admirable valour catched it when it was falling from my head, and replanted it there by the entire ruin of mine Enemies: I see the bounty of Heaven that presented you to me, as the tutelary Daemon of Media still showers the same success upon you in the Parthians Country, as when you first beat them from our thresholds, and it is now groundless hope that bids me expect a more puissant Crown from your victorious Sword than my Predecessors left me. But dear Artaban, what can I do to be quit with your deserts: and what reward will be high enough to measure with your services? With a part of those Territories your invincible arm has restored me, demand something else that carries a greater value, and though your desires include a large share of my proper blood, do not feat the refusal of a King, whom the unparallelled effects of your virtue has rendered inviolably yours.  
I avow, said I, to Artaban, after I had read this letter, that the Median King does ingenuously acknowledge what he owes you, yet I must say too, there was little reason he should have spoke less to that purpose: and should he stick at the price of any recompense, he would prove himself unworthy of those important services you have done him. Would to Heavens, replied Artaban with a sigh, that all persons to whom I have vowed service, would accept and own it as your judgement directs them, and that you yourself (when I shall once be so happy to make good my intentions) would suit your resentments to your own language. You would wrong us to doubt, replied I, that either the Queen or myself do not think ourselves highly obliged to your noble offices, or shall ever be tardy in her wills to express, though at the rate of something that is dearest, that our apprehensions are neither slow nor insensible to your generosity. No Madam, added he, in lieu of those promises you offer so freely, I expect a loss that in all appearance my whole life will hardly repair, however that cold fear shall not pass my design to please you, and in a few days you shall know what I shall be able to do for your service.  
He then said no more, being obliged to join with the Queen, who had newly finished her dispatches, and begin another discourse.  
After his departure I acquainted the Queen with the hopes he had given me, and as she had cause to credit the parole of so brave a man, she began to take out some lessons of comfort, from the opinion of his virtue, and solemnly wait the effects of promise. Nor did our expectations abuse us, and since I cannot be civil with your patience, unless I abridge a discourse, that if I untwisted every particular, would reach ●o an insufferable length, be pleased to know that a few days after, Artaban entered the Queen's Chamber, with the Characters of a grand satisfaction in his face, though a little interlined with some petty displeasure, and when he had accosted us, Madam, said he to the Queen, I am come to tender the performance of a Promise, that I lately passed to the Princess your Daughter, and to let you know that I am now the happy Master of some power to serve you, vouchsafe, pursued he, presenting a letter to the Queen to peruse this Commission, I lately received from the King my Master. The Queen took the letter from his hands, and having opened it, read these words.  
Tigranes' King of the Medes to General Artaban.  
I Am ashamed, my dear Artaban, you should undervalue the meed of your inestimable valour, at the poor price of two women's ransom; and I wish with passion your demand had taken a larger compass, and included a part of my Province: Time will not be much older before I shall see you upon the Theatre of your conquest, where I intent to wrangle with your modesty, for the offence it hath given to my affection: In the mean time, dispose of these two Princesses, of all the Booty, and Prisoners that are in your hands, with an absolve authority: This is my earnest desire, and when I come I shall complain of your nicety, if I find you have scrupled to perform it.  
The Queen was infinitely pleased in reading this letter, and not able to dissemble it, I never doubted, said she to Artaban, that the Median King could stumble at the desires of a man, to whose Heroic acts he owes the preservation of his own, and the advantage he has gotten upon our territories; had the King my Husband so brave a Servant as Artaban, I am confident he would think all the riches and honour in his power to cheap to reward him; I see our liberty is an entire dependent upon your will, and though your deportment has infinitely sweetened the loss of it, the desire to unte riestraint is so natural, especially in persons of our sex and rank, as I hope you will not think it strange, if we ask it of you, offering such a price to redeem it, as your estimation shall appoint. Would I set your liberties to sale, replied Artaban, the King your Husband's Crown were too little to pay the ransom: but Madam, I do not value the possession of provinces at that height, to compare with the glory I shall reap in rendering you a service, that may in some manner repair the displeasures you have received by our arms. Madam, you are free, your liberty had the same date with my power to pronounce it; and you are in Suit of a ransom, which you cannot offer again, without disobliging a man, to whom, if Heaven has not given the birth of a Prince, perhaps it has not refused the courage. There's none can raise a doubt against it (replied the Queen, tenderly touched with a graceful wonder, at Artaban's nobleness) and if the Gods have not yet reached a Sceptre to your hands, they have given you a virtue preferable to the Roman Empire: we do not blush to receive the gift you offer us from so great a man, and our judgements shall take advice from the vast difference betwixthim and others, to shape our recompense well by the model of his virtue as his obligation. I shall only desire, replied Artaban, three three days more of your Majesty's residence in the City, a space required by necessity, for the preparation of an equipage worthy to attend you, and not irrequisite to lengthen the comfort of a man, who to serve you, does possibly divorce his eyes from their dearest object for ever.  
While he was uttering these words, I perceived his face was suddenly overcast with the cloud of grief, but I then only apprehended it as a Character of his excellent nature and the Queen deceived as well as I, with the same opinion, only suffered it to improve her estimation, and augment her acknowledgement of his goodness.  
We prepared for our departure, with a great deal of contentment, but the Gods otherwise disposed of our affairs, and for the first Remora to retard our wishes, the next morning my Mother was arrested with a furious Fever, the following days it successively increased with much violence, and in a few others grew enraged to such a height, as showed an paparent danger of her life. I will not sad you Madam, with the recital of my grief, nor repeat the regrets I uttered to see her so cruelly handled by her malady, at that point of time when her health was so necessary.  
I stirred not from her pillow, where the tender affection due to so dear a Mother, almost melted me into tears for her danger.  
Artaban, whose affliction appeared little short of mine, forgot not to urge every shadow of a reason, that might contribute to my comfort, and caused the Queen to be served with as specious a care, as if she had been in Phraates Palace.  
The King my Father, with Artaban's permission, often sent to understand her condition, and I wrote him a perfect account of all the passages and gave him every single particular, how the generous Artaban had obliged us.  
In the mean time, Heaven was pleased to take away all the danger, but her half conquered malady proved so obstinate a resistance of nature, as it cost her more than fifteen days after the Fever had left her, before she could recover strength enough to quit her bed. When my fears were once overblown, Artaban resumed his usual parley, with more facility, than when my grief forbade that freedom; but he still framed his discourses to such a fashion, as I perceived he eclipsed part of his thoughts, and was forced to do violence upon himself to keep his heart from his tongue.  
I than began to entertain some little suspicions of the truth, but the fresh sense of our obligation to that man, made me fly all occasions to confirm them, for fear of learning something that might urge me to treat him with an uneven brow; and indeed himself sought them so coldly, as I found no necessity to disfigure the face of my behaviour towards him.  
At last the Queen's approaches to health renewed the assurance of our departure; but our destiny disposed it so, that the same day she left her bed, Artaban received intelligence that Tigranes was upon his march to the City with fresh supplies for his Army, and three or four days after we saw him arrived with a pompous and magnificent equipage.  
I know not what Prophetic Demon taught us to look upon his coming at a point of time, as an unlucky Omen: but the Queen was troubled at it, and Artaban himself (though his Master received him with all the caresses that his service and deserts could teach him to expect) appeared but little satisfied. However we disposed ourselves to receive him as became us, and his visit was no longer deferred than till the second day after his arrival.  
The Queen had then strength enough to walk about the Chamber, and hoped in a short time to endure a Litter which enabled her with a little help, to give him the Compliment of a meeting at the Chamber door; he entered it leaning upon Artaban's Arm, with a very plausible deportment, thts Prince had a handsome aspect, his years were about six or seven and twenty, his accost very civil, and the converse agreeable. He treated us with a great deal of respect, told the Queen he was come to confirm the promise Artaban had made her, that he was sorry her malady had hindered her from gathering the fruits of it, and that the satisfaction he resented, to see her in a place, where he might offer her some acceptable service, was moderated by the displeasure he took from her indisposition.  
The Queen replied to this discourse with a great deal of acknowledgement, assured him in behalf of the King her Husband, that his Generosity would gain a greater conquest upon him than his Arms, and forgot nothing that a dextrous and discreet Princess might speak to purpose, at such an encounter.  
Tigranes' stayed and entertained us that whole day; but at the next interview, he directed his language and behaviour to me with a partitular address, and by the cruelty of my destiny, mistook something in my face that he thought was amiable.  
His first expressions were seasoned with nought but common civility, and he contented himself to make me a discourse that might pass for a piece of gallantry among persons of any equal condition; the second day he made my beauty his Theme, and spent some Rhetoric in praises upon it, though he let fall no language that imported it had made any Sculpture upon his heart; but at the third, he explained himself more openly, and approaching to me near a window, while Artaban entertained the Queen by his command: Madam, said she, such Prisoners as you are very dangerous, and I fear Artaban has done me a disservice in detaining you here so long, to make an unhappy pass of my condition into the same with yours.  
These words, which I was not accustomed to hear, discomposed me so strangely, as I wanted assurance on the sudden to shape him an answer, only in letting fall my looks to the ground, I endeavoured to give him notice that I was utterly unprepared for discourses of that nature. Do Madam, added he, remarking my action, do, turn aside those bright eyes, perhaps for shame of your last conquest, the wounds they made are deeper and more mortal than any of those swords can give that are drawn to decide our quarrel, and believe it the King of Parthia has nothing so powerful as they to disarm us, or make me do homage to his Empire.  
He said no more, and the intelligence he took from my face, that his words had refused me, made him preserve the rest till some other time, and address his discourse to my Mother; but that Evening retiring with Artaban (as I since understood) Ah Artaban, said he, what a milky path of beauty is this Parthian Princess, and how over-seen were you, that you did not forewarn me of the danger to behold her!  
Artaban was troubled to hear these words, and the jealous conjectures he drew from these beginnings, taught him too well to presage a part of the sequel, but if he was nettled with those thoughts, I was not less perplexed, at the discourse his Master had made me, and the Queen taking notice of some stings of discontent, that stuck in my visage, pressed me so earnestly to reveal the cause, as I was constrained to strip the truth of it to her knolwedge.  
The next day my anxieties were very sensibly redoubled, and Tigranes repeating his visit, having once more engaged the Queen in a discourse with two Princes of his lineage; accosted me with more confidence than before, and anticipating of a part of what he had to say by his looks; I know not, Madam, said she, whether the King your, Father makes use of you to revenge his quarrel, but I am sure he could not impose a harder condition upon his cruelest Enemy, than the sad Estate whereto your beauty has reduced me, and if I did not hope some redress from your pity I should think myself the most unfortunate and lost Prince that ever felt a passion.  
The close of this discourse was as unwelcome to myear as the Prologue, and now no longer willing to personate a stupid insensibility, I struggled with myself to return him this answer; The King of Parthia's resentments, said I, are enjoined by Justice, to design a large part of their animosity, to those noble offices we have received from you and yours, and I cannot comprehend how you should be reduced to a condition worthy of pity either by his arms or mine; I know not, Tigranes, whether to die daily for you will give me a good title to your companion; but of this I am assured that the charity of it can never expend itself upon a greater necessity, and if pains and sufferings can attract it, never had any torment a better claim than mine. This hardy discourse (which employed but little respect to a Princess, with whom the King's acquaintance was not above four days old) did a little anger me, and not able to dissemble it. My present condition, said I, enforces me to that from you which perhaps your own discretion would make some conscience to suffer dispense with at another season.  
Tigranes was guided by these words, to observe such a discontent upon my brow, as persuaded him then to give over the pursuit of that subject, but a few days after he renewed the chase, and in fine, gaveme plainly to understand that I was reduced to endure his perfecutions.  
Artaban, who drove a greater interest in his Master's newborn passion that we conjectured, perceived it with a very sensible displeasure, and resolved to employ all his power to cut it off in its infancy: the Queen quickly found herself able to endure a Little, and perceiving it high time to challenge the promise of her liberty, gave notice to Artaban that health would not permit her to accept his offer.  
Artaban, who knew he had no less reason to expedite the performance than she to demand it, and who could not see us in the power of Tygranes, without such disquiets as result from a timorous jealousy, readily disposed himself to render us that office, and the same day moved the King to confirm his grant, whereof the effects had only been retarded by the Queen's indisposition. Tygranes' received this proposition from Artaban, with a face full of trouble, and after he had taken some time to return his answer: Artaban, said he, what need you make such haste to precipitate a business, that does not demand it? the Queen of Parthia has not been ill treated among us, and we shall have time enough to talk of her departure, when we may agree to it with more civility.  
Artaban heard these words with a mortal displeasure, but knowing the prompt and impatient humour of Tygranes, he thought it not then fit to press him farther.  
After this he stayed some days before he renewed his request, and the King knowing his intention, and how his honour was engaged, grew cautions to envade all occasions, that might again betray his ear to such addresses, and by putting on a more serious and cold aspect than ordinary, endeavours to rebate the edge of his importunity; but he dealt with a spirit, which neither fear, nor all the considerations of Interest and Fortune, had power to stagger in the prosecution of what so weightily concerned his word and honour, for which he had no sooner seconded our solicitations, but with a firm resolve, to expose himself to all the hazard and danger that could menace his enterprise, he went to find the King in his Cabinet, and with a brave assurance, in his looks demanded the performanc of his promise, that referred to our release: Tygranes took these words very ill at his hands, and he saw himself obliged to reply, Ah Artaban, said he, turning his head aside, how little care you keep to please your friends! How Sir, said Artaban, would you approve my complacence, should I counsel you to violate the royal word you have passed, and I too in your behalf, to the greatest Princesses in the world. The word you have given (replied the King, who began to kindle at the liberty of his language) does not engage you at all, since the execution depends not on you, and you shall fairly excuse and acquit yourselves when you tell them, that I have changed my intention. Though that were enough to disengage me, answered Artaban, yet Sir, it leaves the debt of your promise unpaid, and I am tenderly enough concerned in what touches your honour to oppose myself, with all the credit I ever gained in your thoughts, to an action that exposes you to eternal reproaches. It was only to you, replied Tigranes, that I passed my promise, and the knowledge of yourself and me, will not let you be ignorant; that I have power to revoke it when I please.  
Artaban, whose courage could never bow to any base consideration, could not tamely pocket discourse so full of an angry scorn, and regarding the King with a haughty eye, and with that natural fierceness, that was ready to start into his looks and actions, when his courage waked it. Sir, said he, I am not born your Subject, and it was only my unconstrained will, that brought me to unsheathe my Sword in your service, wherewith you have reaped too fruitful a harvest of profit and glory, to treat me justly with so much contempt and indignity; if you think the passive obedience that may be required by a Sovereign from a Subject, will serve to acquit you of your promise, your plea is not good against a man that owes you no allegiance, and one that has done more for you than all your Medians at a lump together; Sir, if you have any room left in your soul for the consideration of services, those I have rendered you may possible be found important enough to merit something more than what you have accorded. The services you have done me, replied the King, inflamed with choler, have all been prerequited by degrees of honour, misplaced by my bounty upon you, to the prejudice of many persons, that had a juster title than you to their possession; and though your services be already overpaid, know I am willing to add another recompense, in suffering your insolent language to pass without a punishment; which I can as easily inflict, as you have saucily deserved it.  
These words strangled all the consideration of patience and respect in Artaban, and as his rage had then rendered him utterly incapable of fear, regarding the King with an action full of disdain: think not King of the Medes, said he, that I can either shrink at your threats, or be bought with those benefits wherewith you upbraid me: No, both the one and the other are too much below me, and so long as I carried this sword about me (that put the Crown upon your head, and cut you out a condition to talk like a Master upon the King of Parthia's Territories, that a few months since had scarce a corner of your own to secure you) I shall teach it to defend me against all my Enemies; and gather fairer Flowers of Dignity and Honour in the wide field of the World, than any I can hope from such a King as You, perhaps I may carry it into places, where it may prove as it has been serviceable to you; and by the assistance of my abused spirit, I may one day compel You to keep your word, or at least disengage me of mine.  
At the close of these words he turned his back upon the King, without paying the least reverence to his person, and holding his hand upon the guard of his sword, went out of the Chamber with an action so terrible, as of all those that were near the King, there was not a man so hardy to oppose his passage, or had courage enough to come near him.  
Tigranes remained so astonished and confused at this adventure, as he knew not where he was, nor had he then the assurance to reply one word, or call to his guard to arrest him; he might easily have taken his Life, and those thoughts that were the eldest children of his anger did vote it so, but some of the chief Nobility then about him, that held Artaban's virtue in a great veneration, stepped so readily in to mediate in his behalf, by insinuating the memory of those grand things he had done in his service, as believing he could not put him to death, without a barbarous ingratitude, that would render him odious and detestable to all the Earth, he contented himself to send him a Command by the Captain of his guards, to get him out of the City the same day, and appear no more in his Dominions upon forfeiture of his life.  
This sentence of Artaban's banishment was perfectly superfluous, since if the King had offered to have bought his residence with a large reward, he would have stayed no longer in his service; he had no sooner left the presence, but he came to our lodging, with all the haste he could make, for fear delay should give Tigranes' leisure to cut off his passage to that visit with a prohibition.  
He struggled with himself before he came at us, to sweeten and suppress all that was terrible in his looks, yet he could not do it so smoothly, but we observed some alteration there, which neither the grandeur of his courage, or respect had power to disguise; he had no sooner aborded us, but addressing himself to the Queen; Madam, said he, I am come, with unspeakable regret, to avow my impuissance, and ungrateful King, a Prince that violates his word, and a Man unworthy to wear a Crown, has robbed me of the means to restore you your liberty, and by the help of an injurious disesteem of my services, and his own honour, has unworthily decreed, that You remain his Prisoners, and that I must live with the shame of that affront he has given me, and the sorrow of failing to redeem the reputation that was pawned in my promise to release you; Madam I must leave you in the power of a King, that (basely ingrateful as he is) I know will not dare to forget the respect that is due to you, and I am going to make his Enemy's amends, for the wrongs I have unluckily done them in my services to him, for which I carry away with me no other regard than shame and repentance: if the King your Husband will now accept the service of this sword which I drew against him and his with too much success, peradventure it may heal the wounds it has given, in taking back what it took away, and by this very sword I engage myself once more before the Gods and you, to restore your liberty: Madam, if my Soul stays in this clay, you need not fear a second failing of my promise, I am confident I shall draw you from the hands of Tigranes, though deprived of all human assistance, and if the King of Parthia judges me worthy of any eminent employment in his Army, I do not question but quickly to send back that ingrateful man, to seek a refuge in the limits that his Father left him: I confess, Madam, I must ask some time to confirm you this assurance, and to demand your pardon as I ought, for the offences I have committed by this unwilling abuse of your expectation, in a promise that I had not power enough to make good.  
Artaban, after these words, prepared himself to take his leave of us, when the Queen (who had heard his discourse) with astonishment and surprisal staying him by his arm, Think not generous Artaban, said she, that because we see ourselves deprived of the hopes you have given us, we can find any cause of complaint against you, 'twas my indisposition that only hindered the effects of your goodness, and we are still tied in obligation to that noble intent, as all the power the King my Husband has left him, is too weak to requite it: indeed we shall stay here with too much regret, in being deprived of that support and comfort we received in you, but the profit we are like to reap, by gaining so brave a man to our party, whom victory waits upon like a Page, gives a pleasing relish to this second loss of our liberties: the King of Parthia knows your virtue to his cost, and he is not ignorant how deeply you have put us in your debt: if you draw your sword in his quarral, you will doubtless find from his just resentments, all that you lost by Tygranes' ingratitude, and if, as I hope it is, your valour be allotted to cut our chains asunder, we shall then see you in some other places, where we can better accknowledge what we owe to your generosity.  
At these words, seeing he only returned her the answer of a low reverence, she embraced him as her Benefactor, and after he had taken his leave of her, approaching to me; Madam, said he, be pleased to allow this ambition of mine to serve you and yours, till the last moment of my life, and if the Gods permit that I thrive in this design, do me the grace to regard the success with some bounty; but if they decree that I perish in the enterprise, I hope you will honour the memory of a man, with a little place in your thoughts, to whom the occasion to die for your interest, was far dearer and more glorious than the possession of Empires.  
There was two much passion betrayed in these words, and the manner wherewith he pronounced them accused his discretion too openly; however, (as our condition and his kindness was then balanced) I was loath to understand them in a criminal sense, but regarding him with a visage, that spoke a great deal of good will: Go generous Artaban, said I, obey the motions wherewith your good Fortune inspires you, and do not doubt but I shall ever cherish as great an esteem of your person, and as grateful a resentment of your actions, as your own desires can frame you.  
Artaban's face confessed a great deal of satisfaction from these few words, and having kissed my hand by the Queen's consent, who, made me a sign to give it him, he took his leave and retired to the Chamber, where all things were prepared for his departure, and delayed his stay no longer, than the time it would cost him to mount himself and some of his Servants on Horseback, giving order to the rest of his Equipage, to follow him to the place where he intended to lodge; he was so passionately loved by the Officers of the Army, as a great part of them offered to run his Fortune, but they could not gain his consent so much as to suffer one single man to go with him besides his Domestics.  
Really we should have stayed behind him with no mediocrity of grief for his departure, if it had not been sweetened by the cognizance we took of that considerable succour he carried to our Army in his single person; the grandeur of his actions, that had got him a loud fame among all those that loved and knew how to use a sword, and the things he had done and was like to do to our advantage: from the advice of these experiments we took an opinion that taught us to consider him as a man that was wholly extraordinary; and since 'tis but fit I should give you my thoughts in their naked innocence, I cannot but confess to you that the marvellous qualities of his person, and the grand obligations wherewith his vertuehad tied us to him, had fetched him some wishes in my breast, that had more warmththan usually tempers common good will, and could I have judged his birth but approaching to any equality with mine, I think my soul had preferred him before all the men in the world: this was all the advantage he had gained upon me, and perhaps it was not so cheap in a person of my humour, but it might have given him content enough had he known it.  
The next day after his departure, the King of the Medes made us a visit, and accosted us with as great a confidence as if he had given us no cause of complaint against him; he made the Queen very bad excuses for what he had done, and told her that some important reasons had persuaded him to defer those intents that were proportioned to our wishes, that so soon as he had ranged his affairs in the order he aimed at, he would render a fairer satisfaction to our desires, than Artaban could teach us to hope for. The Queen replied, that she never had any other pretence to that favour, than by such ways as the world had tracked before her, and though Artaban with an access of generosity, had refused the ransom she had offered, she had ever persisted in her design to send it him, and she knew the King of Parthia's disposition too well, to believe he would receive a present from his Enemies, unless reason made the conditions: Tigranes returned an answer that was near a kin to his former discourse: but a little after accosting me: Think not Madam, said he, that any other reason could oblige me to an action, which (if you place rigour in your judgement-sear) I know undergoes a heavy Censure, but the impossibility that I feel to rend myself from you so suddenly: no Madam, either consent to stay with us, or carry me with you among the Parthians; for believe it, the separation from my Court and liberty, will be less insupportable than to part with you; nor need you afflict yourself to stay with a King that is more your Prisoner than you are his, with a King that will sooner give up the propriety in his Crown and life, than ruffle the smooth harmony of your thoughts with the least displeasure: where will you reign with a more absolute Sovereignty, than in a place where Kings are your Subjects? and what condition can your expectation frame among the Parthians, that is more advantageous than to have a Crowned slave to attend you?  
He vexed me with a multitude of hotter words to this purpose, which I still replied to, in terms that were little obliging. The following days were employed in this manner to prolong my affliction, but he always sweetened his persecutions with respect, and indeed not only himself, but his whole Court (by his example and Command) behaved themselves to us with such a studied civility, as I could accuse him for nothing else but the refusal of our liberty, and the importunity of his love.  
In the mean time Artaban advanced by great Journeys to the place where the King my Father resided, and though he passed through an Enemy's Country that he had handled very harshly, he carried such confidence in himself, as he never so much as demanded a Convoy, nor sought any Caution for the safety of his person; nevertheless as his train was very great and magnific for a private man, he was oft examined about the cause of his voyage, but so soon as he declared that he went to find out the King of Parthia, all the passages flew open to receive him, and the general belief that he was going with propositions of peace, got him divers offers of a safe conduct and guard to the Court.  
In fine, he arrived at Hecatompolis, where the King was then making new Levies on all sides, to regain a condition once more to take the Field, and march in person to the place, where we were, so soon as the season would suffer him.  
Artaban was not so precise as to observe the ordinary formalities, that usually precede the admission of a stranger to a Royal presence: but having only demanded permission to speak with the King, he entered the great Chamber where he saw him environed with the principal persons of his Court. The Nobility of his aspect and garb, presently drew the eyes of all the assistants upon him, and while they were gathering fresh causes of wonder about him, he made his approaches to the King with a most becoming confidence, and having paid him the reverence that he believed was due: Sir said he, I am Artaban, that name is probably known to you by the damage it has done you, and by some advantages in War, that Fortune has given me upon your subjects, I have quitted the Service of an ungrateful King, to come and enrol myself in yours, if you be willing to receive me: the dishonour he has done me (in refusing liberty to the Queen your Wife, the Princess your Daughter) by an infamous breach of promise, has made me resolve to abandon him, and bring that Sword to his Enemies, which has been drawn with too much success in his quarrel: Sir, if you dare adventure a Commission to unsheathe it in your service, I shall forfeit a great deal of confidence, if it does not unravel all his victories, and do the same things for you against him; thus repairing your losses, I shall take hold of occasion to revenge my particular injury: if you regard me as an enemy that retarded your conquests, and destroyed so many thousands of your subjects, you have now the power in your hands to punish the outrage it has done you; but if you can bend any thought to consider me as a man that may be useful to advance your interests, possible there wants no more than your own consent to re-assure your estate, and revenge yourselves upon your Enemies.  
Thus did the undaunted Artaban discourse the intent of his coming, and the King whose wonder at the first gaze had done homage to the haughty and handsome charms of his visage, and then improved his surprisal at the name of Artaban, which he had too much cause to remember, could listen to so bold a speech, and so conformed to the greatness of his actions that pronounced it, without a marvellous astonishment; he often travelled his eye upon him from head to foot, and encountered nothing but fresh excuses of his admiration in his person, discourse and action:  
At first the name of that Artaban, that had snatched the Median Crown out of his hands, and shaken his own so rudely, as he already apprehended the fall of it, began to kindle some resentments, and for a few moments he regarded him as an Enemy that had blasted the fruit and glory of his Actions, by the gaining of three great battles, the taking of his Towns, and the death of 100000 Parthians; but at the same time he remembered, what the Queen's Letters and mine had mine had mentioned of his treatment, and the noble design he had to set us at liberty; in sequel he considered the franchise of his action, and the grand confidence expressed by the exposure of his safety, unforced by necessity, to an uncertain and dangerous trial; and in fine, he fell to examine his own interest which he found was highly concerned in the gaining of a man that dragged victory after him, and who alone was able to change his destiny.  
This last thought got the victory of all the rest, and when he had cashiered the former, and cleared up those clouds that seemed to presage a storm in his visage, while he was yet irresolute, he approached Artaban with open arms, and giving him his hand with an affable and obliging look; Gallant man, said he, you are welcome, the memory of your last actions has wiped out all the injuries you have done us, and the knowledge I have of your valour will not let me disdain your assistance, which I receive as a certain Omen of my victory, and my enemy's ruin; you may safely assure yourself of all those advantages with us that you forsook in Media, and possible you shall find we know better than they, how to render what is due to your virtue.  
At these words he embraced him, and by his example obliged all those in his presence to proportion their respect to his high reputation, nor needed he take much pains to dispose them to it, for they were all so prepossessed with the noise that ran about the world of the virtue, and the proofs of his gallantry which some of them had left to their cost, that they looked upon him as a person whom the Gods had raised above mortality; it than happened contrary to the usual custom, that those whose birth or desert might feed up an ambition in their souls to pretend to the highest charges, were all willing to release their claims to him, and calmly submitted to the Kings will without repining, when he gave him the command of his Army.  
In the soul of Phraates, with many bad qualities, there is a mixture of some that are good, and as the natural channel of his inclinations still carried him to warlike designs, he always set a marvellous price upon valiant men, and ever gave them the upper hand of others in his esteem, that were only indebted for dignities to their birth or fortune, which they could not merit by their virtue. Of this he gave a clear testimony in his treatment of Artaban, whom he presently placed in the highest rank of his men of War, and a while after in presence of his oldest Captain, gave a Commission to command his Army, at the age of 22 years, for he had lived no longer.  
There wanted not some that Criticised upon the King's facility, because he did not stay for some experience, before he trusted so weighty a charge (that imported no less than the conservation, or utter ruin of his estate) to a young man bred up among his Enemies, whom only a Capricious humour had caused him to abandon, and with whom he was not assured that he did not yet hold intelligence: but Phraates had so seriously studied the generosity, that shined with an equal and continued lustre in all Artaban's actions, as none of those detracting objections could penetrate his belief or lessen his confidence in him. Artaban was very joyful to see himself invested with a power to act his revenge upon the Median King, and believed the promises of his own great heart, that before a year was run through the glass of time he should reduce him to terms of repentance for the affront he had offered.  
The winter's rigour did yet oblige him to make some stay with the King, which he entirely employed in preparations necessary for his warlike expedition: but so soon as the season grew milder at the Sun's approaches, his Troops complete, his Companions full, and all things fitted for a march, he put himself in the head of 20000 Horse, and 30000 Foot, and advanced against Tigranes with an order, that made the most experienced Captains admire him.  
In the mean time Tigranes had not stirred from Nisa (that was the City's name where we were) and judging his presence more necessary in a Conquered Country than his own, where all things were calm and assured, or rather not willing to abandon us, and indeed not daring to commit such a sin against the respect and complacence of his affection, as to draw us after him like slaves into his own Provinces, he dispersed his orders through all parts of his Dominions, to the troops that lay scattered in their several Quarters, to draw up thither, and with intention to advance his conquests nearer the heart of Parthia, he had form the body of an Army consisting of 60000 Combatants; he spoke no more of our enlargement, and hath already rejected all the King my Father's propositions for our ransom, though they prostituted very advantageous offers to his refusal, for which he pleaded to me no other excuse, than that a separation from me would be far more insupportable than the fatal divorce of soul and body: he paid me his visits but with too much assiduity, and (bating his condescent to our enlargement) forgot nothing either in language or deportment that might make him nearer approaches in his siege of my affection, but instead of a successive progress in his industry, every day was witness to a more obstinate resistance against his batteries, and though his person was handsome, and his qualities very commendable, yet the falsehood he showed (as my opinion told me) in so base a revolt from his word, had given me such a perfect disgust of all his endeavours to please me, as rendered every thing disagreeable about him; the efforts he made to combat my aversion, were always beaten off with the loss of labour, and though the Queen my Mother often commanded me to humour the necessity of our affairs, with a moderation of my rigour, and sometimes to regard him with a gentler visage, on purpose to secure his respect towards us, from the violence of despair, I found it very difficult to subdue my reluctance, and my obedience was never upon harder service than in this obstinate quarrel with my obstinacy; we had the same Officers and Servants, that the King my Father left to attend us, and Tigranes had diminished nothing in our house, nor altered any thing in tenor of our service, only he placed a very strict guard upon us, especially since. Artabans' departure, fearing (for he knew his daring spirit was apt to climb over the greatest difficulties) he would make some attempts to deliver us.  
Thsu did the pulse of our condition beat, when fame brought him news of the Parthian armies advance, and told him that Artaban their new General marched at the head of it, and was then coming up to meet him with displayed Ensigns: Tygranes, who knew Artaban too well to displease him, was a little troubled at this intelligence, but as indeed to give him his due, he was a man of courage, he quickly recovered the use of his discretion, and trusting in the number and valour of his men, which had been accustomed to overcome, he drew his Army together to meet his Enemies, and resolved to lead them on in person, apprehending it no safety to trust the abilities of any of his Commanders, to cope with such a General as Artaban: he than saw himself constrained to quit us, and believing our persons more secure in that place, than if he took us into the body of his Army, he left us there with a strong Garrison, as well to guard us, as defend the place.  
In the mean time our languishing thoughts began to hold up their heads with more vivacity than ordinary, and by the lucky success of Artaban's voyage, and the hope that was reposed in his virtue, you may easily judge that our wishes were mingled but with little good meaning to the King of Media, and this was the subject of the Queen's discourse and mine, when Tygranes entered our Chamber to take his leave of us: he was then in a habit of War, and truly became it so well, as doubtless the Decorum of his mind and deportment might well be considerable to all such persons as were not prepossesed with dislike and resentment against him: I remember he made a thousand bravadoes in our presence, and denounced as many menaces against Artaban, whom he called the contemptible revolted, and with too confident a cruelty designed him for an exemplary punishment: he held us in too long a discourse to perplex your patience with the repetition, and a few months before he parted from our presence, directing his particular addresses to me: Madam, said he, if your solicitations of Heaven did not bandy against me, I should think myself already in a possession of a certain victory; but sure the Gods will not hear them, because they are unjust, and I shall quickly return with Bays in my hand, from the conquest of a man that will not dare to look upon the face of his offended Master; I know I shall bring home that Insolent in chains, that would have killed me with a cruel separation from you, but for your sake I shall make it my care to get a gentle victory upon your Father's Subjects, and endeavour to spare their blood, because I adore her that must be their Mistress. I am obliged, replied I, to your good intentions, but success is not always suited to our expectations, and victory (till their bounty removes her) lives rather in the God's hands, than in man's disposal. Ah! might it please the same Gods, answered Tigranes, that the conquest I pretend to upon your rigour, might not prove more difficult to obtain, that I had no more to do, than to vanquish the Parthians, with their new General, to complete my victory upon your spirit, which my fears tell me will cost me many combats, that include far more dangers and difficulties, than I am able to encounter, among your Father's Subjects.  
He stayed not for an answer to this discourse, but taking his leave of us he went out of the Chamber and departed the City the same day: he only advanced some two days march towards Artaban, spoiling and devasting the Country as he went, and at the two day's end, having found an advantageous past to encamp his Army, he resolved to stay the coming up of his Enemy, and take that time to rest his men and horses, which he martiall'd for the battle in a very beautiful order.  
He waited not long for the approach of his Rival, for the third day afer Artaban (who because he was loath to harass his Army, had caused it to march but slowly) appeared, encamped in view, and the next day presented him battle.  
Tigranes' accepted his offer with all sorts of advantages, his Army was much the stronger in number, far less weary than the Parthians, and his station much more commodious: but all these considerations were in capable to unbend the resolution of his Rival to fight him, and after he had ranged his Troops with a military method, that got him the admiration of all that beheld it, he gave the signal to begin the Combat, and fought it with such a mingled skill and bravery of Captain and Soldier, as after six hours bloody dispute, wherein Tygranes (by the confusion of his very Enemies) behaved himself in his Office like a gallant Gentleman, and a good Commander, victory voted for the Parthian party, and declared herself so entirely for them, as after they had died all the Field in the Crimson Livery of death, and strewed it with the greatest part of the Median Army, there remained but a few miserable relics that escaped the tired gluttony of their Enemy's Swords, and their King, who stayed to see some of the latest Scenes of that deplorable Tragedy, had scarce time to secure his person by a retreat with 5 or 600 horse) which he had gleaned from the several scattered Troops) to the City where he left us. The victorious Artaban, who after he saw his Enemy's backs, did all that was possible to manage his Victory with moderation, and spare the Median blood, marched after Tigranes with such a winged expedition, as he appeared within view of the Walls, almost assoon as the King of Media entered them, and eagerly desirous to block up the passages, and so deprive him of the means to carry us away, he made his Circumvallations the same day, and stopped up the advenues on all sides.  
Tigranes then too late saw the Rock against which his precipitate Pride had dashed him, & deduced his repentance for what had passed, as well from the change of his Fortune, as some sad reflections that almost broke him upon the wheel of despair; the loss of that battle justified his affliction, but when he saw himself besieged and shut up in a City, whence all the hope of retreat was cut off by his own imprudence, and these things done by a man, whose resistance he had scorned, and by a man who a few days before had taken pay in his service, he was struck with so violent a grief as all the courage he could make had scarce force enough to resist it.  
You need not doubt but the frowns of his Fortune, and the view of his Enemies, which we discovered from our Chamber-windows, began to get life again in our swooned hopes and call home our banished Joys; however the Queen deemed it fit we should visit him in his affliction; he had not seen us since he took his leave when he went the expedition, but full of rage and confusion, had confined himself to his Chamber, where maugre all the comfors his Servants could allege, from what his hopes might yet lay hold of, he abandoned himself to a very desolate condition, nevertheless he knew that so long as he had us in his power, he might capitulate when he pleased, and obtain a free passage to retreat into his own Country; but he looked upon that as a cruel remedy, and he could not consider Artaban as the man that had reduced him to it, without a whirlwind of furious thoughts that threw down all his patience.  
After the Queen had sent him notice that she intended him a visit, we went at last to his lodging (for we had liberty to walk the City through, with a great number of men at our heels, which under the honourable vizard of a train to attend us, were no other than a guard to prevent the stealth of our liberty) we took care in the composure of our looks to set a modest face upon our Fortune, and found his in too deep a melancholy die to dissemble it; he had no sooner paid his salutes to the Queen, but addressing himself to me; Your wishes, Madam, said he, have been more prevalent than our arms, they have given the victory to mine Enemies, and Gods as well as men believed it unlawful to cross your will; 'tis you alone that have been the fountain of my misfortunes, and if that affection which can never be shut out from hence, unless my soul keep it company, had not dazzled my judgement, I had ordered my affairs with a greater caution, and the faithless Artaban had never forsaken my Colours to go serve my Enemies. I will not say, replied I, that we have made any vows in your favour, since all sorts of reasons forbid it; but I shall not injure truth to assure you, that with this victory the Gods have bestowed upon our Parthians, we did not demand your ruin at their hands, and the change of our fortune shall not forbid us the practice of all the credit we have in the King my Father, to moderate his animosity, and prevail for his condescent to as gentle conditions of Peace, as your own desires can justly aim at: I know not how to believe, Madam, answered he, that you should take such a task upon you for a Prince, in whom you never understood any thing but subjects of scorn and contempt: no Madam, you have been too reguardless of my spirits repose, to perplex yourself with the care of my estate; perhaps my Fortunes are not so low and crawling as you apprehend them, and I have yet force and courage enough lest to raise the crest of this condition, to which the infidelity of my servant, and the love of my Princess has reduced me.  
We exchanged some other discourse, at the end of which we left him. The next day Artaban sent him a summon, to deliver us into his hands, with the offer of a safe retreat into his own territories, but he disdainfully rejected his propositions, and sent back the Trumpeter with a contumelious answer, that provoked him to prepare for a general assault.  
Tigranes was desirous by a stout resistance to redeem the credit his Error had lost, in suffering himself to be shut up so imprudently, and his Destiny (or ours if you will) decree his fall into the trap of a piece of indiscretion grotsser than the form the third day after the siege beganhaving learned that Artaban, was busy in contriving some Enemies for the assault, and believing he should take him unprovided, he sallied out in person with 7 or 800 Horse that he had in the City, backed with 1200 Foot, which he caused to advance some Furlongs from the Gates for a reserve; this attempt was so little expected, as they easily surprised the Parthian outguards, quickly charged through those that made a disorderly opposition to their passage, and Tygranes, prided with that successful beginning, blindly spurred on through all where he found the way unguarded; but Artaban no sooner received intelligence of what had passed, which ran from mouth to mouth till it arrived at his ear, but he mounted himself with an admirable diligence, and taking some Troops of Horse with him, that he saw readiest for the purpose, in stead of opposing Tigranes' fury, he left him an easy passage to a farther engagement within his Trenches, and in the mean time with his horse too a little compass to get between him and the City; and leaving a part of his men engaged in Combat against Tigranes' Infantry, he went to charge the rear of his Horse with the rest, but first he drew a circle of a man about him, that cut off all possibility of retreat.  
The King of Media turning his eye toward the City, perceived the folly he had committed, but finding too late that the malady raged beyond the help a of medicine, he desperately threw himself into the midst of his Enemies, and had there doubtless lost his life in the throng if Artaban who knew him by divers marks, had not cried to his men to spare the King; at his voice they drew off, and only contented themselves to surround him, and their General advancing towards him with his visor half up, Render yourself King of the Medes, cried he, Fortune is your Enemy.  
Tigranes presently knew Artaban, and instead of replying, with a fury full of the stings of despair, made his sword answer with a blow upon his head, given with all the force that hatred and anguish could levy.  
The excellent temper of the Casque resisted the blow, and the gallant Artaban's moderation was so great as he would neither strike high enemy again, nor so much as permit any of his men to totouch but opposing his shield to Tigranes' sword, and presenting the point of his own toward him either render thyself King of the Medes, said he, or thou art a dead man.  
Tigranes, as hotly as his fit of despair held him, took some fear from this menace, and perceiving himself in no possibility to vanquish, thought it no shame to give way to the malice of his Fortune; and sadly perceiving all remedies beyond his reach, after he had taken some moments to ponder the necessity of yielding, at last he presented the pummel of his sword to Artaban.  
Artaban received it with a grand submission, but it was only to return it back to the scabbard, not deeming it fit to disarm a King, to whom he been so lately tied in the chains of respect & affection; and marching by his side through the middle of his men, he conducted the King to his own Tent, where he treated him, as if he had never been ingrateful, always kept himself bare in his presence, and paid him his personal attendance as well at meals as in his Bedchamber, as if Justice had made him a Title to that observance by a lawful Soveraingty.  
The next day, so soon as the King was awaked, he came to his bed's side, and demanding permission to speak his intentions; Sir, said he, without perplexing your memory with what is past, or explaining the just reason I had to serve your Enemies against you, I shall content myself to tell you, that you are now the King of Parthia's Prisoner, if with safety of honour I could assume the power, without betraying that important trust he has ventured upon me, perhaps I should quickly release you of this displeasure, but you are not the first King that has been a Captive; and to improve your comfort, this misfortune has arrived you at such a point of time, as it shall depend upon your will to accept of an easy remedy; you cannot hope that the City can hold out many days, especially being deprived of your Majesty's presence, that might encourage and oblige your men to a longer resistance: by this reducement the Queen of Parthia and the Princess her Daughter, will infallibly fall into our hands, yet what ever blame I may contract from a King that has leaned the whole weight of his Crown upon my loyalty, and for whose interest I could doubtless make conditions more advantageous; I demand no other ransom for your person, than the liberty of these two Princesses, command that they be rendered us to day with the place that holds them, and you with all your men shall have a safe retreat granted you, and if you think their guard insufficient, I will send a Convoy with you to the Confines of your Kingdom.  
Tigranes who could not rationally hope for such gentle conditions, and who saw that by an extrordinary deferrence, Artaban demanded no more for his ransom than what a few days would empower him to take in spite of all resistance, fearing the arrival of some order from the King of Parthia, that might probably countermand these favourable intentions; presently accepted the proposition, and though his affection hotly disputed against the necessity of resigning me into another's hands, the impossibility to close the wounds of his broken estate, and buy his liberty at a lower value, confuted all the arguments it could urge, and he immediately sent order to his Commanders in the City to draw out the Garrison, and leave us as absolute Mistresses there, as when it was first taken.  
His orders were punctually obeyed, the Medians quitted, the Parthians entered the place, and we saw ourselves at the same moment free, and reigning where we had so lately and so long been captives.  
Tigranes had likewise his liberty restored him, and retired with his men towards the frontiers of Media, upon the Parole, and with the Convoy that Artaban had given him, to clear his passage through those parts of the Parthian Dominion, that lay between him and his Medians.  
After his departure, the Triumphant Artaban, whose valour had unpinioned our liberty, quitted his Camp to give us a visit in the City, and his presence was then far dearer and more agreeable than when we first saw him the year before.  
The Queen believing she should not offend her dignity, by stooping it with a just acknowledgement to her Protector, embraced him with tears of joy, and if I made him Caresses that were less familiar at least I endeavoured to spread my face with as pleasing looks, and put as obliging words into my mouth, as might serve to let him see, that my apprehension was in no arrears to his merit: the Queen and I fell both upon the subject of his admirable valour, and the exact observance of his word, with Eulogies that proved oppressions to his modesty; the first part of our discourse was woven of nought but Praises and thanks on our part, of Respect and Submission on Artaban's; and after the Queen had amply declared him her resentments, and was turned from him to receive some of the principal Commanders among the Parthians that were come with Artaban to render their duteous respects to her Majesty, taking hold of that occasion: You have entirely captived our Faith, Generous Artaban said I, to your future promises, and taught us to believe, that the world has not difficulty capable to retard their effects: but if we be indebted to the brave performance of your word, the King of Media's violation of his has more obliged us, since if he had strictly observed his engagement to you in our behalf, we only should then have thanked him for our liberty, and his ingratitude had not blindly given us Artaban with it. Artaban, said I, whose valour disposes the destiny of Empires, and who from that grovelling and deplorable estate to which he had once reduced it, has lifted that of the Parthians to its proper sphere, and made it shine again with the same lustre, which his invincible arm had once sequestered. Artaban returned an answer to these words with a flexure of his body as low as my foot, and methought received them with a peculiar air in his looks, that would not have worn that destruction to any other person, making so many witnesses of all the actions and syllables that parted from him, that the glories he had gathered from the honour of his employment in our service, did far outvalue all those advantages we had reaped from the effects of his valour. Madam, said he, I could not miss of success in so just an enterprise, and the interests of so divine a person as yourself, were too dear to the Gods to be left to the disposition of men; by these invisible blows they struck in your quarrel, the King your Father's arms have obtained the victory, upon the injurious detainer of so precious a liberty, and 'tis your interest in heaven that rebated the points and edges of your Enemy's Swords against which no humane power is capable of resistance: 'tis to those Madam, (if the gain be estimable) and not the fault of Tigranes, that you owe your Artaban, and such as he is, you are more indebted to him for yourself, than all reasons and resentments that anger, ambition, or any other motion could infer to arm in the quarrel.  
He broke off at these words, with a fear that his tongue had been too livish, and indeed had I seriously examined them, I should doubtless have found out something that tasted of too much boldness.  
From that day he scarce ever discontinued his attendance upon us, at such hours as modesty might admit him; and his expectation of some farther orders from the King, to whom he had sent an express of what had passed, with a desire to know how he would have him to steer his course, made him a plausible pretence for his assiduity.  
In the mean time the Convoy came back that he had sent to guard the King of Media, and the Gentleman that Commanded it, presented me a letter that Tigranes had given him at their parting, which the Queen beckoned to me to receive, and having opened it in the presence of her and Artaban, who was then in our Chamber, I read these words:  
TIGRANES King of the Medes to Elisa Princess of Parthia  
I Have paid for your liberty to the double loss of mine own; and the same destiny that made you my Prisoner for a time decreed me yours for ever: The rigour of my fate has rend me from you, but I shall quickly supersede the decree, and vanquish the distance betwixt us, and you shall see me return in the Van of 100000 men, tod emand you of my cruel Enemies that made the divorce betwixt us. I shall not enter your Father's Territories to such an Enemy as an injured Lover, in that quality, they that hide you behind their bucklers will not find it an easy task to resist me, and those powers that might possibly retard others, will prove too feeble to oppose my design of your reprisal.  
The Queen listened to this language without Emotion, nor did it much uncalm the quiet of my thoughts: but Artaban heard it with a grand impatience, and gave me notice by the blood that hastily leapt into his face, how deeply he thought himself concerned in the Menaces and design of Tigranes, as well in the quality of a lover as an Enemy. Perhaps, said he, with an action that expressed a great deal of anger, he may invade your Dominions to his own confusion, and the two qualities he speaks of may prove equally fatal to his Life and Love: that I think we shall be able to secure ourselves from the angriest part of his Menaces, and if the King's orders do but hold proportion to my hopes, it may be we shall give him so hard a task to defend his own Country, as will save him the labour of bringing the Oar into yours.  
After this day we tracked more resentment and animosity against Tigranes than we had formerly discovered, and methought I read a kind of impatience in all his actions to strangle his Rival's design of my reprisal: his behaviour was superscribed with such visible contents of meaning, as my suspicion could no way have wanted nourishment, but by the blindness of my understanding; and though the memory of my debt to what he had done for us, shut my eyes upon a part, yet I found it impossible to learn an entire ignorance of what his ill-assured and distempered regards, his frequent sighs and discourses, mingled with a fear that nature never planted in his heart, would have forced upon an intellect, though shorter and shallower than mine; this imperfect knowledge gave me a real displeasure, and though Criticism itself could have found out nothing in the person of Artaban that was not very amiable, and the importance of his service had made him yet a better title to my esteem, than his outward accomplishments could challenge; my haughty opinion, that as that Man whose birth was so vastly below mine own, could not make me the mark of his amorous ambition, without the sin of presumption against my quality, nor make me fear to be offended in that nature, that I could not glance a thought upon his boldness without much disquiet.  
while I floated in these uncertainties instead of these orders we expected from the King, he came himsef to Nisa, in part persuaded to that voyage by the necessity of his affairs which called him upon the Frontier, and partly by the desire he had to see us after so long a Captivity; I need not relate the order of his arrival, nor trouble you with the account of every single passage to our interview, let it suffice you Madam to know, that we found in his Caresses, all that we could hope from a better nature than his, that all his actions and discourse assured us of as much tenderness as a Wife and Daughter could expect: but if a Husband and a Fathers love made the apparent impression of themselves in his behaviour, he forgot not what he thought was due to the grand service that Artaban had done him, and after he had treated him in the presence of his chief Nobility, as a person of extraordinary merit, as the Tutelar Genius of Parthia, and as a young Mars, whose unlimitable valour had propped and recruited his reeling Empire, he openly protested that he had not a recompense within reach of his power, was fit to measure with his merit, that the gift of a great part of his Estate would satisfy but a part of the debt that was owing to his admirable virtue; with such professions as these, he daily made him the subject of his discourse in our presence, and during his residence there, he heaped more honours upon him, than either he was accustomed to render to the most considerable persons of his Court, or the nearest Princes of his blood; but he was loath to stop the current and career of his Victories, and receiving intelligence that the King of Media, was raising Forces with a hasty diligence to re invade his Dominions, he gave a loose to the fierce impatience of Artaban, and adding a better part of those Troops to his Army that had followed him to Nisa, he commissioned him to invade Media, openly declaring that he hoped for that Crown by his valour.  
Artaban, whose particular interests daily whetted his asperity against Tigranes, gladly received this order, and prepared for his speedy departure, while we did the same for ours, to return with the King to the Capital City of Parthia.  
The day of our separation arrived, and with it the assurance of what I had so carefully fled the knowledge. Artaban, who had all this time kept his tongue from blabbing the secrets of his heart, was now resolved to throw away the mask, and cast the die; his great heart had hatched an opinion of himself, that made him believe he needed neither shake nor blush at the declaration; however, he roused all the courage that nature had given him to back his attempt, and preparing himself (as he since confessed) with more resolution than ever he called to his assistance, at the assault of the greatest danger, he came to take his leave of me, with a face that showed me the contents of something extraordinary,  
I gave him a particular audience in my Chamber, and when he saw my Woman withdrawn to such distance, as they could not overhear his discourse: Madam said he, if I were not now to part upon an expedition, from which my return is yet in the bosom of the Deity, wherein I shall possible encounter dangers, with jaws wide enough to swallow me, I would still make the consideration of what you are, and my fear to disoblige you (a passion that I never felt from any but you) to keep those thoughts at home, that now are about to break their bridles; had I ventured to give them this liberty, while yours was under straint, you might have conjectured that I borrowed the boldness from your bowed conditino, and apprehend, that I treated her in some kind like a Captive, to whom I ought not to have suffered the escape of one single regard, that was not tempered with a profound submission; but now (Madam) that you are free reinstated by the bounty of Heaven, in your birthright glorious, safe within the arms of your great Father, and that I must leave you in a sad uncertainty of ever seeing you again, think it not strange, if by a power which I find it impossible to disobey, I am forced to declare that,— Hold Artaban, said I, intercepting his progress, hold, for heaven's sake, hold, and do not give me cause to complain against you, after the injunction of so many reasons to commend your services; I would not prevent you in this manner, if I were not prepossessed with a high esteem of your merit, and therefore fearful to impair it by any provocation of resentment against you. If the presumption of my language, said he, has made me criminal, I will strive to wash away my fault with the blood that I am going to shed for your interest; and when I see that proves too little to take out the stain, I will amend my enemy's defect with my proper hand, if there cleaves so great a guilt to my offence in professing myself yours, to demand that reparation; do not arm yourself at this declaration with an anger that cannot be less than fatal to me; I know 'tis faulty, but I know 'tis only made so by the meanness of my birth, and the weak estate of my fortune. Madam, my birth is noble, 'tis all I can say of it, and my fortunes are now so low, but I hope my sword may one day raise them to an equal pitch with theirs that openly pretend to the glory of your service: First Courage and Virtue should lead the way, than Crowns must follow to deserve you; and Madam I will seek for Crowns before I vow the boldness to demand you; To that of Parthia which you are born to, I'll join the Median Diadem, and then the accession of others shall strengthen my claim, which perhaps may obtain my pardon of the King himself, since he cannot choose but consider, that to adore Beauty and Virtue in their supremest degree, is universally common to Mankind. I shall only than profels my boldness, when my service shall dispose the King to suffer it; and I will never plead my cause at the tribunal of your bounty, before I have made them my powerful Advocates; with this design Madam I leave you, but whether criminal or innocent in your thoughts I dare not know, for because the execution depends upon my life, I will not stay for my sentence from your mouth, since if you doom me to die, it will take away the glory of my future services.  
Artaban was as good as his word, and finishing his discourse with a profound reverence; he acquitted my Chamber without staying for an answer; indeed he might easily do it, for the confusion I took from his words had rendered me so unresolved how to shape him a reply, as it gave him more time than he needed to avoid the storm by a timely retiring.  
I stayed in the place where he left me, strangely stung with the words he had uttered ' and I know not how to represent you my condition, since I was never so posed with myself as at that present.  
The difference between Artaban and I, made me receive this hardy address as a mortal offence, and regarding myself as a Princess that with reason enough (as well in respect of my great and illustrious Ancestors, as the puissance and vast extent of the King my father's Dominions) might dispute place with the greatest Ladies upon earth, I could not endure the thought that a man of so mean a descent, who had no other dignities but what he held by the tenor of his Sword, would dare to paint me his passion, without resigning the regency of myself some angry thoughts, that made me regard him as an Enemy: And yet the obscurity of Artaban's extraction, could not so darken the remembrance of what he had done for the King my father and me, nor divert my remark of his marvellous qualities that shined in their double sphere of mind and body, without confessing to myself, that if I weighed him without partiality against any Sceptered Heir, and put all his great acts into the balance, he would be found but a few grains the lighter: and I will not scruple to confess, since to you Madam, I am this day resolved none of my thoughts shall wear a cover, that a person so refined from the common metal of mankind as Artaban, had produced something extraordinary within me; and though truth will allow me to say, that I had yet defended myself from what you shall love, yet I could not hold up my heart from leaning to something beyond good will. The sense of his presumption, the memory of his services, and the kindle of a little inclinations to his person, filled the scales on both sides, and subjected my spirit to the vicissitude of several passions and motives that sometimes blew up the flames of anger, and sometimes put them out again as they were swayed by the successive usurpations, and indeed I found myself too weak to settle any thing in my soul with stability.  
These resolutions might easily be read in my visage, and my Governess Urinoe (who by the discreet care she had taken of my education, and the affection I had always born her from my infancy, had gotten a very great influence upon my spirit) approaching to me, and perceiving me sit as it I had lost all motion, with my head leaning upon one of my hands, and my face covered with the other, with all the signs of a melancholy war in my thoughts, and having before precisely observed both mine and the actions of Artaban at his parting, she quickly found the disease by comparing the Symptoms, however desirous by the help of that liberty and privilege I used to allow her, to draw a clearer discovery from mine own confession. Is it not true Madam, said she, that you are now a little in Choler, and that Artaban upon the brink of his departure, has broken the seals of some secret thoughts that till then were wrapped up in silence? 'Tis true said I, he has boldly thrown down the pale of that respect which was due from him to his Master's daughter, and by this piece of insolence has put me into such an angry humour against him as you would do me a pleasure to go carry him a Command in my behalf to come no more in my presence. If I commit that fault, replied Urinoe, may the Gods never pardon me: no Madam, I am to reduable to the brave Artaban for the blood he has ventured for you and yours to receive a Commission so destructive to his quiet, and let me die presently at your foot, if instead of affronting his felicity, I do not raise all the power I have in the world to procure it. Is it so Mother, replied I, with an air that expressed more anger, is it after this manner that you take my part? I do not think Madam, answered Urinoe, that there is any such vast difference betwixt Artaban's party and yours, as passion would imply, and I cannot believe I shall incur the crime of disobedience by endeavouring to disarm that indignation you have conceived against him. How, Urinoe said I, will your discretion give you leave to dispute the justice of my anger, when you consider that he he is Artaban, and I am the Princess Elisa? His virtue and desert, replied Urinoe, aught to place him better in your estimation, than if his veins were channels to the most illustrious blood in the world: and I cannot choose but avow, that they have wrought so powerfully upon me, as I am less repugnant to serve him in what relates to you, than the greatest Prince upon earth.  
After this she ran headlong upon the praises of Artaban, from thence amplified the excuses of her own offence, and took such persuasive strains in his behalf, as a dimmer Intellect than mine, might easily have perceived, how deep a character the qualities of that man had made in her opinion. I cannot think it strange, (said the Queen Candace, interrupting her) since the description you have made of Artaban, has drawn me so powerfully to his party, as I must ever conclude my best arguments well spent to excuse the faults of so brave a man. If your eyes, as well as mine, had been witnesses to his worth, replied Elisa with a sigh, you would see more cause to defend his attempt: but I am well pleased to find you of his opinion, and I shall need a large part of this indulgence you have instructed me to hope for, when you have once understood the sequel of my story.    

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA: OR Love's Masterpiece. PART III.  
LIB. IV.  
ARGUMENT.  
Artaban overthrows Tigranes, and besieges him in the same City, where the Queen and Princess were Prisoners. The King of Media is taken by his Rival, and released again in exchange for Elisa and her Mother's liberty. He gains two signal Victories beside. Makes an entire conquest of Media, and drives Tigranes to seek refuge, and beg aid in the Courts of Cappadocia and Cilicia. He is triumphantly received by Phraates. Boldly solicits his love suit to Ehsa. Is abetted by Urinoe, and at last wins her consent to demand her of her Father. He receives a rude repulse from Phraates, which provokes hot words, and they procure his banishment Media is invaded, and reconquered by Tigranes' assistants. Peace concluded upon his marriage with the Princess Elisa. Artaban loses his labour and liberty by endeavouring to hinder it. His strange adventures upon the Sea. Elisa is delivered from the Pirates, and brought to Alexandria.  
ARtaban, having taken his leave of the King, began to march towards Media, and the next day we parted from Nisa to remove to Cassi●pe, where the King frequently passed his Summer, and where the Court was commonly the fairest, and better accommodated than in any other City of the Kingdom.  
The Image of Artaban, as well in our Voyage, as after our arrival, was perpetually before my eyes; but my fancy, according to the alternate rule of anger and affection, received it in very different forms, and the pique I took against him for a crime, whereof my haughty spirit at least pretended him guilty, had no such absolute authority in my soul, but it still had a loving enemy to combat; I could not wake the remembrance of the declaration he had made me, without a flat falling out with his audacious enterprise; and yet when I called to mind the grandeur of his actions, the importance of his services, and the constellation of his excellent qualities both of mind and body, it abated the swellings of my heart, and softened my resentments,  
Can I do less than hate that arrogant wretch, would I say, that flies at an Eagles pitch from a common nest; that unknown thing, nay possibly that Cottage Creature, who because he has borrowed greatness from his Master's bounty, thinks he may justify his ambition in taking his aim at me; Taking his aim did I say? he is yet a thousand times more criminal; had he only sinned in thought, and covered his passion with a respective silence, it had been pardonable; but to breathe his fancies flames at the mouth, to declare his love in clear and intelligble terms, and all this to the Princess of Parthia; 'tis a boldness, 'tis an insolence that cannot be justified. Discretion and Honour require it, that I banish the presumptuous and inconsiderable man from my sight and memory for ever; and if he crowds into my presence against my will, that he be received as an idle insolent, who by his foolish ambition has made himself worthy of my eternal scorn and enmity.  
Such thoughts and words as these, were the eldest Children of my anger; and at first they had the upper hand of all others that contested against them for whole days together; but in sequel, the softer passion got the victory, and some favourable Daemon to Artaban overthrew all the breast-works that my resentments had raised against him. And yet that audacious Wretch, would I say, that bird of a common nest, that borrows his greatness from his Master's bounties, is the very same that rescued the Crown of Media from the King my Father's hand, and since saved that of Parthia, from an evident ruin, 'tis he who scarce arrived at so many years as (upon the common account) would style him Man, has already traveled in his fame to the remotest parts of the World, by the death of 20000 and the winning of four or five signal Battles; and in fine, both by the throwing down and supporting of Empires, as if the Gods had only commissioned his sword to cut out their destiny: Say more Elisa, 'tis the same that saved thee from the violence of the Medes, to whose victorious Fortune thy Life and honour might have proved a double sacrifice; 'tis he that made thee the generous offer of thy liberty, to give it thee, exposed himself to all the darts that one great danger could throw at him, braved the indignation and puissance of a King, that then had all his fears and hopes in his custody; forsook his party to fight for thine; and after having re-assured thy Father in his tottering Throne, and untied the bands at the price of his blood, and the peril of his life, 'tis still the very same that is gone again to repeat his dangers, and improve the number of his victories for thy interests; nay, possible to make a Province of Media to the Parthian Crown, and after all this, 'tis he that may promise Empires to himself from his own valour that may lift him to an equal dignity with thine: to these considerations, Elisa, thou mayst add that he is a man in whose mind and body are jewelled all the admirable qualities that the skill and bounty of Heaven can enchase in a mortal person, a man whom to know and not to love is half a miracle, and a man in fine, to whom, in spite of thyself thou dost already feel in thyself, an extraordinary inclination.  
My revisal of this last thought brought forth a blush, and the shame of being conquered at these weapons, often called in choler again to take my part against him.  
While I was tossed upon the stream of these irresolutions that regarded Artaban, we received intelligence of the sudden and marvellous success of his arms, and had scarce heard that he was entered Media, when there came an express that told us, he had taken two of the strongest places upon the Frontier by assault, and just as he was setting down before the third, having learned that Phraates, one of Tigranes Lieutenants, was coming up with a puissant Army to relieve it, he had drawn off to go meet him, and since overthrown him in a battle with so great a slaughter of the Medes, as gave the rest cause to fear that the entire loss of their Country would succeed it. The King received this news with a marvellous satisfaction published his desire of an universal joy by all the exterior marks of his own, and powered out Artaban's praise, in the presence of all men with a greediness of gratitude: But in spite of all my arguments of anger against him, I could not choose but own a particular concernment in his happy success, and then it was that I clearly discovered to my own shame and consusion, that this man, with whom I thought I had been angry, instead of holding the place of an Enemy in my thoughts, had gotten possession of the dearest and most reserved hold about my heart, and I think the Gods themselves favoured his encroachment; for the same night that this news arrived, after I was gotten to bed, my Governess feigning some pretence to stay in the Chamber when the rest were retired, and coming to my bed's side when the Coast was clear with a wax Taper in her hand; Well Madam, said she, what reception have you given the news from Artaban, and how do you relish that success which conducts you to the Crown of Media? I can do no less than rejoice as I ought, said I, at such events as advance the fortune of our family, and I quadrate mine with the King my father's resentments, who from Artabans' victory reaps a grand assurance of his own estate, and growing hope to increase it by the spoils of his Enemies: and do you not feel, replied Urinoe, (you that are the great wheel of all actions, for whom alone he lavishes his blood and life) a gladness that entirely depends upon itself, and singly grows up from its own root? Ah Mother, said I, turning away my head to the other side with a troubled look, will you eternally torment me with the memory of that man whose ambitious flames have kindled my disdain and anger? And instead of helping me to disdain against his presumption, must I ever be persecuted with the grandeut of his services, and the merit of his person? If I could hold my peace, replied Urinoe, without ingratitude and injustice, I would leave him out of my discourse to please you, but all the care and complacence required in a servants fidelity, cannot make me blot out the remembrance of a man to whom I owe all for the love of you, and whom I would not love, but because you ought to do so. Sure Urinoe said I, you have lost a large part of your discretion, and I find of late so little reason in your words, as I know not whether innocence will allow me to listen any longer to them: You may pass what judgement you please upon me, replied Urinoe, with a serious visage, but if you tax me with imprudence for so slight a cause, I fear you will judge me à convicted fool, when I have told you that I lately received a Letter from Artaban directed to your hands, with an engagement of all the credit, that my care and your goodness has given me in your thoughts to persuade your perusal. Be not astonished, Madam, pursued she, remarking some amazement in my looks, I would sooner have taken my death than this employment, if I thought it might justly offend you, and you would wrong me to believe that my own life is not less dear to my desires than your interests: 'Tis true Artaban is no Prince, but his virtue has already raised him above the greatest, and will doubtless place him in a rank that shall overtop the best of those that ennoble that title: Besides, Artaban adores you with the same respect that he owes the Gods, Artaban fights for you, and possible in shedding the last drop of his blood at this moment in your quarrel.  
Urinoe followed this discourse with a long train of other arguments, armed and authorised with so much power, derived from my education, as in spite of all my repugnance she forced me at last to read Artaban's Letter, though I think she had not gotten so cheap a victory upon my resolution, if the treachery of my proper inclinations had not aided her, and my own desires struck as many blows as her persuasions in the combat.  
Madam, I have made you a confession, which then I would not own to Urinoe, and to that end endeavouring to possess her with a belief, that to her alone Artaban was indebted for all the obligation, I suffered her to approach with her candle, and she opened the Letter wherein I read these words.  
Artaban to the Princess Elisa.  
I Know not, Madam, what success I ought to expect from the continuation of my faults, since my fate enforces me still to offend you, and if fortune be so kind to conduct these blots to your bright eyes, and so noble to lose a few moments upon the object, you will read an unhappy obstinacy in my crime, that may provoke a heavy doom from your anger: yet, Madam, I have no power to repent it; and though I were sure my ruin were infallibly tied to the perseverance, I would run with a greedy haste to embrace it as my last felicity. To die for you is a thousand times more glorious than to put on laurel for the conquest of Media, or make the spoil of Asia wait upon the triumph, and the victories I may win for the King your Father, must ever yield precedency to the honour of being vanquished by you. I know you cannot choose but blush at the conquest, nor rank a private man without shame among your slaves, since 'tis the duty of all the Kings upon earth to submit to you, and wear your chains as their greatest ornament; but we have no power to fight against the force of destiny, and as mine has not suffered me to fasten my regard upon any thing that is not above me, so yours can let you see nothing that is not as much below you: you will hardly find an equal to yourself if you seek it among men, and if that poverty of merit in mankind be suppliable in part for default of a full proportion, it can be no other way, than by such thoughts of respect and veneration as mine, I know the present pitch of my short winged fortunes, disgraces all the proof I can give of any zeal to serve you, but possible the Gods may one day permit me to put longer feathers to their opinions, and strengthen my plea to that privilege by supplement of virtue which my birth has refused me. In the mean time, Madam, do me the grace to receive my services without aversion, and suspend your judgement, which doubtless by the vote of your first resentments could not choose but be rigorous, till the sequel of my actions may better inform you, whether justice will enjoin you to sign my pardon or pronounce my condemnation.  
This was Artaban's Letter, which at the solicitation of Urinoe I read distinctly, and though I found some cause to be vexed at the process of his boldness, yet I had not reason enough left me to confute the reasons that induced me to pardon him: Urinoe read more than half a confession of this in my visage, and willing to complete her discovery, after she had taken up the letter, which I had thrown by with a regardless action. Ah! Madam, said she, why will you do this violence upon yourself, do you taste any sweetness in this constraint, or does my fidelity begin to be suspected? is it to me that you ought to disguise your thoughts, and do you believe that you hazard any thing, in telling me that you are not willing to hate Artaban.  
These words spread the Crimson livery of shame upon my cheeks, and covering the blush as well as my hand would do it: Urinoe, said I, you have almost put me past the power of answering, and if customary freedom did not give me a larger Commission of boldness with you than other persons, I should be dumb to discourse; 'tis true mother, continued I, throwing my arm about her neck, and blushing with a deeper dye, that I have prized Artaban's services at their full value in my thoughts, and 'tis as true that I do not hate his person; but these resentments (the secretest that ever dwelled within the closure of my breast) which I strip naked to you as to my mother, have not usurped so far upon my reason to force an approbation of his rashness, they have got my consent to suffer, and let it pass with impunity, which doubtless, I should not have done, had I examined his fault with rigour, but they shall never soften me to so fond an indulgence as will deserve a severe construction, and I am resolved to regulate all my actions to so strict a Decorum, as you shall never see the loss of that care you have taken to mould me after the model of virtue. I fear not that, replied Urinoe, your virtue has beamed itself so clearly through all the passages of your life, as I shall always believe you capable of conquering more pressing and passionate motions, and let the Gods never give me leave to demand any thing in his favour, that may expose you to the least shadow of reproach: the sum of my desires is, that you would pluck a man from the precipice of despair whom necessity declares so useful to you and yours, one who has put you so deeply in his debt, and a man whose uncommon qualities may easily excuse all the impressions he has given you to his own advantage; do we know for what the Gods have reserved him? those dawnings of glory that shined from the first actions of the greatest men, were never so bright and beautiful as his, and if Fortune can learn so much justice to make his virtue her favourite, he must needs tread the Stairs of success to such a conspicuous height as may give the King your Father reason to desire his alliance.  
Ah mother, said I, (too well pleased with this language) since you will enforce me to avow my weakness, to you I will no longer scruple to confess, that if Artaban were lifted to a degree, which might make him a claim to the King's consent, I should despise the largest Thrones and the longest Sceptres upon the Earth for his sake.  
Urinoe, highly satisfied with her Victory, and desirous to advance her design upon my yielding heart, after some discourse (which consisted all of reasons, coined on purpose to confirm me in those thoughts) she attempted to prevail for an answer to Artaban's letter, but of that I cut off her hopes by so firm a resolution, as she durst not press me any further: a few days after, with the news of a second victory, I received another Letter from Artaban, which Urinoe caused me to read, as she did the former, and indeed there came no expresses from him, but still gave account of the taking in of some City, or some considerable blow he had given the Enemy.  
I confess the renown of his actions, the price of his services, and the solicitations of Urinoe began to work very powerfully upon me, and in spite of the resistance I could arm in mine own defence, all these considerations usurped such a Magistry upon my Spirit, as in fine, I sadly perceived that I was now no longer Mistress of my liberty; when awake he was always the Argument of my thoughts, nay, my very sleeps would not defend me from his importunate, and yet agreeable image, that was ever presenting itself to my sickened fancy, and I beheld Artaban with the optics of my Soul, not only as covered with the Laurels of so many victories, but as Artaban, whose personal accomplishment even under a helmet, did a thousand time outvie the beauties of young Achilles, as Artaban stellified with all those graces that are fit to make a feminine heart their quarry; and in fine, as Artaban, who, (at least if my judgement mistook him not) loved me as much, nay above his own Soul; how oft have I waked from these Dreams, when the warm blood leapt into my visage, chased thither by the remembrance, that I had suffered my imagination to stray so unbecoming; how oft have I rowed against the stream of those motions with a real anger, which I could not approve, and for some moments enforced myself to hate the same thing, that my fears informed me was grown too dear to my desires? a thousand and a thousand times have I tried to take up arms in my own defence, by seeking for something in the person of Artaban, that deserved my contempt, and a thousand times have I shot reflections at that abscurity of his birth that had he known what pains I took to find him guilty, it might justly have edged his resentments against me; the daily discourses upon his repeated gallantry, that my vigilant ear gleaned from the Parthian Nobility, and the King himself, who every moment exalted the obligations he had to his valour, struck themselves home to the Centre of my breast, and at those times, if a regardful eye had perused my visage; it would not have miss the discovery of such changes there, as might easily have given the intelligence, that I did not slightly concern myself in his praises.  
To complete my overthrow, I received a letter from Artaban, (which aided by a predisposal of my heart in his favour, touched me more tenderly than all the rest) and with it there arrived an express to the King which told him, that within three days march of Praaspa, the Metropolis of Media, Artaban in a great battle, had defeated Tigranes with such an Universal overthrow, as all the Army was cut in pieces without hope of resource, and the King himself, having hardly escaped in person, was gone (as the common belief had voiced it) either to seek for sanctuary or succour in some neighbouring Court, that the succeeding day to this victory, all the adjacent Cities had sent their keys to Artaban, who received them in the name of the King of Parthia, and was since marched towards the Capital City, with a firm belief, that they had not courage enough left to shut their gates, or man their works against him.  
At the news of these important successes, Phraates passionately celebrated his fortune with a joy that equalled it, of which he openly exposed some clear proofs, by the Bonfires he caused to be made in the greater part of his Cities, and the honours he decreed for Artaban, to whom he erected Statutes with inscriptions so glorious, as they might well have contented the most boundless and irregular ambition. The Letter I then received from Artaban which Urinoe caused me to read as the rest, I think showed me these words.  
Artaban to the Princess Elisa.  
THe Medians will quickly be your Subjects, and there remains so little to do, to complete the conquest of that Crown, as within a few days, I may promise it without presumption; till now I have fought as a man whose life was not unuseful to your family, but since it is become Criminal in your thoughts, and every day increases the guilt, I will henceforth combat, as one that hath nothing to lose that is dear unto you, and try to wash away with blood, the offence I have committed, since there is no other way to take our the stain; may the Gods favour me so much as to make that reparation great enough to appease your anger, and I call them all to witness, that I will think myself gloriously rewarded, for all the public and particular services I have rendered you, if you will only let me carry the satisfaction to my tomb, that you did not hate me.  
No Artaban, said I, when I came to the period of these words, I do not hate you. I scarce uttered this before Urinoe, when she saw the marks of Shame and Confusion start into my visage I had not only called back my words, if it had been possible, but even those very thoughts that hatched them, but I knew 'twas vanity to hope it, and Urinoe gladly taking advantage of the compassion and tenderness that my weakness betrayed for the sufferings of Artaban, passionately pressed me for answer to his Letter, she pursued my flying denials all that day without overtaking them, but the following, she continued the chase so hotly, as at last I was wearied to a yielding; a long luctation with myself, before I could vanquish my repugnance to an action which my reason told me deserved a severe censure; but in fine, as if I had suborned reason to excuse desire, at last I believed I had found a way to reconcile my scruples to Urinoe's will, and my own inclination; and I thought I had so nicely studied my reply, as might pose a Stoic to fasten a just censure, or Artaban any advantage upon them: at last after a tedious choice and rejection of words, I made my paper speak in these terms.  
The Princess Elisa to Artaban.  
I Should sin against my quality, thus by exchanging paper, if a just motive did not oblige me, and I thought not in Conscience, whatever that action amounts to, is due to the Deserts of your services. Heaven is my witness that before your offence was committed, my estimation (bating those persons that gave me being) bestowed not a larger share of itself upon any person on earth than Artaban, nor should I have put a shorter date of those resentments, than my proper life, if the Cognizance of yours had not cancelled them: I am sorry to tell you, that your actions oblige me to hate you against my inclination; I neither misprise your person, nor set too cheap a rate upon your virtue, and I could spend some wishes (those not faint ones) that it were paralleled by all those requisites that might Authorise your ambition: but since the Gods refused you that favour, learn to stoop the soarings of your Courage to the humble pitch of your Fortunes, and appease my just displeasure by removing the cause of it.  
I was very well pleased with the success of my invention (as my ignorance then styled it) and I thought I had woven my words with skill enough to secure my reputation: but I had not examined them so strictly to suspèct the satisfaction they gave to Artaban, who found it by a more cunning construction, than I thought they would have born.  
In effect, he discovered which way my inclination bend itself, through the Cobweb disguise of my expressions, which augmented his boldness, and raised his heart to such hopes, as I did not think I had given him; when he received it, he was already gotten within the walls of Praaspa, and his word had then so little work to make himself absolute master of Media, as in less than too months' time, he finished the entire subjection of that large Kingdom to the Parthian Sceptre.  
In the mean time the infortunate Tigranes, was retired to the King of Cappadocia, and Cilicia, his Allies whom he endeavoured to arm for his Interests. That miserable Prince then felt by a sad experience, how deeply the Gods tasted ingratitude, and how unjustly we suffer Pride, the bastard of Prosperity, to cancel the memory of a benefit.  
While he solicits his friend's assistance, to re-seat him in the Throne of his Ancestors, Artaban who had made an entire conquest of his Country, received the Oath of Allegiance in Phraates name, of all those whose losses had enlarged his Sovereignty, placed Garrisons in the most considerable Cities, and ordered all things else, as discretion and necessity decreed it. He then saw himself gloriously acquitted of his promise, and began not without the appearance of reason, to fortify the hopes he had conceived; the King my Father, who yet kept it living in his thoughts, that he was reduable to his valour for a puissant Kingdom, was grown very studious of his own power, (though I think in vain) to find whether it had a reward within its reach, that might measure with his services; he was very willing to escape the guilt of a sluggish acknowledgement, and whether he feared his great Authority among the Medes, or was really desirous to see him, he invited him home to his Court in the most honourable manner, that gratitude could invent; I remember the Letter he wrote him spoke much to this purpose.  
Phraates King of Parthia to Artaban.  
I Am double indebted to your valour, for the conquest of a puissant Kingdom, and the conservation of that which is my birth right, and by the sole virtue of your invincible arm, I reign over the Medes and Parthians; but neither of these Crowns can give me any true taste of happiness without you, and I can never think the authority truly mine, till you have a share of it; come a way then my dear Artaban, to receive the recompense I have prepared you: 'tis true, I possess nothing that is not below your merit, but I pretend to go as far in requital, as the dearest and most precious things I have in the world will carry me.  
Artaban received this Letter with a grand satisfaction, and though he had a near guess at the King's intention, who was really jealous of his power among the Medes, the passionate desire he had to see me, only lent him leisure to despise that consideration, as possible it would have taught him to trample upon all others that might have offered him cause of discontent. At length he began to think (as we are all too prone to flatter ourselves with the fruits of our own wishes) that the King in his promise of the dearest, and most precious thing he had in the World, could mean no other than his Daughter; and curiously poising the weight and worth of his services, he found them tall enough to over-top all other rewards but that; fraught with these hopes, he completed his Garrisons in places of most importance, and leaving the command to him that he thought was worthiest, he left Media behind him only with such troops as were necessary to guard his person, entered the Parthian territories, and by large days marches, bend his course with an amorous impatience to the City, where we then resided.  
Never was Triumphant Captain received into the walls of Rome with greater glory, nor did ever her seven proud hills echo with a louder acclamation and applause, than resounded in the Parthian Court at Artaban's arrival; the prime Nobility paid them honours, that seemed only due to the person of their King, and if the King himself did not treat him with the specious formality observed by Kings at their entertainment of crowned guests, at least he received and caressed him with every tender proof of affection, that might be expected by an only Son (though stored with all the excellent qualities of Artaban) from a paternal indulgence; in effect, he forgot nothing that could enter the thoughts of a studious Gratitude, to express itself with Elegance, and by his own example, obliged all the persons of honour in his Court, to a difference that offended his Modesty: I shall take pity of your patience Madam, by forbearing to amplify the single particulars that conduced to his reception, and content myself to tell you, that after the King had locked him along time within his arms, and held him a while in discourse of his own gallantry, he led him into the Queen's Chamber, where I was then present in a confusion of thought, a part of which cannot well be miss by your own imagination.  
'Tis true, that Artaban was not unwelcome to my eyes, and I cannot say that there was not some impatience mingled with my wishes to see him; yet it posed me to cast up a true account betwixt me and my honour, and I knew not what face to put on to his public accost, nor how to receive his particular visit; my judgement had not passed the vote, whether it behoved me to treat him as a man that had publicly served us, or privately offended me, and in this division of thoughts, I saw him enter the Chamber before I had time to settle their obedience to a resolution; Oh what a restless puissance did he bring in his looks, to disarm a part of my choler! how had a full years absence struck new graces about him, and added me-thought some Majesty to his mind; his behaviour (as my opinion weighed it) was handsome, and far more hardy than before: but I judged it so, by his deportment to the Queen, he quickly showed me reason to quit that opinion, when he came to salute me; and had any critical eye perused our faces at that account, it had made an easy comment upon our hearts. Urinoe told me since that, if Artaban wanted any courage or assurance in his looks, I appeared not less confused and astonished; nevertheless as he was naturally the boldest man in the world, he quickly recovered himself to an estate of repeating his civilities to the Queen, to whom the King, taking hold of his hand had presented him: See Madam, said he, behold the Man, that divided you chains asunder, and revenged your quarrel; now methinks it should not ask much pain to obtain your pardon for the Captivity he made you suffer, nor need we henceforth scruple to trust him with the care of your liberty and revenge. He has cleared the debt of his promise so nobly, replied the Queen, as he deserves the reposal of more confidence in himself, than in the entire puissance of a Kingdom; but you are not so deep in his debt, for the conquest of a Crown, as to those that acquired him, for you, from whom without ingratitude you cannot disavow that you received him.  
Phraates enlarged the Queen's discourse, with much more upon the same subject, which for a long time they bandied from one to another, scarce allowing Artaban the leisure to speak against himself, or his modesty the means to defend him from the oppression of their praises. In effect, he spoke but little that day, and after they had thus disposed of a large part of it, the King led him back with his own hand, still discoursing upon the Them: of his great acts, and when he had detained him a while longer by himself, at last he set him at liberty to retire.  
I was no sooner gone back to my Chamber, when Urinoe having nicely observed the appearance of some indigested and irresolute thoughts in my visage: Confess Madam, if you please said she, that the coming of Artaban has given you some inquietude, and you are yet divided in yourself, in what fashion you should treat him: If I treat him as I ought, answered I, my behaviour will neither suit his inclination nor mine, and I confess there is now a combat in my soul, that rends it several ways, with the greatest torture that ever fainted a female heart. Ah Madam, replied Urinoe, do not strive against the tide of your own inclinations, since they raise no War against your duty, and why do you refuse a few moment's audience to Artaban which he devoutly begs by my intercession? either permit him to justify or accuse himself at your feet and then if your reason says he has offended, you will find him readily disposed to pay you the forfeiture of his life for expiation; and if he thinks he is innocent, you cannot make yourself less, by giving him leave to prove it. Urinoe, said I (after I had taken some time to let my thoughts control one another) I know it is my duty to be deaf to your desires, and 'tis my weakness thrusts me headlong upon an evident occasion of blame, but I know how that I am not able to resist a motive that over-powers my resolution, and since you desire it with such unanswerable vehemence, you have leave to bring Artaban to morrow to my chamber.  
Urinoe extremely glad of the permission, the same Evening gave Artaban intelligence how prevalent she had been in her solicitation, and, as he told me since, he prepared himself for that visit, with a most passionate impatience. The next day I feigned a little indisposition on puropose to enjoin a privacy exempted from common visitants; nor could any think it strange that Artaban was then admitted to that privilege, if they rightly examined the credit that he carried at Court, or my particular engagements to the glories he had gotten to my advantage.  
He came with Urinoe who received him at my Chamber door, into my Cabinet, whither I was retired, and where I had seated myself upon a little Bed, having caused the Curtains to be close drawn before the windows, upon pretence of his headache, banishing as much of the tell tale light from the Closet as was possible, that Artaban might find it less easy to read the red letters of shame in my visage, for the fault I committed; indeed he entered with a grace and garb so becoming, as the skilfullest piece of detraction could have found nothing common about him; and though he carried less courage and confidence in his looks than ordinary, yet he had still the undefaced impression in his Port and visage, or something so great and lofty, as there was as much difficulty to misprise him for his face, as his actions; Pardon me, Madam, if I sin against the Majesty of your thoughts, by showing the easiness of mine: 'tis true, I was too hasty to disband the forces of my judgement, that should have resisted the batteries of his merit and affection, but they lost the field at the first appearance, all my anger presently tendered its arms, and I felt my reason in too weak an estate, to put a tongue to my resentments.  
All my attendants stayed in the Chamber, and Artaban perceiving no body present, but Urinoe and her Daughter, (the same you see with her here in my Chamber) who, he knew, deserved his confidence as well as her Mother, concluding he might safely take that liberty in their presence, threw himself at my feet so hastily, as I had neither time nor power to prevent him, and kissed the lower part of my robe, with an action wholly suppliant, and indeed only due for a meaner merit; but unwilling to let him stay in that condition, and recoiling a step or two from the place where I was; Rise Artaban, said I, if I were not prepossessed with too much indulgence to your offences, this prostrate action could not obtain their pardon.  
'Tis true Madam, answered Artaban raising himself, that I could look for no less than death, from any other judge but you, and I vow by all that's great and good, if your anger has prepared me a condemnation, to receive the fatal doom from your mouth, with as perfect a resignation, and obedience, as the pardon I beg at your hands; Believe it Artaban, you will not obtain that so easily, replied I, as your imagination flatters you, and perhaps your own opinion has not taken your crime at the full proportion, but I shall refer the punishment to yourself, in appealing to your judgement for the censure of your faults. My faults, replied Artaban, are worthy of all the pains that cruelty itself can invent, and would be utterly of any hope of pardon, if they could not borrow some excuse from the violence you have done me; 'tis not my will Madam, that has offended you, for the Gods are obliged to witness, I levied all the power against you that was likely to present any fruit to hope, from a soul capable of knowledge and reason; even in my greener youth, which you know is apt to take home objects to the heart before it has weighed them, I have endeavoured to fortify my soul against the force of nature, with an opposition under which I was like to fall your sacrifice, I saw my resolutions cowardly turn their heads in the combat against you, and though I called the knowledge that I ought to have of you and myself to reinforce them, at last I found an absolute impossibility, to hold up arms any longer; no Madam, it was no blind presumption that thrust me headlong upon this attempt, for I never found any thing in my person or services, that might authorise my boldness; 'tis a restless constraint that only labours to excuse me, and my thoughts are clad in all the whiteness and purity of truth, when I protest at your feet, it was only yourself that forced me to offend you. I should think myself very innocent of your faults, replied I, if by forbearing to cut them off in the infancy, I had not contributed to their nourishment, 'tis that has made me an accomplice in your crimes, and had I timely given the consideration of my birth and duty, the precedency of those services you have rendered us, I had happily prevented the sequel of a mischief, whereof I could not avoid the beginning: but since it is not in my power to revoke what is past, I will try to expiate a part of my error, by a better regulation of the future, and I hope my prayers will prevail with yourself to assist me, by changing your aims to some other object: No Madam, said Artaban, interrupting me, let me beg you will never hope my consent to that, if you desire my obedience, ordain me any thing but ceasing to adore you, since all your power and mine, are too weak to effect it, and 'tis as possible that I should live without a heart, as without a heart that is not entirely yours: But what are the thoughts you foster, answered I, or what design can you levelly at the King of Parthia's only Daughter, that may promise any hope of satisfaction? The same, replied Artaban, of rendering you what we owe the Gods, with a clearer submission, and a warmer zeal, than commonly composes those vows, that are twice a day winged for the starry Palace, the same of making your glory the mark, rule, and guide of all my thoughts, and actions, and the same of passing my life, or finding my death in the affairs of your service.  
But do you believe, added I, that the King whose will is the law of mine, does approve your intentions? or do you think that without his commission, I can keep an unstained duty, and still suffer them to run in the same channel? I will not say, replied the hardy Artaban, that such a Princess as Elisa can be merited by Man, and I know too well, that the gaining of a hundred Kingdoms, and the loss of a thousand such lives as mine, can infer but weak arguments to legitimate that ambition; but I think I may safely say, that if I rendered the services that Phraates has received of my sword, to any other King than him that is Father to Elisa, I should think I could not set them at a meaner value, than the honour to serve his Daughter; no Madam, 'tis the only disproportion betwixt yourself and me (leaving your birth out of the balance) and not betwixt my services, and the Royal dignity, that frames my presumption, and if my vast distance below your personal merits, were weighed up to an equality by your permission, I would learn to hope, that by greater conquests than that of Media, I might become considerable enough to the King your Father, to own a demand of that nature without blushes.  
In this discourse of Artaban, there was something that favoured of a great deal of arrogance, and yet that arrogance appeared so well placed in him, and indeed all things else speak so near an alliance, and so perfect a conformity to the grandeur of his courage, as instead of condemning, I felt an affectionate impulsion to augment my esteem, and I found myself utterly unable to hinder the confederacy of my words and actions, with the treason of my love.  
I avow, said I, that men of your condition may fasten very haughty and pregnant hopes to their courage, and if Justice guided the hand of Fortune in the distribution of her treasury, there could be nothing above you; I know not how the thoughts of Phraates agree with this opinion, but without his seal I can make no assurance, and, that once obtained, the conquest of my obstinacy will not cost you much trouble.  
I know not what rash fit of folly wrested these inconsiderate words from my mouth, I know they were followed at the heels by shame and repentance, nor did the artificial darkness cover my confusion from Artaban, who a little in pain to see it, fell once more at my feet, and kissing them with a transport of joy: Now fortune, said he, I bid defiance to thy malice, and since my divine Princess does vote me happy, I hope both Gods and men will declare themselves in my favour. He spoke much more to this purpose, which I only answered in blushes, for all the time he stayed after this, my shame would not let me speak in any other language, and I found it so impossible to recover my colour and confidence, as the discovery of it made him take his leave sooner than he intended; and he went out of my chamber with hopes, that till then he had never conceived.  
After that day, he directed all his actions to deliver me so many messages of Love, and paid me his respects in so amiable and obliging a fashion (or rather Madam, my weakness understood it so) as I was content to pull off the mask of my affection: but before I came to this confession, it cost him whole days, with abundance of pressing and passionate discourse, whereof the length releases my repetition: but when I had once vanquished that difficulty, he received some proofs of my affection, that showed my indulgence in a deeper tincture than the difference of our conditions would well permit, however they were still limited by rules, as strait as the steady hand of a virtuous resolution could draw them, he never obtained any favour from me, besides what the tongue and the eye delivered, and I strictly reserved myself to the King's disposal, without whose consent I always assured him his hopes were thrown away.  
I know Madam, that maugre all my circumspection, I was yet very culpable, in not taking the first kindle of affections, from the commands of those to whom my birth had submitted me; but I know too, that 'tis no wonder if extraordinary merit produce effects that are like themselves, nor need those hearts, that have held the fortress all their life, against a puny Siege, be ashamed of an overthrow, by such forces as vanquished me: Yes my dear Artaban, I love thee, and I should love thee yet much more than myself, if the Gods had left thee still amongst men; couldst thou come hither again from thy starry habitation, thou wouldst justify the affection I have for thee, and I cannot now disavow it with so little shame, as before I confessed it.  
The fair Princess was constrained to stop the current of her discourse, on purpose to make way for another, composed of some fugitive tears, that had newly broken over their Crystal banks in abundance, and after she had thus wept and sighed away some moments, wherein the fair Queen took occasion to sweeten her sorrows, with all the comfort that her pity could invent, she went on in this manner.  
Artaban was adored among the Parthians, and the prodigious things he had done for the interest of that nation, acquired him so much honour in the general esteem, as could not well be ascribed (and save Religion harmless) unto a mortal person, especially the King, who had reaped the fairest fruits of his glorious labours, and saw himself surely seated by his valour, not only in his own estate, but Master of one of the greatest Kingdoms in Asia, openly published his impuissance, to pay what was due to so great a virtue: of this he made a particular declaration the same day he was crowned King of Media, after the ceremony was ended, holding Artaban in his left hand: 'Tis of you great man, said he, with a loud voice, (for I have neither power nor will to disavow it) that I hold this puissant Crown, and I do here deeply protest in this assembly, by all that Religion requires to make a vow sacred and obliging, I have nothing so much my own to make it not totally at your disposal, nor can you name a demand of what price soever, that I will stay to consider before I grant it.  
Artaban heard these words with an excess of joy, and full of those forward hopes they had given him, turning to the King: Sir, said he, it beseems not Artaban, to misprise the favours of his great and bounteous Master, for which perhaps he will shortly take enouragement to put a name to his request; for though my service be light and trivial, yet I cannot be ignorant, that it is the custom of such great and magnificent Princes as yourself, rather to quadrate the reward to the largeness of their own hearts, than the merit of him that receives it.  
The King, who had not yet spied out the mark that Artaban aimed at, received his discourse with a very high satisfaction, and as till then he had been much troubled at his refusal of the greatest offices of honour, trust and profit in the Kingdom, the belief that he would now accept the proffered bounty which he hoped might pay the purchase of Artaban's service for the rest of his life, made him gladly fasten upon the words, and obliged him openly to repeat and confirm his promise: I confess Madam, that I received a great deal of contentment from my intelligence of this passage betwixt him and the King, and a few days after, was so easy to be overcome to a consent by Artaban's importunities, that so soon as the next occasion invited him, by adventuring to name his demand, he should try how the King stood inclined to the accomplishment of our wishes: this permission so exalted him, as he thought nothing impossible to his Courage and Fortune, and as Nature had always lodged in his breast a haughty opinion of himself, he was grown too credulous to suspect any imposture in these hopes that presaged a favourable event to his designs.  
He made choice of a time to hazard the attempt, when many conducing circumstances appeared to plead in his behalf, and just upon the first arrival of a rumour, that the Kings of Cilicia and Cappadocia, had each raised a numerous Army to play an aftergame in Tigranes' quarrel, he thought no time so critical, as that to attempt the King, nor none so promising (the approaching danger considered) to transform his hopes to assurance; besides the public engagement of the King's word, to grant him his desire without a limitation, he remembered the same expression he had under his hand, that he was willing to reward his services, with the dearest and most precious thing he had in the world, his hopes were yet better fortified against the menaces of fear by the public wishes, and he knew the Parthians daily talked without a whisper, that if their King desired to set an invincible guard upon his new acquest, and raise the power of his Empire to a prouder pitch of glory, than ever the greatest of his predecessors had flown it, Phraates could find no fitter expedient than Artaban's alliance by the marriage of his Daughter, since all the state policy he had, though it ransacked and rifled the whole world for a choice, could not find out a more valiant Defender for his People, nor a Successor whose Person and Government would be more agreeable to his Subjects; that the Male-line of the Arsacides being utterly extinct (the Prince Tyridates excepted, to whom they all knew Phraates would never leave his Crown, and the bastard Venones, whose pretences would be always like himself, illegitimate) he would either be obliged to create a Candidate for his Crown at home, or else contract an alliance with some neighbour King, and so run the hazard of Metamorphosing the Parthian liberty to a provincial servitude, which could not be less than insupportable to that warlike nation.  
When these popular discourses had once found the way to Artaban's ear, they quickly matured his resolution to a positive degree; in fine, he began to think that delay might do him injury, and concluded it unfit to stay till time might moderate the King's impatience to requite him, and the beauty of his brave acts had left its gloss in his memory.  
In the heat of those thoughts, (after he had once more begged my permission) he went one day to find out the King in the Palace Garden, where he was then walking with a train of his principal Nobility about him: the King received him with a very affable aspect, and after the exchange of some open discourse before all the company, at last (as his frequent use had made it a custom) he drew him aside from a particular Parley, and to that purpose making a sign to the rest, not to follow him, he passed into the next Alley leaning upon his arm, and began to entertain him with indifferent things, as chance and occasion offered to his thought.  
Artaban having allowed some time to a respective attention, and shaped such replies, as he knew were most agreeable to Phraates humour, at last grew desirous to change the Theme of their Discourse to a subject of more importance, and chase all the fear from his heart might discredit his design, by appearing in his looks and gesture; Sir, said he, how are your intentions now bend to dispose of us? has your judgement voted us useless for your future service? and are you content to sit quietly down, with the Crowns of Parthia and Media, when you have power enough at your beck to Master the greatest part of Afia? you understand that the Kings of Cappadocia, and Cilicia, have already raised forces in Tigranes' behalf, to wrest the Crown of Media out of your hands, and in outward appearance, your Majesty takes no care to prevent them: I beseech you Sir, give us leave to go meet them, before they force the unwelcome compliment of a hostile visit upon us, let me once more beg the honour and assignation of as many troops to my conduct, as I had for the conquest of Media, and suffer me for your interests, to carry the War home to those Prince's doors, that are coming beyond their limits in chase of their own misfortune; Sir, I do make you a promise of their ruin, to be paid in less than is requisite to take exact survey of their Provinces, and if I do not lay both those Crowns at your feet, before Time be two years older, blot out the name of Artaban from your memory, and call me Impostor.  
When Artaban spoke in this manner, the King regarded him with admiration, and instructed by the proofs of a fortunate experience, how capable he was to change his words into actions, he listened to the same language from him, as he would have done to an Oracle, which might have been interpreted from another mouth, as the effects of a vain presumption; and he had made use of some time to shape his reply, throwing his arm about his neck: Invincible Artaban, said he, or rather the Soul of valour, sent down to the Parthians as a favour from Heaven, for their security and advancement, I have so little reason to lay the blemish of a doubt upon your generous propositions, as I one day hope, by the virtue of your warlike arm, to check the arrogance of that proud Empire, and pluck the Eagle pinions that pretend to make the world their quarry, since you are resolved to unsheathe your sword against them, I hold the Cappadocians and Cilicians already defeated, and I assure myself with as much confidence of both those Diadems, as the Crown of Media, wherewith your hands impaled my Temples: but Artaban, to what do you reduce me? how unkindly you use me with this excess of merit? and how do you think I can reign over so many people without a bleeding honour, when I shall not reign but by the sole valour of a man that will take no reward at my hands? you have owned so little esteem of offices, treasures, and indeed of all things else, that others would greedily seek, as I have scarce the confidence to resolicite your acceptance of any gift, for fear of offending your courage; and will you never let me know, that though you refuse what my gratitude is able to offer as a requital, yet you will not disdain it as a badge of my inviolable amity?  
Artaban unwilling to let so fair an opportunity escape him, regarding the King with a visage less assured than before; No Sir, said he, I will not always dwell upon these terms of refusal, and if till now, by so long forbearing to ask a recompense, I have passed in your thoughts for a modest man, I shall doubtless now, by demanding one of too high a value, incur the censure of an insolent; Sir, you have that at your disposal, that carries a capacity, not only of rewarding my former services (they are too cheap and worthless to give me any right to so rich a salary) but indeed of overpaying (like a great and bounteous King) all the rest that I am preparing to render you, which I do not question shall wear the badge of more desert and importance, than any that preceded them. 'Tis true Sir, that Riches and Dignities are not rated by my courage as the world esteems them, but you have a treasure in your power, that may dazzle the boldest aspirer to a distrust of his ambition, and if I have rashly raised the wings of my desires that way, I do but take the just dimensions of your greatness, which I cannot offend, so weakly to ask any thing below it in proportion. In fine, Sir the Princess Elisa is the only fruit, the Centre, the Soul of my life, and all my happiness; and (if I may dare to call her so) the price of my Actions, if my ambition has broke the bounds of her proper sphere, and soars too high, I will strive to train my services to the same sublimity, and if Crowns be wanting to set off that virtue which your Majesty has honoured with so high an esteem, since necessity requires those ornaments to excuse my rashness, so long as any shall sit upon the heads of your Enemies, we shall have right enough to promise you their possession.  
Artaban in success of these words, put a knee to the ground before the King, a posture that he thought fittest to follow this hardy petition with, when he saw his face turn pale then presently over-flowed with a fiery blush, and in a few moments, by the continued rising of more clouds, grown the Omen of a following tempest.  
In effect, Phraates, the proudest and most haughty hearted Prince upon earth, was so deeply incensed at Artaban's demand, as he had much ado to suffer the memory of his services, to stop the natural course of his own inclination, which you know, by what you have already understood of his life, was ever prone to bloody and barbarous affections. However he made a strong assault upon himself to moderate the fierceness of his passion, and regarding Artaban with a face full of scorn, I cannot now wonder, said he, at your former proceedings, and I find you had reason to disdain Offices of so petty a concernment, since you had tied your pretences to my Daughter and my Crown. The boldness of that thought were worthy of an exemplary punishment, in any person that weighed less in my estimation than you, but the consideration of your services hath got your pardon, in hope you will take future care to pull some Feathers from the wings of your ambition.  
Artaban received this sudden change in the King's stile, like the blot of a thunderbolt, but his undaunted courage quickly came to his rescue from that astonishment, when repulsing the danger, to its own credit of such a surprisal, and clearing his looks of all the troubles that had newly invaded them: If the glorious reward I demand, said he, by a just computation, does overtop my services, they are above all things else that you are capable of giving; nor can I be so weak an Arbiter of my own desert, to lose the knowledge that I have added more to your grandeur, by preserving one, and planting another Crown upon your head, than the greatest of your Neighbour Kings can bring to outbid me for the title of your Son in-Law: nor would I be mistaken to foster any thought that I have, or can ever pay a valuable price of merit for so rich a Jewel; but Sir, if I be guilty, let me dare to say, yourself is an accessary, 'twas you betrayed me to these hopes, when you promised to pay my services with the dearest and most precious thing in the world. I thought, replied the King, that those favours, which I never placed upon any but yourself, might have challenged the Epithets of dear and precious enough in your thoughts, and so your own judgement saved you the labour of making so unlikely an explication of promises; 'tis from the valour of my own subjects that I hold the assurance of Parthia, and the conquest of my other Kingdom, and if your Sword hath carved me your share of victory, since I did you the honour to place you at the head of my Army, you have gotten glory, and gathered profit enough from that employment, to content any ambition that is less unreasonable than yours: Yes Sir, replied the fierce Artaban, the glory remains still in my possession, and with the advantage of obliging none but ingrateful Kings; 'tis all the fruit I can show of the scars I wear for you and the unfortunate Tigranes, from whose lofty crest I plucked down Victory, to perch her upon your Standards, tumbled him from his Throne, and chased him out of his Territories, and all this to put you in possession of a power to treat me ill in yours: those very Subjects to whose valour you are so deeply indebted, methought defended you but feebly, when the point of my sword was turned against them, and had not I lead them the way to glory, perhaps your old Subjects would never have subdued you new ones; Sir, I must know no fear to say, that this hand alone put both the Sceptres into yours, and the glittering spoils you enjoy of those victories, were purchased by my blood, and bought with the peril of my life: could just anger put my will to such an act, I might yet change the lot of War, and carry back the smiles of Fortune to your Enemy's party, and could I prevail with myself, to do as much for Tigranes, as I have lately done for you, peradventure I should find strength enough to lift him up again to that throne, from whence I pulled him for your interests: but the respect that I must ever preserve for the Princess Elisa, forbids me to carry any aid to her Father's Enemies, and for her sake alone, the Sword, which is yet keen enough to cut the threads of as many Parthians, as it has freshly done of Median lives, shall never more be drawn either for or against you.  
At these words he returned his back, and offered to leave the room, when the King staying him by the arm: Say no more, said he, with a furious look, that I am ungrateful for the services thou hast rendered me, and in lieu of that grand reward thy fancy hopes did aim at, receive thy life at the hands of my unmeritted mercy, which thy Insolence has forfeited to the sword of Justice: till now I never suffered reproach or menace from any mortal person, and thou alone hast put my patience to a proof, that would have been fatal to any other, and may at last be destructive to thyself, if thou dost not teach thy tongue more becoming language: King of Parthia, said Artaban, since thou hast refused me all that I thought worth the ask, I scorn to owe thee for either mercy or favour; and if thou think'st I can take my life as a gift at thy hands, know that I disdain to keep it at so base a ransom, and now methinks, as thy ingratitude has disfigured it, it looks so ugly, I would not receive it from thee, but as the greatest plague that Heaven can send me, coming from thee, I refuse, reject it as I did those offices and honours thou wouldst once have given me, and if thou hast not forgot what is past, thy concernments will instruct thee, to cut a man from the world, that wants no more than intention to ruin thee.  
The King heard not these last words; for so soon as he had vented his own passion, he turned his back to Artaban, and had left a pretty distance betwixt them, before he had done speaking. Artaban, rather dead than alive, by the King's example, bend his steps to another part of the Garden, and making choice of the most secret and untrodden Alley, that his sorrows could light of, he buried all his hopes and comfort in the cruelest thoughts that ever shook so great a spirit; this sad and sudden change in his condition, had like to have made his Executioner, and he often put a hand to the guard of his Sword, with a purpose to make a passage for his Soul to get out at; some few moments after, a furious Daemon of vengeance, turned the impetuous torrent of his thoughts against Phraates. And so long as that violent paroxysm of choler lasted, never did open anger, or secret malice, contrive a deeper revenge, than what tumultuous thoughts then urged against him: but the remembrance of Elisa, hung chains upon his passion and he had no sooner admitted the consideration that Phraates was her Father, but it turned the edge of his keenest resentment, and banished all that disobeyed his love: sometimes he prepared himself to go find Tigranes, and join intrigue with him for their common vengeance, feeding his hopes of that design, with the haughty opinion of his own merit; but these motions were quickly out of favour, when the memory of Tigranes' affection to Elisa came once to accuse them, and it less affronted his reason to seek a retreat in the remotest corners of the earth, than hide his head under the roof of his Rival: besides he remembered the promise he had made the King, never to bear Arms against my Father, and though his Conscience could have grown contented to dispense with the breach of that engagement, yet the fear he still kept to displease me, had too powerful an influence upon him to defeat that resolution: in fine, where ever his fancy moved a wing, she encountered new torments, and fresh causes of incurable vexation, and still as he sent his thoughts to hunt for comfort, they brought home no other quarry, than variety of ways to perish; Unfortunate Artaban, cried he, what dost thou longer here? get thee down into the shades in quest of that repose which the world denies thee, and contest no longer with thy implacable enemy, Fortune, whom thy evil genius has bribed to undo thee; the Sun has shined upon no part of the world where thou hast been, wherein thy felicity has not been affronted, and if the fates have favoured thee in War, the harvest of the victories have been taken in by other hands, the pain, the shame, and the despair, still stays with thee; to thee Earth is fruitful in nothing but ingrateful persons, every man to thee will either be a Tigranes, or a Phraates, and by such as those the Gods, whose wrath is the product of thy pride, have decreed to tread upon the neck of thy ambition: sure they are angry to see how audaciously thou dost raise thy courage above the birth they allotted thee; and if thou canst not humble it to equality, try to bond thy unjust pretences with a death that has only power to free thee from these calamities, to which thy aspiring desires will eternally expose thee: But why should I die, continued he, after a little breathing, before I see how the powers above will dispose of those punishments, which (how severely soever they have used me) are doubtless ready to drop upon the heads of these unworthy wretches? it may be they have made them their instruments to humble thee, without an approbation of their ingratitude, and the destiny that waits on that may instruct thee to hope a happy change in my Fortune, and a revenge of my Injuries: Did I say to hope, added he, what base fear shall usurp such power to pinion my endeavours, that I may not make it a certainty? Has the change of my condition sunk itself into my nature, and is that valour shrunk away from my assistance, that a few months since has caused such strange revolutions in too great Empires? May not I restore to the humbled, and possible repentant Tigranes, what I took from him, for the proud and disdainful Phraates, for Phraates a thousand times more ingrateful than the King of Media, and all this with a success so unconceived by the most pregnant hopes, as myself had enough to promise all that was performed; go then wronged Artaban, and once more draw thy Sword against this inhuman monster, whose Soul is sanguined with the ruin of all his nearest kindred, espouse thy quarrel with the loud cries of his Fathers and Brother's blood, whom he barbarously butchered; and if we have provoked the Gods, in lending succour to this Parricide, let us strive to appease those angry powers by carrying the sword and fire into the bowels of his Parthia, which in his quarrel too lately devasted the Median Empire: Oh my resolutions (continued he, after a little interval of silence) how just you are, and yet how faint and feeble, when Elisa enters the lists against you; with an invincible difficulty does my spirit feel (deeply stung as it is with the sense of my injuries) to frame the projection, or so much as shelter a thought that may displease my sovereign Princess, this sword, that once was fortunately drawn for her interests, has neither edge nor point against her Father; and if the greedy thirst of revenge should ever seduce my consent to offend her so rudely, I could not think of a less expiation, to force a passage with the point to that heart, which the entertainment of so profane a desire would render utterly unworthy to be the Guardian and Tablet of so fair an Image.  
Thus did the two factions of his reason grapple with each other, while he sought the most unvisited corners of the Garden, to make a list for the Combat; and in fine, the contest was like to be determined by some desperate resolution, when his Eyes encountered with me, only attended by Urinoe, and her Daughter; I had spied him as I crossed an Alley, with a purpose to shelter myself from the Sun, in the covert of an Arbour, and descrying a part of the truth through his melancholy garb and choice of solitude, the trembling desire I had to clear my conjecture, made me give the rest of my train a command to wait my retreat upon the bank of a Brook that ran through the Garden, while I, propping myself on either side with Urinoe, and Cephisa, directed my steps to the farther part of that Alley, which I had spied Artaban enter at the other end, and I had not left many paces of it behind me, when I was suddenly upon him, before the deep dispute of his thoughts would permit him to discover me. I am still troubled at the remembrance of that sad estate wherein I found him, his visage was totally changed; and if for some moments it was painted with the fiery colour that Choler gives, presently grief got the victory, drove that sanguine tide to a retreat, and covered it with his own complexion, so wan and pale, as if the cold approach of Death had newly frozen up all those Crimson channels; his Eyes, the usual Heralds of his Heart, that were still sparkling the contents of something there that was great and noble, were now eclipsed with a dull gloomy cloud of woe, and his very discerning faculty almost choked up with some tears, which made themselves a breach in spite of all his Courage, that denied them passage.  
Gods! what a fearful divination of my succeeding mischief did that object shoot into my soul? how quickly did my spirit at the same time take the impression of my misery, and release my repose? I advanced towards Artaban, with little less disquiet in mine, than his looks had shown me; the noise of my approach made him lift up his head, and he knew me, in spite of the prepossession of those passions that disputed precedency in his Soul: the light of me enraged the storms of those transports that shook him, and he had much ado to stop the torrent of his griefs from breaking out into a discovery by a loud outcry; though I often called him by his name, as I made my approaches, it was long before he could digest his woes into words; and, instead of advancing to meet me, he leaned his back against an Arbour, and holding his arms a cross upon his breast, he stayed my coming up in a posture, that pierced my very Soul with pity: my affection soon reached me a share in his anguish, and it cost me no second thoughts to divine the cause of his inquietude, the fear I had entertained to learn something from his mouth that would justify itself, made my tongue turn coward for a time, and charactered a disturbance in my looks that were little short of his; in fine, I first overcame the confusion, that shared itself betwixt us, and violently putting by my own sad apprehensions, that my judgement might have liberty to make a more dexterous application of comfort to his: How now Artaban, said I, are your knowledge and courage both wracked with one gust? what have you let yourself sink under the weight of a grief (that appears in your visage) below the knowledge of Elisa?  
At these words Artaban drew up two or three groans from the bottom of his breast, and fastening his eyes upon me with a wild and half distracted look: Yes Madam, I do know you, said he, with a voice composed of almost as many sighs as words, and oh that Heaven had pleased I had known you less or better! In fine Madam, pursued he, a little reinforcing his spirits, the same Gods that took me from you, have cruelly torn those hopes from my heart, that my indiscretion planted there; and a King, whom I can neither call cruel, nor ingrateful, because he is your Father, does rigorously punish the same offence your indulgence pardoned, his refusal exposes me to a death, that might have been far less bitter, and more glorious, had I received it as a just doom of my boldness from your command, but in this my destiny is much more cruel that (utterly unable to love the man that pays me no other price but Death for all my services) it is not permitted me to hate him that disclosed such a mine of Treasure as yourself to the World.  
At this period a shower of tears, that violently broke their way, stayed the pursuit of his discourse, which softened my Soul to such a melting temper, as forced me freely to unlock the channels of my own, and putting my hand before my face with a purpose in part to hide them: Artaban, said I, my fears were always Prophetic of what has befallen you, and though (your services esteemed aright) I believed ever, there could be nothing too great for your expectations, yet I know the King's disposition too well to oversee so sad an augury: this I may safely protest, and possibly, with too much truth, that the cause and sense of your sorrows have equally divided themselves betwixt us; and since you cannot be ignorant that I love you, you may easily guests from that, how large a share my heart has carved itself in the sufferings of your disgrace: would to Heaven it lay in my power to smooth all the frowns in the face of your fortune, and that the Gods had as happily suited the King's intentions to mine, as my will is submitted to the indispensible ties of duty, to an absolute dependence upon his: Believe it Artaban, you should quickly know, that your virtue takes place of all those in my choice, that swell the titles of the greatest Kings; nor has the whole Universe a capacity to court my soul with a clearer satisfaction, than by putting you in possession of that privilege my wishes design you: But since the Gods will not let us be happy at our own Election, call upon the greatness of your courage for a resignation to their wills, 'tis that must create you hopes to calm and quiet your displeasures, and doubtless cut you out fairer Fortunes, than any can flatter your expectations in the Court of Parthia. I cannot see myself reduced, Dear Artaban, without a sad reluctance, to offer you this Counsel, but you must not be ignorant how poorly my power can befriend my will in a business of this nature, and you know with what a precise obedience maids of my birth are tied to the austere rules of their duty, they are those that subscribe me a blind submission to the will of my Father and my King: And they are those, interrupted the sad Artaban, that reduce me to this deplorable estate, which draws tears from your fair eyes; no Madam, 'tis not the power of a King that creates my misfortune; had I nothing but that to combat, perhaps I might find forces enough to hold up my Buckler, which now I must lay down at your feet, since you are my opposer; it may be I should throw down all other difficulties that stand in my way to happiness, and I think the powerfullest impediments would all become the Trophies of my resolution, if your consent would vote the Triumph; but 'tis that I know not how to hope: and 'tis that too, Madam, that has made a coward of all my courage to demand it; no Madam I dare not ask any thing that crosses your humour in behalf of a miserable man, nor pretend to the violation of a duty that forbids me to be happy: for though I were born to greater Crowns than those that embrace your Father's Temples, I should not suffer so bold a thought; but since a Sword is all the portion that Heaven has given me, I should be too unworthy of the glory I have gotten by it, in serving you, should I ask more than what I have already received of your goodness: my desires then Madam, are all contracted in this single request, continued he, throwing himself at my feet, that you will only suffer me to go away with the honour of being yours, and continue it, till one short Scene of my life be acted, I shall not long trouble you with keeping the Commission, and I promise you to make haste into the arms of Death, as the only medicine that is left for all miseries.  
While he spoke in this manner, I had seated myself upon a bank that was behind me, and regarding him in what sad estate, with all the tender agitations of Love and Pity: Yes my dear Artaban, said I, where ever you go you have my consent to be always mine, and the Gods can witness I would be yours too, had the King and his Daughters desires been as nearly allied as themselves: live then with this assurance, but remember I bid you live, nay I command you to take care of your life, since I have some hope still left unstrangled that tells me Heaven will not always let you be unhappy; I know it will concern your safety, to absent yourself a while from the Court, because the King's anger was ever too dangerous to be trusted, but I hope the want of you at the helm of his affairs, will quickly make itself known by some following disadvantages, that will not only oblige him to call you back again, but offer that into your arms, which he has ingratefully refused you: in the mean time oppose your despair with this belief, he shall find it no easy Province to make me disclaim my right in you for a new object, and so far a Decency will defend those endeavours, I shall take care to preserve you from the mischief, of seeing that in another man's possession, which was unworthily denied you: If this be your resolution, Madam, cried Artaban, I am not half so miserable as my sorrows told me, but as I bind my promise by all that ever was obliging, to make my future behaviour take laws from the profound respect my Soul has for you, and obey them by reregarding that happy man, without a design to disquiet his Fortune, whom your own free suffrage shall raise to the honour of your bed, so I beg your licence to oppose the felicity of those, with all the power I can make that pretend to that blessed Privilege against your consent. I allow your request, replied I, without a farther consideration, and after this permission, do make it my prayer to you, to retire yourself from hence, lest (the last jars betwixt you and the King prepended) I contract a severe censure by so long a discourse; nor can I think myself secure from the bolts of his anger, if ever he arrives at the knowledge of our privacy; Adieu Artaban, and do not complain of a cold unkindness in this farewell; for if you desire to oblige me, you cannot do it better, than by believing that Artaban's memory shall ever be as dear to me, as Elisa's life.  
These last words took their flight with a torrent of unruly tears, that climbed over the walls of their prison, while Artaban took his last leave of me with a very passionate discourse; which in the broil of troubled thoughts I could understand but confusedly; I left him half dead at this separation, and walked a way from him for fear of a surprisal, but in so strange a disguise of grief, as it was long before I durst come in sight of my Women, and I sought out all the secretest walks in the Garden, that I might have leisure to quiet and compose my disorders before I appeared; indeed I think at last my face had parted with some of it, but my soul was still upon the Rack, and torn so cruelly, as I believe Artaban himself scarce felt more torment: The whole remainder of that day I was utterly incapable of any entertainment or accost: and I spoke to none but Urinoe and her daughter, whom I suffered to be partners in my woe for Artaban's misfortune and my own. I say my own, for I always ventured an equal share of happiness in his Bark, nor was it in fortune's power to send such a storm as would shipwreck his joys, and let mine swim to shore.  
Ah! Urinoe, would I say, since 'twas impossible for you to oversee this event, or miss the foresight that Artaban's pretences to me would never be authorized, why would you favour his attempt so imprudently, and why with so many pressing solicitations strive to enter my heart with his love, that it might be this day wounded with his loss? That unfortunate is gone, and carries away no other salary for his great services than his own despair, nay possible he is gone into some other Country less ingrateful than this, with a fatal resolution to throw off his miseries with his life, and force them both to expire together; while I stay behind with the stings of a remorse for exposing a man that has so bravely obliged me, to the cruelty of so many disasters. But as there is but a part of Elisa stays behind him, so he cannot go away with Artaban entire and undivided; and if he leaves me a heart, which I keep as the dearest pledge that ever was pawned by lover, so I have given him leave to glory in the possession of that which my duty (how precise and severe so ever it ought to be) could not refuse to his Merit, his Affection and Services.  
I breathed my sorrows with divers other discourses of the same tenor, which I cannot repeat and be civil with your patience, and all my actions were distempered with a grief so violent, as there were very few eyes in the Court too dim to discover it.  
The next day after Artaban's departure, the King came into my Chamber, and finding me in bed, which I resolved to keep for some days, on purpose to conceal what my tell-tale looks would have betrayed too plainly: The audacious Artaban, said he, was yesterday so rash as to demand you of me, for the salary of his services; can it be possible Elisa that you should either know, or approve his insolence?  
These words stabbed themselves to my very heart, but unwilling to betray any trouble in too long a study for an answer: Sir, said I, the services of Artaban are known unto me, but I am a perfect stranger to his insolence, and he never discovered any thoughts to me, that might justly offend your Majesty: If I thought, replied Phraates, knitting his brows, that you favoured the ambition of that presumptuous man I should soon make you know the displeasure you have done me. The Queen coming in at this passage, interrupted the sequel, and secretly strove to allay the King's passionate heat with mild and gentle insinuations; she was a perfect lover of Artabans' virtue, as she deemed herself obliged, and had been touched with a tender sense of his disgrace: In fine, her gloss upon the cause of his disturbance differed much from the Kings; and though her opinion pointed at something too hardy in the attempt of Artaban, yet that reflection could not blemish the esteem she had for him, and proved so far from forcing his deserts to the loss of any ground in her memory, as if his felicity had depended upon her disposal, she would not have opposed it; however she openly regretted the unlucky cause of his absence, and though she durst not condemn that refusal the King had made him, yet she made no scruple to speak it in his presence, that she was sorry his passion had forfeited the future service of so brave a man; and if he thought him not worthy to wear the title of his Son-in-law, she wondered he would not rather endeavour to preserve him by some other benefits, than pay the arrears due to his merits with injuries and outrage.  
The King, who had yet little feeling of the fault he had committed, could not suddenly repent it, and repulsed all those that adventured to urge the necessity of Artabans' valour, for the defence of his Estate, with such thundering words, and a look so terrible, as none of them were hardy enough to reinforce their arguments: the obstinacy of this humour stuck these sentiments in his breast for a time, and the prosperity of his affairs had so enchanted his reason, as he had already driven Artaban from the place he held in his memory, and shuffled him among the common throng of men, prized him no better than one that he might lose with no inconvenience, and a person without whose assistance, he and his Parthians had easily performed what Artaban had done in his defence, and for the advancement of his grandeur.  
But it cost him no long time to discover the vanity of these thoughts, and since 'tis but fit that I abridge my story by stepping over the particular sallies of my grief into several complaints for my Artaban's absence, which neither the insensible charms of time, nor all the comforts Urinoe could coin, had power to assuage. I shall succeed to passages of more importance, and recount the strange revolutions caused by the absence of one single person, that in short time befell a potent Empire.  
Two months were scarce added to the age of time when the King received intelligence, that Archilaus King of Cappadocia, and Philadelph Son to the King of Cilicia, two young and valiant Princes, to whom Tigranes had fled for refuge, had raised a mighty Army in behalf of that uncrowned Prince, and with him entered Media, whereof the people's aversion to the Parthian government, and the assurance they reposed in their own strength, had furnished them with reasons to assure themselves the success of a re-subjection to the proper owner; Phraates a little startled at this news, drew his forces together with a dexterous haste, and sent a flying Army of the first Troops that rendezvouzed into Media, reserving the main body to be led on by himself when they were ready to march; but all the blossoms of his expectation were blasted, for the Medes universally taking Arms at the appearance of their King, and the Parthian Garrisons, frighted at the vast number of their Enemies, daily rendered the places they defended upon very shameful capitulations.  
Artabans who commanded for Phraates in Media, having drawn together the body of an Army, with a purpose to stagger the success of his Royal Enemies, was cut in pieces with his whole Army, and of all the most considerable Cities in Media, there was not one that in less than two months' time had not planted the Standards of their lawful Prince upon the walls, and either cut their throats, or sent away the Garrisons upon miserable conditions.  
The forces that Phraates sent to stop the course of this impetuous ravage, were defeated as soon as they appeared, and when he came himself into Media, he found it entirely reduced to its old obedience.  
Phraates was amazed at so sudden and so strange a change, and of two Crowns he possessed but a few months before, perceiving himself reduced by the chance of War to the moiety, became very sensibly afflicted with shame and anger, and too late regretted the loss of Artaban, who could as bravely have preserved what he generously acquired: Grief and Repentance equally contributed themselves to his disquiet, but rumour quickly represented the necessity of other thoughts, when he learned that the three victorious Kings, (after they had made themselves absolute Masters in the heart, and spread their success through all the veins of the Kingdom) were coming up to fight him with an Army, which swelled to a greater bulk at every step, by the hourly addition of new forces that flocked in to their Prince from all parts.  
Phraates plainly perceiving his numbers too thin to accept the defiance, was fearful to fight upon so great an inequality, and drew back his Army towards our Frontier, his Enemy's improving their pride and courage at this retreat, almost trod upon the heels of his Rear in their march, and appeared as soon as he, upon the ancient limits of Parthia.  
The same Tigranes that a few months before (unable to tread a foot upon his own land) had been enforced to beg the shelter and support of his life among strangers, then saw himself repossessed of his hereditary Throne, and in a more potent condition than ever to make the Crown of Parthia tremble upon the head that wore it: in effect he was now in power to give a mighty check to the Parthian Monarchy, and the two Kings his Allies (Princes provoked by their proper virtue, and the bruit of Phraates cruelty to list themselves on his Enemy's party) were resolved to break into his Territories, and with their friends to carry on the quarrel of Divine Justice, for the blood he had spilt at home with so black a Cruelty; all the Courage Phraates had, could not exempt him from shaking at the threats of this approaching tempest, and indeed he was in very great danger, when his fears were unexpectly released from the Rack, by a friendly Daemon to the Parthian Monarchy, and my particular Enemy.  
Tigranes wholly vanquished, devested and driven from all, he had still nourished the flames of a passion that I was so unlucky to kindle, and finding that ti still blazed higher he made his hostile approaches to our Kingdom, he thought himself in better case than ever to make it public to the world, and demand me of my Father with a sword in his hand, that fortune had already rendered very dreadful to Phraates; he made this proposition to his two friends, and though then their spirits boiled with the heat of Victory, yet they were loath to resist a design, whereof the accomplishment proffered peace to their People, and satisfaction to their friend, the only cause that helped them on with their Armour.  
Tigranes' confirmed by his friends consent in this resolution, and besides desiring to sit quietly down with his Subjects, and taste the sweets of a calm repose which so long had been exposed to the miseries of a cruel war, sent two of his prime Nobility to Phraates, with an order to demand me for their Queen, and an absolute power to conclude the Peace and Marriage.  
They could not have made this proposition to Phraates in a more propitious season, and the terror of their Arms had already disposed him to accept conditions, much less advantageous than those they offered him, for besides that he had then the power of three great Kings to grapple with, which he found himself too feeble to resist upon equal terms, he disinherited his people's allegiance, who he knew detested his cruelty, and learning from all parts of his Parthia, that the most considerable persons shrunk away from the War, and openly cried out for Peace, his Jealousy foretold a dangerous insurrection, if he took not a sudden care to content their longing.  
Phraates treaty with such thoughts as these, when the Ambassadors of Tigranes arrived, not only prepared their welcome, but procured them a favourable audience, and at the first overture of their Master's message, got them a full concession to all they demanded, as well in relation to the Peace as Marriage; never was affair of so grand importance huddled up with so short a debate: before the Ambassadors returned to their Prince, the peace was concluded, the Articles signed, and the unfortunate Elisa destined as a victim to be sacrificed for the public repose.  
Tigranes' distrusting the King of Parthia's performance of Articles, insisted upon a ratification of the Treaty, before he drew off his Army from the Frontier, believing, that while he held Phraates in the chains of fear, he might more securely tie him to the accomplishment of his word, than when he once retreated without an Enemy at his heels to the centre of his Dominions; my Father represented that such a precipitation in affairs of that nature, would carry a very shameful construction, and appear to the world with all the proportions of a forced act on his part, without the least gust of a liberty, that (content rightly stated, and reputations considered) might perform a clearer satisfaction to both.  
At last Tigranes' consent struck fail to the opinion of his two Royal Friends, that advised him to render Phraates the deference he desired, coupling their Counsel with a promise, that if he broke his word with him, they would once more join their Forces to his, with a resolution to ruin him.  
All things thus concluded, and solemnly sworn on both sides, the two Armies drew off from their Posts and retreated, Tigranes and his two Cousins took the several ways that led to their own Provinces, and Phraates bent his course to Hecatompolis, where we then resided, but he was followed by the Ambassadors of Tigranes, one of which, as custom would have it, was to espouse me in their King's name at the Parthian Court, and after the Ceremony conduct me into Media.  
In the mean time I trailed on my life in a very doleful condition, the memory of Artaban made a continual war upon my quiet, I loved him far dearer since his disgrace and absence than ever before, and if at that distance he could have traveled his eye to the naked tablet of my heart, and seen how strong a guard of favourable and faithful thoughts I had there placed about the Image of himself & virtue, it could not have brought him home a feeble satisfaction, old time (that usually sheds poppy upon such resentments) could never shade the eyes of mine with the least inclination to drowziness, and if before he had appeared with some graces about him that were lovely, he then presented himself armed at all parts with such invincible advantages, as left nothing in Elisa's power to give away from him; I passed away a part of my life in discourses of him with Urinoe and Cephisa; and they could not please me better than by straining their art of speaking well upon his praises, but we never closed our Converse without a warm Epilogue of tears; and sometimes when those were wiped away, and liberty allowed it, we begun the discourse again, and ended it with another shower: You may judge Madam, whether I lightly concerned myself in the wrongs he suffered, since if for his consideration, I made no vows against my own party, at least I learned the news of their distress without a sigh, nay, and in some kind rejoiced at the bad success of our arms, and the unlucky confusion to which my Father had reduced himself, by driving so brave a Pilot as Artaban, from the helm of his warlike affairs. Had Artaban kept his command, would I say, when Fame brought me the news of our overthrows, Victory would never have left us, and the same Tigranes, that now proudly rides in his Triumphant Chariot, had still hung down his uncrowned head, and tamely taken the Chariot of a shelter from Cousin Kings.  
These were my thoughts, these my employments, when I received the dismal news of a public peace, and my own private disaster: I understood the King had made me the price of his safety, before he vouchsafed me the least notice of such an engagement, and I learned he had given me away to Tygranes, at such a time, when my heart had more aversion for him, than any that nature had ever made of his sex.  
Madam, as I have already told you, he was a Prince handsome enough, Courageous and Valiant, without the least blemish of Cruelty, Avarice, or any other Vices, which blot the Lives, and sully the repute of Princes, (at least if you bate his ingratitude to Artaban, for which his Love does make some Apology) and yet whether I derived my Antipathy from some undiscovered cause in nature, or the reasons already alleged, since the time that I first beheld him, when my heart was mine to dispose of, before Artaban could plead any privilege there, I never admitted the least inclination to his person; but at such a time, when his Competitor had made so clear a conquest of my will, I could not understand that I was promised to Tigranes, without falling into the extremes of a comfortless grief: What, cried I, has the King given me to the greatest of his Enemies, that would doubtless have denied me to the dearest of his friends, and does he sacrifice his only Child to his people's repose, without considering how justly her own does plead for a place in his thoughts?  
In sequel, I carefully informed myself of the truth, and receiving (wherever I bent my inquiry) nothing else but cruel confirmations of my misery, I took a sad farewell of all my hopes of a reverting happiness, and abandoned myself to the cold embraces of a desperate melancholy, that even tore up my very capacity of comfort by the roots.  
In this calamitous condition the King found me, when he arrived at Hecatompolis, and understanding the cause of it, he burst into an anger that would not suffer him to see me for several days after; but at last, importuned by necessity, either to bow or break me to his will, he caused me to be called into his chamber, and no sooner spied me at the door, when without any other reception (though he had not seen me of divers months before.) What Elisa, said he, do you then oppose my intentions, have you so slender a portion of respect for the commands of a Father and a King, that you can give them the hearing, and refuse your submission?  
The fierceness of the King's action, and the tone of his voice, sent some fear to my heart, yet they could not so appeal my Courage, but it recovered strength enough to throw me at his feet, and return him this answer.  
Sir, I was ever resolved to spend my whole life in a continued practice of obedience to all you shall please to ordain me; but you know Sir yourself has always taken care to nourish so strong an aversion in me to Tigranes, as I hope you will not think it strange, if I feel an impossibility to vanquish it. Tigranes was my Enemy, replied Phraates, when I commanded you to hate him, but now he is become a friend to the house of Parthia, 'tis my absolute and indispensible will, that you love him with all the faithful rights of affection, that are due to the man I have chosen for your Husband. Ah! my Lord, said I, will you wrack the quiet of my life, and sink my joys at once, for State consideration, and will you not give me some time at least to clear my breast of all that denies him entrance there, before you force me to his bed? never think to obtain any thing of me, replied the furious King, but the extremest degrees of hatred and rigour, if you keep the least objection to my will unvanquished by your duty; go, get you out of my presence, and come no more in my sight, before you have bowed your stubborn heart to obey me without a scruple of repugnance.  
I was struck dumb at the cruelty of his language, and returned to my chamber so confused and afflicted, as it cost me the rest of that day, to get my reason again into her place.  
The next morning there came a command from the King, that I should make myself ready to receive Tigranes' Ambassadors, who a little after, being entered my chamber, they entered me an account of their delegation in behalf of their Prince, and offered the first homage of that reverence, which they paid me as due to their Sovereign Queen.  
I would not suffer any passion to break loose in their presence, as without doubt I had done, if I durst have followed the stream of my own resentments, but they culled a very slender satisfaction from my language and looks, and if an imposed formality put some of my words in a civil frame, they came from me in a posture so visibly constrained, as they might easily read through it the small inclination I had to become their Mistress; however in public they deemed it not fit to silence any further inquisition, and the King, without so much as vouchsafing any enquiry what blows I had struck in the Combat with myself, caused all things to be prepared for a Ceremony, to which I was to be lead as a victim to an Altar.  
Gods! what a world of unquiet thoughts did then tread the mazes of my soul! what excuses did I not make to the unfortunate Artaban whom a rigorous constraint had caused me to abandon! how often have I summoned heaven to take notice of the violence was offered me, how oft from the justification, have I passed to a complaint against him, accusing his affection of Apostasy, and falsely charging him with insensibility of my affection and discharge of my interests.  
Cephisa and her Mother daily endeavoured to dry my eyes, but were utterly unable to stop their source with any solace to my sad heart, and the Queen my Mother, whose sweet disposition ever charged itself with a tender care, and a dear indulgence for the peace of my spirit, knowing her power too weak to wrestle with the King's intentions, left nothing unassayed to ease me of my anguish, by persuading a resignation to his will, though she has protested a hundred times a day, that she would not think it too dear a rate, to ransom my repose at the price of her own, and vowed she could not see the cruel preparation of my following miseries, without getting all my sighs and sufferings by heart in her own breast. But fortune had not spent the spightfullest mischiefs she intended upon me, and she raised me up a fresh disaster (unforeseen by my fears) that struck me deeper than all that foreran it: and now Madam, you are to understand the uttermost effects of ingratitude and cruelty.  
There was but one day left unspent before that which was appointed for my nuptial Ceremony, when the King, being in one of the Palace Courts, environed with a proud train, composed of the prime Nobility among the Parthians, and the King of Media's Ambassadors, saw himself aborded by a man, whose unexpected appearance was quickly grown the astonishment of all the beholders: His visage was pale, and a little altered, yet not so estranged by that change, but he was quickly known to be Artaban by the whole assembly; at the view of a man so endeared to the best, and affectionately revered among all the Parthians, their joy started out into a thousand acclamations, and the King recovering his face as well as the rest, appeared with a greater surpizal in his looks than any of those attended him.  
Artaban not so much as straying one single regard from his purpose upon the troop that environed him, directed his addresses to the King himself, and his steps no sooner carried him near enough to be heard, when setting apart all other formalities: King of the Parthians, said he, I am not returned to thy Court to demand Elisa, nor to tell thee I am content to fall in the price of my services into a cheaper value: I am only come hither, to make thee a new offer of this arm, which of late thou hast miss to thy grand disadvantage, and whereof the sole absence has possibly reduced thee to take very shameful laws from thy Enemies; I hear thou art resolved to give away thy Daughter to Tigranes, the cruelest of all thy opposers, to whom upon a fair and unforced treaty thou wouldst doubtless have refused her, and thou receivest him for thy Son-in-Law, at a time when all Asia takes notice to thy shame, that nothing but fear and weakness makes the match; Phraates, if thou hast not cashiered all care and esteem of thy repute and glory, yet break this dishonourable Marriage, and instead of giving with thy Daughter the Crown of Parthia to Tigranes, suffer me to restore thee that of the Medes, which once before thou didst receive at my hands, I dare engage all the honour I have gathered in the field, to recover it before Gods and men; and if with the sole assistance of thy Forces I do not set it once more upon thy head, before the Sun shall complete the Circle of a year, I am contented mine shall be exposed to all the rigours thy wrath can invent, with an utter abjuration of any plea for mercy.  
Thus did the undaunted Artaban disclose his thoughts, and the King, who during this discourse had recovered himself from his first amazement, darting at him a disdainful look: And whence comest thou, said he, thou that didst so basely shrink from me in the war? has thy foolish presumption brought thee to be my Counsellor in peace? art thou now crept out of those lurking places, where thou didst shroud thy head from the showers of danger in our Combats, to disturb mine and my subjects repose, to re-kindle a war that has already cost so much blood, and by the example of thy own perfidious actions oblige me to break an alliance, which my word and honour are laid in pawn to perform?  
At these injurious words, Artaban lost all patience, and as nature had planted noble scorn in his soul to pocket any wrongs for fear of death, his contempt of that bugbear received an extraordinary increase from the provocation of this unhandsome language, and bespeaking the expectation of what he had to say with a terrible look: The glory of my former actions, said he, has power enough to justify and secure itself against the reach of any stain from thy reproaches, and thou hast seen me fight with too much prodigality of blood for thy Interests, to make thyself believe that fear could ever force me from the Combat; no Phraates, if I forsook thee in the war, thou know'st 'twas thy ingratitude bereavest thee of my Sword, and I cannot be accused of Cowardice, and disloyalty by any but Monsters and Parricides.  
These bold words that openly uncovered the blackest of his crimes, set his rage a running like wildfire through all the parts of Phraates body, and turning to his guards; Seize upon him, cried he, in a flame of fury, let him be taken dead or alive.  
These words had scarce mingled themselves with the air, when Artaban was environed by a thousand of his Enemies, but though the love of life was utterly expelled his breast, yet revenge easily got his consent to hold it at a very dear rate to those that first attaqued him, and now he presented the same dreadful Sword to the throats of his opposers, which they had often seen him brandish against their foes in so many Combats, and from which the Sun than first beheld victory to be ravished by an unequal number: Phraates their Captain was presently thrown dead at the feet of his Companions, and in a few moments the forwardest of his Men received a like pass from his sword to follow him: Artaban then quitting the care of his own preservation rushed in among them with a headlong fury, and quickly goring himself all over with their blood, was in an instant become so terrible to the hardiest of his Enemies, as Phraates himself, though bulwarked round with thousands of armed men, scarce thought his person secure behind so many bucklers: Yet at last this prodigious valour grew incapable to guard his liberty, and while it was still cutting lanes through those that faced him, they assaulted him behind with better success, and by an inundation of his Enemies, which poured themselves at once upon his back, he was born to the Earth, and reduced to an Estate of making no more resistance.  
By the King's orders he was immediately bound and led before him, and Phraates had cruelty enough to aggravate the sense of his misfortunes with menaces and reproaches unworthy of enterainment in the mouth or mind of a King: Artaban retorted all his threats with contempt, and was so far from stooping to a power, with the least Flexure of submission, that might have given or taken his life at pleasure, as regarding him with an eye that spoke nothing but disdain and indignation: Phraates, said he, I shall receive the bloody kindness of thy command that dooms me to die, and prefer it (the main one denied) above all the dignities that Fortune has left at thy disposal; credit me King, 'tis a necessitated sacrifice for the safety of thy Son-in-Law, and might concern thy own, if my respect to the Princess Elisa did not guard thee from such intentions.  
The King, after he had vomited some outrageous words against him, that showed the cruelty of his nature, sent him to one of the rudest Dungeons in the City, commanded his hands and feet should be laden with Irons, and imposed very strict precautions upon his guard, that made them acquainted with the importance of the Prisoner, and the fear was due to the recovery of his liberty.  
The last disaster of Artaban spread a strange amazement through the Parthian Court, and those that a while before had seen that great Man at the head of their Armies dealing destruction with a dexterous hand (as if he played with victory) among their Enemies, gaining battles, conquering Kingdoms, and quitting himself in all his deportments, as if he had been sent with a Commission from Heaven to make their Nation happy, could not see him thrown into a Dungeon, charged with Irons, exposed to shame, and in all their judgements, pitched as an eminent mark for death to draw her bow at, without spending some serious reflections upon the sickly constitution of humane fortunes, and deploring the fate of so brave a man with all that could signallize an unfeigned affliction: 'Tis true, they found something that required a balance in the haughty humour and indomitable spirit of Artaban, but when their memories glanced upon the marvellous things he had done for them and their Country, they knew not how to accuse his confidence; since it took a lawful birth from the greatness of his heart and Courage, which had so bravely beaten off, and defeated danger, that threatened chains and ruin to their Country: but if the Parthians interessed themselves in Artabans' fortune, judge Madam in what manner I was touched at the news of this unluckily passage: I am discouraged to enterprise the difficulty I feel to perform it, and shall close it in as few word as will serve to tell you, that my grief seemed to have borrowed some darts of death to strike me, and I think the sudden arrest of fate itself, would not have dealt more cruelly? My sorrows were grown so headstrong as they easily taught their untoward children my tears to break their bounds, and I had so little power to pinion the airy wings of my sighs, that they broke loose in whole Troops to carry news of my resentments; all that day I shut up myself with Urinoe and her Daughter, not permitting so much as the sight of any other person; all the parts of speech that belonged to the Grammar of a lawful grief had a free passage through my mouth, and if I lamented Artaban's misfortune, I complained a thousand times of his imprudence, and decried his desperate resolutions that loaded my mind with more misery than it was able to support; the King's bloody disposition filled me full of deadly fears in his behalf, and I could not examine the danger that menaced his life, without suffering such thoughts to devour my quiet, that were the nearest neighbours to despair.  
Ah Artaban, would I say, art thou come back on purpose, to bring the cruelest addition to my grief, that it was capable of receiving, and was it not enough for the unfortunate Elisa to suffer for thy absence, but thy return must throw us both headlong to our Tombs? I had sadly lost the hope of ever seeing thee again, and now thou hast rashly removed that affliction; but Ah! thou hast done it with a dangerous appearance that puts me to far greater pain, than a perpectual divorce could ever have inflicted.  
I tormented myself in this manner, and wasted the whole night in such a doleful condition, as I think my sorrows would have softened the stony heart of Phraates himself, had he rightly understood them; but in this full tide of affliction, maugre all my protestations and tears, I was forced to obey a cruel order from the King, that caused me to be conducted to the Temple, there to espouse Tigranes, in the person of his Ambassador, and receive the Crown of Media.  
I was too great a sufferer at this Ceremony, to bring away the description: In short, I was there espoused, there publicly Crowned (and after all the ordinary formalities that usually wait upon such solemnities) led back to the Palace, in an estate that contracted pity from all that saw me, the King my Father excepted.  
After this action he fell to consider what he should do with Artaban: the revenge he believed was due to the unbecoming words he had given, carried weight enough in his thoughts, to make a seeming justice his assassin, but besides the turbulent motions of his Choler, he had many other reasons, and those of no feeble footing in his breast, that solicited Artaban's ruin; his experience of this man's invincible spirit, and his amorous aims at me, hatched him some sanguine fears, that he would prove a perpetual ague to himself and his Son-in-law, remove Heaven and Earth to ravish Elisa from the hands of Tigranes, and always keep a capacity consistent with his life, to disquiet the two Kingdoms, as well by the help of his offended courage, as the affection and authority, which his grand actions had acquired, and were likely to preserve him among the Medes and Parthians. In fine, he thought he could not sleep securely, so long as such an Artaban was above ground to traverse his designs, and this consideration easily got the victory of all that resisted it to conclude his murder, but when his memory made fresh opposition, by reviving the services that man had done him, he gave credit to a new conception, that he could not bring him to a Scaffold, without deepning the tincture of his execrable crimes, to the eye of the World, and drawing upon himself a dangerous increase of his people's hatred, to whom he was already very odious.  
The influence of these reasons on both sides held him some days irresolute, but the last could not prevail for Artabans' pardon: in fine, he closed with one invention, that he thought would render him less odious than any that had trod their successive steps through his fancy.  
He was well acquainted with the cause and temper of Tigranes resentments against Artaban, and besides the knowledge that all the world had of it, he remembered in his propositions of peace, he demanded his head, or Artaban dead or alive in his first Article, besides, he had understood that since his imprisonment, Artaban had openly protested, if he were at liberty again, he would kill Tigranes, which being told to the Median Ambassadors, they had brought it in as a new complaint against him to the King, this sprung him a conceit, that he might safely rid himself of Artaban, and tie Tigranes to him in an immortal obligation, sending (with his spouse) his Enemy in chains, by his death to satisfy for all the losses he had caused him.  
This thought had no sooner made itself known, but presently grew up to a resolution, and to the persons were appointed to conduct me into Media, there was added a great number of others to guard Artaban thither, but because he feared those friends that Artaban's virtue had acquired among the Parthians, should attempt a rescue if we took the ordinary road, he directed our voyage through Hyrcania though much the farther way, and gave secret orders to a certain number of vessels, that he judged necessary for my conduct and Artaban's, to wait us at a Port upon the Caspian Sea, where we were to embark, after we had traversed Hyrcania.  
See Madam how far he stretched his ingratitude, and what a rancorous malice inhabited his heart, to expose a man that had so gallantly obliged him to the rage of an Enemy, that had never been so but because he served him.  
The rumour of this resolution that raised a general murmur among the Parthians, stuck me with an unparallelled astonishment; all the blood I borrowed from his veins, could not stop my cries against this last effect of Phraates cruelty, but when I had spent some serious reflections upon this design, I spied a little glimmering of comfort, and I believed there was more hope of procuring Artaban's safety, by my entreaty to Tigranes, upon whose spirit I still thought affection had left me some authority, and whose disposition was never voiced by the common repute to be cruelly inclined, than by leaving him to my Father's mercy, whose marble heart never gave access to pity, when choler or ambition kept the gate.  
But why should my relation travel the farther way towards its journey's end, by such unpleasant passages? this design of the Kings was acted as resolved, and I was snatched out of the Queen my mother's arms (who as well as the wretched Elisa, was ready to die for grief at our separation) before my fears of such a sudden divorce had time to feel themselves in season, and conducted with Artaban, through Hireania, which is under the King my Father's Dominion, to the Caspian Sea, where after I had given my last farewell to those, who, through private respect or public command, had accompanied me thither; was put into a vessel among the Medes: Artaban laden with Irons, in another full of armed men, and both these followed by three other Ships fraughted full of Soldiers, that were rather sent as a guard to the Prisoner, than a train to the Princess: they were commanded by Orestes, Brother to the same Euphrates that was killed by Artaban a few days before in the Court, and therefore for the greater assurance, preferred by the King to that charge, as his bitterest Enemy: Orestes had with him a thousand well trained men in those vessels, and Polynices, who by the King's Commission was captain of my Convoy, commanded two or three hundred Parthians that were all in our Ship, with my Women, and a part of my Family; of all his Servants, than the unfortunate Artaban had no other with him but Telamonius, a young man of a great heart, a lively wit, and rare fidelity.  
I seemed as if I had rather been conducted to my Tomb than my Nuptials, and if some Bolts and Shackleses had not made the difference betwixt us; it would have troubled any judgement, not anticipated to distinguish which, or Artaban, or I, was the Prisoner.  
All the time we traveled by Land, I durst not so much as demand a sight of him, and I deemed the request would be easier obtained, when we were once on Shipboard, and had lost the sight of so many persons that came no farther than the shore, and might propably carry back dangerous news of them that permitted it; however the first day I thought it unfit to hazard a repulse, till I had made myself better acquainted with the faces of those that had power to grant it, but the next day after some endeavour to soften and flex the spirits of Polynices and Tigranes Ambassadors with gentler words, and smother looks than I had formerly put on, I begged their permission for a sight of Artaban upon the deck of his Vessel; at first these barbarous Men made some scruple to consent, and defended their disobedience, with the King's orders, which they alleged were positively express and rigorous against it: but at last I assaulted their obstinacy with so many powerful and prevalent reasons, telling them that the sight of me could no way conduce to the safety of Artaban, that at best they would but rob themselves of an opportunity to oblige me, since I knew I could owe the same favour to Tigranes when ever I desired it; and at last threatening to let myself die with hunger, and so bereave them of all the honour and reward they expected for their service in my conduct to the King of Media, if they refused my demand, as in fine, whether the fear of a future revenge for the churlish refusal, or the importunity of my prayer was the best advocate, they gave me my desires: then was Artaban's vessel brought near to mine, and himself placed upon the Deck, with all his Irons about his arms and feet: this object struck a horror through me of my Father's inhumanity; and (if Cephisa had not supported me) doubtless I had fallen upon the Deck, and all the succour she could lend my feeble spirits, had much ado to hold in my senses to their several properties.  
Artaban took some ruddy shame into his looks, that I saw him in that slave-like posture charged with Irons, and I read in the very rays, that his eyes darted downwards (for I saw they fled my face) that it was not the fear, but the kind of death that troubled him, and he could not patiently take the account of those thoughts that told him, he was carried to be thrown at the feet of his mercy, who had so lately been despoiled and stripped of his Purple by his own hands, of a man that was Enemy and Rival conjoined, and such a Rival, whom not only his anger, but his amorous interest had composed him a resolution to kill him in the very centre of his guards: these reflections swollen his great heart to a purpose of anticipating his death, before he received it by the King of Media's doom; and in pursuit of that design, perceiving he was too strictly guarded to surprise any opportunity of throwing himself into the Sea, he resolved to make hunger his Executioner, and had therefore taken very little nourishment since we first embarked.  
After I had a little recovered my spirits, that at first were driven from their places, by the assault of so sad a spectacle, fastening my eyes upon his face, and discovering all to his easy interpretation in the Dialect of my looks, that the presence of so many Witnesses advised me to hide: Artaban, said I, the condition you appear in is very unworthy of you, and if I received not some comfort from a hope to release you of all the shame and danger, you should quickly know how large a propriety I claim in your misfortunes.  
Artaban, (fierce as a Libyan Lion to all besides, only in my presence ever gentle and submissive) raised his eyes to my visage, and struggling with himself to keep some sighs from breaking prison. Madam, said he, my condition is very glorious, since it takes a pedigree from no other fountain but the love of you, I shall embrace my death, and finish my Tragedy without the least reluctance, if my sufferings for you may speak the Epilogue: for you alone I abandoned Tigranes' Interests, for you, chased him out of your Father's Kingdom, and despoiled him of his own, for you incurred the indignation of Phraates, and in fine, for you, am now going to tender my naked throat to the sword of the incensed Tigranes: 'Tis I Madam, must be made the sacrifice to propitiate your Hymen, and Tigranes will possess his Heaven of happiness in you without a cloud, when he shall once see his fears washed away with the blood of a man, that had he lived, would still have held him to a very close dispute of his title; this is my Destiny, and yours Madam, is to be led in triumph into the arms of a young King, that attends your approaches with a panting expectation, to receive a flourishing Crown, and pass away your days with all the varieties of content and delight, that are worthy to entertain you: the establishment of yours, and the end of my life, I believe will both arrive at one conjuncture of time, since your consent has sealed to these, I forbid my soul so much as a secret murmur; but if my preceding services have made me worthy to prefer a supplication, I would fain conjure you to obtain of Tigranes, that he would not let me survive this last Scene of my misfortune, there is cause to suspect, if I come alive into his hands, he will prevent the death he intends me, by another matyrdom ten thousand times more cruel, which I shall suffer every several moment, in being made a spectator of his felicity, but your goodness bids me hope you will take care to cut off this approaching disaster, and represent to Tigranes that he ought to content himself with his Fortune, and my single fate, without trampling upon me by an ignoble triumph at my death, that will sully the credit, and tarnish all the glory of his life.  
While Artaban expressed himself in this manner, I was half drowned in my own tears, which the sad contexture of his language, and the deplorable estate wherein I beheld him, drew away from my eyes in great abundance; and though his reproaches offered me some cause of exception, I easily pardoned all to his grief, and assured myself they were the offspring of a belief, that I had willingly disposed myself by the conquest of all my repugnance to espouse Tigranes.  
If I could safely have trusted my justifications in that place, as it was then peopled, I had quickly cured him of his error, and indeed, I that had been the source of all his misfortunes, could not owe less to that gallant man, whom I then saw ready to perish for my sole interest; I durst not give him my thoughts at their full proportion, and yet I was unwilling to keep all under hatches that my heart had for him, supposing those that heard us, would partly conjecture pity to be the parent of that which indeed was the child of affection; encouraged by these thoughts, and regarding him with more passion than ever I taught my eyes to express before: Artaban, said I, you are very cruel to aggravate my displeasures by your reproaches, and by them you have given me causes of complaint, which would not have been easily pardoned at another season: I relish no such sweetness in this triumphant condition (as your unkindness styles it) which the Deities know I opposed with all my puissance, and I must not blush to tell you before Tigranes' Ambassadors, that I fled as far from the offered honour of his alliance, as the obedience due to a Father and a King would permit me; those that believe they made a clear conquest upon my will, did not well understand me, nor do I think that any action of mine could ever raise them a rational conjecture to feed such hopes: for all else that had no dependence upon me, and wanted a remedy beyond my reach, dispute it with Heaven, upbraid my Sovereigns, and accuse your Fortune and mine: but if you have lent any credit to a thought, that I can plant myself any repose with Tigranes upon your ruins, or behold the death you are in danger to take upon my score, with a clam brow, and a quiet heart, you are most unjust, more ingrateful yourself, than those that have condemned you to suffer it: No, Artaban, take your leave of that opinion, and be assured that instead of demanding your death at the hand of Tigranes, if I do not obtain your life, he shall quickly see the end of mine: remember I pass you this bold promise, before these interessed persons, and do solemnly protest in their presence, that whensoever he condemns you to die, he pronounces my sentence.  
Ah Madam, cried the afflicted Artaban, how vain and fruitless, nay how cruel is this unseasonable pity of yours! quit, I beseech you, the hope that I can ever take my life of Tigranes, or of you yourself at the rate of keeping these eyes unclosed to see my Princess in my Rival's possession: by this time I might have cut down those high grown hopes with his life, had I still been Master of my liberty, and I would not basely bargain for my own with an employed condition, to attempt his no more upon the guilty penalty of ingratitude and cowardice: thus you would enjoin me Madam to die by degrees of unspeakable torture, instead of one gentle blow that will send me down to the shades, from sufferings far more insupportable than itself; but since at these extremes of my misery, you are contented to unmask a compassion, that I never merited, which forces my acknowledgement that Fortune is the only cause of all my complaints, give me leave to satiate the thirst of an implacable foe to my felicity, who has ever been strewing impediments in my way to an acquest, that could not be the quarry of a common virtue, prevent the malice of my Enemies that would make my shame their triumph, and spare my Princess the pains of discomposing her bridal joys with a troublesome pity, which I know her excellent disposition cannot deny to such an object: No Artaban, said I, apprehendign my design, I can never agree to that, and if your will still allows my pretences of some power upon it, you cannot dispose of your life, nor attempt any thing against it without my consent: What would you then have me to do, said he, raising his voice higher than ordinary? I would have you generously endure, replied I, these frantic fits of your Fortune, and consider that with a weaker courage than yours, I have born the oppression of almost as weighty sufferings: former Ages have left us many Precedents of a hopeless change in Affairs as desperate as yours; and if you can but quiet those rash over-boilings of your spirit, and conform yourself to the will of Heaven, you will certainly receive either ease in your miseries, or constancy to support them; there is this besides to comfort you, that the person for whose sake you abide these torments has as great a share as yourself in the same affliction, and methinks this should sweeten the sense of your calamities, to see how near a community they had with hers, for whose sake you are so willing to suffer them, call home then Artaban, the straggled forces of your spirit, and do not put a Maid to the blush for your weakness, whereof till now she never suspected you guilty.  
I unclothed my thoughts in this manner, and Artaban made some semblance to moderate his rash resolutions, as well by the prevalence of my language as the example that I gave him of my constancy; when some upon the main Mast cried out, they discerned some Vessels making towards us with full sails, and a while after, when a shorter distance gave them leave to take the objects at a truer proportion, they added there was cause of suspicion, they intended to assault us, especially because they made their advances too swiftly towards us, to be accounted any other than Enemies.  
My Conductors were troubled at this intelligence, which caused them to break off my discourse with Artaban, and when they had led them back to the same Cabin that was his Prison before, they began to prepare themselves for the encounter of those dangers, that their fears foresaw, they were scarce singled to their several tasks, but every minute sprung new causes to increase their apprehensions, and they that were best acquainted with that Sea, had no sooner remarked the flags of those approaching Ships, but they cried out with a mortal fear, it was the Pirate Zenodorus, Zenodorus the most redoubted Rover that ever robbed upon the Ocean, or rather the only man that by his prosperous villainies was become terrible, since the great Pompey purged the Seas of those diseases.  
Our Commanders as well as Soldiers, turned pale at the very name of Zenodorus: but when they had considered themselves Masters of five strong Ships, and that the Pirates number exceeded not theirs above one or two, they quickly recovered spirit and resolution to defend their lives and liberties courageously.  
Polynices and the Median Ambassadors presently fitted themselves for the fight, Orestes was covered with Artaban's armour, which he had begged and obtained of the King, the same day we began that unlucky Voyage, Arms that were signally rich in beauty, fame, and their Master's glory, wherein their Usurper appeared like another Patroclus, in those that belonged to the valiant Achilles.  
Artaban was half distracted with rage, to see that Rook in his plundered plumes, and wished they might be as fatal, as the son of Pelius proved to his presumptuous friends.  
The Commanders armed, and the Soldiers ready for Combat, we stayed the coming up of our Enemies, since the weighty bulk of our Vessels would not suffer us to save ourselves by flight; and we waited not long in that posture before they poured themselves upon us with a skilful fury.  
They were indeed a part of Zenodorus fleet, commanded in his absence by his Nephew Ephialtes, one of the boldest Pirates that ever road the Ocean, who without measuring danger, either by the number or force of those he encountered, had made it his custom to charge all that came near him; the combat was begun by the Pirates, and their shock sustained by our men with a great deal of resolution, my ignorance will not let me describe you the fight in parts; but Madam, shall I give you a short list of my resentments, at that present? indeed I cannot choose but tell you, that the detestation I still cherished, of the very thought to espouse Tigranes, and the grief I took for Artaban's misfortunes had left me so little care, or love of life, as I can hardly say that death looked ugly enough to affright me; and if I may assume the liberty to undisguise my criminal thoughts without a reserve, I think Artaban's danger was attended with as large a portion of my fears; as those that regarded my proper safety.  
In the mean time an interchanged cloud of arrows reigned upon both parties, the Pirates quickly found a resistance, that made them wish the danger unattempted, and certainly the advantages they got, had cost them a great deal more blood, if Orestes (as if those famous Arms had refused to do service to their Master's Enemy) had not been tumbled dead at the feet of his men, by some of the first blows that were struck in the Combat, and my conductor Polynices, with one of the Median Ambassadors suddenly acquitted (by divers mortal wounds) of the the care to obey their Master's Commission.  
The Death of their Commanders distributed a terror among the common Soldiers, which froze up those Courages that were so hot as the Fights beginning, and losing all hope of victory, they disputed it so poorly, as the Pirates almost had it in possession when they least suspected it: They were upon point to board our Vessels, wherefore the Decks were then but very faintly defended, when inspired with a thought that deafened me to the threats of of danger, I boldly stepped upon the Deck, and heightening my voice that I might be understood by those in Orestes Vessel: My friends, cried I, if you desire safety, or wish victory, they are only to be had from the hands of Artaban, ease him of those irons that will not suffer him to succour you, give him but arms for your own defence, and hope for all from his valour, that man can do when he once fights at the head of you. These words succeeded to my wishes, for since Orestes death, Artaban had no more Enemies left in the Vessel; the Parthians that adored his virtue, whom the sole authority of Orestes enforced to keep him captive, that had so often taught them the art of overcoming, no sooner saw themselves at liberty to restore him his, but they ran down in throngs to release him, and even envied his own Squire the glory of putting the first hand to take off his Irons: while the overjoyed young man was doing this office to his dear Master, others hastily employed themselves in stripping Orestes carcase of those arms he had unworthily usurped, and Arno sooner saw his chains unlocked, when he felt his manly limbs reinvested in the same armour that had faithfully served him in so many victories, and when his warlike dress was completed, lifting up his sword and voice with a fierce cry: My friends, said he, in exchange of this freedom you have given me, I do here promise to requite you with victory.  
As he brought forth these words, he flew before them at the audacious Ephialtes that had newly boarded the vessel, and by that bold act provoked his fate; for the furious Artaban, darting himself upon him, with a source and swiftness like that of Lightning, prevented his design with a deadly thrust, which finding a default in his Arms, pierced him quite through the body, when after he had reeled two or three paces backward, he fell dead into his own Ship.  
The death of Ephialtes congealed the courages of his men, but the following actions of Artaban quickly stifled all their hopes of victory, and as if there secretly lodged a fatality in his Sword to all that opposed him, he carried it to no part of the fight, wherein he did not cut down Enemies in heaps, and change the fortune of both parties, with a prodigious promptitude; the actions he performed with his own hands, his admirable conduct, and the strong belief the Parthians had entertained, that his valour was invincible, brought forth such marvellous effects, as in less than one quarter of an hour, the Pirates changed their design of assaulting their Enemies to defending themselves, and prospered so ill in that too, as in less than another, they beheld their Ships covered with their fellows carcases, and the Sea painted with their blood.  
So soon as Artaban had chased out those Pirates that invaded his Vessel, he leaped into mine, and there it was I saw him do things in my defence, that would make an Infidel of the easiest credulity.  
In fine, the victory became entirely ours, the greater part of the Pirates lost their lives, two of their Ships were taken, and the rest saved themselves by flight, or rather by the small regard we took to pursue them; Artaban contrary to the Parthians inclinations, gave the Prisoners their lives, but he left all the booty to the Soldiers, and commanded divers of the Pirates into our Vessel, to serve in the places of those Mariners that we had lost in the combat. Thus after he had set the face of order upon all things that haste would permit him, he ran to me all covered with blood, in a posture that had half affrighted me, if he had not taken off his Casque as he threw himself at my feet, and discovered his face, wherein me thought the heat of combat had disclosed some new beams of masculine beauty, that I never saw there before; at least my fancy was so deeply enchanted with that apprehension, as it degarded my judgement so far to let the Medes and Parthians then present see me throw my arms about the neck of the kneeling Artaban, and lean my head upon his with an action so tenderly passionate as at this very confession of my weakness, I feel the warm blood is come into my cheeks to accuse me.  
Madam, I will not trouble your patience with the repetition of those disordered words that Artaban and I exchanged at that point of time, and indeed they were too full of confusions to deserve recital: and if his liberty gave him some satisfaction, I was so ravished with joy to see him in so different a condition to that he appeared in but a few hours before, as I could not express my contentment better, than in showing by a few disjointed words that I could not express it: In fine, after I had raised him from his knee, and presented him to the Parthians; Well Parthian, said I, do you judge Artaban worthy to return to his chains, or enjoy his part of that liberty his valour has given you? if you have done him a courtesy in permitting him to fight for your defence, I hope he has fairly enough requited it to deserve the continuation.  
The Parthians answered me with loud cries; Artaban, said they, is not only free but still our General, and you Madam are our Sovereign Mistress, to whom we owe, and will ever be ready to render all sorts of obedience: Do you all promise me this, replied I, and may I securely repose a perfect confidence in this affection you have expressed to your Princess? Yes Madam, answered they, you shall never desire any thing at our hands that we will not undertake at the peril of our lives to serve you. If that be so, said I, turning towards the Median Ambassadors that escaped the combat, you may go home to your Master Tigranes, and tell him from me, that Elisa will never be a partner of his bed. The chief Ambassador replied something in the King behalf, and assuming the liberty that his office and quality allowed him, menaced the Parthians with the power of Tigranes and his Allies to revenge that indignity: but in fine, they were forced to suffer what they felt themselves too feeble to prevent, and with those few men that Fight had left him, he entered into a Ship I had caused to be consigned him, and took the way towards Media, full of grief for the sad success of his negotiation.  
If Artaban had left any anguish for what was past, he then saw his sufferings drowned in a flood of unexpected joy; and though he had utterly given over treating with any hope, at least not such a one, as aimed at my rejection of Tigranes, to put him in his place, without the consent of those that nature impowered with a right to my submission, he took such a comble of contentment, to see me openly renounce a Rival, whom in a few days he thought would be confirmed in the possession of his Elisa, as he felt some time to tie himself to the rules of temperance, fell again at my feet, gave them a thousand kisses, made me as many discourses full of transport, that was Rhetorical without method or connexion, and proved it by all his behaviour, that a courage able to defend itself from the rudest blows of Fortune, had not strength enough to hold in a headstrong joy; but if Artaban was seized with these excesses of satisfaction, and if my own were little short of his, to see myself freed (by such a favourable accident) from the power of a man I detested, and another plucked from the jaws of death, and restored to my arms, that I loved above my life, I think their pride of his contentment and mine, was abated at the same time with the same thoughts that assaulted it.  
'Tis true, I saw myself delivered from the hands of Tigranes, or rather from an insupportable slavery, that looked with a more dreadful face than death itself; but when some soberer thoughts had gained my attention, I easily perceived by the help of their eyes, to what a perplexing Dilemma that event had reduced me. 'tis true, I loved Artaban, and if the election of a husband had depended upon none but Elisa's will, I preferred him (as he was) before the greatest of that Sex, but I never humoured the least inclination to espouse him without my Parent's consent; nor harboured any intent of exposing my name to the Age's obloquy, by an unexamined act so full of levity, and so little a kin to the greatness of my birth; besides the public notice of his passion gave me some apprehension of blasting my repute by remaining in his power, against the King my Father's intent, but then to condemn myself again to the rigid hands of Phraates was that I could not resolve, for besides my inducements to dread a man that never had pity for the nearest of his blood, the gentlest treatment I could expect from that furious Father, was first to be used with a great deal of cruelty, and then sent shamefully back to Tigranes to wear out my life in a bondage that had no parallel.  
Artaban saw something in my looks that secretly pained me, and requiring the cause, I discovered all with an innocent freedom, not so much as reserving the least part of the truth from his knowledge; he was troubled to make his defence good against their considerations, but as he was a friend to reason, and had always a ready submission to my will, he quickly brought his judgement to an agreement with mine, and easily cleansed his breast of those desires that might expose me to reproach. Madam, said he, I am resolved that neither passion nor interest shall dissuade the execution of your commands, no though they should condemn me to lead you back to Phraates, or give you up into the hands of Tigranes himself, I would not disgrace my obedience so much as with a murmur, but if heaven has not been deaf to your adorers wishes, that you think the retreat to either of those Courts can neither be safe nor pleasing, command me to carry you whither you please, and I beseech you do not wrong me with a thought, that I will ever take advantage of your sweetness to name a request (though in the humblest manner) that may make the same a sufferer: but if my opinion be not erroneous, the securest and most decent receptacle that can be thought of, will be to the King of Lybia, Father to the Queen your Mother: 'tis true the way thither is long, and you will be constrained to travel part of it by Land; but if can take a resolution strong enough to overcome the difficulty, there are many inducements to the voyage that declare their favour to your wishes; besides that affection which the nearness of blood, and the fame of your: virtues has gained you in the King your Grandfather, the distastes he has justly conceived of Phraates cruel humour, and his mortal enmity against Tigranes, will doubtless induce him to protect you from the latter, and empower you, by degrees, to make your peace with the King your Father: in the mean time you may live there in the quality of his Daughter, till time and nature shall mollify your Father's marble heart, and beget an occasion to break his conditions with Tigranes.  
This advice of Artaban appeared so rational, as I could find no objection weighty enough to fill the other scale against my consent, and after I had tenderly acknowledged, how much his virtuous complacency to my will, and the noble care he took of my reputation had obliged me, I readily consented to the present execution of his prudent advice, protesting that no consideration should ever lessen the faith and fervour of my love: and if my Parents proved inexorable to all mediations, and entreaties that laboured our marriage, at least their threats and promises, reasons and rigours should all be lost upon Elisa, who would never admit any other in the quality of a husband.  
The comfort of this promise, and the vows we both interchanged, for a time quitted the greatest part of our cares, and after Artaban had caused the Vessels to be cleansed of the blood that defiled them, and the dead bodies to be buried in the Sea, we disposed our Canvas to accept the favourable breath of a wind, that blew towards the shore of Iberia, where we were first to land.  
Madam, it is not necessary to tyre you with the recital of a tedious voyage. In short, we traversed the Caspian Sea, to the Port we intended, and there providing such things as were requisite for our journey by Land, we passed by the foot of mount Caucasus, saw the Sarmatique Ports, and having crossed Iberia and Colchis, we reimbarqued, and passing through the Euxine Sea with three Vessels that we hired, spread our sails for the Coast of Africa.  
Alas how treacherous was the tranquillity of the winds and waves? how short lived the quiet of our spirits! it seems the Gods had not freed us from a foregoing misery, with any other intent than to plunge us in a greater, or rather the deepest that ever imagination sounded. Poor Artaban, thy valour only served to prolong thy misfortunes, and wretched Elisa, the Gods only brought some ease to thine, with a purpose to exquisite the sense of thy last calamities.  
The forth night after we embarked was already well advanced, when the mutinous waves began an insurrection, abetted by the most raging tempest that ever frighted a Pilot, all the winds declared themselves against our safety, the waves flew up as if they had taken up the Giant's quarrel to storm Heaven again, and the danger became so dismal as the skilfullest heads and the hardiest hearts among us began to despair of life.  
We had only three Ships in the company, whereof two carried our Soldiers and the third only myself, Artaban, my women, and the officers of my house; a while they withstood the angry Elements without separation, but in fine, dispersed by the impetuous winds, and driv●n to a large distance from each other without hope of rejoining, our Vessel was left alone to the mercy of those enraged floods, that flew upon us with a sensible increase of fury. A thousand Images of death presented themselves to our affrighted fancies; but the unfortunate Artaban took all his fears upon my account, and the care he had of my safety, made him neglect his own in that manner, as he seemed to let fall and disavow his title, to wit, his great courage was utterly unable to charm the pangs of his grief, and he detested his own life, because his uncharitable sorrow charged it with the guilt of destroying mine: In the mean time the tempest roared every moment louder, and at last raged to that extremity, that our mast was broken, and our ship reduced to the miserable obedience of being governed by the tyranny of Sea and fortune: all my women were half dead with fear of death, and (the weakness of sex considered) 'tis easy to believe I felt my share in the common calamity, but the inconsolable Artaban was all this while embracing my knees, letting fall new floods of tears at my feet, and offering the Gods, with a prodigality of nobleness to die a thousand times over, upon condition they would pity me and save my single life.  
Thus we had spent two entire days, and a great part of the third night, when the billows (as if they had been tired with so violent a motion) began to take a repose, that let in a little glimmering of hope, to Artaban and the Pilots, I say a little, for the storm had so miserably torn our Vessel, as the forwardest among us could see but little more than a possibility of escape: the ship drank water on all sides, the mast and rudder were both broken, and the Mariners forced (all their skill now became ineffectual) to refer themselves only to the courtesy of heaven for deliverance: the rest of that night we were carried up and down at the uncontroled will of the winds, and she had scarce begun to disband her shades, when we descried a great fire upon the water: though this spectacle appeared very strange, yet it lent us some rays of comfort, and our men took courage at that sight to employ all their strength and art, to get our miserable Vessel nearer to a place, where they expected to receive-some succour.  
The day's arrival drowned a great part of that light, in his own that out-shined it, but by the aid of those clearer beams, we received objects at a truer dimension, and the first that saluted our eyes, was presently known by the Pilot for the stately Alexandria.  
The comfortable sight of this City perfected some half-drawn hopes within us, when in the midst of our toil to get near the fire, we beheld two ships of war make towards us, to oppose our passage, and having laid us aboard on both sides, they commanded us to yield.  
Artaban, unused to be overcome by words, quickly got into his Arms, and presented himself upon the deck like a man resolved to sell his liberty: but he was followed by none but his own Squire, and of all those that wore the faces of men in our Vessel, there was scarce one beside himself that had a heart undismayed at the number of our Enemies: I was terribly affrighted at the sight of Artaban's rashness, and believing (unless stopped in time) it would infallibly cost him his life, I commanded him to render himself, as well because it was as utterly hopeless, that he alone should maintain the Combat against five or six hundred armed men, as likely by a perverse resistance, he would provoke the cruelty of our enemies upon us, (who if we set the face of submission upon our miseries) might perhaps be drawn to some compassion: the fear to involve mine in his own destruction gave a sudden birth to his obedience, and he had no sooner let fall the point of his Sword, when our Ship (grappled on both sides) was become full of Enemies in an instant; at the sight of me, their Captain let fall some signs of respect, but the faces of him and some of his men were no sooner discerned by those Pirates we had taken to supply their places in our vessel, that we lost in the last Combat (who with the rest of our people had followed us, all our land voyage, with outward pretence of obligation and acknowledgement for the mercy and mild usage they received at our hands, though indeed with an intent very different) but running to him with loud cries: Ah my Lord! said they, ah Zenodorus! See the cruel man that has made us his slaves, defeated your forces, and killed your Nephew Ephiastes with his own hand.  
These words spread the face of Zenodorus with a trouble that presaged a fatal effect, and regarding Artaban across, Is this the man, said he, that slaughtered my forces, and murdered Ephiastes? the Pirates confirmed their language with loud exclamations, and Zenodorus no longer doubting the truth; Let him die, said he, let the butcher of Ephiastes die, or rather let the wretch be taken alive, and suffer such punishments as are cried for by his bloody crime.  
This barbarous doom was no sooner given, but a hundred swords were drawn upon Artaban, who daring all with a brave derision, and shooting a furious look at the face of Zenodorus: Yes, Pirate, I will die, said he, if be that killed Ephiastes must not live, but before I dismiss mine, perhaps I shall send thy black soul to keep thy Nephew's company: at these words he flew at Zenodorus through the throng of his men, for he knew it impossible for himself to escape. Zenodorus avoided Artaban's thrust by starting aside, yet he could not throw himself so far from his reach, but he catched him in his strong arms, and desperately pressing towards the deck, he threw himself and his Enemy (as his revenge had tied them together) backwards into the Sea: but the waters would not suffer him to perfect his intent, and separating those hateful embraces in the fall, Zenodorus (not encumbered with arms) easily kept his head above water by swimming till his men brought him succour, and the unfortunate Artaban carried to the bottom by the weight of his, did there sink down with himself, all my hopes, all my joys.  
When the Princess arrived at this deplorable passage, she felt it impossible to pursue her story, before she had paid such lamentable Obsquys to the death of her dear Artaban as touched the fair Aethiopian's tender heart with a true grief for her misery; and instead of staying the course of Elisa's tears, she mingled the stream with a silver shower of her own, let loose by a just compassion.  
It was long before Elisa's sighs and tears would let speak, but when she had once cleared the passage for her words; Thou didst die, said she, my faithful, my generous Artaban, and I stay here among the living to consecrate the wretched relics of a languishing life, to register and repeat what I owe to thy dear and illustrious memory in thee I have lost all that in my eye was lovely upon earth, and I think the world could not have parted with any thing greater and more truly estimable than thyself: but Artaban I must adventure to say, that thou didst not totally die, since there is still a part of thee (unravished by the hand of death) in the heart of Elisa, and so long as that little parcel of life shall last, to which the Gods have condemned me, thy memory shall ever be as dear and never die but with herself.  
After this Rhapsody of grief she dried her eyes, and turning towards Candace; What remains to tell you, Madam, said she, (besides that my own weakness acquaints me with a necessity of drawing to a period) is very inconsiderable.  
I was present at all that past, had heard the Pirate's words to Zenodorus, trembled at the cruel command he gave them, and turned pale at Artaban's furious resolution: but when I saw him fall into the Sea, I fell too into a desperate swoon, that snatched all the knowledge from me of what had passed: the recovery of my spirits roused the remembrance of my loss, and I regained the use of my tongue to no other end but to breath complaints, that would have softened any thing with pity, but the rocky souls of Pirates: when my senses returned, I found myself laid upon a course bed with Urinoe and Cephisa standing on either side, and only them two the Pirates could not fright from my attendance, who had resolutely told them, they, would sooner choose to throw themselves into the Sea, than forsake their Mistress; they had put the rest of my Servants into another vessel, and divided them into several shares (before I knew how they were used) as a part of the booty.  
Zenodorus essayed to give me comfort, but when he saw I was utterly incapable of receiving it, he left me to his Lieutenant's care, himself appearing with the marks of a deep discontent in his face, for something that had befallen him.  
It was the loss of you, Madam, that touched him to the quick, and I think (with design to learn what had befallen you) after he had rode at Anchor in the same place the rest of that day, without going nearer the shore; the night following, he secretly landed with twenty of his men, leaving me in the Vessel under the guard of his Lieutenant, whom he commanded to attend them there and not to stir from that place till he came back again.  
This Pirate permitted me during the remains of that night to take such repose as my sorrows would licence, but coming the next day to my bed's side (where I lay breathing out my soul in sighs, and melting into tears, the winds and ways of grief for my loss, resolving a quick dispatch of my life by shutting up my tears from comfort, and my mouth from nourishment) he began to make love to me with a brutish rhetoric: if my force had equalled my spite, I think I had torn out his eyes, however weak as I was, I made shift to handle him coarsely enough to put him to a cold retreat, but a few hours after he renewed the assault, and by the hateful prosecution of his suit, taught me so true a repentance for surviving Artaban, as if Urinoe and Cephisa had not violently rescued me from my own desperate resolution, I had infallibly thrown myself into the Sea; he was content for a few hours more to attend his Captains return, but at last perceiving Zenodorus came not, and spurred by a base and bestial inclination to rob him of the prey he had committed to his keeping, he quitted the place where he promised to attend him, put off to Sea, and took a contrary course to Alexandria, with all the hast his Canvas wings could make.  
When once he saw himself absolute Master, he easily resolved to abuse his authority, and after he had lost some breath in persuading my consent to his will, he began to make force his executioner of the black purpose, which certainly would have made me run blushing to my death, if the Gods had not sent some ships to my succour commanded by Cornelius to scour the Sea, upon report of Pirates that infested it, by these Romans the Sea robbers with their Captain, were all cut in pieces: and thus the unfortunate Elisa was snatched from the gulf of her greatest danger, conducted to this City and brought to these lodgings, where she had the honour to see and embrace the great Candace, from whose dear society alone she has already received more comfort, than she could ever have hoped while her soul and body are companions.  
And now, Madam, continued she, I have brought my woeful story to a period, and acquainted you with accidents rarely found in the fortunes of a Princess of my age and extraction, you have heard the confessions of my faults, and though perhaps they have justly incurred your censure, I have laid them naked before so perfect a candour, as I can hope for nothing less than your pardon, as a just debt to those merits that made me guilty; & my Artaban as he lies in his watery grave, is now more glorious than ever, since a Princess has thought him worthy of her precious tears, whose compassion is able to change the condition of the miserable, and sweeten the very gall of fortune's malice.  
Thus did Elisa wind up the clew of her story, and Candace had scarce patience to stay the finishing, when she tenderly pressed her between her arms, and making some affectionate kisses speak the prologue to what followed; 'Tis true my fair Princess, said she, your misfortunes are capable of engendering an equal grief to yours, not only in the tender and unpractised heart of a young Princess, but even stagger the surest-footed constancy in the firmest and best fortified souls, yet (all this granted) I cannot recunt my opinion that the valiant Artaban may still be among the living, the place where he fell into the Sea (as I guess by your recital) is near the shore, since it cannot be far from that where I fired the Vessel, and forsook the thought of a possibility to escape the danger; Madam, why might not heaven send him succour as well as me, especially since experience makes it no wonder to see persons overcome and survive greater perils, than the same you saw him assault so fiercely. Ah Madam, replied Elisa with a gesture, wherein sorrow had apparelled itself in sweetness, how deeply am I obliged to your generous compassion, and how well-pleased with the knowledge, that (to flatter my grief) you are contented to shape me out some comfort which is not the workmanship of your own opinion; however it be, in obedience to you, I am willing to wait for some extraordinary favour from Heaven, and make room in my soul for a few of my banished hopes to come home again, which I could not entertain without a previous consideration, how hard it is for your excellent judgement to mistake.  
They had amplified these civilities, if Gallus returning from the dispatch of some affairs that detained him that whole day, had not come into the chamber and interrupted the progress; his presence broke off the Dialogue, and as well during the time of their repast, as the rest of that evening, which he passed away in the Lady's company, they only entertained him with discourses of indifferent things, till the night came of age to send them to their several Couches; the Ladies were very loath to part, though their separation was to last no longer than the next morning.  
We will leave them for a few days in possession of those mutual sweets they tasted in each others society, to follow the tract of Caesario, whom we left in pursuit of the Pirate Zenodorus.   
The end of the third Part.   

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA: OR, Love's Masterpiece. PART IU.  

LIB. I.  
ARGUMENT.  
Caesario pursuing Candace 's Ravisher, meets with his Brother Alexander in the company of a fair Lady, mistakes him for Zenodorus, and defies him to a Combat, but having lost much blood in a former fight, he falls from his horse. He is courteously taken up by Alexander and his company, carried to their Mansion; there, by the help of Surgeons he recovers his spirits, and after some mutual endearments, Alexander gives him the History of his life. He gives a relation of the infant-affections between him and the Armenian Princess Artemisa, in the Egyptian Court. The ruin of Anthony and Cleopatra part them. Artemisa is sent into Armenia, Alexander to Rome, where he is nobly educated. He accompanies Tiberius in his Dalmatian Expedition, where he contracts an intimate amity with a Noble Armenian, called Artamenes, who shows him Artemisa 's Picture, and acquaints him with his unsuccessful love to that Princess. The sight of that Picture renews Alexander 's former flames, and engages him to visit the Armenian Court. Artamenes dies of his wounds received in the battle; After which Alexander privately takes a voyage into Armenia, and there by the assistance of Narcissus, now his Squire, he gets a sight of the Princess, under the borrowed name of Alcippus, a pretended Servant to Artamenes. He gives her an account of his death, which she receives with pity and grief. She entertains Alcippus into her service; she suspects his quality; and at last he discovers himself to be Alexander.  
THE valiant Son of Caesar ran after Candace's Ravisher with a fury fleet as the wings of Lightning, and the swiftness of his course was such, as he scarce left any print of his horses feet upon the sand: the loss of blood that ran along his arms, from two or three deep wounds in purple streams, to the earth, had much enfeebled him, but neither his grief nor weakness had power to retard his pursuit, and a deeper wound than any of those he received from the arms of his Enemies, still forcibly detained some spirits, that would fain have sawm down those rivulets of his blood, with the rest that were already gone, yet he sadly felt them steal away by degrees, but if he regretted their loss, it was rather because they withdrew their forces from the succour of his Princess, than the conservation of his life, and in the heat of his career, lifting his eyes to heaven, with a bewitching plea for aid in his very action; Gods, said he, Gods, that in extremest perils, have reached me rescue with a miraculous hand, do but respite your decrees, and either preserve or restore forces to this languishing body, sufficient for Candace's relief, and then, without a farther reprieve, dispose of my destiny as you have ordained it, but do not increase your severity with a counterfeit mercy, and after (when unprepared with expectation) you have showed her to me, and snatched her back again like lightning, do not blast the blooms of your divine goodness, let me not be mocked with a seeming bounty, and lose her the same moment you gave her back again.  
The Deities did not listen when he uttered this ardent prayer, and his angry fortune decreed it, that by reason that part of the coast was covered with a great quantity of sand, he soon lost the tract of Zenodorus horses, and quitting himself to the insensible direction of Chance, and the providence of those Divinities he invoked, he struck into a tall Wood that lay in the way, which presented more likelihood of refuge to a thief in his view, than any of the adjacent places: the roads were fair and beaten, the first he saw was his indifferent choice, and he ran upon it for a great many furlongs, as if he had been loath his horse should tread upon any thing but air; he warmed the winds as he road with a thousand sighs, and the woods got the name of his beloved by heart, which (in imitation of him) they Echoed round in loud repetitions; he could not keep any patience when he considered the fantastic tricks of his fortune; Candace, cried he, must the same minute be a witness to thy restauration and ravishment? am I doomed to meet with harsher usage in my native Country, than in either Nubia or Aethiopia? After I had vainly travelled a vast tract of waters, where thou wert lost, in quest of thee must fortune show thee to me upon earth, and steal thee away again like a flying shadow? or am I so wretched to abuse myself with the force of a wounded fancy, and believe Candace presented to my eyes, because she was always present in my memory?  
That thought for a few moments made some impression upon his spirit, but then he called to mind some particulars that quickly wiped it out, and his fancy urging the fresh Idea of what had befallen him, No, no, continued he, I am not deceived, it was the true person of my fair Queen that appeared unto me; my ear has not yet parted with the sound of her coalestial voice, since she pronounced the name of Cleomedon so often, and I saw Eteocles with her, who I know came to me, and took up arms in my defence; 'tis Candace herself I seek, and these unfortunate places where I took my birth, are the very same that detain her from me, and of them I must demand her.  
His reason (then blinded with excess of passion) he addressed himself to things insensible, and enquired news of Candace, even of dumb objects; but at that time discerning another road, that crossed the same, he had long followed, he spied the fresh tract of divers horses had lately passed that way: this sight revived his little hope and quickly concluded his choice of that road, not so much as taking a list of his own forces, or considering the number of his Enemies; pursuing this tract, he left Alexandria at a pretty distance on his right hand, and in a short time, finding himself at the end of the Wood, he spied through some clouds of dust, that rose from the feet of divers horses, a fair house, situated upon a neighbouring hill: at the view of this, Caesario, redoubled his career, and when a nearer approach had given him the objects at a truer dimension, he discovered a Chariot drawn with six black horses, and guarded by some Cavaliers; as he came nearer he heard the voice of a woman, and taking an easy belief from the anticipation of his fancy, that it could be no other than his Queen, furiously spurring towards the Chariot with a great cry, Stay Traitor, said he, stay Barbarian, thou carriest away but half the booty, and thou oughtest to win what remains untaken, if thou desirest to purchase an entire prey. At these loud menaces, and the sight of him that pronounced them, preparing for the Combat with an action wholly terrible, the Chariot being stayed, there leapt a man out of it, and mounting a horse that was led by for him, he spurred up to Caesario with a countenance fierce as his, and drawing his Sword which he carried, advanced in the air as he approached his Enemy; And what art thou, said he, that darest thus disturb our Progress with thy audacious menaces? The Son of Caesar lifted his eyes to the face of his Enemy, where he met with features that already began to engender a doubt of his mistake, when those forces that his passion had powerfully detained above the Laws of a natural order, forsook him, and left not so much strength behind, as would either serve him to lift up his sword against his Enemy, or return him one single syllable in answer, his arms hung down with a loose negligence upon his thighs, no longer able to hold an erected posture, his head was fallen as low as the saddle bow, and a little after he dropped from his seat, and fell without sense upon the sand.  
When his foe, that was ready to charge him, saw him weakly reel upon his saddle, he stopped short in his career, and presently after perceiving him fallen to the earth, and there lie stretched at his Horse's feet, insensibly sending away the rest of his blood through divers large advenues, he was struck with amazement at so strange an adventure: Compassion presently took the place of his surprisal, and though he had atcheived a defiance from that man, whom he believed he had never injured, he could not behold him in that distressed estate, and not resign his anger to a generous resolution of essaying to relieve him; besides the beauty and Riches of his arms (where in those places that were not defiled with blood, the Roman Eagles, might be seen to glitter among the Godl and Jewels about them) easily persuaded him that their owner was no ordinary person; possessed with this opinion he suddenly leapt from his horse, and having called some servants that attended, to assist him, he approached the swooned Prince, and commanding the rest to stop the current of his blood, if possible, he disarmed his head of the rich Cask that covered it, to facilitate his breathing; the majestic visage of Caesar's Son seized the officious stranger with a deeper astonishment than the first, and suddenly touched with some secret motions of respect and affection of an unknown lineage (by their incitement) he added every moment a tenderer care to the Prince's assistance.  
He was thus diligently busied, when a Lady of an excellent Beauty, with two others that followed her, came out of the Chariot, and desirous to go a share in that charitable action, she approached Caesario, and employed part of her women's linen to stop the mouths of his wounds: the Princes brave aspect did at once beget and excuse her wonder, and in spite of those disadvantages that flowed from the loss of his blood, and the flight of his spirits, even in that dying condition, he preserved still grace and beauty enough to inform his fair Spectator what he might possess in the supplement of those pale defects, and animated by this Spectacle with an unusual ardour to succour him, she did not disdain to make her own fair hand the instruments of her pity, thus by her example inviting and obliging the rest to imitation of her charity.  
They had already taken off the Prince's Arms, and directed by the blood in his wounds, had begun to bind them up, while one of the company ran for water to recover his spirits; when they saw a man on horseback spurring towards thein upon the same road and was no sooner come near enough to discern Caesario in the middle of the Troop, that environed him, but suddenly throwing himself from his Horse, and hastily cleaving the crowd to get to him: Ah my Prince, cried he, ah my Lord, in what a sad estate have I found you; It was the faithful Eteocles that had swiftly followed his dear Master by the sad, yet certain directions of his blood that he lost in the way.  
The name of Prince pronounced by his inconsiderate grief, drew the companies attention to his words with more curiosity, and while with a greater diligence than the rest, he laboured his Master's recovery, the fair Lady in very civil terms demanded his name and quality: Eteocles, who till then had scarce strayed one single glance upon any other object from Caesario's wounds, at that summons did a little loosen his regards, and raised his eyes to the Lady's face, where reading the respect was due to her in the lines of a majestic beauty, Madam, said he, pardon me if my trouble, derived from the sad estate wherein I find my Master has too long deferred the payment of what your quality may challenge; I dare not speak his name without his permission (at least if the Gods leave him still upon earth) and while I timerously attend the event of his wounds, can only tell you, that there is not a Prince in the world more worthy than himself of those succours you have lent him.  
The fair Lady was ready to reply, when Caesario, whose blood had been stopped by the linen they applied to his wounds, having drawn in some fresh air since they uncovered his face, began to open his eyes, and returning to himself by degrees, at last entirely recovered the use of his senses; the first service they did him, was amazedly to regard the troop that intoured him, and part of that little blood left unspilled, proved the servant of shame in his cheeks to see himself half naked before persons of an extraordinary appearance, when Eteocles, willing to ease him of the pain of that surprisal, Come, said he, rouse your great Courage to your aid, if possible, and do not reject the courtesy of these noble persons that have so generously assisted you.  
Caesario presently knew Eteocles by the tone of his voice, and turning towards him with the lively signs of comfort in his looks, Ah my Father, said he, and where is the Queen? Eteocles' unable to make him an agreeable answer, was dumb to his question, and the Prince, easily guided to find the truth by his silence, lifting his eyes to heaven, Oh Gods, said he, and why do you not permit me to die, if my life be decreed ineffectual to my Princess succour; Sir, said Eteocles when I saw you pursue the Ravisher, I took no other care than to follow your footsteps, which does not disprove the likelihood that those we left in the combat, almost in possession of a certain victory, recovered her. Alas replied the Son of Caesar, how long will be the file of my misfortunes that are yet unsuffered?  
The beauteous Lady, and he that was Master to the rest, regarded the faces, actions, and discourse of Caesario and Eteocles, with a serious attention, and the young Cavalier, that in so small a number of minutes, had voted his ruin and safety, borrowing desire of a newborn affection to comfort him, and already shaping his behaviour to a fit apprehension of the Prince's quality, Sir, said he, there is much error in my observation, if you have not courage and constancy enough to contest with the greatest misfortunes, and I make it my earnest request, that you will not hinder our ambition to be instruments of your safety, by giving up those weapons to this that afflicts you; I hope your wounds are not dangerous, and if you will accept of a place in the chariot with this fair Lady (who you see does interess herself in the return of your health) and trust my promise of a hearty entertainment in a house of mine a mile distant from hence, I must presume to say, you will there find every thing more commodious, and more care within those walls to serve you, than any Alexandria is likely to afford you.  
The civility of this language fastened Caesario's eye upon him that spoke it, and judging him the same that a little before his Error had chosen for an Enemy:  
You throw away your courtesy, said he, upon a man that has deserved a courser treatment; but I see you can pardon the offence of my mistake, when I rudely interrupted your voyage, and I am contented you should freely dispose of a life which you have entirely purchased by the care you took to preserve it.  
To confirm these word, he no longer opposed their desires, and feeling his limbs so fettered to that degree of weakness, as he could scarce raise himself from the earth, at the earnest entreaty of Eteocles, he permitted them to carry him from thence into the Chariot, where the Ladies placed themselves about him: in the mean time the young Cavalier remounted his horse, and road by the Chariot side, as it softly advanced towards a fair house, that showed itself upon a hill, while one that attended the Chariot, by his Master's command, posted away for Surgeons to Alexandria.  
By this time Eteocles, and Caesario himself, tormented as he was, with the double anguish of his grief and wounds, found leisure to contemplate these unknown persons that succoured him; and if the noble strangers had been surprised at the confluence of graces they met in Caesario's mind, he did not find fewer marvels in their faces, nor less cause of admiration; the Lady was fair to that degree of excellence, as there were few ornaments of Nature's skill upon Earth had a right to plead precedency: in her Eyes, Port, and Actions, there shined something so sweet, so noble and attractive, as it was not safe, for them that loved their liberty, to look upon her; she was clad in a Gown that hung loose about her, beset before upon the sleeves and skirts, with high prized Gems, her Arms and Neck half naked, unless her Hair, nearer to black than fair, that fell down in long curls about it, with a negligence preferable to the best art might pass for a Vesture; but if the Lady had few Parallels of her Sex in beauty, he that accompanied her was one of the miracles of his own, and possible the World had not another, whose face, features and symmetry came so near perfection; he had then scarce lived above nineteen or twenty years at most, and at that Age, if but assisted with the habit of the softer Sex, might have passed for one of the fairest Ladies in the World; yet his beauty, though very delicate for a man, deciphered no effeminacy, sweet and fierce were both due Epithets to that rarely mingled lustre of his eyes, wherein the braided contrarieties of Soldier and Lover seemed to contest for priority; instead of a close Casque, he wore nothing but a little Murrain covered with feathers, upon his head, that denied no part of his face to the view: the colour of his Armour was composed of a shaded Argent, enriched with little Landscapes of Gold, curiously wrought, the sleeve and skirts of his Cassock were tissued with Gold and Silver, his Buskins of the same materials, beautified in certain spaces, like the lower parts of his Cassock, and the sleeve covered with little tasses of silver, like that of his Cuirasse; in this double dress of Art and Nature (far more lovely than the fair Italian Boy, when he gave away the golden Apple) he drew the eyes of Caesario upon him, with a more serious regard, than in that estate, he could have bestowed upon any other object; he felt his grief and anguish too weak to take off his eyes from the deep study of some old Ideas, which that young face, by the help of a natural instinct, awaked in his memory; Eteocles (not exempted from such thoughts as these) being got on horseback near the young unknown, fell greedily to examine his features, or rather to devour them at the eyes, which, observed by Caesario, confirmed his opinion that he had not mistaken that face, when his conjectures told him 'twas not a total stranger to his knowledge.  
As they were taking the glad account of these thoughts, which yet they had not mutually imparted, they arrived at the house, where the young Gallant and the Lady were attended by some domestic Servants, who, in obedience to their commands, received the Son of Caesar with a grand respect, and served him with a great deal of care and affection; he had not been long in bed, before some Surgeons they had sent for to the City arrived, and presently searched his wounds, which they found very great, but not mortal, owning no other danger of the Prince's life, than what might be imputed to his loss of blood; the two fair ones gave a glad welcome to these hopes of Caesario's recovery, and imposed a care upon themselves to see him diligently served with all circumspection. He was no sooner left alone with Eteocles, but he asked him a hundred questions in a throng, and whatever caution that loyal servant intended for his Master's health, he could have no quiet till he had related all that befell the Queen since he first trusted her to his charge, till her last surptizal: it was well Eteocles had not seen the face of Zenodorus, nor known it was he that carried Candace away, for if the Prince had understood that she was fallen again into the same rude hands that had stormed her honour so violently, not all his wounds and weakness could have kept him from presently spending the miserable remains of his life to the last sigh in her succour; he first began to hunt for comfort in the height of his unconquered courage, capable to make good his defiance against the cruelest attacques of Fortune, thence did his thoughts recur to the memory of those perils, which Heaven, against all appearing possibility, had so often helped him to overcome, and from this last consideration he learned to trust some hopes of Candace's safety to the same goodness; besides these, the anguish of his wounds, did a little dull the sense of his inward sufferings, and at last his Fever became so violent, as it scarce left him any judgement to reason with his misfortunes; this enforced his obedience to the Surgeon's orders, and the good Eteocles more passionately desirous of his Masters dure than he that wanted it, that might oblige him silence, resolved to answer him no more; while some of the first days passed away in this manner, his beautiful entertainers discreetly paid him their visits at such seasons when their courtesy might not disturb him, & so shone as the remission of his malady gave them leave to see and discourse with him oftener they let fall no occasion to be civil, and there were very few hours in the day, wherein either the fair Lady, or the handsome stranger were not still by his bedside, to keep him company; without discerning the reason, they felt a secret impulse of extraordinary affection one towards another, and if in the manly and majestic mind of Caesar's Son, the noble youth met charms that taught respect, and engaged affection, Caesario made himself acquainted with some resemblances in his, that besides the obligation he received, had got a very kind entertainment in his heart; they were both pained with an equal desire to know each other, but, because he had already tried it upon Eteocles in vain, discretion bridled the young man's curiosity, and Caesario contented himself to be indebted to him for his life, without naming a request that might oppress his civility; yet at last he could not overmaster some motions of tenderness that carried him beyond circumspection, and as his suspicions were stronger, and his conjectures grounded upon clearer appearances than any the unknown could frame to excuse his curiosity, he was the first that ventured to put his desire into words, and one day perceiving him near his bed, where he still carefully rendered him such offices, as are seldom found, in so young a friendship, after his eye had seriously perused his face, Sir, said he, 'tis just I should content myself with the knowledge that my life has lately been the gift of your nobleness without steping farther into fresh obligations, or hastily exacting younger proofs of your bounty, especially being newly laden with others so great and weighty, but besides that, Nature's law enjoins all mankind to court the acquaintance of those that have engaged us, methinks I see somewhat in your person, that by a particular interest, has inflamed me with another kind of curiosity than I ever yet resented, if therefore my request be not too unwellcome, pray let me know to whom I am indebted for my life, and yet I had rather sit down unsatisfied, than ever offer you the trouble of changing any resolution to keep yourself concealed. The young Cavalier, that burned with an equal desire to Caesario's, tenderly embraced that occasion to content him, and willing to engage the Prince, by the insinuation of a free confidence to a requital by a like discovery: Sir, said he, I shall not offend truth in affirming, that I never felt a stronger passion in my life, than to obtain the same favour from yourself you demand, for besides that, I have taken an impression from your looks, of something in you that is very great and sublime, methinks I descry some resemblances there, that time has not totally wiped away from my memory, which do equally beget and awake within me the sense of a high respect, and a tender love to your person. I shall gladly know when you are pleased to reveal it, for whose sake it is I have so suddenly conceived them: in the mean time, for you I shall get an easy victory upon my repugnance in breaking the design to keep myself concealed from other persons: I am called Alexander, Son to the infortunate Antony, and the great Queen Cleopatera, and born in the first year of their marriage, at the same birth with my Sister the Princess Cleopatra.  
Caesario, confirmed by these words, that had not guessed awry, was almost ecstasied with an intemperate joy, and all those passionate workings of the soul that ever bubbled the secret sympathy of blood at such encounters, did then powerfully possess themselves of his, with an excess of tenderness, prompted then by the ripened beauties of his dear brother: at the same moment did he call to mind what they were in their blossoms, while they were brought up together in their age of Innocence at the Court of Alexandria; nor had a ten years' separation spread so great a change upon his visage, that he could not easily retrieve those first marks of his Infant beauty: Alexander had a harder game to play in his discovery, for besides that Caesario's complexion, by reason of his residence in the broiling climate of Aethiopia, must needs suffer a greater alteration than alexander's could do at Rome; they were divided at a time when Caesario's fancy was far stronger to retain the images of things, than his brothers, that wanted four or five years of his age; besides, his memory drew another disadvantage from the general report of Caesario's death, and therefore no wonder if his aims were made unsteady by a supposed impossibility of ever seeing him again.  
In these agitations of Nature's raising in his spirit, the son of Caesar had all the pain in the world to restrain himself, and how strongly soever he held the bridle of his passion, he could not hold in these words; How, said he, are you Alexander Son to Anthony and Cleopatra? Which again confirmed by the young Prince, he was ready to reveal himself, and throw up his arms to give and receive such Caresses as were mutually due on both sides, when some other considerations stepped in to stop the passage of that freedom, and defer his discovery for a few days longer.  
Eteocles, that had kept his affection like Religion, to the memory of his royal Mistress and her illustrious family, and no sooner heard the name of Alexander, but in the loyal heat of his transport was ready to throw his embraces about him, yet prudence checked his passion with a strong hand, till he saw which way Caesario would bend his behaviour, but collecting from his carriage that he had no intent to make himself known so suddenly, he composed his own by that pattern, that he might not slack his Master's resolution.  
Caesario for a time kept a fixed eye upon his Brother's face, and pressed his hand with a great deal of ardour; at last, said he, Indeed you are sprung from a royal stock, that for many weighty reasons I must ever honour, I cannot hear the names of Anthony and Cleopatra, and not bow my heart in reverence to their memories; within a few days I shall give you some particular reasons why I mention them in this manner, and undisguise you my birth, and fortunes, with the whole story of my unhappy life, whereof some important considerations forbid me now to tell you any more that I am called Cleomedon.  
Alexander, unwilling to press him farther, for fear of disobliging; I will wait the time your pleasure shall prefix, said he, for a clearer declaration, and perhaps the free and reserved relation I intent you of my life, may purchase from you a greater confidence to trust me with yours: but, if the request might not importune you, I would gladly demand if you be the same Cleomedon, whose reputation is arrived among us, and the same that in a few of these latest years, for the Aethiopian Crown, has done such great actions, and gained so many famous Victories in Nubia. The report of those inconsiderable things I did there, replied Cleomedon, could never have come so far, if Fame in the publishing had not adulterated the truth with some of her own additions; but 'tis true I am Cleomedon, that in the Queen of Aethiopia's service did make war, and got some battles against the Rebels in Nubia: do not use me so hardly, to think that any distrust of you can persuade me to keep a drawn Curtain betwixt us, if I were not strictly forbidden by some strong reasons, which you yourself will not disapprove, when you once understand them; I would open my heart unto you as my proper brother, and when I may safely give myself leave to appear to you without a mask, I shall acquaint you with things that will challenge your astonishment, and I hope show you cause to confirm me that affection, which is yet the only gift of an unmerited nobleness.  
Alexander, that in his Travels had every where met with the high voiced renown of Cleomedon's actions, regarded him as a person extraordinary, and the fair Lady that had all this time been present at their parley, gave him all the respects which the bruit of his virtue (that had likewise traveled itself through the Country where she was born) made her believe he had right to.  
Caesario, who had cause to think he never saw any face (Candace's only excepted) that equalled hers in beauty, kept his eyes fastened upon her visage, in a posture that expressed his astonishment, and by degrees reviving things in his remembrance that had long lain gasping there, he sensibly began to fancy some lineaments in that face he had seen before; this apprehension quickly raised an unquiet dispute in his thoughts, and he had concluded her to be the Princess Cleopatra, if an imperfect retention of his Sister's air and aspect, very different from those, had not prevented that opinion; besides he saw Alexander's behaviour carried a great respect, and a deep observance to the Lady, far distant from that freedom and familiarity which such a nearness of blood might allow.  
Alexander, that had heedfully traced the several steps of his eye, was resolved to unshadow all to his curiosity, as well to make known by the entire reposal of such a secret, how highly he esteemed him, as to offer a fair invitation of requital again in the same nature, and after he had turned towards the Lady in a posture that seemed to ask her permission of what he had to say, I see, said he, you have met something in my words that you think very strange, and if report has exactly told you of my birth and education, you cannot but wonder to see me in this Equipage in the train of this beautiful Princess, in a Country (that though it be my native soil) is now to me grown as foreign as any other in the Roman Dominion, in a private melancholy house, and in fine, in a condition that implies some extraordinary events in my fortune: but if my Lady pleases to licence the relation, I will give you a single survey of every link, as it hangs upon the chain of my story, and render you a precise account of the weightiest and most estimable accidents of my life.  
If Cleomedon thinks, replied the Princess, that a discourse of this nature can deceive or infensate his pains, I shall be very unwilling to oppose it; and though you cannot give it him entirely, continued she, with a delicate composition of smiles and blushes in her cheeks, without recounting some passages, that I have cause to fear may purchase me his censure, I have too little repentance for what I have done, not to suffer the recital without displeasure, provided it may sweeten his with any allay or mitigation.  
Caesario's sick mind and feeble body might well have excused his refusal of a long attention to the story of a stranger's fortunes, but the interest he took in that noble Brothers, caused him for some moments to keep in awe the violent effects of his grief, when after he had smoothly acknowledged her obliging complacence to the Princess, and handsomely complemented alexander's freedom in parting thus with his secrets to a stranger, he disposed himself to receive him.  
The Princess modestly conceiving that some parts of the story were not fit for her presence, left the Chamber to go walk in the Garden with her two women, and Alexander making choice of a feat near Caesario's bed, after he had called the Surgeons, and taken their assurance, that neither the noise of his words, nor the Princess attention, were in any danger to control the approaches of his health, he began the history of his life in these words.  

The History of Alexander and the Princess Artemisa.  
THey have much truth on their side, that say we have no stronger inclinations than those, which first establish themselves in our spirits, and 'tis certain that they take much deeper root in a heart which never received any other impressions, than in those who having been long acquainted with passions, have found out the means of fortifying themselves against their powerful assaults; you will see a sufficient evidence of this in the discourse I have to make you, and you will find in this conjuncture of my life, somewhat so various, and possibly so extravagant, that I should hardly find examples to authorise what it hath made me do, if I should have need either of authorities or excuses after the success of my enterprise.  
I was born in Alexandria upon the same day with the Princess Cleopatra my Sister, and I came into the World at a time, when possibly no Family whatsoever could boast of a Fortune, which might equal that of ours: I had scarcely faluted the light, but I had a great train, of Princes at my service, and we could hardly go, but the Queen our Mother being prepossessed with the excessive affection she bore us, or that Pride, which without doubt drew down the indignation of Heaven upon our House, instead of making us to be educated like Princes, she caused us to be reverenced in Alexandria like little Gods; she made us take their very habits, and oftentimes presenting my Sister and myself to the People under the form of Apollo and Diana, she made us receive servile adorations from them. Anthony being preoccupated with the extreme love he had for her, approved all her actions, and by her solicitation in our very infancy, we were declared publicly Sovereigns of the greatest Kingdoms of Asia, and the Prince Caesario our Brother, the Son of Caesar and Cleopatra, was proclaimed King of Kings, and brought up in those hopes, which afterwards the event did cruelly frustrate: I pass these things slightly over, both because they are known to all the World, and also because the memory of them is unpleasing, and in some sort shameful to some who saw themselves afterwards, and do still see themselves reduced to a far different fortune: Nevertheless I am obliged to make some stay upon my infancy, since in that age it was that I received, though imperfectly, the characters which I carry at this day, and shall eternally carry in my heart. You may possibly have heard the relation how Anthony at his return from the War which he made against the Parthians, wherein, though he gained many victories, he received very considerable losses, whereby he was obliged to return into Egypt, without any fruit of his expedition, made high complaints against the King of Armenia, accusing him for being the cause of the loss of his Army, by not sending those assistances and supplies which be was obliged to furnish him with, according to their league and agreement, and for favouring the Parthians in all things, out of envy to his glory; and in fine, after he had published the reasons which he had, or believed he had, to accuse him, he surprised him, and took him Prisoner, with part of his Family, and brought him as it were in Triumph to Alexandria, where he presented him to the Queen laden with chains of Gold, and detained him in an hard captivity. I have heard something of that, said Caesario, (who knew all those things more perfectly than Alexander, and yet seeing him pass them succinctly over, would not interrupt him) and there are few persons who have not heard of the puissance of Anthony, at the time of your birth, as also of his expedition against the Parthians and the unfortunate imprisonment of Artibasus King of Armenia. This knowledge of yours, replied Alexander, will spare me many things which I must have declared to a person less acquainted with the affairs of our Family; and I shall only tell you, that there were taken with Artibasus three of his children, a Son of ten years old, and two Daughters of the age of seven or eight years: these three young persons were three miracles in beauty, wit, and all the qualities which can be remarkable in children: the little Ariobarzanes (for this was the name of the young Prince) had a mind so excellent and sublime, and did already show so much vivacity and greatness of courage in the meanest of his actions, that there were wonderful hopes conceived of him; and the two Princesses, at that age, gave all that saw them cause to judge of their beauty, that it would one day rank them amongst the most sovereign beauties of the Universe: I was about their age, and yet notwithstanding my tender youth, I remember very well all things which came to my knowledge: I was near the Queen when Artibasus was brought into her presence: And I too, said Caesario within himself: I saw, continued Alexander, how he threw himself at her feet, being followed by his three children, and how the Queen, after she had received him with disdain enough, and given him some reproaches for his want of friendship to Anthony, sent him back to the place appointed for his securement, and commanded him to place all his hopes in Anthony's goodness, and to support his fortune with patience.  
This great and powerful King, but much inferior in all things to Anthony's who possessed with an absolute authority the moiety of the worlded Empire, continued prisoner at Alexandria, and endured his misfortune with a remarkable constancy: his confinement being of great importance, he was guarded with a great deal of care, and his Son likewise was very straightly looked to (though he were but the youngest, and the eldest Artaxus heir to the Crown continued in Armenia, Anthony failing of getting him into his power, as he did the rest of the Family) but the Daughters enjoyed as much liberty as they could wish, and they were brought up at Court, not as Prisoners, but as the Companions of the Princess Cleopatra my sister. There was little difference in their beauty, and yet some there were which gave the Princess Arsinoe some advantage over her sister Artemisa; nevertheless, though I were acquainted with the admirable qualities of Arsinoe, my inclinations, without knowing any reason for it, directed themselves towards Artemisa, who was younger than Arsinoe by a year: This Princess, by a sympathy which powerfully acted in the beginning of our affections, permitted at the first that I should contract all the amity with her that we were both capable of, her beauty, which gave at that time marvellous hopes of its future excellence, already made impressions in the soul of a child of seven or eight years old, and the sweetness of her spirit, and the gracefulness which accompanied all her actions, did so Captivate my heart that it was impossible for me to live without her; I disdained all sorts of entertainment, and all manner of company to enjoy hers, and I had this happiness too that she expressed no greater inclinations towards her own brother and sister, than she did to me: If any from Anthony or Cleopatra enquired after the little Alexander, they must look for him in the company of the little Princess of Armenia, and they had so much ado to get him from her, that she was fain oftentimes to follow him to the place whither he was sent for or otherwise they would have hardly got him thither without tears, and grand expressions of his displeasure. The Queen diverted herself sometimes with these innocent testimonies of our affection, and causing us to play together in her presence, she pleased herself to hear our conversations: She heard me one day talking to her more seriously than my age did seem to permit; Artemisa, said I to her, I am afraid you do not love me: I love you, said she, as well as my Sister: That is not enough, replied I, for I love you much better than the Princess Cleopatra: And how would you have me love you then answered the young Princess? As you do yourself, said I: As myself? replied Artemisa, ah? Alexander, that will be impossible, for I love nothing like myself, and I am very sensible that when I take any hurt, I could wish it to any person in the world rather than to myself; but next to myself I will love you as much as any thing else in the world besides. Artemisa, answered I, I protest to you, that when I see you suffer any harm, I resent it so much, that I would willingly endure it myself to ease you: If it be so, said she, I confess, Alexander, that you love me better than I have loved you hitherto, but for the future, I will do what I can to render you the like affection: I humbly entreat you to do it, added I, otherwise I shall never be satisfied.  
The Queen my Mother was much pleased to hear this discourse, and having told Anthony of it, he was pleased oftentimes to make use of the same diversion. Jealousy too began already to mingle itself our affection, and I remember that Anthony seeing me one day extraordinary sad, and having asked me before the Queen, and before Artemisa, and her Sister, (who at that time was in the Chamber) the cause of my sadness: I am sad, said I, because that Artemisa hath not looked kindly upon me to day: You have nothing to do with my looks, answered Artemisa disdainfully, and you are sufficiently satisfied with the caresses which my Sister hath rendered you all this day: Artemisa, replied I, your Sister's kindnesses do not please me like yours, and if you would have me, I will tell her in your presence, that I love her not in comparison of you: You will do me a pleasure, briskly answered the young Princess, for she hath hit me in the teeth all this day, that you you have quitted me for her with disdain, which hath angered me very much: Arsinoe, continued I, turning myself towards her Sister, if you have any such thought, you deceive yourself, and I desire to acquaint you in your own presence, that I love Artemisa much better than yourself.  
Arsinoe, who in an age so full of innocence, had a composed spirit, and admirable knowledge, troubled not herself at my discourse, and Artemisa was so satisfied with it, that from that moment she began to look more kindly upon me.  
I am tedious in relating to you these petty effects of Nature; but these beginnings of my life have been of such importance in relation to the last events which have happened to me, that I am forced to make you a slight mention of them, and to prepossess you with the opinion that I was really amorous of Artemisa at that time, when by the privilege of my age I was permitted to see her, that you may be induced to excuse those things which the memory of these beginnings caused me to do at an age more capable of reason. During this time, as without doubt you have heard, the war between Anthony and Octavius Caesar broke out into such a flame, that all hopes of peace were extinguished, and these two being Masters of the greatest part of mankind, did so eagerly pursue each others ruin, that nothing was capable to divert the destruction of him that was most unfortunate: In the time of this war, the King of the Medes, the ally and friend of Anthony, but an irreconcilable enemy to Artibasus, continually importuned Anthony and Cleopatra to put him to death, and offered them in requital, his forces to serve them in the war against Caesar, but they rejected his propositions, and could not resolve to use so much cruelty to a great Prince, who by his ill fortune had fallen into their power; they persevered a long time in this resolution, and I believe they would have continued so still, if her misfortunes had not exasperated, or rather changed the inclinations of Cleopatra.  
The famous battle of Actium was fought, wherein by the Queen's flight, the fortune of our Family was totally ruined, and the victorious Caesar found himself in a condition to pursue the remainder to the gates of Alexandria. Then it was that the King of the Medes redoubled his solicitations for the death of the King of Armenia, and sent to offer Cleopatra in the absence of Anthony, the whole forces of his Kingdom for the head of Artibasus: the pressing necessity of her affairs, and the despair to which she saw herself reduced, might make the Queen hearken to the propositions of the cruel Mede, but yet she would not have disposed herself to grant him what he demanded, nor have stained her memory with a blot which will never be wiped off, if at that time she had not been informed that the eldest Son of Artibasus, who remained in Armenia, having declared himself King, served Caesar with all his forces, and did highly threaten to ruin Anthony and Cleopatra, and be cruelly revenged for the injury they had done to his Family. The resentments of this Prince were just, but the spirit of Cleopatra being as I told you, exasperated by her misfortunes, she did that out of despite, which she would never have done for any other interest; and giving ear to the pressing solicitations of the King of the Medes, out of a boiling precipitation, which was too late repent of, she caused the head of the unfortunate Artibasus to be cut off, and sent it to his enemy.  
I pass over these things succinctly, as being known to the greatest part of the world, and as belonging to the life of that great Princess, whereupon we have less occasion to insist: As very a child as I was, I remembered that this action struck me with such a horror, as by all likelihood I was not capable of; and the young Artemisa having received this loss otherwise than might have been expected from her age, I continued weeping with her divers days, no body being able to get me out of her company: as I wiped away her tears, I mingled my own abundantly with them, and though after their Father's death, neither the Prince, nor the Princess, came any more to the Palace, but confined themselves to a sorrow conformable to their condition, those who had the care of my education had no quiet with me, if they did not continually have me to Artemisa, and the Queen, who did much indulge me, and could not condemn this inclination of mine, permitted them to give me this satisfaction as often as possibly they could. I said to her then, with a countenance as sad as her own, You will love me no more now, Artemisa, and possibly you will bate me after the displeasure you have received from the Queen my Mother. I repeated these words to her divers times, and she answered me, Alexander I will love you still, for it was not you that killed the King my Father: No Artemisa, replied I, it was not I, and I believed I should part with my own life, to restore the King your Father his.  
We were about ten years of age when we had this discourse, for it was almost about the same time that the final misfortunes of our family happened: you have heard without doubt that Caesar came to besiege us in Alexandria, and that Anthony having lost all his hopes, and believing he had lost the Queen too, who was more dear to him than all the world, dispatched himself with his own hands; and that Cleopatra desiring to avoid the shame of the triumph for which Octavius intended her, ended her life by the sting of an Aspik, which at that rate, saved her from the ignominy that was prepared for her; and that Caesar having rendered himself quiet possessor of all things that were in Anthony's power, carried us to Rome, my Sister Cleopatra, my bother and I, I mean my brother Ptolemy, younger than I by a year; for as for the Prince Caesario, the son of Julius Caesar and the Queen, a Prince incomparable hopeful (whose memory you have awakened in me by your sight, and by some resemblances which I find in your visages, according to the old Idea which remains in my memory) he was killed by the cruel order of Augustus by the way to Ethiopia, whither the Queen our Mother had sent him.  
Hitherto, a out of complacence only, and for fear of discovering himself, Caesario had heard things which he knew as well as the person who related them, but seeing him about to enter upon the discourse of those passages which were not as yet come to his knowledge, he gave ear with more attention than before, and heard him pursue his narration in this manner.  
Before we departed from Alexandria, Caesar sent back the Prince, and the two Princesses of Armenia into their Country with an honourable convoy, and many presents and testimonies of his amity to the young King of Armenia their brother. I was almost as sensible of this separation, as I had been of the greatest of our misfortunes, and having obtained permission to bid Artemisa adieu, I thought I should have melted into tears at her departure, she embraced me divers times, and according to the liberty indulged to our tender years, she permitted me to render her my caresses in the same manner: Artemisa said I, with a rationality somewhat above my age, you are going at your liberty, but we remain slaves, but I assure you my captivity is not that which afflicts me most, and amongst all our miseries I find nothing so unsupportable as our separation: This was, at least the sense of what I said to her, but I know not whether I could range my words in this order at that time or not: Artemisa seemed to be moved with them, and accompanying the tears I shed with some of hers; Alexander, said she, I would with all my heart you might go with us, and I am sensible that I shall be much afflicted when I shall be deprived of your sight: Ah, Artemisa, replied I, you will remember me no more, and when you are grown bigger than now you are, you will be served by so many Princes, that you will entirely forget your poor Alexander you leave behind, who loves you so dearly. I will never forget you, replied Artemisa, and if you love me still, when you are grown a man come and see me, and you shall know whither I have lost the affection I have for you: I will do it, Artemisa, I will do it, answered I with precipitation, I will come one day and put you in mind of the promise you have made me, and if I had now liberty to wait upon you, nothing in the world should separate me from you.  
This was our conversation, after which I was constrained to let her depart, and I stayed behind with all the grief that at that time I was capable of.  
A few days after their departure, Octavius took us with him to Rome, we arrived there, and since I must needs confess our shame, we served as an ornament to the triumph of our Vanquisher: if we had been of ripers years, we had without doubt, according to the example of the Queen our Mother, avoided by our death the ignominy they made us suffer; but besides that our youth took from us almost all sense and knowledge of our condition, we find some excuses for it, and accuse fortune only for the calamities whereinto we were fallen through her cruelty. Not long after the virtuous Princess Octavia, sister to Augustus and Wife to Anthony our Father, whom he had forsaken for Cleopatra, and who in spite of the unworthy usage she had received from her Husband, had always taken his part at Rome against her Brother, although he took up arms partly for her quarrel, dwelling still in his house, and managing his estate as if they had agreed the best in the world, received us not as if we had been her Husband's children, but as her own; she put us entirely into the possession of Anthony's estate, which Caesar had left him, and she treated us in the same manner as she did her Son Marcellus, and her Daughters, as well those which she had by Marcellus her former Husband, as those two which she had by our Father: we began according to her will to converse, with her Family, as if we had been all Brothers and Sisters; but the Empress Livia finding somewhat extraordinary in the Princess Cleopatra my sister, by the permission of Angustus took her to Court, and bred her in a garb little different from that of the Princess Julia. We were brought up with as great a care as we could have been in the greatest lustre of our Family; and if at Rome we were not called Kings of Kings, and had not titles full of pride and vanity, nor a numerous train of Princes as at Alexandria; yet it is certain that we were educated like Marcellus, Tiberius, and the greatest young Princes that were bred in Rome, and through the generous care of Octavia there was nothing wanting that might form our nature to things worthy of our birth. My Brother Ptolemy and I had towardly inclinations, and a disposition great enough to learn as well the exercises of the body, as those sciences wherein they employed our minds, and we proceeded in both with a very general approbation: Augustus having extinguished in the death of Anthony all the hatred he bore him, looked upon us, and treated us as really, as if we had been the Sons of Octavia, and according to his example all the persons of the greatest importance in Rome, or of the most illustrious families took it as an advantage to be allied to ours, and considered us almost in the same manner as they could have done in the time of Anthony's greatest fortune. In the mean time (that I may return to give an account of the inclination I had to Artemisa in my very infancy) I will tell you, that the tender youth wherein we were separated, being not capable of a strong and solid settlement. Time, as you may well imagine, did partly wear out of an Infant's mind an impression which it could not long conserve; it was a hard matter that at nine or ten years old a firm affection should be form in my Soul: but certain it is, that the continuation of time was never able to banish this memory out of my spirit, and though I grew to a more rational age, the Image of Artemisa never returned into my thoughts, without leaving some tenderness and passion behind it, without drawing sighs from me, and without putting me for some time into the sweet thoughts of my infancy. I carefully likewise preserved a Ring and a Bracelet of her hair which I had received from her; and whatsoever coldness there arrived in a passion which at an age like ours could not strongly establish itself, I desired always to carry about me with high respect the precious marks of the affections of a great Princess: This is all that war left of it then, and it is probable, that no more could have remained of it, and that this remembrance would have been totally laid to sleep, if it had not been awakened again afterwards, as I will relate unto you. In the Interim, if Ptolemy and I grew in stature, and divers qualities, wherein according to the judgement of the Romans, we had sufficiently profited, Cleopatra our Sister arrived to such a degree of beauty, that the general voice of Rome published it for the most rare, and the most accomplished that ever appeared within the circumference of the Empire; and all those who had formerly pretended to handsomeness, yielded her the advantage at an age when she had hardly had time to show herself. Amongst a great number of illustrious Adorers that she had acquired, Tiberius the Son of Livid by Drusus her former Husband, and Juba surnamed Coriolanus, the son of Juba sometimes. King of Mauritania, were the most considerable: Marcellus, as I believe, at the first had a very strong inclination for her, but his compliance to Augustus his will, who had designed his Daughter Julia for him, or, as others believe, the amity he had for Coriolanus obliged him to disengage himself from it, and Tiberius and Coriolanus stood single to dispute their affections in public: though Tiberius was a person worthy of esteem for his birth, and many qualities he was master of; yet I confess my inclinations were entirely for Coriolanus; and that Prince hath such great and amiable parts in him, that it is impossible to know him without being absolutely his. I could tell you some things both of his valour and the virtues which accompany it, which possibly would make you prefer him before all the persons in the World: but I will reserve a more full relation till another time, and will only tell you at this present that the advantage which in my judgement he had over Tiberius, and all other persons that I knew, made me take his part, and obliged me to favour him in all that possibly I could. Those of either side signalised themselves by their addresses in divers actions of gallantry, and we began to appear amongst them when we approached our sixteenth year, and to put ourselves forward in all things, even beyond what our Age did seem to permit: the Emperor approved our forwardness; proceeding, as he said, from courage worthy of our birth, and Marcellus and Coriolanus showed us as much favour in it as possibly could be. At last I attained to the seventeenth year of my age, and I began then to desire some occasions to acquire a little reputation, and seek out means to advance myself by some actions of valour; I already perceived myself strong and valiant enough to undertake and support all things, and the glory of Coriolanus, Marcellus, and Tiberius, who had their essays in arms at an age not much different from mine, and by a thousand brave effects had already rendered themselves commendable to all the Romans, spurred me on with emulation. Fortune quickly gave me the means to satisfy myself, and upon some combustion that happened then at Rome between Coriolanus and Tiberius, about the love and the pretensions they both had for Cleopatra, the Emperor to regulate their differences, and to encourage them to his service by their mutual jealousy, and the hopes of gaining Cleopatra, gave them two equal employments, and sent them to command two Armies. Tiberius was designed for Germany against the Pannonians and the Dalmatians, and the Son of Juba against the Austurians and Cantabrians: At first my resolution was to follow Coriolanus in his expedition, but the Emperor at the entreaty of his sister Octavia, who saw me at that time a little indisposed, refused to give me leave, and forced me to stay at Rome till the departure of Tiberius, who went for Germany; I had no inclination to march with Tiberius, seeing I could not go with Coriolanus, but the Empress Livia having told me about that time, that if I would essay my fortune in arms with her son, she would obtain me permission; I thought I could not handsomely refuse this occasion of going to the wars, and I feared that the difficulty I should make of it would rather have been attributed to some other motive, sooner than to the inclination I had to march with Coriolanus rather than with Tiberius: I resolved then upon that voyage, which was in some sort contrary to my humour in relation to the Commander in chief, under whom I was to fight, and yet conformable to my desire too, in regard it conducted me to the near occasions of acquiring glory. The Empress procured me liberty to go, and I took my leave of the Emperor, and of Octavia, and all persons to whom either out of respect or affection I owed that regard, and having put myself into a very magnificent Equipage, little different from that of our General Tiberius, I departed from Rome with him and marched towards Germany: Tiberius the greatest dissembler in the world, though he knew upon several accounts that my affections inclined towards his Rival much more than towards himself, yet remembering that I was brother to Cleopatra, and that he might have need of me in the course of that service he had vowed to her, received me with all kinds of caresses, he treated me with a thousand respects and civilities; and when we were come to the Army, he offered me my choice of employments and commands over his Troops, but I did not abuse his offers, and being sufficiently conscious, that by reason of my youth, and want of experience, I was uncapable of a command, I desired to continue without charge, and to associate myself with the better experienced Commanders in those occasions which were presented. I was fortunate enough in my entrance upon arms, and if I may speak it with modesty, there were few encounters passed, wherein they that saw me fight, did not report very advantageously of me; Tiberius wrote to Rome concerning me with such Eulogies, as I could attribute to nothing but the interest he had to flatter me, and he would have persuaded all the Army that he had seen few persons so very young as I was, give such fair testimonies of valour: in exchange of that which he spoke of me out of complacence, I must needs really confess of him, that through the whole war he carried himself as well as the most valiant, and most experienced Captains could have done; and if his dealing sometimes with those he had conquered, had not favoured of an humour inclined to cruelty, he could not have returned with a greater perfection of glory than he acquired in this expedition: He took a great number of Towns, and was Victor in two signal Battles, and by his valour and good conduct in less than ten months he finished a war which in all probability might have lasted many years. Caius Drusus his younger brother by a year, who under him commanded the Cavalry, performed there a number of gallant actions both for valour and conduct, & gave great hopes to them which knew him, that he would be one day one of the greatest men of the Empire: I was present at all, which passed even to the smallest skirmishes, and I received some hurts, but they were all so slight that they never deprived me of occasions to receive new ones. My mind at that time enjoyed tranquillity enough; and since the death of Anthony and Cleopatra, our captivity and continuance at Rome, I had passed over eight years which were troubled with no other cares but what might proceed from my ambition, and a rational desire of reascending by honourable ways to those dignities from which we had been precipitated; but about this time my destiny, which for all that, I will not now complain of, raised me new troubles, and made me change for another course of life, wherein I have continued ever since, and to which I shall be fixed to my very last breath.  
There was in our Army an Armenian of an illustrious birth, being allied divers ways to the Royal Family, and of no common virtue, his name was Artamenes, he was at first presented to Tiberius to serve him without any command; but the knowledge we had of his condition in a short time, and the testimonies of his valour and prudence which he gave of himself, soon after obliged Tiberius to treat him with great civility, and to give him the most important employments of the Army: the sweetness I found in his conversation, and the characters of virtue I observed in him, quickly fixed me into great friendship with him, and after being augmented by little and little by our frequent society, became at last so great, that we were but seldom asunder, and hardly concealed any thing from each other: he was ordinarily very sad, but it might be easily perceived that his sadness proceeded from some secret cause, and not from his temper, I never enquired it of him, fearing to be troublesome to him, at last I learned it when I least expected it. I knowing that he was an Armenian, and brought up in the King of Armenia's Court, desired to inquire some news of him concerning the Princess Artemisa, to whom I had devoted my first inclinations, even at my very birth. I was informed that of all the Royal Family there were no more left in the world but the King Artaxus and the Princess Artemisa, and that the Prince Ariobarzanes and the Princess Arsinoe being sent to Rome by their brother to the Emperor, who had demanded them, were cast away at sea, to the great regret of all the Armenian Court. After I had heard this news which was unpleasing to me, I enquired more particularly concerning Artemisa, and the better to oblige Artamenes to inform me, I related to him the beginnings of my fancy, the acquaintance I had with the young Princess, and besides what I have told you, divers other things more at large that I have not mentioned to you; whilst I made him this discourse, I perceived that he blushed and grew pale again, and sighed every moment, and that in all his actions he expressed an extraordinary trouble: the fear which I had at first of his health obliged me to inquire of him the subject of that alteration which appeared in his countenance, and Artamenes seeing himself no longer in a condition to dissemble with me, Ah Alexander, said he, you have touched me to the quick with your discourse; and how happy are you that you did not know Artemisa, but at a time when she was not old enough to do you much harm, nor yourself of sufficient years to be sensible of any? Alas! continued he sighing, I have made but too sad proof of those powers from which your youth exempted you, and by them it is that I see myself now reduced to the most sad condition that ever was; I loved her but too much for mine own repose, and to punish me for having too audaciously advanced mine eyes towards her, she hath condemned me to eternal banishment; it is for the expiation of this rashness that I have forsaken my native country, and yet my flight cannot preserve me from an ill to which all the rest of my days are destined: Alexander you see my present condition, and that you may not judge that I am brought to this pass by ordinary powers, take notice by the portraiture of that Princess which by Artifice is fallen into my hands, whether Artemisa may be ranked among the meaner beauties: Compare, said he, as he was drawing out the box wherein the picture was enclosed, compare the imperfect draughts of a young child with the completest points of perfection; see if you can still find there the marks of that which seemed so beautiful in your eyes, and judge if you have not some obligation to your fortune, that it did not make you sensible of her forces, but when they were not great enough to wound incurably.  
Artamenes had not quite finished this discourse, whereby in discovering to me his wounds, he made mine bleed afresh, but I had already opened the box, and greedily cast mine eyes upon the portraiture of Artemisa. True it is that the Idea of the former beauties of that Princess which remained in my memory, made me expect some what very handsome, yet that which then presented itself to my eyes appeared to me very different from what I had imagined, and the beauty of Artemisa had received such a wonderful growth with her age, that I could not behold so much as her picture without being dazzled at it: I easily discovered the same lineaments that I had formerly seen, and the same sweetness in her eyes that she had in her infancy, but all was admirably heightened by a lustre which eight years time had added to it, and to the former sweetness there was joined a Majesty capable of imprinting respect and love in most insensible souls: I could not untie my sight from this dear image, which unperceivably recalled all my old affections, and if I had not feared to displease Artamenes by keeping his picture so long, I should have passed the whole day in this agreeable conversation; at last he took it again out of my hands, which did not quit it without some violence, and looking upon me with an action which seemed only to require my judgement, of what I had seen, Well Alexander, said he, do you find the Princess of Armenia, such as you left her at your separation? Ah Artamenes, answered I, with a sigh, how fair is Artemisa, and what a marvellous increase hath that Beauty received, which she had at the time of our first acquaintance? Take heed, replied Artamenes with a smile, that you do not find her too fair for your own repose; and if you will take my counsel, do not embark yourself upon that dangerous Sea where I have suffered shipwreck: Lions and Panthers have nothing in them so cruel as the disposition of Artemisa, and pity which is natural to persons of her Sex, hath no access to her. She hath reason to be cruel, answered I, if extraordinary advantages may create haughtiness in any, there is no person in the World in whom it may be more justly placed than in the Princess Artemisa.  
We had spoken more to this purpose, but that our discourse was interrupted by some of our friends; I was not at all displeased at it, for I thought it long before I was alone to entertain myself with the fair Image which did reassume its former place in my heart: I passed the rest of that day and all the night following in a deep musing, which would not let me sleep, and never possibly was any spirit more troubled than mine was at this rancounter. Artemisa presented herself to me then in a condition which could hardly find any resistance in a mind which had been prepossessed with affection for her, at a time when her powers were much different from what they were then; and the natural disposition I had to love, made my soul incline to that relapse with such forces, as it would have been in vain for me to oppose. Whatsoever advantages there were in the Princess Artemisa, the sight of the picture was not capable to give birth to my passion, if I had known them only by that, and the impressions of love which I had received in my fancy were not strong enough to kindle that fire in my Soul, if they had not been otherwise assisted; but my former inclinations being joined to the view of the picture to my former inclinations, and my destiny as I believe, having operated above all these natural causes, that passion whereof I had made essays in my infancy, insensibly possessed itself of my soul. All the most sweet and agreeable passages which had happened in the beginnings of my love, returned then into my memory; and all the proofs I had received of the innocent amity of that Princess, presenting themselves to my memory, I began to condemn myself either of lightness or negligence in slighting a fortune which well deserved that I should entirely engage myself therein: Why did I not continue, said I, what I had so happily begun? and why, having loved according to my power when I was not capable, why do I cease to love now when I am so? Ah without doubt the Gods by their just decree reduce me to my duty which I had ungratefully forgotten, and they have permitted me to have knowledge of the present beauties of Artemisa, only to make me acknowledge my fault, and to bring me back into the way which without any reason I had forsaken: they remember better than I, that I have promised that Princess a thousand times to love her eternally, and I remember very well myself, that I promised her at our separation to come and see her one day in Armenia, and that she required this promise of me as a proof of my affection; Why shall I not acquit myself of a word which I gave voluntarily? and what reason can dispense with me for the many and deep protestations of eternal fidelity which I made to that Princess as young as I was? Ah Alexander, rouse thyself out of this sleep which hath possessed thee so many years, pursue thy former inclinations; thy duty, and thy destiny itself, as thou may'st judge by so uncommon an adventure, calls thee to the service of Artemisa; she will not possibly be so cruel to thee as Artamenes represents her: if by what is past thou may'st judge of her inclination, she is not so inaccessible to pity as she hath appeared to this repulsed lover, and possibly she will call to mind her own promises when she shall see thee perform thine.  
By this kind of reasoning which flattered me, I introduced love into my heart with precipitation, but yet I wanted not another counsellor within me which represented such difficulties to me as might have been able to divert me from my enterprise, if I had been capable myself to consider them: I knew that I was the son of Anthony and Cleopatra, who against all right, both divine and humane, had cruelly put to death the Father of that Princess; and besides that, I might justly fear lest the Princess herself being come to more maturity of age, might bear regret against the children of her Father's murderers; I was not ignorant that the King of Armenia her brother, had conserved that irreconcilable hatred against the memory of Cleopatra, that he publicly declared it, and that he had used all endeavours to be revenged upon all those who by any proximity or alliance might have relation to her, and that upon this quarrel he had made cruel war upon the King of Media, who was son to him that had procured the death of Artibasus at Cleopatra's hands, which had not been ended but by the authority of Augustus; and that beside the just resentments which filled him full of animosities, he was reputed a severe Prince, and one obstinately wedded to his passions; knowing these things, I saw myself deprived of all means ever to serve Artemisa by the consent of her brother, and to obtain her of him by any service, though of never so great importance: I could not so much as see her without throwing myself into an enemy's country, and exposing myself to great dangers, but all these considerations were not strong enough to oppose the birth or return of my passion. Artemisa, said I, is the daughter of Artibasus, her brother, and all her relations are our enemies, and there is little hope of prevailing with them, and some danger in engaging myself in seeking occasions to see and serve her; but for all that I must love Artemisa, and all the obstacles which can oppose themselves to that design are too weak to divert me from it. I cannot openly desire her of her brother, because he is an enemy of the children and the memory of Cleopatra, but I may visit her privately, who possible hath not conserved resentments like to his; and I am not the first of those who upon occasions of less importance have passed divers years unknown and disguised in their enemy's territories: my face is not known in Armenia, and in the crowd of a great Court I may continue long enough disguised without being discovered; at the most 'tis the enterprise of a young man in whom his age may apologise for all; and though I shall hazard the danger of miscarrying in it, that is not enough to divert me from so glorious a design, and I cannot perish more honourably nor more contentedly than in the service of Artemisa.  
These were my thoughts which possessed me for many days, and this was at last my resolution, from which nothing was able to move me. I visited Artamenes oftentimes, who finding me musing and unquiet, contrary to my ordinary humour, imagined part of the truth; he gave me some knowledge too of the suspicion he had, and modestly questioned me about it; but though in those affairs I should have made no difficulty of confiding in his friendship, I did not believe that in this business, wherein he had so great interest, I ought to repose too much confidence in him. In the mean time I thirsted after nothing more than the battle which was to be fought within few days, being resolved to depart immediately after to go into Armenia, without communicating any thing concerning my voyage, but only to those whom I intended to take along with me. As fortune would have it, I lighted upon a conveniency for the execution of my design much greater than I expected; but I purchased it with a very sensible displeasure, which did strongly moderate the satisfaction I might have received from thence. The battle was fought as we had expected, and we gained the victory with all manner of advantages, which put a period to the war, it having reduced the Barbarians into a condition which made them submit to whatsoever Articles Tiberius was pleased to impose upon them: but in this days work we lost divers valiant men, and amongst the first Artamenes was brought back to his Tent, having received two mortal wounds. The affection I bore him made me run thither as soon as I had heard the news, and I found him drawing towards his end, having but some few moments to live: I expressed to him presently by all manner of testimonies the grief I had to see him in this condition: but if he were sensible of the marks of my affection, he showed but little apprehension of his approaching death, and he disposed himself to receive it with a constancy very conformable to the opinion I had of his virtue: After he had briefly answered my civilities, he prayed me to cause those who were in the chamber to withdraw a while, desiring that none might be witnesses of what he had to say to me, but only one of his Servants which he retained with him: and when he saw that no body heard us; Alexander, said he to me with a feeble voice, but an assured countenance, what care soever you have taken to conceal from me the pain you have endured some days since, yet I knew it, or at least supposed so, and I am too well acquainted with the powers of Artemisa to be ignorant of the effect they might produce in a soul, over which heretofore they had some power: you love her without doubt, or I am deceived in my conjecture, and the opinion I have that it is so, obliges me before I die to make you a present which possibly will be acceptable to you, and I cannot put it into better hands than yours. 'Tis the picture of Artemisa that I leave you, by the sight of that as I imagine, you have relapsed into your ancient affections, and in the possession of it you will find without doubt some consolation for the evils which her absence makes you suffer: if I be not deceived in my opinion, you will carefully preserve it, and all the recompense which I desire of you for it, if ever you see that adorable Princess, do me only the favour to testify to her my last thoughts, and the regret which accompanies me to my grave for having incensed her by the rash declaration of my Love, Artamenes spoke in this manner, and I was so surprised with his discourse, that I continued a long time without being able to reply: he thought I made some difficulty to declare myself to him before the man who stayed with us, and desiring to remove that scruple: Fear not, added he, to discover your thoughts to me because of Narcissus' presence, he shall be gone if you please, but he is a man faithful and discreet above all others, and possibly you may have occasion to make trial of his fidelity and discretion. This was not the principal reason that hindered me from answering, though it was some obstacle, but seeing myself assured on that part, and obliged to acknowledge by mine own freedom, that of the obliging Artamenes, Artamenes, said I to him, the testimonies of your affection are so dear to me, that I can no longer disguise my thoughts to you; and if I have done it hitherto, it was not out of any distrust, but only out of fear of displeasing you in confessing myself to be your Rival. It is true, that by the sight of what you showed me, my former affections are revived with such a force, as hath totally deprived my soul of all liberty, and that I am resolved to serve Artemisa (since by reason of your misfortune I may do it without offending you) to the utmost moment of my life. I receive the precious gift you bestow upon me with all the acknowledgement which is due for such a present; and I not only promise you, that if I see Artemisa, I will acquit myself of the charge you give me, but that I will go within these three days to see her, and I shall never be at quiet till I am in her presence, and shall make her a faithful relation of the obligations she hath to your fidelity. Artamenes having understood my resolution, seemed a little astonished at it, and continued a long time without replying, keeping his eyes fixed upon the ground, like one in a deep muse, but a little after looking upon me: Alexander, said he, you undertake no small enterprise, and you affront all manner of dangers which possibly you have not foreseen; but if you are fully resolved to see and serve Artemisa, which in the present condition of your affairs, you cannot do but in private, I can facilitate the means to you by making you another present, which is the faithful Narcissus, whom I bestow upon you, and of whom I desire at my death the same fidelity to you, that he hath expressed to me in the whole course of my life: he is of a very noble extraction among the Armenians, and he hath acquaintance in that Court that will not be ungrateful to you: you cannot find a more favourable adventure to advance your designs, and I believe I cannot give Narcissus a better recompense than to leave him in your service. I was about to thank Artamenes for his cares so full of goodness, when he fell into a fainting before us, and a little after breathed his last, without being able to utter one word more. I had really all the regret of the loss of a virtuous and obliging friend as he was, and it continued a long time in my heart before I could receive any consolation: the faithful Narcissus remembering his command, threw himself at my feet, and gave me the picture which his Master had given him, and protested to me, that if his service were acceptable to me, he would never forsake me while he lived, and that after the death of a Master who had been so dear to him, he could receive no comfort but in me alone: I found so much conveniency in this accident, and Narcissus was so agreeable to me at the very first, for the sincere and real grief he expressed for the loss of his Master, that I received him with open arms, and promised him whatsoever he hoped from Artamenes, and from a Master much more affectionate. Artamenes was interred according to his condition, and Tiberius, who assisted at his funerals with all the principal Commanders of the Army, testified a great deal of regret for his loss: his Equipage according to his order, was parted amongst all his Servants, and I employed myself to get them entertainment, and engaged them to other Masters to hinder them from returning into Armenia, where perchance they might meet me, know me, and discover me; I took the greatest part into my own service, but with a design to send them to Rome with my Equipage, meaning to take no more with me into Armenia, than Narcissus and two Squires, whom I loved above all the rest of my Domestics. After this I dreamt of nothing more than my departure, and having disposed all things to that purpose as well as I could desire, I took my leave of Tiberius, but I told him I was returning to Rome, being obliged to make all possible haste thither by some Letters which I had received from Octavia, which did not give me time to wait his return, whereunto he began to prepare himself: Tiberius made me a thousand caresses at my departure, and protested that he would render me a testimony before the Emperor of the gallant actions that I had done, and he forgot nothing that might serve to acquire him the brother of Cleopatra. I parted from the Army, and marched one days journey upon the way to Rome, but afterwards, in a place where we had lain, pretending some small impediment, I commanded all my people to go directly to Rome without staying for me by the way, promising to be there within two days after them, and telling them that for some reasons I was obliged to make this voyage without a train which might make me be taken notice of: nevertheless I delivered to one of my Servants a Letter for the Princess Octavia, (thinking that I was obliged to render her an account of my actions for the good offices we received from her) wherein I signified to her that a youthful curiosity engaged me to make a voyage into Asia, with a design privately to visit some Provinces, and to frame myself with the more conveniency to the foreign languages and manners, and that I would return to her in a short time, and ask her pardon for taking this little ramble without her knowledge. After my Equipage was gone, I took my way out of Dalmatia through Greece, which I crossed, attended only by Narcissus, whom Artamenes had given me, and two Squires, the one a Roman named Valerius, and the other an Egyptian, named Tideus, the son of Androclion, who was my governor, and Master of this house where we are. With this small company I came to Byzantium, and having crossed the Hellespont, I began to enter into Asia; I fed myself, during my Voyage, with the most agreeable hopes I could conceive, making no reflection upon dangers and obstacles which opposed my intentions. An hundred times a day I opened the Case wherein the fair present of Artamenes was enclosed, where I fixed my sight upon the beautiful visage of Artemisa with incredible ravishments, & oftentimes addressing my discourse to it, as if it had been capable of giving me satisfaction, I demanded of it the performance of the promises which the Princess had made me to love me as long as She lived. I concealed nothing of my designs from Narcissus, resolved to commit the conduct of them to him, as I was necessitated to do it in a Country where I had no acquaintance, but by his means; and having taken notice in the frequent conservations I had with him of the excellency of his understanding, and the address which he had to manage an affair of the same nature with mine, I made no difficulty to communicate to him my most secret thoughts; he gave me hopes which without him I should hardly have conceived, and I promised him recompenses conformable to the greatness of the services which I expected from him. But why do I trouble you with a relation of our voyage? there happened nothing to us worthy of your knowledge, and after we had seen divers Cities, and crossed over divers Provinces, without making any stay, or receiving any hindrance by reason of the profound peace which those Provinces through which we passed, began already to enjoy, we entered into Armenia, and at last arrived at the great and famous City of Artaxata, the seat of the Armenian Kings where the Princess was at that time with her Brother: Narcissus had an house in the City, where we alighted, and where I was resolved to stay not being willing to show myself at Court in public, for fear (as it probably might happen) that there might chance to be some person there who had seen me at Rome, and might discover me: At Narcissus' house I passed amongst his Friends and Kindred, who came to visit him, for one of his friends and a servant of the deceased Artamenes, and in their presence, according to the command I had given Narcissus to that purpose, he conversed with me as with one of his familiars. The longing desire I had to see the fair Princess, for whose sake I had taken so long a journey, deprived me of all rest for the first night I passed in Artaxata, and I could not conceive that I was enclosed within the same City with her, without abandoning myself to transporting thoughts: I flattered myself with a thousand pleasing imaginations, in expectation of my approaching happiness, and I meditated an hundred ways what discourse I should entertain her with at the first, and the means I should use to come into her presence: upon this account I was in no small disquiet, and though the Princess was of very easy access, it was difficult for an unknown person who desired to appear in a mean quality, to find an occasion to entertain her with any liberty: besides I was not willing to discover myself to her too soon not knowing whether she did yet retain the thoughts of good will she formerly had for me, or like her Brother, she were possessed with resentments and hatred against all the Family of Anthony: In this uncertainty I desired, I feared, I hoped, and I was at the same time distracted with divers different agitations which held me till the morning. I resolved at the last to take the commission which Artamenes had given me for the ground of the first discourse I intended to make to Artemisa, and having communicated it to Narcissus, whose prudence might extremely assist my youth in the conduct of my affairs, I found him of an opinion conformable to mine, and desiring to be guided by his counsel in all things wherein I might need it, I gave him an account of the greatest part of those thoughts that had troubled me the night before. As soon as I was ready, having understood by Narcissus the hour at which the Princess was accustomed to come almost every day to the Temple of Diana, which is in Artaxata, I went out without any company but himself, and under his conduct I went to wait at the Temple with those impatiences that are not conceivable: I took my station near the gate, that I might see her at the nearest distance, both coming in and going out; and though I was a stranger in a place which might entertain me with some novelty, I had all my thoughts so fixed upon one subject, that I hardly cast mine eyes one moment upon all the other objects that presented themselves: I believed that day, as my impatience made me judge, the Princess came much later than she was used to do, and this delay being insupportable to my desires, I turned myself divers times towards Narcissus, to tell him that Artemisa was the flowest Princess in the world. At last she came, and in my opinion, all that deserves the style of beautiful came with her into the Temple, and if the picture which Artamenes gave me did surpass the former knowledge I had of her, it seemed to me then that the picture was infinitely transcended by the truth; in her infancy she could only have imperfect lineaments, such as might ground an hope of those miracles she should one day be Mistress of, and though the form of her visage, and the colour of her hair were presented in the picture, yet the sweet motion of her eyes, the majesty of her port, and a thousand graces which were in her, could not be expressed by the pencil: I no sooner saw her appear, but my heart knew her, and took its flight towards her, and continued always with her, yet it was not without feeling at first a shivering and trembling throughout my body, which testified my transport, and if Narcissus being less passionate than myself, had not pulled me behind to give me warning to retire, I took so little notice of those who commanded to make way, that I should have directly opposed her passage: Ah! behold, said I within myself, behold that adorable Princess, to whom the Gods and mine own inclinations design me; I discern her by a thousand marks which speak her so, and though mine eyes might have mistaken, my heart would have showed her to me amongst all the persons upon earth. During all the Sacrifice, having seated myself in a convenient place for that design, I kept mine eyes fixed upon her face, and I was so happy at this beginning that once she turned hers upon me, and stayed them there a good while: Ah! Artemisa, said I, with a language which my looks only expressed, do you not know me? and have you so far forgot your former amity, that there remains no Idea of Alexander 's visage in your memory? I am the very same whom at an age full of innocence you began first to love, the same whom you commanded to return one day to you; and the same who by your orders only comes to confirm at your feet the protestations he hath made you.  
Though my mouth was silent, Artemisa might read this discourse in mine eyes, if she had been possessed with the least suspicion of the truth: but at that time having other thoughts, she was only attentive to the sacrifice till the end of it, and when it was finished she went out of the Temple, and remounted into her Chariot, leaving me the sight of her only for the advantage of this first days work; neither did I hope for any more, but retired myself to Narcissus his house with all the satisfaction I pretended to at my first going abroad: then I reflected upon what I had seen, and from thence passing to judgement upon what I resented, I found that if Artemisa was incomparably more fair than I had imagined her to be, I was a thousand times more amorous than I had been, or thought I possibly could be: about the end of the same day, I saw her as she walked abroad, and divers other times one after another I had the same good fortune, yet without speaking to her, or finding any opportunity to do it conveniently: In the mean time I accustomed myself to see her, and by that means I endeavoured to dissipate that fear which ordinarily suprized me when I saw her, which I took for one of the greatest marks of my passion. At last I was resolved to pass over my former difficulties, and not desiring to defer any longer what I had so maturely deliberated upon, I took my time one day, when at her departure out of the same temple of Diana where I saw her the first time, and where she visited almost every day the Virgins consecrated to that Goddess who dwelled there, she was walking on foot in the fair alleys which are within the enclosure of the Temple, into which access was permitted to all persons: She had already taken some turns, when Narcissus, as we had agreed, drawing near to one of the principal Officers of her train, with whom he was very well acquainted, he prayed him to present me to her, and to give me the opportunity to entertain her some moments with a business of very great importance: this Officer very courteously did so, and having spoken a word to the Princess, of whom he easily obtained the audience that I required, he made me a sign to draw near: I did reverence to the Princess after the Mode of her own Country; and when as I raised my head to look in her face, I saw her eyes fixed upon mine with a sparkling vivacity, which pierced me to the bottom of the heart, I was so surprised that I had hardly any assurance left to finish what I had begun, she went aside from her Gentleman-Usher, and the Ladies which followed her, about seven or eight paces, to give me the liberty of speaking to her, without being overheard; and after she had commanded me with a great deal of sweetness to declare what I had to say to her, striving against all the fear which kept me tongue-tied: Madam, said I, Artaments, whose Servant I was— she interrupted me at this word; Speak no more to me of Artamenes, said she, he is a man who hath offended me, and you cannot say any thing to me on his part but it will displease me. Madam, said I, if Artamenes were alive, I would not speak to you of him knowing that in his life time he displeased you by his audacious thoughts, but since he is no more amongst the living, I thought I might without offence render to his memory what he desired of me at his death: How, answered Artemisa, is Artamenes dead? He is Madam, replied I, and at his death he commanded me to assure you that he died without any other regret, but for having displeased you, and that having fought after death as the only expiation of his fault, he received it with joy, if thereby he might obtain your pardon for the fault he had committed against you  
The Princess out of the goodness of her nature was moved at this discourse, and showing some signs of sadness in her countenance; Artamenes did offend me, said she, but the resentments I had against him did not extend so far as death, and his fault was of such a nature as might have obtained its pardon of me by discontinuation and repentance without requiring any greater reparation: I have as much regret for his loss as one can have for the loss of a very virtuous man: and if I believed that I had contributed any thing to it, I should be very sensibly troubled at it a long time. It would not be just Madam, replied I, that you should find a Subject of grief, where he himself found his last comfort, and his condition is much more happy in that he hath appeased by his death an indignation which made him hate and fly life, than if he had lived to linger it out in torments which would never have caused your compassion: Time would have cured him, added the Princess, and that with the assistance of reason would without doubt have reduced him to a more comfortable condition: Time and reason, replied I, doth hardly cure evils like those of Artamenes, and by good reason time would have wrought no effect upon him, seeing that according to reason he could not raise his thoughts to a subject more worthy of his adorations.  
These words escaped me with little discretion, but I could not keep them in, in the violence of the passion which transported me, and the Princess in stead of taking my liberty ill, took some pleasure in it, and having a mind to oblige me to speak more, after she had called one of her Maids, she commanded me to relate the death of Artamenes: I did it in the most passionate terms that possibly I could, and I took notice that during my discourse, wherein the Princess seemed to take extraordinary delight, she kept her eyes fixed upon my countenance with a marvellous attention; I had hardly finished, but we saw the King arrive, who with a numerous train of Courtiers and his guards came to the Temple. As soon as he alighted he went to the Princess his Sister, to walk with her in those allies, and at his coming I went another way with Narcissus. This was the first time I saw the King of Armenia, he was about eight and twenty years of age, of a comely proportion, and a gallant mind, but of a haughty carriage and a fierce aspect, which partly denoted the roughness of his nature: as I had no desire to make myself known to him, so I came not near him, but seeing that the Princess was engaged with him in a long discourse, I retired home with Narcissus: I was so contented with this first entertainment I had with Artemisa, that I could not conceal my satisfaction, and besides the beauty which the Picture, and my ancient remembrance had figured to me, I found a sweetness in her conversation, and such rational resentments for the destiny of Artamenes, that the force of my passion was very much augmented thereby: Ah! without doubt, said I, she is not so cruel as Artamenes hath represented her to me, and if Heaven be not mine enemy, I hope we may yet have some access to her: I find in her same goodness she had in her younger years, and if she hath contracted any thing that is more stately and venerable, 'tis beauty and majesty that hath imprinted it in her countenance, and not the change of her nature.  
In the mean time I sought all occasions to be present at those places where most frequently she was, as often as was possible, and there hardly passed a day but I saw her, and was seen by her: always at her passing by I caused her to take notice of me by the profound reverence I made her, and she being humble and courteous observed my respects, and took them in good part. One day I coming into her walk in a fair Garden which is without the walls of Artaxata, and rendering her the accustomed salutation at her passing by, she sent for me by one of her Maids named Leucippe, who had been with her at Alexandria during all the time she had continued prisoner there. I went to her, being uncertain what the Princess desired of me, and when I was come near her; Of what Country are you, said she, and how long have you been in Artamenes his service? I am an Egyptian, Madam, answered I, born in the City of Alexandria, and I served Artamenes only in the last war where he died: It must needs be, added the Princess, that he observed a great deal of discretion and fidelity in you, seeing in so small a time he reposed so great a confidence in you. It was by my good fortune, replied I, that I gained his affections, and he had not as yet found any occasion to make trial of my fidelity: Well Leucippe said Artemisa turning her to her Maid, both by the eyes, and the whole air of the face, and the very tone of the voice, is it not the very same thing? I find no difference, Madam, replied Lucippe, but what eight or nine years' time might well occasion. Then they talked privately together a while, and a little after the Princess turning towards me: In what condition are you, said she, and since the death of Artamenes to what other Master are you engaged? Since the loss of so good a Master, replied I, I have not engaged myself to any body, and I shall hardly find elsewhere any condition like to that I have lost. If you will continue in my service, answered Artemisa, the good qualities which I imagine to be in you will make way for you. I was so joyful at this proposition, that not being able to dissemble my contentment, I threw myself at Artemisa's feet, and kissing the hem of her robe with an action full of respect: Madam, said I, I receive the favour you do me as the greatest I could have desired of the Gods, and I protest to you before them, that amongst all your ancient servants you shall never find so much zeal and fidelity as in him whom you receive this day into your service.  
I was retained in this manner in Artemisa's house, and from that day was placed amongst a number of young men nobly descended, to whom she allowed pensions, without obliging them to any other service, but only to be ordinarily near her person, and receive her commands as occasions presented themselves; you see how in these beginnings fortune was favourable to me, and whether I could desire a more happy introduction to my designs: I saw myself now at liberty to see the Princess almost every hour in the day, and except it were at those hours when her women were only with her, there was no time but we were permitted to have access to her: you need not ask me whether I were one of the most affiduous in her service, you may well judge, that acting upon another consideration than those did, who were retained by the base hope of a salary, my services had another kind of appearance, and my actions, having another aim, had likewise a very different grace. I seized upon the very lest opportunities of pleasing her, with a zeal which might easily be observed by her, and if I saw myself outstripped by any of my Companions, I had no repose upon some other occasion I had the means to repair my deficiency; the Princess who perceived it, took an affection to me above all the rest, and having otherwise a disposition to wish me better than they, she oftentimes expressed to me that she had an higher esteem of my services than of theirs. I continued at the Palace all the day, and at night I retired to my lodging, where my two Squires and Narcissus lay; although I laid hold of all occasions of seeing the Princess as often as I could, yet I avoided as much as I could all great companies, and the presence of those who might have seen me at Rome, and when any of them came in to the place where I was, I got from them, I turned my head another way, or laid my hand upon my face, and being assisted otherwise with the small appearance there was that I should come into that place, and in that condition, I kept myself concealed with facility enough; yet one Evening in the Princess' chamber the King taking notice of my face, which he had often seen before, without informing himself of me, and understanding by them of whom he enquired, that I was in the Princess his Sister's service: he addressed himself to her, and asked her in my presence what countryman I was, and how long I had served her? Artemisa having answered him that I had been two months with her, and that I was an Egyptian born in the City of Alexandria? All that come out of the Country, said the King rubbing his eye brow, are so odious to me, that if you had taken my counsel you should never have received this man into your service: He is very innocent, replied Artemisa, of the displeasure we have received in his Country, and I hope he will prove no less faithful to us, than if he had been born in Artaxata. I gave no answer to the King's discourse, seeing with how much goodness the Princess took my part, and besides he took no farther notice of me, but without continuing any longer in that discourse he turned his looks and his thoughts another way. In the mean time by the sight of my Princess my love received continual increase; and if on the one side I received great satisfactions, on the other side I was eternally tormented by my impatiences and fears; I burned with a desire of discovering myself and seeking out the true enjoyments instead of the small appearances of happiness which till then had contented me, and I died with fear lest in seeking a greater fortune, that which I then possessed should be taken from me, and if I should let Artemisa know that I was the son of Cleopatra, I might find the same resentments in her that were in her brother.  
Ah Alexander, said I, what good doth it do to thee to flatter thyself with a shadow of false pleasure, if the realities be denied thee, and what happiness dost thou find in enjoying only the sight of Artemisa, when the whole Armenian Court doth the like? If Artemisa be ignorant that thou adorest her, if she know not that thou art Alexander, 'tis impossible that she the very same who now receives thy services with testimonies of acknowledgement, and endures thy person with divers expressions of goodness, will abhor both thy services and thy person, when she shall know thee to be Son of Anthony: This thought touched me sometimes so siensibly, that the marks of my cruel inquietude appeared in my visage, and I lost for divers days the pleasure I was wont to receive from that happiness which was granted me: At other times when I was in Artemisa's presence looking upon her with such an action which might discover a part of the truth to her: Ah forgetful Artemisa, said I, is it possible that you can see Alexander so long & not know him? he to whom you gave your first affection, to whom you promised that you would remember him eternally? and yet he whom you commanded to come one day to you is now in your presence, appears every hour before your eyes, and hath lived divers months in your service: if according to your promise you had preserved any place for him in your memory, his face would not be strange to you, and a little affection would easily remove the cloud which hinders you from discerning him: Though I discoursed thus with myself, yet oftentimes I called to mind what she said to Levoippe in my presence that day she received me into her house, and by that I did probably conjecture that she had not quite lost the Idea of my visage, the attention wherewith I had seen her behold me divers times strengthened me in that opinion, but I received at last such confirmation of it as permitted me to doubt no longer, and from that I received a boldness which till then I durst not think of. She was walking one day in a gallery where she viewed some pictures which she had caused to be drawn not long before, and after she had taken a few turns, she retired to a window where she entertained herself for a while with Levoippe only: and having turned her eyes that way that I was, she saw me, and perceiving that I looked upon her with great attention, she called me, and commanded me to approach. The satisfaction I received every time she spoke to me made me run to her with joy, and when I was near her, Alcippus said she, for that was the name I gave myself, I told Levoippe, and I say still, that if my memory fail me not, your face doth very much resemble a Prince that I knew, and you might know seeing you were born in Alexandria: This discourse which signified her memory of me, gave me a great deal of content, and growing more bold than I had been till that time. Madam, answered I, I have been very often slattered with that resemblance, and your Highness is not the first that I have heard say, that I am very like a Prince whom possibly you may have seen: but if I gloried in it in my own country, I ought to conceal it from you, for without doubt both the resemblance and the name of a person whom you hate are odious to you. And why do you believe, replied Artemisa, that the person of that Prince is odious to me? Because said I, he is Alexander, and the son of Anthony and Cleopatra: I confess, answered the Princess, that I hate the memory of Anthony, and Cleopatra, and the cause I have to do so is so just that this hatred will never be condemned by any person, but I hold the Prince Alexander to be so innocent of our misfortune, that my resentments never reached so far as him: Is it possible Madam, replied I, that your enmity is not extended unto that Prince, who though he be innocent of your displeasures yet he is Son to those who caused them? 'Tis certain, said Artemisa, that I do not hate him, nor ever will upon that occasion, and I know too well how to discern between the innocent and the culpable to conceive unjust aversion: O Gods! Madam, said I, how equitable and generous are you, and how happy would Alexander be if he had but this knowledge of his fortune? Alexander, replied the Princess, hath not established his felicity with us, and I believe he troubles himself very little to know what thoughts I have for him: If you could see into his, answered I, you would be of a quite different mind, and you would know, as I do, that Alexander's soul is entirely possessed with only passion which he hath to adore and serve you. Artemisa looked upon me then in such a manner as made me believe that she began to suspect me, and after she had left me a while in that apprehension: Of whom, said she, could you learn so much? Of Alexander himself, said I, with whom I had the honour to be bred, and those secrets I knew at least as well as Artamenes his: I knew not replied Artemisa, with a kind of surprise, whether you were bred up with Alexander or not, but if you be so knowing in his secrets as you say, you will know without doubt according to all likelihood, that Alexander hath thought no more upon me since our separation: Appearances, Madam, answered I, are very often far from the truth, and if you have conceived this opinion by those which are past, possibly you will one day find Alexander's justification by stronger probabilities. It was likely that we should have had more discourse to this purpose, if the Princess had not seen divers Ladies approach, for whose entertainment she was obliged to quit mine; she went some steps forward to meet them, and I retired another way to meditate upon the adventure which had so lately befallen me, and the hopes it made conceive: I was so satisfied to see that not only Artemisa did not hate Alexander, but that she herself took some pleasure to hear talk of him, and interessed herself in the thoughts which he might have for her, that I could hardly contain my contentments; and at night being retired home, and calling Narcissus to me, from whom I concealed nothing in the conduct of my love.  
Ah! Narcissus, said I to him, what a fortune is mine? Artemisa doth not hate Alexander, and if I may dare to say more, she hath not forgotten Alexander; she said enough to me to make me judge so, and I have received an assurance from this discourse that made me almost put all to the hazard.  
With these words I related to him the conversation I had with her; and when he had attentively harkened to me, Sir, said he, your affairs cannot be in a better condition, and I believe you may perfect the discovery of yourself without much danger: Ah! Narcissus, replied I, I dare not; the goodness of this Princess cannot dissipate the fear I stand in of her, and with what courage soever I should arm myself, I could not without trembling accost her with that intention: this uncertain state of my condition though it gives me but a shadow and an image of happiness, is more supportable to me than the apprehension only of drawing the displeasure of my Princess upon myself. If she receives the knowledge of me with an offended countenance, there will be no death ready enough for me, there will be no precipices near enough to me from her indignation: What will you do then, answered the affectionate Narcissus, and if upon the knowledge of the good will she bears you, you do not undertake something, from whence will you take that boldness? I know not, replied I, but I hope that time and the assistance of Heaven will furnish me with more favourable opportunities than all those I might receive from a premeditated design: I am really ignorant what course I ought to take to discover myself, but serving the Princess with my accustomed respect, and engaging her, if it be possible, if she do it not herself, upon the same discourse which was interrupted by some happy chance or other, I may possibly take as much courage as is necessary for me in that action, which at this time I cannot find in all my resolutions: This was my design, and I passed divers days as uncertain what I had to do, and as wavering in my will as the most irresolute mind had ever been: hope and fear almost equally divided my soul, but though there was according to appearances some place for hope, yet out of a natural infirmity, or rather a weakness proceeding from my love, my fear exceeded my hope, and still when I opened my mouth to say to Artemisa, I am Alexander, a Spirit of fear tied up my tongue, and whispered me in the ear, that by this forward rashness I would ruin myself, whereas by time and patience I might make myself sure. I resolved then to resolve upon nothing but what opportunity should inspire me with, and in the mean time I applied myself to the Princess' service with greater assiduity than I had done before, and she received my endeavours so favourably, and looked so graciously upon me, that amongst all those to whom I had rendered myself a companion since my disguise, there was none but envied my Fortune. I lived a while in that manner, but I was upon the point of passing to another condition: there remained some scruples in Artemisa's mind: which she must needs clear up, and the desire she had to be satisfied, gave me the opportunity of attaining to that which I had so much feared and so much desired. One Evening when I least expected it, having bid Good night to the company which was in her chamber, she sent me her commands by Leucippe that I should stay, for the service of the chamber when she was retired, she went to sit down in a corner close by a table whereupon there were tapers lighted, and Leucippe having made me draw near, after she had continued some moments without speaking: Alcippus, said she, you will judge me to be too curious, but that's a vice ordinary with our Sex, and I may possibly be excused for some reasons, in that I desire to know from you since you were educated with the Prince Alexander, to whom you have so much resemblance, and were so particularly acquainted with his intentions, it will not be amiss if you tell us something of his affairs: He is the Son of our cruel Enemies, but I assure myself that he contributed nothing to our misfortune, and I must confess more, in his younger years he had a respect to me, which permits me to inquire of him.  
During Artemisa's discourse I was agitated with divers different thoughts which made me change my countenance, and rendered me for a while amazed and ill-assured in my looks: but at last I partly composed myself, and endeavouring to dissipate the fear which hindered me: Madam, answered I, Alexander is too happy and too glorious, seeing he hath still a place in your memory, and I interess myself so far in his happiness, that he himself cannot receive the knowledge of it with greater satisfaction than I do: 'Tis certain for all that, Madam, that Alexander dies for you, and as in all the affairs of his life he judges nothing to be of importance but only the thoughts he hath for you, 'tis with those only, Madam, that I can and aught to acquaint you. You divert yourself Alcippus, said the Princess, and possibly I should not like it very well, if by the way of my proceeding with you I did not give some place to your discourse: the thoughts that Alexander had once for me were not unknown to me, but he was too young to engage himself in a more solid affection, and I am not ignorant that he remembers me no more now than if I were out of the World. 'Tis not my duty, Madam, replied I, to oppose your opinions; but that you have of Alexander is so far from truth, that all the respect I owe you is not capable to make me approve it: 'Tis certain, Madam, and in time I shall make it appear to you by infallible testimonies to which you will give greater credit than to my discourse, not only that Alexander hath preserved his infant affections for you, which are not worthy to be presented to you; but that he is now inflamed with a passion worthy of you, that he hath sacrificed his Life and Fortune at your feet, and desires neither Fortune nor life, but to have the glory to employ them both entirely in your service. You engage me, answered Artemisa, with a little blush that appeared in her face, in a very strange conversation: but seeing I have done so much, I will see the end of your discourse, of which as yet I comprehend nothing, and I will ask you by what marks could you take notice of Alexander's passionate thoughts, if all the World be ignorant of them, if he hath not seen me since he was nine or ten years old, and if since that, he hath passed his life at Rome without giving me any testimony of his remembrance of me? Alexander would be very unworthy of your memory, replied I, if he had done as you say, but I am very well assured of the contrary; and to let you see, Madam, that it is not without reason that I bragged of having some part in his secrets: will you be pleased to let me tell you that at your separation, when as very a child as he was, he possibly gave you proofs of a real passion, you commanded him to come again to you when he was of another age; you left him some favours which he hath very carefully preserved, and you approved of the promise he made you to come one day and render you the homage he had vowed to you, and to submit himself anew to the Empire which he had already given you over his soul: The Princess seemed astonished at the discourse, and yet she replied, I will make no difficulty to confess those things which the age I was then of, may easily excuse, and you make me remember some particulars which passed at our departure from Alexandria; 'tis certain that at that innocent age, loving Alexander as if he had been my brother, I invited him to come and see me, and he promised to do so; but these being the propositions of children's promises, time which hath made him forget them had almost worn them out of my memory: He hath been so far from forgetting them, said I to her, that possibly he hath put them in execution since he hath abandoned all things to die and serve you, and without considering the danger which might threaten him among the mortal enemies of his family, possibly he is come, hath seen, and served you, and in that condition hath established all his fortune.  
As I spoke these words which began to render themselves very intelligible, the Princess beginning to suspect the truth, viewed me from head to foot with a gesture full of trouble, and opening her eyes by little to the appearances which might discover me, she continued in such an uncertainty and confusion of thoughts as would not permit her to reply. Seeing her in this condition, and believing I did in vain endeavour any longer to disguise my, self: Be not astonished, added I, at what I tell you, possibly there is a great deal more and yet all that I could say conoerning Alexander's passion is inferior to the truth: I know his most secret thoughts, and the very bottom of his heart as well as mine own, and for sufficient proof of the assurance he hath in me, behold, Madam, the pledges he hath trusted me withal. Saying thus, I stretched out my arm to the light, whereupon I beware the bracelet of hair and the ring fastened to it, which she had formerly given me, but because it was too little I could not wear it upon my finger: Artemisa no sooner saw what I showed it by my words, though 'tis possible she might have seen it before often enough without taking notice of it, and this knowledge made her fall into the greatest astonishment that ever she had been in, in her life: she once more employed her eyes and memory upon my person, my discourse, and all the tokens I showed her, and finding nothing but what confirmed her in a suspicion which began already to grow into a certainty in her mind, she seemed to be entirely possessed with amazement: Her confusion was the cause of mine, though I had fortified myself with all the boldness I could, and her eyes being firmly fixed upon me, made me let fall mine to the ground, where I held them in the posture of a person convinced of some great crime: We continued both of us, a while in this condition; but at last Artemisa breaking silence first: Alcippus, said she, speaking lower than before, Can it be possible that you should be Alexander? And is it possible, answered I, that you should doubt of it any longer, and if you have conserved any Idea of Alexander's visage, could you not read it in Alcippus his countenance? Artemisa seemed more troubled than before at these words, and giving me a look whereupon I could ground no judgement of my fortune; O Gods! replied she, if you be Alexander what do you dream of, and to what do you reduce me? She spoke but these few words, and rising up from the place where she sat, much moved, or rather much astonished, she crossed the chamber and shut up herself in her closet. I continued leaning against a wall more like a Statue than a living person, and so uncertain of what I ought to fear, or might hope for, that it was impossible for me to make any conjecture upon the condition wherein I found myself: I was in this plight, when Leucippe (who had not heard our discourse, but had seen the Princess go away troubled, as she and divers others of the maids observed) came to me, and finding me in so deep a muse that it hardly gave me leave to see her, after she had pulled me by the arm twice to awaken me: Alcippus said she, What ails the Princess? I hardly came to myself at these words, and Leucippe having repeated them: Leucippe, said I, you will learn that of the Princess better than of me, but what ever it be Leucippe I desire your protection: I speak only these words, and parting presently from her, I went out of the Palace, and retired to my lodging.  
But possibly, pursued Alexander, a tedious attention may be inconvenient for your health, and you would be less accommodated if I should remit the remainder of my discourse till another i'm: you need not fear that, if you please, said Caesario to him, and if you have not tiredt yourself with so long a narration, leave me not thus in an unquiet ignorance. I interess myself in your adventures more than you believe, and having so many obligations to you, and esteeming your person so highly, I cannot be informed of the accidents of your life without being particularly sensible of them: I am too much obliged myself to your goodness, replied Alexander, and the esteem of such a man as the valiant Cleomedon ought to be very considerable to me: I will go on then with my discourse since you desire it, and possibly I shall acquaint you with things more worthy of your attention, than these which I have already related,    

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA: OR, Love's Masterpiece. PART IU.  
LIB. II.  
ARGUMENT.  
The Princess Artemisa is much troubled at Alexander 's being in the Armenian Court, yet by the mediation of her Maid Leucippe, they renew their infant-love. She gives him hopes of obtaining her by some Honourable way. He is betrayed by the indiscretion of Lucius Cepio to Artaxus his fury, who commands him to prison with a resolution to sacrifice him to his Father's Ghost. He is formally condemned to lose his head. Artemisa intercedes for him, but in vain; She sends him poison to prevent an ignominious death, and promises to bear him company. He accepts of her present, but conjures her to live. His Squire accidentally spills the poison. He is brought upon the Scaffold, and the Executioner is ready to strike the blow, but is first stayed and then killed by Cepio, who puts a Sword into Alexander 's hand, and bids him die bravely. They make an incredible slaughter, but at last Cepio is slain, and Alexander is retaken and reserved for another solemn Execution day. Artemisa gains his Keeper Sarpedon to set him free; she escapes with him out of Armenia, and they fly together to meet Augustus in Egypt.  
THe Princess Artemisa (as I have been since informed) was no sooner retired into her closet, but she found herself assaulted by divers different thoughts which took their original from the adventure which had lately happened: at first her astonishment deprived her partly of her action and reason, but when that began to vanish, and she was to make some reflection upon what was past, all things presented themselves to her fancy in such forms as gave her matter enough to muse upon: Leucippe, from whom she concealed nothing, having an advantage above her companions, made use of a particular privilege, and entering into her closet found her sitting leaning her head upon one of her hands, and her arm upon the chair, her eyes fixed upon the ground, and in the perfect posture of a person buried in a profound meditation: Leucippe out of respect stayed some moments without interrupting her, but a little after seeing Leucippe by her. Ah! Leucippe said she, are you there? yes Madam, answered Leucippe, and I saw you, after the conversation you had with Alcippus, go out of the chamber into your closet, in a condition which hath forced me to come indiscreetly and interrupt your musing; Ah! Leucippe replied Artemisa after she had looked every way to see if they were alone, and had beckoned to her to shut the door: Ah! Leucippe, in what a troubled condition dost thou find me, and what an ample subject have I to meditate upon, and to discourse with thee concerning what is lately happened to me? And what, O the good Goods! said Leucippe quite surprised, what can be happened to you in so small a time, and who could have the power to trouble you in our presence, and render you so much astonished as you seemed to me to be? 'Tis no slight matter that hath caused it, added the Princess, and without doubt thou wilt judge so thyself, when thou shalt know that in the person of the false Alcippus, I have found the true Alexander, whose countenance we took notice of in Alcippus: O God's Madam, cried Leucippe, what is this you tell me? I tell thee the truth, replied Artemisa, the Son of Anthony of whom we have often discoursed when we called my infancy to mind, is here in Artaxata, he is here in this Palace, he is in my service, and hath continued so divers months, as you have seen, under the name of Alcippus: But Madam, said Leucippe, what assurances have you of it? I have all, answered Artemisa, that I can desire, and besides what thou mayst gather as well as I from the resemblance of his countenance, I have his confession, and the relation of divers things which could not be known to any but Alexander, and some more particular marks besides: Hereupon she repeated all that had passed, and made her as well acquainted with the truth, as she was herself. Leveippe seemed astonished at this discourse, and continued a while without speaking, whilst the Princess being risen up from her chair, walked up and down in her closet, deeply musing what resolation she should take.  
After they had been long enough silent, Leucippe began to speak first, and coming to her Mistress, Madam, said she, I really find in this rancounter something strange enough to cause your astonishment: and it is no common adventure that such a Prince as the Son of Anthony, should pass through all the Countries which divided him from us, to you, that he should disguise himself, and put himself into your service in the condition of one of your plain Domestics. He that in any place else might enjoy one of the supremest dignities upon earth, and live gloriously secure from the danger which without doubt will threaten him in this Court if he be known; but in so extraordinary an accident, I see no cause you have to be displeased, and you ought not, in my opinion, to be afflicted, that a Prince so considerable as Alexander, both for his birth and the qualities of his Person, a Prince for whom in your tender years you had all the inclination you were then capable of, should despise all manner of dangers to come and submit himself to you, and neglect all the fortune which with less trouble and less danger he might find elsewhere, to obey the command you heretofore laid upon him, and to put himself into your service in the most submissive quality, whereunto a man of his worth would never have debased himself.  
Leucippe spoke in this manner, and having some inclination for me, without doubt she spoke well of me beyond the truth; when Artemisa who had harkened to her a long time without interrupting her, casting her eyes suddenly upon her, Leucippe said she, I know very well that thou never wantest reasons to maintain thy opinions, and in this very thing I do not say that thou art absolutely without reason; 'tis true that Alexander is a great Prince, that I loved him as my Brother when we were children together and that I am obliged to that affection which hath made him strip himself of his condition, and expose himself to great troubles and dangers to come and see me; and finally, that it is not a cause of displeasure to the Princess of Armenia, that the Son of Anthony heretofore the Master of so many Kings should be engaged in her service; but we must consider too, that he is descended from those very Persons which after a hard and unjust captivity, made the King our Father suffer a cruel and shameful death; that there is not, nor ever can be any reconciliaation between his Family and ours; and if I were to be pardoned in my childhood, for not having expressed to her children how sensible I was of the injury we had received from Cleopatra, I am now of an age that obliges me to very different thoughts. Ah Madam, replied Leucippe, I have heard you often say, and before Alexander himself too, that you had no resentment against him for the death of the King your Father. I never had, answered Artemisa, nor ever will have any resentment against Alexander, that may oblige me to procure him, or so much as wish him ill, but I ought to carry myself so against all the children of Cleopatra, as not to dream of their alliance, or approve of their service: the difference is very visible, and though my mind should not be so disposed as blood and reason require, decency exacts that of me which I should not allow to nature; and though I should let Cleopatra's children live with indifferency as to me, without hating him, I cannot suffer them with a particular design, without being blamed by all the world; besides, Alexander living in a disguise amongst us, doth not expose himself alone to danger, but if the cause of his disguise be enquired into, and the reason of his staying here, it cannot be discovered without rendering me obnoxious to great reproaches, the hatred of the King my brother, and to all manner of displeasures. What will you resolve upon them, said Leucippe, and in what manner do you intent to deal with this Prince, who by all probability, as I myself have observed, is at this time in very strange disquiets? Never to see him more, replied Artemisa, but to send him word by thee that he should retire himself, and deliver me from that fear which will eternally torment me so long as he shall continue here.  
This expedient is not difficult, answered Leucippe coldly, but it seems very cruel to me in relation to the Prince, after he had done things for you which possibly may make him merit better usage, and by the proofs he hath given of his passion, I conceive it violent enough to make him use extremities against his own life, which if it be true that you do not hate him, will cause you some displeasure without doubt. What wouldst thou have me to do then, said Artemisa, and how wouldst thou have me satisfy at once my duty, and the care thou takest of Alexander's repose? 'tis true I am much obliged to him, and I naturally have disposition enough to wish him well, so as to avoid the occasion of putting him into despair, as you fear; but withal I consider my own quiet, and my reputation too, too much to suffer, that, by an intelligence which will be condemned by all the world, Alexander should live unknown amongst us, where he cannot be discovered without fatal accidents to himself, and a very disadvantageous reflection upon me. You may, replied Leucippe, attend some other time to take your resolutions, and not do any thing with precipition, which oftentimes causes repentance: 'Tis possible, that from an adventure so uncommon, the Gods may produce some extraordinary result, and that by ways to you as yet unknown, you may find the means to satisfy your duty, and the acknowledgement you owe to Alexder's affection.  
Leucippe used many other arguments to divert her from the design she might have against me, and I am obliged to her for this, that she forgot nothing for my defence against Artemisa's scruples: By her discourses she really wrought great effects, and after a long conversation upon this subject, the Princess went to bed without taking any resolution.  
But if on her side she passed the night in some disquiet, for my part I was extremely tormented, and though I thought I had surpassed the greatest difficulties that lay in the whole course of my enterprise, and I saw no signs of anger in Artemisa's countenance when I declared myself to her; I saw nothing likewise which could make me expect from her any compliance with my designs, and that did not leave me in a perfect uncertainty betwixt hope and fear.  
The next day I durst not present myself before her at the hour accustomed, but only walked in the Court of the Palace with Narcissus, contenting myself to lift up mine eyes to her lodgings, without having the boldness to go up thither: I had not continued there long, but by fortune I saw Leucippe appear at the foot of a pair of stairs; I went towards her as soon as I knew her, and when I was near enough to her, to be heard by none but herself, beholding her with an action full of fear and submission: Leucippe, said I, you certainly know my fortune, must I live, or must I die? You must live without doubt, answered she, and death ought not to be sought for but when all other remedies fail: You understand me right, replied I, and I think now I am no longer unknown to you. No Sir, said Leucippe, you are not unknown to me, and I have vowed no less service to Prince Alexander, than I had amity for Alcippus. Alexander, added I, was known to you before Alcippus, and it was upon the account of that remembrance that yesterday night he desired your protection: I think it was necessary for him, and I hope it will not be useless to him if you will employ it for his safety. Sir, said she, possibly I have served you already, and will serve you with affection and fidelity: I cannot yet inform you of the condition of your affairs, the Princess is as yet uncertain what resolution she should take; I can only assure you that she does not hate you, and that without doing herself violence she will never pitch upon any design, which may cause you any displeasure. I shall never have any regret, replied I, to execute punctually whatsoever she shall please to order me, and if for part of the reparations which are due to her from our unfortunate family, she demanded my life, or something more precious than that, if it were in my power, I should as willingly give her the remainders of it, as to have given her the beginnings: Do not despair of your affairs, answered Leucippe, but expect from a former inclination which powerfully takes your part whatsoever you can reasonably require of it.  
She cut these words short, seeing the Princess, who was coming down, appear at the top of the stairs, and not desiring to be surprised by her in this particular discourse with me: but if she avoided her sight upon this occasion, I desired to shun it no less than she, and like a criminal I hid myself from the countenance of my Judge. Artemisa mounted into her Chariot at the same gate where I had spoken to Leucippe; and though I was retired behind divers other persons from off the steps which are at the gate, she saw me and knew me: as from the place where I was I held mine eyes fixed upon her face, I easily took notice of her action, and I saw that at the first sight of me she was a little troubled, and looked downward with a discomposed countenance.  
All the rest of that day I did not present myself before her, and for divers other days I never saw her but at a distance, my love having created a fearfulness in me, which deprived me of assurance to accost her whilst I was uncertain what reception I might expect: I desired to draw conjectures of it from her countenance, and if I entered not into her chamber, nor waited upon her as I had been accustomed; I was every day where she passed by, and being near enough to be seen by her, and to observe her, I took notice that at the sight of me she changed colour, and cast down her eyes, not being able to look upon me confidently: I almost repent at those moments that I had disturbed the tranquillity of her life with this trouble, and I could not observe the marks of her confusion in her face; without resenting some displeasure for having been the cause of it. At last I resolved to make a full discovery of my fortune, and not being able to live any longer in this uncertain condition of life, I believed that by writing to the Princess I might oblige her to acquaint me with some part of my destiny; upon which design having shut myself up in my chamber, I made my Letter speak in these terms.  
Prince Alexander to the Princess Artemisa.  
THat fear which keeps my tongue tied up, and forbids me access into your presence, hath permitted me to draw out in this paper, not my justification, for I seek none if I have offended you, but a declaration of that blind obedience wherein I submit myself to all the punishments you shall please to ordain for me; if the conservation of the memory of those precious affections which honoured the beginnings of my life, if obeying the command you laid upon me to come one day to you, if seeking with some danger the opportunities of engaging myself in your service, are offences worthy of your anger, or rather, if to be the Son of Anthony and Cleopatra, be a condition which may expose him to your hatred; behold, Madam, behold the criminal, both by his birth and actions, ready to suffer whatsoever upon either account he may have merited from your just resentments; I did believe by the first intelligences that you were pleased to give me of it, that your goodness had wiped off from my birth whatsoever rendered it odious to the Princess of Armenia, and I did judge my actions innocent, because they were authorized by your command; but seeing I have been deceived both in my hopes and my opinions, I will not avoid the occasion of rendering you satisfaction both for another's crime, and my own offences. I expect, Madam, the sentence you shall please to pronounce, with a firm resolution punctually to execute it, and I beg only of your goodness that after the effecting of your will, how fatal soever it shall be to me, you would out of pity remember, that if Alexander was too bold, if Alexander were the Son of Anthony, he was likewise the most passionate for you, and the most faithful amongst men.  
After I had wrote these words which I found conformable to the condition of Life I then lived, I gave my Letter to Narcissus, who had sufficient acquaintance with Leucippe, to embolden him to present it to her, and I stayed in my Lodging to attend the effect of it with all the unquietness that is imaginable. Narcissus' acquitted himself of his commission as faithfully and as happily as I could desire: he saw Leucippe, he gave her my Letter, and by an excess of happiness above my hopes, having visited her again the next day according to my command, she gave him the answer which he brought me, and I saw it was written with Artemisa's own hand. I leapt for joy at this sight, I changed colour divers times, and if Narcissus had not been fully acquainted with my passion, I should have given him knowledge enough of it; at last I read those precious characters, and therein I found these words.  
The Princess Artemisa to Prince Alexander.  
LEucippe puts the pen into my hand to write to you, and acknowledgement might have done it, if my duty had not more prevailed over that, than over Leucippe's obstinacy: you are not criminal Alexander, either by your birth or actions, but Artemisa is unhappy that she is not free in her judgement, and that she sees herself constrained by her fortune to offer violence to her inclinations: I do not hate you, Alexander, nor ever will whilst I live: but I am not permitted to suffer your affections as I was at that age, when you gave me the first testimonies of them, and I cannot receive any proofs of them from you in Artaxata which will not be of more dangerous consequence than those you gave me in Alexandria; you are here within the reach of an enemy, whose thoughts are very different from mine, and I cannot without fear consider the danger whereunto you expose your own life and my reputation: I desire that you would think upon the one and the other, seeing the latter is more dear to me than my life, and the other would be so too, if my duty did permit it; in respect of those actions which you call offences, but if I were permitted to judge of them, would be ranked amongst immortal obligations in my soul, cannot find in me that acknowledgement that is due to them, and by the care I have of your safety, I am constrained to dispose you, as much as possibly I can, to some resolution which may render me that repose, which for some days since you have deprived me of: In expectation of what you will resolve upon, or when you will be in a condition to put it in execution, I do not forbid you to visit me, and let me tell you that the countenance of Alcippus was never odious to me because of the resemblance it had to Alexander.  
I thought I should have died with joy at the reading of this Letter, and though it discovered to me that the Princess had some design to cause my departure, yet it was expressed in such terms as made me believe that it would not be difficult to alter her resolution, and that possibly I had an higher place in her thoughts than I hoped for: I read over every word of it a thousand times, I kissed all the characters even with Idolatry, and I stopped myself with transport at those places which did most sweetly flatter my desires.  
Ah, without doubt, said I, I have permission to hope, and according to all apperances' I am not hated by Artemisa: The Princess courteously acknowledges my services, and I could not hope that they should be crowned with a more happy or more glorious success: Reassume my heart, reassume that boldness which my love hath deprived me of, and henceforward raise thy ambition to the highest degree it could ever mount to: Artemisa cannot disapprove it since she hath favoured it, and upheld it herself, and in fine, the countenance of Alcippus is not odious unto her, because of the resemblance it hath to Alexander's.  
Full of the hopes wherewith these thoughts inspired me, and being emboldened by them more than I had been before, I left my lodging and went to the Palace, believing that by Artemisa's permission I might present myself before her without fear of her displeasure: yet all this resolution wherewith I had fortified myself, could not hinder me from being troubled with some apprehension at her sight, and I could not approach the place where she was without feeling a shivering, which ran quite through my body; She was walking at that time in the spacious Allies which are in the great Garden of the Palace, and had the principal Ladies of the Court attending upon her; I walked a while behind the company which followed her: but when she was at the end of an Ally, and was turning back again, having cast her eyes about, she discovered me amongst the rest; the blood immediately mounted into her face, and she made use of one of her hands to conceal it: but a little after making as if she had a desire to have some particular discourse with Leucippe; she caused her Gentleman-usher to retire, and put Leucippe in his place, and so leaning upon her arm, she walked the other turn, and then seeing me at her passage by, Alcippus, said she to me aloud, I have some business for you, come you hither.  
These words pierced quite through my soul, and I obeying her with an emotion which might easily be perceived in my countenance, drew near her, and walked by her on that side where she had no body near: all the rest of the train, after she had made the Gentleman-usher retire, and expressed a desire to speak with Leucippe in private, kept farther off than before, and supposing that what she had to say to me was part of that secret, they followed at so great a distance, that she had all the liberty that might be to speak to me without being overheard.  
She continued for some time without opening her mouth, or so much as looking in my face, finding some occasion of being ashamed of what she did: at last having conquered the scruples which hindered her from expressing of herself, and casting a look upon me which was able to disarm the most savage and best fortified souls: Alexander, said she to him, I know not what I ought to expect from the judgement you will make of me, nor in what manner I may speak to you at this time, and though I have employed some days to draw myself out of that trouble whereinto you had put me, yet it was so great that it was impossible for me to dissipate it in so small a time, and I cannot imagine yet without astonishment and fear, that I talk to the Son of Anthony and Cleopatra in Artaxus' Palace. I do not deny but that the pains you have taken, and the danger whereunto you have exposed yourself for my sake, aught to move my mind to a real acknowledgement, and I confess there remains a remembrance of the former goodwill between us which doth not permit me to look upon you with indifferency: but all this cannot make a proof of your enterprise, nor close mine eyes against the danger to which you expose us both, yourself by imprudently putting yourself into the power of a mortal enemy, and me by obliging me to suffer near me a disguised Prince, and our disguised upon a motive, which can never be discovered without wronging my reputation: What were your thoughts, or what in fine did you pretend to from the daughter of Artibasus, and the Sister of Artaxus, in whom the memory of the injury received from your Family is engraven in eternal characters? For there is little reason that you should fall upon this design out of obedience, as you told me, to the command I laid upon you heretofore; and you and I were even of such an age as hindered us from knowing the obstacles which opposed it, and so sufficiently dispensed with the execution of your promise. What must I do then in these terms to which you have reduced me not to be ingrateful, nor yet imprudent? the first of these two vices is very contrary to my nature, and the other may draw us into great inconveniences and misfortunes: I will not dissemble with you, but confess ingenuously, that if I might follow mine own inclinations, I should be very glad to enjoy the sight of you, and as far as my duty and decency would permit, I should let you know that I am not insensible of the proofs of your affection, you are such both by your birth and by the qualities of your person, that the testimonies I might give you of my acknowledgement would be easily excused, if I were only hindered by ordinary impediments: but you and I are such, through the misfortunes of our Families, that all things are forbidden us, and to all appearance hope itself is not permitted us.  
Artemisa spoke in this manner, and in my judgement she expressed herself with so good a grace, that it she had spoken more against my thoughts I should never have interrupted her; At last when she had done speaking, I conceived by the liberty she gave me, I might declare my thoughts to her, and upon this account after I had continued mute some moments longer, I began to speak thus: It is very difficult, Madam, in the transport you have put me into, that I should speak rationally to you, and I am so full of confusion to see, that just when I expected to receive a condemnation, which possibly my rashness did deserve, I should be permitted to speak to you as Alexander, to declare the passionate thoughts I have for you and to receive from your own mouth such testimonies of your goodness as are able to content the most immoderate ambition, that I can hardly have sense enough left to render you that account of my intentions and my hopes which you require of me: and yet, Madam, that I may endeavour to obey you, I shall make bold to tell you, that really the beginnings of this glorious enterprise whereby I have introduced myself into your service were inspired into me by nothing but love alone, and that they were not grounded upon any other reasons but what produced thence: I have not much considered the events I might expect upon that account, and though all the obstacles which might oppose my happiness in regard of the enmity which the King your brother bears to the remainders of our family did present themselves to my imagination, I looked upon them only to despise them, and blindly pursued the design of seeing and serving you; and it sufficed me as the uttermost aim of my love to know, that in loving you, I loved that which the Gods had created most amiable; and it being impossible for me to love you without seeking opportunities of seeing you, all the difficulties which possibly might have diverted a mind prepossessed with an ordinary passion did but animate more. In fine Madam, I have been fortunate enough to see you and to be received into your service, and possibly in these beginnings I have not prudently enough considered the interest your reputation might have in my disguise: this consideration without doubt would have wrought more with me than all the dangers that could threaten my life, and the Gods would not permit me to make too long a reflection upon it, that they might give way to my present fortune: but since, Madam, as my hopes had their original from the knowledge I had under the name of Alcippus, that Alexander was not hated by you, so they have raised my thoughts to the expectation of those happinesses which till then I could not probably pretend to; and I conceived that if you should please to approve of my designs, I might be favoured against the hatred of Artaxus by the authority of Augustus: He expresses to me at this time the same affection as if I were the son of his Sister Octavia, and that Princess loves me so well that she will not refuse to employ all her credit with Augustus, to cause him to employ his with the King your brother, who, I know, considers him with such grand respects, that he will hardly oppose his will, when it shall be declared in my favour; and I doubt not but at my supplication, and the humble requests of Octavio, Marcellus, and Livia herself, he will press him to extinguish the memory of the injury he received from Cleopatra, and particularly interess himself in obtaining that felicity for me which I may request of him: The family of Anthony, though despoiled of the Empire, doth still possess riches and dignities sufficient to preserve it from envying at the greatest Princes of Asia, and though I cannot offer you what you might expect from me whilst Anthony continued in power, yet, if I may speak it with modesty, our alliance is not so contemptible, but that it may still be preferred before all the Kings your neighbours.  
Whilst I spoke in this manner, Artemisa beheld me with great attention, and as my good fortune was, finding in me much more amiable parts than really they were, she insensibly engaged herself to wish me as much good as justly I could desire: She found great probability in what I said, and taking the word when I had done speaking: If you can, said she to me, either by the authority of Augustus, which doubtless is able to do any thing with Artaxus, or by any other honourable ways make him approve of the design you have for me, you shall not find me opposite to your desire; and I do so much esteem your person, your birth, and those dignities, which you still may call your own, that I am not sorry for any thing you have lost by Anthony's misfortune: you shall find me in this mind, as long as you shall continue in that you have expressed; but you must not dream of making any longer stay here; for besides that without committing a real offence against my duty, I cannot permit a disguised person privately to continue with me, I shall be in a perpetual fear, both of the danger which threatens you, and the dishonour I may receive upon that account; 'tis almost a miracle that you have continued so long here without being discovered; and in fine, it will be impossible that you should conceal yourself much longer from divers persons who have seen your face in Augustus his Court; you may retire yourself thither, and from thence you may make his power operate much more efficaciously, than at this distance from him.  
Madam, replied I, with a sigh, my parting from you will be almost unsupportable to me, but I must dispose myself to it since you desire it, and the patience I have to engage the Emperor in promiting my Fortune, will moderate as much as may be, the grief I shall have to leave you; I only desire some few days, if it please you to grant them me, in which time I shall endeavour to resolve upon a separation which cannot happen upon my part without a strange violence. This moment gives birth to my enjoyment of the supreme felicity you bestow upon me, and you cannot take it from me the same day without some kind of inhumanity  
The Princess was about to answer me, when she saw the King her Brother appear, and come to her in the same Alley with the principal persons of the Court: I retired upon my own accord at his sight, and not desiring to present myself before the King and those that followed him but as rarely as I could, I turned through another Alley, and went out of the Garden, and at the Gate I found Narcissus and my two Squires which attended me.  
Hitherto all things had succeeded more happily than I dared to desire, and I had all the reason that could be to be satisfied with my fortune; but mark the accident which befell me when I least feared it, whereby our resolutions were overthrown, and the Scene of our affairs was entirely changed.  
Lucius Cepio, one of the most noble Knights of Rome, but the most inconsiderate and imprudent man in the world, having been banished from Rome a little before, and retiring himself into some of the Asiatic Provinces, was come to Artaxata, the evening before, without my knowing of it; he had already saluted the King, and was going to wait upon him in the Garden where he was then walking, when by chance he met me in the Court of the Palace attended by my three servants, and some other friends that I had acquired in that Court under the name of Alcippus, Cepio no sooner saw me but he presently knew me, and having no discretion himself, nor any knowledge of my affairs, running immediately to me with an inconsiderate action: O Gods, cried he, what adventure is this, to find the Prince Alexander, to find the Son of Anthony in Artaxata! All the Court, as ordinarily it is, was full of persons that walked there; and they had no sooner seen the action, and heard the exclamation of Cepio, but they all drew near us out of a desire to learn some news: In the mean time I was surprised, that I could make Cepio no reply, and some persons who came in with him, telling him that he was deceived, and that I could not possibly be the man he thought me to be: What said he to them, do you believe that I do not know Alexander, that I do not know the Son of Anthony and Cleopatra, whom I have seen brought up from his cradle, and for whose absence I have left at Rome the chiefest persons of the Empire in disquiet? With these words he drew near to salute me, and I was so astonished at this discourse, and received his salutation without replying one word; besides my silence, the changing of my countenance betrayed me, and there appeared at first so much trouble therein, that all the persons who took notice of it, did not doubt but that Cepio had spoken the truth; there were divers persons there (as the greater number is inclined rather to mischief than to goodness) which ran to the King to carry him this news, and he was informed from several mouths at the same time, that Alcippus, one of the Princess' Domestics, was Prince Alexander the son of Anthony and Cleopatra.  
Artaxus being surprised at this discourse, though he gave but little credit to it, sent part of his guard, commanding them to bring me into his presence, and Cepio, who had discovered me, along with me: When they came to me I began to recover a little out of the astonishment whereunto this adventure had cast me; and when they commanded me to follow them, and go to the King along with them, I laid my hand upon the hilt of my sword; but seeing myself alone, and environed with such a great number of armed men, I knew very well that my resistance would be to no purpose; and so yielding to my fortue, I went back into the Garden with them, and marched towards the King, who being full of impatience at such an accident, came to meet me: Cepio beginning then to understand the fault he had committed, was sorry for it, and would have made his Apology to me, which, instead of making some reparation, quite spoiled all: I came before Artaxus and the Princess his sister, who was then present with him; but if in the countenance of the brother I saw indignation painted out to the life, I beheld in the sister's face so many signs of astonishment and grief, that at this object of displeasure my courage almost failed me.  
Artaxus having divers times surveyed me from head to foot; Is it true, said he, that you are the son of Anthony? I continued at first unresolved what answer I should make him, endeavouring to read in the countenance of the Princess what her intention was; and in the mean while the King turning himself towards Cepio with a threatening action, demanded of him if I were not the son of Cleopatra: The imprudent Cepio, though sorry for his fault, and courageous even to the excess of rashness, yet being astonished at the adventure, knew not what to reply, and therefore I saved him the labour; I was ashamed that out of some appearance of fear I had refused to speak the truth at the first ask; and doubting that it might be drawn out of Cepio's mouth, I desired to prevent it, and did believe that I ought not to conceal my birth upon any consideration whatsoever. Upon these thoughts, looking upon the King with an assured countenance; Ask not Cepio, said I, that which I am ready to confess to you, my birth is too noble to be disavowed, 'tis certain my name is Alexander, and I am the son of Anthony and Cleopatra.  
Artaxus stepped back a few paces at this discourse, beholding me with eyes inflamed with fury, and after that, lifting them up on a sudden towards heaven; O Artibasus, cried he, O deplorable Father of a Son, who was too weak to give thee succour: If hitherto thy Manes have been unsatisfied with my cares, and if I have not been able to appeal them by part of that hateful blood, behold me now in a condition to sacrifice to thee the most agreeable and most just victim that could ever be afforded to thee. And afterwards turning himself towards me with an action full of terror; I am sorry, said he, that thou hast but one life to satisfy; and if the Gods had bestowed more upon thee, I might make a more agreeable sacrifice of them to the soul of a King, whom against all manner of right thy Parents put to a cruel death; since it hath been the will of heaven that the cruel executioners of the greatest King of Asia should escape my vengeance, but not from that of the Gods, who have brought them to an end suitable to their crimes, I will take such as they please to send me, and will make such an example of thee, as all the world shall take notice of.  
Artaxus spoke in this manner, but I was not at all intimidated by his threatenings, and without being troubled, I replied: Artaxus I will not justify nor excuse my Parents actions before thee, if they caused thy Father's death 'tis possible they were induced to it by some lawful occasion: thou knowest I was then of an age that was capable to take little cognizance of it: but if, notwithstanding I was absolutely innocent of the displeasure done thee, thou findest in me any matter to satiate the resentments, follow the motions wherewith they inspire thee, and do not expect that I should beg thee to reflect upon the birth of a man who is not born thy inferior, or upon the vicissitudes of fortune, which may yet throw thee into the power of my relations, as I am fallen into thine. Neither the consideration of his birth, answered Artaxus; nor of the inconstancy of fortune to which Cleopatra herself was shortly after exposed, could guard my Father from her cruelty, and when she took off his head by the hand of an Executioner, she had not the death of a Father to revenge as I have, nor the least occasion to violate upon his account what is due to the Persons of Kings: when upon so just a motive of revenge, I shall do what she did out of a base desire to oblige the King of the Medes, no Person will blame me, and thou art not innocent, because thou art the Son of the murderers of my Father: but to this reason, which might give thee a thousand deaths, thou hast added another, by continuing disguised as thou hast done in my Dominions, thou couldst not have continued concealed and unknown, as thou hast done, in the Court and near the Person of thine Enemy upon any good motive: Tell us the occasion of this brave design, and do not hide from us a truth that we shall force out of thy mouth, if thou dost not make a voluntary confession of it. I valued thy power too little; replied I, to content thy curiosity out of fear of thy menaces, and though the occasion which hath brought me into thy Dominions hath glory enough in it to justify it to the World, thou shalt be the last to whom I will make confession of it. Young man, replied the King with a smile full of sharpness, we shall see if this resolution will accompany thee to the last: and then turning himself towards the Princess his Sister who had harkened to our Dialogue more like a dead than a living person, and by the divers changes of her countenance expressed a part of her thoughts: Madam, said he, this Egyptian was not unknown to you, whom I suspected at the first sight, and whose part you took so earnestly: If he had been known to me, answered the Princess, I should not have permitted him to continue so long so near an Enemy, whose inclinations I was acquainted with: If yours replied the King, were such as they ought to be, you would have a resentment equal to mine against the murderers of the King your Father, but you sufficiently discover to me by your countenance, your discourse & your past actions, that instead of a just enemy, as you ought to be, Alexander hath found you a person more affectionate than your duty did permit: 'tis you alone without doubt that have retained him with you, and this intelligence you hold with him is the effect of that amity you contracted with him whilst your Father's head was cutting off.  
These words sensibly touched the Princess, but she having a courage that could hardly dissemble her thoughts, and believing it a baseness upon this occasion absolutely to deny them, made no difficulty in part to discover them, and looking upon the King with a countenance void of fear, I have contracted no amity with Alexander, answered she, wherewith I may fear to be reproached, and I call the Gods to witness that during his continuance with me, I knew him for no other than Alcippus: but when I knew him to be Alexander, the resentments which are common to us both against the culpable, were not extended to the innocent, and if upon my account he hath exposed himself to the danger whereinto he is fallen, next to my honour I have nothing so dear that I would not have given to save him from it.  
Artaxus became almost mad at this discourse of the Princess, and not being able to dissemble his rage: Madam, said he, since you are so pitiful to your Enemies, you shall have matter enough shortly to exercise your compassion. Carry him to prison, continued be, turning himself toward the principal Officers of his Guards, whom be called by their names, and upon pain of your Lives see that he be kept laden with Irons, till by a public spectacle I make all Armenia see their King's revenge.  
I did not vouchsafe a reply to these cruel words of the Armenian, and only casting a look upon Artemisa where by I declared as much as possibly I could, that I died for her without repugnance, I marched in the middle of the guards that environed me, towards the Prison whither they conducted me. Thus as you see, I passed from felicity to danger in an instant, and that supreme happiness to which Artemisa some moments before had advanced me, aught to be counterbalanced by some misfortune; my projects hitherto had been crowned with too prosperous success, and this too great a calm was without doubt the presage of a urious tempest.  
I was, according to the intention of Artaxus, really conducted into the common Prison, and not into those places of restraint for the custody of Princes, or any persons of a considerable condition: and though out of the respect or pity of those who had the command to do it, I was not loaden with Irons as he had ordered yet I was kept under so severe and strict a guard, that all my liberty had no greater extent, than the limits of a Chamber strongly grated with Iron; my two Squires came presently to serve me in my imprisonment, but Narcissus kept himself close, both because he was an Armenian and so would have been worse used than servants that were strangers, and also because being at liberty he continued in a condition to do me greater services, than if he had been in prison with me.  
I know not well, generous Cleomedon, how to express to you what my thoughts were at that time; the fear of Death did not much intimidate me, and Heaven had given me courage enough to meet it in all its most horrible appearances; but having at that time no misfortunes in my life, which might make me hate it, and on the contrary having seen myself a few moments before in a most glorious condition, and the fairest hopes in the world, I could not be deprived of them so suddenly without regret, nor change the favours of Artemisa for a common prison, from whence, according to Artaxus his threatenings, I could not hope to come but only to my death: Being young as I was: and in a flourishing condition of life, these thoughts were hard of digestion, and I could not think that possibly within a few days I should lose my head in public, and draw the people of Armenia to the spectacle of my death, without losing some part of my constancy, and yielding to something that favoured of youth, and the infirmity of nature: but again, when I reflected upon the cause for which I suffered, and that I came to think that it was for Artemisa's sake only that I saw myself exposed to this danger, I found a sweet consolation in that thought; I would suffer more yet for Artemisa, said I, if it were possible, and it ought to be indifferent to me which way I part with my life for her, which I have given her without condition.  
But if I were sensible of some grief which was almost entirely grounded upon the regret I had to quit Artemisa, the Princess, as I have been informed since was so much afflicted at my misfortune, that she could hardly bear it with any moderation; She loved me before this disgrace, as well out of a remembrance of our former affections which continued deeply engraved in her mind, as out of an acknowledgement which she believed was due to what I had undertaken for her; but after the arrival of this unlucky accident, and that she saw me fallen into great danger upon her occasion, the moderate affection she had for me before was changed into a violent passion, and as she naturally had as generous inclinations as any person in the World, so she believed herself obliged not only to love me better than before, and to engage all her credit for my safety, but to perish herself if she could not divert my destruction: No Levoippe, said she, to that faithful Trustee of her most secret thoughts, I make no difficulty to confess before thee, and will confess before the whole World, if need be, that now I love Alexander more than myself, and that Artaxus could not redouble the affection I had for him with more violence than by the effects of his cruelty; one hour of imprisonment, one moment of danger hath gained more for Alexander, upon my spirit, than a year of service could have done; and I cannot think that he is in prison for love of me, and that for my love only he is possibly upon the point to satiate the rage of his enemy, without acknowledging by bestowing my heart upon him, that I cannot pay him so much as a part of what I owe him: Let us dispose ourselves therefore to render him part of what he hath done for us, let us not permit ourselves to be reproached, that, after we had drawn him into danger by our former amity, and the command we laid upon him in our infancy, we have basely and ungratefully abandoned him, let us try all manner of ways for his safety, and if they be all unsuccessful, let us perish couragisly with him, and not dream of living without him, seeing we are not permitted to live with him as we had resolved.  
Upon this design she began to set all manner of Engines at work for my safety, and the first thing she did was to send her most faithful servants post to advertise Augustus of my misfortune, and to interess Octavia, Marcellus, and all my nearest friends in procuring my liberty, and because they were uncertain which way to take, because of a rumour that had passed some days for current, that Augustus was departed from Rome to make his progress through the Provinces of Asia which are under the obedience of our Empire, she sent divers persons several ways with the like commission; but this way to save me was too long, by reason of the hast they made to frame my process, and the Princess desiring to essay all other means, gained with all the address she could possibly, all those of the Armenian Court that had the most power over the King's inclinations to oblige them to sweeten him and divert him from the fatal design he had against me; She endeavoured most of all to gain those who had the charge of guarding me, working this effect by her caresses to the chief of them, and her presents to those of inferior condition. In all these businesses she made use of the address and the fidelity of Narcissus, whom she had known a long time, and though he kept himself concealed part of the day, yet when he was in less danger of being discovered, he employed himself in those commissions she gave him, with wonderful care and affection.  
In the mean time Artaxus resolved, or rather continued in the resolution he had already taken to put me to death; and besides his will was to an ignominy to the punishment, and to make the head of Cleopatra's son to be publicly cut off by the hand of the Executioner, as by the command of that Queen, Artibasus had received the like, or little different usage in Alexander. He proposed his design to some persons of his council not to govern himself by their advice, but to acquaint them with his will: the greatest part of his Counsellors, either out of a repugnance which they really had against this cruelty, or out of respect of Artemisa, who had solicited them before in my behalf, endeavoured to divert him from this resolution, and represented to him that he would render himself odious to all the world by shedding innocent blood, and putting to death one of the greatest Princes of the Universe for another's fault, that he would put himself in danger to draw upon him many powerful enemies, and in particular, Augustus, who, as they were informed, loved me and supported me no less than those who were nearest to him, that he ought not to be too hasty in an action of this importance, which without doubt would cause a late and unprofitable repentance. They used many more arguments besides, capable to divert him from his design, if he had heard them without passion: but he could hardly endure the discourse, and looking with an evil eye upon those who uttered it: There must be, said he, other persuasions than yours, to make me change my resolution, and all the considerations upon earth will scarcely be able to do it: the judgements of my neighbours and of all the world besides are all of small importance to me, so I satisfy myself, and they who shall understand that I have revenged the cruel injury done to our family by the blood of Anthony 's son, and appeased my Father's Ghost which still cries out against his murderers, they will find less cruelty in that action, than pity and respect to the memory of my Father, Augustus himself cannot but approve of it, when he calls to mind that Artibasus was his Ally, and that it was partly for his interests that his Enemies put him to death, and because the solicitations of Alexander 's kindred may possibly oblige him to intercede for his safety, by the speediness of the execution I will prevent the request he may make upon that account, and I will not put myself in danger, either to disoblige Caesar, by refusing what he shall demand, or grant him a thing which no power but his, nor possibly his neither, should ever obtain of me.  
In these terms he declared his intention, and the mean while to render himself the less odious to Caesar, he was willing to observe some formality and shadow of justice in his revenge, and commanded they should make my Process not only as I was the Son of Anthony, but as an enemy who was come disguised into his Court, and had continued there a great while with the designs against his State and life.  
Artemisa hearing of this precipitation, was so troubled at it, that she continued a long time not knowing what counsel to take, and after she had in vain essayed to prevail with her brother by their Prayers whom he loved best, she resolved to hazard her own, finding no repugnance which might hinder her from rendering what she thought was due to that she loved: She visited the King in his Privy-Chamber, where she had never been since the words he spoke to her that day I was taken, and finding him in a condition to hearken to her; Sir, said she, though I have seemed, and perhaps may still seem suspicious to you, yet I will make no difficulty to implore your pity for Alexander's safety, and to represent to you that he is so innocent of the injury we received from his relations, that you cannot lay the punishment of it upon him, without making yourself to be accused of a vice, which eternally brands the memory of Kings. I observe such stains in you, replied the King, smartly interrupting her, that you will never wash off whilst you live; and if your interests, which ought to be the same with mine, were but as dear to you as the Enemy of your Family, you would abandon him without doubt, to wipe away our suspicions; If he were innocent in Alexandria he is not so in Artaxata, and it is a crime great enough in him to fix his love in a Family, where he ought to expect nothing but hatred. Sir, answered the Princess, I will confess whatsoever you shall please to accuse me of, and if this confession may any way conduce to Prince Alexander's safety; I will confess, Sir, that I love him more than myself, I am possibly so much obliged to him, that I may make this acknowledgement without fear of being blamed, but all the affection I ever had for him could never draw me from the submission I owe to your pleasure, and the Gods are my witnesses that I never had a thought to engage myself to any person but by your command: O Gods, cried Artaxus, stopping two or three paces back, what is this I here! what Artemisa do you confess without blushing that you love Alexander? I do love him, Sir, replied the Courageous Princess, and if my affection could have made me blush at the confession of it, I should never have loved him: I owe so much to the former compassion he had of our misfortune to the memory of Artemisa, which he hath so dearly preserved, and to the danger whereinto he is come to throw himself for love of me, that except I were insensible to all things, I cannot be so to his affection: yet the Gods know, and I protest to you before them, that he always passed for Alcippus in my thoughts as well as in yours, and after I knew him to be Alexander I never spoke to him but only that day he was taken, and the end of my discourse then was only to command him to retire; the interest I have in his misfortune, as being the sole cause of it, tenders me passionate for his safety, and makes me hope I shall obtain it of your Majesty if you render Artemisa's welfare. I loved Artemisa, answered the barbarous Prince, as long as she was worthy of my friendship; but now that she prefers the amity of my enemy before mine, I cannot look upon her but as my enemy.  
With these words he left her without any farther harkening to her, and went into a chamber by, leaving her full of confusion and mortally afflicted; her grief was observed in her countenance by all those who saw her retire to her apartment, and when she was at liberty to express it, she did it in such a manner as made all her maids that were near her melt into tears of compassion: Cruel man, said she, thou needest pronounce but one sentence to rid thyself of two enemies at once, and at one blow thou wilt finish the destiny of the Son of Anthony and the Daughter of Artibasus: that heart of thine which is unaccessible to pity, may satiate itself with a more entire revenge by destroying together with Alexander that which he loves better than himself, and thy zeal will appear much greater in revenging our father's death, when in shedding a stranger's blood thou hast not spared thine own. She spent part of the day in these complaints, and in the evening Narcissus having sent her word by Leucippe, that he had prevailed with one of my Keepers, and if she had any thing to impart to me she might do it with confidence, she joyfully embraced the opportunity of writing to me what was upon her heart.  
In the mean time if I were afflicted, and suffered much in my imprisonment, it was more than any thing else, for the displeasure I had, neither to see, nor to hear from her: my two Squires were permitted to serve me in the prison, but they had not the liberty to go out, and Narcissus who without had not permission to see me, neither did he dare to appear there for fear of being surprised, and so made unserviceable to me: Being ignorant as I was of all that passed, I knew not yet whether I ought to complain of Artemisa or commend her, and I had so little confidence in, and acquaintance with those that guarded me, that I would never ask them any thing upon that account.  
One day having some thoughts that I was not beloved by Artemisa, and being more sad than ordinary, the Gods sent me some comfort, and one of my Keepers coming near the bed whereupon I then lay, and feigning to stoop down to take up something that he had let fall on purpose: Sir, said he to me softly, confide in me, if you please, I desire to serve you, and for a beginning see what Narcissus hath sent. With these words he stretched forth his arm a little, and let fall a paper upon my bed: I immediately clapped my hand upon it, and with my other laying hold of Soldier's arm, Friend, said I, I will not be unthankful for thy good office. I could not look upon the Letter presently for fear of making the Soldier suspected, but a little after causing Tidus to bring a light, and drawing the paper from under my clothes, as if I had had it a long while, I opened it and found these words written with Artemisa's own hand.  
Princess Artemisa to the Prince Alexander.  
THEY would not have me see you, they would not have me speak for you, they would not have me love you; they may hinder me from the sight of you, they may prohibit me to speak to you: but my dear Alexander they cannot hinder me from loving you, this declaration is very free, but possibly the condition to which my love hath reduced you may warrant me to do it; and I will add this too, that my destiny shall be the same with yours, and Artaxus shall execute nothing against you which shall not be equally fatal to Artemisa; I will try all means to destroy your liberty, and if all things fail me upon that design, you shall see me run the hazard of your fortune without repugnance: Receive, my dear Alexander, the assurance I give you of it, and expect whatever may be done by her who will undertake all things for you as cordially as for herself.  
O Gods! what sweet consolation did I receive at the reading of that Letter, and with what transports did I behold the dear marks of the remembrance and affection of my Princess? the acknowledgement only due to so great a goodness might have produced puissant effects in a soul prepossessed but with a slight passion, but in mine that was all on fire, and inflamed with love, this knowledge could not find place, without bringing a satisfaction along with it that made me cherish my pains, and rendered me more glorious in my imprisonment and sufferings, than other persons would have been in the most sublime and illustrious fortune: Let us not complain any longer, said I, of our destiny, and since my adorable Princess so sweetly assists us in supporting our captivity, let us prefer it before the most absolute liberty, and never desire an end of it, seeing by that means we receive so precious an assurance of our happiness: Ah! Artemisa a thousand times more generous, than your brother is inhuman, by what proofs of love, or by what services can I have merited this passion which you express for my interests? and what blood can I shed by the cruel orders of Artaxus, which can acquit me from so dear and pressing an obligation? but though, to acquit myself to my Princess I should willingly die her servant, and be totally hers even to death, when will it be in my power to disengage myself? Upon these thoughts I cast mine eyes once more upon the Letters, and finding occasion in every word to outbrave fortune, and to despise my disgraces, I read it over again with an action wholly conformable to the ravishment of my soul, After I had bestowed some hours upon this employment, I thought of writing an answer; there was no body hindered me from writing, and I might do it upon pretence of easing my thoughts upon the paper; but if my keepers had known that I had sealed delivered my Letters, they would either have been read or carried to the King: I had need therefore to make use of the same secrecy to deliver mine, as was observed to give me Artemisa's Letter, and in the mean time having called for paper to divert myself in writing somewhat, as I said, I made the Princess this answer.  
Prince Alexander, to The Princess Artemisa.  
MY Enemies may exercise all the cruelty against me, that their resentments can inspire them with, and I defy them to render the ill they intent me equal to the least part of the felicity you have bestowed upon me: I only conjure you, my divine Princess, that you would be pleased to moderate it a little, since the value of a thousand such lives as mine is too much below your generous sentiments; The Gods preserve me from the displeasures of seeing you enveloped in my disgrace, and let them make me the object of their most formidable vengeance, rather than permit you to participate of my misfortunes; they have lost that name since they have caused your pity, and I desire that you would be pleased not to complain of them, since by them I am exalted to the most sublime fortune that ever I could aspire to.  
After I had written this Letter, I closed it, without folding it up, as if it had been some other thing, and in the evening, when no body could dream of it, I delivered it to my Keeper almost in the same fashion as I had received mine, and with a Jewel of good value to oblige him to persevere in his good offices: by his means I received some other Letters which afforded me all the consolation in my displeasures that I could desire, but it was impossible for me to have a sight of the Princess, though she expressed a great desire of it on her part, and the two Commanders to whose custody I was committed, being stern and inexorable men, executed their Master's will with such a severity as they could not be taken off from, by any entreaty or consideration whatsoever.  
One day having some talk with the more brutish of the two, who was called Eurylochus after some discourse, wherein he had sufficiently discovered his rude and savage humour to me: I know not, said I, why the King spins out the time of my imprisonment so long, I think he might do well to give me speedily either death or liberty, As for liberty; replied Eurylochus, I believe you have no cause to hope for it, and as for death, I should think you might wait his leisure, who hath the power over your life. This uncivil and cruel answer provoking me against him who gave it me: Artaxus hath this power, answered I, because I have given it him myself, and if I had preferred my life before what I sought for in his Dominions, both he, and all Armenia besides, had been too weak to reduce the Son of Anthony under his power, who hath often seen as high born Princes as Artaxus is attending upon him. That time is passed with you, said the insolent Eurylochus, and since fortune hath now submitted you to those who heretofore attended upon you, you must do by them as they did once by you, and expect your destiny from their will, as they expected and received from Anthony's.  
These words full of Pride and reproach, put me into such choler against him that spoke them, that I could not dissemble, but looking upon him with an eye full of disdain and indignation both together; 'Tis thy interest, said I to him, to oppose my liberty, and if it pleased the Gods that we were in another condition, assure thyself thy life should pay for thy insolence. Eurylochus, though he was in a condition not to fear my threatenings, looked pale at this discourse, and seeing something in my face, which in spite of the condition wherein I then was, forced him to some respect, he held down his head and turned himself another way without reply.  
After that day, I had no more conversation either with him or his companion, but I entertained myself only with my two faithful servants, who were acquainted with the whole secret of my life, and sometimes, when I could by stealth, with the Keeper, that brought me the Princess' Letters.  
In fine, after some scurvy formalities that Artaxus made use of in his proceedings, by his cruel orders I was condemned to lose my head upon a scaffold in the great place of Artaxata; the rumour of it presently spread itself through the whole City, but I assure myself that the most pitiless of the inhabitants did not approve that cruelty. Cepio, by whose imprudence I was reduced to this condition, who since that time had not stirred from Artaxata, was one of the first that heard that news: He almost died with grief, when he considered himself as the cause of my misfortune, and the only cause of his stay in the Armenian Court was to seek some occasion to make some reparation for the fault he had committed. When he understood the cruel sentence passed against me, he went boldly to present himself before Artaxus, and without fear of the danger he might incur by provoking him: King of Armenia, said he, I understand that you have condemned the Son of Antony to a shameful death, but take good heed how you execute that sentence which will be your ruin, and give no way to the death of that Prince, except you desire to see the destruction of your People, and the absolute desolation of your Dominions. And who shall lay desolate my Dominions, replied the King of Armenia with a scornful look, who shall ruin my people and execute thy threats? Augustus' answered Cepio, and all the principal persons of Rome, who either by blood or friendship have interest in Alexander, the whole Empire, the whole World, will arm with them for the revenge of that Prince; and you will see such powers fall upon you, upon this quarrel, as will infallibly ruin you. Augustus, replied Artaxus, ought rather to be a friend to me, than to the son of his enemy, and the remainders of the blood of Anthony will not be more considerable to him, than the Kings of Armenia his most ancient Allies. I● Augustus be disinteressed, as without doubt he is, I do not much value the rest, and to those powers thou talkest of I shall oppose others that shall protect me from the effect of thy menaces: but let what will happen, the Son of Cleopatra shall die to morrow, and thou shalt have thy part in the spectacle if thou hast a mind to it, in the public place: Yes bluntly replied Cepio, I will have my share in the Spectacle, and seeing the young Prince is fallen into this misfortune by my imprudence, I will hazard my dearest blood in endeavouring the reparation of my fault. With these words he went from the King who had left harkening to him before, and would not have suffered him to have said so much, if those about him had not persuaded him to give way a little to the humour of this hare-brained man.  
In the mean while the Princess no sooner understood that the sentence of my death was passed, and that I was to die the next day without delay, but she flew out of her chamber transported with grief, with an intention to make use of the last remedies that were left her: As she was going to the King, she found him upon the top of the stairs, and she no sooner saw him, but running to him with an action full of the marks of her grief, and casting herself at his knees, which she embraced, and moistened with her tears: Sir, said she, once my brother full of tenderness and affection, and now a King inaccessible to pity, either command my life to be taken away in your presence, or give me Alexander ' s. The barbarous King was not at all moved to compassion at this spectacle, but rudely snatching himself out of his Sister's arms; Die if thou wilt, said he, woman without resentment or honour, and believe that in the disesteem thou hast caused me to have of thee, I shall be so far from giving thee Alexander 's life, that I would not give the life of the least of my enemies to save thine.  
With these words he flung away without so much as looking upon her more, and the Princess rising up full of grief and despair; Yes Monster, cried she, I will die, and death will be a thousand times more sweet to me, than the life I can lead with a Tiger and a Barbarian; I will die, seeing thou wouldst have it so, but by my death I will furnish thee with revenging furies which shall eternally torment thee. At these expressions breaking out a fresh into tears, and being in a condition that imprinted a tender compassion in all that were present at this action, she ran to her apartment where she threw herself between the arms of Leucippe and the rest of her women, and was ready to expire there through the violence of her grief: What Alexander, said she, shalt thou die, and shall this unfortunate creature, for whom thou hast exposed thyself with so much love, not have the credit with a brother to divert the inhuman instrument of death from thy head? Doth this day only remain to thee of that life which thou hadst so generously bestowed upon me, and shall I behold the bloody preparatives of thy death without preventing it? Ah no, Alexander, hope better of my courage, and do not suspect me of a baseness whereof I am not capable: I might possibly have lived, or lingered out a few days in grief, if any other kind of death had separated us, but dying here, and dying only for my sake, who wert always faithful to me since our first acquaintance, I am engaged both by my affection, and by my honour, to bear thee company, it shall never be laid as a reproach upon me that I drew thee hither, by the command I did once lay upon thee, to sacrifice thee in our Country to the passion of an inhuman brother; and Cleopatra, that Cleopatra, which by her cruelty authorized Artaxu 's, shall never accuse me amongst the shades below for approving, against her blood, of the revenging of the injury which she did to our family. She spoke some other words besides, after which having employed all the rest of the day almost, in seeking unprofitably for some expedients for my assistance, at last she abandoned herself to desperate resolutions.  
All this while I was in prison, where about the end of the day my sentence was pronounced to me, and I was advertised to prepare myself for death: the terrible countenances of those that brought me this news could not refrain from showing some signs of compassion, and according to their report they found something extraordinary in my face which made them regret my destiny: I will not tell you that I received this sad intelligence without being troubled at it, and whatsoever courage Heaven bestows upon a man, when his mind is not prepossessed with despair, it is a difficult thing for him to endure the face of an horrible and shameful death, without astonishment and trouble: I was young, and more happy in the affection of Artemisa than I had confidence to wish, and in a likelihood to improve my life to the best advantages, these reasons without doubt made me find death of a more hard digestion, than usually it is to those whose misfortunes smooth the face of it; I confess I was troubled, and that I had a combat with nature; wherein reason at first did not prevail without some difficulty, and I could not dispose myself without regret to abandon my hopes: but yet after I had yielded a little to humane frailty, I was sooner resolved than many persons very timorous would have been, and at last I made use of my courage to let my enemies know that all the ill they could do me was not capable to cast me down, After I began to speak: O Cleopatra, said I, 'tis just that since I have received my life from you, I should render it back for the reparation of your faults: And afterwards turning myself towards them that had brought me news of my death; Artaxus, said I, doth very vigorously revenge the death of his father, and hath taken a great deal of pains, and run a great many hazards for his own satisfaction; but tell him that he should have taken his course by way of arms both against Anthony, and the deceased King of the Medes, for the liberty or the revenge of his Father, and that this which he now takes upon me, can neither repair the baseness he hath committed in suffering this injury for the time past, nor give me so much regret for my death, as to oblige me to be beholding to him for my life, if he should be in the humour to give it me: yet let him know that his cruelty shall not remain unpunished, and that, I shall leave persons behind me, who shall more nobly and more generously call him to account for this offence. I sent them back with these words, and staying with those of my ordinary guard I began by little to surmount all the difficulties that I found in this passage.  
Night was come on, when the Keeper that was wont to give me Artemisa's Letters by the means he was accustomed to use, presented me with the last which she had written an hour before, and with the Letter he gave me a little Vessel wrapped up in a paper; the little necessity I had at that time to dissemble my affairs made be presently open the Letter, and at the sight of those dear Characters which I immediately kissed, not being able to forbear some tears: O Artemisa, said I, 'tis just that your goodness should continue as long as my life, but after my death wish you a repose which may never be crossed by any remembrance of Alexander; and after I had given some kisses more to this precious writing, I read these words.  
The Princess Artemisa to Prince Alexander.  
YOu must die, my dear Alexander, and I would not send you this news but that I am resolved to die with you: all my hopes are extinguished; Artaxus is inexorable, and I see myself at last reduced to that deplorable condition I so much feared: Let us die since Heaven hath so decreed it, but let us not suffer Artaxus, and the People of Armenia, to glut their eyes with the cruel spectacle: By this poison that I send you, you may avoid the shame they intent you, and I have kept as much for myself to avoid the shame I should have to survive you; Adieu my dear Alexander, and if by my death I do not acquit myself of what I owe to yours, let your affection supply that defect, and believe that if my life were far more precious I should have given it you with all my heart.  
There was hardly any need either of dagger or poison to take away my life at the reading of this Letter, and I was so struck to the heart that grief alone wanted but a little of immediately contenting the rage of my Enemies, these last testimonies of Artemisa's unmoveable affection rendered me the most happy of men; but they made me find some regret too in my death▪ which without doubt I should not have done, if she had not loved me, and seeing her, as she sent me word, in a resolution to die, I was seized with so violent a displeasure at it, that there was no room for comfort in my soul: I took the Vessel wherein the poison she sent me was, and delivered it to Tideus to prepare it in a potion, receiving this present from Artemisa with a great deal of satisfaction, as likely to free me from the shame wherein a great part of the punishment to which I was destinied, did consist: After I had sufficiently tormented myself at the Princess' design, wherein I found sufficient reason to die desperate, if I should not divert her from it, I desired to give her the last assurances of my fidelity in a Letter which I wrote unto her in these terms.  
Prince Alexander to the Princess Artemisa.  
I Am ready to die, my dear Princess, and I part from this life without any other regret, than of quitting you for ever: I shall die but half if you preserve that part of me, which I leave you, and death itself cannot take from you: but I shall die twice, and the most cruel death that can be imagined, if you suffer me to part in that fear whereinto your fatal resolution hath put me: I have dearly received the present you sent me, but I conjure to employ the remainder for other uses, than for the destruction of the most perfect Master piece of the Gods; a loss so inconsiderable as mine should not give a Princess of your quality occasions of despair, and you cannot conceive a thought of it without rendering my end full of horror, and giving me greater resentments against your cruelty, than against that of the King your brother: Live then to reserve yourself for a better fortune, and live that you may let me live still in your memory; if I could obtain this assurance of you before my death, I should receive it with such satisfaction as without doubt would deprive Artaxus of a great part of his revenge, and in hope not to find you inexorable to this my last supplication, I likewise make this my last protestation before you and the Gods not only that I die yours, but that death itself is not capable to take Alexander from you.  
It was much easier for me to deliver this Letter to my Keeper than at other times, and this last night my enemies were pleased to express a little more complaisance to me than before. After this, being desirous to put all things in order, I divided some Jewels I had between my two Squires, and commanded them to give Narcissus a share, and to signify to him how sensible I was of his fidelity; but they melted into tears at this discourse, and made it appear to me by their actions, that they were in a bad capacity to take notice of the orders I gave them. There was nothing in the prison but horror and dreadful silence, and the greatest part of the night being past, a little before day I called to Tydeus for the poison I had given him, which he had already prepared for me in a potion: Tydeus made some difficulty at the first to do it, telling me I ought not to take it but in case of extremity, and there might some change happen in the King of Armenia's mind, or in my condition by some accidents which might free me from the danger I was in; but having convinced him that these were ridiculous, and that if I should defer any longer to serve myself with this remedy, it would not have done its execution within the time prefixed, and so would prove useless as to the design I had to avoid a shameful death by its assistance, he disposed himself at last to obey me, and went to fetch the vessel, which he presented to me with a trembling hand. They which saw this action, believing that he brought me something to drink, as he was often used to do, did not oppose it, but whether it were out of Tydeus his fear, or some design he had, when I reached out my hand to take the Cup, he let it go too soon, and either by his fault or mine it slipped from us both, and fell upon the floor, where all the Liquor was spilt.  
This accident caused me a sensible displeasure, but being upon terms to support any thing from my fortune, I stifled my resentment, and lifting up my eyes to heaven, 'Tis just, cried I, that my destiny should be punctually accomplished, and the punishment of the blood of Cleopatra would not be perfect, if I should die any other kind of death than Artibasus did.  
With these words resigning myself to the will of the Gods, without reasoning the case any farther, I threw myself upon my bed, either to get a little sleep, or to expect my death without troubling myself any farther. I confess that death presenting itself to my eyes in all its most horrible forms, did not permit me to sleep, and though possibly I should not so much have feared its approach, if it had been presented to me in a Battle, or upon some occasion where I might have disputed it with my Arms, or received it with glory, yet I could not think that within a few hours in the sight of the people of Armenia I should lose my head upon a Scaffold by an infamous hand, without finding a great repugnance in my nature against that kind of death: At last the darkness which augmented the horror of my condition vanished, and the Sun began to give light to that day which was destined to be the last of my Life.  
At daybreak, the place where I was to die was full of company, all the windows were taken up, and the people of Armenia accounting it a very extraordinary thing to see the Son of Anthony die in public, ran together in heaps to be present at that action. My Enemies to give some formality of honour to my birth, had caused the door of my prison, the Scaffold where I was to lose my life, and some other places where I was to pass, to be hung with black. I had already taken all the resolution that was necessary for me to go to die, without showing any tokens of weakness, and in expectation of my last hour, I passed the beginning of the day with some impatience. At last it came, to hold you no longer in suspense, and the cruel Ministers of Artaxus came to conduct me to my death; Eurylochus and Elpenor, the two chief of those that guarded me, were in the head of them, and I saw them no sooner appear, but advancing towards them: Behold the day, said I, that frees me from your cruelties, let us go Eurylochus, let us go Elpenor, I am prepared to die for Artemisa, and if the inhumanity of Artaxus hath nothing for me more terrible than death, he is too weak to terrify. Eurylochus having acquainted me in a few words that it was time to go, caused a man to come to me with a cord to tie my hands: This indignity moved me, and turning myself towards Eurylochus: What, said I, will they add this ignominy too to the death of Anthony 's Son? Artibasus, replied Eurylochus, was loaden with Irons, and the King uses you more gently than his Father was used by your Relations: I saw well enough it was to no purpose to oppose a thing which they would doin spite of me, in the weak condition I was, and not being willing to offer at such actions as possibly might be imputed to want of courage, I moderated my choler, and stretching forth my hands to him that held the cord: Do, said I to Eurylochus, cause these Prince's hands to be bound, whom thou usest unworthily to the very death, and do not suffer them to be free, if thou desirest to avoid that death which yet they may give thee. Eurylochus did what I said to him without any reply, and when I saw myself tied, I was a little moved with shame, which sent up a blush into my face: I turned myself then to my Squires, who lying at my feet, bathed them with a stream of Tears, and endeavouring to oblige them to some constancy by the expressions of mine. Go my Friends, said I, support your destiny with patience, and expect from my Brother and the Princess Octavia the recompense which I am not able to give you for your good services: tell them I do not desire them to revenge my death, if Artemisa disapproves of any thing that may be done against her Brother: but if the Princess abandons his interests, I desire of my kindred, and of Caesar the ruin of this barbarous King, who revenges injuries upon the innocent, and lets those that are culpable alone.  
I saw divers of those that guarded me weep at this discourse, and turning myself to the Commander, I bade them show me the way I was to go, they conducted me out of my Chamber amongst a great number of Javelins, and having passed the stairs I found at the gate a Chariot covered with black which waited for me, and in that I was mounted to march to the great place, I was followed and environed with a great number of men both on foot and on horseback, and in this manner I advanced into the streets, where by reason of the throng of People we could pass but very slowly: there were few persons amongst those that met me in my passing, but showed divers signs of compassion, and highly blamed the cruelty of their King: some spoke in pity of my youth wherein they saw me cruelly snatched from the fairest hopes: others paused upon something of gallantry that they saw in my face, and the greatest part reflected upon my birth and the inconstancies of fortune, which from the height wherein I had been formerly seen had thrown me down into so extraordinary a misfortune.  
We arrived at last at the place where I saw the fatal scaffold erected, and the press was so great that we could not get thither without a great deal of trouble: I lighted from the Chariot, and mounted upon the scaffold with a very assured countenance, to show my enemies that the fear of death had not much staggered me, and when I was at the fatal place where I was to lose my life, I walked a little and turned my eyes on every side upon the standers by, who had filled all the place and windows adjoining, I looked upon them a while without speaking, and then on a sudden addressing my discourse to those which were near enough to understand me: Armenians, said I, since it is the destiny of the innocent to suffer for the culpable, I believe you will one day undergo the punishment of your King's cruelty, as I am exposed to the resentments he might justly conceive against my relation: you may possibly see your blood shed in his quarrel as I am upon the point of giving mine for Cleopatra: I do not wish this to you, nor to Artaxus himself, because, as unworthy as he is, he is the Brother of the Princess Artemisa: but I very well foresee that the cruelty of your Prince will not remain unpunished, and I advise you his people and subjects, either to arm yourselves for his defence, or to quit his party. These words were heard by Artaxus himself, who out of an horrible baseness, had placed himself in an house adjoining, and from behind a glass window saw all that passed in the place.  
The infamous Ministers of my death were already upon the Scaffold, and the chief of them coming to me, told me that it was time for him to do his duty, and prayed me to let him bind my eyes with a cloth he had for that purpose; Friend, said I to him, I am not so much afraid of death, that I cannot see its approach without being frighted at it, I will receive it with my eyes open, without putting thee to the trouble of closing them before death does it. After these words, disposing myself to take my last farewell. O Artemisa, said I, I give you my life as willingly as you will bestow some tears upon my death. These words were followed with a mournful murmur of the greatest part of the standers by; and immediately after putting myself into a posture to receive the fatal blow, I commanded the Executioner to do his duty, and stretched out my neck under the instrument of death, which he lifted up into the air to separate my head from my body.  
O Gods! cried Caesario, at this part of Alexander's Narration, O Gods, is it possible that you should escape death after you were reduced to such great extremities, and that fortune which had brought you to so near a precipeice, should be ready to succour you in such a desperate condition? You shall hear, replied Alexander, a very strange event, and I am about to tell you of an action that can hardly be paralleled by all antiquity. Divers attributed it to folly, others to a real and uncommon generosity, and it is to that virtue, that in memory of him who did it for my sake, I will absolutely impute it, instead of robbing him of a glory which is due to him, which in ages to come they cannot deprive him of.  
My neck, as I told you, was stretched out, and the Executioner had already lifted up his arm to give the fatal Blow, when he was stopped by a voice which cried out, Hold, two or three times: He stopped his hand which he had advanced, believing it was some order from the King, and turning that way from whence he heard the voice, he saw a man who mounted upon the scaffold with a naked sword in his hand, who presently ran him through the body, and tumbled him dead at my feet. At the noise he made in falling down by me, I turned myself towards him who had done that action, and no sooner cast my eyes upon his visage, but I knew him to be Cepio, who animated by the most generous courage in the world, came to repair his imprudence by the boldest attempt that ever was undertaken. Narcissus followed him, but could not get near the Scaffold by reason of the press which environed it, and the great number of Soldiers that hindered his passage. Cepio had no sooner dispatched the Executioner, but he seized upon his sword, and coming to me; Alexander, said he, here's Cepio who having by his imprudence brought you to your death, comes to suffer with you: I cannot preserve you from it, but I will change the manner of it, and you will be more satisfied to die with a sword in your hand, than by an infamous arm. Before he had ended these words, he had already cut the cord which tied my hands, and gave me a sword: I felt myself animated by this assistance with an extraordinary courage, and looking upon Cepio with a countenance full of acknowledgement: I am sorry, Cepio, said I, that you run upon your death, and you do not owe me such a reparation as this for the ill you have innocently procured me: but since, through your generosity, we must die together, let us sell our lives dearly to our most cruel enemies. We had not time to make any longer discourse, and we saw already the Commanders of those that guarded me, followed by divers of their Soldiers, mounting the Scaffold with their swords in their hands: I no sooner knew the cruel Eurylochus and his companion at the head of the rest, but being seized with a motion of joy for the occasion that offered itself to me to revenge those indignities they had done me, I flew to Eurylochus with a threatening cry; Barbarian, said I, I have promised to be thy death, and thou shalt receive it at my hands, before I fall at the hands of thy companions. As I uttered these words, I put by a thrust which he made at me, and slipping under his sword, he thrust mine up to the hilts; his which I seized upon in the pass, I kept in my hand, and with that I laid Elpenor upon the head, who advanced to assist his companion, with so much ill fortune for him, that having cleft him to the middle of the face, after he had reeled a little way, he fell down dead upon those who were nearest to the Scaffold.  
I received no small consolation at the death of these two enemies, over what I expected, and seeing that Cepio with two mortal blows had tumbled two Soldiers down from the Scaffold at the same time; Courage, cried I, brave Cepio, we will not die alone to day, follow me into the thickest throng of our Enemies, and let us render our death famous by so many others, that we may have no cause to regret our own. Speaking these words, I threw myself from the Scaffold, upon the nearest of the Soldiers that environed it, and laying at all those, without any difference which I found in my way, I quickly made way enough with my Sword. Cepio was presently at my side, and seconded me with divers actions of admirable valour. 'Tis certain that there are no efforts comparable to those that proceed from persons which fear not death, and that when men have abandoned their lives, they are capable of doing prodigious executions: Upon another occasion, when he should have fought with some consideration of our own safety, without doubt we should not have done half we did upon this; but having lost all hope, all desire, and care but to revenge our death, we appeared to be somewhat more than men in this day's work, and we did actions that would hardly find belief, if they had not the testimony of many thousand witnesses.  
Our Enemies being intimidated by the great blows we dealt amongst them, as much as if our number had been equal with theirs, made way for us on both sides, and having no Commanders to encourage them, I believe they would have given us free passage if we had sought it; but instead of Elpenor or Eurylochus, they were animated by a more formidable voice than of any of their Captains, and then it was that the baseness of Artaxus rendered itself manifest to all his people, for he opened the Window behind which he concealed himself to satiate his eyes with the cruel spectacle, and showing his face to the Soldiers, he no sooner saw the disorder into which we had put them, but he cried out with a terrible voice, Whither do ye fly, O ye cowards, whither do ye fly from two men? And a little after seeing that at this cry they faced about and began to put themselves into a condition to set upon us; Take them, added he, and if ye cannot take them alive, kill them. At these words, the Soldiers being ashamed of the fear they had expressed, rallied up together, and began to environ us, and at the same time they turned the points of a thousand Javelins against us, we knew then that our death was not far of, but that was no news to us, nor any more than for what we were fully prepared; and therefore, casting a look upon Cepio, Let us die Cepio, said I, since you desire it, but before our death let us send some of our Enemies before us. I had scarcely made an end of these words when I saw my blood trickle down from some slight wounds, and poor Cepio having received two or three mortal ones, fell at my feet, where immediately after he expired.  
This man certainly for his courage and admirable generosity, deserved a better destiny, and if I had been in a condition to make some reflection upon his loss, I had without doubt, expressed all the resentments of grief that his valour, and the assistance he had given me could merit from my acknowledgement: Adieu brave Cepio, cried I, thou diest for my interests, but it shall not be long before I bore thee company. With these words I flew much more furiously into the middle of my Enemies, dispatching the two nearest to me, with the two first blows I gave them; some others besides bare them company, and I behaved myself so amongst them, that alone as I was, the boldest of them durst scarcely venture within the length of my Sword. Nevertheless, my resistance was to very little purpose, and though I had been more valiant than many Achilles' together, it was impossible for me to prolong my destiny: I retired myself against a wall, that I might not be assaulted but only before, and there my Enemies made a semicircle about me, and pressed me so close, that not being able to put by so many thrusts as they made at me, and finding already a great diminution of my strength, I was even a sinking under such a number, when Artaxus himself came into the place, and advanced himself towards that part where I was, crying out they should take me alive, and that they should take care of killing me upon pain of death.  
This command certainly saved me, and after I had defended myself a little longer, having engaged my sword in the body of a Soldier, who was forwarder than the rest, his companions threw themselves upon me in so great a number, that not being able to stir amongst them, I was thrown down and disarmed, a little after they tied my hands behind me, and in this condition they presented me to Artaxus, who came near us, and made the people give way that he might see me. After he had cast his eyes upon my face: Thou shalt not die, said he, as thou didst desire, and I am resolved that thou shalt not have the satisfaction of changing the kind of death I had ordained for thee, against my will; thou shalt return into the hands of an Executioner from whom thou fliest, but it shall be to die there in torments. I heard his threat without any fear, and looking upon him with more scorn than before; I expect from thee, said I, all that can be expected from a base and cruel man, and I know thou fearest my resentments too much to restore me to liberty.  
Artaxus made no reply to this discourse, but committed me to the custody of Theogenes and Sarpedon, and putting them in the place of Eurylochus and Elpenor, he commanded them to carry me back to prison, and to guard me there till he had deliberated what kind of death to put me too; fearing likewise lest I should die of my wounds, and so avoid the punishments he prepared for me, he gave order that I should be carefully looked to; and thus his cruelty was every way for my preservation, and by destining me to torments, he himself made way for my safety. I returned to the same prison from whence I came some hours before, without hope of seeing it again, and a little after they brought thither to me Narcissus and my two Squires, all three wounded, whom they had taken with their swords in their hands, endeavouring to force a way through the press to second Cepio in his generous intention. I was much comforted to see them, and to understand the effects of their fidelity; but I much regretted the death of the generous and unfortunate Cepio, and was ashamed to see myself alive after I had suffered that valiant man to die for my interests: He had been somewhat imprudent in the conduct of his life, but in all his actions he expressed an admirable courage, and it was his courage capable of undertaking all things that Augustus feared, and for that reason made him leave Rome; the glorious end of his life, did certainly deserve that I should make him a long Elogium, but for fear I should trouble you with too long a narration, I will speak no more of it, and will only tell you, that the memory of this man will never come into my mind, without causing me a real affliction, and though he had been the cause of all the danger wherein I had been, and was then at the present, he had so generously repaired his fault, that all the resentment I had for it, was changed into sorrow for his loss, which would hardly admit of any consolation; I had divers hurts, but they were all such slight ones, that they could scarcely oblige me to keep my bed, and having that knowledge that I had of Artaxus' cruel intentions, I should never have suffered them to have been looked to, if they had been capable of sending me into another world; yet there was great care taken of me by my Squires, and by the faithful Narcissus, who, contrary to all appearances, had still some hope of my safety.  
'Tis a long time since I spoke to you of Artemisa, though she it is of whom I ought to make the greatest part of my discourse, and it was she alone that had taken up almost all my thoughts in the midst of my greatest dangers: I had heard no news from her since her last Letter, and when I was returned into the prison, I continued there divers days without receiving any: The Keeper who was wont to deliver me her Letters, could not render me that office any longer, because Narcissus from whom he received them, was prisoner with me, and all that I could know by his means was, that according to the common report, the Princess almost died for grief that day, upon which they would have taken away my life, and that if her women had not hindered her, she would have poisoned herself; that since she had been indisposed, and seen by few persons.  
The Gods know with what inquietudes I passed the days of my last imprisonment, not being comforted with the tokens of her remembrance as I had been in the former, nor being able to gain any intelligence of my fortune, which I made absolutely to consist in her affection; sometimes I complained to myself, and began to suspect her of a little forgetfulness: but after I had made a reflection upon the testimonies I had received of her goodness, and the fresh obligations I had to her, condemned my complaints and suspicions as crimes, and confirmed myself in the resolution of dying for her without regretting it or repenting of it.  
In the mean time my hurts were almost cured in a few days, and my servants were perfectly well, and then I understood by those that guarded me, that the King, after he had wavered a while, was diverted by them who had some credit with him, from the design he had to make me die in torments, and was resolved then to make my head be cut off upon the Tomb they had built in Artaxata to the memory of Artibasus, within four or five days, upon the very day (as it fell out) of the King his Father's death; I received this news without trouble, being already prepared for it, and I resigned myself as I had always done before, to the will of the all-just, and all puissant Gods; I detain you with things of small importance, and it is necessary that I should abridge this long discourse.  
I had no more than two days remaining of the time they had prescribed to my life, and it was about the middle of a night which I passed with an interrupted sleep, as you may imagine, that I was roused out of my slumber by a noise, and a great light that appeared upon a sudden in my chamber: by great fortune I had not made myself unready, but being in my clothes upon the bed, I leapt off as they entered into the Chamber: the first persons that I saw appear were the Keeper that borough me the Letters, and one of his companions carrying each of them a light: after them came in Sarpedon their Commander who was put into Euriloohus his place, and after him (O Gods! I cannot call it to mind without transport) after him the Princess Artemisa herself attended only by Leucippe and another of her maids. At this unexpected sight I certainly believed that I was asleep, and saw but in a dream what was really presented to my eyes, I opened them as much as I could to convince them of their error, or to dissipate the mist which hindered me from perceiving the truth: But when I had called all my senses and my reason into consultation, I discovered my happiness, and believed that I saw Artemisa without illusion; my astonishment gave place to my joy, and being seized as much by that passion as I was by the other before, I threw myself at the Princess' feet embracing her knees with such an ardency as deprived me of the liberty of speech. The affection of Artemisa at this meeting seemed to be no less than mine, and though Sarpedon, my Servants, and some of the guard were present at her action, she made no difficulty before them whilst I was fixed at her knees, to throw her arms about me, and embrace me with all the marks of the greatest tenderness: the tears streamed from her eyes abundantly, and her countenance did every way express an uncommon passion: After she had been a while in this condition when she was recovered from the troubles which the sight of me, and her compassion had raised in her soul, after she had given me her hand to raise me up: Alexander said she, that which you have suffered, and the dangers to which you have been exposed for my sake cannot be recompensed either by the office I am about to do you, or the price of divers lives such as mine: I will not tell you then that the grief I had for you almost brought me to my grave, nor that I come hither to free you from this prison out of which by Artaxus' good will, you should never go but to your death: but in acknowledgement of your services I will offer you something more worthy of your acceptation, and will testify unto you by the most real proofs that you can desire, that possibly my affection is not inferior unto yours.  
She stopped at these words, and having put myself during her discourse into a condition to reply: Madam, said I, those sufferings, and those dangers which you esteem so highly are not worthy of the smallest effects of your goodness, and I thought to account them a thousand times more dear than my life, since 'tis by them— 'Tis enough, said the Princess interrupting me, and I am forced to break off your discourse, Time calls upon us to be gone: but in the first place Alexander, I will tell you before Sarpedon, to whom I am obliged for all I do in relation to your safety, before my Maids, and your Servants, that together with your liberty I will give you Artemisa, and that I am disposed absolutely to follow your Fortune as you are a Prince, whom before these Witnesses I here receive for my Husband: before Artaxus his cruelties I should have found a great resistance in myself against this action, and though I had born you never so much affection, I should never have received you for my husband without his permission: but now, that by his horrible actions, he hath effaced all the characters of respect and friendship that were due to him from me, and that he hath reduced me to such terms, as that I cannot live with him but as with a monster, or a savage beast, I will make no difficulty to abandon him to follow you upon the confidence I have in your love and virtue, nor to espouse you when we shall arrive at Augustus his Court, or at any other place where you shall make your retreat.  
If the sight of Artemisa, if her former words had filled me with astonishment and joy, judge you Cleomedon, to what a height of both I was raised by this discourse, and passing in one moment from a prison, and the expectation of a cruel death, not only to liberty but to the possession of Artemisa herself, which I preferred before a thousand liberties, and a thousand lives, in what manner I could receive this strange alteration of my condition: Truly it would be as hard for me to represent it to you, as it was then to express it to Artemisa, and I will content myself to tell you, that being full of confusion and transport, I threw myself the second time at the Princess' feet, so amazed at the excess of my good fortune, that I could give no intelligence of my thoughts, but by my countenance.  
After I had continued a while in this condition, fixing my mouth upon one of her fair hands, which I held betwixt mine: Madam, said I, you have put me into such a condition as is impossible for me to express, and the fortune which you offer me, is so far above those hopes I might reasonably conceive, that I cannot receive it without trouble and confusion: yet from thence I received this so little deserved favour, and since it pleases you out of an excess of your divine bounty, to advance me to a quality whereof I am so unworthy, I protest before the same persons whom you call as witnesses of my fortune, that I will submit myself all my life long to your will with an absolute obedience, and that I shall be ambitious of the honour to wait upon you, and conduct you to those places where possibly you shall have no cause to regret the loss of any thing that you leave in Armenia: I shall never regret any thing, replied Artemisa, so long as I have a part in you, and in your company (from whom I hope all manner of fidelity and discretion) I shall never be unhappy: but let us remit these mutual assurances till another time, and let us be gone from hence without any farther delay, our stay may yet ruin all, and I shall be in no quiet, till we be better assured of our liberty.  
With these words, not expecting a reply, she gave me her hand, and causing those to march before that carried the lights, she guided me herself, being conducted by Sarpedon, down a little pair of stairs, which till then were unknown to me, into the street, where we put out our lights, and there about fifty paces from the Gate, we found a Chariot with six good horses, and those that were needful for Sarpedon, my servants, and the two Keepers that followed us, and seven or eight horsemen besides, being the Princess' most faithful Officers attending upon the Chariot.  
She made me enter presently with her two maids and Sarpedon, and the rest being mounted on horseback, we set forwards, and marching with great speed under the conduct of one of the Princess' men, who was very well acquainted with the way we were to go. We left Artaxata behind us in a very small time, and when we saw ourselves in the open fields, we made away with all the speed our horses could; At the break of day we came to a passage of the River Araxes, where we had boats attended us, and when we had passed the River, we broke the boats in a thousand pieces to deprive our enemies of the means to pursue us. About half a days journey farther, we found fresh horses which had been sent thither before, and those we made use of instead of our own, which were already tired with the great haste we had made.  
We marched on still a great pace the rest of that day, and all the next on the way to Cilicia; for we would not take the way to Rome, supposing they would pursue us that way, and besides we had intelligence that Augustus and all his ordinary Court was in Asia, with whom I hoped to find those persons that were nearest and dearest to me, next to Artemisa.  
But why do I amuse you any longer? We passed out of Armenia without any hindrance, and as we entered into Cilicia, we were informed that Augustus was then, or was to be shortly at Alexandria: This was the most convenient way we could go, and this way we took, having informed ourselves of all passages, and expecting in that place the best retreat we could desire.  
I will not repeat to you the conversations, full of sweetness, that I had with the Princess during our Voyage: 'Twas from her that I understood the means wherewith she had served herself for my deliverance, and from her I knew, that having gained Sarpedon by her caresses, by her presents, and the inclinations he had to virtue, she disposed him to set me at liberty, and to follow her fortune and mine throughout the World, and that to this end, having drawn Theogenes his companion into a house without the City, he made him be detained prisoner there by some Soldiers that were at his dispose, and returning into the City, about the beginning of the night, he placed all his guards, except those that were privy to his intentions, upon the stairs of the great Gate of the prison, with order to attend there upon pain of death till his return, and by this means he had the passage as free for us as we could desire.  
I thanked Sarpedon, as I was obliged to do, and promised him that I would never give him occasion to repent himself of the good office he had done me. Sarpedon, who really is a person of honour, expressed himself much satisfied in serving me, and not only he, but the Princess' servants, and the Keepers that followed us, seemed to be wonderfully affectionated to our interests. The Princess carried with her all her most precious Jewels, and of them she gave presents every day to these People to oblige them to us with the greater fidelity.  
In the mean while, after we were out of Artaxus his Dominions, we braved his cruelty, and being moved by the just resentments I had against him, I added to my felicity the contentment I had of having done him a signal displeasure, in carrying away the Princess his Sister; yet I was not so satisfied with it, but that I still retained a desire to be revenged one day upon him for his inhumanities', and by that means, the affections which the Princess his Sister had for him, were so alienated, that I had no fear to displease her by the hatred I had for her Brother; O Gods! what sweetness did I taste of in her company during this Voyage? and though I always behaved myself towards her with the severest modesty, a thousand virtuous Proofs that I received of her affection every moment, made me bless an hundred times a day the pains and dangers by which I was made capable of arriving to this supreme felicity.  
In fine, after a long Voyage, which was not crossed by any disastrous accident, we arrived in this Country, where we were presently informed that Augustus was not yet come to Alexandria, but that he was expected, and would be there within a few days; Artemisa having no desire to make herself known, nor to show herself but as little as was possible, till she came into the presence of Caesar, and of my friends to whom she should declare herself, Tydeus, one of my Squires, to whom this house belongs, offered it to us, and prayed us to retire thither, which we did, finding a great convenience in the situation of the place which is very good, and in the nearness of the City where we may better provide ourselves necessaries than herew hilst we wait for Caesar's arrival without being seen but by few persons.   

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA: OR, Love's Masterpiece. PART IU.  
LIB. III.  
ARGUMENT.  
Whilst Alexander relates his History to Caesario, Artemisa walks to take the air; She spies a Knight richly armed under a Tree, who at first glance mistakes her for one Delia his Mistress; but perceiving his error, his grief throws him into an Ecstasy, from which, by the assistance of Artemisa and her Servants, he is recovered; and to gratify his generous pity, at her desire he acquaints her with the passages of his life and love. He speaks himself to be Philadelph, Son to the King of Cilicia. He is designed by his Father to match with the Princess Urania, Daughter to the King of Cappadocia, whose Queen Dowager he had lately married. But one day weary of Hunting, and having lost all his company, whilst be seeks the solace of a shady Grove, he finds a most beautiful Virgin a sleep; he is infinitely taken with her delicate sleep and feature, stoops down to kiss her, and she awakes. He excuses his incivility, she retorts a short, but civil answer, and immediately retreats out of his sight. This short interview renders him Captive to that unknown Beauty. At last he finds out her habitation, often visits her, discovers his quality, and addresses his Love-suit, with protestations of a pure and virtuous intention. She receives them respectfully, but coldly, and persists in that manner with an inflexible resolution. His Father sends for him to Court, and upbraids his long absence. He prevails with his Sister the Princess Andromeda, under colour of divertisement to visit his Mistress, who calls herself Delia, and to solicit his Suit to her. She brings Delia to Court, under the notion of her Servant. Philadelph continues his amorous addresses, and Delia her former coldness. The King presses Philadelph to marry Urania. He pretends to court her, but so faintly, that the Princess perceives and slights it. He confesses his prae-ingagement, and she promises secrecy. The Court takes notice of his passion for Delia. The Queen complains of the dishonour done to her daughter Urania. The King resolves to make use of all means to reduce Philadelph to his duty.  
Whilst Alexander related, in this manner, his adventures to Caesario, and that Prince being interessed in his Narration, both by the proximity of blood, and the esteem he had of his person, was moved with passion at the most remarkable passages of it, as much as the pre●●ing memory of his own misfortunes could permit him: the fair Artemisa, who out of a rational modesty would not be present at this relation, walked abroad attended upon by her two maids, and leaning upon the arms of Sarpedan and Tideus who showed her the beauties of his house.  
From a very curious Garden, finely kept, he caused her to pass into a wood of high trees that was near at hand, and the Princess finding there very fair Allies she walked out divers furlongs from the house; she entertained herself at that time with Sarpedon to whom she was obliged for the life of her dear Alexander, and with Leucippe the faithful confident of her most secret thoughts, about the strange events and terrible dangers from which her beloved Prince was escaped, and seeing herself almost in the Haven after the horrible Tempest which the cruelty of Artaxus had raised, 'twas a pleasure to her to call to mind the cruel crosses to which her love had exposed her; and if she trembled still at this remembrance, the fear of the evils past was accompanied with so much satisfaction in her present condition, that instead of moderating her contentments it mightily contributed to them, according to that infallible decree which never bestows such perfect blessings upon us, as when they have been preceded by evils which were capable to make us sensible of them.  
She did not so much as once reflect upon the loss of those Crowns which were once in the possession of her Alexander's family, and though fortune had left a less estate, and an inferior degree of grandeur than what remained in the family of Anthony, yet she found more in Alexander's person wherewithal to satisfy her ambition, than in the possession of all the Empires in the world: She declared as much to Sarpedon and Leucippe, and in this discourse having walked with them through part of the wood, Tideus desired to show her a pretty spring which issuing from between some points of a rock made up a little brook, whose clear and pleasant waters ran with many windings, through divers parts of the wood, and afterwards being enlarged by the addition of some little Fountains, took their journey towards the Sea.  
The Princess at Tideus his request directed her steps that way, and she was already come near enough to behold the beauties of the Spring, when she perceived upon the brink of it a man lying all along upon the ground, who leaning upon his elbow, and sustaining his head with one of his hands, had his face turned towards the Fountain: He was clad in black Armour, but it was enriched in some places with Jewels, stones of great value, to which the fable colour added a greater lustre: that which appeared of his Casque, as well at the extremities of his Cuirass, as above his Vantbrace, was likewise all black, covered with a very fair embroidery of Silver, but worn and spoiled in some places by the negligence of him that beware it, and his head piece being of the same materials with the rest of his armour, and shaded with a great plume of black feathers, hung upon a branch of the tree under which its Master lay.  
The Princess in that condition of her fortune fearing all manner of rencounters, stopped at this sight, and would have gone back immediately, if her ears had not been sensible of some complaints that proceeded from the mouth of the Unknown, which made her believe that he might have need of their assistance: besides, the gallantry of his Armour in which she presently perceived the precious stones, persuaded her that the wearer was no common person, and seeing herself fortified by the presence of Sarpedon, and Tideus, and her two maids, she thought in this company she need not fear the meeting of a single man: having re-assumed herself she advanced a few steps nearer to the Fountain, and being moved with a curiosity natural to her sex, before she went near, she stayed behind some tree, and some points of rock which environed it to give attention to his complaints.  
It was not difficult for her to satisfy herself in that manner; for besides that the man had his face turned towards the fountain, he was so profoundly buried in the cogitations which possessed him at that time, that he would not have been put out of them by a greater noise than the Princess made in approaching to the place where he was: the passion which tormented him being violent might have produced stranger effects than to make him complain, and talk to himself, in a place where he believed that no person heard him and they that are sick of a disease like to his do not consult their reason in all the actions of their life.  
A throng of sighs accompanied all the words that came out of his mouth, and sometimes addressing himself to the Gods, sometimes to his fortune, and sometimes to things insensible and innocent of his displeasures, he made those that heard him understand that never was any soul more powerfully prepossessed than his. Will ye be, said he, will ye be of an eternal continuance, ye misfortunes under whom I have groaned so long? and is not my fortune weary of tormenting me after she hath made me suffer miseries able to ruin any other courage than mine, and to satiate any other cruelty than hers? Where shall I seek henceforth that which the envious earth conceals from me with so much inhumanity; and who will open me the way either to Heaven, or to the infernal shades, where possibly my Delia is detained from me?  
He stopped a little while upon this consideration, but perplexing himself with it the more, Ah! without doubt, said he, the Gods being jealous of the glory of men, would not any longer leave amongst them the most excellent thing they ever gave them and that approaches nearest to their divine nature, and if my incomparable Delia were still in the world, nothing could keep her from my indefatigable pains, and the search of an afflicted lover, who for her sake visits all the corners of the earth that his fortune can carry him to: possibly this inhuman destiny to make me lose that which I received from it, hath exercised the utmost effects of its cruelty against her and finished, in those places whither she vainly fled from its former anger, that, which without pity it had already begun: but if this be thy thought, added he with an higher tone, and that thou canst imagine that which thou lovest to be no longer in the world; Base, base lover, what consideration can induce thee to endure the society of men, and what sweetness canst thou find in a life which without Delia can afford thee no other company but darkness, horror, and despair? That beauty, whereunto thou rendrest up thy arms without resistance, and to which thou hast dedicated thy best days, doth well deserve an entire life, and all the moments thou canst conserve of it after the loss of her's aught to be accounted by thee as ages of torments and punishments.  
The sighs and sobs that accompanied the complaint of this afflicted Lover broke off the progress of it, and the fair Princess, who harkened attentively unto it, felt some motions of compassion which already strongly interessed her in his displeasure, and caused her to advance towards him to give him some consolation: but as the cruel inquietudes which tormented his soul, did scarcely suffer his body to continue long in the same posture, after he had tumbled about some while upon the grass, he turned himself towards them that harkened to him, and though he was buried in his profound cogitations, he discovered the Princess; all the preoccupation of his soul could not hinder the suspicion which this sight raised in him, the lustre of Artemisa's beauties moved him so at the first sight, that he seemed to be dazzled at them, and having his mind quite filled with the Ideas of his Delia, some similitude of Artemisa's beauties with hers immediately seized his imagination. He raised himself up with transport, and ran like a person amazed to throw himself at the feet of the Princess.  
Artemisa was much astonished when she saw and felt her knees embraced by this unknown, and she was yet more amazed when that after he had embraced her a while with the most passionate transportations: Delia, said he to her, my adorable Delia, is it possible that the Gods restore you to me when I least hoped for it is a Phantasm, is it an Illusion that appears before mine eyes, or have I really found my Delia? Artemisa by these words perceived the error of the Unknown, and her astonishment giving place to pity, after she had made some attempts with a great deal of sweetness to disengage herself from between his arms which were still fast about her legs; I would with all my heart, said she, that instead of a person whom you know not, you had really found that Delia which you seek, I know not whether my visage hath any resemblance with hers, but I can certainly assure you that neither her name nor person are known to me.  
The Unknown beginning to acknowledge his error by the tone of her voice, lifted up his eyes to Artemisa's face, and notwithstanding the resemblance it might have to Delia's, finding some differences which in his former surprise he had not discerned, he perceived his mistake: but he perceived it with such a grief as he was not able to support, and lifting his eyes to heaven in a pitiful manner: O Gods, said he with a feeble voice, O fortune will you eternally make yourselves sport with this miserable wretch? He hardly uttered these words, and from the posture wherein he was, letting himself fall to the ground, his face became pale, his eyes closed up, and he continued senseless at Artemisa's feet.  
At this sight pity took full possession of the Princess' soul, and sitting down by the Unknown, to give him assistance, she herself threw upon his face divers times the water which Tideus and Leucippe brought her from the fountain, the Unkown continued a great while before he recovered his spirits, and in the interim, those that employed themselves in his succour, had the leisure to consider him, and they viewed him with a very particular attention.  
Through the mortal paleness which had overspread his countenance, they perceived as gallant a Mine as ever their eyes had beheld, all the lineaments of it were form with a complete and just proportion, and when his eyes were freed from those dark clouds, wherewith at present they were enveloped with a sweetness that was natural to them, they breathed something noble and great enough to imprint respect in the beholders, his hair that was long, and neglected by reason of his afflictions, which took from him all cares of small importance, did admirably well become his visage, and he was of the tallest, straightest, cleanest making that can be imagined; his age seemed to be about two or three and twenty, but they perceived well that his complexion, which was naturally very fresh, had received great changes by his toils and troubles.  
After that he had been some while in the hands of those that succoured him, & that the Princess making a comparison between this rancounter, and that she had a few days before with Caesario, officiously interessed herself on his behalf; he came again to himself, and turning his eyes round about him, he perceived, together with the truth which was past, the obligation he had to that fair person, which a few moments before he had taken for Delia.  
If upon the first Idea he form to himself of her, he had her in veneration, at the second view he conceived no less respect for her, and after he had beheld her a while with an attention which confirmed him in all the thoughts he might have of her, raising himself out of the posture wherein he was, to accost her in another less unhandsome: I know not, said he, but you may be a Divinity descended from Heaven to my assistance; in regard of the first error whereinto I am fallen concerning you, I am afraid to commit new faults, and those beauties that dazzled me at the first sight, have more conformity with the heavenly beauties than those of mortal persons. This Beauty, replied Artemisa modestly, is too mean to express any more than its own nature, and 'tis the resemblance it may have to that of the person you love, which causes you to judge so advantageously of it. 'Tis true, replied the Unknown, that I have seen some features in your face, which in a soul totally possessed with the memory of Delia, immediately brought back her whole Idea, and certainly the resemblance is not so small, but that in a troubled imagination as mine is, it might very well produce these effects: 'tis that which made me commit a fault which possibly hath created you some trouble, and put me into a condition of having need of those assistances which you have tendered me with so much goodness; out of the acknowledgement I owe you, I would present you with this life, in the preservation whereof you have so officiously employed yourself, if it were not too unhappy to be offered to your service, and he that should offer it too unfortunate to hope from heaven any occasion of expressing his acknowledgement to you.  
The Unknown uttered these words with such a grace, that Artemisa was extraordinarily taken with them, and desiring to answer his civilities according to the esteem she had already conceived of him: The assistance I have rendered you, said she, is due to all men, and particularly to those who carry in their faces the marks that appear in yours: but if you believe that I have an obligation upon that account, which permits me to require any recompense of you, I would only desire of you, that you would use some moderation in that excessive grief which we have observed in your discourse and actions, and take some pains to search out in your own courage, and the examples of those who are more unfortunate than yourself, the consolation that is necessary for you: Alas, replied the Unknown, with a sigh, alas! how just is this grief that is the cause of my death, and how difficult will it be to banish it out of a soul over which it hath possessed itself of a most lawful Empire? I do not require that attempt from you, replied the Princess, and the cause of it may be such as it might be difficult for you to make an absolute conquest of it; but yet your reason may furnish you with remedies to sweeten it, and if you be not afflicted by some loss wherein all hopes are extinguished, you may expect favourable changes in your condition with more likelihood possibly, than divers persons, whom I myself have seen raised up contrary to their expectation, from the uttermost extremities of misfortune, to their highest selicity: Examples of that kind are not so rare but that you may set a good number of them before your eyes, and by all likely conjectures, I believe you have courage enough to serve yourself successfully with them, if you will employ you self about it. I am too much obliged, replied the Stranger, to the judgement you make of me by marks not altogether infallible: but though the Gods had given me the courage to enterprise the highest difficulties, I have had so much occasion to employ it in the crosses, which my bad fortune hath raised me, that in the miseries wherein I am now engulph●d, I receive but small assistance from it: 'tis not because my last hopes have abandoned me, nor that I am assured of a loss, after which all humane considerations would not be able to preserve my life one moment: It may be my good Fortune may be still in the hands of the Gods, but after so much unprofitable pains as I have taken, I have so little likelihood to hope it from them, that I have no rational ground to do it.  
'Tis a difficult thing, added the Princess, to see a man in your garb in so great an affliction without taking a great share with him, or without desiring a more perfect knowledge of a person, concerning whom our first sight and this first discourse hath given us very advantageous impressions, I should not dare to express my curiosity any farther, but I can really assure you, that it is less upon that account, than out of a desire of comforting you in your displeasures, if it be possible for us, that I desire this knowledge.  
The Unknown, at these words, held his eyes a while fixed upon the ground, and afterwards raising them up to Artemisa's face: Since my misfortunes have made me, said he, I have not declared them to any person, and besides that, the secrecy of them hath been of importance to me in many places where I have passed. 'Tis somewhat sensible to me to recall to mind by this discourselthe cause of my displeasures: but a person so unordinary as you, may expect extraordinary differences from me, and besides the obedience which those divine beauties may hope for from the most savage souls; I know too well what I owe to your generous goodness, which you have expressed both in the consolation, and the assistance you have given me, to avoid or neglect any occasion of complying with your desires. I will acquaint you without dissimulation, both with my name and birth, but the relation of my adventures, if you desire it should be any thing large, it may possibly be of too tedious a length for you, and I fear I shall put you to some inconvenience, by detaining you here with a discourse in which you are not certain to find any divertisement. Without doubt, I abuse your patience, replied Artemisa, in exacting this of you; but you may pardon it, if you please, upon the account of the interest I take already in your fortune, and if this place be inconvenient for the relation I desire of you, there is a house hard by at your service, where you may repose yourself as long as you please, and possibly find some consolation to your sorrows in very agreeable company.  
The Unknown humbly thanked the Princess for this offer, and after some words of obliging contestation: The condition wherein I am, said he, doth not permit me to receive the favour you do me, & I can neither stay nor take any repose in the most agreeable companies in the world, though such as you offer me, so long as I am possessed with these tormenting cares, but since you desire to understand the Fortunes of this miserable person, if you please I will satisfy your expectation here in this place.  
The Princess having accepted his offer, the Unknown after he had called his two Squires which looked to his horses hard by, and given some orders to one of them, came back and sat down by her upon the brim of the Fountain. Sarpedon, Leucippe and Tideus did the same some paces from them, by Artemisa's order, who prayed the Unknown to give leave that they might be present at his Narration; and a little after the Stranger having mused a while upon the discourse he was to make, he began in this manner.  

The HISTORY of PHILADELPH.  
I Would tell you, Madam, that by the relation which you desire of me, and whereunto I dispose myself without repugnance, in obedience to a person for whom I feel so extraordinary a respect, you go about to revive my resentments, if I could not say with greater truth, that nothing is capable to assuage them, and that of all the moments of my life there is not one wherein they are not present to my memory; neither my long travels, nor those accidents which possibly would have produced this effect in a soul less prepossessed, were ever able to do it, and I shall infallibly cease to live, when I shall part with a remembrance which entirely possesses me, and whereunto all my thoughts are chained by an eternal obligation.  
Tarchoudemus King of Cilicia, well known for his puissance, and the amity and alliances he had with Anthony as long as he lived, is he that sent me into the world, and not having any other children living by the Queen my Mother, but the Princess Andromeda my Sister and myself, I am now the lawful and sole heir of his Grown: This reason hath obliged him to cause me to be brought up with such great care, that never possibly had any Prince greater advantages in his education than I, nor more means to second good inclinations, if I received any from nature: my first years, whereof I might tell you the employments, were it not for troubling you, were spent for the exercises of the mind and body whereunto my youth was form, and when the King my Father thought that I had made a passable progress in them to frame myself to a greater perfection, to renew the alliances he had made with Augustus after his coming to the Empire, he was about to send me to Rome, to spend some years there with divers young Princes which were brought up there, and to refine me from the barbarism of our own Provinces, but he was diverted from this design by a report of a War, wherein he found himself strongly interessed.  
Artaxus, the young King of Armenia, inheriting the hatred which had along time been between his Family and the Kings of the Medes, made war against Tygranes newly come to the Crown, and conserving the same resentments against him, as he had done against his Father, (by whose solicitations, as they say, the Queen Cleopatra was obliged to put Artibasus to death) he began to enter his Dominions, and to ruin all that came in his way with a great deal of cruelty. Tygranes is the King, my Father's Sister Son, and besides this proximity, there hath always been so straight an alliance between our Families, that in the affairs that have happened to either, there was never known a separation of interests: After two years of the War which passed so equally, that Tygranes had no need of our assistance, in the third, fortune began to be contrary to him, and having reduced him to the necessity of our succour, the King my Father went to aid the King his Nephew in person, I attended my Father, and in this War I served my first Apprenticeship in Arms: There were many Battles fought, and many memorable Rencounters passed, wherein I had the happiness to give good hopes of my future progress by my beginnings, and success did so accompany our arms, that we chased Artaxus out of Media, and got very considerable advantages upon the frontier. Artaxus being extraordinarily exasperated, and of an inclination naturally very cruel, wasted all he could, without pity, with fire and sword, and more fully to express his humour, two Princes of the greatest proximity to our Family; being by fortune fallen into his hands, without any regard either to their birth, or to humanity itself, he cruelly put them to death, and sent their heads to Tygranes.  
By this cruelty the King my Father was so inflamed with choler against the King of Armenia, that he solemnly swore to be revenged, and in all that passed afterwards he endeavoured to execute it without any consideration. At last the weakness of either side did somewa●a●swage their fury, and when they were almost in a condition not to make War any longer, Angustus having solicited them to peace, and having interposed his authority to their allegations, obliged them to a treaty, which made them both retire, but could not banish the resettlments which remained for things past.  
When we were upon our return to Tharsus, the King, who some years before had buried the Queen my Mother, married the Widow of the deceased King of Cappadocia, and Mother to Archelaus now reigning in that Kingdom, our Neighbour and Ally, and had a design to marry me to the Princess Uranina her daughter, whom the Queen her Mother had brought with her into Cilicia; she was a Princess beautiful enough to create love in any soul that not been possessed before, and I doubt not but that my affections would have inclined that way, if things that befell me afterwards had not overthrown all the dispositions I could have to it, and given my soul far different employments from those it firmly had. 'Tis time, Madam, that I enter upon that discourse; and I will not enlarge myself any farther in the relation of things of so small consequence, whereof in respect of things of greater importance, I had hardly preserved any remembrance.  
In this time of repose and tranquillity of spirit, wherein I then was, I employed myself in all corporal exercises, and particularly in hunting, whereunto I had a very great inclination: being retired upon this design for some days with the equipage which served me for this divertisement, to one of the King's houses which is a days journey from Tharsus, and some furlongs from the Sea; I took great pleasure in making War with the Beasts, and as soon as the Sun began to display his Beams upon the Earth, I went into the fields, and passed the whole day in pursuit either of a fearful Hart, or a furious Boar, or of some other creature. In this innocent kind of life I passed my days, without any other inquietude than what sometimes the bad success of my hunting might make me sensible of, and my soul was not agitated with any care that might disturb its tranquillity: but fortune did not leave me long in this condition, and the will of the Gods was, that I should receive a great alteration when I was least prepared for it.  
One day, ah! how many tears hath that day cost mine eyes, and how many torments hath it brought upon my heart? ah! how fatal hath that day been to those that followed it? and yet how dear is that day still to my memory, though so cruel, and contrary to the repose of my life? One day, I say, whereof I had passed the greatest part in the pursuit of a Boar, being separated from all my followers, and having lost my way in a wood of great extent, after I had ridden up and down the Forest a while in vain, I felt myself more weary than ordinary, and incommodated by the violent heat, and an extreme thirstiness: To ease myself of both, I sought, by-paths unknown to me, for a little brook which I had seen divers times in the wood, and when I was come thither I alighted, and having tied my horse to a Tree, I first quenched my thirst, and when I walked gently along the Brook side, to find out a place free from the beams of the Sun, that I might repose myself for an hour. I had gone but a little way in this intention, but I found the most convenient place I could desire to that purpose, both in regard of the shade it received from some thick Trees, and of the green and pleasant grass that covered the bank of the Rivulet; I chose out my place by the eye, and went forward to take it, but I saw it possessed by a person who had gotten thither before me: I believed at first that it was one of my hunters, and upon that belief, being come near enough to discern the truth, I perceived it was a woman clad in plain clothes, such as Country-women were in those parts. This accident did not at all displease me, and out of a curiosity conformable to my age, and the condition of life I then lived; I went nearer to view her upon that side whereunto she had turned her face. 'Twas my destiny that guided me thither, and I was fatally conducted to that sight that should blot out of my soul all that I had seen before.  
I no sooner discovered some part of her face, but I felt myself extraordinarily troubled, and I had presages of this adventure which made me know of what importance it ought to be to my life: but I had no sooner seen all that could appear to my eyes in the posture she was, but there issued a brightness thence which absolutely dazzled my sight. Yet her glories were for the most part covered, and her eyes being closed by a profound sleep, could not dart out those beauteous rays which at other times proceeded thence as from their original; but without their help the rest of her beauties were capable to raise attention into admiration, and admiration into the primitive motions of a violent passion.  
This fair, or rather this Divine person, was carelessly laid along upon the bank, and the earth which sustained this beautiful body, seemed to produce new grass to receive her the more agreeably. Her head leaned upon one of her arms, and the other was stretched out towards the rivulet, whose clear waters she touched with the tops of her fingers; but in this action, her sleeve being favourably tucked up, gave me liberty to behold as high as the elbow the whiteness and shape of an arm which might eclipse all manner of beauties, if it had not been equalised by her neck, which appeared half naked to my eyes by the help of a little wind that jealously blew aside the linen that covered it, and from thence passing over her cheeks amorously sported itself with her fair hair which fell upon them; her mouth her complexion, and all the parts of her face might not only out brave envy in regard of their absolute perfection, but inspire a kind of Idolatry, and some opinion of divinity in those that beheld them; and in fine, every thing in this admirable person seemed to me so far above all that is mortal, that at first sight I was stricken with such a respect and veneration for her, as we do not use to have for creatures; I stood and viewed her a while with such exceeding earnestness, that all the objects in the world would not have been capable to divert me from it, and running over with my eyes amazedly the marvels that fortune presented to them, I continued so confounded and astonished, that I had hardly any remembrance left of what was past, or any knowledge of myself remaining.  
What rancounter, said I, doth my fortune cause me to make to day? and what divinity doth she present to my eyes under a mortal figure? Can it be possible that the Gods should have placed in woman these admirable beauties, which thus dazzle my eyes? or can it be possible that the Goddesses should come and seek both shade and sleep in our woods? In this uncertainty I beheld her with such an attention as entirely took up my soul, and through my eyes I insensibly drew to my heart the poison which began to surprise it, and did unperceiveably spread itself through a spirit where it found all manner of dispositions to receive it: It produced its effects without any opposition on my part, and without any foresight of the evils I ought to resent upon that account, I suffered my soul to be engaged without endeavouring to defend its liberty.  
If we must love beauty, said I, we shall never find it in a more perfect figure, and if the senses have any power to persuade reason, nothing in the world can be more worthy of our love: but possibly, added I by way of reprehension to myself, that which sleep hides from our knowledge, is very different from what it discovers, these eyes, which the eyelids cover from us, are it may be as full of cruelty as the rest of the countenance is of sweetness, and the mind whose beauties as well as those of the body ought to contribute to the birth of a rational affection is possibly as defective as the body appears accomplished. I no sooner had this thought but I repented myself of it, and out of the defence I already had for this admirable person, I sorrowfully desired pardon of her for the offence I had done her; nevertheless I burned with a desire of being more ampty satisfied: but I was afraid to disturb a repose which already began to be very dear to me; and I accused that importunate sleep which rob me of so many treasures without having the boldness to interrupt it.  
Yet I ventured to content my desires in part, and after I had considered upon it a few moments longer, I approached her with a very ill-assumed pace, and putting one knee to the ground before this Divine beauty, I viewed over at the nearest distance I could, those wonders which had struck me with astonishment farther off, and they appeared to me either really, or by reason of the impression they had already made upon my soul, in a more advantageous condition than they had done before, and after I had viewed them over a while with a new amazement, not being able to retain a thousand sighs which my growing passion drew from my breast. Ah miraculous beauty, said I, with a loud voice, what must thy powers needs be when thou dost employ them all entire, when as by this small part of them thou dost totally deprive my soul of liberty? by this sweet repase, which entombs thy cares, thou givest birth to mine, and by this fatal sleep, to which without doubt I owe the sight of thee, thou dost establish my watchings, and overturn the tranquillity of my days.  
As I spoke these words the violence of my desires and the convenience I had to content them would have persuaded me to take a kiss from a mouth that had the tincture of the purest Carnation in the world: but I resisted them out of a respect which grew together with my love, and though I was in a place where my birth gave me some particular authority, the consideration or rather the veneration I had at the very first for this admirable person, re-presented to me in that I could not abuse its relation to her without offending myself: yet it could not hinder me from giving myself a more pardovable liberty, and after I had farther admired the fair hand which hung down into the brook, I raised it up with one of mine and fixed my mouth upon it with an action entirely passionate.  
A touch so pressing disturbed the repose of the fair Sleeper, and she awaking with a start no sooner opened her eyes but she pierced my soul with a thousand rays. Ah! with how much injustice did I distrust their beauty, and how did those flames which they darted at me presently discover it to me by powerful marks? they were but too fair and too penetrative not to perfect my submission, and my eyes not being able to support her first looks, I hastily retired a few steps either out of weakness, or fear of being surprised in an action which my respect began to condemn.  
This Divine person having cast her eyes at her awaking upon all the nearest objects, and seeing a man alone with her in that solitary place, she was so much troubled that her countenance received divers different changes in a few moments: her fear, which I instantly took notice of, caused a very sensible displeasure in me, and seeing that she rose hastily, I ran before her, and kneeling upon one knee in her presence, as well to put her out of fear by this action of respect, as to follow my own inclinations which carried me to thoughts of adoration towards her: Heavenly beauty said I, whether you be descended from Heaven, or are born amongst men, do not fly, nor fear: If you be a Goddess my intentions are known to you, and if you be a mortal person, you may expect from me the same respects and the same adorations as if you were a Goddess: the destiny which conducted my steps hither brought me to my own loss and not to your damage, and if it be permitted to one of us two, 'tis I only that aught to fear, and 'tis I that ought to fly from before you.  
By my action and by my words the fair Lady was somewhat re-assured, and having partly dissipated the astonishment which had seized upon her: I am no longer afraid, said she, in regard of the opinion I have of your virtue, and I believe that this little beauty which you esteem without reason, in stead of an enemy will find you a defender; and it is not fear that makes me go from you, but decency which doth not permit me to stay alone with a man in such a place as this.  
With these words, after she had given me a look which had nothing of an enemy in it, and yet gave me deeper wounds than my most cruel enemies could have done; she turned her back and fled between the trees with an admirable swiftness. I could possibly have run after her as fast, but the fear I had to alarm her by my pursuit, and to put her into greater fears than she was in before, made me continue in my place quite confounded and amazed, following her only with mine eyes, and observing as much as I could possibly the way whereby she retired.  
She no sooner disappeared from my eyes, but accompanying her with some sighs, and seeking her in thought in those places where she concealed herself from me: Thou fliest from me, divine beauty, cried I, and after thou hast given me a mertal wound, thou abandonest me to my fortune without thinking of my cure: thou carriest away from me the most precious thing I had, and for all thou takest from me thou leavest me nothing but thy image engraved in the very bottom of my soul: but thou fliest in vain, the thickest darkness cannot deprive my sight of such brightnesses as thine, and my heart which follows thy steps with a sweetness equal to thine, will find thee without doubt in what place soever thou wouldst hide thyself.  
After these words I turned towards the side of the brook, and beheld with some Idolatry the place she had quitted. The fair Idea which she left me began then to assault me with invincible forces, and sleep for whose sake I had fatally addressed my steps to this place presented itself to my eyes no more: those admirable beauties which had made so powerful an impression upon my soul, were always present in my memory, and the tone of the voice which had so agreeably accompanied what my eyes had discovered, did seem still to resound something of sweetness in mine ears. O Gods! how was my spirit agitated in these beginnings of my love, and what commotions did I feel, till then unknown to me, arise in my soul whereupon love as yet had made but light impressions.  
At first I was much amazed at this adventure, and a little after insensibly freeing myself from the trouble whereunto it had put me, I reflected upon what had appeared to my eyes, and disappeared again like a flash of lightning, against which all my strength was weakness, and the resistance I made very small: In fine whether it were that this Celestial beauty was able to produce this effect with so much promptitude, or that the dispositions of my soul were all ready to receive this passion, or that destiny acted in this engagement of my soul, but I began really to love without knowing what I loved, and without being able to make any other judgement upon it, but that what I began to love was the most fair and amiable thing in the world.  
I was engaged in this meditation, upon which without doubt I should have bestowed the rest of the day, when my hunters who had sought me a great while, arrived at the place where I was, and obliged me by their troubling my agreeable musing, to remount my horse, and to quit this fatal place where I had lost my repose and my liberty: I departed thence with regret, but by this departure I did not change my condition, but carried along with me the poisoned arrow which kept my wounds open, and made it deeper still. All the night that succeeded this day this image kept me faithful company, and if by reason of my weariness and some watchings before, it did afford me some moments of sleep, yet did it not abandon me, no not in sleep itself, and it operated upon me with the same powers that it did when I was awake.  
I had some combat in mine own defence, and I would have fortified myself with reason, against those powers to which, as I thought, I rendered myself too easily, and I often represented to myself, that I ought not lightly to engage myself in this passion for a person unknown, and without doubt of a low and obscure condition: but these considerations which possibly would have wrought some effect upon another spirit, had no power upon mine, and after I had made all these reflections; That which thou allegest, said I, that which thou settest before my eyes, O my reason, is full of likelihood and truth, and this person for whom I have already so much weakness, is unknown; she is, according to appearance of a low birth; I cannot love her according to thy counsel, but I am forced to love her by a power which is above thine, and if I have no other assistance but thine, I shall love her maugre all the considerations thou canst oppose against me; if she be not of a Royal or noble blood, her beauty doth advantageously supply the defect of her birth, we have nothing in our condition more sublime, than the marks she bears in her countenance, and it is not upon birth that love is used to establish itself, let us love, my heart, that which hath appeared great enough to my eyes, to subject thee to her Empire, and giving up ourselves entirely to love, let us seek for no other persons but his.  
In this manner I abandoned myself to the sweet motions that drew me along, and without any longer description of the original of my love, I will content myself to tell you that I loved, and I had hardly begun to love but that I loved perfectly, than I sought the opportunities of seeing again that which I loved, and upon that design addressing my chase always that way where I had been taken myself, I passed divers times every day through the wood where I had this rancounter: but my search was but in vain, and this beauty appeared no more in those places where she believed she was imprudently engaged in some hazard: Alas! with what impatiences, with what inquietudes did I visit the most solitary places, and how many times suffering my reason to wander through the force of my passion, did I ask the brook for her which showed her me the first time, and how often did I address myself to all insensible objects to learn news of her? sometimes laying my eyes, my hands, and my mouth itself on the bank where she had left some sign of her figure; O sacred place, said I, which I have beheld replenished with glories, by the fair pledge which the Gods had committed to your charge; how have you lost it, and how can you still preserve any freshness, shade, or beauty, if these advantages which you have received from nature be not able once more to draw hither that which she renders you so dear and precious to my spirit? Ah! without doubt, continued I, 'tis I which have done you this ill office, and 'tis I alone that have banished from this agreeable place that which in vain I demand of you.  
I held divers other discourses which blindness caused me to utter, and being full of an amorous inquietude I left no place in all the neighbourhood but I traced it over a thousand times. In this research I was accompanied but with a few persons, and most commonly causing the rest to scatter from me, I kept with me only one of my Squires whom I loved particularly, and to whom I had discovered my thoughts: attended by him alone after I had sought up and down the wood in vain, and the places adjoining in the day time, I spent part of the night in entertaining myself with him about that which at that time possessed my imagination; and the Gods, which were moved to some compassion at my sorrows, were pleased for my comfort and satisfaction, that one evening having no body but my Squire with me, I turned my walk towards a solitary valley, which is some furlongs distant from the wood which I visited so often, and towards a side of it whither I had never addressed myself before. It was about two hours after Sunset, but the Moon shone very bright, & the weather was very fair and pleasant; I road softly along with Dion, and drew near some trees which grew in the form of an Alley, where I overheard the voice of some women who discoursed hard by us: I stood still to lend them the greater attention, and as my destiny would have it, at the first sound that reached my ears, I believed I heard the voice of the person I sought for, which in that little time she had talked to me remained as deeply engraven in my memory as if I had been acquainted with it all my life time: Ah Dion! said I quite transported, behold without doubt my divinity herself: and at the same time casting my eyes towards the Alley, I perceived, as well as the light of the Moon would give me leave, two women walking under those trees.  
Being quite ravished, or rather quite astonished at this rancounter, I leapt down from my horse, and leaving him in charge to Dion, whom I commanded to stay for me without coming on any farther, I crept along by the trees upon that side where I saw the two women as softly as possibly I could, because I would not fright them, nor give them time to slip out of my sight: but at that same time their walk was interrupted by some flashes of lightning which our eyes unexpectedly met with, and the noise of thunder which began to rumble over our heads: The timidity of their sex caused these persons to apprehend the change of the weather: and she, whom by the tone of her voice, I judged to be her to whom I had given my heart, taking up the discourse; Let us retire, said she, to the other accompanied her, for I am extremely afraid of thunder. After some claps more which redoubled their apprehension and hastened their retreat to an house which was at the end of this Alley, they took one another by the hand and went away a great pace: but I followed them at a great distance amongst the trees, and did not lose the sight of them till they entered the house, and presently the door was shut after them.  
If I was troubled at the losing of them so soon, I was much comforted by the knowledge I had gained of their retreat, and having confirmed myself in my belief, by the second hearing of this voice, I walked in this Alley with more hope, and satisfaction than I had for divers days before: I returned to the place where I had left Dion, and having imparted my happy rancounter to him: 'Tis very much for me, said I, to know the place where that I love is enclosed, but this doth not satisfy the impatience of my love, that would have me see her again, yea and see her again this very Evening; let us seek out some honest opportunity to do it if it be possible. It is no difficult matter for you, said Dion, and you have power enough in this place to command the doors open, and to enter at what hour you please: No Dion, replied I, this is not the way that I intent to act, I have already conceived a respect for the person I love, which will not permit me to serve myself with the privileges of my birth in relation to her: I would enter into the place where she is if it be possible without troubling or molesting her, and I should be very sorry to purchase my dearest contentments at the rate of the least of her displeasures.  
Whilst I was talking in this manner, the favour of Heaven concurring with my desires, after some more claps of thunder it began to rain, and the sky being covered with clouds the rain was very violent: Behold Sir, said Dion, the most favourable occasion you could desire, and if you were not what you are, you might desire shelter in that house against this storm. I approved of his opinion, and thanked the Gods for the extraordinary grace they did me: we approached near the gate, but though I was not born without courage, and in some occasions should have given testimonies of it, yet my love had rendered me so fearful, that I went upon this business as upon a very dangerous enterprise, and my passion had possessed me with so much weakness that I trembled at every blow of the knocker that Dion gave against the gate. They made some difficulty to open it at such an hour, and at last Dion was fain to tell them aloud, that it was the Prince Philadelph who desired shelter from the rain: that name which was not hated in Cilicia gave us free entrance, and having crossed the Court with some speed I went into a low Hall, where I found divers women that carve to meet me at the door.  
The Mistress of this house was a good widow woman, whose husband had been an Officer in the King my Father's house, and since her widow hood, she was retired to this private place to live there in tranquillity and repose; my face not being unknown to her, she received me with all the marks of respect and affection that could be, and it was out of the knowledge she had of my humour which was not inclined to give distaste, that she would not permit those persons that were with her to conceal themselves as they had an intention to have done at my arrival: after I had thanked her for her civilities, and the testimonies of her affection, I cast mine eyes with impatience upon those persons that were by her, and at the very first thought she kept at a distance, and partly covered her face with a vail, I knew her whom I fought for amongst three or four others, and I should have discerned her amongst ten thousand, and in the thickest darkness, by the marks I had of her in my heart: there proceeded a lustre from her face much more glorious than from the tapers which gave us light, and uniting itself to that which was already enkindled in my soul, it inflamed me in such a manner that my ardour could not be covered, and what care soever I should have taken, it was impossible for me to conceal my emotion; this fair person was also troubled at the sight of me, and by the Ideas which she might retain of my countenance, judging that I was the same man whom she had found in the wood, and that spoke some words to her full of passion, this unexpected rancounter surprised her with some astonishment.  
Though I saw it was impossible for me to dissemble what I felt, yet at least, I desired to conceal some part of it, making that pass for an unexpected adventure which proceeded from a premeditated design, and feigning that Chance only presented this fair Lady to my eyes, I made as if I were amazed, and in the condition I was than I had no trouble to accommodate my countenance to astonishment. O Gods! cried I, am not I the most deceived man in the world, or do I see that divine beauty which fortune showed me some days ago in the neighbouring wood, whose Image I have so dearly preserved in memory?  
At these words, this admirable person appeared more surprised than before: but desiring to drive away all fear that these two rencounters might produce, and to discover her at the same time what I had upon my heart, I drew near her with a respect and a submission, in which I felt nothing of constraint, and having beheld her a while with a countenance which declared part of my thoughts to her. Madam, said I, I drew you lately very indiscreetly from a place where you had sought your repose: but if I disturbed yours, I absolutely lost mine own, and I will make no difficulty to confess before the persons which hear us, that I left at your feet a liberty, which till that day I had preserved: I was bold enough to give you some knowledge of it at our parting, and I cannot restrain this impetuous motion, which forces me possibly against discretion, to open to you at first an heart which I have given you: these sentiments are rendered much more powerful in my soul by this second rancounter, and I believe that the Gods and the distinies, contribute to my engagement by very extraordinary accidents: I confirm unto you, Madam, the gift I made you of my soul, but I conjure you not to receive any trouble into yours, either by this conformation, or by my former declaration, you shall receive no displeasure from my passion, and all the power that my Birth gives me in these Provinces, shall never give me a moment's dispensation from the respect I have for you. I will love you to reverence in you those miracles which the Gods have placed there; I will love you to serve you at the rate of my dearest interests, and I will love you to obey the force of my destiny, which, though I should have the will, does not leave me the liberty not to love you; but this love, whereof I make this public confession, shall not produce any effects which you may condemn, and I would suffer death a thousand times, rather than give myself the liberty of the least action, or the least thought that might displease you: I will consider you as if you were the Daughter of the greatest King upon Earth, and those marks of Virtue that appear in your countenance so dear to me, that I will employ my life in its defence, rather than conceive any desire of opposing it: yet if the testimonies of an innocent affection, which I give you without artifice, may be disagreeable to you, I will so imprison them in my heart, and though this constraint should bring me to my grave, you shall never be importuned by them.  
This fair person re-assured herself by this discourse, and finding nothing in it that the severest virtue could disallow of, she heard me with patience, and when I had done speaking, casting her eyes upon my face, which before she had fixed upon the ground, and discovering to me by the light of the tapers, her admirable beauties more fully than she had done before, after she had been silent a while, to think upon what answer she should make me, she replied with a most incomparable grace: Sir, said she, all the trouble I could receive both by the former rancounter, and by your unexpected arrival in this house, might have dissipated in a soul much more fearful than mine, both by the knowledge of your condition, and by the marks of virtue which appear both in your countenance and discourse, all the astonishment that remains, Sir, is to see what pains you take to give me assurances very contrary to all likelihood, and possibly very far from the truth: Heaven hath bestowed but a mean beauty upon me, and though it had something capable of making itself beloved, the accidents and displeasures of my life have not left it in a condition to produce such extraordinary effects: yet I received with all due respect, the praises which you bestow upon it, and the esteem you express to a poor stranger, who, neither in respect of her birth, or fortune, did ever expect from a great Prince these effects of gallantry which he might employ upon a more worthy subject.  
Whilst she spoke thus with some difficulty to express herself in our language, which had already certified me that she was no native of Cilicia, it seemed that all the graces composed her action, and the prepossession of my soul made me believe that I saw new flashes of lightning proceed from her eyes, which absolutely set me all on fire: this redoubling of my passion forcing me to interrupt her about the doubt she had of it: I do not believe, said I, divine person, that I can be guilty of a lie in your presence, and do not attribute, I beseech you, that to gallantry and artifice, which proceeds from the strongest and the most sincere affection wherewith a soul can engage itself: this beauty which you cannot disesteem without burting me, may produce more sudden and more strange effects, and it is neither your fortune, nor the accidents of your life, that can make it lose that miraculous power which ought to make all things submit to it: I am yours, I call the Gods to witness, and I am yours in such a manner, that nothing shall be able to hinder me from being so as long as I live. Suffer me, my divine Beauty, to live in this condition, and permit me sometimes to give you real assurances of it: 'tis only the sight of you and your discourse I desire of you, and if you see me give liberty to other desires, or fail in the least part of respecting you equally to the daughter of Augustus, I shall not only not think it strange that you should cast me off, but I condemn myself to be eternally banished from your presence.  
To these words I joined a very submissive and supplicating action, and the fair person to whom I addressed them, having harkened to them with patience: I will believe Sir, said she, for fear of displeasing you, that which you take so much pains to persuade me to, and though all appearances are to the contrary, out of the respect I owe to you, I will not dispute any thing against you; besides, it will be difficult for me to refuse to be seen by one who is an absolute Prince in this Country, whose modesty I ought not to abuse, because he desires that with submission, which he might obtain with authority: but I will take the liberty to present to you, that this manner of carriage, in relation to a person so mean, and so far inferior to you, to a Maid, whose disasters have made her to be of a very bad humour, will be little agreeable, or conformable to your grandeur, and if you please to give me a little more freedom, I will tell you, Sir, that virtue, wherewith I am willing to believe that you regulate all your desires, will not secure me from reproach, and that a Maid born in a condition so disproportionable to yours, cannot permit a Prince as you are, to have private conferences with her without ruining herself. I desire nothing of you so private, replied I, but that in all our conversations, you may have by you as witnesss all these persons that hear us now; I have made an acknowledgement of my passion in their presence, and by this fair and open way of procedure with you, you may judge of the innocency of my intentions: I request nothing of you but what may brook the light, and howsoever you please to undervalue yourself, I am prompted by an interior knowledge to discern you from persons of ordinary consideration and quality. Amongst those that are about you possibly there is some body, whom either friendship, or communication of counsels, will not suffer you to suspect: if they disapprove the request I make to you, I will no longer persevere in it, and my dearest contentments would be odious to me, if I should obtain them against your intentions.  
The adorable Unknown cast down her eyes at these words, and an ancient woman began to speak who stood by her; Delia, said she, if this great Prince desires nothing of you but to see you and discourse with you, I suppose you cannot deny him, and in my opinion you will do nothing against your duty, when you see him and discourse with him in our presence.  
Briseis (that was the name of the Mistress of the house) seconded these words, informed her fair guest, as far as she knew, of my conditions, and prayed her to have no fearful apprehensions of the visits and conversation of a Prince, who in all his actions had appeared full of discretion and goodness, and preached so handsomely to her upon this Text, that in fine she told her that she might receive the Prince into her house when she pleased, and that she would not avoid his company so long as he kept himself to the terms he had proposed.  
In this manner I obtained the permission of seeing her with incredible satisfaction, and I was resolved to carry myself so towards her, as if she had been of a more sublime condition than myself. After this permission for which I rendered her thanks in very passionate expressions, I desired to be informed of her fortune, and I understood that she called herself Delia, that she was born of noble blood upon the Frontier of Armenia, and that part of their Family consisting of a Son and two Daughters, and an Aunt, which was the woman which had spoken a little before, being at Sea upon an important voyage, their Vessel by a terrible tempest was driven upon the Coast, and shattered to pieces upon the Rocks; that the Son and all his Servants had lost their lives amongst the waves, and the Aunt and her two Niece's laying hold upon some planks of the Ship, were cast upon the shore, where the Mistress of the house received them, and entertained them with a great deal of goodness, whilst they expected some favourable opportunity to go to Sea again, and take the nearest way into their own Country.  
This woman by this discourse did strongly interess me in the displeasures and fortune of Delia, and after I had comforted them the best I possibly could for the losses they had received: You have found, added I, whatsoever you could desire either in relation to your stay here, or your return into your own Country, if the incomparable Delia have so much goodness as not to fly so soon from a Prince who doth even idolatrise her divine qualities; she may stay with you in Cilicia, in a condition possibly as advantageous and in as great tranquillity as if she were in Armenia: this is that which I conjure her to, and you likewise by that pity which may interess you in my safety, and doth not permit her to abandon a Prince so soon, who in so sudden a separation can find nothing but the loss of his repose: and if by my ardent supplications, and some care of a life which I have devoted to her, I cannot obtain of her and you to continue here a while at the rate of my dearest interests, I will cause you to be conducted back, and I will conduct you myself, if you will permit me, into any part of the world whither you shall please to retire yourselves. Delia and her Aunt were more moved with these words than with all my former discourse, yet they contented themselves to give me many thanks full of acknowledgement, without speaking of their own intentions.  
After this we conversed together for some time, which seemed very short to me, though it was for divers hours, in which space having met with as many charms in Delia's spirit, as there were in her countenance, I absolutely submitted all that I was Master of to her power: the mistress of the house caused a chamber to be made ready for me, believing that I intended to stay there that night; but I was afraid I should have incommodated the Ladies, and have troubled Delia in making too free use of this first visit, and seeing that the rain was waste, and the night fair and clear, I caused my horses to be brought forth, and took my leave of the company; giving goodnight to Delia, whom I quitted with a great deal of repugnance: Divine Delia, said I, I leave you such dear pledges that it is difficult for me to leave you without a great deal of affliction; If my visits be not troublesome I will come sometimes to confirm those protestations I have made to be eternally yours, if they do create you any displeasure I shall forbear seeing of you; but I shall never do that without dying. I did not give her time to repl●, but mounting my horse immediately after, I parted and went from that dear house, where, together with Delia, I left the better part of my soul.  
The Castle where at that time I took my divertisements, was not so far distant but I could gallop thither in an hour, and there I passed the rest of that night, and the beginning of the next in thoughts divided between the joy I resented for my late good success, and inquietude for the engagement of my soul: 'Tis certain for all that, that the beginnings of this passion are always sweet, it flatters us at its birth, and concealing its cruelty from us, it displays only what is agreeable. I sufficiently experimented this in this adventure, and being drawn out of the first pleasures that charmed me, I did not foresee the crosses and displeasures which followed them in throngs, and for some contentments which any other soul but mine, would possibly not have been sensible of, have exposed me to miseries which would have infallibly ruined an ordinary constancy.  
A few days after (for I would not indulge my passion which urged me that way every hour, for fear of displeasing her I loved) I visited the happy place of Delia's residence, and I had the good fortune to entertain her as freely as I could desire; but she still appeared more fair in my eye than she had done before, and at every visit that I tendered her, me thought I discovered some new beauty: but I found her so full of civility and sweetness in receiving the testimonies of my love, I likewise saw her so far from taking those impressions which I endeavoured to work in her, that I began to foresee some difficulties that I had not proposed to myself before.  
One day (which I believe was that of my seventh or eight visit) walking with her in the Garden which belonged to the house, and seeing that her Aunt, her Sister, and Briseis, came so far behind as not to understand our discourse. Divine Delia, said I, if I had any thing more precious than my heart and soul, upon the knowledge of your admirable qualities, I should have given you that too, as willingly as I have given you that which I was Master of till it was yours, and in this present you would have received no more from me, than what is due to you from all the persons that have the honour to see you: I have given myself to you, my dear Delia, without any interest or pretention, and Heaven is my witness, that it is not upon any hope that you can disallow, that I have engaged myself to love you. Neither will I ever have any thought which may make you doubt of the esteem and respect which I have for your virtue, and I reverence it too particularly in you to have the least thought of wronging it. But, Delia, 'tis so natural in the course of affection to desire some acknowledgement, and love is so carried by its own inclinations to produce its like, that you cannot possibly with justice condemn the desire I have to introduce into your soul some part of this affection, to which I have entirely sacrificed myself: I know that in the small time I have been yours, I could not in reason oblige you to particular affection for me; a conquest of so great a value, merits without doubt, much longer sufferings than mine have been, and many years of service whereof as yet I have hardly given you an account of a few days. But O Gods! how happy should I be? O Gods! how much should I be satisfied: if I knew that you were really disposed but only to wish me well? and if I could ground my hope upon appearances, that my love and services might gain me some advantage upon a heart, which I desire to encounter by that means, and by that means I might vanquish it, if your inclinations did not oppose me.  
Whilst I spoke in this manner, Delia blushed, and I had reason to conceive that it was only out of respect and consideration that she admitted of this discourse; yet she endured it without any mark of repugnance, seeing I conversed with her upon the same terms as I might have done with the greatest Princess of Asia, and after she had quickly harkened to me; Sir, said she, you can give me no opinion of the purity of your designs wherewith I am not already prepossessed, and when you gave me the first knowledge of a particular esteem you had for me, if I had suspected the contrary, those very waves that cast me from your Coasts, should have sheltere▪ me from the puissance of a Prince, whose bad intentions could not but render him very formidable to a strange Maid: the belief I have received of your virtue, both from the report of Briseis, and the marks you have given me of it yourself, have made me receive the honour you do me, with the respect that is due to you, and upon this consideration possibly, I transgress those rules which my duty prescribes both to my age and sex. These proofs of your affection (since in obedience to you, I must not oppose the opinion you are pleased to give me of them) which ought to affright a Maid reduced by her fortune to the condition I am in, have not produced that effect in me, and I have harkened to the assurances you have been pleased to give me of them, out of the confidence I have always had of your virtue: This is all Sir, that you can desire of a Maid whom you have judged worthy of your esteem, and farther than the respect I have for your person and goodness, I know no thoughts that can be pardonable to a Maid of my condition. I am too much obliged, replied I, to the opinion you have had of me before you knew me, and I have made no small progress upon your spirit, if I have already planted an esteem there, which cannot but be very dear, and very advantageous to me: by the means of that, possibly I may obtain something more powerful of you, and neither the condition you are in, nor that duty you oppose against me, can in reason hinder you from what acknowledgement requires, or that I desire of you only in such terms as can never offend you: if ever you see me transgress these bounds which I prescribe to myself, banish me from you as a person the most unworthy to love you in the world; but if I regulate my affection so, that you can no way disallow of it, give me leave, adorable Delia, to hope for some more precious thing from you, than as yet I have obtained from your goodness. It will be very difficult for me. Sir, replied Delia, to entertain any other thoughts than what I have already for you: they may render themselves more powerful in my spirit by further knowledge, and the obligations we have to your goodness: but I do not think they can ever change their nature.  
We had some farther discourse upon this subject, but Delia could not be moved from her resolution, and in all the succeeding visits she continued so steadfast, that I almost lost all hope of engaging her to any affection for me as long as I lived. If these difficulties caused me some displeasure, her virtue which I took notice of by a thousand marks, engaged and inflamed me the more, and I did then firmly believe that I could not love more nobly, nor in any place more worthy of my love, though I should have addressed myself to the chiefest Princess of the Universe.  
To render Briseis the more favourable to me, I often made her great presents; but I had always such a respect for Delia, that I durst offer nothing to her nor her Aunt, for fear of offending them, and I contented myself to let her Aunt often understand by Briseis, that she might absolutely dispose of all things that were in my power, and that she should make no difficulty to make use of them, in regard of the losses they had received by shipwreck.  
I lived in this manner, when I received a command from the King to return to Tharsus, and the order was so pressing, that I had not so much time to take my leave of Delia: I comforted myself in this displeasure with the hope I had that I might see her again within a few days, and upon that confidence I sent Dion to her with this Letter which I wrote to her.  
Prince PHILADELPH to the Divine DELIA.  
A Pressing and cruel order divides me from you for some days, and I should speak more truly, if I should say that it divides me from myself, since that the better part of me remains with you, and I cannot be torn from you without the separation of my body, which is drawn another way from my soul which I left with you. I should not have constancy enough to support this displeasure, if it were likely to be of any long continuance, and if I did not hope to overcome my ill fortune, by the absence of a few days: but why do I call them a few days? they will be of so insupportable a length to me, that I shall reckon every one of them for a year.  
Dion carried this Letter to Delia, but he brought me back no answer, neither did I expect any, judging by the course of life that this Maid took with me, that her severity would not permit her a long time to favour me with her Letters.  
I departed from that place, and arrived at Tharsus the day following, where I received great reproaches from the King for not having seen him in so long a time, and I found him in such an humour upon that account, that made me believe that he would not permit me to return to my solitude a great while. This fear afflicted me with a mortal displeasure, but I was no less troubled at the command he laid upon me a few days after, to serve the Princess Urania in good earnest, and to dispose myself to marry her within a small time.  
There was so little room in my soul for this new affection, that all the powers on earth could not give it entrance, and I found no disposition in myself to obey the King's command; I began likewise to acquit myself of what he desired of me so coldly, that all persons who had a mind to observe my actions, knew very well that I proceeded with a great deal of repugnance. The image of Delia engraved in the middle of my heart, made every thing else but herself disagreeable to my imagination, and not only the beauty of Urania, but all those of the Court of Tharsus, instead of moving me, were looked upon with disdain and oversion.  
Within a few days her absence began to make itself sensible in good earnest, and a little after, those who would take notice, might have read as much in my face. Delia alone eternally possessed my memory, and in the best company I could come into, I fell into a profound musing, which rendered me incapable of all conversation. If I desired to entertain Urania according to the King's intention it was necessary that by the force of imagination I should suppose that I directed my discourse to Delia, and when I could not work that effect upon my spirit, I came off so unhandsomely in what I spoke against my own heart, that she might easily take notice of my constraint, and the little disposition I had to comply with my Father's intentions.  
I wrote to Delia divers times, and in my Letters I did incessantly express the displeasure I received in being separated from her, but though she received them courteously, and treated Dion who brought them with a great deal of sweetness and civility, she never returned me any answer, and contented herself to send me word by Dion that she was very much obliged to my memory, and that she would persevere as long as she lived in the design of honouring and esteeming of me as I deserved. In all probability there was but little cause of contentment in this kind of treatment, but I could not disesteem any thing that proceeded from such a virtue as Delia's, and that which would not have satisfied me from another person, coming from Delia it was received by me as something supremely precious.  
In the mean time, my languishing and the profound Melancholy that possessed me, made itself apparent to all the world; the King asked me the cause of it divers times, but in vain, and he was the last person in the world to whom I should have discovered it: but the Princess Andromeda my Sister, for whom I had a very firm friendship, informed herself of me with more success. I really affected her, both as the rare qualities she is mistress of, might oblige all the world to do, and as the ardent affection which she always had for me, did particularly oblige me. There are few persons endowed with a greater share of beautythan she, and fewer endued with more rational intellectuals: She questioned me oftentimes concerning the change of my humour, and not being able to get any thing out of me at the first, she did so interess herself in my condition, that I believed myself obliged at the last to discover the cause of it to her, especially considering, as I imagined, that I might receive assistances from her upon that account, which might be capable of sweetening my displeasures.  
Upon this design, one day having shut myself up with her in her Closet, after I had meditated a while upon the discourse I had to make to her: Dear Sister, said I, 'tis impossible for me to conceal my heart any longer from you, and the amity I have for you, hath rendered you so powerful over my spirit, that henceforth I shall not be able to disguise any thing from your knowledge; yea, Sister, I will discover to you my most secret thoughts: but by this testimony of my amity, I would oblige yours to render me all the assistance I may receive from it, and which I only desire for the preservation of my life. Doubt not, Brother, replied the Princess, but that I shall be always disposed to give you the most difficult testimonies of my affection, and I shall never be more satisfied, than when I shall be able to contribute any thing to your repose: Open your heart to me upon this assurance, and expect the utmost of my discretion in concealing your secret, and of my intentions to render you those assistances you may desire of me. I expected no less, dear Sister, said I, but I conjure you to persevere in these intentions, and not to refuse me that upon any slight consideration, which I neither can nor will receive but only from yourself.  
In the close of these words, I plainly discovered to her the condition of my soul, I related her the rancounter I had with Delia, I described her beauty, and forgot nothing in the repetition of all the discourses I had with her.  
Andromeda was troubled at this Story, and not approving of a passion wherein I had so lightly engaged myself, she did her endeavour to oppose it, and alleged to me all the reasons and consequences that probably she could set before my eyes: but after I had quietly harkened to her; Sister, said I, I know very well that my love hath strangeness enough in it to surprise those to whom I make a relation of it: but the sight of Delia will dissipate all your astonishments, and when the beauty of her soul shall be as well known to you as that of her body, you will confess not only that I have committed no fault in loving her, but that withal powers of my soul, I am not capable to love her sufficiently; however it fall out, Sister, I am so far engaged, that all the powers on earth are not able to take me off, and though I had the power to do it myself, yet I find so much sweetness, and so much glory too in loving of Delia, that I should sooner choose to cease to live, than cease to love her: But brother, replied Andromeda, if the Maid be endued with such a severe virtue as you represent her to be, what can your design be? for when all is done, I do not believe you have any intention to marry her. Hitherto, replied I, I have had no other design than to love her infinitely, and though I do sufficiently esteem her to make her my Wife, yet the difficulties, which without doubt, I should find in gaining the King's consent, have hindered me from thinking of that: but yet certainly, I should dispose myself to that much rather, than conceive any desire that might wrong her Virtue. You cannot, answered the Princess, conserve any inclination to so strange and unequal a marriage, without incurring the King's displeasure, and the scorn of all your subjects, and I have too much confidence in your discretion and good conduct to fear that of you: but Brother, since you have given me this knowledge of your passion, what service is it that you desire of me, and what is it that I can do for your repose and satisfaction? I desire Sister, replied I, if you love me so well as to do me that good office, that you would entreat leave of the King to go and divert yourself a few days at Siloe (that was the name of that fatal Castle which had caused me to know Delia) which he will easily grant you, if you represent to him that change of air is necessary for you by reason of some indisposition: and my desire is, that amongst the rest of your walks, you would take one towards the place of Delia's retreat, which Dion will show you, and that you would visit that admirable creature, whose sight, without doubt, will make your heart excuse that fault which now your tongue reproaches me withal; and after that, by the knowledge of herself, she shall have produced in your spirit, part of that which she hath already done in mine: I beseech you, dear Sister with all the earnestness that is possible for me, that you would engage her to you, and oblige her in the company of her Aunt and Sister (for it would not be easy, neither is it necessary to part them) to take their retreat for a while with you: Such a beauty as hers will be there in greater safety, than in a solitary house where she is exposed to a world of dangers, you will do an action of generosity in entertaining and protecting strangers, whom their Shipwreck hath exposed to all manner of misfortunes, in which they will receive those assistances from you without difficulty, which they refuse to own from me; and to tell you that which imports me most, by your means I shall see the person I love without danger of displeasing the King by absenting myself from the Court, or of injuring Delia's reputation, as without doubt I should do if I continued to render her my visits at Briseis' house. Behold, dear Sister, the good office I desire of your friendship, it is not unworthy of your virtue, since, I protest before the Gods, all my thoughts are limited within the bounds of virtue, and if I see Delia by your means, I shall see her and converse with her in such a manner as shall never cause the honour of your house to be called in question.  
In this manner I acquainted Andromeda with my intentions, and after she had meditated a while upon the answer she was to make me: Brother, said she, you desire a thing of me, which you would never have requested if my interests had been as considerable to you as your own contentments, and without doubt I expose myself to divers troubles, both in regard of the King's indignation which I shall draw upon myself when the truth is discovered, and the report that will accompany this action which possibly may undergo a bad construction, all which you might have easily foreseen, if your passion did not close up your eyes against all interests besides your own: but to let you know that I love you better without doubt than you do me, I will do what you desire, and it shall not be the fault either of my entreaties or endeavours, if the Maid be not with me within these few days: but, Brother, when she is with me, do not you pretend to any thing from her besides her sight and company, and so far I shall assist you; but believe me, I should more easily consent to see you marry that Stranger, then to see you express any intentions to a Maid in my Family that may injure my Honour. If my intentions, replied I, were not the same that I have represented to you, I would not have made my address to my Sister; and I will tell you farther, that whatsoever consideration I have for you, I have no less for Delia, and I would not suffer for my life that she should take any less honourable, or less secure retreat, than she is like to find with you.  
We had divers other discourses besides, whereby at last I disposed her to all that I could hope from her amity. She acquitted herself of all things punctually, and the next day having desired permission of the King to pass some days at Siloe, a little after she went thither, and with a great deal of goodness endeavoured my repose.  
It is not necessary that I should enlarge myself in these particulars: the second day of her walking abroad she visited Brisei's house, which had a very agreeable situation, and the Mistress of the house, who had spent some time at Court, was not unknown to her; she saw Delia, and in this interview having found all things in her far above what I had described to her, she desired to have her near her for her own interest, as much as she had desired it before for mine.  
The next day the Princess having sent them a Chariot, Briseis and her guests went to see her at Siloe, where having signified to Delia, that she sympathized much with her in her fortune, and desired to render her all manner of consolation, she entreated her, together with her Aunt and Sister, to spend their time with her as long as they should please to continue there, assuring them of all manner of accommodation and protection, and promising them that when they were weary of their continuance in Cilicia, she would furnish them with means of returning into their own Country. Delia and her Aunt returned their humble thanks in terms full of acknowledgement; but Delia calling to mind my love (though the Princess had made no mention of me to her, nor signified that she had any knowledge of it) and believing that she ought not to cast herself upon occasions of receiving new testimonies of it, resisted her desires a long time, telling her that in the condition of their fortune, and the grief they resented for the loss of some of their nearest relations, they ought to avoid the Court and great companies, and continue in a solitude more conformable to their affliction.  
This was all Andromeda could get from her the first day of their conversation, and this resistance whereof she might well suspect the cause, made her esteem Delia much the more, and conceive a real desire to obtain her company, as well for love of herself, as upon my consideration; and having sent for her divers other times, she courted her with such winning language, that at last, either by the charms which Andromeda is really Mistress of in surprising of hearts, or by the hope she gave her of causing her to be reconducted into her own Country, when she had no mind to tarry any longer with her, she desired, and from that day forward she retained her, together with her Aunt and Sister, in her house, placing her Aunt with her women, and Delia and her Sister among her Maids of honour. She continued a while longer in the Country to take away all suspicion from Delia, that this was an affected action, and a design premeditated for my advantage: but she wrote to me concerning the success of her voyage, and by that news possessed me with such a joy as I could hardly contain.  
Why should I detain you any longer with this discourse; after some day's continuance at Siloe, in which time Andromeda having taken notice of the admirable qualities of Delia, gave her almost as full possession of her own heart, as I had done of mine, she returned to Tharsus, and brought Beauties with her to that Court, which gave a new lustre to it, and in particular caused a new day to dawn in my benighted soul. I received Andromeda as the tutelary Daemon of my repose and life, and I expressed my thankfulness for her goodness, in such terms as made her clearly apprehend the greatness of my passion, and when we passed from these first actions of acknowledgement to some other kind of discourse: Well Sister, said I, have you found me real in the relation I made you concerning Delia, and have you not observed parts in that divine person, which have caused you to finish that without repugnance which you began for love of me? Delia is so amiable, replied the Princess smiling, that I love her already as much as you do, and if hitherto I have tendered her reputation upon my own interest, upon her own account for the future I will never permit that you should entertain any thoughts that might be injurious to her. I tell you really, continued she with a more serious look, I will permit you to see her, and speak to her, as you have hitherto done to those of my Maids which you esteemed above the rest: But if I can ever perceive any thing in this business that displeases me, or only signifies to me that your intentions are bad, as well as I love this Maid, I shall take order to send her away with so much diligence, that you shall never hear more news of her.  
When I heard Andromeda threaten me thus, I confirmed the promises I had made to her, and after I had freed her from all fears she might conceive upon that occasion, I went to visit Delia, who had not yet stirred from the Lodging assigned to her, it being the Princess 's pleasure that they should not show themselves till they were habited like the rest, and put in a condition to present themselves in her Chamber. I could not see Delia again without transport, and whatsoever assurance her innocence might give her, she did not see the without a blush. After the first compliments of reception which I made to her Aunt, her Sister and herself in general, addressing myself more particularly to her: My adorable Delia, said I, you have left your solitude, which your presence rendered more glorious than the Courts of Kings, and by the lustre you have brought into ours, you have dissipated that darkness which in your absence had taken possession of my soul: I could not, replied Delia, disobey the pleasure of the Princess, who hath commanded me to continue a while with her, and though possibly no place of residence were supportable to us in the present condition of our affairs, I have at the first sight conceived too great a respect for her to do any thing that may cross her desires. Would it had pleased the Gods, answered I, that you had done that upon another motive, which you have done upon this consideration, and that I had been indebted to your pity for what I owe to the affection you have had for my Sister: yet I am obliged to her for this benefit, and do confess that I am reduable to her for all the repose of my soul, and for my life which I could not have preserved any longer without seeing of you again: but I would, if you please, be beholding to you for the remainder of it, and hope that henceforward you will have some sense of my sufferings, and some regard of a condition, whereunto out of a state of liberty and tranquillity, you have for ever reduced me. It will not be difficult for you, replied Delia, to reassume that liberty which you have so easily parted with all, and when you shall make a reflection upon my fortune and my person, you will easily lose those impressions you have received without being acquainted with me. Ah! Delia, cried I, I shall never cease to love you till I cease to live, and I cannot reflect upon the Subject of my love without strongly consirming myself in this passion to which I have devoted all my days: But Sir, added Delia, with a more serious countenance than before, do you not consider that you are in a condition very different from that of common persons, and that you have not so much liberty in your actions or affections as a private man? there is no law, answered I, that can force a man's inclinations, and though the King hath commanded me, and doth command me still every day to love and serve the Princess Urania, he shall never obtain of me an effect of obedience that will never be in my power, and though he were more powerful than he is, he shall never be able to deprive Delia of that heart which I have given her, and which cannot be transported to any other place by any duty, or upon any other consideration. Ah Sir! replied Delia, I should be very much afflicted if I should be the cause of disobedience or disorder in your family, and if for the sake of an unfortunate stranger you should draw upon you the indignation of the King your father; I will not contribute to the trouble you may receive upon that account, and it were much better that you should engage yourself in some affection wherein you might find your establishment and repose, than to amuse yourself about a small ill-grounded inclination, which in reason you cannot bestow so much as a thought upon: I will never have any thought for you, answered I, that you may justly condemn, and though (to make you an ingenuous confession) I have loved you hitherto without any other design than to love you, I shall be capable of whatsoever you approve, rather than you should not be capable of some sense of affection for me; I protest it to you by all the Gods, that if in the course of this love which lays me at your feet without an interest, I can be but so happy as to understand that you dispose yourself to love me, you shall quickly know that my desires aim at nothing superior to yourself, and as there is no dignity to which you may not rightfully aspire, so there is no consideration which can hinder me from placing you there, when my person shall be so agreeable to you, as to cause you to receive the effects of my love without repugnance.  
Delia blushed a little at these words, which possibly she had not expected so promptly from me; and after she had continued a while without replying: I shall never have any repugnance, said she, either for your person or the testimonies of your affection; but what design soever you may have to my advantage, I will never approve of it so long as other persons may have reason to condemn it, and the splendour of preferments and dignities cannot possibly charm me so much as to make me willing to purchase it with the displeasure of seeing a fault committed by a person whom I esteem and honour as my duty is. By these words, which proceeded from a courage infinitely high, Delia augmented the respect I had for her, and regarding her with a new admiration: You are worthy without doubt, said I to her, of a much higher fortune that I can advance you to, and I know you too well to believe that the hope of greatness is more powerful upon your spirit, than the proofs of a faithful and respectful passion: but if besides his heart and soul, the gift whereof hath exceeded all that he can do more, a Prince should offer you.— 'Tis enough Sir, answered Delia, interrupting me, and I beseech you pardon me if I oppose the sequel of your discourse; I do neither expect nor desire these propositions from you, and as you may content yourself, if you please, with the respect I have for you, so I shall be satisfied with the particular esteem which you express to me, without framing designs contrary to appearance and reason.  
This was all I could obtain of Delia, not only at this first conversation, but in all the rest that I had with her a long time after, and she kept herself so within the limits of an immovable moderation, that by all the proofs of my love I could never incline her spirit to a complatency which might cause her to remit any the least thing from the highest and severest virtue, yet for all this she treated me with a great deal of sweetness, she always looked kindly upon me, and expressed by all her actions that she esteemed my person upon other considerations than that of my birth; but this was all that I could get of her, and she was so far from giving herself the liberty of granting me the smallest favours, that she did not speak so much as one word to me that proceeded from terms of goodwill, and I confess that I contented myself with this fortune, and maugre the inequality of our conditions, I had form an Idea of this admirable person to myself that rendered the smallest thing that related to her, precious to me.  
In the mean time this miraculous beauty appeared at the Court like a resplendent Star, which with its lustre eclipsed all the rest; and after she had been there a few days, there was no discourse but of the fair Stranger which was in the Princess 's service. The King and Queen beheld her with admiration, and she had hardly begun to show herself, but she had made a thousand sighs for her and adored her: they all crowded to her to give her the first testimonies of it, but she treated them all with so much indifference and disdain, that the boldest amongst them had hardly the confidence to renew their suit. I saw her every day with facility enough, but never without the company of her sister, or some of her companions, and in all the conversations that I had with her, though she were of a softer sex, and younger years than I, yet she gave me examples and precepts of virtue, which might have swayed my inclinations that way, if I had capacity enough to profit by them.  
Alas! how many times in this happy season, after I had passed some hours in her company with incredible ravishments, have I cried out to myself with transport, that all kind of employments and conditions in the world ought to give place to the glory of serving Delia? how often have I prayed the Princess my Sister that she would interess herself, and often bear a part in our society, and to confess that the world had nothing comparable to Delia, and that she was a thousand times more beholding to me for the occasion I had given her of gaining the company of this admirable person, than I was obliged to her for the benefit she had procured me by it? She likewise took no notice of the precautions she had made for the honour of her family, and reposing an entire confidence in the virtue of Delia, she left her to the conduct of her own life, without troubling herself in relation to the interest she might have taken in it. In the mean while she loved and caressed her in such a manner, that this Maid being obliged to her amity, whatsoever desire she had to return into her own country, durst not require the performance of the promise which was made of conducting her back again thither, and always when she was about to open her mouth to that purpose, Andromeda entertained her with such fine expressions, and represented her with such tender and pressing caresses that she could not live without her, that she insensibly engaged her to a much longer stay than she had intended.  
In the mean time I had so abandoned myself to my love, that I had no thoughts left but for Delia only, and I did less interess myself in the affairs of Cilicia, and all those things which in all likelihood might concern me, than those would have done which were the merest strangers to them: Though I saw Delia divers hours every day, I did not think I saw her half enough, and always when I was constrained to part from her, I could not dispose my myself to it without strange reluctancies and violences: Nevertheless I desired to render to decency and duty part of that which they required of me, and this was that which often times deprived me of that which I acknowledged to be my only felicity.  
The King being solicited by the Queen his Wife, pressed me every day to serve Urania: but he found no disposition in my spirit to obey him, and though out of complacency to him I forced myself sometimes to express love to that Princess, the violence I did myself was so easy to be taken notice of, that those who were never so little clear-sighted might plainly have perceived it.  
Urania, who together with a rare beauty and a thousand excellent qualities which accompany it, hath likewise an admirable Wit capable of making all manner of discoveries, discerned my dissembling very readily, and having a courage worthy of her birth, she could not satisfy herself with a forced complacency, in stead of that which in reason she believed she justly merited, and upon this account seeing me often by some ill-composed discourse endeavour to persuade her to that which was contrary to my heart, she received it in such a fashion as made me very well perceive, that her obedience only made her endure it.  
This continued a long time before we made any farther discovery to each other, and I was sensible, with a great deal of displeasure, of the wrong I did to the beauties of that Princess, affording her nothing but gross dissemble, in stead of an affection whereof I really judged her exceeding worthy: But in fine her courage could not any longer submit itself to dissimulation, and one day when I had made her some verbal protestations, to which my heart gave no consent, through which the violence I offered to myself might easily appear, by reason of the little skill I had in the Art of dissembling, the Princess shaking her head, and looking upon me with a smiling countenance: Philadelph, said she, You make me pity you a great deal more than you intended, and this censtraint, to which I see you cruelly exposed, creates a real passion in me for you: to please an unreasonable Father, you conceal your thoughts, but you conceal them in such a manner, that it is easy for persons of ordinary perspicacity to observe them. Offer no more violence to yourself for the sake of a Princess, who hath to● good an opinion of herself, to thank you for the constraint you lay upon herself, and you may believe that she would hardly afford that to your affections, though real, which such an obedience as yours is, makes her bestow upon your dissemble. You shall never be forced in your inclinations for Urania 's sake, and if you have so much esteem for me, as to open your heart freely to me, I promise you that for my part you shall never receive any opposition in your real affections: I shall content myself, without putting you to farther trouble, with those devoirs, which in obedience to the King, you seemingly render me, and I will not exact any thing of you wherein you may find repugnance, and I very little satisfaction.  
Urania spoke in this manner to me, and by this discourse she surprised me so, that I was so far from returning her a present answer, that for a long time I had not the confidence to look upon her: I found so much reason and truth in her discourse, that I could not disallow of it, and though I could not repent myself of the passion I had for Delia, I acknowledged that Princess so worthy of better usage than she had from me, that a criminal surprised in the very fact, could not appear more astonished than I seemed to be at that time. At last this first perturbation being overblown, and my eyes being open to the reason and freedom of the Princess, which I could no longer abuse without baseness, I resolved ingenuously to discover to her the condition of my soul, and to excuse the faults I had committed against her by reason of my pre-ingagement. Upon this design, fixing my eyes upon the ground (for I had not the confidence to look her in the face whilst I made this confession) Madam, said I, It is not easy for me to conceal my confusion in a condition whereinto you have put me by a procedure so full of generosity and freedom, and if I had not an absolute confidence in that goodness whereof you give me so many testimonies, I should never have the courage to make a discovery to you, which cannot handsomely be done: but since you are pleased to give me so much boldness, if the respect I owe you may give me permission, I will tell you that I really acknowledge the admirable qualities of your person, and that I am not ignorant of the glorious advantages I should receive in devoting my life entirely to your service: I have had all the dispositions, and all the desires to do it that I ought to have, but I had not the liberty, and since you give me leave ingenuously to confess my weakness, I will discover to you, Madam, that for a long time I have not been at mine own disposing, and that my soul being preingaged in a passion which enentirely possesses it, hath not found itself in a condition to receive those glorious impressions, which without dispute, you would form in all free souls It is easy for you to know so much, by taking notice of your own powers, and it would have been a difficult thing for me to have conversed with you so long, without being captivated by your divine beauties, if I had not been absolutely inflamed before by another object which hath hardly left me either eyes or understanding. If I had had any remaining power over my engaged heart, the Gods know, Madam, with how much satisfaction I should have submitted myself to your Empire, and for how great an honour I should have acknowledged it to dedicate my days to your service, according to the intention of the King my Father, but Madam,— No no, Philadelph, said the Princess, interrupting me, do not justify yourself any farther, I receive your excuses as favourably as you can desire, and I shall no way hinder your former inclinations, so as to oblige you to any constraint: I shall find no great difficulty to quit the pretensions I have to you, and I do not think you have perceived any other thoughts in me in relation to your person, than of esteeming you as you deserve: I might possibly in time have received other impressions, if you had obliged me to it by your affection and services, but that was not yet come to pass; and I find myself as free, as you can be, and as much Mistress of my will as when I came into Cilicia: In compliance to the King, you may make what use of it you please, and as your passion will permit, and we will continue upon the same terms we now are, without enraging ourselves farther in relation to any thing that either of us shall do in obedience to the King and Queen  
This was the resolution of the fair Princess of Cappadocia, and I found it so rational, that in spite of all my passion, I could not hinder myself from crying out: O Gods! how generous are you, and how unfortunate am I, that by the pre-ingagement, of my soul, I am rendered unworthy of the glory which my fortune hath offered me: but at least since that by this fatal engagement the thoughts I ought to have for you are forbidden me; permic me, Madam, by a continuance of your goodness, that in stead of those passionate resentments, I may conserve others for you of another nature, and interess myself in the occasions of doing you service, as if I had the honour to be your brother.  
Urania did not refuse me what I desired, and appearing satisfied with the confession I had made to her, she was well pleased that I should follow my inclinations without laying any constraint upon myself. I did so too thenceforward, and though I did seemingly render her my respects out of design, and that in public I pretended to some interest in her, when no body heard our discourse, I talked to her as to the Princess Andromeda, and conversed with her very differently from the Kings and Queens intentions. I could not forbear discovering all to Delia; but at the relation I made her of it, she was troubled in good earnest, she protested to me she would not suffer that for the love of her, I should fly out into disobedience to the King's pleasure to my own hurt, and that she would rather quit Cilicia, than see me shun my advantages upon an amusement which could not have any good success. This indifference, wherewith she answered the proofs of my passion, afflicted me with a sensible displeasure, and looking upon her with an air that signified a little discontent: I did not think said I, that these testimonies of my love ought to be disagreeable to you, and though besides Urania, I should disesteem all the world for your sake, I do not believe you could make it any just cause of complaint. This possibly would have had some operation in any other spirit but yours, and I am very unfortunate, if, by putting myself in danger of incurring the King's displeasure, I should likewise incur yours, in stead of a little acknowledgement which I might justly hope. I am not wanting Sir, replied Delia, in the acknowledgement that is due to you, and possibly 'tis only in regard of that, that I oppose those designs that are disadvantageous to you; the proofs of your affection are exceeding glorious to me, but I cannot approve of them if they be incommodious to yourself; and I do so far consider your interests, as never to give way that you should abandon them for an unfortunate stranger, or that for her sake, you should expose yourself to those troubles which your disobedience, without doubt, will raise in the Court if you persevere in it. Ah Delia! said I, with a gesture all composed of passion, the troubles of my soul ought to be more considerable to you, than those of the Court, and I am far enough from finding any repose or felicity in that obedience to which you would oblige me, seeing I can protest to you before the Gods, that I shall never find it but in yourself, and that if I lose the hopes of gaining your affection, I shall lose all pleasure and desire to live. Do not oppose then any longer what the Gods have ordained as to my destiny, do not vainly endeavour to introduce another Image into a heart which yours will absolutely possess to the end of my life, all the obedience I have for you, would be unprofitable upon this account, and by all the power you have over me, you shall never divert my thoughts from Delia for one single moment. These were the contestations that most commonly I had with her, and if out of complacency she forbore to contradict me in this design, yet she continually assured me that she would not contribute to the displeasure, which by that means, I might receive.  
In the mean time whatsoever discretion. I used to regulate the conduct of my love, it could not long continue secret, and as you know, the actions of persons of my rank being much more observed than those of private men, it was a difficult thing that Delia should be so fair, and that they should see me render her offices full of assiduity and respect, without suspecting that I loved her. The fame of it spread itself largely about the Court, and quickly came to the ears of those persons who were most interessed in it. Urania, who had suffered my engagement with a great deal of moderation, and little resentment, could not take notice that I dis-esteemed her for a person who was so inferior to her, without being a little moved with despite, and without expressing as much to me upon some occasions: but when she had well considered the person of Delia, she began to accuse me, and believed that there were but few spirits that could defend themselves against the powers of so admirable a person; but the Queen her Mother, who had often complained of the coldness I showed in the courting of her Daughter, could not give credit to this common report without being nettled at it, and without complaining to the King: at first he heard without much taking notice of it, and excused that to the Queen as the fault of my youth, which she condemned with a great deal of sharpness: But the Queen in process of time being confirmed in her opinions, and having pressed him by her continual solicitations, wrought upon his spirit, and obliged him absolutely to declare his will. Upon this design having one day detained me in his privy Chamber, and causing all other persons to withdraw, that he might speak to me with the greater liberty: Philadelph, said he, I shall tell you no news, when I shall acquaint you, that to preserve and augment the alliances which we have with the King of Cappadocia, I have resolved upon your marriage with the Princess his Sister; but I desired to put you in mind that it is time to make preparation for it, and that for very important reasons I am obliged to hasten the design: I believe that you are fully disposed to it already, and that you acknowledge as well as I, that there cannot be a more advantageous offer made you, than of such a Princess as Urania is.  
Whilst the King spoke in this manner, it was easy for him to read in my countenance the displeasure I received at his words, and when he had done speaking, I continued a long time with my eyes fixed upon the ground, without making him any reply; he took two or three turns about the Chamber in expectation, but when he saw I did not open my mouth to give him an answer: What Philadelph, said he, are you surprised at this proposition, and besides the knowledge you have already received of my pleasure, have you found nothing in the beauty and rare qualities of the Princess Urania to engage you in her service with satisfaction? Sir, replied I, at last, the Princess Uurania is worthy without doubt, both in respect of her beauty, and all manner of advantages, of a better fortune than is intended for her, and mine receives but too much glory in having been destined to her service: but Sir, that which I have already rendered her, hath been entertained by her with so few marks of inclination, that I confess mine is unedged by it, and if your Majesty does not allow me time to dispose myself to it, I shall never engage myself any more that way without repugnance. The King shaked his head at this discourse, to signify to me that he gave no great credit to it, and looking upon me with an action which expressed some discontent: Urania is too wise, said he, to nourish any inclinations that are different from the intentions of the Queen her Mother, and the King her Brother; and I know she hath received your services as she ought to receive them: But, Philadelph, I understand you are diverted by other passions which cannot be approved of by any person, and though hitherto I gave little belief to the report that was made me of it, and thought that a slight affection which beauty might produce for some moments in a young man's mind, had made no considerable impression in yours; now you confirm me in the opinion which I was persuaded to have of you, and you make me believe that it is this unjust preoccupation that hath rendered you insensible of Urania's beauties, and disobedient to my will.  
This discourse of the Kings, though I was a little prepared for it before, surprised me, and made me blush in such a manner, that by the change of my countenance the King received great confirmations of his suspicions, and was ready to open his mouth to tell me so much, when I began to speak: Sir, said I, they which made these reports to your Majesty are ill acquainted with my intentions, and I have received no impressions which hinder me from obeying you as my duty is: you may understand the truth of what I have said to you, if you please to inform yourself about it, and whatsoever deference the Princess Uranea had to the Queen her Mother's will, she herself will not, possibly, deny what little disposition she hath to love me: I will know that, added the King, and if those dispositions be wanting, her duty, without doubt will prompt her to receive them, as I would have you resolve upon that account to obey me without repugnance.  
He spoke no more to me at that time, but permitted me to retire myself so ill satisfied that I had not the power to dissemble it. I went immediately to the Princess my Sister, who perceived my alteration by my countenance, and having prayed her to cause Delia to be sent for, when that fair creature was come, taking Andromeda's hands, and pressing them betwixt mine with such an action as discovered to her the agitation of my spirit: Sister, said I, I desire your assistance in my misfortune, and if you love me you will not refuse me your consolations in the inquietudes which torment me. The King just now hath imperiously declared his pleasure to me, and his will is that I should dispose myself to marry Urania within a short time; but he shall sooner throw death into my bosom than that resolution, and all the powers of the whole world combined with his, shall never introduce any other affection into my heart, than that which I have for Delia. This Maid (if she will permit me to accuse her of it before you) repays me with an insensibility, to which possibly I have not obliged her, and she perceives in me the most real and pure affection that ever was, without being moved to so much as a single acknowledgement of it: I desire you, dear Sister, and conjure you by all the amity you have for a brother, who desires wholly to rely upon you, that you would work other thoughts in her in my favour, and that by all the credit you have upon her spirit, you would persuade her that she ought to interess herself more than hitherto she hath done in the life of a Prince, who hath absolutely devoted himself unto her. In stead of being pleased with the design which I have to disesteem all things for her sake, she opposes it out of a principle which I dare not attribute to ingratitude, and by a prodigious excess of misfortune I see myself reduced not only to suffer the persecutions of the King: but I see likewise with an incredible grief, that she for whom I would suffer them, in stead of comforting me in them, rejects them with disdain. Dear Sister, inspire other thoughts into this divine person, seeing all those I can desire of her cannot be disadvantageous to her, and do not suffer me, if you love me, to be ruined all at once both by the King's authority and Delia's insensibility.  
Andromeda harkened to me with some inquietudes which might easily be observed in the countenance, and when I had done speaking: Brother, said she, you need not doubt but that I interess myself in whatsoever may concern you, and render you all the assistances that you can justly desire of me: but Brother, I am able to do nothing with the King, and I believe I have no greater power over Delia's spirit: hitherto I have not seen you desire any thing of her, which I might not, and do not counsel her to grant you; and so long as your affection shall contain itself within these bounds, I will do what I can possibly to interess her in what you suffer and are like to suffer for her sake. Madam, said Delia, interrupting her, I have all the obedience and deference for you that may be, and all manner of acknowledgement and respect for Prince Philadelph: I receve the affection, wherewith you are pleased to honour me, as my duty binds, and I am not insensible of his, as he accuses me: I desire no greater testimonies of it than those which he himself reproaches me withal, and if I did not look upon it as I am obliged to do, possibly I should find glory enough in the affection of such a Prince as he is to make me close my eyes to the considerations of his repose. 'Tis because I esteem him according to his merit, that I slight mine own advantages to promote his, and that I would not suffer, if it were possible for me, that he should expose himself to the King's anger for my sake, and to those displeasures which he may receive by opposing his will. I will suffer them all for your sake, replied I, with such a joy as shall keep me from being sensible of them, and I shall never be happy so as when I shall be able by some extraordinary proof to testify that to you which hitherto you have only taken notice of in my discourse. It were much better, answered Delia coldly, that by my departure hence I should take away from the King the matter of his indignation, and from you the occasion of drawing it upon you: it will be with this intention, which really proceeds from the care of you, rather than from any other motive, that I shall beseech the Princess to permit me to retire myself, and to give me her assistance in relation to my retirement, as she promised me. You are, said I, with a very sad countenance, absolutely at liberty, and at your own disposing, whensoever you shall desire to return: but will you be pleased that I should wait upon you over all the world, or that I should die by mine own hands in your presence at your departure? I spoke these words with so passionate an action, that Delia seemed to be moved at it, and the Princess taking her turn to speak next after me: No Delia, said she, there is no necessity of so sudden a separation, and if you love me as you say, and as you are obliged to do by the amity I have for you, you will not afflict me with the double displeasure I shall receive by your absence, and my Brother's despair. But Madam, replied Delia, what does he desire of me, and what end can he propose to himself in an affection which cannot choose but ruin us both? I have often told you, answered I, that my love should never aim at any thing that your virtue might disallow of, and I will tell you more plainly before my Sister, that if it were in my power I would marry you, and in expectation of that liberty, I will never entertain that design for any other person. You can never expect that power, replied Delia, but by ways which you ought not to desire, and when you have obtained it, you will not possibly have surmounted all difficulties. O Gods! cnyed I out at these words, to what a pitiless spirit hath my fortune subjected me! Cruel Maid, continued I, looking upon her in a very sad and dejected manner, if you disdain and scorn the heart I have given you, and all that I can offer you, where shall I find any thing that may be worthy of being presented to you? I pronounced these words with such an afflicted air, that Delia's heart was a little moved at them, as I perceived by her action, and by the sweetness of a look, which glanced upon me contrary to her design: she kept her eyes a while fixed upon the ground, and then on a sudden looking upon the Princess: Madam, said she, since you have made me wholly yours, defend my cause, if you please, against the Prince your Brother, and I beseech your goodness to take the pains not only to justify me from the ingratitude with which he would reproach me, but to represent to him, that he cannot in reason desire of me more acknowledgement than I have for his affection. Having spoken these words, she entreated her to give her leave to retire herself for some moments, and so she left me much grieved for the small progress I had made upon her spirit, but my Sister and I continued in admiration of that virtue whereof she gave us a thousand testimonies every day: By making so small account of the hopes I gave her of a Crown, she strongly persuaded us, that she deserved something much more great, and confirmed me more and more in the design of never desiring the possession of it, but only to set it upon her head. Andromeda opposed this resolution as she supposeth it was her duty to do, by all manner of considerations: but her opposition was all in vain, and I saw nothing in Delia, which did not make me judge her worthy of all the world.  
I did not leave Andromeda, till I had engaged her to suffer much for my interests, and to oppose herself to the uttermost to the design which the King might have to take Delia from her, and I was much comforted with the promise she often made me to do it. The King upon the account of her Virtue, and the good qualities she was Mistress of, had very particular considerations for her, and expressed more than an ordinary affection to her. In the Interim, the first time that the Queen had any discourse with him about my marriage with her daughter, he told her that Urania had no great inclination to it, and related to her what I had told him concerning her coldness, and the little liking she had of me: The Queen who desired our marriage above all the things in the world, spoke to Urania of it the same day, and desired to learn from her mouth, if the report which she had heard were true: Urania, either not to wrong her own merit by declaring how slightly I valued it, or not to do me a bad office, freely told the Queen her Mother, that it was true, that she had no inclinations to love me, and that excepting what decency and the esteem she had for my person required, it would be difficult to bend her spirit to any greater testimonies of affection. At this discourse the Queen grew angry with her, and after that she had sharply blamed her for the little care she had to show her obedience, she imperiously commanded her to do better for the time to come, and protested that she would make her sensible of her displeasure, if she made too long a resistance against her will.  
For some days following she persecuted her in the same manner, and the Princess had courage enough to suffer much from her before she would confess the truth, telling her always that she did what possibly she could to overcome the repugnance she had to affect any man: but at last seeing herself extraordinarily pressed to it, and exposed to some usages, she thought she was no longer obliged to endure them for his sake who did not love her, and after she had harkened to a long and sharp reproof which the Queen bestowed upon her: Why? said she, would you have me love a man who had no affection for me, and that confessed as much himself, after that he had sufficiently expressed it by his actions? Does not Philadelph love you, replied the Queen? what mean then the public testimonies he gives of it, and the complaints he hath made of your coldness? I am unwilling, said she, to do him this bad office to you, and to the King whose intentions correspond with yours: but if we have a courage worthy of our birth, we shall offer no farther violence to the inclinations of Philadelph, and we may find elsewhere as great advantages as those which we expect from him.  
The Queen being exceeding angry at this discourse, gave no ear to her Daughter's counsel, but presently went to the King, and made great complaints to him of me, telling him that I had made a fool of her Daughter, and of him too, in persuading him to things far from truth, that Urania was not of a birth to be abused in this manner, and that all the Court thought it strange that I should prefer a poor stranger of a base and obscure birth before her: that it was murmured up and down every where, and if order were not taken in time I would render myself a laughing stock and a scorn to her subjects. The King who in all things took the Queen's part, was particularly moved at the complaints she made against me, and protested to her that if I did not readily dispose myself to obey him in the desire he had to engage me in the service of the Princess Urania, and if I did not abandon all manner of affections for her sake, he would reduce me to my duty by making me sensible of his resentments, and from that moment he began to use all his authority to make me submit to what he desired of me, or to expose me to those cruel crosses, under which I have so much groaned since, and by means of which I find myself in a deplorable condition.  
Philadelph related the history of his life in this manner, when the Princess Artemisa, who harkened to him with a great deal of pleasure and attention, judging that this discourse would be long, and fearing left Prince Alexander should be in some care by reason of the length of her walk, she sent Tideus to him to let him understand the truth, and to put him out of all apprehensions for her. After this order which she readily dispatched in Tideus his ear, she turned herself towards Philadelph, and after she had asked pardon for the interruption she had made in his discourse, she heard him pursue it in these terms.    

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA: OR, Love's Masterpiece. PART IU.  
LIB. IV.  
ARGUMENT.  
The King makes use of all politic, mild, and rigorous courses to divert Philadelph 's affection from Delia; but all in vain. The gentle, modest, and discreet behaviour of Delia, makes her the Court-wonder. Philadelph proffers privately to espouse her, which she refuses, till he had gained their friend's consent; and gives him some hints that her Birth was greater than be imagined. She is poisoned by some malicious instruments about the Queen. Philadelph loudly exclaims against that black Treachery, and vows not to survive her. Beyond expectation she recovers. Philadelph falls sick of a Fever. His danger softens his Father's heart, who promises him no longer to oppose his Love, whereupon he is cured. Delia still renders the same reasons for her refusal of Hymen 's Ceremonies, and highly indears herself to the King by her virtue. Philadelph is summoned to the Median Wars. At his departure Delia gives him a paper sealed up, but forbids him to open it till he had order from herself or his Sister Andromeda. He goes on successfully in the War, and brings it to a period. He receives intelligence from his Sister that Delia was retired from Court, and had given him leave to peruse his paper. He calls for his Cabinet, but finds that by accident it was lost. He was extremely afflicted at it, betakes himself to travel, and resolves to range the world in her search. He tells Artemisa what Countries he had already traversed, and so ends his Story. The distress of an unknown Lady invites him to her rescue, which he gallantly performs. He takes leave of the Ladies, and goes on in search of his Delia. Artemisa invites the unknown Lady to her habitation, which she gratefully accepts.  
THE King in compliance to the Queen's humour, had no sooner taken the resolution to torment me, but he sent for me, and after I was come into his presence, receiving me with a frowning countenance: The cheer, said he, which you have put upon me is discovered to your confusion, and if you had had as much obedience as the Princess Urania, you would not have exposed me to the displeasure which I have lately received: That Princess submits herself, as her duty is, to the will of the Queen her Mother, and you do not render what is due to your Father, though the things which he desires of you are only for your own advantage. We know now Philadelph, the truth which you concealed from us, and we are no longer ignorant what the subject of your disobedience is: This is not that which I expected from the inclinations which I thought I observed in you, and from the education you have received; and these base thoughts whereby you disgrace the beginnings of your life, give a sensible displeasure to those who had established their dearest hopes upon you. Reflect upon it in good earnest, and with a resolution worthy of your birth, discard these uncommendable affections, whereby you will expose yourself to your Father's anger, and the scorn of the whole world.  
The King spoke to me in this manner, walking up and down with such an action as signified his displeasure, and I continued unmoveable, with my eyes cast down, and in an uncertainty what answer I should make him: I had a mind at first to dissemble still with him, and to deny my passion, hoping that in time I might work his spirit to a sweeter temper, and bring him insensibly to give permission to it: but in fine, I perceived that there was little likelihood for me to hope so; and besides that, it was impossible to conceal that from him any longer, which was come to the knowledge of the whole Court, and that it could not remain secret any longer, if I did not forbear visiting Delia, I believed that that fair person was very worthy of my owning, and that she might justly be offended if I did any longer stifle the thoughts I had for her: upon this account, beholding the King with greater assurance than before, Sir, said I, the fear I had to displease you, hath hitherto constrained me to disguise the truth from you, and if I had not a great deal of confidence in your goodness, I should never have had the boldness to confess it to you: 'Tis true Sir, I have failed, if to love the most beautiful and amiable creature that ever the Gods sent into the world, without your command, be to commit a fault: but this fault was not voluntary, and all the considerations I could have, were not strong enough to defend me against the powers of Delia. If you, said the King, had opposed any virtue against the birth of this passion, you would have preserved yourself from it, and you might have fortified yourself, if you would have made use of them, with good examples, and noble education, so as not to suffer your mind to be overswayed by vicious inclinations: Vice, replied I, hath no intermixture with those inclinations which I have for Delia, & if her virtue which she possesses possibly in an higher degree than ever person did, were known to your Majesty, without doubt you would never judge injuriously of it: She never inspired me with any thoughts which were not very conformable to it, and I shall never have more respectful conceits, nor more advantageous intentions for the greatest Princess upon earth, than I have for Delia. And what are your intentions, added the King, with a more severe countenance than before, have you a design to Marry her? I know too well, answered I, the difference I owe to the will of my Father, and my King, to form these designs without his permission: but I will tell your Majesty plainly, that if I had obtained your consent, I would Marry Delia before all the Princesses upon Earth. The King stepped two or three paces backward at these words, and looking upon me with eyes full of the marks of his indignation: O Gods, said he, what is this that I understand? and what baseness do I now find in a Prince whose Father I am, and of whom I had conceived such fair hopes? What Philadelph, could you cast your eyes upon Delia, with a design to Marry her? I have told your Majesty, replied I, that I would never have that design if it were contrary to yours: but I will tell you again, if you please to give me leave, that without doubt I should marry Delia if I had your consent, and I judge her worthy of more sublime advancement than to be the Queen of Cilicia.  
The King was more amazed than before at this confirmation, and in a crowd of things which he had to say, not being able to express himself without disorder and confusion, he made divers turns about the Chamber without speaking, casting his eyes upon me every moment with an action which sufficiently expressed his choler, and after he had kept silence a while in this manner, composing his countenance upon a sudden: I know, Philadelph, said he, that I ought to inflict such punishments upon you for your fault, as might make you sensible of it, and you have not so slightly offended me, but that I might without blame let you feel the effect of my resentments against you; but I will content myself to give you such a punishment as may possibly reduce you to your duty, and I will cure you of this passion which is destructive to your repose and honour, by removing the cause of it out of your fight; to morrow, without any farther delay, I will send away this stranger from my Court, where she hath been the cause of disobedience and disorder, and I shall do her no wrong when I shall send her out of this Country, and cause her to be safely reconducted into her own.  
These words pierced my very soul with grief, but yet they increased my boldness, and I answered the King without much trouble; It is in your power, Sir, to drive Delia out of your Country, but I will not stay behind her, and into what part of the world soever she retires, I will follow her to the last moment of my life, and will never be torn from her by any violence or consideration: I shall hinder you from that well enough, added the King, enraged with choler, and I shall possibly put you in such a place, where you shall have little liberty to run after Delia. That is likewise in your power, replied I, but you shall never be able to make me live without Delia; and if you deprive me of the liberty of following her, all the authority you have cannot hinder me from dying, as without doubt I shall do if you exercise this rigour against me.  
The King was almost besides himself at this declaration, and in the violence of his choler he threw so many reproaches upon me, that the length and disorder of them hinders me from relating them; at last, when his passion had a little spent itself: Philadelph, said he, your insolence and your baseness, render you unworthy of the affection I have for you, but I shall bridle that to reduce you to your duty, get you gone out of my sight, and come no more into it, till you have disposed yourself to render what you owe me as your Father, and as your King.  
In this manner he drove me out of his presence, and I retired in such a confusion of thoughts, that for a long time after, I could not calm my spirits: yet for all that, I made a firm resolve, either to conserve my interest in Delia, or to perish, and not to recede from the desigh I had for her, for any menace, or any usage that I might receive from the King. That very evening I made a relation of all to Delia, and to the Princess Andromeda, and upon this discourse, Delia renewed the requests she had formerly made to my Sister, to give her permission to retire: but I hindered the progress of her requests, when I said to her with a countenance wherein, through the marks which a violent passion imprinted there, she might perceive the signs of a strong resolution: Delia, I have often told you, that it is in your power to leave me; but I protest to you before all the Gods, that if you show so much inhumanity to a Prince, who hath given you no cause, and if, contrary to what you owe to acknowledgement and pity, you can resolve to leave me in the shipwreck, whereinto you have thrown me, this sword shall pierce my heart in your presence, and I shall possibly mollify yours by my blood, if I cannot do it by the proofs of a passion, which upon those terms I am at with you, would not possibly be so cruelly disdained by any other person but yourself.  
Delia, if she had no sense for love, she had some for compassion, and always when I made her this discourse, she seemed to be moved at it, and did very much slack the design she had to quit us, but it was not without the testimonies of a smarting grief, that she saw herself to be the cause of our troubles, and without grand protestations of the little desire she had to contribute to them.  
In the mean while, the King, out of the affection he had for me, fearing the effect of what I had threatened, either to follow Delia, or to make an attempt upon my own life, if he deprived me of my liberty, had a design to cross me some other way, and seeing divers of his Courtiers, or almost all of them inflamed with love for Delia, he inspired them with courage to serve her, and promised them all manner of favour and assistance upon that account. He had a mind particularly to employ Antigenes one of the most amorous, and most capable to make himself beloved. He was handsome enough of his person, and he had a nimble and bold Spirit, and the King judging him fit to serve his turn in his intended purpose, promised him that if he could prevail upon Delia's spirit, and break the union which he believed was between that Maid and I, he would not only make a Match between them, but amply repair by his munificence, whatsoever the stranger wanted, so that he should have no occasion to be unsatisfied with his Fortune. With this encouragement Antigenes embarked himself in the research without repugnance, and having access to Delia, as persons of his quality usually had to the Maids that attended upon the Queen and Princess, and having already given her divers proofs of his love to no purpose, upon the hopes which the King gave him, he engaged himself more than before, and began to render his devoirs to Delia with a great deal of assiduity: at first he was somewhat reserved in his addresses, fearing to incense me against him; but when he saw how I left Delia to the liberty of her conversations, he proceeded more boldly, and declared his love, and the design he had for her, with more assurance than before; he believed that the most effectual engine he could use to advance himself in her opinion, and to serve the King's intentions, was to cry down mine, and to cashier all the hopes she could have of my affection. Upon this account he represented to her that according to all the laws of prejudice she ought not to amuse herself about me, and that I could have no designs for her, but what would prove ruinous to her reputation and fortune, that the soul of a person of my age easily took fire, and did as readily lose those impressions; and though I should have the most favourable and advantageous designs for her that could be, yet I had not the liberty of mine own actions, nor could hope that the King would any longer endure that I should bestow the expressions of my affection upon her. By this discourse, which he eternally resounded in her ears, Antigenes might have wrought something, if he had been to deal with any other spirit but Delia's: but that admirable person, though she judged that there was something of truth in what he said, yet she was not at all inclined by it to favour him, and she received the proofs of his passion with so much disdain, that unless he had been interessed by his love, and backed on by the King's promises, he would easily have been repulsed.  
There were divers others besides Antigenes, that employed themselves in the research of Delia, and besides the possession of her, the King had promised great gratuities to them who could disengage her from the pretensions which I made to her. I saw all this at the first without being moved at it, and I did not fear that Delia, whom I had found unbatterable by the proofs of my love, should surrender to those persons who were so inferior to me. But by little and little, the report came to me that Antigenes pretended to Marry her within a short time; that the King was resolved upon it, and that all things disposed themselves that way, as to a business of great certainty. This discourle struck me with a sensible displeasure, and the first I acquainted with it was Delia, to whom I complained in a very sad manner, which made her judge, that the common opinion had made some impression upon my spirit, but she satisfied me by a discourse for different from those terms which she was wont to make use of. Philadelph, said she, you do not know me yet, and you may believe, if you please, that since you honour me so much, I will never love any thing that is inferior to you. At the speaking of these few words, which she uttered with a differet air from that humility, wherewith till then, she had conformed herself to her fortune, there appeared something in her countenance of more than ordinary Grandeur, and I perceived the respect I had for her to be much augmented. I am charmed, said I, with this resolution of yours, but, O Gods! how much should I have been charmed, and into how happy a condition would you put me, if instead of making me hope that you will love nothing below me, you had promised me that you would love nothing besides me? I will not promise to love you, replied Delia, but I will tell you really, that if I am not sensible of such a Prince as you are, I believe I shall never take notice of any other persons whilst I live. These words were very innocent, yet Delia could not utter them without blushing, and they gave me a great deal of satisfaction; I confirmed her as much as I could possibly in the disdain she had for those petty Rivals, which her beauty, and the Kings will, raised up against me, and she was so naturally inclined that way, that I had no difficulty to dispose her to it.  
But a little after, the King's favour did so openly appear upon Antigenes his behalf, that though he was far from obtaining Delia's consent, all the world believed that he should Marry her, and the King having met her in the Princess' Chamber, whom he was come to visit: Fair Delia, said he, your beauty hath produced great effects in the Court, but I believe you have prudence and reason enough to discern the true Lovers you have gained, from those who have the design to deceive you. Sir, answered Delia, there will be so little advantage in deceiving a strange Maid, that I shall never suspect that any person ever had any such design; Philadelph hath such an intention, added the King, but Antigenes hath none but what is legitimate and I dare own. Delia changed colour at this discourse, with a little emotion of choler, and casting down her eyes with a disdainful action: I shall understand very well, Sir, said she, to make a difference between Antigenes and Prince Philadelph, both in respect of their intentions and of their persons. Take heed, replied the King, that you do not abuse yourself upon that account, and that for a fallacious splendour you do not abandon the true happiness you may meet withal in espousing Antigenes. I do not deserve that fortune, answered Delia with an air full of disdain, and if I must have a husband in Cilicia, it will not be such a man as Antigenes.  
The King, who saw very well that this discourse was troublesome to her was not willing to press her any farther, and though he was nettled with resentment against her, yet at the sight of her admirable beauty he could not follow his passions, nor defend himself from the respect which it imprinted in all those who were capable to take notice of it: But a little after he caused her to be importuned in favour of Antigenes, and sent her word by one of his attendants, that if she were willing to do him a pleasure, she should dispose herself to marry him within a few days: Delia made this answer to him that made her this discourse: You may tell the King, if you please, that I am too much obliged to him for the care he takes of my fortune; but that it is not in his Dominions that I desire to establish it, and that I was born under the authority of another Prince to whom I leave the disposing of it.  
I was very much satisfied with this answer of Delia's, whereby she expressed to the King the small desire she had to submit to his will: but I was so nettled at the insolent and importunate perseverance of Antigenes, that I could no longer endure it. At the first I contented myself to look scurvily upon him, and to receive him with coldness and scorn enough, whensoever he came near me: but when I saw that he made as if he was ignorant of the cause, and that instead of desisting from his design he rendered his visits to Delia more assiduously, and pressed her more obstinately than ever, I lost the consideration I had had till then of the Kings will, who openly upheld him, and meeting him one day in the Anti chamber as he came out of Delia's Chamber, I stayed him by the arm, and looking upon him with a countenance which partly discovered what I had upon my heart; Antigenes, said I, whence come you? Sir, answered he with an ill assured countenance, I come from Delia's Chamber. And what is the design, replied I, that carries you thither so often? Sir, said Antigenes, I thought you had known it, and the King hath made his inteneion so public of marrying met to Delia, that I did not believe your Highness was ignorant of it. You marry Delia, said I to him, looking scornfully upon him, you marry Delia? Antigenes was very much troubled at these words, and after that I had repeated them to him again: Do you see that Door, added I, showing him Delia's Chamber-door, I charge you never set your foot within it more, nor to speak to Delia while you live: Remember the charge I give you, and if you chance to do otherwise prepare yourself to receive death by these hands of mine. Antigenes grew pale, and trembled at this threat, not having the assurance to reply one word, and he was no sooner gone from me but he went to throw himself at the King's feet relating what had happened, and protesting to him that he had not the boldness to contest with me, nor to cross my inclinations. The King upon this discouse fell into the most violent choler that ever had possessed him, and after he had uttered part of that which his passion put into his mouth against me, and the innocent Delia, he commanded Gesippus a Captain of his guards to go find out Delia presently, and to give her order to dispose herself to depart from Tharsus within three days, and to return toward her own Country, or any other she would choose out of his dominions.  
A way went Gesippus with this order, but it was not given so secretly but that I had intelligence of it before it could be executed, and going immediately to prevent Gesippus, I met him before he had reached the Princess Andromeda's house: Gesippus, was amazed at the meeting of me: but he was much more surprised, when stopping him in his passage: Whither go you Gesippus, said I? Sir, answered Gesippus, I do not think it necessary to conceal my Commission from you, the King hath sent me to command Delia to retire: and I command you said I to him, to return immediately, and never whilst you live to take any such commissions: I cannot refuse Sir, replied Gesippus, the orders of the King my Master, but since you are pleased to hinder the execution of them, what would you have me say to the King to give him an account of the charge which he hath given me? Tell him, replied I, that I have taken your Commission upon myself, and that Delia will receive the dismission they give her more handsomely from my mouth than from yours, that I will spare her the shame to see herself banished from a place which she hath too much honoured with her presence, and that she will willingly quit this place so unworthy of her, though he do not employ his authority to drive her away. The King, added Gesippus, offers her all necessaries for her conduct, and hath commanded me to tell her, that he will give her his assistance to return into her own Country. The King is too officious, replied I, and Delia hath no need of his assistances: she shall never want conduct nor Conductor; and you may tell the King that by the order he hath given you, he hath driven away Delia and his Son too for ever, and seeing that I have neither the intention nor the power to make Delia continue in his Dominions against his will, I shall inseparably follow her, and never leave her to the last moment of my life. Ah! Sir, answered Gesippus, what a kind of resolution is yours? I desire none of your Counsel, said I, go your way and let me have no more replies. Gesippus went from me without answering, and went to give the King an account of the truth how I had hindered the execution of his orders.  
I retired myself to my apartment, knowing myself to be in too bad a condition to present myself to Delia, and not desiring to acquaint her with the King's intention, for fear of confirming her in the desire she had to leave us: but I passed the night in the most cruel disquiets that ever had tormented me, and the day appeared before that any sleep presented itself to my eyes. A thousand designs full of irresolution passed through my fancy, but I pitched only upon this, to endure all things rather than to abandon Delia, and never to separate myself from her to my very last gasp. Cruel Father, said I, thy authority signifies little in opposing a heart, which acknowledges no other power but Delia 's, and whatsoever command nature given thee over me shall never obtain that from me which thou exactest with so much tyranny. Ab Delia! how much rather would I suffer a thousand deaths, than lose the will I have to be eternally yours for one moment? and how much rather would I lose all the pretensions which I have to the Crown of Cilicia, or that I can have to my life itself, than the desire I have to be always your faithful servant? That fair image graved in eternal characters in the middle of my heart, will expel from thence all other impressions that an unjust authority would form there, and in brief there is no duty nor obedience that can stand in competition with the powers of my Delia.  
The next morning I was hardly ready when Adrastus entered my chamber; he was a man who had sometimes been my Governor, and who afterwards by his virtue rendered himself one of the most considerable persons in Cilicia, in the opinion of the King and of the whole Court; I had a particular esteem for him, and expected some consolation from his sight, when saluting me with a visage which signified little satisfaction: Sir, said he, I have lately left the King in such a choler against you as will difficultly be appeased by you, if you do not conform your intentions unto his: and your hindering of the order which he gave to Gesippus, hath put him into the strangest humour that I ever saw him in my life: in the first eruptions of his indignation he fell upon resolutions which would have created you a great deal of trouble, and he is not pacified but upon the hope we have given him, that for the future you will carry yourself with more compliance to his will: Upon this hope, Sir, I have taken upon me a charge which he would have given to others, not, as you may well judge, to seek occasions to displease you, but to acquaint you more mildly with a thing which possibly would incense you more if you understood it from any other mouth than mine: What is that Adrastus, said he to him with precipitation, and what intentions can the King have against me more cruel than what he hath declared? His will is, replied Adrastus that you should see Delia no more, and he hath commanded me to forbid you to do it upon pain of his eternal displeasure. Let him forbid me to live again, cried I, and he shall find more obedience in me to that prohibition, than to the other of seeing Delia. No, Adrastus, never pretend any complacency with me upon this intention of the Kings; I know he is my Father, I know he is my King, but I was not born in a condition like to the rest of his subjects, neither was I born a slave. When he shall only exact such things of me as I can do without offering violence to those inclinations which are more powerful over me than all his authority, I will obey him to the hazard of that life which I have received from him, and possibly he shall not find more deference and submission in the souls of his meanest subjects than in mine: but when he shall order me neither to love nor to see Delia more, all the power he can have over me, both as my King and as my Father, shall never oblige me to obey him: I will see Delia as long as I behold the light, though she were environed with a thousand walls, and there is but that only mean which I have proposed to hinder me from it. Sir, replied Adrastus, the first motions of such a passion as yours are excusable in a person of your age: but when you shall please to consider a little better with yourself, you will take notice, that by this perseverance in provoking the King you will throw yourself into great disorders, and you put yourself in danger of drawing great displeasures upon yourself. All the displeasures I can fear, answered I, cannot but be light in comparison of that which you propose to me, and the King cannot use me worse by all the authority he hath, than to hinder me from seeing Delia, No, Adrastus, I shall never acknowledge any thing to be more cruel whilst I live, and if you love me, you will represent to the King, that he ought not by this cruelty to cast his only son, and possibly a son that is not unworthy of his birth, into a certain despair. I will do what I can possibly, replied Adrastus, but if you would hearken to the counsel of your servants—, I am not any longer capable, said I, interrupting him, of receiving counsel, and my friends ought to interess themselves in my repose much more than in the Queen's projects, especially when my life lies at stake; in the mean while, Adrastus, do not expect any obedience from me to the command you have lately made me, I will see Delia, I will see her presently, to protest to her that all the persecutions which I suffer for her sake are sweet and glorious unto me, and to tender her those proofs of my affection, which I have not yet offered her.  
Adrastus could prevail no farther with me, & at the same time that he parted from my lodging, I went out likewise to go to Delia. Both she and the Princess, with whom she was at that time, observed immediately an extraordinary trouble upon my countenance; and as they were sufficiently troubled already with the news that was brought them concerning the order which the King had formerly given to Gesippus, and how I had hindered it, by the passion they observed in me, their astonishment was redoubled. I no sooner came to them, but addressing myself to Delia; My dear and insensible Delia, said I, all engines are set on work to undo me; and if you contribute to my misery as you have done hitherto by the little sense you have expressed of it, I am the most undone, and the most desperate Prince that ever was: they would take you from me, they forbid me to see you, and in fine, they prepare against me the most insupportable cruelty they can: Will you leave me, Delia, in these extremities, whereunto I am reduced for the love of you; and will you not give me some hope that these sufferings whereunto I will expose myself, even to death, that I may continue eternally yours, will mollify your hard heart? Ah Delia! if you be immovably resolved to look upon my miseries with a cruel indifferency, and if you have no regard of the displeasures which I will affront to preserve myself totally yours, 'tis unprofitable, 'tis unjust to spin out this deplorable life to a more tedious length, and I may in one single moment content at once both the King's cruelty and yours.  
Though this passionate discourse did not produce all the effect that I desired, yet Delia was not absolutely insensible of it, and I observed the compassion she had of me by divers marks: then casting her eyes upon my face with an action full of tenderness: You reduce me, said she, to as hard extremities as your own, and by the complacency which possibly contrary to my duty, I have for this blind passion which you have conceived for me, you put me into such a condition as possibly never Maid was in. What would you have me do to avoid your reproaches, and observe my own duty? and if your thoughts have not changed their nature, what can you desire of me at a time and upon an occasion wherein all things are contrary to your intentions? I have continued hitherto, in spite of those reasons which obliged me to be gone, of which you know not the most important, and in a place where 'tis my misfortune to be odious to those persons who have the Sovereign power: but what means have you to make me stay any longer against the Kings will, who order me to be gone, and who for your sake exposes me to the shame of seeing myself driven out of his dominions; and what blame can you lay upon me; when I shall give way to a power from which all yours cannot defend me? I will never lay any blame upon you, said I, but I will submit to your will as long as I live without murmuring: but give me leave to tell you really, that if you leave me in the condition whereunto you have reduced me, I shall breathe my last at our separation, and this soul which is totally yours, leaving this body which you disdain, cold and pale in Cilicia, will follow you into what place of the earth soever you shall address yourself.  
But what would you have me do, replied Delia, and what power have you to oppose the King your Father, or to cause me to continue in his dominions in spite of him, if I should have complacency enough to stay me her upon your consideration? I have possibly more than you believe, answered I, and I have not so little interest in the hearts of the Cilicians, but that I could arm a party of them in my favour, if the King should offer to do you any violence. I would rather, replied Delia, see myself exposed to all manner of hazards of my life, than to cause these disasters, and to kindle a war between the Father and the Son without any end or necessity. The necessity, said I, would possibly appear great enough to any spirit but yours, when my preservation is in question, and it would not be without an End, since I have purposed one to myself which you cannot disapprove, if you have not a cruel aversion to my person.  
With these words giving the last reflection upon the design I had taken, I continued some moments without speaking, in the posture of a person fixed upon important thoughts: but a little after lifting up my head, and looking upon Delia with a more assured countenance than before. Hitherto, said I, I have rendered to the King my Father what I believed was due to him by the laws of my birth, and how ardent a desire soever I had to gain you, I should have deferred my supreme and only happiness in expectation of his consent as much as it had been possible: but now since by his cruelty he dispenses with that obedience which nature hath enjoined me, I will no longer regard that unjust duty to the prejudice of my repose and life, and without any farther delay, I will tell you before my Sister, that I am ready to make you my wife as soon as you shall be disposed to receive me for your husband.  
Andromeda was quite surprised at this discourse, and she could hardly forbear expressing her astonishment by an exclamation, she looked upon me with eyes which partly signified what judgement she made of my precipitations, but Delia kept hers fixed upon the ground without seeming to be moved at my proposition, and when she had mused a while, resuming the discourse with the same coldness: Philadelph, said she, I have told you once that you do not know me, I tell you again, and protest to you that the offer of an hundred Crowns such as you present me, shall never incline me to an action contrary to my duty. What, Madam, replied I, crying out with transport, shall you offend against your duty when you receive the Prince of Cilicia for your husband, and can there be any doubt henceforward of the repugnance you have for him if you continue as insensible of the last offers he could make you, as you were of his first actions? Both your former actions, and your last offers, answered Delia, are very conformable to the opinion I have of your virtue, I am not so insensible, nor have I so much repugnance for your person, but that I would prefer it, if I may have permission to say so, before all that I have known: but, Sir, whatsoever splendour or advantage I may gain by the honour which you offer me, and whatsoever inclination I might have to receive for my husband a Prince more considerable for his qualities than for his Crown, I will never accept of him but by such ways as may preserve us from all reproach, and by the consent of those persons to whom both you and I ought to submit ourselves. Ah pitiless Delia! cried I, ah hard heart! and impenetrable by compassion, what have I left to persuade you, seeing the only means whereby I probably hoped to effect it are unprofitable, and since I find much stronger opposition in your cruelty than in the King my Fathers.  
Speaking these words with an action full of trouble, I fell upon Andromeda's bed side so feeble and so cast down, that I had scarcely any sense left. Delia did not at all change her resolution at this sight, but casting a look upon me wherein I might observe that she took some interest in my displeasure: Do not accuse me, Sir, said she, till you have a little consulted with yourself, and in stead of looking upon me as a stranger of a mean birth, and as one who ought to have a courage conformable to the fortune wherein you see her, give me leave to tell you, that my thoughts are not inferior to those that may be owned by a great Princess, and how glorious soever it be to me, you shall never obtain what you desire of me, otherwise then if you were to obtain it of the daughter of a great King. This is a resolution, Sir, from which, as unjust as it appears to you, nothing shall be able to divert me: but to let you know that I am not insensible of the obligations I have to you, I will dispose myself to endure still, for the love of you, as much as is possible for me, from the enemies which your affection hath raised me, and I will continue with Madam the Princess, as long as I can do it without reducing the differences be 'twixt you and the King your Father to extremities. You may do what you please, said I in a very languishing manner, and your thoughts are too fair to leave any force in a soul absolutely subject to you, to resist them: but you must not think it strange, if I lost the hopes which I might have conceived without offending you, and that with them I abandon all the desire I could have to live.  
Having spoken these words, I retired into my Sister's Closet, where I continued a while alone, buried in the saddest thoughts in the world. The Princess came to me a little after and forgot nothing that her amity could put into her mouth which might tend to my consolation: but whatsoever interest she took in my displeasures, she had the virtue of Delia in admiration; and reflecting upon it, she told me, that if appearances did not contradict her opinion, she should have believed that she was descended from some great King, rather than born in any meaner condition. I spent the rest of the day, either with my Sister, or in my own lodging, in such inquietudes as left me no repose, and upon the morrow I received fresh occasions, and saw my feet exposed to new crosses.  
The King having understood the small esteem I made of his prohibitions, and how that, in opposition to them, I had visited Delia the same day, fell into an extremity of choler, which made him resolve to make use of his absolute authority, and upon this design, he gave a new order to Gesippus to go and fetch Delia, either by fair or foul means from Andromeda's house, and shut her up by force in a Nunnery consecrated to Diana, into which no men were permitted to enter, and those Virgins which were once entered, were never suffered to come out again; and he gave charge to another officer at the same time to come and tell me from him, that I must take my lodging for my prison, and that he forbade me from stirring thence without his order, upon pain of disobedience.  
By the spies which I had about the King, I was presently advertised of it and upon that intelligence, I had almost flown beyond the bounds of my duty, and undertaken somewhat contrary to the expect due to my Father, which without doubt would have deserved reproach, I made myself Master of some of my resentments, but not so but that I was resolved to perish rather than endure that Delia should receive the least displeasure; and with this intention, in stead of respecting the King's orders in my lodgings, I went thence to go to the Palace before that Gesippus could execute his. I had not gone far, but I met him in the street as before, followed by a great company of the Guards, and in a condition to enterprise any business, though of some difficulty. I had, notwithstanding my disgrace, a lusty troop of men at my heels, and I was so well beloved by the Cilicians, that I had at all times a Court almost as great as the King's. I had much a do to forbear falling upon Gesippus and his companions, and the choler whereupon this rancounter had put me, made me despise all manner of considerations, if I had not been hindered by some prudent persons who were then with me; yet they could not keep me from addressing myself to Gesippus, and stopping his passage with an action which sufficiently expressed my choler: Stay, said I, and if thou lovest thy life, make not one step further, upon the design of offering me an outrage in the person of Delia: thou hadst been well advised if thou hadst received no more of these commissions, and thou wilt do but thy duty when thou returnest to tell the King that 'tis I that oppose the execution of his cruel commands.  
Sir, replied Gesippus, your Highness knows very well that I cannot disobey my Master, and I have been so ill treated for the obedience I lately yielded to your will, that I hope you will please not to take it ill, if I be more exact to day in executing the order which he had given me. I will see, replied I, looking upon him with an eye full of fury, who dares stir further against my will.  
Speaking these words, I drew my sword, and presented it to Gesippus' eyes. Gesippus grew pale at this action, and stepping a little back with a troubled countenance: Sir, said he, I know my duty to your Highness too well, not to avoid the occasions of displeasing you as much as I can possible: your Highness may reserve the orders which constrain me, if you please to take the pains to send one of your attendants to the King to represent to him the interest you take in their execution. Yes, said I, I am going to do it myself; and in the mean while, I charge you, upon pain of your life, not to make one step further towards Delia's lodgings,  
Gesippus stayed in the street with his companions, and I went to the place, where I had not been for divers days before, not having been able to dispose myself to see the King since he had begun to use me ill. I presented myself to him then, with a countenance wherein it was easy to perceive the alteration of my soul; and he no sooner saw me appear, but advancing towards me, with an action all composed of terror: What Philadelph, said he, is it thus that you obey my commands? and do you insolently present yourself before me, when I have confined you to your lodgings? I have received no such command, said I, and though I had, in the condition I am, it would not possibly have hindered me from appearing now before you. I am come Sir, continued I, with a more absolute. boldness, I am come to render you up that life which I hold of you, and to discharge my duty by such things as are in my power, since I am not permitted to do it by those you desire of me: I had much rather lay down at your feet the life which you render so unfortunate, than preserve it a time when the torments you impose upon it, cancels the obligation I might have to you for it. Satisfy yourself with that blood which I have received from you, and use this body which I throw at your feet, according to the jurisdiction you have over it; but leave my soul, which I have received from Heaven, a liberty, over which, neither as my Father nor my King, you can pretend any Empire, and do not unprofitably employ your authority to force those inclinations which acknowledge other powers than yours. This heart full of the image of Delia, will never receive any other impression; but will sooner expose itself, either by your command, or through my own despair, to the point of a thousand Swords, than render itself up to the constraint you would impose upon me.  
I had spoken more with such a vehemence as sufficiently expressed the height of my passion, if the King, who had harkened to my discourse with a great deal of impatience, had not interrupted me: O Gods! cried he, what a fortune have I to be the Father of a Son so unworthy of his Birth, a Son, who by his baseness hath cruelly deceived the opinion I had of him? Behold, vile soul, continued he, turning himself towards me, behold what a baseness thine is, and blush, if thou be'st any way capable of the shame thou dost to thy friends, and the eternal disgrace thou dost fix upon thyself: Thou preferrest some weak inclinations to an unknown Maid, before thy duty to thy Father, and that which thou owest to thine own rank and honour: And thou dost not consider, that by this weakness, thou rendrest thyself unworthy of my affections, and the Sceptre which I had destinied for thee. I shall always have that respect to your affection, replied I, that I ought to have; but though, together with the Sceptre which you intent for me, I should quit the Sovereignty of the whole world for Delia's sake; so that I might have the liberty to love and serve her, I should not be displeased to see myself reduced to the condition of acquiring Crowns by the point of my Sword. Believe this truth, Sir, from the mouth of a Prince who is not in a condition to dissemble; and assure yourself, that you will be really obliged to seek for other Successors to that Sceptre which you speak of, if you do not cease from tormenting Delia, and if you do not recall the cruel order you have given to Gesippus, and permit the Maid to continue in a place, where by her presence, she preserves your Son's life. 'Tis not for her that I interceded, Sir, she urges her departure more earnestly a thousand times than her most cruel enemies; and if she would have permitted me to attend her, neither she nor I, Sir, would have been in your Dominions: You would have received more sensible displeasures, if she had not opposed them, and you are obliged to her, Sir, not only for serving your intentions more powerfully than you yourself can do, but for punishing me too by her disdain of me, and of all that I can offer her, more severely a great deal than you could do for my disobedience. In brief, Sir, I desire either death at your hands, or the liberty to see Delia: I shall infallibly obtain either the one or the other, and I am not so fond of my life without Delia, but that I will sacrifice it at your feet, as soon as you shall deprive me of all hope of prevailing with you. I have stayed Gesippus as he was about to execute your commands, and he could not have found a passage to go and do outrage to Delia, but through my blood, he still waits upon your will, if that be not conformable to that which pity and the proximity of blood inspire you within my favour, you may be very well assured, Sir, that you are not like to have a Son long in the world.  
All the while that I spoke in this manner, and when I had one speaking too, the King walked up and down hastily, he lifted up his eyes to Heaven, and stamped with his foot, and by all the gestures of his countenance, expressed his indignation, and the divers agitations of his soul. The small disposition he saw in me to follow his inclinations, and to satisfy the Queen's desires by whom he was daily tormented, put him into so much choler, as made him partly forget what the nearness of blood presented to him on my behalf, and carried him out to more cruel resolutions than the former: but at last, as he really loved me, and had placed all his hopes in me alone as his only Son, he feared likewise the Tragical effects of my passion, and perceived himself inclined to some indulgence towards me in spite of his own heart. After that his irresolutions had a long time appeared in his countenance, he turned himself suddenly towards me, and breaking his long continued silence: If I should hearken to reason, said he to me, rather than to fatherly infirmity, which I cannot well resist, I should make thee suffer such exemplary punishments as are due to thy disobedience, rebellion and baseness: but I will give thee a few days longer to reduce thyself to thy duty with less violence, and to experiment whether thou canst do that by thy virtue, which at last I will do by my authority, when I perceive that my indulgence is unprofitable.  
Having spoken these words, after he had commanded Gesippus to retire, he entered into his Cabinet without entertaining any longer discourse with me.  
I saw Delia a little after, and told her all that was passed, not being able to conceal any thing from her, and I found her in her ordinary humour, from which she could never be unfixed upon any consideration. Some days passed without any great Crosses as to me, and the King's choler, though it was not extinguished, seemed yet to be a little pacified: He saw the Princess my Sister, upon whom he cast a very severe countenance, and made a very sharp complaint of her favouring me in my foolish affections. Andromeda apologized for herself, and protested to the King that it was none of her fault that my mind was not cured, and that she employed all her persuasions to reduce me to the obedience I owed to him. You should then, said the King, have sent Delia away from you, since you knew that it was my design, and you know well you cannot retain her, contrary to my intention, without displeasing me. Sir, replied Andromeda, I could not quit myself of Delia, without making you lose the Prince my Brother, and if your Majesty had seen the condition wherein he appeared to us every time I proposed it to him, and that Delia pressed me to give her leave to be gone, without doubt you would have judged as well as I, that you could not deprive him of Delia without taking away his life. But Andromeda, answered the King, your Brother has a design to marry her, and that Maid, who receives too much honour by being in your service, raiseth her pretensions already to the Marriage of your Brother, and to the Crown of your Ancestors. I know not, said the Princess, whether my Brother hath any such intention, but I can justly answer you for Delia, that she will never give her consent without you, and all those persons whom her birth hath given any command over her, agree to it. Whatsoever her Parents are, added the King, they will easily agree to this alliance, and without their consent or mine, a Crown hath lustre enough to dazzle the eyes of a more constant mind than that Maid is of. You are not yet acquainted with her, Sir, replied Andromeda, and she doth so much despise that dignity which you suppose is capable to blind her, that it will never oblige her to any the least complacence towards it as long as she lives.  
The King admired at Delia's virtue, but his admiration reached no further than to astonishment; and he did not cease to make me be tormented, to tear that passion out of my soul by all manner of ways. I hardly visited Urania any more; and if at any time I happened in her company, I entertained her only with words of respect, without intermingling any thing of love. The Queen was so moved with despite at it, that not being able to dissemble it, she spoke no more to me, and looked upon me no otherwise than as an enemy; but she continually whispered in the King's ears, that could not connive at the slight esteem I made of his will, without entirely abandoning his authority, and that he ought by all means to hinder me from making that unknown Maid, Queen of the Cilicians. She was not only of a proud and malicious nature, but she had bad Spirits about her, and I believe it was by their solicitation that I received the displeasure to which I saw myself exposed a few days after.  
The King, after he had tried divers means in vain to cure me of my passion, at last despaired of doing it, and either out of the resentment he had of it, or by the pernicious counsels of interessed persons, he permitted his spirit to be inclined to things contrary to his nature, through the desire he had to retire my heart from its agreeable servitude: those, who to please him, or to follow their own inclinations, had engaged themselves in Delia's service, appeared no more, and after the public declaration of my love and usage I had showed Antigenes, there was none so bold as to present himself to her. I visited Delia oftener than before; I had quitted all other care and thought but for her, and yet I could make no other acquest upon her spirit but of esteem and a little compassion, at such time when I was likely to lose her for ever by an accident, or rather an attempt, which I cannot call to mind without trouble.  
I was in bed, and it was about break of day, when one of Andromeda's Officers came to my Chamber door, and having desired hastily to speak with me, he told me that the Princess had sent him to me to advertise me that Delia was a dying, and that she had been tormented part of the night with such violent pains, and was in so bad a condition at that instant, that it might be easily perceived that there was something extraordinary in her distemper. Being surprised and amazed with this news, as you may well imagine, I made myself ready, and flew out of Chamber to my Sister's Lodgings. The first person that I met with at the entrance of Delia's Chamber, was her Sister, who running to me with loud acclamations: Ah! Sir, said she to me, Delia is a dying, Delia is poisoned. These words having redoubled my confusion, I entered into the Chamber in a very great perplexity. Delia's bed was environed by divers persons, and the Princess my Sister being interessed in this Maid's health by the friendship she had for me, and that she bore her herself, had not stirred from her pillow since the beginning of her being sick, and had sent for her Physicians and mine, by whose report we knew that Delia was poisoned. None of them had spared any care to give her help, and they knew well enough that my life depended upon hers, which made them to neglect nothing which might tend to her preservation: but the poison was so violent, and had already produced such grand effects, that Delia's complexion, as vigorous as it was, was not able to resist it, and in the opinion of those who served her, there remained then but little hope of her life.  
I approached her bed more like a dead than a living person, and I saw her in such a condition as would have split not only Philadelph's, but the cruelest Tigers heart with pity. The force of the poison had changed the admirable whiteness of her countenance, into a colour as pale and wan as lead, her eyes were dull and heavy; and her lips being dry and parched, in stead of their ordinary carnation, were covered with a deadly paleness. Yet in this condition she seemed very fair to me, and no change could hide her natural beauty from my eyes; her fight was good still, and her reason and remembrance was still perfect. At the noise they made when I came near her bed, she turned her eyes towards me, and seeing me in a case as worthy of pity as her own: Prince, said she, with an assured voice, I must die; and this culpable Delia hath caused too many disorders in your Family not to be punished for them. These words were more capable of giving me my death, than the arms of my most cruel enemies, had no answer, and grief had seized upon me with so absolute a power, that having no strength to resist it, I fell into a swoon between their arms who stood near me.  
Delia, though dying as she was, interessed herself in my sad condition, and as I understood afterwards, she expressed almost more resentment for my displeasure, than she did for her own: by the assistance of those persons who employed themselves about me, I recovered my senses at the last, and having crept along with a staggering pace to Delia's bedside, from whence they had taken me, I no sooner saw her again, throwing myself upon my knees before her bed, and taking hold of her hand which burned like fire, whereupon I fixed my mouth with greater liberty than I had taken before, I expressed my grief to her with cries and sobs, not being able to express one distinct word: she being moved with pity at my action, after she had made some unprofitable endeavours to draw her hand from betwixt mine: Sir, said she, you must be resolved, and you ought to make use of your courage to give yourself consolation in a disaster wherein you would need none, if you would but employ your reason. Delia does not merit the regret you express for her loss, as she did not deserve your affection, and by her death she will restore quietness to your Family, and to your mind, from whence she had innocently driven it. I pay that tribute to nature which we owe her, and if they hasten my end a few days, I cannot hate them that render me that office, when I consider the miseries whereunto my life hath been exposed, and the intention they have had of procuring the good of the state, and your particular good by my death. Pardon them after my example, if you love me, and do not for the Maid's sake exceed the bounds which nature and your virtue prescribe.  
She would have said more if I could have suffered it, and if I had not interrupted her by rising up before her with transport: No Delia, said I, no Delia, never hope for that from me, neither expect a base obedience from him whom you do not leave in a condition to take notice what he owes to nature, virtue, or your will. The cruel wretches shall die who tear away my life by an inhumanity and perfideousness without example; and I will throw death into the bosom of mine own Father, if Delia be not preserved for me. This is my resolution, from which all the considerations in the world shall never startle me, and I desire of the Gods to live no longer after you, than to put it in execution; and when I shall have given myself this reparation, I know how, Delia, to sacrifice myself upon the tomb whereunto I unfortunately draw you by the love I have for you.  
After I had spoken these words, turning towards those which were employed about her cure, and had already given her some remedies: My friends, said I, either you must cure Delia, or dispatch Philadelph, and for the recompense which you ought to expect for that action, cast your eyes upon whatsoever is most precious in my power, and if you ask but the Crown of Cilicia for Delia's health, I promise it you before all the Gods, so soon as it shall be in my power. These men who were well enough affected by me, to the hope of a great salary were much more encouraged, and employed all their skill and power to expel the poison out of that fair body; and that they might the more conveniently go about it, they prayed me to withdraw a while into the next chamber with the Princess my Sister: the Aunt and Sister of Delia stayed with them to tend her, and in the mean while I passed those cruel moments, or rather ages of torment in such a condition, as is as difficult for you to comprehend as for me to express. All the discourse that Andromeds' could make me found no attention, and I could not so much as think that Delia was ready to be taken from me by a strange death, without abandoning myself to a rage which could leave me nothing but furious resolutions. Sister, said I to the Princess, if Delia die, you will shortly be left alone in the royal family of Cilicia; this cruel father who precipitates me to my grave, shall show me the way thither himself, and with the same sword which my hand ought to draw against this unfortunate heart, I will pierce that Barbarian's who only gave me life to make me die cruelly. These words were criminal and horrible, if they had been spoken at a time when reason had had any command upon my spirit; but in the condition I then was, all things were pardonable, and I was capable without doubt of executing whatsoever I said in the transport that possessed me.  
In brief, I made such complaints as drew tears from all that heard me, and I interrupted them every moment to run to Delia's chamber door to inquire news of her health. Amongst those that came to me upon the report of my affliction, of whom there was a great number, seeing Adrastus, whose virtue and affection were dear to me: Adrastus, said I, with a visage which sufficiently expressed the disorder of my soul, you may tell the King that he hath found out the assured way of destroying his Son by the most cruel death that the most perfidious enemies could have invented; Tell him, that I look upon him no longer as my Father, but as upon a Tiger who tears my enteral, and pulls out my heart; Tell him that I renounce with horror and detestation all the ties of blood I have to him, and that if Delia dies, he ought to look upon his Son as a man who only desires to live to revenge her death. Adrastus and the rest shrunk their shoulders at these words, and I made them some other discourse afterwards so full of trouble, and the mark of my despair, that the most rocky souls would have been moved to compassion at it.  
At last Delia growing weaker and weaker, and believing that her last hour was come, desired to speak with me, and caused me to be called. I entered into her chamber, and drew near her bed with a feeble and ill assured pace: I fell upon my knees by her, so forlorn and cast down, that I was hardly able to hearken to what she had to say to me: yet I did my endeavour, and Delia likewise striving to express her intentions with the little strength she had left: Philadelph said she, I should die with some regret, if I should leave you in the belief that I have been insensible of your affection, and I have observed so much purity and so much virtue in it, that nothing could hinder me from the acknoledgement that is due to you: I protest to you before those Gods whose will it is to snatch me from you, that I have esteemed you more than all the persons in the world; and that if it had been in my power to express my more particular thoughts, and to accept the offers which you made me, I should have made you lose the opinion you have always had of my ingratitude to you: this is a declaration which I owe to truth, and to the end that you may find satisfaction in it, I will make you one more which I owe to your affection before I die, wherein possibly you may find justifications against the reproaches that might be laid upon you for having too much debased your thoughts. No Philadelph, continued she with a great deal of pain, Delia was not so unworthy of your affection as the King your Father imagined, neither have you sinned so much against yourself, that either you or any of your relations need be ashamed after my death, of the resentments you have had for me; you have possibly rendered that to me before you knew me, which was partly due to me: and though you see me a stranger, and abandoned by Fortune, yet at the period of my life where I now feel myself arrived, I will tell you—  
She could hardly finish these words, and when she would have proceeded she was hindered by violent fits, accompanied with such cruel convulsions, that I made no doubt but that she was ready to breathe her last. Then I fell upon her bed embracing her knees with such transports of love, as brought my soul every moment to my lips, and when I was constrained to leave her, to give them leave to give her their last assistance, I tore my face and rend my hair, and did a thousand actions so full of rage and despair, that my best friends trembled, and did not think themselves safe near me. Delia cried I, Delia, stay for me, or let me go before thee to the grave: thou canst not leave me without cruelty, and if I did not owe the remainders of my life to thy vengeance, I would instantly lead thee the way to that death which ought to be common to us both.  
I was in this condition when they presented a man to me from the King, who sent to inquire concerning me; I could hardly forbear from flying in the face of that hateful messenger, and having been held back by those which were near me, I took him by the arm, and leading him to Delia's bed in a very terrible fashion: See, said I, see the condition wherein I am, by that wherein thou seest this innocent Victim of thy Master's cruelty: tell that Barbarian, tell that Monster that he should come and glut his eyes with this agreeable spectable; he will receive a double satisfaction, in seeing both her which innocently crossed his intentions, and him who of his Son is now become his most cruel enemy, die here before his face. Sir, replied the man all amazed, and moved with tenderness at what be saw: You do the King your Father great wrong to accuse him of this cruelty, he doth not only protest before all the Gods that he is innocent of it, but he hath solemnly sworn that if he can discover who are culpable of it, he will cause them to be punished without any consideration. I made no answer to these words, nor hardly gave any attention to them, being so intent upon Delia, in whom at that time nature was at its utmost plunge, that I was not capable of any rational discourse.  
The Princess my Sister, and those who were most affectionate to me had drawn me by force into the next chamber, and I had stayed there above an hour in such transports and impatiencies as you may imagine, having nothing but death before my eyes in all its most horrible shapes: when by a favour of Heaven which I expected not, my fortune began to change, and one of the men who was employed in waiting upon Delia, entering hastily into my Chamber: Courage Sir, said he, Delia may do well. I made a cry at this discourse which sufficiently expressed the speedy effect it had wrought upon my spirit; and running to the chamber door like a mad man, I learned that after strong agonies Delia had begun to vomit up the poison, and that by the virtues of the remedies which they had given her, they hoped shortly to expel it all. This success was conformable to their hopes; and not to detain you any longer with this tedious passage, I will tell you, that a little after, Delia having cast out all the poison, found herself in so good a condition, that the Physicians assured me of her life. Certainly never was a Prince's pardon more sweet to Criminals who already beheld the sad preparations of death, than that assurance was to my spirit, which they gave me of the safety of my Delia, and those from whom I received it, received testimonies of it which might make them remember my acknowledgement as long as they lived.  
Delia saw herself restored to a quiet condition, those violent pains wherewith she had been tormented ceased by little and little, her eyes partly recovered their accustomed brightness, the pale wan colour wherewith her fair face was covered went away, and if she did not presently regain all her beauties, at least all the designs of death disappeared, and we saw such a change in her as put us out of all apprehensions of danger. O Gods! how was I ravished at that time, and what discourse can be able to make you comprehend the transports of joy to which I abandoned myself? I was in such an ecstasy that I could not frame any rational discourse, and embracing Delia's knees with passion much different from those I felt a little before: Delia, said I, my dear Delia, you are restored to me, and the Gods have snatched you out of the arms of death, to leave you entirely to me, I know not, replied Delia, to what intent they preserve me: but the affliction you had for my death, makes me receive the life they leave me with more satisfaction than I should have received it upon my own single interest. These words full of acknowledgement and goodness transported me to new ravishments, and looking upon Delia with eyes inflamed with love, Ah! Delia, said I with a sigh, seeing the Gods render you to me, and that 'tis at my prayers rather than yours, which were less ardent, and less passionate, that they restore your life, will you render the miracle which they do only in my favour useless to me? and will you henceforward oppose any obstacle to a felicity for which Heaven hath openly declared itself? Do you not see that the pity of Heaven hath exceeded yours, and would show you by its example what compassion you should show to me? I had some other disdiscourse with her upon this subject, and Delia having patiently harkened to me, gave me her hand, and with a favour which she was not won't to do me, pressing one of mine: Prince, said she to me, I am obliged to your affection, and I have received such pregnant proofs of it this day, that I should be the most ingrateful person in the world, if ever I should lose the remembrance of it: Assure yourself I will preserve it more dearly than my life, and whensoever it shall be in my power to express my acknowledgement, I shall do it with all my heart: Some reasons oppose it at the present which you would not condemn if they were known to you: but if I ever find myself in a condition that I may declare my thoughts to you without reproach, I promise you before the Gods, that I will free you from all those subjects of complaint which you suppose you have against me.  
I satisfied myself with these words the best I could, but I did not understand them, and calling to mind, by the likeness of it, the discourse which she had begun when she supposed she was ready to die, and was interrupted by the violence of her pain, I requested her to proceed, and prayed her as earnestly as I could possibly, that she would perfect the discovery of her heart to me, and not repent herself, now I might make use of them, of the good intentions she had for me, at that moment when by reason of our approaching death I had lost all hope of enjoying them. Delia continued a while without reply, and then on a sudden turning her eyes upon my face with a sigh: Philadelph, said she, I know not what it is you desire of me, and I if made you any more particular discourse, either the force of my distemper disturbed my senses, or took away the memory of it since, for I do not remember it. Whether she spoke truth, or would not trust me any farther with her secret, I did not press her any farther for fear of displeasing her; and immediately after the Physicians having told me that by reason of the violent fits she had had, she had need of some repose, we retired into the Princess' Chamber, who was little less interessed in the sickness and cure of Delia than myself.  
The night was already come, and all that day I had eaten nothing, but then I supped with Andromeda, and a little after I retired to my apartment, where I took some repose. The next day Delia grew a great deal better, and we understood with much joy that within a few days she might leave her bed. Though I was moved with a just resentment at the attempt they had made upon her life, and burned with a desire of revenging myself upon the Authors, the fear I had to discover the shame of our house, and to find the King culpable of so black an action, hindered me from making strict inquisition after it: and the King, whom I believed thenceforth to be innocent of it, and who had protested to do justice, suspecting the Queen for it, not without great probability, was afraid of the success of the business on her behalf, if he should prosecute it any farther: but not being able to take my revenge upon those cruel persons, I resolved at least to hinder the new effects of their cruelty, and as long as Delia kept her bed, I would not suffer her to take any nourishment but what I first tasted of myself, letting those poisoners know by that precaution, that they could not attempt upon her life without taking away of mine.  
In the mean time I saw not the King, and the resentments which my suspicions had caused in me against him would have lasted a long time, if the same day that Delia left her bed, in the effects which my displeasures had produced both in my body and mind, had not thrown me into a violent Fever. I neglected my distemper at first, but within a few days it so augmented, that the Physicians began to be in fear of my life: In effect I had so tormented myself for Delia's sickness, that my body could hardly choose but suffer for it, and I had continued too long subject to such passions as deprived me of repose, not to receive some alteration in my health: However it was, or whatsoever might be the cause, but I was so ill within a few days, that they were in no less fear for me, than before they had been for Delia. The King out of the real affection he had for me dissipated the hardness of his heart, and came to visit me every day, but as I accused him alone for my sickness and all the displeasures which had caused it, so I could not willingly see him, and I received his visits with little satisfaction. The Queen herself to please him, visited me divers times, and the Princess Urania, who bore her company, whatsoever cause of resentment she might have against me, out of an inclination worthy of herself, and purely generous, was afflicted at my sickness, and interessed herself in the return of my health. Andromeda never stirred from my pillow, and for my greater comfort Delia, pale as she was after her late sickness, was often other with her. One day that she was by my bedside desiring to animate me to a recovery: What Sir, said she, will you make no resistance against your disease for their sakes who desire your health, and did you only interess yourself so much in mine, to cause me a too just displeasure by the absence of your own? Ah! Delia, replied I, with divers sighs, the Gods have taken notice that my sufferings were uncapable of prevailing with you, and it hath been their will at last to put me into a condition which might move your pity: I will not tell you that I die for you, that discourse would have some appearance of a reproach, and Heaven is my witness that I have no intention to make you any: but I will tell you, and truly too, that I should receive death, from what cause soever it might proceed, with a great deal of resignation, if by it I should not lose the means of seeing and serving you, or if thereby I might draw from you more particular thoughts for me, than those which you have discovered to me, and if they were expressed to me by some efforts which proceeded from a little love, as now they proceeded from your goodness only.  
Delia at these words looked upon me with an eye full of the marks of her compassion, and laying one of her fair hands upon mine which I held out of the bed: Sir, said she, in the name of the Gods do not accuse me, that the reasons which might justify me to you are unknown to you: you shall know them as soon as I shall be permitted to discover them to you, and in the mean time, believe with all manner of certainty, that I will rather lose my life a thousand times, than fail in the acknowledgement of your affections: I only desire you to have a little patience; if you love me, you will prevail so far with yourself for my sake, and I protest to you before the Gods who hear us, that as soon as I shall be in a capacity to declare so much to you without meriting your disdain, you shall know that all my inclinations have not proceeded from good nature and compassion only: I tell you more than with decency I may, continued she with a little blush, but I will pass by that for the repose of a Prince to whom I owe a great deal more. The real love and respect I had for Delia made me find some comfort in these words, and lifting her hand to my mouth, though she endeavoured to hinder me: I will not die, said I, seeing there is some hope left, I will preserve my life if it be possible, since you do not esteem of it as a thing indifferent.  
Delia was not willing to make me speak any more for fear of doing me hurt, and after she had confirmed to me what she had said by a gracious look, she retired herself. She was scarcely out of the Chamber but the King came in, and having understood before he came near my bed, that my disease grew every day worse and worse, and that without flattering him, they could not conceal from him that I was in great danger, he drew near me full of tenderness, and having found me in a worse condition than they had represented to him, after he was fate by the side of my bed, and had taken one of my hands which he pressed a great while between his without speaking: My Son, said he, is it possible that you will let yourself die? 'Tis time to die, answered I, since my life is odious to you. Ah! Philadelph, cried the King, with tears that came into his eyes with that approach, take heed the Gods do not punish you for the outrage you do me, and believe the protestation which I make you before them, that my own life is not so dear to me as yours. Ah! Sir, said I, if that were so, you would not have abandoned it those torments which have reduced it to that extremity you see, and you would not see your Son ready to die under the cruel persecutions you have made him suffer. No Sir, continued I, struggling with my weakness to express my resentments, No Sir, I could not live without Delia, and seeing I was not permitted to think upon her, without disobeying you, and throwing her into the danger wherein I saw her a few days since, I have been willing to prevent this misfortune, and the continuance of my disobedience, by a death which is the dearer to me, and which I heartily embrace, since by that I shall be freed from the miseries to which my life was exposed. I leave it without any other regret than this, that it hath been disagreeable to you, and I quit it the more willingly, because it would be impossible for me to preserve it without the hope of bestowing it absolutely upon Delia.  
I uttered these words with a vehemence above my strength, and the King having harkened to them with a great deal of grief and tenderness, fixed his eyes upon the ground, and continued a long while without being able to reply: At last, after a great contest in his spirit, having taken his resolution, and turning his eyes towards me: Philadelph, said he, 'tis true, I opposed the passion you had for Delia, after I knew she did not only divert you from the designs I had for you, but likewise that you had an intention to marry a strange unknown Maid, of so different a birth from your own: the reasons I had for it were so great, that if you had never so little reason left yourself, you could not disapprove of them, and they are so well known to you, that it is not necessary for me to repeat them: No Philadelph, there is no Father but would have done as much at least, and would have employed his authority more publicly to divert his only Son, and the Heir of a great Kingdom, from a Marriage so unequal, and unsuitable to his dignity; Philadelph, I would still give part of my Dominions, to wean you from this resolution if it were possible, and if you could disengage yourself from your passion, you should know that I have a very rational interest in it to desire to hinder the prejudicial effects of it: but if it be impossible for you to live without Delia, and if by Delia's means only I can preserve my Son, I will close my eyes to all reasons of State to save him, and I had rather be blamed by my Subjects and Neighbours for this indulgence, than to be any longer in danger of losing my Son. Recover upon this assurance, and receive the inviolable promise I give you, that if after your recovery Delia be necessary for the preservation of your life or repose, I will no longer oppose the affection and design you have for her.  
At these words of the King I was seized with a transport of joy, which in spite of the paleness which my sickness had caused, was easily seen in my countenance, and taking hold of the King's hand, which I kissed divers times with ravishment: Ah! Sir, said I, 'tis this day that I acknowledge you to be my Father, and I am a thousand times more obliged to you for this second life which you give me, than for the first: 'Tis certain, Sir, that the grace you do me, is necessary for the preservation of my life, and that it is impossible for me to live without Delia: but, Sir, I may protest to you in requital of this goodness, that you will never have cause to repent of it, and whatsoever violence you offer for my sake to those considerations which my passion doth not permit me to take notice of, you will find your recompense, Sir, in the acknowledgement of Delia, and that strange Maid is endued with such qualities, that her virtue will be one day more dear to you than all the alliances you could make with your neighbours.  
I should have said more, if the King, who saw that I flew at random, had not hindered me and retired, after he had confirmed by oath the promise he had made me. I was so satisfied with it, that all the sickness of my body was dissipated by the contentment of my mind, and it contributed in such a manner to my recovery, that the next night my Fever, in stead of being augmented by this days excess, diminished very much, and the Physicians by this amendment, conceived such hopes of my life, that they almost certainly assured the King of it. The satisfaction he received upon that account, confirmed him in the design he had conceived in my favour, and the same day, having met Delia in my Sister's company, after he had accosted her with a countenance very different from what he had formerly shown her: Fair Delia, said he, I have disputed your conquest too long with you, but I will do so no more; you are worthy of my Son, and I leave him entirely to you as soon as he is recovered of his malady. Delia blushed at these expressions of the Kings, but she received them with a great deal of moderation, and replied without being moved: The gift of such a Prince as Philadelph cannot be but very precious to a person who esteems his merit and affection as she ought and if I were as free as he is now through your goodness, I would let him know by all means possible that I am not ingrateful to the obligation I have to him. What Delia, added the King, are not you free to express your resentments to my Son in the design he hath for you, and have not you liberty enough to gain Philadelph, and a Crown too boot? 'Tis not his Crown, answered Delia, that I look upon; but I sufficiently esteem his person to grant him any thing I may, without any other pretention, if my duty did not bind me to render that to my friends in my own Country which he renders here to his, and to desire of them the consent which the Prince had obtained of your Majesty.  
The King was amazed at this discourse, and looking upon Delia with admiration: O Delia, cried he, O Delia! 'tis this day that I acknowledge that you are worthy to be my Daughter, and for that Virtue's sake which you discover to me, I shall never repent whilst I live of my indulgence to my Son.  
See how the face of things was changed. From that day forward the King having begun to take real notice of the virtue of Delia, conceived such an esteem of her, as made him a little after desire that which before he had so much feared and so much opposed, and in stead of hindering it, as he had formerly done, he saw himself reduced by the desire he had of my recovery and repose, to entreat Delia every day to love me, and to offer her the Succession of a Crown which she slighted, as not having charms enough to stagger her from the least of her resolutions. The Queen seeing this change, and being extraordinarily nettled at the injury which she supposed was done to her Daughter, would not suffer her to continue any longer in Cilicia, but sent her back with a stately equipage to King Archelaus her Brother, who had sent for her divers times. She saw me before her departure contrary to the Queen's intentions, she graciously received my last excuses, and assured me that she went away without any resentment against me.  
Not long after I saw myself perfectly recovered, and after the changing of the King's mind, finding myself free in the research of Delia, I had nothing else to contend with but herself: but than it was likewise that I met with the greatest difficulties, and though she did not seem insensible of my love, but flattered me with the sweetest hopes, yet she kept herself constantly to the proposition she had made, and to the design of expecting that from time, which, as she said, was not yet in her power. She had at that time a glorious revenge for the displeasures that the King had caused her, and if she had been of the humour to draw any advantage from this change, she would have had some pleasure to see that Prince make her every day such offers as she slighted, and to be as forward to flatter her in my favour, and to second the requests I continually made to her, as he had been eager to torment as formerly. At that time having no more complaints to make against others, I often complained of her, accusing her of her hardheartedness and ingratitude to me: but when I was most afflicted, and most dissatisfied with her, she quieted my spirit by the powerful Empire she had acquired over me, and by the confirmation of the promises she had made me. I lived in this manner enjoying the contentment of seeing her, which was permitted me with all liberty, and full of the hopes she gave, wherein, though I could comprehend nothing through the knowledge of her virtue I had a great deal of confidence, when my Fortune raised me other business and employment.  
Tygranes' King of Media, our Ally and near Kinsman, as I have already told you, being despoiled of his Kingdom by Phraates King of Parthia, or rather by the valiant Artaban, General of his Troops, who with a prodigious valour had reduced Media under his Master's Dominion, in a less time than would well have served to have seen it all, came to seek refuge among his Neighbours and Allies. He made some stay first in Cappadocia, and by the compassion which his misfortune wrought in the breast of King Archelaus, he not only obliged him to protect him, but interessed him so in his affairs, that Archelaus, a Prince of great Virtue, offered to raise an Army for his re-establishment, and to march with him in person to reinvest him in his Throne. Archelaus alone was possibly too weak to put this design in execution, and Tigranes having engaged him in this manner to his succour, came into Cilicia, believing he should find all manner of assistance in the amity of the King his Uncle. He was received at Tharsus, not as a despoiled Prince, but as if he had enjoyed his former dignity, and the King, who had always dearly loved him, treated him as if he had been his Son or his Brother, and disposed himself to render him whatsoever he might expect from his affection: he was already prepared by the news he had received of his misfortunes to assist and serve him, and during the stay he had made in Cappadocia, they had begun to make levies to that intention.  
I will not spin out this discourse into a tedious length, within a few months that Tygranes continued with us, all things were put into an handsome condition for his assistance, and Tygranes not being willing to permit that the King should make this Voyage in Person by reason of his age, and for divers other considerations, I received the commission, and disposed myself to march with Tigranes in the head of ten thousand horse, and five and twenty thousand foot, which the King gave me for this expedition. You may well judge, Madam, that it was not without regret that I prepared myself to leave Delia, and You will believe nothing but the Truth, when You shall believe that my soul was sensible of a cruel violence at this separation: I could not without a mortal grief so much as think of being so far and so long distant from her whom I could not leave for a moment, and when I reflected upon the evils which this absence would make me suffer, all my courage could hardly furnish me with resolutions enough to dispose myself to it. Besides, I left Delia in a place where a little before they had cruelly made an attempt upon her life, and though by the care the King himself took of her, and the little interest the Queen had in the business, I was almost assured on that side, yet my love making me fearful for that I loved, raised such fears in me, as all my reason was not able to destroy: but that which moved me most, was that I went from Delia without being able to oblige her to engage herself to me any more than she had done before, and understood so little of the reasons she alleged to me, and the hopes she gave me, that I could receive but a very imperfect comfort from them. For all this I must be gone, the considerations of my honour were strong enough to overcome all others, and I was of such an age as obliged me, to the prejudice of my repose, and the peril of a thousand lives, to pursue the occasions of glory which called upon me.  
Neither did I much waver in the business; but to shorten my discourse, the day came which necessitated my separation from Delia. All the time before I had solicited her in vain to declare herself in my favour more fully than she had done before, I had spared neither prayers nor tears to move her, but I could not by any expressions, either of my love or grief, remove her from her former resolution. The last day going to take my leave of her, I really sound some signs of sorrow in her countenance, and she expressed to me divers ways, that she sympathised with me in the displeasure I had to leave her. After some passionate discourses, whereby I expressed to her my just resentments: I go, Delia, said I to her, and what is most cruel and insupportable to me, I part from You without any certainty of seeing You again, and unassured of the condition I stand in your thoughts. After such testimonies of my love, as possibly would not have been ineffectual in relating to any other person but Delia, and which possibly might have prevailed with any courage but hers, I see myself as ignorant of my destiny, as I was that moment that I gave myself to you. I satisfy myself as well as I can possibly with the hopes You give me, and seeing that I shall never have any desire but what may be conformable to Your will, I endeavour to comfort myself with the expectation of a good which I cannot conceive: but Delia, I cannot vanquish my grief, and what blind confidence soever. I have in You, 'tis hard for me to take notice without a mortal displeasure, how little progress I have made upon Your spirit. I go from you with all manner of ill presages, and if my fears deceive me not, I am in great danger of never seeing you again: if it be so, Delia, I shall abandon myself to the most cruel death that ever was suffered, and You will live with the remorse of having bestowed such a recompense upon the most real and perfect that ever was.  
I had some other discourse with her upon the same subject, the length whereof hinders me from repetition, and Delia having quietly harkened to me, and endeavoured to hide some marks of pity which appeared in her countenance: Prince, said she, I will willingly endure all your reproaches without complaining, and though possibly I might deserve that you should impose some belief in me, I will expect that from you when those things you are now ignorant of are known to you. In the mean time you may go with this belief, that you have made a greater progress upon my spirit than you suppose, and I should say you had done too much in that respect, if I did not believe that I cannot be too acknowledging of your affection; I shall not be always in a condition wherein I can only satisfy you with such hopes as you cannot comprehend, and if fortune be not contrary to me, my condition will be changed at your return. I shall then be free from divers scruples which a Maid of my humour cannot tell how to overcome, and you will be at liberty to demand that of me without hurting me, which then I may grant you without fear of reproach. Give, if you please, an absolute credit to what I tell you, and receive a thing which I will trust no body with but yourself, that may in time make you change the unjust opinion you have of my humour. With these words she presented me with a paper folded up and fast sealed, and before she put it into my hand: Philadelph, said she, here is the most assured mark that I can give you of the confidence I have in you. If Fortune separate Us beyond Your intention, and you be not permitted to see me again so soon as you desire, you will find news of me in the paper which I give You, and possibly you will see things there which will not be indifferent to You: but I would have you promise me, and will repose an absolute assurance in your promise, that you will not open it till You have received permission, either by word of mouth, or by writing from the Princess your Sister, or myself: I hope You will have so much respect to the request I make You, and your Obedience in a business which may appear so slight to You, I shall look upon as an assured proof of Your affection.  
I promise You, replied I, what You desire of me, and though my Life depended upon the opening of this paper, I protest to You it shall never be opened by my will, till I receive the permission you order me. Upon these words she gave me the paper, which I carefully put up, and a little after I took leave of her, with all the demonstrations of love and grief for this separation, that could proceed from a soul inflamed like mine: I did not bid the Princess my Sister farewell, without giving her grand testimonies of my friendship and acknowledgement; but the greatest conversation I had with her, was to recommend Delia to her a thousand times, and to represent to her that my life did absolutely depend upon the care she had of her. I made the same request likewise to the King, though not with so much liberty; and after I had received his last orders I got on horseback with Tygranes, and departed out of Tharsus to march out of the Rendezvous of the Army, which was upon the frontier of Cilicia and Cappadocia, where Archelaus was to be with his. All was performed as had been propounded, the two Armies joined at the place appointed, and by this conjunction made up a body of threescore and ten thousand combatants: The interview between Archelaus and myself was performed with all manner of civility and testimonies of affection, and though to appearance he might have been dissatisfied with me for the repugnance I had to marry his Sister, yet that fair Princess herself had so handsomely apologized for me, and when we were a little more familiar, I so acquainted him with the greatness of my passion, which had hindered me from being his Brother by so many marks, that instead of being displeased with me for it, he was moved with pity at the relation I made him of my sufferings, and his inclinations being superlatively noble and generous, he highly esteemed of my preferring Delia's virtue before the most advantageous alliances. We contracted a very firm friendship, whereunto I had a great disposition at the first sight. Archelaus is a Prince of a complete person, about five or six and twenty years of age, endued with a real valour, and all the qualities that ought to accompany it.  
We marched towards Media in the head of our Army, which we commanded all three equally, though by reason of their dignity I would have rendered to the two Kings those deferences which they would not receive from me; and having coasted the frontier of Armenia, and crossed a part of Assyria, we entered into Media, where we were expected by the intelligences which Tigranes had in his Dominions; the Parthians being naturally cruel, had rendered themselves so odious there, that the Medians groaned under their Government as under a hard Captivity, and we began no sooner to appear but they showed their good intentions to their Prince all the ways they possibly could. Some Troops that opposed us upon the borders were cut in pieces without trouble, and in divers encounters which we had in the beginning of that war, the advantage remained absolutely upon our side. Few places stayed to be reduced into our hands by extremity, and after we had made ourselves Masters of those which were in our way, we marched towards the Capital City, whilst the others rendered themselves every day to their lawful Prince, and set up his Standard with such an alacrity as the like was never seen.  
All the Garrisons by their composition having liberty to retire to Artanes, who commanded in Media for the King of Parthia, and Artanes having gathered together besides, all the Forces he could raise, he form a great and powerful body of an Army, wherewith he came to meet us a days journey from Praaspa, and offered us battle. I will not describe the particulars of it to you, you shall only understand, Madam, that Fortune which a long time had been contrary to Tigranes, declared herself then in his favour, and besides that, such was the valour and good conduct of Archelaus, & I found myself animated by a spur of glory which made me do somewhat extraordinary, that though the Parthians are without doubt more valiant than the Cilicians and the Cappadocians, they were overthrown with such a general defeat that almost all of them lay dead upon the Turf, and I had the good luck, if I may speak it with modesty, to kill their General with my own hand in the head of his Troops, whilst the victory was yet doubtful.  
After the gaining of this battle, both the Capital City of the Kingdom, and all the rest after its example yielded themselves up to Tigranes, and he was already absolute in his Dominions, when we had intelligence that the King of Parthia was sending an Army against us under the conduct of Phrataphernes one of his best Captains, and that having lost Artaban, by whose valour he had gained that Crown, and whom Tigranes more feared in that war than all the Forces of his Enemies, he was resolved to come and preserve or recover in person what he had conquered by his Lieutenant: Being both eager of occasions of acquiring glory, and heated with our former victory, we marched against Phrataphernes with a great deal of joy, and Tigranes protested highly, that since Artaban was not among his Enemies, he made no doubt of the Victory.  
I pass over this relation very succinctly, Madam, as of little divertisement to you, and unnecessary in relation to the more weighty particularities you desire of me: but I plainly perceive that you expect with more curiosity that I should speak to you concerning Delia. You may well imagine, Madam, that her fair image was never absent from my memory, and that in the most dangerous occasions, the most pressing objects were not able to banish it from my remembrance not one moment; I had written to her oftentimes, but had received no Letters from her, only in those which the Princess Andromeda wrote to me, at her request she subscribed a few words, whereby she gave me such assurances as I had received from her discourse. I should not have been contented with this from any person but Delia, and I should have believed that after so many proofs of my love, and in the difference of our conditions I might have hoped for more from her: but I had clean contrary thoughts for Delia; the knowledge I had of her admirable virtue made me receive her smallest favours with an absolute satisfaction, and I had entertained as great a respect for her in my mind, as if besides her beauty and marvellous qualities she had been possessed of an hundred Diadems: I observed it myself more than I had done till then, by the religious obedience which I rendered to her will concerning the paper she had given me, and though I was tempted every day with an impatient desire of looking into it, and that I believed I might do it, and my disobedience never have been known to Delia, I respected her commands with so much reality and honesty, that I never had the boldness to infringe them. At the first I carried the paper about me, being extremely pleased to look often upon a thing that came from so dear a hand: but afterwards seeing myself urged with a desire to look into so important a secret, and distrusting that I was not able to resist it; to avoid the occasions of commiting that fault, I would no longer keep it about me, but locked it up in a Cabinet wherein I was wont to put those things which were most precious to me, expecting to receive from Delia or Andromeda the permission they made me hope for.  
In the mean time we marched against Phrataphernes, we gave him battle, and gained it as absolutely as the former; Archelaus had the same glory in the latter, by the death of the General, that I had in the former, and Tygranes made us know that it was by the default of his Fortune rather than of his Valour that he had been thrown from the Throne of his Fathers. After this Victory which perfectly reestablished Media under the power of its former Master, we advanced against Phraates, who had already set foot in that Kingdom, and came towards us full of threatenings. Archelaus and I were well pleased to march against that man, and having heard by report of the horrible cruelties which he had committed against his Father and Brothers, whom he had inhumanly butchered out of an insatiable desire of reigning alone, we had no repugnance to beat arms against a man so detestable. We hoped to come to a battle against him, and to that end we hastened towards the place where he was, with all the diligence we could possible: but he having intelligence of our Forces, which were increased by the one half, by the Medes who had taken up arms in their own defence, feared the event of the battle, and retired back to his own Kingdom; we appeared there almost as soon as he, and out of the aversion we had against his crimes, we prepared ourselves with a great deal of satisfaction, to enter into his Country, and to carry the war into the heart of his Dominions, which possibly he would have hardly resisted, if the Gods had not otherwise disposed it, and had not made use of the love which Tygranes had conceived and conserved for Elisa Princess of Parthia as a means to peace; In the formidable condition wherein he appeared to Phraates, he took his time to demand his Daughter, and though our inclinations carried us to make war against that cruel man, and to seek new occasions to acquire some reputation: yet the consideration we had of the repose of our friend, and of our people, prevailed over our order, and we consented that Tygranes whilst he held his Sword in his hand should make propositions to Phraates of peace and marriage. We were upon these terms when I received the cruel affliction which hath put me into the condition wherein you see me.  
I had received no news a long while from the Court of Cilicia, and I complained of their negligence of my repose, when there came a Messenger to me with Letters from the King and the Princess my Sister; I opened that from the Princess, and in it I found these words.  
The Princess Andromeda, to the Prince of Cilicia.  
DElia is gone from us, and you may imagine that it is with grief that I send you this news; it was with a great deal of sorrow that I saw a person go from me, who was so dear to me both for love of you and of myself: All the King's power and mine together was not capable to retain her, and we believed we should offend you more by offering her some violence to stay her here, than by leaving her at liberty to retire herself: We consented to it so much the more willingly, because she protested that the care of your repose mode her leave a place where she should never be in a capacity to testify her intentions to you, and that it was only in her own Country that you could receive the proofs of the good will she bears you: We know the place of her retreat, she only would be conducted to the Frontier of Armenia: but you may inform yourself by the paper which she gave you at your parting, and she gives you permission to look into it as soon as you have received the news of her departure.  
This was Andromeda's Letter, which I did not read but with apprehensions of fear and grief, which might easily be observed in my countenance; and I could hardly give myself time to read the Kings; which contained almost the same thing, but with greater protestations of the endeavours he had used to retain Delia; but I had recoutses to the only comfort that was left me, and being full of impatience, I called for the Cabinet wherein I had enclosed the sacred paper upon which my repose did absolutely depend. But by a terrible disaster, at the same time that I called for it, sad Messengers came into my Chamber to tell me that at the passage of a River which had overflowed its banks, where divers of my horses and men were drowned, part of my Equipage was lost, and amongst other things, that Cabinet to which I had entrusted all my happiness. At this news, Madam, I almost died in the place, and all the displeasure which the loss of the most precious thing can imprint in a soul, seized upon mine so suddenly, and put me into so strange a condition, that those which were about me, doubted whether I could live a moment in such grief as I expressed. At the first I being amazed by so unexpected a blow, silence expressed my first resentments, and I continued a while like a person besotted with a profound Lethargy: but when I began to open my eyes upon my misfortune, & it discovered itself to me in its true form, I abandoned myself to out-cries and transports, and all the expressions of an immoderate affliction. They which saw me in that condition, told me afterward that I had scarcely any thing left by which my friends might know me, and that I spoke words so far from my ordinary manner of discourse, that they feared I would quite lose my reason, and fall into the extremities of fury and despair. In my most moderate intervals, or rather when my tired body had no more strength to torment itself, complaining in such a manner as moved all those to pity that heard me: Delia, cried I, O Delia! I have lost thee then for ever, and of all that I have seen, and suffered, and hoped, there remains nothing but an eternal flame in my soul, and the Idea of a flash of lightning which hath set me on fire as it passed by, and then disappeared from my eyes for evermore. Thou hast fled from me as from the most cruel enemy, from me who would have fled from all things, yea, from life itself to follow thee, and it was in this flight that I ought to have established the hopes thou gavest me. Ah Delia, ab ingrateful and unacknowledging Delia! what will become now, through thy cruelty, of this miserable wretch whom thou exposest to the worst misfortunes? and what remedy shall he find against that devouring fire thou kindledst in his heart? what good Angel did guide him to trace out thy steps? and what favourable Star will discover to him thy retreat? But, retracted I a little after; why should I accuse Delia for the fault I have committed myself? she is not the cause that I am ignorant of that which might yield me comfort, I should know now the place of her residence, and I should possibly be more satisfied than ever I was in my life, if I had not lost all by my own negligence, and if I had not imprudently trusted to things subject to the accident which is befallen me, that which I ought to have trusted to nothing but my own heart.  
From this discourse I passed to actions which expressed a great deal of fury, and really if that may find any excuse in a just subject of displeasure, mine was pardonable enough, and my condition had something in it so strange, that it was hard to reflect upon it without being transported. I had not only lost Delia, I was not only ignorant where I might learn news of the place of her retreat, but I may truly say, that I loved more ardently than ever man had done, without knowing who it was I loved, and without having any means of coming to the knowledge of it. Delia's family, her condition, her country itself, though she had hinted the frontier of Armenia, were unknown to me, and the name of Delia was not sufficiently known in the world, that I might go seek her by the name of Delia only. I was resolved upon it for all that, and I fixed myself upon the design of seeking her throughout the whole earth, and never to receive any repose, till I had found Delia or my death.  
This resolution was pitched upon, and I caused the messenger that brought this sad news, to relate the particulars of Delia's departure, wherein I could not find any thing that might clear up my ignorance, when Archelaus and Tygranes, upon the report of my grief, the news whereof was spread all over the Camp, having left their quarters came together into my chamber, and found me in such a condition as would have made me ashamed, if I had been capable of other passions than those which absolutely possessed me at that time. I discovered my misfortune presently upon them; and as they were neither of them ignorant of the evils which were caused by love, in stead of entirely condemning my displeasure, they partly excused it, and did all that possibly they could to give me comfort: they could not approve of the design I had to go seek out Delia, and they alleged all the reasons they could devise to divert me from it: but their dissuasions were in vain, and I desired to have my head no more troubled about it, nor to see myself reduced to break through the obstacles which they would have opposed me with disposed myself to be gone without bidding them adieu; and the next morning before day, after I had written a note, wherein I prayed them to take charge of the troops I left them, and not trouble themselves at my departure, and a Letter for the King my Father, and another for the Princess Andromeda, wherein after I had reproached them with the little care they had of my safety, I protested to them, that they should never see me more before I had found Delia, I mounted on horseback, without any other company but Dion and another of my Squires, resolving to find Delia or to wander over all the world. My first design was to visit all Armenia, because Delia had made mention of it, and though the King of that Country was our mortal enemy, the danger I might incur was not capable to stay me, and in the Equipage I then was, 'twas hard for them to know me, or to suspect me to be the Prince of Cilicia.  
I will not entertain you with the particulars of my journeys, nor of the complaints which eternally proceeded out of my mouth: the relation would be endless, only be pleased to know that in Armenia, which I traveled all over, I found no person that so much as knew the name of Delia, and whatsoever description I gave of her, no person could give me any light in what I demanded. Full of grief, or rather of rage, and abandoning myself to the Gods and Fortune, I turned my course whither they were pleased to guide me, being resolved that though I saw but little probability of success in what I desired, yet I would employ my whole life in that research. Out of Armenia I entered into Assyria, which I visited quite through without rest, and to no purpose. After I had been in Assyria, I went into Syria, which I passed through from one end to the other, but in vain. I saw Tyre and Sidon, I had a sight of Phoenicia and Palaestina, and coasting the Sea, I am come into Egypt, with an intention to search exactly the most private places of this Kingdom, and if Fortune be as much my enemy here, as she hath been elsewhere, I will go to Sea, and seek among the waves, either Delia or a Shipwreck, which may give an end to my vain researches.  
This, Madam, is the narration of my life past, and the estate of my present condition; that which is passed of it hath had some crosses, and the present is deplorable; I love, without knowing the person beloved; I search, without knowing in what part of the world to seek; and my Fortune is like to a dream, of which there remains nothing in the mind but uncertain confused Ideas; She hath presented Delia to me to torment my soul, she permitted me see her till I was absolutely inflamed, and hath ravished her from me, without leaving me any light to find her again, and I should say any hope, if that were not the last of all good things that leave us, or rather is not extinguished in us but with her life. In the mean time the image of that wand'ring and unknown Delia continues in my heart, so lively represented, that the real Delia doth hardly more resemble herself, and by the force of my imagination, she is almost as present to my eyes as to my memory: this it is which often exposes me to such faults as that I committed against you, and as really I never have seen any beauty that had more conformity to Delia's than to your own, so the eternal fixing of my soul upon the memory of Delia, represents her to me in all the objects that have any similitude of her.  
In this manner the Prince of Cilicia finished the course of his Life with an admirable grace in his Relation, and the Princess Artemisa, who had not only harkened with great attention, but out of the effect which merit might produce, was particularly touched with the knowledge of his misfortunes, no sooner heard the end, but looking upon the Prince with an action which partly expressed the generous resentments she had for his displeasures. I am too much obliged to you, said she, for the pains you have taken at my request, and in requital of this goodness, I have so interessed myself in your Fortune, that they are few things but what I would do to comfort and serve you in it: but if I may be permitted to declare my thoughts upon what you have related to me, I will tell you, that according to my opinion, Delia hath disguised from you either her Name or her Country, and possibly her condition. That greatness of courage which hath appeared in all her actions, and the small esteem she made of the Crown of Cilicia, signify something much above those appearances which have deceived you; and there is little probability that that Maid esteeming your person as she did, and as she ought to do upon all considerations, would have disdained the condition you offered her, when by the King your Father's consent she might receive them without danger or reproach, if she had not been born in such a rank as engaged her to other formalities and precautions. Besides, the discourse she had begun to make you, when she thought the violence of the poison had brought her to her end, and that paper which you have unfortunately lost, wherein, without doubt, she discovered those verities she had concealed from you, do strongly confirm me in this suspicion, and make me hope on your behalf, that the Gods will render you that which you seek for under another name than that of Delia, and in another condition than that you have formerly seen her in. The Prince, whose opinion was little different from Artemisa's, was about to reply, when this discourse was interrupted by an unexpected rancounter.  
A noise which they heard not far from them, made them arise from the place where they sat, and they had no sooner turned their sight that way, but it was stayed by an object which put them in suspense, and dazzled their eyes. Two women, or rather a Divinity followed by a woman, crossed the wood with all the swiftness that their strength could lend upon their speed, and from the visage of the first, issued such rays of brightness, as maugre the distance and precipitation of her flight, struck the eyes of Artemisa and Philadelph like lightning, and cast them at first sight into thoughts of Idolatry. All the astonishment that Philadelph had had at the beauties of Delia and Artemisa, at that time was dissipated, to make room for a more just admiration at those of the marvellous Unknown; and though she passed by his eyes with so much speed, and at such a distance as gave him leave to take but imperfect notice, yet he saw enough to persuade himself that no mortal beauty could have any thing that might come near to that which appeared before his eyes. This person, whether humane or Divine, or participating of both natures, was clad in a habit beseeming Ladies of the most eminent dignity, and the Jewels wherewith it was enriched, darted sparkles into the eyes of those that beheld her as she passed by. Her Garment being of a very little Stuff, through the violence of her course swollen out behind, and lying close before to the knees of the fair Fugitive, partly discovered the form of a body, in the structure whereof Nature had employed all her sciences. By this agitation, and the motion of a little wind, which freely kissed that celestial countenance, that part of her hair that was at liberty, flying back upon her shoulders, left her cheeks quite uncovered; and the envious linen, which hid part of her neck, yielding to this violence, displayed to the face of Heaven such beauties as might Eclipse all that is there. Heaven and the winds could only be judges of them, and these miracles passed by the eyes of Artemisa and Philadelph with so much speed, that they could hardly have discerned them, if they had not been assisted by those rays which darted themselves from a far off, and easily crossing the distance which divided them, with their sparkling lights conveyed respect into their souls. O Gods! cried Artemisa first, what's that I see, and Philadelph quite buried as he was in his thoughts of Delia, dissipated all manner of remembrances at an object so extraordinary, and answering Artemisa's exclamation: 'Tis some Goddess without doubt, said he, since 'tis not Delia.  
As they uttered these words, they kept their eyes fixed upon that which still appeared to their view, though they could discern no more than the handsomeness of her proportion: when at a noise much greater than the first, having turned their head the other way, they saw two men appear on horseback completely armed, which ran at full speed upon the tract of the two Fugitives. They were not gotten so far off, but that before Philadelph and Artemisa had lost the sight of them, the two men had already overtaken them: they alighted immediately, and one of the two having left the horses to the other, ran to that fair person, and kneeling down before her embraced her knees, in all probability making some discourse to her, which by reason of their distance could not be heard by those who observed their action. The Lady turning her face from the man, oftentimes disengaged herself from his arms but she was immediately retaken, and saw herself exposed to the persecutions of a man whom she could no longer fly from.  
Hitherto Philadelph saw nothing to oblige him to interess himself in the affairs of persons that he knew not, knowing well that among those that love one another naturally there might happen differences which might produce effects not unlike to those he beheld: but a little after, the man, who, as one might imagine by his action, had entreated in vain, making him that followed him come near to hold the fair Lady, he got upon his horse, and immediately coming to her again, he held out his arms to the other who maugre her resistance and her cries did his endeavour to set her up behind him. At the sight of such an action, and the woman's cries, which reached the ears of Philadelph, his valour roused up itself, and not being able to endure the violence which was offered to a person so worthy of his protection, he called to his Squire that held his horse to come near, and instantly clapping on his Casque, he put himself in a posture to repel the outrage which they did to beauty. Sarpedon being full of courage would have gone with him: but besides his being on foot and without arms, it was Philadelphs desire that he should keep close by Artemisa, who after this example might fear some like accident, and not permitting his Squires to go from her to attend him, he hastened alone whither he was called, to the assistance of the marvellous Unknown. Artemisa was already interessed upon her behalf, and though her Maids urged her to it, she would not retire till she saw her out of danger, and from the place where she was, she attended the success, wherein according to her natural generosity she had made herself much a party.  
Philadelph came up to those Ravishers in a moment, and accosting them with an action that breathed nothing but terror: Hold Barbarians, cried he, hold. He of the two, who seemed to be, and really was the Master, turning towards Philadelph, and seeing him hard by him in a condition to oppose his designs: And what art thou, said he with a furious countenance, who comest to cross my resolutions, and to interess thyself in such affairs as thou art not called to? I am called, replied Philadelph, with a stomach as high as his, by virtue, honour, and beauty which thou highly injurest in this divine person, more worthy of the adorations of all mankind, than of the violence thou wouldst do her. Friend, added the Unknown, be not too officious to thy own cost, and go thy ways if thou be'st well advised, without informing thyself of things wherein thou hast no interest. If this Lady, answered Philadelph, will go with thee of her own accord, I will not hinder thee from carrying her away; but if thou usest force to constrain her, I will employ all my abilities to divert thee from it: Employ them rather, replied the fierce Unknown, in the defence of thine own life which thou shalt leave behind thee here as a punishment of thy foolish rashness.  
With these words he put down the Visor of his Helmet which he had lifted up, and drew out his Sword, and leaving his Companion to guard the Lady whom he contended for, he fell upon Philadelph with a great deal of fury. Philadelph, who was ready with his Sword in his hand, received him as a man whom the greatest dangers were not capable to affright, and they began a combat which quickly made the valour of them both appear to the small number of their Spectators: there seemed to be but little difference between the first blows that were given on either side: but a little after, it was easy to judge that the Unknown was inferior in strength to Philadelph; and that valiant Prince defended the justice of his cause with so much courage and vigour, that his enemy began quickly to be weakened by some wounds, yet he made his choler supply the defect of his strength, and he fought like a man that little feared death if he could not obtain the Victory. He had cause enough already to despair of it, and instead of assaulting his Enemy, he could hardly or but very weakly defend himself, when he that accompanied him, seeing the danger that he was in, and preferring his safety before the conservation of that which was entrusted to him, left the fair Lady (who with the violence of her striving had lost all her strength, or had hardly so much left as to carry her some paces off, where, through weariness, she fell upon the grass) and throwing himself upon his horse, which he had held still by the bridle, he ran to help his Master with his Sword in his hand.  
Philadelph was not troubled at the arrival of this new enemy, having courage enough to engage a greater number without being daunted, and having only opposed his shield to a blow which the other made at him as he came up to him, he gave him a thrust at the same time with such favourable success, that the Sword finding a passage at the side of his Cuirass, pierced him through his body, and tumbled him dead at his horses feet. The Prince's Squires who from the place where they were with Artemisa, saw this action, and prepared themselves to go and assist him in that unequal combat, stayed themselves when they saw that their Master had but one Enemy to deal with; and Philadelph who was filled with animosity at this soul play, flying more fiercely than before upon him that opposed him; after he had drawn some more blood from him by a fresh wound, seized upon him with a strong arm, and after some shakes he pulled him out of the saddle, and tumbled him upon the ground: he was likewise pulled down himself by his Enemy, who as he fell grasped him with all his strength; but he quickly got up and saw himself in a condition to dispatch his Enemy with ease, if he had had as much will as power to do it. Thou deservest death, said he to him, but I will not kill thee in this condition, and for the life I leave thee, thou shalt only promise me not to torment or offer violence to this fair person, or any other of her Sex. The Unknown sighing with rage and despite for the loss and shame he received, continued some while without reply. But he resolved at last out of fear of death, and promised his Enemy whatsoever he desired of him.  
After this promise, Philadelph let him rise, and helped him up again upon his horse, and let him go the same way he came: He went away full of grief and confusion, making such imprecations against Heaven and Fortune, as made Philadelph take notice of the rage that transported him.  
He was no sooner gone, but the Prince of Cilicia, who had received no wound in this Combat, turned himself towards the Lady he had succoured, and approached the place where she was, just as she, having taken a little breath, rose up from the place where she had sat, to go and thank her generous defender. Artemisa whose fears were all dissipated by the end of the combat, advanced at the same time that Philadelph did, with all persons that accompanied her, and came almost as soon as he into the presence of the admirable Unknown. They continued all amazed at this second view, and if at the first sight, and so great a distance, and in so swift a course, they had discovered brightness which dazzled their eyes, they saw themselves then opposed to a glory which they could hardly endure to look upon. Upon the opinion of a Divinity imprinted in their minds by those celestial lineaments, they had much ado to forbear falling at the feet of this person to render her adoration; and though the memory of Delia left no place for other impressions in the soul of Philadelph, and Artemisa's beauties had much of that which she admired at in others, yet this could not keep either of them from the astonishment and veneration, which so extraordinary an object might produce in most preoccupated souls.  
They continued fixed in the contemplation of this prodigy, not knowing where to begin the discourse they had to make, when the divine Unknown being less discomposed than they, addressing herself to Philadelph whom she knew to be her deliverer, and opening her mouth a thousand times more handsome than imagination can conceive, to express her resentments to him: I owe all to you, valiant man, said she, with a tone of speech that spoke something more than humane, and if your virtue did not find its recompenses in itself, I should be much ashamed that I can render so little to him, who hath hazarded so much for me, and at the peril of his own life, hath drawn me out of those cruel hands whereinto Fortune had made me fall. 'Tis certain, replied Philadelph, more ravished and confounded than before, that this action, such as it is, finds a high recompense in itself, and all the rewards that can be proposed, are infinitely below the glory I have received in rendering you this petty service. This service is not so inconsiderable, answered the Unknown, but that by it you have restored my liberty and repose, and possibly preserved my life too, and something else more precious.  
She had said more to that purpose, if the beauties of Artemisa, and the courteous reception she gave her, had not diverted her to apply herself more particularly than she had done till then, to an object so worthy of her attention. Artemisa knowing herself to be what she was, dispensed with a part of the respect which had retained her, and stretching out her arms to this miracle, which she could hardly yet behold without dazzling: Whosoever you are, said she, (for in my opinion you are rather a Goddess than a mortal person) permit me, I beseech you, to approach you with the respect that is due to you; and since I have been so happy as to be present at your passage, and possibly to contribute something to the succour you have received, do not disdain the offers I come to make you of all the services you can desire of us, and of a retreat very commodious, and safe against those enemies of yours that remain. The marvellous Unknown, who had not beheld the beauty of Artemisa without astonishment, and really found in it part of that which Artemisa admired at in hers, received her discourse and obliging offers in the handsomest manner in the world. I might have more cause than you, said she, to make those advantageous judgements of your beauty which you make of mine: I am not only a mortal person, but a person exposed to very great displeasures, and rescued by your assistances from the greatest misfortunes whereinto a Maid of my concondition could fall. I do not refuse the offers you make me, and though I could find a sure retreat in Alexandria, the obligation I have to your goodness, and the inclination I conceive for so extraordinary a person as yourself, will make me find more sweetness and consolation with you, than I could hope for in any other company. Having spoken these words, according to the liberty of her Sex, these two persons embraced each other with emotions accompanied with something more of tenderness than is usually produced by the first interview, and in the caresses of the admirable Unknown, Artemisa found such charms as insensibly stole away her heart.  
They had some discourse besides full of offers and civility on Artemisa's part, and full of expressions of acknowledgement on the part of the Unknown: but she being tired with her long course, and the pains she had taken in struggling between the arms of her Enemies, and night drawing on, Artemisa thought she ought not to let her continue any longer in a place where she might still be exposed to some disaster, and giving her her hand, she entreated her to walk with her to Tideus his house. She desired the same thing of Prince Philadelph, and pressed him as much as possibly she could to bestow some days of his company upon such persons as knew how to render what was due to his birth and merit; but the Prince was strongly fixed upon the thoughts and design which possessed him, that it would have been impossible for him to spend a day in any other employment, than of searching after Delia; and therefore making the bad humour whereinto his misfortunes had put him, his excuse, and the condition of his spirit being incapable of all company and society, he humbly besought them to dismiss him, and to give him leave to retire, if his presence were not necessary for their assistance.  
Artemisa, who upon his sight, his conservation, the relation of his life, and the marks of valour he had shown in her presence, had conceived a marvellous esteem of him, and had earnestly desired to make him known to Alexander, looked upon his departure with a great deal of regret; and the fair Unknown, who was so much obliged to him, forgot nothing at this parting that might express her resentments to him.  
Philadelph having taken his last leave of them both, mounted his horse, and took his way towards Alexandria, without so much as expressing (so great was his pre-occupation) any desire of knowing the fair persons he left behind, which might have moved that curiosity without doubt in any spirit less taken up than his.  
The fair Ladies seeing him gone, took their way towards the house; but in the little way they had to go, Artemisa viewed the marvellous Unknown a thousand times over, without being able to satisfy her sight with the prodigies which wholly took it up. Before they came to the house they saw Alexander appear, who having left Caesario a little after he had made him a relation of his Life, and being full of an amorous impatience, came to meet Artemisa.  
We will leave them a while, and pursue the relation of what had passed, and did then happen at Tyridates his house.    

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA: OR, Love's Masterpiece. PART V.  

LIB. I.  
ARGUMENT.  
Tyridates is very careful of the recovery of his wounded Guests. Coriolanus quits his Chamber first, and with Tyridates visits the valiant Stranger. By the relation of their own Stories they engage him to a recital of his Life. He speaks his Name to be Britomarus, Son of Briton a Gaul, driven out of his Country by Julius Caesar, and thereupon engaging in Pompey 's party. After whose death he takes a private retreat into Egypt, where he employs all possible care and cost in the education of his Son. The Wars in Egypt send him into Ethiopia, where Britomarus is received into Candace 's service. He falls in love with Candace, and upon that account falls out with Caesario. They fight, and Britomarus is banished. His Father and he retires into Arabia, where Briton is taken Prisoner by the wild Arabs. Britomarus' endeavours his recovery, but in vain. He goes into the Armenian Army, where by his signal valour he gains great reputation and employments. The King of Armenia takes him to his Court. He there falls in love with the Princess Arsinoe, and Cynthia, a great Court Lady, with him, Cynthia reveals her passion to Britomarus, who excuses himself as preingaged. She finds out and reveals his affection to the Princess, who receives the discovery with scorn and anger. Britomarus' returns with the King to the Wars in Media. He defeats the Army commanded by Ariston and Theomedes, kinsmen to Philadelph, and takes them Prisoners. He begs their liberty of Artaxus, and upon his refusal flies out into an high exprobration of his ingratitude. The King in a blind fury causes their heads to be cut off, whereupon Britomarus' deserts his service.  
THE officious Tyridates did so far interess himself in the health of his two illustrious Guests, and took so much care of that which they both neglected, that within a few days there visibly appeared a great amendment in their wounds: Those of Prince Coriolanus being much slighter than those of the valiant Unknown, detained him in his bed but a small time, and the cruel agitation of his spirit making him to hate repose, he had no sooner recovered part of his strength, but he desired to walk abroad and take the air. All the ease he could possibly invent to his displeasures was really necessary, and never possibly could a Soul be tormented with so violent disquiets as his: He had a spirit naturally moderate, a great courage, and firm in the proof of the hardest attempts, and besides the assuredness which he had received from Nature, he had fortified himself therein by the study of excellent Sciences, and of Philosophy wherein he had knowledge even to admiration. But with all these advantages which secured him from despair, and partly defended him against his sufferings, he had enough left to ruin an ordinary constancy, and few persons prepossessed by such a passion as his, would have been able to have supported the like affliction without falling under it. He called to mind twenty times a day all the adventures of his life wherein Cleopatra had any interest, and the marks which he had received of the affection of that Princess in a thousand occurrences; but reflecting upon her change, all the courage whereof he had given so many proofs, could hardly submit to the Empire of his reason; and in the sad effect of those pitiless thoughts which tormented him, lifting his eyes to Heaven, with a throng of sighs: Ah hard change! cried he, cruel change of the mind of Cleopatra, and of the fortune of Coriolanus!  
Sometimes from the window of his Chamber, which was the same where Queen Candace had lodged some days before, after the example of that fair Queen, he cast his eyes upon the place where the Princes which he affected had received her birth, and could not retire them from thence, without receiving by that view a sensible reviving of his displeasures. O what complaints did this object draw from his mouth, and sighs from his breast, and how difficultly did she shake off all those who put him in mind of any particular concerning Cleopatra, without giving divers testimonies of his violent resentments. Amongst the subjects of his grief, he never accounted the loss of a puissant Kingdom, which he had recovered by his valour, and lost by his ill fortune, and amongst all his complaints he hardly made so much as a slight mention of it.  
Tyridates who was acquainted with all the accidents of his life, endeavoured to give him consolation, and there being by their good offices and a mutual knowledge of each others virtues, a sincere friendship established between these two Princes, Tyridates unlocked his heart to Coriolanus, and by the confession of the love which he bore to the fair Queen of Judea, he obliged him oftentimes to render him the like comforts. Between these two passionate Princes there often passed excellent conversations, and as neither of them was capable of noble and high thoughts, they could not communicate them without giving themselves reciprocally new subjects of esteem, and without finding excellent matter to entertain each other in their solitude. They were not for all that, long alone in their entertainment, and besides the opinion which Coriolanus had already conceived of the brave unknown, Tyridates made him every day such advantageous relations of him, that Coriolanus being impatient to be better acquainted with a man so extraordinary, hastened the first going out of his Chamber to visit him.  
At the first view, he found things above all that which the report of Tyridates had made him a little to comprehend, and in the visage, and all the discourses of the Unknown, he saw such eminent marks of the greatness of his courage, that at first sight he had particular considerations for him: these apprehensions were very reciprocal, and as the Son of Juba had most admirable parts both of mind and body, they suddenly caused the effects they were wont to produce upon the spirit of the Unknown, although prepossessed with sorrow. The first greetings were passed with all the civility which persons buried in discontent could render each to other, but in the following visits these admirable persons mutually taking notice of their particular advantages, made friendship and confidence succeed their esteem. They equally desired to know each other; but they had not the confidence to signify so much each to other, and if Tyridates, who had no less curiosity for the Unknown, and which by the frequent visits he had rendered him, had more acquaintance with him, had not interposed, they had not for a long time discovered their desires.  
Upon this design, one day when the two Princes were by the Unknown, whose wounds were then in so good condition that he hoped in a few days to quit his bed; Tyridates beginning the discourse: It is not just, said he, that persons, which already highly esteem each other, upon the proofs which they have mutually received of one another's Virtue, should continue any longer together without a more perfect knowledge one of another, and I should believe, pursued he, turning himself towards the Unknown, that I did not set that esteem I ought upon the excellencies which you Possess, if they had not inspired me with a desire to learn that from you, which hitherto we have not had the boldness to inquire. There cannot possibly be a person in the world, who hath greater reasons than I to conceal himself, and yet to oblige you to the like confidence, and to let you know what I desire of you, I will make no difficulty to discover unto you my Name, my Birth, and whatsoever you shall desire to know touching my life: and this great Prince, continued he, pointing to Coriolanus, whose intentions he was acquainted with, though a great danger attend upon his discovery in these Country's, will not refuse to disclose himself unto you in hope that you will afford the same satisfaction to his desire. No certainly, replied the Prince of Mauritania, and if his curiosity be equal to mine, there is nothing so secret in my life, which I will not willingly acquaint him with, to lay the same obligation upon him.  
The Unknown receiving the discourse of the two Princes with very great civility: You desire a thing, said he to them, not worthy of your curiosity, and wherein I can satisfy you without throwing myself into greater dangers than those whereunto I am reduced by my ill Fortune: I could wish to hazard and suffer something in that which you require of me, to acknowledge your bounties by some more difficult proof of my obedience, than that you desire; but in the condition whereinto I am precipitated by my misfortune, I have no reason to fear the acknowledgement of my Name, nor any other danger, than what I am already fallen into. The Unknown was about to have enlarged himself, if Coriolanus to keep himself to the proposition they had made him, had not stayed him: It is just, said he unto him, that we should first acquit ourselves of the promise we have made you; and afterwards we will not refuse to understand from you, if you please, what may give us satisfaction.  
With these words he told him his Name, and that of Tyridates, with a small abridgement of their fortunes, by which the Unknown, to whom the reputation of either was not altogether strange, comprehended sufficient to make him judge that he could scarcely find in the rest of the world two Princes more worthy of his respect and affection. The same of the grand actions which the Son of Juba had done, as well for the service of the Empire, as for the recovery of his own Kingdom, had reached the places where he had passed his life; and the virtue of Tyridates, which of itself alone was able to attract the esteem of all men, was accompanied with a birth wherein the Unknown had great interest: when he had patiently attended the discourse of Coriolanus, regarding him as a great King, and as a Prince a thousand times greater by his Virtue than by his Birth: Sir, said he unto him, the glory of our actions is so great, that a man must needs have passed his life in places more obscure, than those which gave me Birth, to have learned the name of Coriolanus the Son of Juba, without being partly instructed in what is due unto him; the sublime appearance of your person, and that which I have found remarkable in your valour and generosity, to my cost and in my favour, had begun powerfully to persuade me what your discourse hath finished: And you, O Arsacian Prince, continued he, addressing himself to Tyridates, besides what mine eyes and the fame of the great things you have done, of which the relation came to us hath given me to know of your Virtue, you are born of a blood which obliges the whole earth, and particularly this unfortunate which speaks to you hath great considerations for you. He uttered these words pressing one of the hands of Tyridates between his own, with a mark of extraordinary affection: and a little after seeing that the Princess having received the praises which he gave them with exceeding modesty, expected from him the effect of those hopes he had given them: I am sorry, said he unto them, that I cannot acknowledge the confidence you have testified unto me by something great and worthy of you, and that for the knowledge you have given me of a great King and a great Prince, I can render you only that of a private man, of a man hardly born of noble blood, and of a man whose Name had never been known, if Fortune, as great an enemy of his as she is, had not given him occasion to do things remarkable enough, and which possibly have given him some repute: And so it is that you may sooner learn what I am by the relation of my life, than by the discovery of my Name; and possibly you may find therein accidents worthy your attention, above what an ordinary extraction may make you expect.  
He made a stop at these words, to recall to memory the most remote accidents of his life, and after that he had put himself into a condition to make a long discourse without incommodating himself, and that those who had undertaken the cure of him, had assured the Princess that he might take this pains without endangering his health, he began the History of his life in these terms.  

The History of the Unknown.  
THe Heavens, Nature, and whatsoever concurs to the production of men, sometimes regulates their Birth and inclinations by an order which would make the Supreme Providence to be called in question, if it did not operate by reasons which surpass our knowledge, and the capacity of our understanding. Oftentimes Princes extracted from the greatest Kings of the earth, have come into the world with inclinations very mean, and less conformable to their Birth, than to that of their Slaves; and sometimes in persons of an ordinary Birth the Gods have planted a courage elevated above their Fortune, and an ambition, which would more justly agree with the conditions of great Princes, than with low or mean Fortunes. I have made an infallible experiment thereof in myself, and that Heaven which hath made me behold the day without any of those advantages which are drawn from Crowns, or a long succession of Ancestors, hath made me to be born with a courage which is always elevated to highest Pretensions, which hath never failed upon any consideration, and which by an error which possibly may be condemned, hath always persuaded me that by my sword, which I have often drawn with success, I might equal myself with Princes, and that I should find none greater than myself among men, except he were more valiant and more virtuous. If this immoderate presumption hath engaged me in actions which may possibly have acquired me some repute in the places where I have passed my life, it hath likewise exposed me to disasters as great as my pretensions; and I begin to acknowledge, that what I attributed to the injustice and ingratitude of men, hath proceeded from the hands of the Gods, who to humble a courage unsubduable by reason, and a just apprehension, have served themselves with ingrateful men, and enraged elements, and all things which might reduce my spirit within the bounds, which by my Birth they seem to have prescribed to my ambition.  
My Father was born in Gaul, of noble extraction, as he hath told me, and more I never knew, neither did I ever see the Country from whence I draw my original, nor any other of my kindred, besides him that caused my production into the world. He quitted his Country in the times of the wars of Julius Cesar, by whom his native Country was made desolate, and out of the aversion which he had against the Enemy of his Country, he a little after engaged himself in the party of Pompey the Great, where he bare arms with honour, and applied himself particularly to his service. Pompey the Great honoured him with his affection, and married him to a Lady of a noble Roman Family, and kept him inseparably in his Retinue, to the end of his days. This time was of no long continuance, for the unfortunate Pompey after the overthrow at Pharsalia found his death where he sought for refuge, and perished upon the shore of Pelusium by the infidelity of Ptolomee. Briton, for that was my Father's Name, not being able to comfort himself for the loss of so great a Master, nor to follow the fortune of his Wife Cornelia, who from aboard her own Vessel saw with her own eyes the deplorable death of so illustrious an Husband, settled himself in a corner of Egypt with his Wife, of whom a few days after I was born, and a little after death took her away, as my Father afterwards related to me. Briton having but one Son left of his whole Family, sought all his consolations in him alone; and seeing himself by the liberality of Pompey the Great, and by the gift of great store of Jewels of great value, which he had received of him, to be in a condition to pass his days without being exposed to any necessity, he employed part of those goods, which might have been converted to other uses, to the education of a Son in whom he had established all his hopes.  
Nothing was spared for my bringing up, no more than if I had been born of some great Prince, and my father very often perceiving that they with whom he was acquainted, blamed the excessive expense he was at for me, a little conformable to the condition wherein he then was, told them that he made all his goods to consist in me alone, and that he could not employ them better than to put me into a capacity one day to repair the ruins of my Fortune by my Virtue. But I owed much more to his cares, than to those of my Masters which he gave me, and by his examples and instructions he form both my mind and body much more advantageously, than all the persons of whom he caused me to learn either Sciences or Exercises. With truth I may say he nourished me like Achilles, and though I fed not upon the Marrow of Lions, as by the care of Chiron the Son of Peleus did, at least after the example of that famous Governor, he framed my body in my tender years to the most rough and violent Exercises. No sooner could I go, but he led me a hunting, and after I began to have some strength, he did not accustom me any longer to pursue the timorous sort of beasts, but those which could not be approached without danger, and against which I might make some apprenticeship of my valour. He made me with my Bow in my hand, and my Quiver at my back, to traverse the Forests and Mountains on foot; and he did in such sort banish from my education all delicacy and effeminateness, that persons of the age I now am, cannot possibly be more robustious, or more capable of all sort of toil and travel than I was in my infancy.  
Although I was brought up in Egypt, Briton was never willing that I should come near the Court of Cleopatra, and he had such an aversion from every thing that might bring again into his mind the memory of the murderers of his Master, that all that was reported of the magnificences of Alexandria, where so many young Princes were brought up with the children of Anthony, never gave him any desire to bring me thither. I confess likewise that I never moved him to it, and though I was tickled with the relation which I heard made of things more conformable to my humour, than my solitude and the mediocrity of my Fortune, yet I had inclinations like to those of my Father, and whether he inspired them into me by his discourse or his example, or whether they proceeded from my own nature, I had a repugnance against those persons whose memory and name were odious unto him upon his Master's account.  
In this while he perceived in me by many marks a courage elevated above our condition; he saw me disdain those things at which my ambition, according to all likelihood, aught to aim; to u dervalue those which were my equals in Fortune, if by an extraordinary merit they were not worthy of a particular esteem; to aspire eternally to things above me, and in all my discourses, and in my actions to express resentment very disproportionable to the estate wherein we were. Sometimes he used endeavours to subdue that which he saw excessive and immoderate in my courage, and foreseeing in part the evils to which it hath often exposed me, he set before my eyes the condition of our Fortune, to make my spirit comply unto it, and in some sort to restrain the impetuosity of my nature. But when he saw that he had unprofitably employed his pains, and that all the docility and deference which I had for his instructions could not abase my thoughts, he repented himself of the endeavours he would have used to humble me, and regarding me with eyes wherein his affection sometimes produced tears: Go, said he unto me, young man, worthy of a better destiny, follow thy haughty inclinations whither soever they may call thee; I cannot prescribe limits to thy ambition, and by that I may possibly one day see thee above that envious fortune by which we have been ruined. In finishing these words he most times turned away his eyes from my face, and seemed in such sort mollified by his passion, that as very a child as I was I could not see him in that condition without being touched by an extraordinary emotion.  
In this time by the famous War between Octavius Caesar, and Anthony, the Countries of Egypt were covered with Soldiers, and this place beheld itself the fatal field wherein the quarrel of the whole Universe was to becided. Although I was but 13 or 14 years of age, I did already burn with impatience to throw myself into occasions of getting glory: and though by the inclinations I had to follow the resentments of my Father, both parties were almost equally odious to me, yet the name of Caesar, to the aversion from which I had been accustomed, made his side yet more my enemy, and I had followed Anthony's sooner than han his, if the intentions of my Father had complied with mine. I was not unapt for any kind of Exercise, and I had acquired such strength by the laboriousness of hunting, and other employments wherein my Father had continually exercised me, that a man of thirty years of age could not possibly have charged on horse back more vigorously than myself, nor have better come off from a troublesome piece of business, wherein a strong constitution was necessary. My father who was conscious of it, feared lest I should give him the slip, and possibly I should have done it after I had oftentimes unprofitably assayed to obtain his permission; but at that time, whether it were for this consideration, or to find a retreat, where he might peaceably pass his days, or for other reasons to me unknown, he quitted Egypt, and led me into places where I could not be tickled by near occasions with a desire to take up arms, whereby he was afraid to lose me; he would not retire himself into any of the Kingdoms interessed in either of the two parties; he likewise avoided all those which had any dependence upon the Roman Empire, and taking our way along the banks of Nile, he went to establish our abode in Ethiopia.  
We arrived at Meroe, where the King's ordinary residence was, and it was in this Court that my father made no difficulty to produce me, believing through the affection wherewith he abused himself, that I had qualities whereby I might advance myself, and reap some fruit of the generous inclination which he believed he saw in me. I was likewise so much favoured by Fortune, that in a small time I was more favourably looked upon than I could expect from my condition; and my Father, by his acquaintance which his virtue easily procured him at Meroe, having found a means to cause me to be presented to the King, this Prince found me so much to his liking, that after he had seen me divers times, and marked in me, as he said, something above my birth, by his special favour he placed me among divers young men of mine own age, born of the noblest blood amongst the Ethiopians, which he particularly dedicated to the service of the Princess Candace his only Daughter, and the Inheritrix of his Crown.  
Tyridates, who till then, had heard and beheld the Unknown with great suspicions, finding the confirmation of them in these last words: I doubt no longer, said he, interrupting him, but that you are Britomarus, and I find in your fortune, your humour, and your person, all things so conformable to the relation I have heard made of him, that I take you for him with an almost entire certainty. The Unknown, though a little surprised with this discouse, replied to Tyridates without being moved. It is true, said he, that my Father gave me the name of Britomarus, something near his own, and which divers persons of his Country and Consinguinity too had born; but I never thought I should have found persons here who would possibly have known it. It is sufficiently known, replied Tyridates, and together with this name, I know also the most remarkable adventures which befell you in Ethiopia, and part of the first actions you did in other Countries; but besides that the relation I have received is very confused, the King of Mauritania understands nothing of it, and you may, if you please, continue your narration without interruption, though some things may be come to my knowledge. I will obey you, answered Britomarus, and though the first action of my life may scarce be worthy your attention, yet I will recount them unto you, that you may comprehend the order of my Fortune, which in the course of my whole life hath contracted an habit in my affairs from which she never departed.  
I was no sooner in the service of the Princess Candace, but that by all sorts of cares I endeavoured to merit the honour which I had received; and though according to my ambition, all things of my capacity seemed below me, yet I found this Princess so worthy of all services which could be rendered her in all sorts of conditions, that I made my lofty humour comply without repugnance to all the employments which my companions had near her. There was none more astiduous nor more industrious to seek out occasions to please and obey her; and though my inclinations carried themselves to arms a great deal more than to other employments, they themselves in a short time engaged me in a place, and to things which I had never stayed upon, but only in consideration of my Fortune. Candace was really one of the fairest persons in the world, and I would say she was the prime beauty of the Earth, if some beauty had not afterwards appeared to my eyes which might equal it, and possibly in some respect surpass it.  
To the perfection of the body was conjoined that of the mind, and all the qualities which might render a Princess accomplished: I know not whether it were through the propension which we naturally have to love things beautiful, that I suffered myself to be taken, or through my pride, which persuaded me that I could love nothing more low than the Daughter of one of the greatest Kings of the world. This presumption was ridiculous in me, and though always in all the other actions of my life I may possibly have managed it with reason enough, yet it was never possible for me to vanquish it.  
Howsoever it came to pass, I became really amorous of the Princess of Ethiopia; and to accuse myself the more, I will say that all the appearances whereby I might condemn my love, were not strong enough to oblige me to resist it, and that I never opposed my reason against the birth of a passion, whereof I could not probably expect any good success. I believed I might love Candace without offending her, and I thought myself of as great a value as a Prince, although the conditions of a Prince was elevated above mine. What tyranny, said I, aught to oblige me to offer violence to a gallant inclination, and what consideration can hinder me from loving Candace, if nothing but she alone seem amiable unto my eyes? If I have not birth, I have a courage worthy of her, and if by my courage I cannot supply the default of my birth, it is better to perish nobly, rather than to abase my thoughts. What know we for what the Gods reserve us, and why may we not hope all things, if we find ourselves capable to undertake all things?  
In this sort I flattered myself in my audacious thoughts, and if at any time by the reflection which I made upon the state of my condition, I desired to regulate and submit them to more reasonable terms, I repented a moment after, and blushed for shame to have offended, as it seemed to me, that courage by which my desire was to equal myself with the greatest. All the Ladies attending upon the Princess (whom I might regard with more equality, and amongst whom there were some who might pass for very beautiful, if the brightness of their Mistress had not defaced theirs) were not capable of possessing my thoughts for one moment: and if at any time I turned my eyes upon them, it was with so much indifferency, or rather with so much contempt, that they had all a just subject of discontent, and possibly of deriding my pride. I will say more, if modesty permit me, that there were divers amongst them who were not exempted from some affection for me, and gave me testimonies of it great enough to fortify the good opinion which I had naturally for myself. Nevertheless, this unreasonable presumption which flattered my haughty thoughts, did not carry me to manifest extravagancies, and if I believed that it was permitted me to love the Princess, and disdain all that was inferior to her, yet I knew well that I could not give her too visible marks of my passion, without justly drawing upon me either her anger or contempt; and I was contented to endure the pain she made me suffer without declaring it any other way unto her, than by my assiduity in her service, accompanied with a grace which possibly was not so natural in my Companions, and by diligences which understandings more intelligent than Candaces was at that time, would have easily discerned from those which are used for another interest. Some difference likewise which she favourably found between my Companions and me, both for my person and my services, caused her to receive mine with more approbation than theirs, and I remarked in divers passages that she set an higher esteem upon me, than upon many persons which by their birth held a very considerable rank in Ethiopia.  
I was in this condition, and had stayed a year at Meroe, when Cleomedon arrived there; I call him by that name, though his true name and birth are not unknown unto me: a more ample declaration might be fatal to him in this Country, where a few days since we have seen him, and though I be his enemy by a natural inclination, and for the reasons wherewith I will acquaint you, yet I should be sorry by dishonourable means to take a revenge upon him unworthy of my courage. This Prince born with all the advantages of nature, and composed of as great parts as any possibly could be, came into Ethiopia to drive me thence, and though it was not his intention, and that by the difference there was between our conditions, he hardly cast his eyes upon me, it came to pass rather by my fortune than his design, that he overthrew all my hopes, and made me go to seek elsewhere the occasions whereunto I was called by my destiny.  
This Prince, as I have said, and as I am obliged to say to give testimony to the truth, had qualities altogether excellent and amiable, and yet I no sooner judged that he loved Candace, (for by the interest I took therein, I took notice of his truth sooner than others) but I conceived hatred against him in my heart, and it found a disposition so natural to receive it, that ever since, though the cause of our differences be ceased, and that naturally I am apt enough to be reconciled, and of an humour inclinable enough to pardon my most cruel Enemies, I could never banish the repugnance which since that time established itself against him in my spirit: It was augmented by a thousand occasions, and Cleomedon, though I believe without design, did me a thousand injuries, which were never taken notice of either by him or other persons, and which could not possibly have passed for injuries amongst my Companions, whose courage was not so haughty as mine. He deprived me every day of the means of entertaining the Princess, who, out of a particular goodness, oftentimes diverted herself to discourse with me: if I had the honour to lead her, as it was permitted us by the employment we had near her, he came to do my office, and put me besides a place which I must needs quit unto him out of respect, and in fine, he did me a hundred displeasures, which I looked upon rather through my passion, than my reason, and which made me detest my unfortunate birth, by reason of which I could not probably hope for satisfaction from a great Prince; but this fear was unjust in me, and Cleomedon, whose virtue and courage is more sublime than his birth, made me a little after acknowledge, that he was exceeding worthy of the advantages he had above me, and that he might highly conserve by his valour whatsoever he could acquire by his Fortune. You will perceive the truth of what I have told you in the recital of the engagement between us, and by the discourse which I will make you of his admirable generosity; you will be amazed that by his noble procedure all the hatred I had for him did not quit my heart, or rather you will believe with me that it must needs be retained there by unknown causes.  
Hereabouts Britomarus stopped to recall into his memory some particulars of his discourse: and when they were come to his mind, he went on upon the same things which a few days before Etcocles had related to Tyridates. He told the two Princes the displeasures he had received from Cleomedon, for the Nosegay he had taken from him to present to the Princess Candace, he added also divers of the same nature, and at last came to the relation of the offence which he did him at the public sports of his resentments, of his complaint to Cleomedon, and of the gallant combat which they had together, wherein he exalted the generosity of Cleomedon in terms which sufficiently discovered his own to his illustrious auditors, and made them rightly judge that virtuous men acknowledge and reverence virtue even in the person of their enemies. He told them in fine, the command he had received to depart Ethiopia, whereby his resentments against Cleomedon were revived, the combat he suffered in his soul, whilst his wounds detained him in his bed, to separate himself from Candace; He gave them the relation of his cure, of the leave he took of Cleomedon, of his departure from the Court of Ethiopia, and punctually all those things which Eteocles had recounted, by the recital whereof, he caused in Coriolanus an attention and admiration for these beginnings of his life, which possibly adventures of greater importance would not have produced; and after he had related in this sort that which Tyridates already understood; he pursued in these terms his discourse concerning those things which were as yet unknown unto him, or those at least whereof he had heard only by a common report, and not by any particular narration.  
It was not without very great violence, that I disposed my spirit to separate myself from Candace, and though the passion I had for her was not yet arrived to the point whither it might have come, yet nevertheless it was not so slight, but it made me resent a great part of that which might be suffered by such a separation; and that which aggravated my grief the more, was to see myself driven away by my Rival (I say my Rival, for the inequality which was between us cannot hinder me from calling him so) and reduced by an unjust authority to yield up a place to him which my heart had chosen, and a place which I had infallibly conserved, if my power had never so little seconded my courage.  
What, said I, shall I fly then for him, and shall I by him be ever banished from the sight of Candaee? must I needs submit to a cruel tyranny, because my birth was unfortunate? and because I am more weak in power than Cleomedon, must I needs bear to no purpose an heart as great as Cleomedons'? Shall this Sword wherewith I have began to exact satisfaction for my injuries, and which, for its first essay, hath possibly shed the most noble blood of the world, hang unprofitably by my side, and not descend me from the last offence that is prepared for me? I shall go exiled, I shall go banished, to search out retreats and sanctuaries far from Candace, whilst my insolent enemy may possibly stay near her, and shall not all my courage be able to preserve me from this unjust and cruel oppression? Ah my Birth! ah my Fortune! what Enemies are you unto me? and how little conformable are you to my resentments, which shall eternally complain of you.  
To these first discourses which my love produced, succeeded the memory of the indignities I suffered, and the scorn of Candace, whose thoughts were conformable to those of the King his Father, who as well as he, blamed my insolence, and visited Cleomedon every day, whilst his wounds detained him in his bed, without once informing herself of the estate of mine. The despite I hence resented, was necessary to dispose me to quit Ethiopia, and without that, the fear of any hurt they could do me, would never have been capable to make me for ever abandon the sight of that I loved. They despise thee, said I, they accuse thee of presumption, they never so much as ask whether thou be'st alive or no, and canst thou feel any regret to separate thyself from these ingrateful persons which disdain thee? The King, who at first thought he saw something extraordinary in thee, treats thee now as the vilest of all men, he shamefully banishes thee his dominions, and hardly leaves thee thy life at the request of thine enemy, and Candace, to whom thou hast given an heart and a life possible as worthy of her as that of a Prince, disesteems thee for default of thy birth and fortune, and suffers thee to be banished from her service and her Father's Territories, without making one single petition to him in thy favour. Ah Britomarus! rouse thyself from that sottishness wherein thy blind passion hath entangled thee. Remember thyself that thou art not born for contempt, and that thou art possibly called to occasions of glory, whereby thou mayest merit other kind of usage from persons as high as these which disdain thee, make them know that they never rightly knew thee, and make them one day repent that they stayed upon false appearances, and did not know to discern a virtue more worthy of their esteem: Thou shalt find abroad else where better conditions than in this Enemy-country, where thou hast abandoned thy liberty; and if the Gods will favour thy courage, thou art born without doubt to greater things than those to which thou hast given the beginnings of thy life: make thyself equal to Cleomedon by this sword which thou hast drawn against him, and when thou shalt have attained to what thy heart makes thee hope for, return to dispute against him, not Candace who dispises thee, not the favour of Hidaspes who treats thee unworthily; but the glory which he would ravish from thee, by the injuries he hath done thee. These thoughts coming again into my mind, fortified themselves there at last in such sort, that all the powers of Candace were not able to resist them, and after a great combat, if I could not entirely banish her out of my mind, yet by the resentments which rendered themselves equal to the love I had for her, I disposed myself to abandon her without regret, or at least to vanquish what might remain by the memory of her scorn, and entirely to remove my thoughts to other employments, and other objects than those which I could not call to mind without shame and displeasure.  
With this resolution I parted from Meroe with my Father, who would not leave me, though he had liberty to stay; and having laid the foundation of all his hopes in me alone, was resolved to run my fortune through the whole earth. He had found in my engagement with Cleomedon something of rash and presumptuous, and he gave me at first a very sharp check for it; but in fine, as he had resentments truly generous and noble, be could not absolutely condemn it, and confirming himself by this action in the judgement he made of me: Our fortune, said he to me, is too narrow for thee, and Heaven would not be just, if it hath not reserved something for thee more proportionable to thy courage. He often used these words and others of the same nature to me, sighing and expressing by his visage the displeasure he had to see so little conformity between my thoughts and my condition, in all kind of occurrences he showed me an ardent affection, and lived with me, as I thought, with more consideration than Parents usually have for their children, through the good opinion he had coneeived of me: He gave me, all the time I stayed with him, instructions worthy of the virtue which the world took notice of in him, and pressed, as much as was possible for him, the imperuosity of my youth, yet without debasing my courage which he saw with joy inclined to great matters.  
But alas! the instructions and consolations which I received from him were but of a shore continuance, and it was with a very sensible grief that I saw myself deprived of him by an unexpected adventure. Departing out of Ethiopia we visited a part of Arabia; and I was detained in a little village by a slight indisposition, when my Father attending my recovery, was walking one day in the company of some inhabitants of the place where I was, with whom he was acquainted, was set upon by a troop of Arabians who were almost all Thiefs and Vagabonds, and carried away with some of those which were with him without my hearing any news of him: Understanding his loss, and being seized by a mortal grief, I pursued after his Ravishers, and I may say that there was hardly a place in all Arabia, whither I bended not my steps with an intention either to perish or recover him who gave me birth: But all my excursions were unprofitable, and with them I lost all the hope I had conceived of seeing again a Father so dear, and to whom I had so great obligations.  
I will not recount unto you the regrets which this loss caused me for divers months, and this relation will be to you as troublesome as unprofitable, in relation to the knowledge which you desire of my life: He had left at the house where I was when he was carried away, money and jewels of a very great price, which remained in my power after his loss, whereby I had means to defend myself from necessity in my travels, and to put myself into an handsome equipage to go and seck occasions of acquiring glory in those places whither the fame of War invited me. I coasted Syria, I saw Mesopotamia, and Assyria, but finding these Countries at peace, I contented myself to pass through them without staying there, and I came at last into Armenia upon the report which was spread abroad concerning the preparations which the King of this Country made to carry War into Media, I found the truth conformable to what I had heard, and the young Artaxus boiling with revenge for the death of his Father, who was said to have lost his life by the solicitation of the King of the Medes, Father to him whom he went to engage, threw himself into his Territories with a puissant Army, putting all to Fire and Sword; I put myself in his Troops unknown, and though my Equipage was handsome enough, and that I had employed thereupon part of what my Father had left me, being neither able nor willing to convert it to any other use than what might serve to signazile me, I fought in person without any command in the first encounters. I quickly got acquaintance with the Officers of the Army, who sound something in my person worthy of their caresses and their amity, and in a short time I was so fortunate, that in the Battles which were fought, I having done actions which they said were not ordinary amongst them, the King upon the report which was made of them, had a desire to see me. I was presented unto him by the Officers with whom I had gotten acquaintance, who commended me above the truth; and the King, after he had let me know that he esteemed me more than I could propably expect, a little after gave me the command of two hundred horse. This was my first employment, and the Gods were pleased that I should succeed with so much good fortune, that in less than two months, by the favour of the King, I saw myself in the head of a thousand horse, in a condition to do something considerable, and in hope of arriving quickly to higher preferments.  
In the mean time I had so well endeavoured to banish the Image of Candace out of my mind, that by the assistance of my resentments and my youth, which had but imperfectly received the first impressions of love, my spirit found itself free and dis-engaged sooner than I durst hope, or if any Idea remained of it, it gave me but very slight pains, and despite daily sortifying itself in my heart, weakened it in such sort, that at last it was no longer in a condition to give any considerable traverse to my ambitious thoughts: I am no longer, said I, I am no longer in thy fetters, proud Princess, which knowest not how to discern between virtue and fortune, and which wouldst have treated me with blindness like to hers. I am ashamed that I once gave thee so lightly this liberty which I should have better defended; and though others possibly esteem it glorious to pass their whole life in thy service, I cannot without blushing remember that I have given thee any moments of mine. These were my real thoughts, and by little and little I so perfectly razed her out of my Soul, that ambition and the desire of glory remained there alone, and made me entirely apply my cares and my desires to occasions of acquiring honour, and of advancing myself so by my valour, that I might see myself no more subjected to the injuries whereunto I had been exposed by my Fortune.  
I had in this design all the good success I could desire, and if that we owe to modesty did permit me to speak of myself as of another person, I would say that the Armenians possibly never saw a man signalise himself amongst them by more advantageous successes than those which ensued upon all occasions whereupon I was employed: with the thousand horse which I commanded, I divers times cut in pieces far greater numbers of the enemy, and the King permitting me, through the inclination he perceived in me, to go out often upon Parties, I never returned back but loaden with the spoils, and covered with the blood of my Enemies, and with all the marks of advantage he could desire of me.  
Once our Enemy having charged part of our Infantry in a narrow passage, I was sent with my small Body, and I fought there with so good success, that more than two thousand Medes remained dead upon the place, the rest were put to flight, and all their baggage with a good number of prisoners fell into our power: Some days after at a pass upon a River which our Enemies disputed with us, I threw myself first into the River, followed by a party of men, and through the arrows which flew like hail having recovered the bank, I charged the Enemies which defended it, and amused them so, that I gave leisure to all our Troops to pass after my example, to reach the bank and obtain an absolute Victory. By these petty actions I acquired great reputation in the Army, and much esteem in the mind of the young King of Armenia, who considered these things so much the more, because I did them at an age wherein few persons had begun to draw a Sword. But his affection was much augmented by the success of a Battle which was fought near the City of Lussa, whereof in part he gave me the glory, and certain it is that with three thousand Horse, which he gave me the command of that day, I had the good fortune to rout the Enemy on all parts where I encountered them, to save the lives of our principal Commanders, and so opportunely with my un-engaged Body to succour all those which were in a condition of wanting relief, that they ascribed to me, more than to any other Commanders, the advantage of this day, which was entirely ours.  
After this time Artaxus looked upon me as a person extraordinary, he admitted me into his Council in so youthful an age, as to appearance did little merit these advantages, and he had advanced me to fair preferments in his Army. Hitherto I did not only conserve but greatly augment the Reputation which I had gained, and Fortune which at that time did interess herself in my glory, would have it so, that at the siege of a very important place which we had sat down before, and for the succour whereof the King of Medes was advanced with his Army, Tigranes to spare the blood of his Subjects, made an offer to Artaxus to decide the siege by a single Combat of one of his men against one of ours, upon condition, that if his Champion were conquered we should raise the siege, and depart out of the Province, and if the Victory happened upon our side, the City besieged should be put into our hands, and open us the Gates at the end of the Combat. The King of Armenia, who out of the animosity which carried him on to this War, rejected all sorts of Propositions, seeing himself in a season, wherein by reason of the cold and the incommodities of the winter which was very near at hand, he should be shortly constrained to retire, accepted this; and although the report was long before spread even in our Army of the valour of the Medes who was to fight; he made no difficulty to oppose one of his men against him, and believed he should find as valiant as he in his own Troops. Divers brave Armenians presented themselves to their King to obtain this employment, and I cast myself at his feet among the first to demand it of him. I know not whether he chose rather to hazard the life of a Stranger, than of the principal of his own Subjects, or indeed the good opinion he had of me rendered my prayer more efficacious than other men's: but however it was I obtained this honour being preferred before all those that demanded it, and I received a permission to go put myself into a condition to fight the valiant Mede, in whom our Enemies had established part of their hopes. I clad myself for this occasion in very fair Arms, and then it was that I began to carry these Lions which my Fortune hath rendered famous enough, and which have appeared since in an hundred Combats wherein Victory never abandoned them.  
I will not detain you with the particular relation of this Action, having so many of greater importance to recount unto you, that I can only pass over this very lighty. All the conditions being agreed upon, and the day come, I appeared upon the Field assigned in view of the two Kings, and both Armies, and after the accustomed Ceremonies, I fought with the Mede, and by great good Fortune made him tumble dead almost with the first blows I gave him. This action was glorious and solemn enough to tickle my ambitious desires, and I received praises for it from the King and all our Troops, wherein a soul like mine might find its entire recompense. The King that very day gave the City which I had gained for him by this Combat, and protested publicly, that there was no employment in his Kingdom superior to me, to which I might not lawfully aspire.  
A few days after by the rigour of the season the Armies were forced to leave the Field, and the King of Armenia having put good Garrisons in the places which he had taken, retired into his own Country, and took me along with him to Artaxata, where he kept his ordinary residence. At my coming, through the advantageous relation which was there made of me, I was treated better without doubt than I deserved, and instead of being looked upon as a poor stranger without name, without estate, and without any advantage of Fortune, I was considered as a man rendered worthy, in a few months, of Commands which the best qualified persons could hardly obtain in a great number of years. I had access at my first coming to all the Grandees of the Court, and the King giving me ample Pensions to maintain myself in an honourable condition, and according to the rank he would have me bear, I was as well received both among the Courtiers and the Ladies, as persons of greater dignity than myself. I was likewise well entertained and particularly caressed by all the Royal Family, and through my ambitious humour the caresses of these persons made me despise all others, and did so powerfully fix me that I hardly cast my eyes upon the rest. The Royal Family was at this time composed of persons admirably handsome made, the King though he appeared something unpolished in his aspect, yet he had a high and lofty deportment: but the Prince Ariobarzanes his brother, and the two Princesses Arsinoe and Artemisa his Sisters were admirable Masterpieces of nature, for their bodies, minds, and inclinations. Ariobarzanes was sixteen years of age, Arsinoe one year less, and Artemisa one less than her Sister; it would be certainly a difficult thing to find any thing in the world more beautiful than the young Prince and the two Princesses, and all that which I had sometimes admired in the beauties of Candace seemed to be paralleled by those of Arsinoe, and to have very little advantage over those of Artemisa. Other persons would possibly have bestowed longer time in passing a judgement upon these two Princesses, and the difference was not so great, that one could easily adjudge the superiority to either; but whether it were by my inclination, or by the truth that I remained convinced, I did not doubt to give the preference to Arsinoe, and to judge her in all things more amiable than her Sister. Arsinoe was so composed, that the eyes of Envy itself could find nothing to carp at in the regularity of the lineaments of her Visage, nor in all the structure of her whole person: her eyes black but full of the quickest fire wherewith hearts are inflamed, had in their motion and conduct something so sweet and so imperious both together, that they cast but few regards without effect; and it was hard to defend one's self against their powers, if one were not fortified by some extraordinary assistance. Their blackness, with that of her hair being of the same colour, was made remarkable by a complexion to which it gave a lustre, which nevertheless had no need of its assistance to dazzle the eyes of the Beholders, and to carry away the pre-eminence from all the purest whites that nature ever produced; her mouth, her neck, her proportion, and all her parts were complete even to the height of perfection, but the beauties of her mind were yet much more perfect than those of her body, and if chastity and modesty were depainted in her face, they were likewise so deeply engraved in her heart, and with them virtue was established in her soul with so fair an Empire, that (according to the judgement I could make of it at that time by appearances, and not by occasions) all the most powerful considerations would have been too feeble to sway her spirit from the least rule of her duty. All her discourses were accompanied by a reasoning infinitely above her age, and although her courage was sublime above her Sex, yet it was elevated without pride, and full of a generous goodness. In fine, she was amiable in all parts, and you will easily perceive by the following part of my discourse, that I praise her now without passion, and without any other interest than what I have in the truth. I had at this time through despite, my youth, absence, and warlike employments, to which I entirely gave myself, banished Candace from my heart, and if at any time she presented herself there, she found a resistance in my resentments which did not permit her to recover there the Empire which sometimes she had possessed. Impressions are easily defaced out of the heart of a person of the age that I was of when I parted from Ethiopia, and those which I had received in mine were not so strongly settled as to vanquish the despite which scorn enkindled in my heart. It was then almost free, when the beauties of Arsinoe presented themselves unto me with charms, against which it was difficult to make any defence. I likewise did but weakly defend myself from them, and whether it were by their power, or my own weakness, or by my destiny which did not permit me to fix my thoughts upon any but Daughters of great Kings, but I suffered myself to be taken without consulting my reason, and without making any reflection upon those things which might divert me. Neither this second engagement, nor that which you will understand in the progress of my discourse, proceeded from the lightness of my spirit, and naturally I have no inclination to change, if I be not carried to it by some more powerful motive than my love; I should have loved Candace to my grave, if the love I had for her in so tender youth had had time to render itself more powerful in my soul, than the aversion I had for her scorn: but as I have naturally this unreasonable presumption as to believe that the inequality which is between me and that I love, ought not to expose me to disdain and evil usage, so by the knowledge I received of it my resentments were strong enough to banish from my soul a passion not well settled; I say a passion ill settled: for the last I have received into my spirit, hath placed itself there after another sort and hath taken such profound root there, that neither regret, nor despite, nor jealousy, nor all that the Gods and Men can oppose to impede its course, will be capable to alter it for one moment.  
In fine, I could not take notice of the amiable qualities of Arsinoe without loving her, and though recalling to mind the usage I received in Ethiopia, I made some efforts against the birth of this love, whereof in probability I ought to expect no better success than of the former, yet if this resistance served a while against the sight only of the beauties of Arsinoe, it prevailed nothing at last against so many miracles of her mind, whereby the advantages of her body were surpassed. This inability of defending myself was seconded by the flattery of my natural ambition, and looking with Pride upon the beginning of a Fortune which I believed due to myself alone: What hinders me from hoping, said I, but that by this valour whereof the first effects are so handsome, I may render myself worthy of being an avowed Servant of Arsinoe? and what ought I not to expect from a Sword which hath already advanced me to a rank, where possibly it never placed a Person of my age in so short a time? Undertake, daring Britomarus, all that thy courage can inspire thee with, it is too good to betray thee, and by it thou mayst one day see thyself in a condition not to be disdained neither by Arsinoe nor any Princess upon Earth: If Royal Blood and Crowns be wanting to thee, thy virtue may supply the defect of the one, and may possibly give thee the other; this Fortune is not without Example, and divers persons of a Birth inferior to thine have attained by their valour to a royal Dignity: Arsinoe, whose Spirit is not of the common stamp, will know how to discern in thee that which is most precious and worthy of her esteem, though perhaps concealed under disadvantageous appearences; she will conceive that if thou be'st not a Prince, possibly thou meritest to be one, and thou appearest now before her in another condition, and in another kind of posture, than thou didst before Candace, by whom thou couldst not be regarded but as one of her meanest Domestics, and to whom thou couldst not be considerable by any action which could render thee superior to those of thy birth. I animated, or rather flattered myself in this manner, and by indulging my passion, I suffered myself to be but too deeply enengaged: all things contributed to it, and Arsinoe herself was partly culpable of it by the kindnesses she showed me, and the marks of a particular esteem which she daily gave me. As she was persuaded that I was owner of some virtue, so she gave it as much respect in my person as she would have done in a great Prince, and this was that which deceived me, and which made me conceive hopes in her goodness, whereby I found myself abused.  
Henceforward my love began to produce its ordinary effects: I lost my repose and sleep, and I saw myself exposed to all the inquietudes which accompany this passion; yet mine were greater than those of other persons who have permission to ease themselves by complaint and discourse, and knowing myself obliged, by the eminency of that which I loved to bury my thoughts in a rigorous silence, I suffered without doubt in this cruel constraint, what I should not have suffered, if I had the liberty to declare my mind: I saw the Princess every day, and by the account the King made of me, and the state he made me take in the Court, I had free ingress into places whither none but Persons of Quality were permitted to come; the Princess did me the honour to speak often to me, she was pleased with my discourse, and oftentimes preferred it before that of the Grandees of Armenia: by her goodness I was more inflamed, and though I received it with a respect which tied up my tongue more and more, yet it could not hold my eyes nor my sighs in the like constraint, and they continually spoke a language to the Princess, which she might easily have understood, if all appearances had not been contrary to it.  
Amongst the Persons whose amity I had acquired during the stay I made in Armenia, Artamenes a Young Armenian, of a very sublime condition, and allied divers ways to the Royal Family, was the Man to whom I was the most engaged, and which testified most affection to me: He had inclinations altogether virtuous, and a great sweetness of spirit joined with a great and lofty courage, the rank he held in Armenia caused me at the first to use some submissive respect towards him; but in a short time he banished all ceremony out of our Society, and esteeming some quality in me which he preferred before Birth and Fortune, his absolute will was that we should live in an entire equality, and that we should banish all constraint from our conversations; and seeing me without any other estate, than what I received from the King, and what I might hope for from my sword, he would often have made me to participate of his, and have put me in a condition to outbrave necessity, if Fortune should prove contrary to me: but I had but too much disesteem for things of so mean a value, and I always assured Artamenes not only that his friendship was considerable to me out of the single interest of esteem which I had for his virtue; but also that what the vulgar call goods could never pass for such in my spirit, or engage me in one single thought of my seeking after them. We were almost every day together, and he having by his birth, and the esteem which was due to his virtue, gained the best acquaintance in the Court, led me into all the best companies, and made me take my part in the divertisements of the most eminent Persons; but he began quickly to perceive, both by the familiarity we had together, and the little power I had to dissemble my thoughts that these pleasures which he gave me were not sufficiently capable to touch me, and that I disdained all that was common in Armenia, for that which was greatest and most eminent there. He saw me sigh, change colour, and express in all things an extraordinary emotion at the sight of the Princess Arsinoe; and when by the first notice he took, he had grounded his suspicions, he observed me more curiously than he had done formerly, and found in all my actions great occasions to confirm himself in them. Out of discretion he would not a long time discover his thoughts to me, but when our friendship had made so large a progress as that he believed that familiarity permitted him all things: Britomarus, said he to me, it is not easy for persons of Your humour to disguise themselves long from their friends, and what care soever You take to conceal from me the secret of Your soul, it appears to me by so many marks, that I can no longer be ignorant of it. These words surprised me, as Artamenes might well judge by the silence I kept for some time before I returned him an answer; but a little after recollecting myself: I shall never be sorry, said I him, that my most reserved thoughts are known unto You, and that which I shall keep secret from all the World, shall be discovered unto You, since You have a desire to understand it; This is an effect of Your amity which is very dear unto me, replied Artamenes, and yet is not from your amity that I have drawn the knowledge of the thoughts which You have for the Princess Arsinoe: Blush not, Britomarus, continued he smiling, and looking upon me with more attention than before, this is an elevation of spirit worthy of you, and as I hold You capable of none but high and noble thoughts, so I think it not strange that You have chosen that which is most great and beautiful in all Asia for the object of your affections.  
These words did absolutely put me in a kind of confusion, but I put it off as readily as possibly I could; and as I have been all my life time so much an enemy of disguise, that all the occasions which might most powerfully carry me unto it, were never strong enough to oblige me to tell a lie, so I believed that for a friend, as Artamenes was, I ought not to constrain my nature, and endeavouring to show him a visage full of the marks of confidence: You have known my most particular thoughts, said I to him, because I have not taken the care to conceal them from you, and though you will not owe it to my friendship, yet by that you have penetrated into my heart, and by that I am not reduced, in relation to you, to a constraint which might possibly have hidden from you, as well as from others, part of my inclinations. I had not declared them to you so readily because I judged that they might be too audacious, but since that, through my imprudence, you have been able to discern that which I ought to have kept undiscovered from all the World,; I shall make no difficulty to acknowledge to you that which my mouth cannot handsomely utter, and confess unto you that the disproportion of my Birth and Fortune have not been able to defend me against the powers of the Princess Arsinoe. I do not find it strange, said Artamenes to me, but I cannot comprehend what your design can be; and if you are yet in a condition to take counsel of the best of your Friends, you will consult your reason before you engage any further: Your virtue renders you, and without doubt will render you considerable amongst all those which wear a Sword with Glory, but it doth not suffice to authorise your ambition; and the Princess Arsinoe is born with an heart so high, and with so great advantages, that she will never cast her eyes but upon a great King: I never hoped, replied I to him, that my thoughts should be approved of by the Princess (though I might truly say, that when they shall be known, she will have no cause to condemn them) and I never had the intention to let her know them, so long as I had power enough to manage my reason; but I must tell you, Artamenes, that though a common discretion might represent to me something of rash and extravagant in my passion, yet I do not find myself capable of loving any thing inferior to Arsinoe, and I have so much disdain, without being able to imagine the cause, for all that is below her, that I am not able to turn my thoughts towards it for a moment with the least engagement. I know I can hope for no fruit from an affection so disproportionable; but this is fruit great enough for me, that I have the honour to love so amiable, and so great a Princess, and I will never complain of my passion, seeing that it hath not subjected me but only to that Person of the World which is most worthy of my submissions. Possible it is, that a little virtue, which perhaps will raise me above the rank of common Persons, may do something more advantageous for me, and though I will expect nothing with too much confidence, yet I will despair of nothing from a Fortune whereof I will make a good part myself. You are worthy, replied Artamenes, you are worthy, Dear Britomarus, of all you can desire. I find in you all the marks of a real Grandeur in so marvellous a lustre, that there must needs be no Justice in the conduct of our destinies, if Heaven do not act for you after an extraordinary fashion: Persevere in your high inclinations, seeing that it is impossible for you to abuse them, and that I cannot now counsel you to it myself without repugnance; but remember that you ought to hope more from the advantages you shall gain upon the spirit of the Princess, than from the acknowledgement of the King her Brother; and though he esteems your valour for the service he receives from thence, and for an inclination sufficiently warlike in himself, yet be pleased to know, that according to the judgement which is already made of his haughty nature, you ought to expect nothing from him by your services which is not agreeable to his dignity. Artamenes spoke to me in this manner, and we had had more discourse upon this subject, if we had not been interrupted by some persons which came into the place where we were, and intermingled themselves in our conversation.  
In the mean while my passion augmenting, made me more melancholy and solitary than ordinary, it made me oftentimes to avoid the assemblies of great companies, and the societies wherein I was accustomed to entertain myself, and for the most part when I paid the visits to which I was particularly obliged, and could disengage myself from Artamenes, whose friendship and sight were really very dear to me, I went alone to take my walks in the most retired places, and there I entertained myself whole hours together, with the fair Idea which I had in my heart. I was often surprised there by Artamenes who took care to find me out, and though he opposed this change of my humour, yet he knew he had cause enough to pardon me for it.  
One day having sought my solitary walk in the King's Park, which is near one of the Gates of Artaxata, and suffering myself to be carried by my agreeable imaginations into the most private Allies, in a quarter where divers Allies met, I lighted upon the two Princesses, who with divers Ladies of her ordinary train, sought their divertisement in the Wood Although I endeavoured to avoid other companies which might divert me from my flattering thoughts, yet that of Arsinoe had charms for me which I could not fly, and I no sooner saw her appear, but instead of retiring, as I should have done for any other encounter, I advanced before her with a little emotion which might have been perceived in my countenance if it had been curiously observed. The Princess looked graciously upon me, and receiving me with a deportment Majestically courteous: What Britomarus, said she, are you then become melancholy since you came amongst us, and do you now seek solitude in a Country wherein your virtue hath already gained so much acquaintance? At a discourse so obliging, I expressed as much humility as I could possible, and endeavouring to vanquish a weakness which we naturally have for that we love: Madam, replied I, the satisfaction of the Persons whom I honour, is as dear to me as mine own, and I do all that I can possible to spare my Friends the trouble of my bad company: Say rather, answered the Princess, that you find in yourself, that which you cannot find in others, and that your thoughts entertain you more agreeably than the company of your Friends can do: Your Highness, replied I, hath spoken part of the truth, and certain it is that I can hardly find in the conversation of my Friends, the entertainment which my thoughts may furnish me withal. But Britomarus, said Arsinoe, shall not we be too curious if we should desire to know something of these thoughts which we judge to be very sublime by the knowledge which we have of your courage? And may it be permitted to ask you if it be Love or War which furnishes you with the matter of them? my inclinations, answered I, lean no more to War than to Love, but in that which you call War, and that which you call Love, I find War altogether, and the God which is Precedent of War, doth not cause more cruel combats amongst Men, than those which the God of Love excites in our spirits: I believed, replied the Princess, that that which you call Love, had been a more pleasing passion than you present it to be, but seeing it is so dangerous by the effects which it produces, it ought to be avoided with precautions proportionable to the greatness of the evils which it may make one suffer. It is certhin, said I, that Love hath its sweets; but it hath likewise its bitterness, capable at least to counterbalance its sweetness: and as there is no felicity comparable to that of a spirit satisfied in its Love; so there is no such hard condition as that of a Lover to whom Fortune is contrary in his passion: Divers things in Love contribute and concur to our felicity, the satisfaction of loving a thing amiable to our eyes and judgement, the facility of giving testimonies to it for our Love, and that which is yet more powerful, the assent of the Person beloved, and the correspondence to our affection; and it is very true, that when a Lover is arrived to this degree of happiness, there is nothing amongst all the things in the world which is not infinitely below him: but those benefits are sufficiently equalised by evils as powerful, and we are not more happy by these good successes, than we render ourselves unfortunate by the cruel inquietudes which torment us by pains of absence, the vexation of jealousy, and more than all by the insensibility or repugnance of the Person beloved. Upon this account, said the Printess Artemisa, who till now had not spoken, they which are well advised, being in a peaceable and quiet condition of life, will never cast themselves into this passion, wherein good and ill are confounded together, and wherein the evils far exceed the good. The choice of these two conditions, replied I, is not ordinarily in our power, and it is neither by the counsel of our Friends, nor of reason itself, that our minds are most frequently engaged; but by a violence which beauty exercises upon our Souls, and by forces which ours are not capable to resist: but if the election should depend upon our will, I shall never be of their party, who prefer this tranquillity or rather indolency of life before the benefits purchased by some afflictions, and I shall never complain of the days and years of my sufferings, if they be only accompanied with hope which may sweeten them, and if by them I may attain to the least degree of this supreme fortune. You discourse of this passion, answered Arsinoe smiling, as if you had grown old in it, and yet you have passed so few years, that you have hardly had time to take notice of what you describe, having performed so many brave actions as you have done in so small a time. By this preference, said I, which tranquillity may have in some spirits above a disquieted life, I should be happy if the judgement which your Highness makes of my condition were true: but although in this passion whereinto I am fallen by my destiny, and by powers wholly celestial, besides the evils which I have spoken of, diverse others more great and more formidable do yet prepare themselves against me, and that by my last misfortune I am abandoned by the hope which might render them supportable, yet I should be very sorry to return to my former condition, and to change these torments, which for me are glorious, with the repose wherein I have passed the first years of my life: Can it be possible added the Princess, that you should lose it in this Court, and that during the little stay you have made here, there should be found a beauty capable to stay you with us? you, who by the report of those who are acquainted with your inclinations, are of an humour to transport yourself into all places whither the occasions of honour and war invite you: It is certain, Madam, said I to her, that I have found their chains strong enough to captivate the freest souls, and that all the power which the considerations of glory can have over our spirits is not capable to defend us against the prevalency of a divine beauty: I hope, answered Arsinoe, that we should one day know the beauty which hath done us this good office, and if we have not credit enough to learn it at this time from your own mouth, time and your actions will discover it to us hereafter. That shall be, replied I, as late as possibly I can, and if this too audacious flame doth not of itself bring to light the cause which kindled it, my mouth will hardly dispose itself to betray it, and to discover the secret of an heart, which hath no way to establish the remainder of its repose, but only in silence. We had, during the walk of the Princesses whom I had the honour to accompany till their return, divers other discourses upon the same subject, without any farther declaring of myself, and the goodness of the Princess made me lose nothing of the respect and fear, which kept my tongue in restraint. From this day forward she questioned me a little upon what I had confessed, but it was always with an obliging discretion, and the marvellous moderation with which she regulated all her actions hindered her from pressing me, for fear of creating me a displeasure.  
In the mean while it was the pleasure of fortune that in the Court of Armenia there were Ladies by whom I was not hated, and amongst those which were neither of a mean rank nor beauty, there were some which gave me testimonies of their friendship, whereof possibly any other but myself would not have been insensible: but my soul being prepossessed, and I being transported by the immoderate ambition which hath always elevated my thoughts above myself, I dis-esteemed that which other persons in a condition like to mine would without doubt have looked upon with obligation. Yet Cynthia a Lady really very beautiful, of an excellent spirit, and born of an illustrious family amongst the Armenians, obliged me both by the proofs of her affection, and the qualities of her person, to consider her with more attention than others, and remarking in her parts good enough to persuade them that might observe me, that she was capable to make me love her, I was not sorry that some small services which I rendered her, served as covering to my true passion, and took away all knowledge and suspicion of it from persons who without doubt would not have approved of it. Cynthia, not without reason, being prepossessed with a good opinion enough of herself, and flattered by the inclination she had for me, easily believed that I loved her, and to keep me in this humour she forgot nothing on her part which an honest Maid might contribute thereunto. She was always near the Princesses, and particularly engaged to Arsinoe, who esteemed and favoured her above all the Ladies of the Court. The merit of this Lady, and the obligation I had to her gave me really particular considerations for her; but as I have a soul incapable of all kind of dissimulation, I never inclined my spirit to counterfeit transports and torments which she never made me suffer. I should have had too much repugnance for this action, and besides the impossibility which I have to disguise myself, I should have thought it contrary to good breeding to abuse the spirit of a Lady worthy of other usage, and of a real esteem: but only having noted by divers very evident marks that she had affection for me, I was willing to testify unto her above all others that I was not ingrateful to her goodness; I rendered her visits with great assiduity, and gave her often to understand by my discourses, the advantages which were remarkable in her person; and if at any time I intermingled any thing which might seem to proceed from any other original than acknowledgement and esteem, it was with so much reservation, and so little engagement, that she could find no reasonable ground to persuade herself that I was passionate for her. Yet for all that she was apt to believe it, and observing the difference between the manner of my conversation with her, and my carriage towards others, she easily imagined that she had produced in me part of that which was observed in the change of my humour.  
I upheld her, as I told you, in this belief so long, as I was not importuned upon that account, and that it served to conceal my real passion, and during this time there passed divers conversations betwixt us, which I will not repeat unto you, because the discourse would be too long, and amongst the great things I have to tell you, I hold it not important to the relation of my life: but when she would appropriate all my cares to herself, and have me quit all things to attend and serve her, and that she herself made propositions to me of nearer engagement in relation to Marriage, I made conscience of suffering her to continue any longer in her error, and endeavoured to put her out of it by the sweetest ways possible.  
One day after she had made me a long discourse to oblige me to desire the consent of her Parents, that I might be engaged to a tie to which I had no thought to submit myself: Fair Cynthia, said I to her, methinks you should not use precipitation in an affair of such importance: I have been so small a time in your sight and service, that you hardly have any knowledge of my nature: besides, I am in a condition wherein, without doubt, your Parents will disapprove of my pretensions: I am born without estate, in a fortune disproportionable to yours, and without any other advantages than what I may hope for from my Sword: It hath begun to do me successful service, and before the twentieth year of my age, by that alone I find myself prompted to conceive the highest hopes; let us attend some effect thereof with patience, and give me leave to see myself in a condition to obtain the approbation of your Friends, before I put myself in danger of being exposed to their disesteem. You need not fear, replied Cynthia, the disesteem of those who already esteem your person much more than riches, for want of which, you believe they might disdain you; and besides that, your virtue, which is more considerable to me than all the advantages of fortune may produce the same effect in the minds of my parents: they see you in such a degree of esteem with the King, that by his favour you may aspire to the highest dignities. If there be any apparent reason, answered I, to conceive these hopes, let us attend some part of them, to the end that I may, with better grace, offer to you and others a person more worthy to be presented unto you.  
By these discourses I stayed for a while the impatience of Cynthia, and defended myself against her propositions, not having confidence enough to declare unto her the small power I had to submit myself to what she desired of me, but by the continuance of these pursuits, though founded upon a very great appearance, and by diminishing my addresses wherein she saw me grow the colder for her pressing me, she began to open her eyes to part of the truth, and to perceive that all the services I rendered her might proceed only from esteem and good will, without my being possessed with any stronger passion for her. She daily confirmed herself in this opinion with a very sensible grief, and at last all her modesty could not hinder her from declaring to me with some earnestness the regret she had for it. She had obliged me one day by a very pressing solicitation to fall into a discourse with her little different from that which I related unto you, and this last time hearing me with impatiance: Britomarus, said she to me, pay me no more with these reasons, which I cannot conceive from you any longer as current, after I have so much resisted them, and allege nothing to defend yourself from the testimonies of my affection, but the only want of your own: there it is only that you can find your excuse, and I should be stark blind if I did not clearly perceive that you never loved me. These words at first surprised me, but after I had digested them a little, I was not altogether sorry that they gave me opportunity to free myself from a very great difficulty, and having taken a resolution whereunto my mind did not apply itself without some trouble: Cynthia, said to her, you may really believe that I love you, and shall love you so long as I live, as the qualities of your person and your goodness hath obliged me, and when you shall see me wanting in this acknowledgement and resentment, I give you leave to account me the most ingrateful and unworthy of all men: This is a truth which I will seal unto you with my blood, if you require it of me: but Cynthia— make an end, said she, interrupting me with impatience, and tell me, as I expect, that I must be contented with a single acknowledgement, and the good will only of a man which hath other pretensions. I will not make my confession to you in these terms, replied I to her, and I should not have courage enough to acknowledge the truth, if you yourself had not removed the difficulty; but seeing you will have it so, and that I esteem you too really to abuse you, I will tell you that destiny rather than reason hath disposed of my soul, and before that ever I had spoken to you, I was in a condition to receive no other resentments for you than those of esteem, respect, and good will.  
I made Cynthia this discourse with my eyes cast down, and she was so touched with it, that having beheld me sometime with all the marks of a violent regret, and not having the power to express herself by any discourse, she rose from the place where she sat, and retired into her Closet and shut the door after her: I was really moved at this displeasure, which I noted in her action and her visage, and all that day, and divers others, I was not able absolutely to free myself from some small remorses; but in the conclusion, I was not born for Cynthia, and by my destiny I was ordained for other things than to pass my days with Cynthia.  
In the interim, this Lady, transported with despite, resolved to break off all kind of society with me, and when I would have visited her again, she oftentimes sent me word that she was indisposed; and at last prayed me to render her no more visits: though this order was not capable to afflict me much, yet I received it with some trouble, and I told the Maid that brought it, that I would constrain myself to obey her Mistress, and that all the repugnance she had for me, should never hinder me from honouring and loving her, and applying myself to her interests all the days of my life.  
In the mean time, seeing myself discharged of a trouble very contrary to my nature, I pursued as I thought, the motions of my love with more liberty, and of two constraints being now obliged to one only, I considered Arsinoe directly, without diverting at all my thoughts from her: O Gods! what did I suffer by this rigorous violence, which I was constrained to exercise upon myself, and how often should I have had my mouth open to say unto the Princess, I die for you, if fear had not stopped me, and taken away all the boldness which I received from Heaven? For something she found in a conversation which did not please her, she often did me the honour to discourse with me, and in these agreeable moments, if my tongue did not give my heart the succour which it demanded, my eyes did express for it thoughts, which Arsinoe being so intelligent as she was, might easily have perceived, if the dis-proportion between us had not diverted hers, or if she could have imagined in me an ambition so little conformable to my life, with some lustre, and gave me hope of being advanced to the highest dignities, if the actions I should do for his service should be answerable to the beginnings. The Prince Ariobarzanes his Brother, who was then about seventeen or eighteen years of age, and in whom, besides his beauty, and one of the most sublime deportments of the world, all admirable qualities were remarkable, testified a particular affection unto me, and let slip no occasion of rendering me all kinds of good offices: He did me the honour to make me one in all the parts of gallantry, which he performed either in courses on horseback, or the combats of divertisement; and if he found that I came off with some address, I must needs confess that his also, not without reason, was admired by the whole world, and that in all particulars he gave marvellous hopes of his future excellency. Artamenes and I were seldom asunder, and at this time he acknowledged that he had unjustly blamed in me the effects which Love could produce without consulting with reason, and what resistance soever he would have made, at last he yielded himself to the powers of the Princess Artemisa, and out of the confidence he had in me he presently discovered his passion to me, and instead of condemning it, I found therein matter of great consolation to myself, I encouraged him to it as much as possibly I could, and represented to him divers times that a good courage ought to fix itself upon sublime thoughts, and that to despise common things, and to aspire to the highest, was the only means to exempt a man from the rank of the vulgar. Artamenes defended himself a while by the knowledge which he had, that it was only for Kings, and not for the subjects of their Brother that the Princesses of Armenia were destined: but he defended himself to no purpose, and at last laid his liberty at Artemisa's feet: We began thence forward to sympathise, and to entertain ourselves reciprocally with the effects which our passion produced in our spirits, without concealing any thing from each other. Because of the rank which Artamenes held in Armenia, there was less temerity in his thoughts than in mine, and except the Sisters of his King, he might without presumption pretend to any of the Ladies of the highest quality, yet this did not increase his boldness, and he suffered as well as I, during the time we passed together, without daring to open his mouth to discover his Love.  
Mean time the season approached for our Army to take the field, and the King, whose will it was as in former years to return thither in person, after the winter was past, hastened all the preparations for our departure. All this time was slipped away, and I had never the confidence to speak, and certainly I had gone away in the same condition, if my destiny which called me to other things had not presented me with occasions to discover myself, which I never expected. Cynthia in whose soul despite had powerfully operated, though possibly she had extinguished all the affection she had for me, yet she was not so far interessed but that she had great desire to know the subject of my real inclinations: and as she was privy to all the acquaintance I had, and knew all the Persons whose company I frequented, she believed it would not be very difficult to discover the truth. She began to be very industrious therein, and as it is much more hard to deceive persons interessed, than those which observe us without any particular design, and that besides I had little disposition, or address to dissemble my thoughts, that which had been concealed from the eyes of others begun quickly to appear to hers; and if she were not certainly assured of the truth, she conceived at least great suspicions, wherein by the observation of all my actions she confirmed herself more and more: I believe she found some consolation in this discovery, and the dignity of the cause made her support my usage towards her with greater patience, than she did whilst she was ignorant of it. She was almost continually with the Princesses, and seeing me there every day she had leisure enough to take notice of my regards, my sighs, and all the other signs whereby a passion might be discovered. All the Court knew the familiarity between us, but I discovered our rupture to none but to Artamenes, and though I did not visit Cynthia at her own house, yet in the presence of the Princesses I accosted her as before: and she constrained herself before the World to carry herself towards me in appearance as she had been accustomed to do, and not to make her resentments break out, the cause whereof would have been disadvantageous unto her. This was that which retained part of the Persons of the Court in the opinion which they had conceived, that I had affection for her: The Princesses themselves, and particularly Arsinoe, with whom Cynthia was more familiar than with her Sister, oftentimes questioned her about it; and though by this discourse the despite of Cynthia was augmented, yet she durst not express it, and she suffered it a while with a seeming patience: but at last this moderation failed her, and whether it were by resentment, which possibly had animated her against the imprudence of her age, she was carried away contrary to my thought, and whatever might probably be expected from her. The Princess was walking upon a ballistred Terrace belonging to her lodging, leaning upon Cinthia's arm, and the rest of her train believing she would entertain her particularly, retired to the other end, and left them free in their conversations. They had been discoursing some time together when I came, and the Princess, who at that time was speaking of me, no sooner saw me, but called me to her, and did me the honour to make me the third person in their entertainment. Cynthia blushed at my coming, and the Princess taking occasion to continue the war she had made her: Ah well Cynthia, said she to her, you blush at it, and by your countenance discover that to me, which your mouth hath so long disavowed: I make no further doubt but that you are the cause of the melancholy and all the inquietudes of Britomarus, and besides what I have learned from the public voice of the Court, I see marks which sufficiently declare the truth. Cynthia was almost quite out of countenance at this discourse, which the Princess made her in my presence, and not being able to imagine whether she questioned her upon appearances and the common opinion, or whether having knowledge of the truth, and the little esteem I had of her affection, she would join with me to mock her, and make her serve for divertisement in an occasion wherein she found so much subject of displeasure, she was ready to die with despite and could hardly find in all the respect she had for the Princess, so much power as to contain herself. I was but a little more assured, and the confusion of us both confirming Arsinoe in her suspicions: you confess enough both of you, continued she with a very good grace, To remove all uncertainty that might remain in my mind, and I hope Cynthia, from the amity I have for you, that henceforth you will not use so much subtlety and dissimulation with me. At this recharge Cynthia lost all patience, and after she had several times changed colour in a few moments: Madam, said she to her, your Highness diverts itself at my cost, and possibly you well know that it is not to me that Britomarus addresses his thoughts, and that he hath far higher pretensions: At these words knowing that out of the despite which transported her, she transcended the bounds of discretion, and was about to speak things in my presence, which could not but put me into a confusion, I would have retired; but the Princess staying me by the arm: Tarry Britomarus, said she to me, and seeing that I interess myself in your affairs, suffer me to understand a little more of them: Ah! well Cynthia, continued she, turning towards her, you persevere then in your dissimulation towards me, and you would have me believe that Britomarus hath higher thoughts than Cynthia: Perhaps you know better than I, replied Cynthia, but if you do not, your urgency possibly will force me to tell you more than the respect I have for you ought to permit me: Ah Cynthia, said the Princess to her smiling, provided you satisfy my curiosity I pardon you for all things; but seeing it is not to yourself, I will not let you rest in quiet till I know to whom the thoughts of Britomarus are addressed: Cynthia out of the violence of her despite totally lost all respect and discretion, and looking upon the Princess with a more assured countenance than before: It is to yourself Madam, said she to her, and Britomarus, since you force me to tell you so, hath presumption enough to aspire to yourself: At these words she parted from us, and left me alone with the Princess in an astonishment which can hardly be represented. Arsinoe remained in no less confusion, and repenting that she had drawn this displeasure upon herself by pressing Cynthia so far, she continued a long time without daring to look up in my face. My eyes were fixed upon the earth with an action whereby I was more convicted than by the discourse of Cynthia, and when the Princess began to look upon me, she saw me in a condition that perfectly expressed to her the disorder of my soul: this sight causing her to make a reflection in a moment upon divers of my actions, presently gave her suspicion, and joining to Cinthia's discourse and my troubled countenance, the memory of a great many things which then appeared to her in another form than they had done formerly, she believed part of that which this enraged Maid would have persuaded her to: yet as she was of an admirable prudence and reservedness, she believed herself to be obliged for divers reasons to dissemble her belief, and endeavouring to dissipate her astonishment as speedily as possibly she could: I did not believe, said she to me, that Cynthia had had so little discretion, and you must needs have done her some signal displeasure, seeing that her resentment hath made her commit such follies: The Princess spoke these words to me with an action so full of sweetness, that I was deceived thereby, and my Spirit, which till then stood in great awe of her, assumed from these appearances of goodness, a boldness above what I naturally had. At last whether this confidence obliged me to it, or whether I had not force enough in this encounter to resist the impetuosity of my Love, my indiscretion followed that of Cynthia, and giving an answer to the words of the Princess without daring to look upon her: It is certain Madam, said I to her, that Cynthia 's resentments against me must needs be great, seeing that they carry her on to ruin, and make her publish a crime for which I should hardly hope from a less goodness than your own: The Princess at these words was much more troubled than before, and breaking silence with a great deal of precipitation: What Britomarus said she to me, are you then culpable of that which Cynthia reproached you with? I should sooner have suffered death, replied I, then have declared it, and I should yet expose myself to all kinds of pains rather than confess it, if your Highness, whom I cannot disobey, did not demand the truth of me. I am not ignorant of the disproportion which renders my thoughts criminal, and thoughts in adorations proportion is not necessary, and that with thoughts like those I have for you, we may raise our eyes even to the Gods themselves, yet out of a more profound respect than what we usually pay the Gods, I should have concealed even to my grave, that which out of fear to displeasure you, both my heart and mouth ought eternally to keep secret from you, if by Cinthia's indiscretion my crime had not been discovered contrary to my intention, and if by her fault I did not see myself necessitated to acknowledge my own whereby possibly I expose myself to torments equal to my ambition; I should have said more, and the astonishment of the Princess gave me time enough to make her a long discourse, if out of a little assurance which I recovered I had not advanced my eyes to her face, wherein I beheld all the marks of a violent displeasure.  
At this bold declaration, which appeared very offensive to her from a man infinitely inferior to her, resentment took the first place in her mind, which presently represented to her, that such an insolence as mine ought not to remain unpunished; and in this thought she continued some time unresolved which way to proceed to my chastisement: but by the moderation of her spirit, she repressed her first emotions, and having an admirable command of herself, she quickly reduced her choler to such terms as she was pleased to give it, and whether it were in relation to herself that she feared the publication of a thing which might redound to her shame and dishonour, or out of a real effect of her goodness she would not expose me to all the pains which in her opinion were due to me, she disposed herself not to pardon my fault, but to punish me without noise, and to cut off all possibility of a relapse. Having framed this resolution, after she had kept silence a great while: I am sorry, said she, that by your presumption you have made me lose the dispositions I had to esteem you, out of the good opinion I had of you, and if I did as I should, I should reduce you to the knowledge of yourself by such ways as you have obliged me to; but the same goodness, which you have so imprudently abused, leaves your fault unpunished, upon condition that you speak no more to me as long as you live, and that you do not permit your ambition to aspire higher than Cynthia or her equals: Ending these words with an action and a look which sufficiently expressed her disdain, she retired herself towards those which were at the other end of the Terrace, and left me alone in a condition full of displeasure and confusion: In effect I was so moved with this accident, that all my natural constancy was not capable to preserve my soul from a great disorder: Grief, shame, and regret first took their place there, and I know not which of these passions did most powerfully possess me: I was extremely afflicted at the ill success of my declaration, and the little hope I saw in the pursuit of my love, being ashamed to see my pride checked, and my ambition humbled, and stung with the resentment of disdain whereunto my spirit could never accustom itself, neither for love nor any other passion. All the enemies of my repose began to torment me with violence, and upon this Terrace from whence the Princesses a little after retired themselves, and whereupon I walked alone a long time, I found my spirit much more agitated than it had been in all the other passages of my life: All the night which followed this day, I could not get so much as a taste of sleep, and the change which I found in my condition presenting itself continually to my memory, left no repose at all in my soul, and tormented it with the most cruel inquietudes that it ever yet had felt. What wilt thou do, said I, what wilt thou do unfortunate Britomarus in a design so unluckily miscarried, and in an occasion wherein thou art repulsed, disdained, and forbidden to speak for ever? Thou hast rashly raised thine eyes to a Princess worthy of other adorations than thine, and by too audaciously advancing thyself, thy fall is become much greater and more dangerous: Arsinoe not without reason hath humbled thy immoderate pride, and from these ambitious thoughts, whereby like a new Icarus thou tookest too high flight, there remains nothing to thee but shame, disorder, and confusion: This Princess whom thou hast offended by thy love, and the foolish declaration of it, and whom by the last action thou hast made to lose the opinion she had conceived of thee for the former, justly reduces thee to the knowledge of thyself, and she does it with sweetness, when possibly thou hast obliged her to do it with rigour. Besides, what hope couldst thou conceive in this conduct of thy life, and with what assurance couldst thou believe, that one of the greatest Princesses of the world, and a Princess born with a courage worthy of her birth and the admirable qualities of her person, could approve the passion of a man of no name, of no birth, and without any dignity which might render him superior to the common sort of men? I accused myself a while in this manner, but a little after I understood also my own defence, and out of a natural inclination which we have to excuse and flatter ourselves, I sought ways to justify my presumption, and reasons to combat with the rigour of Arsinoe: Thou wert not so low either by thy birth or fortune, said I, that Arsinoe ought to look upon thy love as a great crime, and if she had a spirit so remote from common thoughts as thou didst believe, she might well have understood that by thy Virtue thou mightest equalise thyself with those whom chance had put above thee: thy passion in this condition of respect and veneration wherein it kept itself, could not be offensive to any Princess in the World, and if thou didst not merit acknowledgement, thou didst not likewise deserve disdain and indignation. The Gods only punish thee by that which is most unsupportable to thy courage for the fault thou hast committed in embarking thyself so lightly in a second Love, after thou hadst scaped suffering shipwreck in the former: Thou art without doubt, called by the destiny to some other thing than Love; and thou oughtest not to spend thy best days in this passion, whereby thou wilt never attain neither to the reputation thou aspirest unto, nor to those ranks which may put thee out of danger of disdain and bad usage: follow then thy inclinations, which draw thee to employments more worthy of thee, and more conformable to thy courage; quit Arsinoe, who disdains thee, for glory, who opens her arms to receive thee; and by this valonr, the beginnings whereof have been so fortunate, put thyself into a condition, that thou mayst no longer stand in fear of the disdains either of Arsinoe or any other person in the world. This resolution wherein I encouraged myself as much as was possible, was a little after overthrown by the memory of Arsinoe, and dissipated by powers against which I had not as yet drawn up my last reserves; but in few moments my resentments, and the natural aversion I had against disdain returned it again into my spirit, and fortified it there in such sort, that, before the day appeared, I found myself greatly inclined to follow it: I discovered my disgrace to Artamenes only, who bemoaned me and comforted me the best he possibly could, and who trembled at this example in relation to his own interest, though by the rank which he held in Armenia he might with more likelihood declare his affections to the Princess Artemisa. My misfortune sensibly afflicted me, and kept me some days in a very bad condition: but at last I sought neither dagger, nor poison, nor precipices but by an effort of my courage I confirmed myself in the resolution either to render myself such by my sword as that Arsinoe, as great a Princess as she was, should have no more reason to disdain me, or to use all my endeavours by time, absence, and by the memory of her scorn to deprive her of the Empire which she had over my Soul. I was confirmed in this design by the after usage that I received from this Princess, who in the places where I chanched to be at her passing by, did not so much as vouchsafe to give me a look, and in those places where she believed I might accost her, she so absolutely took away all assurance from me by a visage full of coldness and disdain, that I easily understood, that in the condition wherein I then was, all hope of hope for me was extinguished. She would not so much as suffer me to take my leave of her when we parted from Artaxata to return to the army, and she said to one of her Ladies who desired permission for me: Tell Britomarus that I have concealed his insolence for fear of making the King my brother lose a valiant servant and that he ought not to hope that I will see him, till be hath learned to know himself. All these usages in a spirit like mine certainly produced effects capable to advance my cure, and I was already determined to seek by it all manner of ways when we returned into the field.  
The King of Armenia marched at the head of the last troops he had raised, toward that siontire of Media, where he had begun his progress, and I followed him with one of the best employments in his Army: The King of the Medes came in person, as he did in the precedent years to the defence of his Country; and in the beginning of our taking the field were divers battles fought, wherein fortune was as favourable to me as I could desire, and wherein I rendered myself so considerable to the King of Armenia, that to the prejudice of divers persons which by their birth and services might aspire to higher dignities, his pleasure was that I should command a Body of an Army separated from his own, and composed of the better part of his troops; with this employment wherein I engaged myself with great inclination and fixedness I endeavoured to shake off the yoke which Arsinoe had imposed upon me, and if I could not easily accomplish it, yet certain it is, that I made great progress in it: One only thing made me serve under Artaxus with repugnance, and that was the rigour which he observed in this war, where under pretext of revenging the death of his Father, he caused all the enemies which fell into his power to be put to the sword without mercy. The aversion which I naturally have against cruelty, made me often take the liberty to condemn his: but though he attributed very much to my thoughts in matters of war, he would not hearken to them when I preached clemency unto him, but remained firm in his resolution to pursue with fire and sword the hateful blood of those who contributed to the death of King Artibasus.  
At this time by the great advantages we gained, Media began to totter, and Tigranes was really in great danger to see himself entirely ruined, if the Gods had not sent him succour: The King of Cilicia his ally, and the Prince Philadelph his Son came with a puissant army to his assistance, and revived his almost dying hopes. By so great a supply, the face of things began to be changed, and we having to deal with a power greater than our own, we proceeded with more caution than before, and thought now upon defending ourselves, whereas before all our thoughts were only bend upon assaulting the Enemy. Several bettels were fought the success whereof was doubtful, wherein the advantage inclined sometimes to the one, sometimes to the other party; but in the last, wherein I was for the King of Armenia's service, the glory was entirely mine, which not withstanding was counterballanced with one of the most sensible displeasures that ever I received in my life.  
Ariston and Theomedes two Nephews of the King of Cilicia, being departed from their Camp with 2000 Horse and 5 or 6000 Foot, to go and surprise a small place which we had taken the year before, and the King of Armenia having intelligence of their march, and the condition they were in, thought good that with a number of men little different from theirs, I should go and encounter them, and fight them as I should find occasion. I departed; I marched with great diligence, and met the enemies before they were arrived at the place which they went to surprise. The fight began, and was maintained doubtful a long time, but at length the victory fell to us, and it fell to us so entire, that almost all the Soldiers of the enemy were cut in pieces, and the two chief Commanders being preserved alive in the battle, by the care I took of their safety, remained my prisoners. I comforted them for their disgrace, I promised them all manner of good usage, and I returned from thence with my troop being victorious and laden with spoils, to the King of Armenia; he made me a welcome which sufficiently testified what notice he took of this action, and expressed an excessive joy for my good success and the taking of the two Cilician Princes, whom he presently put under a strict guard, and employed almost all the rest of this day in praising and caressing me. Upon the morrow I no sooner appeared before him, but he fell again upon my praises, and in terms full of Eulogies extolled in the presence of the Principal Commanders this last action, promising me for it excessive recompense. I than took my time for a request which I had to make, and after that I had answered the praises he gave me with as much modesty as I possibly could: Sir, said I to him, this slight action whereupon your Majesty sets so high an esteem, is too well recompensed by the goodness you show in accepting of it; but if your Majesty judges me worthy to obtain any thing as a reward of this petty service, I request of you the liberty of the two chief Commanders of the enemy, which I brought prisoners, and which yielded themselves to me upon the hope I gave them of being treated conformable to their condition: Britomarus, replied the King to me, with an action which expressed the little intention he had to grant me what I had desired of him, your services are worthy without doubt of a greater recompense than what you desire of me, and I shall requite you for them in such a manner that you shall have no reason to judge me ungrateful; but I cannot grant you this you demand of me without violating an oath, which all humane considerations are not capable to make me infringe; and I do not so much esteem the other fruits of your victory, and all the progress we have in the beginning of this Campania, as I do the means I have to let the King of Cilicia know by the present I will send him of his two Kinsman's heads, after what manner I mean to make war with him, and how ill advised he hath been to bear arms against a Prince which never offended him. These cruel words of Artaxus made me tremble, and beholding him with some horror: What, Sir, said I to him, can you find in your heart to put to death two prisoners of war so highly descended as Ariston and Theomedes? And though I should not request their lives of you for all the services I have rendered you, can you take them away from Princes escaped from the heat of the battle, taken with their Swords in their hand in a just war, and which never did you any particular offence? The King did not approve of the liberty of my speech, and answered me with a more serious countenance than before: I shall be able to do it without doubt, and in revenge of my Father, I shall yet do things which may seem to you more cruel, which nevertheless pass for just in my lawful resentments: but do not alarm yourself any more at it, and be not so earnest for a thing wherein you have so little interest. Have I but little interest in't it, Sir, replied I, Ah! I have interest in it as in the defence of my own life, as in the conservation of my own honour, and when either of them shall be in the extremity of danger I shall not be more interessed: It is by my means that you have these prisoners in your power; it was to me they rendered themselves whilst yet they had their arms in their hands, whereby they might have found either safety or a glorious death, and I cannot see them come to be put to death upon my parole, without exposing myself with them to the greatest cruelty that your resentment prepares for them: you forget yourself, said Artaxus to me, bending his brows, and possible it would be better for you to contain yourself within the bounds of respect, and not fly out in this manner for enemies, which must and shall Perish, though all the world should join their solicitations with yours for their safety: And I will perish with them, replied I so transported, that I had hardly any understanding left to consider his dignity, and I cannot part with my life with less regret than in sacrificing it to my word, and compassion for these men, and the displeasure to see my services so ungratefully acknowledged: you have received them from my inclination and not from my duty, and it is by my own will only that I am engaged to give you that respect you require of me, which by my birth you cannot exact of a man that was not born your subject: The choler of the King of Armenia was mightily moved at these words, and looking upon me with eyes sparkling with indignation: Insolent, said he to me, it is the rank whereunto by an excess of favour I have advanced thee, that puts thee besides the knowledge of thyself: but know that I shall find ways to humble thee as much as I have unjustly advanced thee, and that I shall lay thee so low, if thou dost not cease from provoking me, that possibly thou shalt serve for an example to those whom immoderate presumption makes to transgress the limits which their birth hath prescribed them: Ending these words full of disdain and outrage to an heart like mine, he turned another way without giving me time to reply. I should have done it for all that, how Tragical soever the reply would have been to me, if Artamenes had not opposed it, and with divers others of my friends which had been present at this conversation, had he not led me to my Tent, so inflamed with choler and transported, that I was hardly capable of suffering the violence they did me with any moderation. When I was in my Tent, and that I had made a reflection of some few moments upon my adventure, and the unworthy usage I received, turning myself to Artamenes, and those that were with him: My friends, said I to them, behold me subjected to more outrage and indignity than I ought to expect from my services; and besides the injurious words wherewith Artaxus had a mind to humble me, I see myself by the death of these two unfortunate men which he is about to sacrifice to his cruelty, exposed to the most sensible displeasure that my soul is capable to receive: I do little esteem the words and disdain of Artaxus, upon whom I never had any design to bottom my Fortune: Henceforward the favours of a King is he is, shall be less dear and glorious to me, and I disesteem them too much to purchase them with the least compliance, or to receive them when they shall be offered me; but in things wherein my honour is engaged, I will spend my blood to the last drop to defend it, and though I should infallibly lose my life in this design, I will leave nothing unattempted to save the two Cilicians whom I have imprudently delivered up to his cruelty. All those that heard my words could not condemn my resolution, but they saw me in no capacity to execute it, and I was able to do it so little alone against Artaxus, that all I could devise in this design, proved but ridiculous propositions: Artamenes endeavoured to represent so much to me, and appeared interessed in my displeasure as much as a good and generous friend could be, but he could not bend my spirit to an unworthy and base compliance with the intentions of a cruel ingrateful King and I could not conceal from him that I was resolved to arm a party of the Soldiery, whose affections I might conceive I had gained, and go and free the Prisoners by force from the place where they were detained, or of I could not find sufficient courage and affection in the hearts of the Soldiers for so bold an execution, I would go and make myself be killed in defence of these infortunate men, whose death in my opinion ought eternally to be objected to me as a reproach. Artamenes wanted no reasons to oppose against this resolution, neither was he forgetful of them; but our dispute was as unprofitable as any design, and presently after I had quitted Artaxus, this cruel man, or rather monster of cruelty, whether it were that his spirit was more exasperated by the resistance I made against his will, or that he feared lest I should attempt and execute something for the safety of the prisoners, sent the Executioners who beheaded them in Prison without any further delay. The memory hereof makes me tremble, as well for the compassion I had of the destinies of these two men, and the horror I have had all my life of cruel actions, as for the reproach I might receive from my own conscience, though I was innocent, for having contributed to their destruction, after I had promised them life, and usage conformable to their condition.  
Artamenes, and the rest of my friends, were still in my Tent when I received this news, and I confess they saw me break out into discourses and actions wherein there appeared no remainder of reason, which made them fear some Tragical event from the grief and choler which transported me. In these first emotions, I thought and threatened no less than to revenge the blood of those poor wretches upon the person of Artaxus, from whose cruelty the remembrance of my services could not free them: and if those which were present at these menaces, had not been my real Friends, upon the least intelligence given to Artaxus, I had undoubtedly found the death I despised. Artamenes would not abandon me, and guarded me all that day as if I had been a mad man, doing all he possibly could to quiet my spirit from these violences: by his discourses indeed he made me abate the rashness of them; and put me into more moderate terms than before; but for all our friendship, he did in vain oppose the resolution I had taken to quit the service of Artaxus for ever, and to go over to the Enemy, it the remembrance of the mischief I had done them would permit me to hope for a reception there. I will sooner suffer a thousand deaths, said I, than continue any longer in the service of this Barbarian this bloodthirsty Tiger, whom a man cannot serve without rendering himself a complice of his cruelties, this ungrateful Prince, who requites men's services with disdain, rage, and unworthy usage: The only cause which might make me own his interests, ought not any longer to engage me: Arsinoe disdains me as much as her Brother, and if I cannot cease from loving her; yet I ought to cease from seeing and desiring to please her, and to seek a cure far from her, which possibly I may find in an eternal absence, and in other employments, than in suffering unprofitably at her feet.  
Although, in the complaints which I made against Artaxus, I mingled some too against Arsinoe, yet I know well how to put a difference between them, and I did not confound the ingratitude and inhumanity of the Brother, with the severity of the Sister, who was really born with all the great qualities which might render a Princess accomplished. I was not cured of my passion by the usage she had shown me, but I was desirous to be cured, and I did so confirm myself by the injuries which I received of her Brother, that I not only desired, but conceived hope to find repose in my mind, by separating myself both from Artaxus and Arsinoe for ever. My destinies, whereby I was called to something more important than these beginnings of my life which I have related unto you, gave birth to this design, and it was by my destinies that I was disengaged from Artaxus and Arsinoe, to be conducted into places where fortune was as advantageously serviceable to me as I could desire, where I found honours and dignities above my expectation, where I found this ingratitude fatally entailed upon my life, and where I fell into a later engagement, which made me forget Arsinoe, and all things else to give myself entirely up to my last servitude: A servitude a thousand times more dear and more glorious to me, than all the grandeur I could have acquired by my Sword amongst men: a servitude whereof I made but a light essay in my former affections, and whereby at last, after divers uncommon crosses and events, more worthy of your attention than what I have related to you, I might have seen myself advanced to an happiness more sublime than my pretensions, if cruel fortune had not overturned in a moment, and by the last accidents of my life, had not precipitated me into a more deplorable condition than ever my person had been reduced unto.    

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA: OR, Love's Masterpiece. PART V.  
LIB. II.  
ARGUMENT.  
Britomarus' being discomposed by the memory of his disasters, desires to respite the rest of his story; which is granted. Coriolanus and Tyridates walking abroad, light upon a wounded Knight vichly armed. Tyridates invites him to his house, which the Stranger accepts. The next day Coriolanus taking a solitary walk, is insensibly engaged in a pleasant Wood, where by a Brook-side he lies down and falls asleep. Cleopatra and Artemisa accidentally come that way and spy him. Cleopatra knows him, and with a loud exclamation of wonder awakes him. He humbly addresses himself to her. She highly upbraids his infidelity. He desires to know his offence, and as she is about to tell him at Artemisa 's request, she is interrupted by twelve Horsemen, who seize upon the Princess. Coriolanus interposes in their defence, kills five or six, but their number prevails, and they carry away the Ladies. Coriolanus pursuing the ravishers, meets a Knight who quarrels with him; they fight, Coriolanus striketh off his Head-piece, and knows him for Marcellus. Their expostulations and parting. Coriolanus having lost his Horse, wanders all night in the Wood The wounded Stranger gives Tyridates his Story. He discovers himself to be Artaxus King of Armenia, who resolving to revenge his Father's death upon the Children of Anthony and Cleopatra, goes only with twenty men in search of them. At Sea he meets with Cleopatra, and as he is ready to execute his revenge, he is captivated by her Beauty, He resolves to carry her into Armenia. She feigns herself sick, and desires to go on shore; where taking an advantage, she gets away. He pursues and overtakes her, but she is rescued by Philadelph.  
AT these words, Britomarus being touched with a sad and pressing remembrance, changed colour, and his countenance appeared to the two Princes his Auditors, in a condition which made them apparently fear, that he found himself more ill than ordinary. Coxiolanus moved with this fear, and interessing himself very much in the health of this valiant man: I am fearful, said he unto me, lest you have incommodated yourself by the long discourse you have made us, the extraordinary paleness which I take notice of in your visage, gives me apprehensions for your health. The repose of my body, replied Britomarus, hath received but little alteration by my discourse; but that of my mind is not of the same condition, and I confess, that being upon the point of entering upon the recital of my grand misfortunes, whereof these small ones which I have related unto you, are but a kind of a preface, to proceed to the unfortunate estate whereunto my life is now reduced, I find myself so much moved and troubled, that I shall account it no light obligation, if you will please to permit me to refer the remainder of my narration till to morrow: I shall prepare myself against that time, to acquaint you with things undoubtedly more worthy of your attention, than those which I have recounted unto you; and I will recover my spirit as much as I can possibly from the trouble and the perplexity whereinto a sad and deplorable remembrance hath put it.  
Doubt not, replied the Son of Juba to him, how strong sceven the desire is in us to understand the rest of your adventures, but that the care we have of your health and repose is yet more powerful, and that we should be very sorry to purchase the satisfaction which we might receive from thence at such a price. We will hear the conclusion of your fair beginnings, when it shall please you to relate them, and when you can do it without doing yourself any inconvenience, and in the mean while, I will assure you that if the actions of your life, which yet we have not understood, are answerable (as I doubt it not) to those wherewith you have already acquainted us, and the proofs we ourselves have seen of your valour, you had a great deal of reason to believe, that by the advantage of Birth and Crowns, no man could be greater than yourself. It was possibly my error and presumption, answered Britomarus, to believe so, but I believed it only of them, in whom virtue doth not accompany dignity, not of those, which like you Sir, are much less considerable for their Birth than for their Virtue: and for such I always have as much acknowledgement and respect, as I have disesteem for those who are beholding to their fortune for all their splendour.  
We would have spoken more to this purpose, if the two Princes to whom his health was so dear, had not thought that he had need of some repose, and desired him to take it, remitting the remainder of his relation, as he had desired, to the day following. They left his Chamber, but returned not to their own; and because it was a fair day, and Coriolanus his strength permitted him already to walk up and down, they went upon this design to the side of a Wood of high Timber-trees which was near the house, where there were divers private places, and very fair paths, where they might take the advertisement of a walk. In the beginning of theirs, the two Princes fell upon the discourse of Britomarus, and could not forbear admiring at once, that which appeared in the beginnings of his life, in his visage, and in his discourse, of the greatness of his courage.  
Certain it is, said Tyridates, there is nothing but subjects of esteem and edmiration in the person of Britomarus, and all things appeared in him so great and so sublime, that in spite of the confession he hath made us, it is hard to take him for a man of obscure birth: I have already understood from other mouths than his, the greatest part of the actions which he hath recounted unto us, but I know nothing of what is arrived unto him since his departure from Armenia, and I judge by his beginnings, and his discourse itself, that the actions he did afterwards, are yet more remarkable than the former: I am of your opinion, answered Coriolanus, and from such extraordinary beginnings I expect very great things in the pursuance of his relation.  
But what is your judgement, replied Tyridates, of the little constancy he had in his former loves? and how can we comprehend that he transported his affection from Candace to Arsinoe, and since that, as far as I conjecture by his discourse, from Arsinoe to a third, without accusing him of some lightness? By that which you understand of my life, added Coriolanus, you may well judge that inconstancy will have but a bad advocate of me, and I am engaged to that I love with a fidelity too exact to excuse a change: but yet I will tell you, that according to my opinion, Britomarus hath no inconstant spirit, and that I give an entire belief to all that he hath told us concerning his inclinations upon that subject. Divers things in this adventure serve for his justification; his tender years, wherein he was not capable, and had not time to engage himself in a strong passion, and the resentment of disdain, which in souls like his, might produce very strong and very excusable effects: I believe that in the service which I have rendered Cleopatra, I have testified a very entire perseverance, and I will likewise tell you that since I have been engaged in my love, all difficulties, dangers, ill usage, and all humane considerations, have not been capable to divert me from it: but I will confess unto you (if I may confess it without offending the powers of that divine Princess) that if in the birth of that love which I have for her, and at that time when I was no more strongly obliged than Britomarus might be to Arfinoe and Candace, I had noted any disdain in Cleopatra towards me, it would have been capable to have broken off the course of a growing affection, and have made me bestow elsewhere what that Princess had disdained. Britomarus did scarcely love Candace at all, and Arsinoe but a very little; and besides that he was but a child in his first affection, and a very young man in his second instead of meeting therein with some part of those sweets which do engage us yet more powerfully if it be possible than the person beloved merits, he found nothing in the one or the other but repulse insupportable to a courage like his, which had not enslaved itself in such sort, but that it retained liberty to withdraw what before it had bestowed. I will add to this, that destiny, in my conceit, works extraordinary in the course of this life, and that to outbrave or mock at fortune, she would serve herself of the high inclinations of Britomarus, not permitting him to apply his thoughts but to the daughters of Kings, and given him thoughts altogether disproportionable to his condition.  
The King of Mauritania spoke in this manner, and was about to enter into a discourse with Tyridates upon this matter which would have continued a long time, when by the path wherein they walked they saw coming to them a man on horseback, clad in magnificent armour, by the riches whereof one might partly judge of the quality of him that bore them. He followed his way very slowly, and when he was near enough to the Princes, to give them leave to take notice of his condition, they saw that he kept himself in his saddle not without staggering, and that from some wounds that he had received, the blood ran down his armour in divers places.  
The two Princes at this sight touched with a generous motion, which was very natural unto them, approach this Stranger, and they believed themselves yet more obliged to succour him, when through the viser of his helmet he had put up, they saw a visage, which, though it were pale through loss of blood, gave many marks of an eminent person. One and the same intention made them advance towards him, and Tyridates having taken hold of the bridle of his horse to hinder him from passing any further: Take it not ill, said he to him, that I stay you to represent unto you that you are not in a condition to go on your journey, and that you have need of repose, and the assistance we offer you, rather than the pain to which you expose yourself: The Unknown leaning upon the bow of his saddle, and looking upon Tyridates with eyes which his feebleness rendered more pleasing than they were naturally: I have no long journey to make, said he to him, to go to my vessel which I have left upon this coast; but I feel myself so feeble, that I shall not have strength to conduct myself thither, and though I know you not, neither am known of you, in the necessity I have I will not refuse the assistance you offer me: you will find it there without doubt, added Coriolanus, in the same manner as I received it in a condition like to yours; and this generous and obliging Prince, said he, speaking of Tyridates, is never so well satisfied as when he finds occasions of exercising his generosity.  
This word Prince fell from Coriolanus contrary to his intent, and he had no sooner spoken it but he blushed, looking upon Tyridates, and demanding pardon of him by that action for the imprudence he had committed: but it was much taken notice of by the Stranger, and looking upon them with more respect than he did before: The Gods have put me into good hands, said he to them, seeing it is from Princes that I receive these succours, but I will likewise tell you that you render them to a Prince, and to a Prince which holds a very eminent rank amongst men.  
After these words the two Princes caused him, being still on horse back, to follow the way which led to the house, and they marched by his side to sustain his feebleness, which rendered him not very sure in his saddle. Arriving at the gate, Tyridates called his servants, and by their assistance the Unknown dismounted from his horse, and leaning upon their arms was conducted to Tyridates his chamber. The obliging Prince quitted it to him out of respect, not having any great number of rooms in this little mansion, and took another for himself less fair, less commodious.  
It seemed that this house was become a retreat of wounded and afflicted persons and since a few days it had served illustrious persons enough to render it as famous as the Palaces of Kings. The hurts of this Stranger having been visited by those who served Britomarus were not found dangerous, and it was by the loss of blood only that he was enfeebled; they gave them the first dressing, and a little after they left the wounded man to that repose which was necessary for him, but before Tyridates parted out of the chamber he prayed him to lend him one of his Servants to send to the place where he had left his own, and to give them notice of the place and the condition wherein he was. He sent only for two of his men to come to him, Tyridates having told him in few words, that he was obliged for divers important reasons to keep his abode secret.  
This Stranger seemed to be possessed with the same violent passion, and he discovered it by so many marks, that it was a hard matter for those which were near him not to take great notice of it. Whilst they were dressing of him, he beholding the Surgeons with eyes wherein they beheld something of fierce and terrible, said to them, Your remedies have some efficacy in relation to the wounds of the body, but those of my soul are above your science: And after that Tyridates was retired, those which he had left in his chamber to serve him heard him sigh every moment, and use interrupted discourses whereby the transport of his Soul die easily discover itself: Must it needs be, cruel woman, must it needs be that thou shouldest escape my love and my vengeance, and that my love having opposed itself against my vengeance, I should lose the hope both of the one and of the other by the rigour of my destiny? Ah pitiless woman! pursued he a little after, and more pitiless a thousand times than he whose cruelty thou hast so much detested! how much are thy resentments greater than mine! and how much more rigorous dost thou punish intentions, than I would have punished real offences! This blot, wherewith thou reproachest me, will quickly pass from me upon thyself; and thou art more hard and insensible of pity, than that monster of inhumanity, which thou canst not look upon but with horror.  
But if he tormented himself in this sort, and testified by his discourse that the wounds of his body were not the most painful that he felt, the amorous Coriolanus passed not his time more agreeable than he, and though by an extraordinary constancy he dissembled, and subdued two parts of his displeasure, yet he suffered enough to soil any other courage but his own. He was then well enough cured of his hurts to get on horseback, to take arms again, and to run the course which his passion called him to; but besides that he was resolved for some days to expect the return of Strato his faithful freedman whom he had sent for news; he had learned by a general report, that Augustus, after he had escaped a violent tempest wherein he had lost part of his vessels, was landed at Pelusium, and was expected at Alexandria where he was to arrive within a few days. He had given notice by Emilius of the place where he was, and the Master of the house whither Strato was to come, and the stay of this man, whose voyage by all likelihoods needed not have been so long, redoubled his impatiences and disputes: that night he was extraordinarily tormented, and the evils of his body having entirely given place to those of his mind, he could hardly find some moments of interrupted sleep.  
On the morrow, a little after he was ready, desiring to find some comfort in the free entertainment of his thoughts, he left Tyridates busied in the officious care which he took for his guests, and went to seek solitude in the same place where Tyridates and he had walked the day before. It was a wood of high timber trees which extended itself over the plain more than two hundred furlongs in circuit, and it was bordered upon by divers houses of the inhabitants of Alexandria built upon the outsides of it. As it had sometimes served for the divertisement of Kings, and did yet serve the Praetors of Egypt in that nature, it had divers large and fair ways, in which a walk was no less agreeable than in the allies composed with more artifice, and there were a great number of paths whereby one might retire into the most solilitary and wild parts of the woods. It was also embellished with divers rivulets, which rising from divers springs not far off, after their pleasant winding amongst the trees went to embosomed themselves in the Sea.  
In this solitary place Tyridates had often entertained the Idea of Mariam, and in this place the said Coriolanus entertained himself a long time in the remembrance of his ungrateful Cleopatra. He quitted the greater ways for the private paths, and that part of the wood which was most shady and desert, did best agree with the condition of his Spirit. In this sad walk keeping his thoughts strongly fixed upon his fortune, he found in all sorts objects a renewing of his displeasures, and few things presented themselves to his view, which did not bring back to his memory some new subjects to consider of the change of his fortune. By the sight of those great trees under which he walked, he was put in mind of the fair allies upon the bank of Tiber, wherein he had had such sweet conversations with Cleopatra, and by this pressing Idea which this conformity did presently imprint in his mind, addressing himself to those insensible objects: Under a shade like yours said he, I have an hundred times tasted the sweetness which you cannot represent unto me without touching me sensibly; and under branches which like yours defended us from the beams of the Sun, Cleopatra often gave me assurances of that precious affection wherein I have established my life. In those places which for me were fortunate, she had protested an hundred times that nothing was more dear to her than Coriolanus, and in those places upon a bark like yours, she hath permitted me divers times to engrave in her presence the glorious marks of my happiness: But O Gods! replied he presently to himself, how much less resemblance have you to those fair places, the dear witnesses of my felicity, than to the fatal wood of Syracuse where I received the cruel sentence of my death? Ah! 'tis of that without doubt, you represent me with the figure, and you want but little of bringing back to my ears the sound of those pitiless words whereby I see myself so unjustly condemned.  
This sad accident of his, or rather this sad part of his life, whereby that which remained was exposed to such cruel pains, imprinted itself at that time so strongly in his imagination, that it rendered it as much present to his thoughts, as if time and the accidents which had befallen him since had not removed it from him for one single moment, and all that which in some sweet interval might have refreshed him with some agreeable remembrance, was dissipated by this last reflection, and left him almost in the same condition wherein he had appeared the last time before the eyes of his pitiless Princess: Ah my remembrances, cried he, after he had kept silence a while, ab remembrances of my fortune past! good reason is there that ye should quit your place to the memory of my present miseries, and ye would do well never to return into a mind wherein you can leave nothing but matters of eternal grief: that which ye have presented to it is but a dream and a vapour; if ye have sometimes made it see Cleopatra good, and Cleopatra affectionate, those remembrances which have succeeded you, show it now with more truth, Cleopatra without affection, Cleopatra incensed, or Cleopatra changed: all the sweetness and acknowledgement she had once for me is vanished with the changing of her mind; and if I were once Coriolanus more considerable to Cleopatra, than all she could hope for from the support and alliance of Livia, I am now no better than a monster of Africa, more odious and abominable to Cleopatra, than her most cruel enemies, or the vilest persons upon the earth. Return then no more, ye enemies of that shadow of false repose, wherewith my solitude hath flattered me, and permit your cruel companions to finish what they have begun, and can perform without your help.  
At this sad consideration he continued mute a while, searching with slow steps in the most obscure places that which did best agree with the darkness of his spirit. From the reflection he had lately made, and did eternally make upon his misfortune, he passed to a search of that which might be the cause of it, and after that he had examined his whole life even to his most secret thoughts, and finding nothing therein but innocence: No Cleopatra said he, the Gods are my witnesses that I have not failed in any thing towards you, or if there be any thing of criminal in my life, I am and have been always ignorant of it: the Gods alone are offended at the resentments I have had for you, and without doubt they justly punish me for having rendered you the adorations which are due to the Divinities alone: nothing more pure, nothing more disinteressed, and nothing more passionate ever established itself in a soul, than the thoughts I have had for you, and I may truly swear, that by all the misfortunes of my life they have not been altered one moment: But why, added be, passing from this thought to another, why do I seek for justifications, if all things plead for my innocence, and if that possibly I be not accused in the judgement of Cleopatra? All my crime without doubt is, that I have appeared less amiable than Tiberius to the inconstant Cleopatra, that I have been declared the enemy of Caesar, and of the Roman Empire, and that I have seemed ill confirmed in the Throne whereunto I remounted by Arms, as by Arms my Father had fallen thence. My Fortune alone hath committed all my offences, and the ungrateful Cleopatra remembers not how I have despised all for her, and how for her sake I refused those Crowns which a little after I recovered with the price of my blood, and have since lost through her cruelty only.  
He stayed himself some moments upon this thought, but a little after he repented himself of it: Ah Cleopatra! replied be upon himself, can I make this judgement of you without offending you, and since I have served you, ought not I to have taken notice so far of your generous inclinations, as never to suspect you of baseness and disloyalty? Ah! without doubt, you are not capable of it, and for this unfortunate, who complains of you, I have seen you refuse advantages great enough to move me not to have this unworthy belief of your courage. Whom ought I then to accuse, and to whom ought I to impute my disgrace? To whom, replied he, but to Tiberius, to the cruel, cunning Tiberius? and it is he alone, it is he alone which by some trick of his dissembling and perfidious spirit, hath ruined my Fortune, and thrown me headlong from the place whereunto by my love and services I was mounted above him: It is to Tiberius that I ought to address myself; and it is of Tiberius that I ought to demand for my justification that life which I have so unluckily left him: He shall give the remainder of it to the reparation of that repose which he hath so cruelly deprived me of, and to morrow, to morrow itself (seeing my strength permits, and I have no more wounds to retain me) I will go to seek out that tormentor of my days, and sacrifice him before the eyes of that ambitious Livia, and that Tyrant which contrary to justice, and his own word upholds him, and persecutes me. If I must perish in this design, as the appearances are very great that it must be so, in the sad condition wherein we now are, we shall perish without regret, and we shall lose no more than life, the loss whereof merits not at this time the least resentment of grief.  
In these discourses and thoughts, which took him up a part of the whole day, he engaged himself so into the wood by the private paths, that he lost all knowledge of those ways by which he should return, and being arrived to one of the extremities of the wood, he saw it was bordered upon by a little meadow, which separated it from another grove more verdant, and in appearance more shady than that he had crossed through. It was that which appeared to him more truly like the fatal wood of Syracuse, whereof he made mention, and wherein he had the last sight of Cleopatra: The thought he had of it drew sighs from his breast, and looking upon it with an emotion, which had something of extraordinary in it: If as thou hast the resemblance, said he, of that cruel place, where I saw myself condemned to so many deaths, so the Gods have given the same glory, and did permit thee to contain Cleopatra within the circuit. I should reverence thee as a secret place, and I should kiss with Idolatry the grass which her feet had pressed: In saying these words, whether it were out of some curiosity which in his sadness was not ordinary with him, or the little care he had of quitting his solitude to return to his company, but he crossed the little meadow and entered into the grove: there he found the trees greater, the grass fesher, and the shadow more delicious than in the wood which he had quitted; he saw there likewise divers allies artificially composed, and other beauties capable to retain him there longer than he was resolved to stay. He sought there, as he had done elsewhere, the most solitary places, and did nothing but cross the allies which lay in his passage; and being arrived at a pleasant stream which had its original in the wood, after he had walked a while by the side of it, a little weariness which his long walk had caused, made him take notice of the green bank that lay by the water side, with the design to repose himself there for some few moments.  
He let his languishing body fall upon the grass, and after he had washed his mouth with a little water to quench his thirst which began to trouble him, he leaned his head upon one of his hands, and beholding the clear water of the brook which ran along upon the gravel with an agreeable murmur: My fortune hath passed like you, said he to them, and the swiftness of your course can be compared to nothing better than to that of my happiness, which hath appeared and disappeared in my soul, without leaving any thing but the cruel traces of its passage: As he uttered these words with divers sighs, he lifted his eyes to Heaven with a very pitiful action, and a little after, laying his head at the foot of an old Oak, the sad thoughts, to which he abandoned himself, laid him insensibly a sleep, and whether it were through the pains of his walk, or his watching the night before, his eyes were closed with sleep, which for some moments charmed his disquiets.  
Whilst he slept, two Ladies fair, though with some inequality, above all that ever the Heavens framed beautiful walking along by the stream lighted unawares upon him. She which was least possessed with sad thoughts, and who, though she were very fair even to admiration, yet was inferior in some respect to the beauty of her companion, did first perceive the Prince asleep, and stopping herself at this adventure: Sister, said she to her companion, See, here lies a man in our passage, what shall we do: Let us take our walk elsewhere, replied that divine creature, seeing that after the perils we have scarcely yet escaped, we ought to fear the worst of all adventures: Our enemies, answered she who had spoken first, are not in a condition to do us any great displeasure, and our defenders are not far from us; this is that which makes me a little bold, and to tell you the truth of it, I received a few days since, so much satisfaction from an adventure like to this, that I shall hardly hinder myself from looking upon this man a little more narrowly: With these words she quitted her hand, and went some steps forward by chance on that side whither the Prince had turned his face: and she no sooner saw that sweet majestical countenance, composed of all the most accomplished features that nature had ever framed in a person of his Sex, but she remained exceedingly surprised; and out of a curiosity which the first view caused, approaching a little nearer, she contemplated more at ease, that which she had but imperfectly taken notice of at a farther distance. The Prince was pale and a little changed by the greatness of his displeasure, but not so much but that the fair Lady which viewed him, found in his person great subjects of admiration. When she was confirmed in her opinion by her attentive beholding of him, she desired to make her companion participate of the sight, returning to her with marks of astonishment which appeared in her face: Sister, said she to her, either I shall have no credit with you, or at my entreaty you shall see the man by all appearances the most worthy to be looked upon in the whole world: Appearances, replied this fair Lady with a sigh, are most commonly deceitful, and it is not upon appearances that we ought to ground our judgement.  
Speaking these words, she suffered herself to be led, though with some repugnance, within some few paces of the sleeping Prince. She cast her eyes upon his visage, which on that side might be entirely seen, but she had not viewed it many moments, but that there appeared in hers all the marks of a strong astonishment, and maugre the change he had suffered, knowing him easily by the image which she carried of him in her memory, at first she remained mute and unmoveable, not being able better to express her first apprehensions than by silence and immobility: but a little after, having confirmed herself in her knowledge, O Gods! cried she out, slepping back, O Gods! it is Coriolanus. She uttered these words with so high an accent, that the Prince was awakened by them, and listing up his head to look about him, the first object that presented itself to his view, was that of the two Ladies who had raised him from his sleep. Their brightness caused in him such a respect as made him rise from his place, and his profound sadness not being able to hinder him from casting his eyes upon such sparkling beauties, he had no sooner fixed them upon the two faces, but that upon the fairest of the two he perceived all the features of Cleopatra.  
Never was there astonishment like to that of the King of Mauritania in so unexpected an encounter, and if the Princess Cleopatra (for it was she indeed) was surprised at this adventure, Coriolanus, who probably had little cause to hope for it, was so touched therewith, that he could scarcely preserve any remainders of knowledge in so strong a surprise. He continued some time for action little different from the Oak against which he leaned, and like to persons under some charm, which ties up all the functions of the body and soul, whilst that Cleopatra between the arms of Artemisa, upon whom she had cast herself, showed all the signs of a confusion like that of the Prince; and feeling herself deprived of part of her strength, she face her down at the foot of a Tree, where by the assistance of the Princess, she endeavoured to recover herself.  
Coriolanus could no sooner open his mouth, but that with a great cry he invoked the name of his Princess, and following his first emotions, he moved from the place where he was, to run whither his love called him, and go cast himself at Cleopatra's feet: but at the same instant, his misfortune came again into his memory: he remembered that he was in disgrace, that he was odious to Cleopatra, and that he was banished from her sight, and by this remembrance, the impetuosity which seconded his desires was moderated; and from this first heat, he fell into a coldness which kept him more confused and timorous than before. Many different thoughts presented themselves to his mind, but he found them all either difficult or dangerous, and in the uncertainty wherein he was, either to accost her whom he adored, or to fly from the incensed Cleopatra, he quaked and trembled with desire and fear both at once. He armed himself at last with some resolution, and believing that the Gods might have sent him this adventure for his justification, and that he might put himself in danger to lose it, either by his negligence or timorousness, he adventured himself, and with a slow and uncertain pace he adventured to the place where Cleopatra sat. Yet he approached but within some paces of her, not believing himself in a condition of presuming upon any greater liberty; and failing upon his knees with an action altogether suppliant, and conformable to the thoughts of veneration which he had for his Divine Princess, without daring to lift up his eyes upon that awful countenance, he began to speak with a trembling and assured voice. It is not my design, Madam, said he to her, it is fortune that presents me to you, and I was too religious in the obedience which I owe to you, to seek occasions of appearing before the eyes of my incensed Princess: I had no longer languished out this unfortunate life of mine, since I know that it is odious to you, if I had not believed that I ought to employ the miserable remainders of it, which your change hath left me in my justification; and if by the inviolable fidelity which hath always engaged me to you, I had not been obliged to use all my endeavours to die in the testification of my innocence. I know not, Madam, whether I find you still in the same estate wherein you were when this miserable received his condemnation; and possible it is, that by the reflection you have made upon all the actions of my life, or by the goodness of the Gods which never abandon an oppressed innocence, you may have satisfied yourself that I have not merited those miseries to which you have condemned me. I speak to you, Madam, as a criminal in your thoughts, and I had much rather submit myself to accusations, against which my conscience fortifies me, and against which the truth itself will defend me, than to imagine that the change of my fortune proceeded only from the changing of your mind. I have received too great proofs of its constancy, to believe that it hath been capable of so cruel a revolution, and I should conceive a thought, which without doubt, might offend you, if I should judge that the fortune of Tiberius hath destroyed mine, and attribute that to inconstancy, which without doubt, you have done for the reasons to me unknown.  
The Prince had said more to this purpose, if the Princess which till then had harkened unto him without looking upon him, had not lifted up her eyes and interrupted him in part of his discourse: You have had reason, said she to him, to make this judgement of me, and though you have been capable of a black infidelity, yet you have been sufficiently assured that Cleopatra had an heart too well settled for being suspected of any such thing, I ought not to have opened my mouth so much as to have spoken to you, and whether it be chance or design which presents you again unto me, contrary to my expectation and desire, I should have fled from your first view, as from the sight of my most cruel enemy; but that I may render you yet more black, and more criminal before the Gods, and before men, I will, as unworthy as you are, protest unto you once for all, that if by your shameful perfidiousness you had not merited my hatred, and my disdain, in stead of that affection which I have blindly given you, I should have despised not only Tiberius, and all men besides, but even the Empire of the Universe for you alone. If it be so, replied Coriolanus, and that by the infidelity wherewith you reproach me, I have rendered myself unworthy of that fortune, there is no death cruel enough for the punishment of my fault: neither will I fly from it, and you shall see me, Madam, to repair my crime in part, fall upon the point of my Sword without repugnance, and without any other resentment of my death, than that I have merited it by my perfideousness: But first Madam, I beseech you by the memory of those former goodnesses, which by your accusation, I have so unworthily abused, do me the favour to inform me what the crime is, which by your accusation I have so unworthily abused, do me the favour to inform me what the crime is which renders me so black, and so odious. Heaven is my witness, that it is so far unknown to me, that I could never so much as imagine the least subject of this reproach, and it is but to learn this truth, that I linger out my unfortunate days, and that I wander, since I have the liberty, into places where I may receive some knowledge of it. I will not represent unto you, to move you either with interest, or compassion, the condition wherein I am for the love of you: It is a small thing that for your sake I have armed the powers which govern the earth against myself: It is a small thing, that having recovered for you only a very puissant Kingdom, I have lost it again for want of ability to go and defend it in the condition wherein you had put me; and it is a small thing to see me exiled, stripped of all, a wanderer and vagabond in Countries which are all my Enemies, without support, without retreat, and without Sanctuary against such great adversaries: These evils are scarcely considerable for Cleopatra, and they are too light to set before her eyes, with any hope that she will make any reflection upon them▪ but besides the loss of all that, I might have acquired either by my Sword, or by my Fortune, besides the los● of my repose, together with the loss of Cleopatra, which expunges all the rest out of my soul, to conclude my pitiful destiny with the loss of my life, without having any knowledge, without having any suspicion of the cause of my fortunes, this is it, which possibly is worthy of your pity, and it is for this only that I will implore it, with a final protestation that I will draw no other advantage thence but this, to see myself condemned with reason, by her whom at the last end of my life I neither can nor will accuse of any injustice.  
The Princess Cleopatra, as obdurate and prepossessed as she was with a cruel opinion, could not hear this discourse of Coriolanus, without manifesting some marks of tenderness, and the roots of the only affection she had had in her whole life, were still too well fixed in her mind to leave her without pity, and without resentment at the sight of this despairing Prince, and the remembrance of those things which he represented to her. Nevertheless, she strove against passions, and hardly retaining some tears which were ready to overflow her eyelids: Wherefore dost thou return, said she to him, wherefore dost thou return, unfaithful Prince, to renew my sorrows, and oppose thyself to the repose, which reason possibly had reestablished in my mind? What interest hast thou (after thou hast so unworthily abandoned me) to act the passionate lover before me afresh, and needlessly to require new marks of that weakness which hath precipitated me into those disquiets wherein I have passed but too much of my life for thy sake, and to plead both innocence and ignorance of a crime, which thou hast endeavoured to publish to all the world: As long thou wert faithful to me, my acknowledgement and my affection could never be moved by any consideration whatsoever, and I as well as thou have opposed and incensed for thy sake alone, those sovereign powers, to whom the Gods having given an absolute command over me. I had done more yet, if by thy black infidelity thou hadst not too far dispensed with me; and if fortune had replaced upon my head the Crowns which sometimes were in the disposing of Anthony, thou shouldest have seen me use them more generously, than thou hast done that which the Gods had restored to thee whilst thou wert innocent, and which they have made thee lose, since that, by thy disloyalty, thou hast rendered thyself unworthy of their protection. It is by their Justice alone that thou art stripped of all, and exiled, wand'ring without retreat or place of safety; but though these miseries are too light for thy crime, they witness for me that I have not contributed to them, and that I have had no more part in them, than I had in those Kingdoms, which thou hadst destined, and didst offer with thyself to more happy persons. Do not reproach me then with evils which I have never been the cause of, and which I never so much as wished thee: I am contented to accuse thee of ingratitude and unworthiness, and to manifest marks of sorrow for thy shameful change, which possibly thou hadst not deserved, without wishing any greater punishment to thy treason, than my forgetfulness and disdain.  
But at last, the transported Prince cried out, shall I not know this treason, and shall I see myself condemned, and condemned by a Judge whom I cannot call unjust, without having any knowledge of my crime? What, replied the Princess, wilt thou still, for a conclusion of thy perfidiousness, deride her whom thou hast so unworthily abandoned, and art thou not ashamed, by a base and unprofitable dissimulation, to make as if thou wert ignorant of a crime, which thou hast manifested thyself to the whole world, and which thou hast endeavoured to conceal neither from my knowledge, nor from the whole Roman Empire? Answered the Prince, if it be known to me, as without doubt it ought to be, if I have so publicly committed it, aggravate by your last reproaches, which you will heap upon me for it, the remorse I ought to feel; and if not, to inform me of it, seeing I am not ignorant, yet to convince me before this fair Lady which hears us, let us understand from your mouth the treason which I have committed against you.  
Artemisa who heard this dialogue with wonderful attention and suspense, and did favour Coriolanus, as much out of the esteem and amity which his presence might cause in all those which saw him, as for the advantageous relation she had heard made of him a thousand times by her Alexander; at this last discourse turning herself towards Cleopatra: Sister, said she to her, this Prince demands so small a matter, that, if he were yet more criminal than you represent him, you could not refuse it him; and whether he makes himself ignorant, or is so really, you will do him but little favour, when you shall set before his eyes the offence he hath committed against you: Ah Sister, replied Cleopatra, though this man little deserves any satisfaction how small soever, and though you oblige me to a thing, to me painful and unprofitable, when you desire that I should inform him of that which he himself hath discovered to the whole world: yet I will do it to please you, and I would willingly make him blush, if it be possible, at the last reproaches I owe to his unworthiness.  
The Princess was about to proceed, and Coriolanus harkening to her with all the confidence his innocence could give him, expected from the end of this conversation either his death or his justification, when she was interrupted by a great noise, which obliged the Princesses to arise affrighted from the place where they were. Their fear was not without reason, and they were hardly got up upon their feet, but they saw themselves set upon by ten or twelve horsemen which were in search of them, who having left a party of their Companions engaged in Combat against them from whom the Princesses might hope for succour, had run over part of the wood to find them out. They had no sooner discovered them, but that he which marched in the head of them cried out with joy to his Companions, See here they are: and with these words having caused them to be environed on all sides, he had no sooner cast his eyes a little nearer upon them, but that he knew, not only Cleopatra, whom he fought for, but the Princess Artemisa likewise: He appeared astonished at this sight, and recovering his speech, after some moments of silence; Ah my friends, said he, how happy are we to day! Behold the Princess Artemisa; she must accompany her whom we seek, and our fortune will be accomplished. He had scarcely uttered these words, but four or five of his Companions alighted, and whilst those which remained on horseback stopped the passage to hinder the flight of the two Princesses, they advanced towards them to take them.  
Coriolanus, who since the moment that he had been interrupted, had beheld their action without being astonished: no sooner saw these enemy's approach Cleopatra and Artemisa, but he put himself before them and drawing his sword, which at that time was all his arms, he Presented himself in their defence: The number of his enemies and the advantage they had over him of horse and arms was not capable to daunt him; but only casting a look upon Cleopatra: Madam, said he to her, this accident hinders my justification, but the death I go to suffer for you without regret, will possibly justify me in part. He had not ended these few words, but that one of these Barbarians had already seized upon the daughter of Anthony: but his boldness was fatal to him, and the valiant King of the Moors giving him a blow with his sword upon the arm which he had advanced, separated it from his body, and put him into a condition to do no more outrage to that he loved. After this blow, with an admirable readiness, he fell upon another who held the Princess of Armenia, and finding free passage for the point of his sword whither he directed it, he thrust into the hilts. They which continued on horseback having seen the sudden fall of their companions, advanced to revenge them, and two amongst them spurring on their horses upon the valiantest Defender of the two Princesses, had overthrown him with their shock, if he had not been sheltered by a tree, against which he threw himself; from the foot whereof singling out one of the Barbarians in his passage, he reached him with the point of his sword, where his Curiasse was defective, with so much success, that he pierced him to the heart, and made the Barbarian fall down dead to the ground.  
From this place Coriolanus by his admirable valour might have defended his life; but he heard the cries of the Princesses, and seeing them between the arms of divers men, he neglected his own safety to run to their defence: Mars, the God of War himself could not have performed actions like to those of this great Prince, and his despair redoubling his forces, made him pass amongst the Barbarians for a Daemon of valour, or a whirlwind which mingling itself amongst them with unconceivable fury, presented death unto them on all sides where they would assail him. O how might then incensed Cleopatra have found in these miraculous actions, if she had the liberty of taking notice of them, great occasions to be appeased, and how well might she have judged, that with so noble a courage infidelity could hardly find a place! She was already in the power of one of her enemies, when she beheld his throat pierced by the sword of Coriolanus, and was all covered with the blood that he vomited out upon her, as he fell at her feet. Presently after this action the Prince was violently justled by divers horses at the same time, and being near Cleopatra, he was overthrown with her upon the grass, though as he fell he raised up his arm to hold her: The Princess fell upon Coriolanus, and her shall fallen out well for the Prince's safety, who without doubt had perished either by the swords of his enemies, or under the feet of the horses, if they had not been afraid of killing the Princess with him, and if their Commander had not cried out uncessantly to them to take an especial care of her. Cleopatra got up again very readily, and Coriolanus making use of his left hand in that action, and holding his Sword in his right hand for his defence, had still one knee upon the ground, when as he feeling himself pressed upon by one of his enemies, who went to run his horse over him behind, he turned himself half towards him, and with the edge of his sword gave the horse a back blow over the nose, the horse being hurt stood up on end, and his Master pulling the bridle too hard, pulled him backward upon himself with so rough a fall, that for a long time he was not in a condition to hurt Coriolanus. In the very same posture he thrust his sword into the belly of another horse; but at the same time he could not hinder himself from being thrown to the ground the second time; and one of his enemies on foot whom he took hold of as he fell, and drew along with him to the ground, falling upon him, endeavoured to draw his sword from under him, to thrust it into his throat, whilst another turning about on horseback sought some way to kill him, without hurting his companion. This was that which saved Coriolanus his life the second time, and holding him closely embraced who was upon him, he took from him all means of doing hurt, and covered himself with his body against the sword of his companion. He was extremely weary with the great pains he had taken, and under whom he lay was a man of extraordinary size and strength; but that did not hinder, but that, after a long dispute, Coriolanus broke his Enemy's sword, just as he had almost disengaged it from under him, and thrust him twice into the body with the Truncheon of it. The Barbarian wrung him with the rage of a dying Enemy, and Coriolanus thrusting him with a strong arm, easily turned him over on the other side.  
After this action he had need of all his diligence to get up, and which was on horseback, putting towards him, when he saw him no longer covered by his companion, was likely without doubt to trample him under foot, if the Prince as he arose, had not presented the point of his sword to the Horses eyes, who being afraid of it, durst come no nearer, though his Master spurred him on. When the Prince was quite got up upon his feet, the Barbarian which saw him victor over so many Enemies, and took him for something more than an humane Creature, had not the outrage to expect him, but put on his horse at full speed, following the tracks of his companions, which retired with the Princess they had taken away.  
Coriolanus saw himself then without Enemies, but he had no longer the sight of Cleopatra, or at least he had but a glimpse of her afar off between the arms of her ravishers, and he perceived with unspeakable regret that so many actions of valour that he had lately performed, had only served for the safety of his own life, and not for the defence of Cleopatra. He sighed at it with grief and rage, but he did not long amuse himself in complaints, and seeing himself by a prodigious felicity escaped from so great a combat without wounds, he resolved to pursue after her, without expecting any longer succours; but because being on foot, and without arms, he was not in a condition to make any great haste, nor give her any great assistance, he was minded to put on the arms of one of those he had slain, and to accommodate himself with one of the horses which after their Master's death were grazing in the Wood at liberty. He went to one of the Barbarians, who was of a size little different from his own, and despoiling him of his arms, he began to arm himself with them with all possible speed.  
He had just done fastening the leathers of his Head-piece, and cast his eyes about him to choose, amongst three or four horses which he saw without Masters, that which was most proper for his design, when he saw coming towards him at full speed six horsemen armed Cap●a pe, that way which the Princesses came. Their approach did not one jot dismay him, and in the grief he then felt, all danger whatsoever was uncapable of terrifying him. These men after they had beheld the dead bodies, and the marks of the combat which he had performed, they drew near the Prince, and one of them coming forwarder than the rest, asked him news of the the two Princes: If you are of the company of their ravishers, said the Princess unto him, finish that which your companions have begun against me: and if you seek them to succour them, behold the way, said he to them, pointing towards the Sea-coast, which those cruel wretches carry them, and whither I am about to follow you. In another condition and at other time these men would not have quitted the Prince without longer discourse, and without informing themselves more fully of divers things capable to cause their astonishment and their curiosity; but the impatience which spurred them on gave them no leisure; and he had no sooner showed them the way that the Princes were carried, but that without hearing more, they put on their horses upon the tract which yet appeared fresh, and before that Coriolanus could catch one of the horses that were feeding, they were quite got out of sight.  
Being mounted at last upon a strong bodied horse, which he believed to be in a condition to do him service, away he went with all the speed he could possibly make, and followed amongst the trees the tract of the Barbarians, which carried away with them hishopes, and all his life. A throng of redoubled sighs proceeded from his breast, and imputing his bad fortune sometimes to himself he found himself in a more violent agitation, and a thousand times more cruel combat, than that he had lately finished. He made reflection, as much as the swiftness of his course would give him leave to do, upon the strange adventure of this day; and not know whereat he should be more astonished either the meeting or the loss of Cleopatra, he found a double occasion to desire death, both in the perseverance of Cleopatra to hate him, and in the carrying away of Cleopatra, to which he believed himself to have contributed, by the feebleness, which as he thought, he had showed in her defence. The great and prodigious efforts which he had made use of in this occasion, seemed unto him unworthy of his ordinary valour, and looking upon himself with disdain, Ah my hand! said he, ah my strength! in what necessity have ye basely abandoned me, and in what occasion could ye have been more necessary than in the defence of Cleopatra! ye have seconded my courage with success; when I have fought for the interests of Caesar, and when I have employed you for the recovery of a Crown; and you disgrace yourselves and quit me when the conservation of my Princess is conserned! Ah ye Gods, which vouchsafe no pity to the miseries of my life, by what crimes could I possibly draw your eternal wrath upon my head? was it not enough for the unfortunate Coriolanus to be exposed to the hatred and disdain of Cleopatra, but that he must have also the displeasure to see Cleopatra between the arms of those inhuman ravishers, which possibly may rob him of her sight for ever.  
He continued some moments in judging, wherein he was most unhappy, whether in his disgrace, or in the carrying away of Cleopatra: but after he had reasoned with himself a while: Ah! said he, let us make no judgement upon it, we are unfortunate in the same degree, both in the one and the other, and the misfortune of being hated and disdained by Cleopatra, could not have been equalised but by the loss of Cleopatra, Alas! added he, in pursuance of a thought which succeeded the former, but for this misfortune, I had possibly been upon the point to give a cessation to the former: when these Barbarians interrupted us, I was about to have learned of my Princess the crime whereof I am accused, and no doubt but in the evidences of my innocencé which she would have discovered, I should have found my justication. But Fortune, that Enemy of mine, which without pity hath declared herself for my ruin, could not dissemble in this accident, and it was not from her that I ought to expect this favour, seeing it is by her means that I lose all, and by her it is that I see myself exposed to eternal miseries. She did not present Cleopatra to me, contrary to my expectation, but to redouble my misfortunes by this last assurance of her indignation, and to ruin me utterly with the regret of seeing that which I adore, totally changed as she is, and as to me insensible, fallen into the power of those Monsters, which have ravished her from my eyes: Let us follow nevertheless, added he, let us follow that we love even to the utmost end of our life, and let us render the succours we owe without any consideration: Cleopatra is possibly no more lost to us in the arms of her ravishers, than she will be in the embraces of Tiberius, or of some other rival to whom she may have destined herself; and we shall reap no advantage to ourselves, by the succour which we give her, if it please the Gods that we be so happy as to give her any; and yet we ought to employ ourselves in her service even to the last drop of our blood: and though we should take her out of the hands of our ravishers only to put her into the hands of Tiberius, we must close our eyes to our own interest, blindly to involve ourselves in hers, and leaving her all the remorse which her change may cause in her, die in the glory and satisfaction of having done our duty even to the end of our life.  
In these discourses, and these thoughts which accompanied his course, the afflicted Prince traversed all the Wood, and came to the Seashore, where, by a misfortune like to that of Caesario some days before, he lost all tract of the horses, which till then he had exactly followed. He continued in this place unresolved, looking about him on every side, and considering upon the choice of the way he was to take; and he was in this condition, when a Cavalier clad in rich and stately armour, and gallantly mounted, passing some paces from him, made a stop to take a view of him; Coriolanus to refresh himself from the heat which he had endured, had his beaver up, and his face was almost entirely discovered; this was that which stayed the Unknown, who presently knew the lineaments which he had engraved in his memory, and whilst that Coriolanus marched by the Sea-cost, but much more slowly than he had done till then, out of the uncertainty he was in which way to take, the Unknown marched seven or eight paces from him by his side, having his eyes still fixed upon his visage, and marking in his action a great deal of uncertainty and irresolution.  
The King of Mauritania being attentive only to the pursuit of Cleopatra, scarcely took any heed of him, and when he did perceive him, he took him for one of those, which he had seen a little before go in pursuit of the ravishers. In this thought and others wherein he was too profoundly engaged, he followed the way he had taken, without speaking to him, and they passed some furlongs together in this condition; till the Prince lifting up his head, and seeing this man still by his side with all the appearances of a person that had to me design against him, he began likewise to view him with some attention, and was about to ask him what he was, and to what intent he followed him, when the Unknown preventing him, and breaking silence first, which till then he had kept: Ah! I have considered too much, cried he, I must die; or be the death of this perfidious, whom I have fought so long: Speaking these words he drew his sword, and opposing the Prince in his passage: Defend thyself, Son of Juba said he to him, I must give death or receive it, The Mauritanian Prince who was not naturally over-patient, and who had at that time his humour exasperated by his discontent, easily disposed himself to the Combat; and he would with all his heart have made the efforts of his choler to have fallen upon the first object that presented itself, if he had not found it an obstacle to the speediness of his pursuit. This hindrance did somewhat abate the first motions of his anger, and looking upon the man which stood before him with his sword advanced: And what art thou, said he to him, as he was putting down the Beaver of his Helmet, and laying his hand upon his Sword, Thou which demandest the Combat of me at a time wherein my stay is worse than the death thou threatnest me withal? I am, replied the Unknown, the greatest of thy Enemies; that's enough to oblige thee to fight: Yes, 'tis enough, answered the furious Coriolanus, and it may be too much for thy life.  
Speaking these words he drew that famous Sword, upon which Victory had attended in so many Combats, and clapping spurs to his horse, which he found very good and proper for his purpose, he threw himself upon his Enemy, who let fly at him with the like impetuosity. Their Shields sustained the first blows, but if they fell without any other effect, they made the two Warriors know at least mutually the force of the arms that gave them: they gave one another divers others at the same time with the same success, and if the Unknown found nothing new in the valour of Coriolanus whereof he had seen sufficient proof, Coriolanus found that in the courage of his Enemy, which he had never met with but in the Combat which he had some few days before with the Valiant Britomarus. Their choler on either side quickly appeared in their mutual precipitation, and if the Unknown was animated by a violent passion, the cruel obstacle which he brought to the succours of Cleopatra, quickly made the resentment of Coriolanus mount to a degree which rendered it little different from his. They employed on both sides more force than art in their Combat, and yet neither of them forgot any thing which might conduce to the Victory: Their blind fury without doubt was advantageous for them, and if it had permitted them to search the defect of their Arms, they would have drawn blood each of other in divers places, whereas bestowing their blows without choice and judgement, they fought a long time without any hurt.  
Coriolanus, whom this delay put into despair, and who well perceived that the success of this Combat would not be so speedy as he did imagine, preferring the succour of Cleopatra before all other considerations, and the repugnance he had in himself against the action which he was about to do, retired some few steps, and making a sign to his Enemy that had something to say to him: Though thou shouldest be Tiberius, said he, (for thou canst be no other than Tiberius, if thou art the greatest of my Enemies, and it is only to be thy death that I have preserved my life) permit that our Combat may cease for one hour, and join thyself with me in a business, wherein possibly thou art no less interessed, than myself: Afterwards we will finish our quarrel, and thou art not ignorant, that no peace can be established between us but by the death of one of us. Tiberius, replied the Unknown, is not more thine Enemy, than myself, and all the reason he had to attempt thy life, is now centred in myself, and since it is for this design only that I have sought thee through the whole World, our Combat cannot end but with the life of one of us. Ah! it shall be with thine then, answered the enraged Prince, and it is by this uncivil refusal, that, maugre thy base dissimulation, I know thee to be Tiberius. These words were scarcely ended, but they fell one upon the other afresh like two Lions, and the Mauritanian Prince being out of patience with the length of the Combat, spurring up his horse to the side of his Enemy, and having avoided the point of his sword which was presented at him, he seized upon his body with such force, that by all his strength he could not disengage himself from between his arms: and though Coriolanus his horse had received the blow which was aimed at his Master, which wounded him mortally in the neck, the bounds he made through the pain of his wound, could not hinder but that the King of the Moors pulled his Enemy out of the Saddle, just as he was constrained to quit his own, for fear his horse should fall upon him, whom he perceived to fall between his legs. They fell both to the ground, and their fall was so boisterous, that it amazed them both, and made them let go their hold, they got up again with great speed, and prepared to finish their combat on foot; but the Unknown found himself troubled with his Casque, the leathers whereof were broken by the fall, and by a weighty blow he received being turned upon his head, did hinder his sight more than it served for his defence, therefore stepping back a little, he pulled it off himself, and left his face uncovered and his head disarmed.  
Coriolanus, maugre the heat that animated him, had no sooner cast his eyes upon the visage of his Enemy, but in stead of Tiberius, or some other most odious person that he expected to see, he beheld with an unparalleled amazement his dear and well beloved Marcellus. In the whole course of his life he had never lighted upon any adventure which surprised him like this, and when he saw that his Enemy which had appeared so eager, and full of animosity to destroy him, was next to Cleopatra the dearest person to him in the World, and that friend upon whom he had founded his last hopes, his grief sailed but a little of executing that, which the arms of so many Enemies could not do in that day's action. The first testimony he gave of it was by a loud exclamation; Ah Marcellus, cried he, ah my Brother is it you! Yea, perfidious Man, replied Marcellus, it is Marcellus, but no longer thy Brother, or thy friend; and that Tiberius, for whom thou hast taken him was never more thy Enemy, than Marcellus is: O Gods! cried the Prince with a very sad and pitiful gesture, and do you likewise Marcellus, do you abandon me, and after the loss of my Kingdom, and the loss of Cleopatra, doth this Marcellus a thousand times more dear to my soul than my own self, this Marcellus from whom I expected my last refuges, and my only comfort, not only abandon me with my fortune, but assault my honour and my life more cruelly than ever Tiberius did? Ah pierce then, continued he, casting his sword upon the ground, pierce, cruel and inconstant Friend, this heart which I present thee, this heart which thou accusest of treason and unworthiness, and this heart which yet was never capable of a change like yours. May it please the Gods that I may never defend against thee the life which is so precious to thee, and if it create any impediment to thy intentions, let us sacrifice it a thousand times rather than suffer that it should any more cross the designs of my ungrateful Friend. I had not preserved it, after the loss of all that the Gods and fortune had given me, but that I believed that the amity of Marcellus was still left me. But since that besides the loss of all other things that I could call good, I am deprived of the amity of Marcellus, who contrary to his promise espouses the quarrel of his Uncle my enemy and my persecutor, and that possibly by my death seeks to regain Cleopatra, whom he had so generously bestowed upon me, let us offer up our life either to his repose or to his fortune, and let us dispute nothing with him, to whose benefits all was sometimes due, and to whom, in memory of them, we can refuse nothing: Though I am ignorant of all other crimes, I cannot be ignorant of this, wherewith my conscience reproaches me, that I have lifted up my sword against thee, and my friendship which is not altered by the attempts which thou hast made against my life, though thou knewest me, will never pardon me those which I made against thine, though I knew thee not.  
Whilst Coriolanus spoke in this manner, Marcellus who had stayed himself after he had seen him cast away his sword, looking upon him with an hundred different motions, which were remarkable in the changing of his countenance; but his soul being prepossessed with an opinion, which made all the discourses of Coriolanus to pass for false and full of artifice, they did not work that effect upon his spirit, which according to the excellency of his nature they should have done, and after he had harkened to him with impatience enough, taking the word with an action altogether passionate: Ah unworthy and unfaithful Friend, said he to him, to what end doth this dissimulation serve thee? hast thou found any thing in this encounter which thou didst not expect, and canst thou hope for any remainders of friendship in the soul of Marcellus, after thy ungrateful and unworthy usage of him? and hath he made it appear in the affairs thou hast had with Caesar, that his interests were more dear to him than thine, and could he have any thought of depriving thee of Cleopatra, after he had done all that he had done to make her thine? No, Coriolanus, never seek farther for an artificial disguisement of a perfidiousness which thou wouldst not have concealed from any man: Retake rather that sword which thy remorse, and not the remainders of thy friendship, hath made thee quit, and if it be not to defend a life which was more dear to me than my own, let it be to make him perish, who, as long as he lives, will justly reproach thee with thy infidelity. But tell me, said Coriolanus interrupting him, Tell me in the name of the Gods, what infidelity is that which I have committed against Cleopatra, and against myself? What is the crime for which I wander up and down as a vagabond, and exposed to all manner of misfortunes, without having received any knowledge of it? and what have I done, that could make those persons for whose sake only I live, to become my most cruel and implacable enemies? I desire, O Marcellus, either this favour of thee or my death, and in stead of that resistance which thou desirest of me, that thou mayest give me the more honourable death, I will cast away not only my sword, but these arms too, which oppose the passage of thine.  
The resentment, and the natural goodness of Marcellus, made at that time a combat in his Spirit, which Coriolanus might take notice of by some tears which trickled from his eyes, and all the indignation that transported him could not hinder him from seeing in the visage of his Enemy, the resemblance of that person whom he had most dearly loved in the World. Yet he opposed himself to these motions as much as possibly he could, and beholding him with eyes, wherein, through his choler and despite, something of tenderness and compassion might be discerned: Go unworthy Man, said he to him, the Gods shall punish thee for me, and seeing it is not for the hand of Marcellus, who unfortunately was thy friend, that the vengeance of thy crimes is reserzed, Heaven, which begins to punish thee with evils which I never wish thee, will bestow upon thy infidelity better than I can do, the pains that are due unto it: With these words, without looking any more upon Coriolanus, he ran to his horse which was not far distant from him, and getting upon him with admirable readiness, he put him to full speed, and in a few moments disappeared from the eyes of Coriolanus.  
The Prince remained so confounded and so afflicted both together at this last accident, that he could find no means to serve himself of that great courage, from which in the misfortunes of his life he had received so great assistances, and repassing his memory in a moment over the deplorable condition of his life, and those things which had happened unto him that day, from the astonishment which these strange events produced in him, he fell into a passion of grief that all his constancy was not able to support. Besides that Cleopatra was incensed or changed, and ravished from his eyes by her barbarous Enemies, he found Marcellus, in whose amity alone he had founded his last hope, more changed than Cleopatra, and as much his Enemy as Tiberius could be. He could not make this reflection without abandoning himself to grief, and breaking silence wherein his astonishment had kept him a long time: Ah cried he! This is it to dispute too much against the destinies, there is a necessity of dying, since our life is odious to all the persons we love, and the earth which might furnish me with places of refuge from the powers of Augustus, hath none for me against the hatred of Cleopatra, and the enmity of Marcellus. I must content this pitiless Fortune, which after it had raised me enemies which I might have resisted by force and valour, arms Enemies to my utter ruin, against which my courage and my valour are not capable to defend me; I owe my blood to Cleopatra to repair that offence, whatsoever it may be, which I have committed against her: I owe my blood to Marcellus, to wash away that infidelity wherewith he reproaches me, and I shall give it unto them both without regret, if by my death I may justify my life, and testify unto them by my end, that I never had a soul capable of ingratitude and treason.  
He took up then, full of a deadly resolution, the sword which he had cast upon the ground, and in the transport which then possessed him, he had possibly executed some horrid thing against himself, if he had not called to mind at the same time that Cleopatra was the prey of Barbarians, amongst whom her Honour and her Life were in hazard, and that he owed her his assistance even to the extremity of his life. This remembrance stayed the effects of his despair, and fixing all his thoughts in an instant upon the assistances which he he owed to this Princess: Stay Marcellus, said he, I will acquit myself towards thee, when I shall have acquitted myself towards Cleopatra: I have no less a quarrel with her than with thee, and besides the reparations which I owe to the infidelity wherewith she reproaches me as well as thou, I am obliged, in the condition wherein I have seen her, to succour her to the last of that blood which thou demandest of me. At these words, sheathing his Sword, he dreamt of nothing more than to pursue after the ravishers of Cleopatra; but by a redoubled misfortune he found himself on foot, and casting his eyes upon his horse, he saw him a few paces off, approaching near his end upon the ground where he had poured out all his blood. This surcharge of displeasure awakened in him new thoughts of despair, and hardly could he vanquish them by the last resolution he had taken: Ah cruel Heaven! cried he, being transported beyond his ordinary moderation, by the violence of his grief, O destinies without pity! are ye not satisfied? have ye any affliction left to throw upon this infortunate, whom ye take for the mark of all your cruelties? Ah too cruel Marcellus, how sharply dost thou revenge the offence wherewith thou reproachest me, in depriving me of the means to succour Cleopatra, or to go and seek my death in the occasions of serving her! Then he turned his eyes on every side, uncertain what to do; he was alone on foot, covered with heavy arms, ignorant of the way that his Enemies had taken; and for his last hindrance, the day was shutting in, and darkness began to spread itself over the Earth. The Prince, after he had ruminated a while, believed at last, that the shortest and surest way for his design was to return to Tyridates his house, which according to his judgement could not be far from that place, where he might find horses and other arms, and men to accompany him in his pursuit. After he had taken this resolution, he returned himself that way which he believed was the shortest to bring him to the house.  
Since his departure thence, Tyridates and his two guests had passed the day there in less violent employments than his, although they were tormented with the same passions, and the courteous Prince of the Parthians had spent the better part of it in the entertainment of the two wounded strangers. He had endeavoured upon this design to vanquish the redoublings of his sadness which had seized upon him by reason of some evil passages, and fearful dreams, which had persecuted him all the night, and striving to dissemble in part the effects which they had produced in his mind, he had rendered his first visit to the valiant Britomarus, whom for his admirable qualities he respected, and caused to be served with extraordinary considerations: he had without doubt engaged him in the pursuance of his history according to his promise, if the King of Mauritania, whom he would not deprive of his part of this satisfaction had been present, and if he had not feared to create him the trouble of making the relation twice; yet he put him in mind of it, that he might be prepared at the Prince's return, and after he had entertained some time with him, he passed into the Chamber, who came at last: he found him in a good condition as to his health, and his hurts were neither great nor dangerous; but his soul suffered cruel inquietudes which were remarkable in his discourse and in his countenance. His two men, which he had sent to seek for, were come, of whom he retained one only to serve him, and had sent away the other with Commissions which he had given him: Upon the hopes he made him have of the success of his enjoyment, he had reposed himself a little, and he was newly awaked from a short sleep when Tyridates entered his Chamber: That which they had learned each of other concerning their Birth, obliged them to treat each other with respect, and Tiridates being approached near the bed of the Unknown, enquired of him concerning his health with all manner of civility and sweetness. The Unknown, as fierce as he was of his own nature, could not look upon the continuation of Tyridates his bounties, whom he know to be a Prince, without testifying to him some acknowledgement of them: and when he was sat down by his bedside, I am in a pretty good condition, said he, in respect of those evils whereof by your officious cares I may receive remedy: but as for them which depend upon the Gods or Fortune, I find myself far enough from the cure of them: I would, replied Tyridates, it lay in my power to yield as much ease to the disquiets of your mind, as you have received in relation to your bodily hurts, and I would spare nothing that should be in my power, for the service of a person, whom I judge by many marks to be of ● very sublime condition. My Birth and Rank are great enough, replied the Unknown, and if I knew to whom I spoke, and from whom I have received so great assistance, after you have laid the obligation upon me, I shall make no difficulty to give you a perfect knowledge of it. I know you are are a Prince, continued he, taking Tyridates by the hand, but I am ignorant both of your name and the blood whereof you are descended; and you will add not a little to the good offices you render me, if by informing me plainly to whom I am reduable, you will give me the means to open my heart unto you, and to acquaint you not only with my name and birth, but also with the adventures, which put me into a condition of having need of your succour.  
Tyridates had no design to discover himself to this Unknown, and the cruel intentions of his Brother, were reasons great enough for him to conceal himself, but, in the condition whereunto he was reduced, his life was little valued by him, and in respect of any thing that had been more important to him, he hardly could have denied that which the Unknown earnestly requested. He continued some time without replying, and then of a sudden fixing his eyes upon his face: There are but few Persons, said he, to whom I would make myself known, if I were in love with my life; but I have too much regard to your desire, and too much desire myself to obtain the same thing of you, not to grant you that which you demand of me: my name is Tyridates, I am Son of the unfortunate Orodes King of the Parthians, and Brother to the cruel Phraates, who at this time wields the Sceptre of that great Monarchy. The Unknown at these words looking upon Tyridates with greater attention than before, and with some marks of astonishment: What, said he, are you the Prince Tyridates, Brother to Phraates, he who being persecuted and pursued by that cruel Brother, hath sought for refuge in all the Courts of Asia? I am the very same, replied Tyridates, he which hath wandered these twelve years to beg retreating places, and the same, ended he with a sigh, to whom the cruelty of his Brother hath created but the least of his misfortunes. Is it possible, replied the Unknown, that you being Tyridates, should not mark some features in a face, which was once familiar unto you, and that years should make such a change in yours as should hinder me from remembering it? Certain it is, replied Tyridates, that I find something in the tone of your voice, rather than in your visage, that is not altogether strange to me: It should not be, answered the Unknown, neither will it be so, when you shall remember, that we passed together the beginnings of your exile, and that it was in the Court of the King of Armenia my Father, where you took your first retreat; you are then, added Tyridates, the Son of Artibasus King of Armenia: I am, replied the Unknown, Artaxus his eldest Son, and the successor of his Crown.  
At this knowledge of the King of Armenia, Tyridates rising from his Chair, to consider him a little nearer, and remembering by little and little the ancient Ideas which time had blotted out of his memory: Ah Sir, said he, what Fortune have I to have given you this poor retreat, in exchange of that which I found in your house? and how I am obliged to my Fortune since she hath given me-occasion to render some service to a King with whom in our youth I had framed so dear acquaintance: It is a great comfort to me, added the Armenian, affectionately embracing him, and I shall now with an entire confidence acquaint you with the particulars of my life, and the secret of my affairs which have brought me hither, and retain me here in this Country. From these words they passed to an entertainment full of civility and mutual offers, wherein the King of Armenia obliged Tyridates to give him a relation of his transactions, which he did, without speaking of his love, which was the most important thing of his life, and when Artaxus was satisfied in what he desired to know of him. It is just, said he, I should make you a recital of those things which obliged me to quit my Kingdom, to pass unknown into strange Countries: I will do it, after a short recapitulation of my life, and though by some things which too just a resentment hath made me do, possibly I expose myself to some reproach from a spirit whose inclinations have been all to sweetness, yet I will pass over this difficulty, to declare myself wholly to you, and I will acquaint you with the pure truth without disguise or artifice.  

The History of ARTAXUS King of ARMENIA.  
I Will not speak to you at all concerning the first years of my life, the beginnings whereof are passed away without any memorable event, and you have learned the particulars of my education during the time you sojourned with us, when flying from the cruelty of the King your Brother, you took your first retreat at Artaxata. You know the deplorable accident of our house, and how by the cruel surprise of Anthony, the unfortunate Artibasus, together with the Prince Ariobarzanes my Brother, and the two Princesses Arsinoe and Artemisa my Sisters, was taken prisoner, and led to Alexandria, where after two years' captivity, he lost his head by the solicitation of the King of the Medes, and the command of Cleopatra. I was seventeen years of age, when the King my Father was taken, and during his Imprisomnent the Armenians having acknowledged me for their lawful Prince, I employed all my power for the liberty of the King my Father, and I forgot neither the solicitations of the Friends of Anthony to free him by fair means, nor the way of arms wherein I joined myself with Caesar his enemy, to deliver him by open force. In fine, it was the will of the Gods, and our unlucky destiny, that this deplorable Prince, against all manner of example, and against all Law divine and humane, died publicly by an infamous hand, and left in his family not only grief and desolation, but also too just subjects of eternal resentments for so bloody an injury, and for an injury whereby the dignity of all Kings was unworthily violated.  
I no sooner received the Crown, which the Armenians presently after set upon my head, but I received therewith most natural and most lawful desires of vengeance, and upon the very day of my Coronation I engaged myself by a solemn oath, to employ all my power even to the last drop of my blood to repair our disgrace, and not to spare for any consideration, either age or sex, in any that should fall into my hands, of the blood or alliance of Cleopatra or the King of the Medes.  
A little after, the Gods did in part revenge me, and the satisfaction I received by the last misfortunes of Anthony and Cleopatra, is so well known to you, and to all the world, that I need not speak of it to you. The cruel persons perish by a just indignation of Heaven, which sacrificed them to the Manes of the two Kings, and to the complaints of so many persons upon whose ruin their power was established.  
A little while after, the wicked King of the Medes died miserably: Tygranes his Son, a young Prince of my age succeeded to his Crown, and I saw myself without any other object of my revenge than the children of the horrible murderers of Artibasus. The misfortune of their Fathers, which possibly might have satisfied me, if it had happened unto them by my means alone, being befallen them by other hands, was not capable of contenting me, and I continued in a most firm resolution to revenge myself of the outrage they had done me, upon their children, and whatsoever had any relation to them, either of alliance or amity. As for the children of Cleopatra, I lost the means of my revenge by their retreat with Caesar, and by the support they found with the Emperor, the Senate, and the people of Rome; they had no Provinces left which I might waste with fire and sword for my satisfaction, and to take it upon their persons, I must force them in Rome itself, and overturn the powers of the Empire, and the Emperor which protected them, with whom I had made an alliance very necessary for the conservation of my estate.  
I was then constrained to turn my thoughts against the Son of the unfaithful Median and when I saw myself confirmed in my Kingdom, I dreamt of nothing but War upon him, and after very great preparations, I entered into his Country with a considerable power, where I began my vengeance by all manner of acts of hostility: I will not entertain you with the particulars of this War; the events thereof were a long time doubtful, and two years past wherein much blood was shed on either side, Fortune not absolutely declaring for either party. The third year I had very great advantages, which made me expect some part of that success I had desired. I took Towns, I gained Battles, and the fourth year I hoped with all appearance for the entire ruin of my Enemy, when the Gods fortified him with great succours, and weakened me by the loss of single Man, which was more hurtful to me, than the loss of a good part of my Troops would have been.  
The King of Cilicia and his Son, with a great Army, came into Media, in defence of Tygranes their near Kinsman, and a little after, upon some effect of my revenge, which I intended, following my resolution, upon all my Enemies, having had some jar with Britomarus, who at that time commanded the greatest part of my Troops, this young Warrior, who in an age scarcely distinguishable from infancy, might already be really accounted the most valiant that ever wore a Sword, quitted my service, and to my misfortune carried elsewhere the effects of an admirable valour, which would have been very necessary for me against the re-inforcement of my Enemies. The course of my good successes was stopped, and my Enemies being stronger than I, had some advantages which made me lose all that I had gained in Media, and after some Combats, wherein Fortune was not very favourable unto me. I was constrained to retire upon my frontier, where I made preparations for the last decision of our quarrel, when Augustus employed his authority to appease our differences, and sent Maecenas and Domitius with order not to depart from our Countries, before they had concluded a peace between us. I had that repugnance against it that you know of, and the Kings my Enemies b'ing exasperated by the death of some of their near Relations, whom I had sacrificed to the Ghost of Artibasus, had no more disposition to it than myself. But we must needs yield to the will of Caesar, and when it was declared on his part, that he would arm in favour of him who submitted first, against him who made most resistance, neither of us was bold enough to oppose it any longer, and having signed the Articles which Maecenas and Domitius presented to us, we both of us laid down arms, and contented ourselves to keep our animosity in our breasts, without making it appear any more.  
I retired to Artaxata, whither a little after, Caesar (whether it were that he desired to have them as hostages of the treaty we had made, or that from the relation he had heard made of them, he had conceived a desire to see them, and have them with him) sent to demand of me the Prince Ariobarzanes my Brother, and the Princess Arsinoe my Sister, to have them brought up at Rome, to frame in them inclinations to the Roman party, and to treat them like divers Sous and Daughters of the Kings, his Friends and Allies, which were brought up with him and the Empress Livia. This effect either of the amity of distrust or Caesar troubled me at first, and yet the pretence was so fair, that I could not handsomely refuse that which he demanded, and the Prince and Princess, at the first proposition which was made to them of it, having expressed no unwillingness to the Voyage, I caused a magnificent equipage to be prepared for them, and sent them from Artaxata; they crossed a part of Armenia, and coasted Licia and Pamphilia by Land, and afterwards they embarked upon the Egean Sea; but they embarked in an unlucky hour, and a few days after, by means of a terrible tempest, they suffered a cruel shipwreck, and lost under the Waves their lives, which were worthy of a better destiny. You may well believe, that an accident so deplorable, the relation of blood only might produce in me very sensible displeasures; but besides this natural resentment, Ariobarzanes and Arsinoe were two persons so uncommon, and so accomplished in the perfection of mind and body, that it would have been hard for any to have known them without shedding abundance of tears for their death. The Gods took out of the world all that was great and amiable in our family, and depriving me of a Brother and a Sister worthy of the esteem and the affection of the whole world, they have left me only one Sister worthy of the general scorn, a Sister, which by her baseness and infidelity, hath stained with a shameful blot the illustrious blood from whence she is descended, and hath raised me all these troubles of spirit for which I have abandoned my Kingdom, and by the means whereof I find myself in a strange condition.  
Time had now given some consolation to the grief which I had suffered for the sad shipwreck of half our family, and I believe in peace, though against my will, at a time when I might have ruined Tigranes by joining with the King of Parthia his enemy, against whom he made War, with successes wherein Fortune diversely sported herself, if I had not been hindered by the authority of Augustus, who would never permit me to break the peace which he had made me make with the Medians, nor to give my assistance to the Parthians, the cruel Enemies of the Roman name, with whom he could not endure that his friends should have any alliance; I passed my life, I say, in this forced tranquillity, when to overthrow my repose, and blast the honour of our Royal house, Alexander the Son of Anthony and Cleopatra, a worthy object of my lawful vengeance, came unknown to my Court, with a design to give me yet more subjects of hatred than those I had against him and his, for the cruel death of the King my Father.  
Tyridates' interrupted the King of Armenia in this part of his discourse: Alexander the Son of Anthony, said he to him, who was believed to be lost at that time when I was at Rome, or at least there was no news of him, was in Armenia then: He was there but too fatally, replied Artaxus, and Fortune which in appearance presented him to me to satisfy my just resentments, served herself with him to render them more violent, and to carry on my displeasure to the last extremities. I know you will condemn my rigour in the design I had to render what I ought to the Manes of Artibasus, and the Oath I had made; but that shall not hinder me from relating to you the naked truth, nor from expecting from you that you should approve part of that I would have done out of a sense of pity, or paternal love and honour itself, too much interessed in the bloody injury which he had received.  
After these words, he recounted to him all that had passed at Artaxata, after he had known Alexander there, the taking of that Prince, his cruel imprisonment, the solicitations of Artemisa for his safety, the extremity of danger whereunto he arrived, and in fine, all that which Alexander himself related to Caesario, till his departure from Armenia, and the carrying away of Artemisa.  
Tyridates did not hear this relation without great pain, though it was made by a person interessed, who did partly sweeten the greatest strangeness of his actions by the excuses he made for them; and besides that, he naturally detested cruelty, the friendship he had contracted with Coriolanus, and the acquaintance he had at Rome with the Princess Cleopatra, Prince Ptolomee, and the greatest part of young Alexander's kindred, put him into great fear for him, in the recital of the dangers he had run; and made him very averse from the cruelty of Artaxus. The impatience he had to hearken to him sufficiently appeared in his countenance; but when he saw Alexander escape from the rage of his Enemy, he composed himself, and all the complacence which probably he ought to have for Artaxus, could not hinder him from discovering some part of his thoughts. I am sorry, said he to him, that I am constrained to displease you by the confession I am about to make, and I profess, that if your interests do forbid me to hear of the carrying away of the Princess your Sister with joy, I cannot afflict myself with you to see Alexander escape from the punishment you had prepared for him. He was altogether innocent of your displeasures, and the Gods which are interessed in his protection, would not permit that a life free from any crime, should suffer the punishment which they themselves had inflicted upon the culpable. Alexander, replied Artaxus, was not innocent in my thoughts after the Oath I had made, seeing he was the Son of Cleopatra; neither was he so in effect, seeing he came into my dominions with designs whereof he hath made one part appear, and would have put the other in execution, if Heaven, which watches for the preservation of Kings, had not prevented the effects, by the knowledge which it gave me of my disguised enemy: However it be, mark the sequel, and admire at the capriciousness of my fortune in the relation I am about to make you.  
All expression would be too weak to make you comprehend the displeasure I resented by the double injury I received in the flight of Alexander and Artemisa: Theogenes the companion of the traitorous Sarpedon, was the first that received the punishment, either of his weakness in suffering himself to be abused, or of his infidelity in consenting to their escape, and few of all those that were apparently suspected, escaped the justice which I caused to be executed upon them. These testimonies of my grief were public, but the secret effects which it produced in my heart, were yet more contrary to my repose, and possibly no mind was ever agitated with more violence than mine. Whilst those whom I sent in pursuit of my two fugitives, ranged up and down the Country in vain, I was tormented with despite, which had almost carried me to extremities against myself, and I had not one moments sleep but what was interrupted by my cruel disquiets: What, said I, in Artaxata, in my prisons, upon the point of being sacrificed to my just vengeance, doth the Son of Cleopatra alone, disarmed without the assistance of any of his Friends, not only escape my Justice, and deprive me of the pleasure and the glory of having rendered to my Father's Ghost part of what was due to it; but together with his life, he robs me of my only Sister, and aggravates the displeasures which we have received from his race, by the last outrage he doth to ours? Is it not enough for this audacious Enemy, to be born of the cruel murderers of my Father, but that he must needs come into my Dominions to redouble my resentments by the only injury he could do me, and that he must have good success in so bold a design, at the instant that his neck was stretched out under the axe, and when I thought that all the power of man was not capable of guarding him from it? But, O Gods! that which I am most sensible of, is, that my own relations contribute to my grief, and Heaven in causing the rest of my family to perish, hath left me a Sister only to make her serve as an instrument to my shame, by her own; and it must needs be that in the Royal house of Armenia, there must be found a Princess base enough to abandon the interests of her blood, and to abandon herself to the Son of the executioners of her Father. Ah! at least if this perfidious Ariadne might find in the person of her suborner, an unfaithful Theseus, by whom Heaven might revenge me of her Treason, I should receive no small consolation, if the young deceiver should leave her exposed in some desert and savage Isle; or rather, O ye Gods, that by your indignation they might both perish in the waves, how would my grief be eased, and how heartily would I forgive fortune part of the injuries that she hath done me? But O unworthy as I am! said I to myself a little after, why do I expect from my Enemies, why do I look for that from the Destinies which are against me, that which I ought to seek for, and find in myself alone? It is Artaxus himself who is called to carve out his own revenge, it is by Artaxus himself that it must be executed, he must pursue himself, both his unfaithful Sister, and the young Seducer, and go kill them both in those places where they have sought their refuges: For, by the memory of this affront, the repose of his life will be eternally crossed, and he cannot pass it either with honour or pleasure, as long as his Enemy's triumph over him so many ways, whilst he hath made no attempt to satisfy himself.  
This thought did not lightly pass out of my mind, it fixed itself there so strongly, that at last I resolved upon it; and after I had considered that I could receive no reparation from Augustus, when I should make my complaints, but what would come too late, I took a firm resolution to pursue after my Enemies myself. I pondered a long time with much irresolution upon the course I should take: at first I would have armed all my forces; but I knew not whither to conduct them, and not doubting but Alexander and Artemisa were retired to Augustus, I found myself too weak to pluck them thence by open force, and I could not with any likelihood so much as suffer it to be propounded. At last, after I had sufficiently consulted, I pitched upon a course somewhat extravagant, but yet it seemed more agreeable to my mind, and I resolved to part from Armenia, unknown, and with such an Equipage as might not render me suspected to seek out the Court of Augustus, who made his Progress through Asia, and if I could there meet with my fugitives, as I did not doubt but I should, I determined to destroy them both. You will tell me that I must needs be animated with a very violent passion, that could carry me to such extremities to abandon a Kingdom, wherein by my absence great troubles might be raised, to expose myself to vexations and dangers wherein I might probably find the death which I went to inflict upon others. I will confess to you that I was yet more passionate, and that to content my resentments, I was capable of stronger resolutions. At last I confirmed myself, and in the space of one single day, putting my most important affairs in some order, as much as my passion would permit me, I parted from Artaxata only with twenty horse, carrying with me but this small number of my Servants, which I had chosen out among the most affectionate, and the most daring. In this equipage, after I was gone out of Armenia, I crossed a part of Cilicia, where I kept myself very private, not being ignorant, that by reason of the hatred which the King of that Country had against me, my life was in very great danger if I had been known. In this Country I understood that Augustus after that he had visited the Provinces of Asia, which were under his Dominion, was passed into the Isle of Cyprus, from whence he was going into Egypt to make some stay there: this news obliged me to take a Vessel at the Port of Jotepa, where I embarked myself for Alexandria. In all my Voyage, both by Land and by Sea, my resentments gave me no respite, and the memory of the injuries I had received, rendered itself continually so powerful over my spirit, that it hardly permitted me to taste any moment of repose. Awakening very often out of the little sleep it left me, and speaking to Alexander as if he had been present: Son of Anthony, said I, thou art not yet escaped from my vengeance, and in those places wherein thou shalt believe thyself most assured, thou shalt see thy irreconcilable Enemy punish thee for the crime of thy Parents, and the offence thou hast done him. That Woman unworthy of the name of a Princess, and the shame of an illustrious race, shall receive the same punishment; and I swear before all the Gods, that I will spare neither Sex nor proximity of blood, in taking satisfaction for the injury I have received. If my bad Fortune robs my vengeance of the fugitive Alexander, there are still some of the Children of Anthony and Cleopatra with Augustus; there is Ptolemy, and there is Cleopatra; the first of the two that shall fall into my hands, or possibly both of them together, shall pay without pity for the outrages of their friends. Alexander was no more culpable of the death of Artibasus, than they: if they are innocent of my last injury, the former renders them criminal enough: and as by my Sister, Alexander hath revenged himself upon me, so by his Brother or Sister I will revenge myself upon him, and if he escapes my just indignation, I shall find some part of my satisfaction in making it fall upon those that have relation to him.  
This was in effect my resolution, and I continued my Voyage, upon the design of seizing upon all that I could meet of the blood of Cleopatra without any distinction or consideration. We had the winds very favourable divers days, but at the latter end of our Navigation there arose a furious Tempest, which tossed us up and down for two days space with horrible danger. I saw myself an hundred times upon the point of ending my resentments together with my life in the waters, and instead of the death which I went to inflict upon my Enemies, I thought I should have found mine own. In fine, our fortune was such that we escaped from the fury of the waters, and my Vessel proving able enough to resist, and our Seamen being very expert in their Art, it saved itself from the storm entire, and in a condition to pursue our Navigation as before: Nay, I was so happy, that I was hardly turned out of my Way by the Tempests, and the same day that the storm ceased, we were within a days sail of Alexandria.  
We sailed towards that City with speed enough, when as by a most prodigious effect of Fortune, we met with a Vessel wherein we saw at first sight something of Pomp and Magnificence in regard of its Beauty, but by the violence of the Tempest it was rendered unprofitable for sailing, the Masts and the Rudder were broken; and if it defended those within from the danger of the Waves, through the care they had of stopping the leaks, they had lost the means of steering it according to their design, and it floated up and down almost at the pleasure of the Wind, though they that guided it laboured much to make it advance towards Alexandria. We passed so near to them that we could discern these particulars, and when we could distinctly hear one another from one Vessel to the other, we saw Men in the Vessel which we had met, who by their suppliant gestures begged assistance of us, and one of them speaking: Friends, said he, whoever ye be, Fortune presents you with an occasion of performing an action of goodness, and in that to serve such persons who are able to requite that good office with great rewards; we are but a few persons in this vessel, and if you please to receive us into yours, you will render that service to an illustrious Princess, and to a Person very considerable to Caesar: These words, which I heard distinctly from the place where I was, caused me to come upon the deck, from whence I demanded of him that had spoken, the name of that person considerable to Caesar, from whom he had implored our assistance: It is, said he to me, a Princess, whom he esteems as much as if she had been born of his Sister Octavia, and it is, that you may know hereby a name sufficiently famous, the Princess Cleopatra.  
This Man had no sooner uttered the name of Cleopatra to me detestable, but I trembled and shaken from head to foot out of a strange Antipathy; I changed colour divers times in a few moments, and I continued for some time so astonished, that I was hardly capable of knowing what I did, I quitted my Kingdom, and I went unknown, and without a train, to expose myself to great troubles and dangers to seek out my Enemies, and Fortune began to offer them to me by so uncommon an adventure, that it seemed to me that they had fallen into my hands by a most evident justice of Heaven. This reflection which I quickly made, dissipated my first amazement, and awaking me from my doting, with a transport of joy: O Gods, cried I out! O Fortune, how favourable are ye to me, and how am I obliged to the care you take yourselves of chalking out the way to my vengeance? Is it not time, continued I, to dispute with the pity which her Sex may move; she shall die as being the Daughter of Cleopatra, she shall die as being the Sister of Alexander, and by her Death I will begin to revenge myself both of the Executioners of Artibasus, and the Ravisher of Artemisa.  
Speaking these words, I commanded the Vessel to be grappled, and that was no sooner done, but followed by all my men, I leapt into it with my sword in my hand. The few Men that were there, Men without arms, and of small ability to defend themselves, having marked my words and my action, and that, instead of persons who might succour them, they had met with mortal Enemies, being excited with some fidelity to the Ladies whom they conducted, they would have put themselves into a condition of making some resistance; but this design was fatal to the first that prepared for it, and in a few moments a part of those which opposed our passage, being fallen dead at our first blows, their companions lost courage, and crying out for mercy, they ran to hide themselves in the safest parts of the ship.  
My men killed some more of them, but I troubled not myself with it, and being spurred on by the design which aimed only at Cleopatra, I went to seek her in her Chamber, where she was shut in with two other Women, making prayers and vows to Heaven for deliverance from the peril whereunto they were exposed. The door of the Chamber was presently broken open, and I no sooner appeared at the entry with my bloody sword in my hand, but these women being affrighted, expressed their fear by great out cries. Thou must die, said I, throwing myself into her Chamber, Daughter of Anthony, thou must die. I would have made some body show me which was she, that I might let my vengeance light upon none but herself, but besides, that by the respect which the others showed her, I might judge which was she, by the relation which I had heard made of her admirable Beauty, I presently took knowledge of her, and her countenance being less dismayed than her women's were, she cast her eyes upon me, which instantly discovered her to me. The view which I received at some far distance did not dissipate my resentments, and I went towards her with my sword advanced; with a design according to my opinion nothing was capable to divert; but when I had cast mine eyes more nearly upon this miraculous Beauty, and that from the first dazzling I passed to a more particular attention to the prodigies which presented themselves to my sight, I remained in the condition of those, whom the terrible visage of Gorgon converted into stones: my arm grew stiff in the air, my body continued deprived of all force and motion, my voice was stopped in my mouth, and I did almost totally pass into the nature of those metamorphosed Statues.  
At first my immobility only, and the change of my countenance expressed my astonishment, and I contented myself to behold this adorable marvel, without having changed my posture, or appearing animated by any other motion, than that of my eyes; but a little after all my choler being insensibly dissipated by this betwitching sight, and these violent thoughts quitting their place by little and little, to others more tender and more powerful than the sword which I held fell out of my hand at the feet of this Divine Princess, and I not only lost the design which I had against so precious a life, but the fury from which moved me to it, I fell into a shame and repentance, athousand times greater than my choler had been.  
I had retired some steps from the Princess, whence I kept my eyes fixed upon the Princess f●et, not daring any more to lift them up to her face, and by my action I made her sufficiently take notice of the disorder and confusion of my soul: But at last I recovered out of this dump, and rallying up all my courage to serve me in this adventure, I fell upon one knee before her, and breaking the silence which I had so long kept: Divine Princess, said I to her, it is not necessary that I should express my repentance to you in words: my visage and the condition wherein you see in me so different from that wherein I appeared at first before you sufficiently speak my confusion; and You may be pleased to know at length, that instead of a ●u●ious Enemy which some moments since attempted upon this sacred life of yours, You have a Man at Your feet full of grief for this crime, and ready to repair it with his own life, if there be no possibility of hoping pardon for it from your goodness. The point of this Sword which I had drawn against You, returns against my own heart and it is but in vain for a Man to arm himself to offend You, seeing that all arms are useless to defend one's self against You. I lay down at your feet, together with this Sword, all my choler, and all the design of revenge which I had framed against You and Yours: Those cruel resolutions, though grounded upon some justice, could not preserve themselves against such Enemies, and I see myself in fine reduced to implore Your pity, I who thought to have been without pity all my life towards the race of Anthony.  
At the end of these words I arose, to give order to my Men that respect should succeed in the place of the disorder which they had begun in a place which was become sacred to me, and seeing that the astonishment of the Princess was so great, that it had not yet permitted her to reply: Believe not, continued I, that I am a Pirate armed against You and yours for hope of Booty; I will avow to You, with a confession full of horror, that it is Your Life I would have had, and Cleopatra only that I sought for: this crime is monstrous and the reasons wherewith I would have excused it heretofore, cannot any longer defend me against You: but in fine, seeing I must needs say it again to You, to my own confusion, it was the blood of Anthony and Cleopatra which I would have shed: and to let You understand the cause I might have for it, it will suffice to tell you that I am Artaxus King of Armenia, Son of the unfortunate Artibasus, whom You have seen a captive, and whom you have seen die by the cruelty of Your Friends. The bloody injury I suffered in his death, hath been seconded by other offences I have received from Alexander your Brother, and in brief I was animated with reasons strong enough against Your race, if it had produced me other Enemies than You, and if my Fortune had not confronted me with an enemy which disarmed me sooner than all the powers of the Empire could have done. Excuse, Madam, the excess of my resentment by the lawfulness of it, and seeing I have made all the thoughts, which the force of blood, and the love of my Father, and my own honour had inspired me with against Your Family, to give place to those I have now for You; Do not in the name of the Gods keep any longer against a repentant and an humbled Prince, those resentments which a design too inhuman may justly have produced in You against me.  
I spoke in this manner, and the Princess, who during my discourse had had leisure to compose herself, answered me in these terms: I praise the Gods, who instead of Pirates, when we feared, have made us fall into the hands of a Prince who though incensed against our family, is yet born of a Royal blood, and endued with royal inclinations. Your resentments are just, Sir, and though my birth inclines me to favour them, yet I cannot disapprove the anger You have conserved against those who were the cause of the King your Father's death; if they were living, no Person could not condemn what the memory of such an injury might make You undertake against them, but Heaven hath severely punished the outrage they did You, and the Children they have left, were not only innocent of Your injury, but they were partakers of it themselves, and detested the cause of it as much as the age they were then of could permit them to do: and Alexander, whom You accuse of some new offence, appeared, as young as he was, as much interessed in it as if he had been of Your Family. This remembrance, Sir, will moderate the anger you have against that unfortunate house, and without doubt you have too much justice to confound the innocent with the culpable. Oh, ●cyed I, transported with a growing passion which began to take possession of my soul with an absolute power, Ah! do not call the Children of Cleopatra innocent, they finish what their Mother had only begun, and it is ordained by the Gods, that your house should be fatal to the house of Armenia.  
These words escaped me in the first motions of my spirit, and my heart, as I believe, uttered them rather than my mouth. In effect, if at the first sight of Cleopatra I was amazed, astonished, and confounded; by the grace she had in her discourse, and the new marvels I discovered in her Person, in a few moments not only my inclinations were changed, but there succeeded to this astonishment, confusion and repentance, a violent love, which left nothing of liberty in my soul. Other Persons might possibly wonder to see me pass so easily from one passion to another quite contrary; but since you have seen Cleopatra, there is no necessity that I should seek to give you reasons of this change, the knowledge you have of her wonders, saves me the labour of a description of them, which without doubt would excuse the facility I used in rendering up myself. However it be, I was subjected as entirely to her powers, as if I had known them divers Years, possible it is that those who had passed part of their life in her service, were not more inflamed than I was in a few moments. Ab how hard was it to defend one's self against the divine Beauties of Cleopatra, and how weak are common resolutions to resist forces like hers! I left my liberty at her feet, as well as my anger and my sword: and in my Soul, where all the passions acted with violence, Love was presently at the height, and arrived at those extremities that no other but myself was capable of. Ordinary effects might have been produced by common beauties; but to have disarmed at the first sight an indignation which probably could not be appeased but by the blood of all the race of Anthony, and to have changed the cruel resolutions which had made me abandon my Kingdom, and expose my person to all manner of pains and dangers, into violent love, this was that which appertained to none but the beauty of Cleopatra only. I became her Slave, I became her Idolater ever since she began to show herself to my eyes with all her powers, and that the fright, which had concealed part of her charms, being dissipated, her visage appeared to us in a more serene and composed condition. Behold in what manner my condition was changed in a small time; from being furious and terrible I became gentle and submissive, and I saw myself reduced to implore pity of them, whom I had seen in need of begging mine. It would not have been difficult for Cleopatra, if she would have attentively regarded it, to have known the disorders of my soul; and my visage speaking the estate of my spirit with more expressions than my tongue could have done, made her without doubt take notice of the troubles which perplexed me by its several changes, but it was necessary that my mouth should second it, and my passion had hardly received a Birth, but that it was too great and violent to be concealed.  
Possibly at another time, and in another conjuncture of things respect would have tied my tongue, and not have permitted me to declare so soon to the Princess the thoughts which had scarce received any form; but as my love took birth by an extraordinary way, I did not believe myself obliged to common formalities, and I judged that I might act as destiny acted in me. At length whether it were for this reason, or through some impetuosity which transported my spirit above all reason, I could no longer retain that which would manifest itself; and looking upon Cleopatra in a very submissive way: Divine Princess, said I to her, I have quitted my Dominions, I have abandoned all things to go and destroy the children of Anthony, but through the indignation of Heaven, which possibly hath not approved of my reseatments, I find that in you, which I thought to have brought you, and if you be not sensible of compassion, you are in a condition of revenging yourself upon all the designs I have had against You and yours. In fine, one way or another, it is fatal to the Kings of Armenia, to give their life to the Cleopatra 's, and what the Father suffered by the axe of the former, the Son is like to suffer by the eyes of the latter.  
I cast down my eyes at the end of these words, and Cleopatra did the like with a blush which mounted into her face. I expected some answer from her fair mouth, but when I saw she remained silent without going about to reply to my discourse: I do not think it strange, continued I, that these words should surprise you, coming from a Prince from whom probably you ought not to expect them, and the condition wherein you see me is so different from that wherein you saw me when I entered into your Chamber, that a change so sudden may with much reason produce an astonishment in you: Nevertheless it is very certain, that the same enemy which came with cruel designs against your life, exposes his own at your feet, which he would not preserve but to give it you entire; and that if you disdain it as unworthy to be offered to you, or detest it as belonging to an enemy, he will willingly sacrifice it either to your resentment, or to his own ill fortune. Look no more upon me, adorable daughter of my enemies, as the revenger of Artibasus, but as a Son who folllows the destiny of his Father, and who will undergo the sentence which you will condemn him to, much more willingly than his Father did.  
I held my peace at these words, keeping myself in a very humble and suppliant posture, and the Princess after she had stayed some time longer without speaking, at last lifting her eyes towards me: It is true Sir, said she to me, that I am no less surprised at your words, than I was afraid at your first actions, and there was so little probability of expecting this change by such mean powers as mine, that I cannot without confusion give attention to the declaration you make me of it. Howsoever, I account myself as innocent of the accusation you lay upon me, as I was of the fault of my Parents, and it shall never be by my design that you shall follow the destiny of your Father. I see myself reduced by my destiny to hearken to discourses whereunto possibly at another time and amongst other persons I should not have been exposed; but I support it with patience, and it is just that I should suffer something from him, who hath received so cruel a displeasure from my relations: If by my discourses, replied I, you suffer any thing, the Gods are my witnesses it is not by my intention, and it shall never be out of revenge that I give you my heart, and despoil myself of my liberty. Your powers are too well known by yourself to let you find any strangeness in this change, and though you have not contributed to it by your own design, yet you will not be innocent of it, if you do not look with pity upon the evil you have done me.  
Cleopatra, then composed her countenance to gravity and severity more than before, and looking upon me with a coldness accompanied with some disdain: You shall never be in a condition, said she to me, to have need of my pity, and it shall never be my intention to reduce you to it: I shall be very much obliged to you if for my sake you would abandon the desires of revenge you have conceived against the remainders of our family; but if you please, I will pass by that, or if I require any effect of your goodness, it is only this, that you would cause us to be conducted to Alexandria; the passage over thither is very short, and there without doubt you shall receive thanks from Caesar for the good office you have rendered to persons who are not indifferent to him.  
These word; of Cleopatra did not presently receive an answer, and the request she made to me was very unconformable to my intentions. Fortune had put her into my hands by a too extraordinary adventure to make me lose all the advantage of it so quickly, and if her beauty had freed her from my choler, I could not consent that her return to her Friends should so speedily rob my love of her. I saw that in the very place where she was subject to my power, and where in respect of the danger she had run, she had some cause to fear me, she appeared little disposed to any compliance with my love; and I had reason enough to fear, that when she should be no longer in the place where I might serve myself with those advantages which fortune had given me near her, she would reject my affections with disdain, whereof I had noted some marks in her visage and her last expressions. This consideration made me resolve not to have her back to Alexandria, till I had better sounded her inclinations and judged whether I might hope for any acknowledgement of my love from her, when she should be at liberty; yet as my passion made me afraid to displease her, I dissembled my design to her, and after I had told her that I was disposed to obey her will, I prayed her to pass out of her own vessel which was broken and unprofitable for navigation, into mine, which was in a condition to do us service. The Princess passed into it with her Maids, and the few men that were left, the rest having lost their lives in the resistance which they would have made against us. Of two Chambers that were in the vessel I left her the best, where having entreated her to repose herself a while; I retired myself into the other with my men, and having caused those to be called who had the care of conducting the vessel, I commanded them to sail slowly towards Alexandria, but not to land, and to keep themselves along the coast some furlongs from the City. I caused them to take this way (though as I told you my intention was not to go to Alexandria) partly not to alarm the Princess, and partly because the wind stood that way, and was quite contrary to our return for Armenia.  
A little after night came on, and we having cast Anchor in a place where we found ground, we passed the night at so near a distance, that if the darkness had not hindered us, we might have seen the walls of Alexandria.  
Some while after I returned to the Princess, from whom I could stay no longer without great constraint, and being entered into some discourse with her, she prayed me to inform her what displeasure I had received from Prince Alexander her Brother, for whom she was extremely in pain; having heard no news of him since the arrival of his Equipage at Rome, after his return from Pannonia. I made some difficulty at the first to satisfy her desire, fearing to incense her against me by the use I showed to her Brother: but because I naturally hate to dissemble, I was willing to let her understand the truth, and beginning to speak after a short interval of silence: Madam, said I, I cannot give you a more perfect testimony of the power you have over me, than in making the relation you require: I fear truly that by recounting what I have done, and what I would have done against your relations, I shall incur your aversion, and if you do not excuse me by the just subject of my resentments, without doubt you will condemn them of effects contrary to clemency; but seeing it is impossible to disobey you, and my humour shall never be to conceal my most secret thoughts from you; and lastly, what I have done against your Brother is less criminal, than that which I have undertaken against you, I will inform you of all without any disguise.  
After these words, I related to her all that had happened to her Brother in Armenia, in the same manner that I related it but now to you; and though I endeavoured in some places to smooth over the roughness of my proceedings, I could not do it so, but that the Princess was troubled very often, and found in the confession which I made to her, great cause to hate me. During my discourse I took notice of it divers times by the change of her countenance, and by some exclamations which she made, in those parts of my relation, wherein she saw her Brother in the greatest extremity of danger; but when I was at the end of my narration, looking upon me with eyes wherein her new resentment was expressed, whatsoever she did to disguise it: I must needs tell you, said she, and I cannot hinder myself from doing it, that to have been capable of what you have recounted to me, you must have been the issue of a Lion, or some thing yet more cruel; and this perseverance to make an innocent Prince die a shameful death, joined with an obstinacy against pity, which so many objects, and so many reasons ought to have introduced into your soul, expresses an harshness of nature which I should never have suspected in the Son of a King. If my cruelty against your Brother, replied I, merits the horror which you express at it, you will hardly excuse that of the Queen your Mother, who without having received any injury from him, only at the solicitation of his enemy, really executed that upon the person of a great King, which I would have done upon your Brother in revenge of my Father. Yet I will not say before you that I am innocent, and I confess that though I should have been excusable for putting to death the Son of Anthony, yet I ought to treat the Brother of Cleopatra with sweetness and respect: but Madam at that time I was as ignorant of what was due to you, as I was of your person; and since that of your presecutour and your enemy I am become your adorer, I condemn all that is past, and I tremble myself at the memory of that which I have enterprised against your Friends. Do not therefore, O divine Cleopatra, follow the example of that which you detest, avoid in yourself that cruelty which you justly condemn in others. This pity and this goodness, which are so natural to you, will find in me fit matter to employ themselves upon, and the more culpable I shall be towards you, the more commendable will your compassion be in exercising its self towards him who of all men hath rendered himself least worthy of it.  
I used other discourses to her, whereunto she made little answer, and seeing that some part of the night was spent, and that it was time for her to take her repose, I bade her good night, and left her in the Chamber with her Maids. I know not what her thoughts were during the night, but I very well know that mine kept me awake till daybreak, and this fair image was not a moment out of my memory. These admirable beauties, whereunto the Sun without doubt never saw any equal, presented themselves to my mind with new forces, and all that could dispute any thing against them in my soul was so dissipated by the reflection I made upon them, that persons grown old in love could hardly have been more subjected to them, than I was in a piece of one single day: I considered then as much as I could possible the change of my condition, and seeing how different I was from what I had been some hours before, I could not think upon it without being amazed myself, and admiring at the capriciousness of my fortune: This said I, thou didst run as furious as a Lion to the ruin and death of the children of Anthony, and this night thou seest thyself in a condition not to hold thy life but from the daughter of Anthony. The choler which agitated thee with so much violence hath made way for another passion no less violent than thy choler; and if at the first appearance it conceals its cruelty from thee, it will make itself known to thee in a condition wherein all the force of thy soul will not be able to secure thee. Certain it is thou lovest the greatest beauty the world hath; but thou lovest a person whom thou hast prepossessed with aversion and horror, both by the relation thou hast made her, and by that thou hast attempted against herself: she will hardly love him who with a Barbarous design hath presented his sword at her throat, and who was obstinately resolved to the very last to make her wellbeloved Brother suffer a shameful death. Cleopatra is not a prize to be obtained by outrage and cruelty, and what I could not merit by my blood and services, I shall hardly gain by the horrible ways which have brought me acquainted with her. O love! thou which establishest thyself so unseasonably in an heart which never knew thee, what wilt thou have me do to march under thy Empire, and what way wilt thou open to me through the cruel difficulties which oppose my fortune? shall I go to require Caesar, and of that Alexander whom I have used so unworthily, a Sister, whom chance hath put into my hands, in exchange of a Sister, which he hath robbed me of? Ah without doubt the resentment both of the Brother and Sister doth oppose all the hope I can conceive upon that part: Alexander will call to mind with a just indignation, that I have caused him to be brought upon a Scaffold to lose his head, and Cleopatra will no sooner be at liberty, but she will look upon me as an Executioner thirsting after her blood, rather than upon one, who at first sight hath surrendered up his heart to her. Shall I make use of my fortune and take the way back to Armenia to conduct Cleopatra into places, where by an absolute power I may render Cleopatra more conformable to my will? Ah this violence will be contrary to that love which is established in my soul with respect and observance, and if Cleopatra consents not to it, I shall hardly dispose my mind to offer her any constraint. What shall we do then, O love, and what counsel wilt thou give me in my irresolutions? I discoursed within myself in this manner, and I found so many difficulties on all sides, that the day appeared before I had determined any thing.  
When Cleopatra was fit to be seen, I went to give her good-morrow, and I found in her countenance disdain and marks of dislike, though out of prudence in the condition wherein she then was, she endeavoured to dissemble it, which I took for a very bad augury. After the first discourses wherewith I accosted her, approaching to her in the most pleasing and submissive manner I could possibly: May the Gods, said I, be pleased to pardon You the ill you have done me; but I may truly tell you that I have suffered more since I have been with you, than I had ever suffered either by my passions, or the calamities of my Family throughout the rest of my life. It is no design of mine, replied the Princess coldly, and I am no more culpable of it, than Alexander was of the death of the King your Father. This reply full of reproach made me blush, who at another time and from another person could have heard a thousand times as much without being moved, and looking upon the Princess with an air altogether passionate: Do not compare, said I to her, the innocence of yourself, and yours in relation to the misfortune of Artibasus, to that whereunto you pretend in respect of the ill you have done to his Son: that comes entirely from you, and your design was not necessary to that which your powers could execute alone, without calling your intention to their aid. These are they who conspiring with my destiny, entirely give me to you, and if you do not disdain the affections of a Prince, who renders at your feet the homage of an eternal fidelity; together with my person such as it is, I offer you a flourishing Crown by such ways as probably will not be disapproved by Your friends, which banishing the hatred of our houses, will unite them by an eternal alliance: There is but a little probability, replied the Princess with her former coldness, that you desire alliance with a Family against which you have had so bloody an hatred; and a passion which causes such strange effects as those which it produced in you, is not eradicated by a light impression: Ah! answered I all transported, I am not only entirely free from it, but all the motions of hatred which I have sometimes had, are changed into motions of love, and for your sake I will love all your Relations, as much as I ever hated them. I know not, added the Princess, whether You can expect the same change from them, it will not be easy for me to turn my inclinations towards You after that which I have beheld with my eyes, and what I have heard You relate concerning the cruelties You have exercised against my Brother.  
Cleopatra was not over-prudent to make this declaration to me in a condition wherein she was totally in my power; but whether it were that she well knew her power over my spirit, or whether indeed her courage could not degenerate from itself, more than what she was at that time by her fortune, and did not by dissembling seek that assurance which she believed due to her in what condition soever she should fall into: Ah cruel Princess, said I to her, if You do not take heed, You go about to cast Yourself into the same vice wherewith You reproach me, and You will lose the advantages of innocence and goodness which You have hitherto had over me, if You appear more inexorable, and more void of pity than myself: I fear not that reproach, answered Cleopatra, and I shall be sufficiently exempted from it, when I shall never procure you, nor wish you ill: Alas! replied I to her with a sigh, what greater evil can you wish me, than that whereunto I see myself exposed by your rigour? Do you believe that what I would have made your Brother suffer, was more cruel? and are you ignorant that the torments of the body are not less violent than those of the mind? I made her divers other discourses upon the same subject, to which she answered with her former coldness, though knowing the power I had over her, she endeavoured sometimes to dissemble part of the repugnance she had against me.  
In the mean time we sailed but slowly towards Alexandria, and before the end of the day we arrived some furlongs from the Coast, but yet above the City, where, as I told you, I had no intention to land. The Princess seeing herself in this place, prayed me to conduct her to the City; but I paid her with an excuse, and told her that sovereign Princes were not wont to enter into others Territories without giving them notice, and that I was obliged to advertise Augustus of my coming, and desire permission to come into his Dominions, before I set foot upon the Land. The Princess took this reason as well as she could, and in the interim we passed this night in this place, our Vessel being covered with a great Rock, seemingly expecting those whom I feigned to send to Caesar, but indeed waiting for a favourable wind to return towards Armenia. This night was likewise to me as full of inquietudes as the former, and the next morning I no sooner saw the Princess, but accosting her with a very submissive action: Fair Cleo atra, said I to her, you are sufficiently revenged upon my cruelty, and those Friends of yours who are interessed therein, will not order more cruel torments for me themselves, than I have suffered since I have been with you: have some regard of them if you desire to maintain yourself in the justice of your cause, and do not disdain a King who not only sacrifices his resentments to yours, but offers up his own self to the indignation which his actions may have produced in you against him.  
The Princess, as I judged afterwards, constrained herself not to answer me according to the hatred which she had conceived against me, and not so much as looking upon me: I have no disdain for you, said she, but I am but little mistress of myself, and there are persons to whom my birth hath made me subject, whose consent you rather ought to seek than mine, in relation to the offers you made me: And who are those persons, said I, to whom you have left this disposal? 'Tis Caesar, replied the Princess, 'Tis Octavia, and above all, 'Tis Alexander my Brother whom you know, to whom I have remitted the care of my destiny. I know well enough that she was spiteful in this discourse, and what she spoke of Alexander only to set before mine eyes the usage I had made him. In this thought beholding her with eyes which made some complaint of her rigour: Ah! Princess, said I to her, your spirit is more revengeful than mine, and that very Alexander with whom you reproach me, would without doubt be less obdurate himself against a Prince of whom he is sufficiently revenged: By the carrying away of my Sister he is satisfied for all the outrages he had received in Armenia, and I assure myself that in exchange for my Sister he will not refuse me his.  
The Princess seeing herself pressed in this manner, answered me no more, and the respect which my love caused in me to her, hindered me from importuning her any farther.  
A little after those whom I had sent to Alexandria to learn the news, and not to present themselves to Caesar, returned, and reported to us that Caesar was not yet arrived at Alexandria, but was expected there within two or three days, and that he stayed at Pelusium where he landed, after had lost part of his Vessels. At this discourse after I had continued some moments very pensive: I am sorry Madam, said I to the Princess, that this obstacle doth for some days retard the desire you have to see your Friends, and it is necessary either that I attend here the arrival of the Emperor, or that I send to Pelusium, to render him the same respect which I ought to have done at Alexandria. I know not, replied the Princess, whether you have need of this precaution or not, but I, to whom it is not necessary, am permitted to enter into Alexandria without giving notice unto Caesar, and you may, if you please, let me be conducted thither by those of my own men that are left, without putting yourself to the trouble. Ah! Madam, replied I, The Gods forbid I should so much injure the duty I bear you, and that I should leave to others an honour which is dearer to me than my life: I will present you to Caesar myself, and I shall be glad to make it known, that Kings only are worthy to be your Conductors.  
I used other discourses to her to defend myself from the urgent desire she had to be set on shore, and to be left at liberty to retire herself, by means of which she opened her eyes to the truth, and plainly perceived that she had no longer any power to dispose of her actions. She beheld me then with eyes full of the marks of her resentment, and having fixed them a while upon my face without speaking: I always doubted, said she to me, that I was still in the hands of our most cruel Enemy, and your inclinations, though a little disguised, cannot long conceal themselves. I had no longer either power or will to dissemble my intentions, seeing well that we were no longer in terms to keep them private, and speaking to her with more assurance than before: 'Tis certain, said I, that I shall hardly dispose myself to part from you, and that I am resolved to do what I can possibly to conduct you into Armenia, where I will lay my Crown and Person at your feet with an entire resignation: Do not condemn this design, Madam, which you have not examined; your condition will not be better in Alexandria, nor in Rome itself, than in a Kingdom wherein all things shall submit themselves to your Empire, and the Gods which disapproved all other revenges which I intended to take upon Alexander, have guided me themselves to the only way of being revenged upon him without offending him.  
The Princess could not then contain herself within the bounds of her ordinary moderation, and casting a look upon me inflamed with indignation: Go Barbarian, said she to me, and pursue thy vengeance by the former ways which are more natural to thee, than those which thou wouldst make use of to no purpose: in these disccurses thou dost offer too much violence to thy intentions, and I will never force mine for a monster, who thirsts after our blood: the heart of Cleopatra is not to be gained by the effects of an horrible inhumanity, and if it be by the power which Fortune hath given thee over me, that thou pretendest to the accomplishment of thine intentions, know that by a death which I little fear, I shall know how to free myself from thy cruelty, and as soon as thou shalt cause thy vessel to be turned towards Armenia, I shall find in these Waves which will be less cruel and less odious than thou art, succour against the violence thou preparest for me.  
This discourse which she pronounced with a very resolute action, made me afraid, and calling to mind that she was the Daughter of a Mother who knew how to prefer death before captivity, I feared lest she should execute what she had threatened. In this fear, really loving her with an immoderate ardency, I durst not let my Vessel stir from the place where we were, and I continued there that day, and part of the next, being very uncertain what resolution to take. In the mean time I flattered her as much as possibly I could, and I spared nothing to mollify her, representing to her whatsoever might conduce to the justification of the things I had done, and all the advantages which she might hope for in the possession of such a Crown as that of Armenia; but I laboured in vain, and her spirit being exasperated more and more by the loss of her liberty, she did not hear me but with pain, and did not vouchsafe so much as to look upon me.  
In fine, I was resolved to carry her into Armenia, whether she would or no, where I hoped to sweeten her, and make her consent to conditions very advantageous for her, or if I could not overcome her obstinacy, I should have had the satisfaction of being partly revenged for the carrying away of Artemisa, and of obliging Alexander to follow his Sister, as he had created me the trouble of running after mine.  
But to overthrow all this design, yesterday she feigned an indisposition which kept her upon the bed part of the day, and seeing me extremely in pain for her health, she sent me word by one of her Maids, that her malady proceeded from her inability to endure the Sea, and that she would receive a great deal of ease, if I would permit her to go on shore, and walk an hour upon the Land. This proposition displeased me at the first, presaging what is since arrived, and I told her that made it to me, that it was impossible for me to grant it, and that I was too fearful to lose the good which Fortune had bestowed upon me, to put myself into that hazard: but seeing that the Princess persevered in expressing this desire with a great deal of regret for my refusal, I attempted to conquer my fear by the love I bore her, and I resolved to give her this satisfaction with the greatest precaution, and security that could be taken.  
We approached then to the shore, where the Princess landed with one of her Maids only, and I likewise went ashore with her, attended by three or four of my Men, leaving the rest in the Vessel to guard the Princess' servants, in case they should have gone from thence to have procured succour; which was all the danger I could apprehend from them. I caused likewise two horses to be led after me, and I put on all my arms, except my Head piece, which one of my men carried after me, that I might be furnished with some defence to encounter what hazard Fortune should send us.  
Cleopatra walked a while in the wood near the shore, till she began to be weary, and to have a desire to sleep, than she lay down under certain trees which made a very delicate shade, my love caused in me a respect to her, which hindered me from interrupting her repose, and out of this consideration leaving her alone with her maid only with her, I withdrew myself some paces off, that I might make no noise to disturb her sleep. She had continued above half an hour in this condition, and I believed she was sound asleep, walked on insensibly and imprudently, till I was so far from her, that the Trees deprived me of her sight; then I began to think upon the fault I had committed, and returned the same way to the place where I had left her, where first I heard some cries, and saw a little after two of my men, which ran after Cleopatra and her Maid, whom I saw amongst the Trees flying before them at a great distance off. The men were armed, and all the hast they could make on foot after persons whom the desire of liberty had winged with extraordinary speed, was not capable of overtaking them. I called those that held my horses upon the shore, and leaping upon the first, whilst one of my men, mounted upon the other, I pursued upon full speed the tract of the Princess, of whom my Men had lost the sight. I road up and down a good pace without sight of her, but at last, in a pleasant thicket, I discovered my fair Fugitive, and by means of the swiftness of my horse, I was quickly with her. I presently dismounted, and having easily stayed her by reason of her weariness in running, I cast myself at her feet, I embraced her knees, and I did all that I possibly could to move her by fair means, and by submission; but I laboured in vain, and beholding me with eyes sparkling with choler; Cruel Man, said she, either give me my death, or leave me at liberty; the persecutions are more cruel to me than death can be, and it is not by the captivity wherein thou retainest me, that thou mayest ever hope to make me change my inclinations.  
At last, losing all hope of gaining her by fair ways, I remounted my horse, and the Man that I brought with me having held her, was about to put her into my arms, whatsoever resistance she could make to hinder him, when my ill fortune brought in a man to her rescue: I know not who he is, but maugre the bad office he rendered me, I hold him for one of the most valiant Men in the world. He killed my Man in my presence, and after a very doubtful combat, wherein he had better luck than I, he put me into the condition wherein you found me, and pulling out of my hands the fair prey, which Fortune had given me for my torment.  
See Tyridates, how all things concur to my misfortune; I was not tormented enough by my just resentments, but love must needs join itself to them, to expose me to more sensible pains, and it must needs be, that my Soul must be inflamed for my cruel Enemies: Cleopatra hath appeared before me, Cleopatra fell into my hands, but from her sight, and from her surprisal, instead of the revenge which thereby I might have taken one way or the other, if the destinies had not been too contrary to me, I have gotten nothing but new subjects of resentment and grief; and instead of one single passion which troubled me, all the passions have possessed my soul to torment it with their extremest violence. Nevertheless, hope hath not yet abandoned me, and seeing I know the Country where Cleopatra is, I expect from the care I shall take to find her again, when my health will permit, to see her again in my power. She is not a person obscure enough to hide herself from my pursuits, and at this moment I have persons in quest of her, who possibly may bring me news of her before night. If she fall again into my power, I shall essay as I have done hitherto, by the most sweet and most submissive ways, to bow this disdainful spirit: and if they prove vain, I shall remember that she is the Sister of Alexander, and the Daughter of Cleopatra; and by this remembrance I shall possibly be free from part of that, which, it may be, I should suffer for another person, before I search my remedies, and endeavour my repose by the means my Fortune hath given me.    

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA: OR, Love's Masterpiece. PART V.  
LIB. III.  
ARGUMENT.  
Tyridates dislikes Artaxus 's intentions, but he continues resolute. Tyridates walking out meets with Marcellus, and brings him to his house, where Marcellus relates his story: He briefly traces the most eminent passages between himself and the Princess Julia. Her inconstancy causes his jealousy, which she heightens by heaping her favours upon Drusus. Cleopatra 's constancy to Coriolanus notwithstanding Augustus his authority. Julia at solemn sacrifice prefers Drusus before Marcellus, which begets a Combat between them, wherein they are both wounded. Augustus reproves Julia 's levity, and commands her to cashier Drusus, which she does, and is reconciled to Marcellus.  
THE King of Armenia left speaking, and Tyridates, who being virtuously inclined, did not hearken unto him without repugnance, and who, neither by the memory of the acquaintance they had had together, nor the obligation he had to his family for the refuge he had some time found there, could vanquish the aversion he had from cruelty and injustice, found not himself capable of flattering him, or approving either his actions passed, or his design for the future. Sir, said he to him, I do not find it strange that the Gods have not hitherto granted to your designs all the success you proposed to yourself; and by the obstacles, which by ways altogether extraordinary they have opposed to the cruel intentions which you had both against Alexander and the Princess Cleopatra, you may take notice of the injustice of them. Neither was Alexander a person worthy to die upon a Scaffold for the crime of another, which possibly he detested as much as you; neither is Cleopatra a Princess against whom the horrid resolutions, wherewith you are armed, can be excused. I do not wonder that you are captivated by her divine beauties, and they are capable, without doubt, of a more extraordinary performance; but I am surprised at this, that they have not absolutely produced in you all that might be expected from their powers, and that they have yet left you some desire of seeking your satisfaction of her otherwise than by love, by submission, and by your services. I will say more to you Sir, that you have not undertaken a slight enterprise, seeing you have resolved either by revenge, or by love, to render yourself Master by force, of the liberty of Cleopatra, and she is not a person so meanly supported in the World, but that you will have the chief powers of the Earth to contend with, Augustus, who without doubt will protect her, comes within a few days to Alexandria, as it hath been reported to you, and with him persons who interess themselves in the Fortune of Cleopatra as in their own, so powerful and considerable, that though you should have brought with you all the forces of Armenia, you could not with any probability expect any good success.  
Artaxus shook his head at this discourse, and expressing to Tyridates by this action, how uncapable he was to make any impression upon his spirit: I was very doubtful, said he, at my first knowing of your inclinations, that I should have scruples in you to contend with, and considering that you are the Brother of a King, who for the least Maxim of State would shed the blood of the whole Universe; I find you very Religious, and circumspect; but however it be, I cannot repent myself of what I would have done in revenge of my Father, and if I had let pass his death without any mark of my resentment, I should believe I did more justly merit the blame which Persons of your humour lay upon some effects of severity; As for what concerns my love, the difficulty which you represent to me is not capable of driving me off from it, and though the whole Universe should join with the authority of Augustus, in undertaking the defence of Cleopatra, I find myself hardy enough, and possibly sufficiently strong to execute part of what I have resolved. If Alexander, being alone and a Prisoner, could carry away my Sister out of my Capital City, I may possibly be able in a condition, very different from his, to render him the same displeasure, and if I do but get Cleopatra into Armenia, I defy those powers wherewith you threaten me, to oppose themselves to my entire satisfaction,  
I am very sorry, replied Tyridates coldly, that you have discovered your intentions to me, and not being able, without offending virtue, and the amity I have promised to those persons of the world that are most interessed in it, to offer you in this occasion, that service which without doubt I should render you in some other: I could wish withal my heart that you had entrusted your secret to any body rather than to me.  
The King of Armenia was troubled at these words, and looking upon Tyridates with an action that expressed some discontent: I thought I had spoken to my friend, said he, when I declared to you the most secret thoughts of my heart, and instead of the discourse you have made me, I did probably expect from you all sort of assistance. You shall receive it without doubt, replied Tyridates, in all the care that may be taken for your health, and the offers which you may expect of a virtuous friend in the retreat you have taken here: But in the designs which you shall have against Cleopatra and her Relations, I shall not be favourable unto you. I shall endeavour, answered the Armenian all nettled, to pass by your assistance, and with aid of the God of Love and Vengeance, whom only I will invoke, I shall possibly perform myself part of what I have resolved, without the help of any but those that belong to me, without being obliged to any person.  
Tyridates being unwilling to displease him in his own house, as he might have done without design, if they had enlarged themselves farther in this conversation, changed his discourse, and after he had represented unto him that by reason of the long narration he had made, he was in a condition that required repose, he took leave of him, and went out of his Chamber. The real amity which in regard of his extraordinary merit he had in so short a time vowed to the King of Mauritania, and the repugnance which he naturally had against bad actions, made him look upon the designs of Artaxus with horror and detestation, and following the motions of his virtue above all other considerations, he made no doubt which part he was to take, but resolved to serve Coriolanus against the intentions of the Armenian, as far as he could without infringing the laws of hospitality, and without exposing a Prince which was retired into his house, and with whom he had some time found refuge, to some displeasure which might be imputed to him. He continued some time alone, uncertain what resolution he should take, whether to contrive the safety of Cleopatra as much as he could possible, without advertising Coriolanus of it, and without letting him know his Enemy, or to declare the truth to that Prince, after he had made him pass his word that Artaxus should not be offended, and that he would content himself to oppose the designs which he might have against his beloved Princess, without doing him any displeasure in his person, in a place wherein he could not receive it; but that Tyridates must be interessed therein: He doubted not, but that the Son of Juba; being the most moderate of Men, would have this consideration for him, and upon this thought he disposed himself at last to conceal nothing from him, and praised the Gods for the occasion which possibly he had found of rendering him one of the most important services that he could receive from his friends.  
Besides the interests of Coriolanus, he thought upon Britomarus, whom he saw under the same roof with Artaxus, of whose resentments against that cruel King, he could not be ignorant, by reason of the relation he had made of the beginnings of his life. The so unexpected encounter of these two men put him in some care, and in regard of the knowledge he had of the fierce and impatient humour of Britomarus, he feared lest he should quarrel with the Armenian, from whom he had some time received a sensible displeasure. In relation to this fear he resolved to conceal from him the knowledge he had of the King of Armenia as much as he could possible, till he had taken order with Coriolanus, for what might happen upon this encounter, not seeing otherwise any necessity of discovering to him things wherein he had no interest.  
After he had employed some time in taking these resolutions, he began to be troubled at the long walk of Coriolanus, though he was not ignorant, by what he experimented every day himself, in what manner a morous thoughts did cause the hours to pass away insensibly in musing and solitude: he saw the greatest part of the day was past, and the Prince had taken very little nourishment.  
Emilius, by reason of his Masters long stay, beginning to fear some accident was befallen him, was gone out to seek him, and Tyridates seeing at length that the night approached without hearing any news of him, went out of the house, and walked towards the Wood He had hardly gone a few furlongs, but he saw coming strait towards him a Cavalier armed at all points except his Casque, which he carried in one of his hands: he went very softly, and with a countenance which expressed either a great sadness, or a profound musing. As he approached, Tyridates who saw his face all uncovered thought he knew him, and when he was near enough to discern all the lineaments of his face, by calling to mind all the Ideas of them, he knew him to be the Prince Marcellus, whom he had seen at Rome, and with whom he had contracted a particular amity. Tyridates was astonished to see Marcellus the darling of the Emperor, and of all the Empire, in such an equipage; and doubting, for that reason, of that which his eyes would persuade him to, he stepped some paces back with an action which sufficiently testified his surprise; afterwards beginning to speak: O Gods, said he, is it possible that I see the Prince, Marcellus? Marcellus who through the preoccupation of his spirit, and the little likelihood there was of meeting Tyridates in that place, and in that condition, had without doubt passed by without knowing of him, stayed himself at his exclamation, and at the name of Marcellus which he heard him pronounce, and Tyridates banished the rest of his incertitude, approached to him and embraced him on horseback as he was: Ah! it is yourself without doubt, continued he, and it is permitted to the unfortunate Tyridates, to see in his solitude one of the persons of the World, whom his virtue hath placed so high in his esteem. By these words, and the action of Tyridates, Marcellus dissipating all his musing, and casting his eyes upon the face of the Prince which embraced him, with whom he had lived familiarly at Rome, and to whom he had given all the respect which was due to his illustrious birth and rare qualities, knew him very readily, and not being willing to receive his caresses with incivility, he leapt from his horse to the ground, and embraced him with a sweetness full of grace and majesty, which was very natural to him: It is certain, said he to him, rendering the civilities he had from him, that you see the unfortunate Marcellus; but my astonishment is no less than yours to meet you alone, and on foot in a place where I never should have imagined to have found you. This is not the first day, replied Tyridates, that you have seen me seek out solitudes, and that you have accused me for avoiding the society of men in a place where I might have had that of the chiefest persons of the World: but for you, whom I have seen, and whom I know to be still the darling, and the hope of Rome, you which pass your life in the greatest pleasures, and in the highest splendour of the Empire, it is very strange to meet you in a condition so different from that wherein all the earth were accustomed to behold you. Marcellus during this discourse kept his eyes fixed upon the ground, and afterwards looking up upon Tyridates with a sigh drawn from the very bottom of his heart. Tyridates, said he to him, the condition of men is uncertain, and our fortune is so subject to revolutions, that very often those who in other men's imagination pass for the most happy, exposed to the greatest misfortunes: Ah Marcellus! replied Tyridates, can it be possible that your fortune should have received any change, and can you by any accident have lost the amity of Augustus? No, answered Marcellus, I have not observed any diminution in the affection of Caesar towards me, it is in a more sensible part that my heart is wounded, and it's the infidelity of the persons whom I loved most that is the cause of my misfortune. You amaze me, replied Tyridates, and afflict me both at once, but I will inquire no further of it in a place wherein your stay is incommodious for you; and I will learn what you please of you concerning it, in an house which is not above an hundred paces hence, wherein I have taken my retreat for some time: it is not worthy of you, and I should make some difficulty to offer it you, if I did not know, that in your discontent you will possibly find there one of the greatest consolations that you can receive.  
At these words Marcellus looking upon Tyridates more attentively than he had done before; I doubt not, said he, but from such company as yours a man may hope for much consolation, and I will accept for this night the retreat you offer me, not so much to ease myself after the great pains I have undergone this day, as to pass some hours of conversation with a Prince, whom I have always well esteemed, and whom I have known exceeding worthy of the esteem of the whole World. Tyridates would not any further explain to Marcellus the consolation which he promised him, and which he hoped would be very great in his meeting with Coriolanus, expecting to surprise him agreeably by the view of that Prince, whom he knew to be as dear to him as himself, but only having modestly defended himself from his obliging discourse, he caused him to take the way to his house, and conducted him into Coriolanus his Chamber, where they met neither the Prince nor his Esquire, who was not returned since he went in the quest of his Master.  
Marcellus was presently disarmed by Tyridates his servants, and at the earnest entreaty of that Prince, having laid himself upon a bed to rest himself a little, the Prince of Parthia left him in this appearance of repose for some moments, which he desired to employ in the care which he took of his illustrious guests. The greatest thing that troubled him at that time was the long stay of Coriolanus, for which he was in very great disquiet: the darkness began already to cover the earth, and he had heard no news either of him or his Esquire, and scarcely doubting any longer but that some accident was befallen him, he had a mind to go in search of him every way, if the fear of alarming Marcellus and of committing an incivility against that Prince, to whom, out of an intention to surprise him with pleasure, he would say nothing of Coriolanus, had not retained him in an impatience which made him suffer very much. Not being able handsomely to quit guests of such importance as his were, he retained no more of his servants than he needs must, and sent all the rest in search of the King of Mauritania. After he had employed an hour in this and other businesses, during which time the inquietudes which he suffered for that Prince, augmented more and more, he returned into the Chamber where he had left Marcellus, whom he found walking by the light of tapers which they had brought him. Almost at the same time they served in supper, and the two Princes having taken a repast together, during which their sadness might easily be perceived by their conversation, they retired themselves into a withdrawing room, where being alone, they began a discourse somewhat more free than before.  
Marcellus had an imperfect knowledge of part of the adventures of Tyridates, and did not wonder to see him in the same humour wherein he had been at Rome during all the stay he made there; but Tyridates comprehended nothing concerning the solitude and sadness of Marcellus, and judging himself familiar enough with him to inquire any thing of him: If the affliction which appears in you, said he to him, did not really redouble mine, I should have retention enough to conceal from you a curiosity which possibly you will disapprove; but seeing I cannot behold you in the grief which you express by divers marks, without interesting myself very much in it, and that the condition wherein I have met you, seems to me very disproportionable to the rest of your life, you will pardon me if I desire of that friendship wherewith you have favoured me at Rome, the cause of such a change: I hope it from your goodness, if you have not some reason to conceal it, and if for any consideration you are obliged so to do, I beseech you likewise with the same freedom not to content a curiosity which desires not to be satisfied with the least of your displeasures. I would, replied Marcellus, you would desire something of me, whereby I might better testify the confidence I have in you, than by the relation of those things which have appeared too publicly to be concealed, and you should see, Tyridates, by that better than by what you desire, how much I am sensible of the affection of a Prince of your birth and virtue: but expecting an opportunity of acknowledging it by some more important effect of mine, I will inform you of that which you desire to know of me, and will discover unto you the cause of my griefs, together with the infidelity of those persons whom I have most dearly loved, and whom I cannot yet hate, as perfidious as they are, what violence soever I have endeavoured to offer to my inclinations upon that account. You may possibly, answered Tyridates, have found infidelity in some person whom you have loved: but amongst those which have been the dearest to you, the King of Mauritania, who without doubt hath held one of the most eminent ranks in your friendship, hath preserved his to you so inviolably, that all humane considerations would not be capable to alter it in the least. Ah Tyridates! cried Marcellus, how are you abused? 'Tis Coriolanus, only Coriolanus who hath deceived me, and I find in the other person of whom I complain, so much the less deceit than in Coriolanus, because I less confided in her, and though I was prepossessed with a passion for her, which always blinded me, yet from the first proofs of her inconstancy I had cause to disoblige myself from her eternally. On the other side, Coriolanus (let me say so much in reproach of that ungrateful man) had so great obligations to me, that I cannot comprehend how by base considerations they could be so easily defaced out of the mind of a Prince, or of a man born only of a noble blood.  
Tyridates could not forbear interrupting Marcellus with precipitation: Marcellus, said he to him, You make me a discourse wherein I can comprehend nothing, and I will engage my life, and any thing yet more precious, for the innocence of Coriolanus. He hath without doubt been treacherously traduced to you, rather than you betrayed by him; and beside the knowledge I have received not long since of his admirable virtue, by what I know of the particularites of his life, I am very certain not only that he hath not forgotten your good offices; but that in all his affairs, he hath conserved his friendship so entirely yours, that he hath been more faithful to Cleopatra than to yourself. You speak truth now, replied Marcellus, and I know well that Coriolanus, whose justification you undertake upon an imperfect knowledge, hath been no more faithful to his Mistress, than to his friend, I do not wonder that the complaint I have made You of him hath surprised you, after what hath been evident to all the Romans concerning our friendship: but when I shall have related to You that which you desire to know concerning my life, you will without doubt abandon the part of this ungrateful man, and confess with me that all the complaints I can make of him are inferior to his perfidiousness.  
Tyridates was full of confusion and astonishment at this discourse, and because of the change he understood, changing the design he had for the interview of these two Princes, before he engaged himself in Marcellus his Relation, he called one of his Men, and gave him order, that if Coriolanus did return, he should come and give him notice of it before he entered into the Chamber. After this precaution, which he judged necessary by reason of the things he had heard, he placed himself again by Marcellus, who without any further entreaty began his discourse thus.  

The History of MARCELLUS and JULIA.  
BEfore I come to the relation of the injury which I have received from the ungrateful Prince, whom you defend, it is necessary that I recount to you some other things that precede it, and which make up, without doubt, a great part of my displeasures. You know since I was engaged in the service of the Princess Julia, the intention the Emperor hath always had to allay me to him by the Marriage of his Daughter, nearer than I am by Birth; and you have, without doubt, heard some discourse at Rome, during the stay you made there of the violence, which in favour of Coriolanus, I offered to my former inclinations, which had given me to Cleopatra. I know, interrupted Tyridates, a great deal more; I am not ignorant of any thing touching the beginnings of your life, your love to Cleopatra, the generous effects of your friendship towards Coriolanus, all the good offices you have rendered him since in the whole course of his love, and the business which his passion caused him. I have understood the displeasures you resented for the testimonies of affection which Julia bestowed upon Coriolanus, your reconciliation with that Princess, and in fine, all the things wherein you could have any interest, till the time that Coriolanus parted from Rome to pass into Africa to recover his Kingdom. I know not, replied Marcellus, of whom you could learn all this; but by this knowledge which you have of the first adventures of my life, I shall be much eased in the discourse which I have to make unto you, and I shall truly recount unto you the latter, though I cannot call them to mind without displeasure, nor speak of them without confusion.  
Heaven, without doubt, beheld me with an angry aspect, when it destined me to the service of Julia; and to the reasons which I have to hate Coriolanus, I ought to add this, that for the love of him only, and not out of the respect I owe to the will of Caesar, I engaged myself in a servitude which makes up all the misfortunes of my life. It is not but that Julia, as you know, is of such a composure, that if inconstancy and artifice did not spoil what there is in her of good and amiable, the most accomplished person of the world might find uncommon felicities in the testimonies of her affection. Her beauty (as you can witness) hardly gives precedency to the supremest beauties of the Earth, and her spirit is endued with charms, against which it is difficult to defend one's self, when she will employ them with their powers entire. A taking sweetness, and an attractive grace accompany all her actions, and all her discourses; and with her looks, when she pleaseth to join to what she hath received from nature, that which Art hath taught her for their conduct, she goes to the bottom of an heart to search out those places which are most fortified against the Empire that she will establish. Her humour is the most pleasant, the most agreeable, and the fullest of divertisement in the world, if her mind be not troubled with some passion; and she hath naturally an eloquence so facile and so fluent, that there are few persons which can express their conceptions in better terms, and with more facility; briefly, she is entirely such, that it is impossible to defend herself from her snares, when she ●ays them with design, and I have experimented it but too much for my repose, which she hath so often troubled, and now utterly ruined by the last effects of her inconstancy.  
I will not speak to you, seeing you know it already, of the displeasures she made me sensible of by the testimonies of her affection to Coriolanus. After the departure of this Prince to the Wars of the Asturians, we reconciled ourselves, and though I could not give absolute credit to the things which Julia alleged to me for her justification, yet my inclinations spoke for her, and did so combat with the appearances to deceive, that at last I persuaded myself to part of that which she desired, and believed possibly against reason that I was really beloved by her. I passed some time in those sweets which she can make one taste, when she hath the intentions to do it, but it was not without being very often crossed with displeasures which partly counterbalanced them; and though naturally I am not jealous, if my jealousy hath not a very rational foundation, this Princess gave me so often occasion to fall into that importunate passion, that except I had been blind and insensible, I could not pass my life in tranquillity.  
The Court of Augustus was composed of a great number of young Princes, (you were of the number at that time, and you departed thence, as I think, a few days before the Son of Juba returned from the Asturians) and besides the most eminent amongst the Romans, born of those illustrious Families, who with so much valour have endeavoured to advance the grandeur of the Empire; divers Sons of Kings, and divers Kings themselves, either tributaries or Allies of Rome, made their abode there with Augustus. There were those who were rarely accomplished, both amongst the Romans and amongst the strangers, and amongst them it was that Julia found matter for her inconstancy. Because of the rank she held, and the knowledge they had of the design of Augustus in my favour, few persons durst express their particular designs, and those which by her beauty, and by the rest of her charms she had rendered really her slaves, contented themselves to render her such submissive devoirs, that they hardly differed from adoration: but this Princess being clear sighted in all things, and particularly in those which served to the expression of amorous resentments, easily discerned them through the veil of respect and submission; and whereas another person born with a courage proportionable to her birth, would have received this knowledge with anger and disdain, Julia being of a quite contrary humour, liked well of all those whom she could only suspect of some motion of affection, she received them with an obliging countenance, she favoured them in divers occurrences more than they could have hoped, and giving them all manner of occasions to persevere in the resentments they had for her, she carefully avoided all those that might give them any repulse.  
Oftentimes she concealed herself from me in what might afflict me; but sometimes she could not so well disguise herself, but that I took notice of some part of the truth: when I made my complaints to her of it; sometimes she took the pains to comfort me, and give me satisfaction, and sometimes serving herself of the Empire she had over me, she sharply reprehended the authority I seemed to take over her actions, and reduced me into a condition of disavowing all my complaints, and of ask pardon of her for the liberty my passion made me take.  
I speak unto you of these passages very succinctly, because I believe they are the same that have been related to you, and that in these occurrences there happened no memorable event: but I will more enlarge myself upon those which you are ignorant of, and wherein more important things befell me.  
I lived in this fashion both during Coriolanus his stay in the Asturias, and that he made at Rome, before his departure into Africa: but for the latter time, he knows well himself, as ungrateful and forgetful as he is of it, that I spent it entirely in his interests; and that I was so employed in his quarrels both with Tiberius and Caesar himself, that I could hardly bestow a moment upon my own affairs. Certain it is, that during all that trouble I had hardly any thought but for his repose, wherein I interessed all the persons with whom I could have any credit, and for whom I often put myself in danger of drawing upon me the disgrace and choler of Augustus.  
Coriolanus after he had extremely wounded Tiberius, departed from Rome, as you have heard, and I stayed there with a very sensible regret for his absence, and the bad condition of his affairs. I will not tell you all that I acted with Caesar to appease him, all the quarrels I had with Tiberius his party, and with the Empress herself, who would have armed Heaven and Earth to revenge her Son; and I will only relate unto you the progress of my love with Julia, and the last accidents whereby you see me reduced into the condition wherein you met me. Whatsoever displeasure I received by these effects of the inconstant humour of Julia, whereof I have briefly spoken, and by the good usage she showed to those persons whom she observed to bear her affection, I found some consolation in the belief I had, that as kind, and as sweet as she was to others, she was yet more affectionate to me, and m●●gre the motions of a wavering spirit, which she could not retain, she would return to me entirely, preferring me before all those who could have any thought for her. This was that which made me support all things with patience, and without doubt, I shall have done so still for divers considerations, if by the sequel of her actions I had not lost part of that opinion, and had not seen myself exposed to greater displeasures than all those I had resented.  
Amongst those who concurred to trouble my repose, Caius Drusus, the Son of Livia, and Brother of Tiberius, was he who crossed me more than I could be by any person, who could counter balance my credit both in Rome, and in the mind of Caesar, but the Son of the Empress, who had power enough over the spirit of her Husband, to restrain in part the advantageous inclinations he had toward me: and I believe also (though the charms of Julia were great enough to obtain more difficult conquests) that it was at the solicitation of Livia that Drusus embarked himself in the love of Julia. This ambitious Mother desiring to confer upon her own Children, that which in the judgement of all the Romans, Augustus destined for me, and by all ways to conserve to herself the authority she had acquired, had done before all that was possible for her to engage Tiberius in the search of Caesar's Daughter, but not being able by all her endeavours, to disentagle him from the love he bore to Cleopatra, she had turned her thoughts to Drusus, who was younger than his Brother only by one year, and had represented unto him with success, that by the Marriage of Julia he might pretend to the Empire, and frustate the hopes of Marcellus, who had the greatest pretences to it. Drusus being of an age, and in a condition to receive such impressions, made no resistance to his Mother's will, and though in the possession of Julia he had not taken notice of the advantages which were found in Caesar's Daughter, she was amiable enough of her person only, to possess him really with love without any other interest, and it was without pain that he disposed his inclinations to it.  
What resentment soever the concurrence of Drusus may have given me against him, I must always confess that he possesses all manner of great qualities; he is complete in body and mind; and not yielding to Tiberius in valour and greatness of courage, he surpasses him without doubt in freedom, in sweetness, and all manner of dispositions to virtue. I will say no more to you of him, you have seen him, and been acquainted with him, and without doubt you have heard at Rome, that in the War of Dalmatia, whither he went with his brother without any command, and in divers other expeditions, where when he was hardly passed his infancy, he bore arms, he had already acquired a very great reputation, and given marvellous hopes of his valour and prudence. The knowledge whereof having puffed up his courage, he believed he might dispute Julia with me, although the Emperor had destined her for me, and that by a long acquaintance I ought to have gained her affections already: and grounding part of his hope upon the judgement he might have made of her inconstancy, he made no doubt to engage himself in her service. However he was not afraid to disoblige me after the declaration I had made against all his relations in favour of Coriolanus, and in all the quarrels which that Prince had with Tiberius, having embraced his interests as mine own, no one ought to think it strange if all the house of Livia bore me but a little affection, and that my consideration, which possibly would have produced that effect in another, did not impede the Brother of Tiberius in a design of that importance; yet knowing that the intentions of the Emperor were wholly declared for me, he durst not oppose them openly, and he endeavoured with secrecy and discretion to gain the affections of Julia, waiting opportunities to make his design known, when by the conduct and authority of Livia he should set himself in a condition to discover it. Being of so high a rank as he was, he had the liberty to see the Princess every day, and all persons of his condition did so frequently render her their visits, that I could not make strange of his. Being interessed, and having a distrust of the mind of Julia, I suspected him as well as divers others, and made very frequent complaints of him to the Princess, as I did of other persons, to whom, according to my opinion, she was too good; but for a long time I had no particular suspicion of him: at least I did not believe a great while that he was more gracious with Julia than the other Princes who visited her, and I had possibly continued some years in this belief, if I had not been presented with an occasion to lose it when I least expected.  
I was one day with the Princess, and I had spent an hour in conversation with her, without any company but two or three of her Maids, which were at the other end of her Closet, when she rising from me to go to a window which looked into the Court, a Letter fell under her garments at my feet without her perceiving of it: I took it up presently, with an intention to give it her, but at the same instant, the suspicion, which for some while before seldom quitted me, made me change my thought, and seeing that the Princess looking into the Court through the glass, had her back turned towards me, I had a mind to take this time to satisfy my curiosity in part, and without further consulting with the respect I owed to Julia, opening the paper with an hand which by its trembling discovered to me part of the truth, I began to read these words.  
To the Princess JULIA.  
I Shall conceal without regret my passion from all the World, since it is your will that it should not be known but only to yourself, and though I could not without some constraint render this difference to the Fortune of another, yet through that I owe to your command, all things are easy: my heart which declares itself to you, more perfectly than my mouth could do, hath not the same expressions for other persons, and you alone, with facility may behold the secret of a soul which you entirely possess: It is Fortune enough for me that you permit my love without repugnance, and I hope from time and your goodness dispositions more entire.  
I had not time to make an end of reading this Letter, and I was about this part of it, when Julia turning towards me surprised me in this employment, What do you read Marcellus? said she to me. But I was so surprised and astonished at this cruel testimony of my misfortune, that she asked me this question twice before I was in a condition to shape her an answer: I would know, continued she, what it is you read with so much attention; and with these words she came nearer to me. I folded up the Letter with a design to make an end of reading it; but I could not give her any answer but by looks inflamed with a just indignation, and by the alterations of my countenance, which sufficiently discovered to her the troubles of my mind. Nevertheless she persisted in her curiosity, and after she had pressed me divers times to show her the paper which I had hid: Madam, said I to her at last, making a strong attempt to dissemble some part of my grief, it is a thing of so little importance, that it is not worth the pains you take to inform yourself of it. I spoke these words with so sad a countenance, that she was in some sort troubled at it, and marking how I was changed within a few moments, if she had not divined the real cause, she imagined at least that it was some great matter which caused this alteration. I do not like it, replied she, that You should keep any thing secret from me, and if You do any longer resist the desire I have to see that which You conceal from me, you will raise suspicions in me, wherein possibly neither you nor I shall find our satisfaction.  
I could no longer contain the despite which tormented me, and presenting her the fatal paper wherein the marks of her inconstancy were so deep engraven: Yes Madam, said I to her, you shall see it, and it is just that I should render that to You which is Your own, and to which I no way pretend. Behold, continued I, whilst she received her Letter with much confusion, behold the dear marks of my Fortune which I remit into Your hands, and the fair effects of that firm affection which You have promised to Marcellus, and whereupon the abused Marcellus had established all his glory, and all the Felicity of his Life.  
Julia was in such a confusion, that whatsoever assurance she naturally had, for a long time she was not in a condition to reply, and I was so transported, that fearing to transgress the bounds of the respect I owed her, if I pursued my resentment in my discourse, I kept silence with a constancy wherein my violent passion was genuinely represented. Julia who hath a spirit of another temper than mine, did much sooner compose herself than I, and beholding me with eyes of expressing some choler and disdain: I take it ill, said she to me, that you take the liberty to read my Letters without my permission: all the interest you take in them cannot acquit You of the respect you owe me, and if you yourself have not found in your discretion part of the punishment which you deserve, I shall make you sensible of my resentments in such a manner as shall make you learn to be more reserved with me.  
I was too well fortified by my conscience, and by the justice of what I could reproach Julia with, to fear her choler, as I should have done upon another occasion wherein she had been more reasonable; and beholding her with a visage, which ordinarily shows the difference between those which are innocent, and those that are culpable: I owe you, replied I, much more respect than love, and if nothing can dispense with my respect, my love finds in the cruel cheats you have put upon me, reasons great enough to withdraw itself from you for ever. I shall do what I can possible not to trouble his felicity any more, who acknowledgeth himself so reduable to your goodness, and what glory soever I find in serving you, I should be the basest of men, if I did not endeavour to recover out of your power, an heart so ungrateful and unworthily abandoned. You will do me a pleasure, briskly answered Julia, and I suffer too much by your humour, to be sorry for the loss of a thing which makes me subject to tyranny. Ah! Madam, replied I, you have no cause to complain, and whatsoever usage I have received from you, I should be very sorry that you could reproach me with an action wherein I have not, together with Princess Julia, to whom I have given my soul, considered the Daughter of Caesar, to whom I owe all. If I have committed any fault of this nature, the Gods are my witnesses that it is neither in my knowledge, nor according to my intention, and to hinder me from falling into it, though I cannot give you an exact account of my abilities, I will do whatsoever I can possible to give you the satisfaction you desire. Having spoken these words, I went from her, and departed out of her Chamber in the saddest condition that ever I was in my life.  
In effect this visible proof of her inconstancy did so nettle me, that I could hardly be more moved by the most cruel accidents that could happen to me, and when I was retired into a place where I might digest my adventure, I found in it so much cause of grief, that I could hardly receive any consolation. Ah! said I, I should be a mere sool; I should be blinder than ever yet I have been, if I could any longer be ignorant of the infidelity of Julia; and the tricks she hath put upon me heretofore, now appear in their true shape. Her love to Coriolanus, which she would have pass but for a fiction, was but too real, and if that Prince had not disdained the affections of this unfaithful creature, neither the memory of all my services, nor the authority of Caesar had been capable of conserving Julia for me. The demonstrations of amity she hath since made to so many persons, and which she would artificially make to pass with me for effects of civility and gallantry, are the real effects of her lightness; and if my passion had left me any remainder of common sense only, I could not have been mistaken: Return then to thyself, Marcellus, out of this profound senslessness which hath unmanned thee, remember thyself that thou art not born to be despised, and that thou art fit for something better, and more great, than to be the eternal object of the inconstancies of Julia. The interest which may join with her beauty, to fix thee to her service, is not capable to engage a noble soul; and though in not being the Son-in-law of Caesar, thou wilt lose the hopes he hath given thee, thou art born in a dignity sufficiently eminent, and thou mayst possibly mount up to a very sublime degree, if thou dost not degenerate from the virtue of thy Ancestors, nor disgrace the beginnings of thy life. Abandon then this ungrateful creature, which abandons thee every day by a lightness without example; and consider that this base sufference, to which she hath subjected thee by her artifices, is unworthy of thy courage. All those for whom she now withdraws from thee the affections she had given thee, are, it may be, both by birth and quality of person, inferior to thee, and by the preference she gives them above thee, she possibly wrongs herself as much as she can offend thee, leave her then in this condition, wherein, without doubt, she will quickly find cause to repent: and though after some reflection, which will make her come to herself again, she would recall thee by her ordinary artifices; confirm thyself in thy just resentments, and let her know, that thou canst live without her, seeing she cannot live for thee alone.  
These were the resolutions to which my just resentments carried me, but I was a little too weak to put them in execution, and this inconstant Princess to my misfortune, had gotten such a Dominion over my spirit, that it was impossible for me to dis engage myself. My grief quickly made itself be taken notice of by those persons with whom I was most familiar, and though I could not entirely conceal it from the Princess Octavia my Mother, nor from my Sisters, she to whom I did most confidently discover it, was the Princess Cleopatra. I found in her likewise more consolation than in all the rest, and though there remained no more of the passion which I had once for her, than thoughts conformable to those I had for my Sisters, I found in her so much sweetness of spirit, so much freedom, and greatness of courage, that there was no person in the World to whom I should have opened my heart with more confidence: Upon the first complaints I made to her concerning this last displeasure I had received from Julia: Brother, said she to me, (for it was Octavia's will that we should always use this name between us) I heartily participate in your just resentments, and if Julia had confidence enough in me to regulate her actions by my counsel, I would take an order for the future that you should see yourself no more subject to the displeasures which she hath made you sensible of. This is not the first time that I have taken notice of the lightness of her mind, and have foreseen with grief, part of that which is befallen you; but if you believe me, and if it be possible for you, you will not excessively afflict yourself: part of this volatile humour of Julia will be dissipated by a little more maturity in years; and though out of love and complacence to herself, she permits divers persons to give her testimonies of their affections, yet I make no doubt but that she doth not only prefer you before all others, but that all her real affection is yours. Ah Sister! answered I, though what you say were true, my condition would not be a jot the better: I care not for a partial heart, and seeing I gave mine entirely to Julia, and that she had once given hers in the same manner, she cannot give any part of it to any person, without depriving me of that which justly belongs to me. Cleopatra said all she could in justification of Julia, but more to quiet my mind, than to excuse a lightness which she could not approve.  
In the mean while I continued divers days without rendering any visits to Julia, and without being present at any of the places which she was accustomed to frequent: and during that time, I did all I possibly could to learn who this new Rival was, which had so readily found a place in her affections. I stayed some days without being able to know the truth; but at last having addressed myself to Phebe, one of her Maids, who was most acquainted with her secrets, whom I had gained by the presents I made her, after she had suffered herself to be pressed a great while for fear of her Mistress' anger, and made me promise that I should not discover it, she told me it was Drusus, from whom Julia had received that letter and divers others, and that if any person had any part of her amity, it was Drusus above all others.  
Upon this discovery I was inflamed with choler against this Rival, and bearing already no great affection to his house, for the reasons that I have allegded unto you, I was upon the point of making my resentment appear without any further delay: but I judged I could not do it without disobliging and mortally offending Julia, by discovering things to her prejudice, which as yet were secret, and I had regard enough to the interests of that ingrateful Princess, to retain myself for her sake. But the violence I did myself in not seeing her, quickly produced another effect, which was noted by all the persons that did observe me; and Julia herself, whom I could not avoid in those places, where of necessity I must meet her, having taken notice as well as others, of the change which my sadness had wrought in my countenance, whereof she knew the cause, was possibly touched with some remorse: and as affections do not imprint themselves in her spirit, but that she hath liberty enough left; so that which she had conceived for Drusus was not strong enough to oblige her to be willing to be totally quit of me, and to hinder the design of re engaging me. In fine, whether it were out of a real motion of affection and repentance, or out of a fear of displeasing Caesar; whereupon the Princess Scribonia, her Mother every day read her lectures, she left looking ill upon me, as she had done in divers meetings, since the last conversation we had had, and by an obliging carriage, and looks full of sweetness, she endeavoured to make me stoop to her lure. I could not resist those efforts without laying a cruel constraint upon myself, but my resentment had ground enough to make me suffer any thing, before it could be dissipated; and I had already so little confidence in Julia's caresses, that I could not look upon them but as the effects of artifice, rather than a real resentment.  
After I had avoided divers times the occasion of speaking to her before the Emperor, I was one day at her passage through a Gallery, which leads from hers to the Empress' lodgings, and as I would have passed by her, making a profound reverence, without staying, she stepped before me, and having taken me by the arm: You do ill, said she, to fly as you do from persons, which possibly love you better than they are obliged to do: I should do ill indeed, answered I very coldly, if I should fly from them that love me; but besides that, I shall hardly have that belief concerning you, I only avoid the occasions of displeasing you, and endeavour, as much as is possible for me, to give you that satisfaction that you have desired of me: If I were as choleric as you, replied Julia, I should possibly desire it more than you believe, and if my inclination did not transcend my resentments, I should willingly leave you in an humour, wherein it may be you find some pleasure; but because I cannot render you that injustice, without suffering very much myself by it, I forget in part what I owe to myself, to make you remember what we mutually owe to each other: Madam, replied I, I owe you all manner of respect and submission, and that way certainly I shall very exactly acquit myself towards you all my life: I do not believe you can require any more of me, if you do not believe you are speaking to Drusus, who, without doubt, owes you his heart and life in recompense of your affections.  
The Princess was troubled at this reproach, as I knew by the change of her countenance, and yet readily composing herself: You do all you can, said she, to incense me against you, but I pardon your passion, and if you had continued yourself within more reasonable bounds, I should already have cured your mind of suspicion, which you have conceived upon very light appearances. My suspicions, replied I, are become certainty, and I cannot desire any farther clearing up of those things, which to my misfortune, are but too evident. I have not been able, without doubt, to behold the fortune of Drusus without a mortal grief, but I should envy him much more, if I did not know that it is very ill assured, and that some other will quickly make him lose what he bathe gained from me, rather by his good fortune than by his merit and services.  
When I reproached the Princess with the lightness of her spirit, she fell into a violent choler, and beholding me with an eye which sufficiently expressed her indignation: You shall know, said she, that the fortune of Drusus is not so ill-assured as you believe, and to give you other impressions of my spirit, I will put it into such a condition, that you shall have much ado to shake it. Ending these words, she quitted me with so many appearances of choler, that if I had not been more moved at her inconstancy, than I could be at her anger, I should have retired from this encounter with a displeasure which would have left me but little quiet. She began thence forward to put her threatenings in execution; and whether it were to do me a spite, or to follow her own inclinations, she carried herself so towards Drusus, that few persons doubted, but that he had a great share in her affections. He visited her punctually every day, and she no longer fearing to make me jealous, which had obliged her before to lay some constraint upon herself, caressed and favoured him so openly, that all the persons who had any interest in the conduct of her life, began highly to disapprove her proceedings.  
Whilst these things passed (for I am obliged to speak to you in my relation concerning the affairs of Coriolanus and Cleopatra, as I believe it hath not been easy for those who have recounted the life of those two persons unto you, to acquaint you with all events, without intermingling something concerning my fortune) the news came to Rome of the rising of Mauritania, of the defeat of the first Troops, and the first proceedings of Coriolanus for the recovery of his Kingdom. This report at first surprised the spirit of Caesar, and inflamed him with a new choler against the Son of Juba, against whom he was sufficiently animated by the wounding of Tiberius, and the continual solicitations of Livia; but a little after he freed himself a little of the trouble that this news had brought him, and though he could not undervalue the person of Coriolanus, whom he knew by the great things he had done for his service, to be capable of undertaking and executing all things, yet he little feared his forces, and he believed that those he had in Africa, under the command of Volusius, were capable of restoring the Country to its former tranquillity.  
In the mean time the enemies of Coriolanus did not lose this occasion quite, to cry him down with Augustus; and Livia, as one interessed, forgot nothing which might exasperate the Emperor's mind to the most extreme resolutions against him. About this time Tiberius, after that his life was despaired of divers times, and he had lain divers months in danger, at last was cured of his great wound, and to the great contentment of his friends, he saw himself in a condition to cross his Rival more than ever. This was the renewing of Cleopatra's sorrows, and that Princess saw herself exposed afresh to the persecution, which had slept ever since the wounding of Tiberius. She recommended to me her own and my friends interests, and found me intended to make them always my own. I was surprised more than all the rest at the first report which arrived at the rising of the Moors, and I thought it a little strange that Coriolanus, who in the whole course of his life had reserved nothing from me, should conceal this design so carefully that I never had the least suspicion of it; but the Princess Cleopatra made me such excuses as she believed to be due to our friendship, and assured me that Coriolanus would not have concealed his intention from me, but only out of the respect he bore me, fearing either to render me his enemy, if I took part with Caesar, or to render me odious to Caesar, if after the knowledge of a design against his service, I should still continue a friend to Coriolanus. Cleopatra performed the request which Coriolanus had made to her with so good a grace, and alleged such specious reasons to justify the secrecy of Coriolanus, that in stead of taking it ill at his hands, I believed I was obliged to him for it: and not being at that time prepossessed with any suspicion of his infidelity, I believed easily that I ought to impute his reservedness towards me only to his discretion.  
Cleopatra can testify too, to render him the more criminal and odious, in what manner I received the news of his good success, if the interests of Caesar, to which I am inseparably bound up, could remove me one moment from what I owed to our amity, and it I have not an hundred times for the interest of Coriolanus, put myself in danger of changing the affection of Augustus into violent resentments against me. It is true, I was not in a condition to take his part so highly as I have done before, and after he had been publicly declared an Enemy to Caesar, and the Roman Empire, except I would declare myself so too, I could not defend him so openly in those things which went directly against Caesar, as long as he was in arms against him, and did every day cut in pieces the Roman Troops. But in those things which were more essential to him, and more important to his repose, namely, the preserving of Cleopatra for him against the pretensions of Tiberius, I persevered so entirely, that certainly I could not have acted for myself with more ardency and affection. By Tiberius his cure, she saw herself exposed to those displeasures, from which she had had some breathing while; and besides the effect of the pressing solicitations of Livia, Caesar knew well enough that he could take no revenge upon Coriolanus, which would be more sensible to him, than to give Cleopatra to his Rival. He caused her to be spoken to of it, and he spoke to her of it himself in such absolute terms, that the Princess saw herself reduced to the greatest extremity that ever she was in in her life: Oh how detestable is the ingratitude of Coriolanus, after those things which I have seen with my eyes! and how happy was that unfaithful Prince in the perseverance of the most beautiful person of the world! She resisted without wavering, all the pretensions of Tiberius his party, and when they had attempted all other ways, Caesar declared himself to her, that if after so many entreaties which he had made her to that purpose, she would not by fair means espouse Tiberius, he was resolved to constrain her to it by all his authority; this courageous Princess looking upon him with an assurance not only above her sex and age, but with a boldness equal to that of the Porcias', the Lucreces, and the Cato's: I do not think Caesar, said she to him, that after thou hast affected in thy government the reputation of a just and moderate Prince, rather than of an Usurper and a Tyrant, thou wouldst renew at Rome the violence of the Tarquins, and begin first with the Daughter of Anthony, who was thy equal and companion in the Empire; but if this be thy intention, I will spare thee the shame and reproach which this action may bring upon thee: and as she, whose name I bear, and from whom I have received my birth, died to avoid the shame which thou prepared'st for her, so I shall know how to die too, to avoid the constraint wherewith thou threatenest me.  
Cleopatra uttered these words with an action so handsome, so noble, and so hardy, and Caesar found in them something so great and penetrative into the most sensible parts of his soul, that he was moved, ashamed, and confounded at them, and being retired without replying one word to the Princess, he protested the same to Livia, that he would content himself to uphold her Son as much as he could; but whatsoever entreaty or consideration might oblige him to it, he would never offer any violence to Cleopatra. He did not only make this declaration to Livia, but on the morrow he told Agrippa and Maecenas, that together with reproaches which had pierced his heart, he had received from a Maid such instructions how to reign, that he should be obliged to her for them as long as he lived; he continued divers days much nettled and troubled, and without scarce seeing the persons who would have caused him to lay constraint upon the Daughter of Anthony.  
This accident is remarkable, and the greatness of Caesar's courage, certainly produced in this rancounter, an effect worthy of his actions. Livia remained much afflicted, and full of confusion, and Tiberius was no less a few days after, when with a like resolution to that which she had showed before Caesar, Cleopatra protested to him, that if he did obstinately seek to espouse her, by any other ways than by his services, she would infallibly destroy herself, and that he ought to be very certain, that the very day of her Marriage should be the day of her Funeral. By this courageous resolution, in favour of Coriolanus, Cleopatra recovered the liberty which they had deprived her of, upon the point, that it was most desperate, and I saw this unexpected change, with a joy as great as was the confusion of Tiberius. He almost died with the grief he took at it, and whether it were that he had no hope to make Caesar change his resolution, or whether he himself feared the effect of Cleopatra's threatenings, and would not expose himself to the danger of seeing her execute them; but he used no more any authority to acquire her, and employed only submissions and testimonies of his love.  
The affairs of Coriolanus were in this condition at Rome, when the repose of my mind was ruined there, by the ingratitude and inconstancy of Julia. This Princess, as I told you, either to vex me with jealousy, or to pursue her real inclinations, made no difficulty of bestowing public testimonies of affection upon Drusus; and she having a spirit which is not troubled with the report and opinion of the vulgar, carried herself so, that scarcely any person at Rome made any doubt but that Drusus possessed that place in Julia's heart which was destined for me, and which sometime I enjoyed. At first I endeavoured to receive this change with indifferency, and to let Julia know that I did not envy Drusus his Fortune: and to that end I forced myself to put the best face upon it I possibly could before her, and to appear as little moved at her inconstancy as if I had not been concerned in it: but I could not long lay this constraint upon myself, and though I was incensed, I was still a lover and a very passionate one too. To my misfortune all my resolution proved vain against a power to which I had too much submitted myself, and in spite of my heart I could not behold the advantages of Drusus without being heartily sensible of them.  
The violent grief I conceived thereupon, quickly made itself remarkable: and not only the Princess Octavia, my Sisters, and my most familiar Friends perceived it, but the Emperor, who took more interest in me than I deserved, took notice of it with regret, and pressed me every day to acquaint him with the real cause of it. In discovering it to him I had an assured means to satisfy myself upon Julia and Drusus, in ruining the pretensions of my rival, and declaring the Daughter's infidelity to a Father who would not have approved of it. I and all the Romans knew that the intentions of Caesar were entirely for me, and though Drusus were Son to the Empress, he could not hope to do me any prejudice, but I would not make use of this advantage in a case wherein I thought I could not do it without baseness: and seeing that by the merit of my person I could not conserve the affections of this volatile Princess, I would not employ the authority of a Father for a thing which seemed due to my personmy love and services, I alleged to Caesar sometimes the indisposition of body, and at other times other causes of sadness: and I was not only unwilling that he should learn the truth from my mouth; but when I saw Octavia, my Mother and his Sister (who was interessed in my afflictions as much as a good Mother could be) in a resolution to discover that to him which I kept concealed, and to make complaint to him of his Daughter with a great deal of resentment: after I had in vain requested her not to render me that displeasure, I protested to her that if she would not condescend to his desire, I would be gone from Rome, so far from her that possibly in divers years she should have no news of me; the fear of it restrained her against her design; but she sharply blamed me for my vain considerations, and could not forbear upon divers occasions to testify her particular resentment to Julia: but if Octavia were ill satisfied with her, the Empress in revenge had all the cause that might be to be contented; and seeing her designs proceed with all the success she could wish, she made so many demonstrations of amity to Julia, that if she had been her own Daughter she could not have received more.  
All these things stung me at last in a part where I was very sensible: and according to my judgement my honour finding itself interessed, was more impatient than my love. I could not endure that it should be believed that I had quitted a place to Drusus which I had first possessed, and which by all reason was more due to me than to him; and when I sought means to make my resentments appear without injuring the consideration which was due to Caesar in the person of his Daughter, she gave me so great occasions, that I thought it impossible any longer without baseness. In all the assemblies, and all the public spectacles that the Emperor often exhibited to the people, Drusus was always with her: and if at any time by coming late he was distant from her, she called him in my very presence, and made him take the nearest place to her he could possible.  
There is a sacrifice yearly offered in the Capitol, the same day that the City was delivered from the Gauls, wherein amongst other Ceremonies, one of the principal Roman Ladies, elected for that action by the voices of the people, goes to make an offering to Jupiter of some gifts of acknowledgement in behalf of the Commonwealth, and causes herself to be conducted to the Altar by one of the chiefest Romans, and ordinarily by one of her nearest Relations, whom she most esteems. This year Julia was entreated to perform this office; and the Emperor, as it is ordinary, with the Empress, all the Senate and the whole Court was present at the Capitol, and assisted at the Sacrifice. When it was time that Julia should approach to the Altar, all the company cast their eyes upon me, as the man who infallibly should accompany her; and what misunderstanding soever was between us, the Emperors will being publicly known, I did not believe she durst call any other than myself; yet knowing it depended upon her choice, and distrusting her humour, I did not present myself as I should have done at another time, but the Emperor himself made a sign to me to advance: I rose from my place to obey him, and approached to Julia: but she saved me the labour, and when I was near enough to give her my hand, she turned herself another way, and called Drusus to come, and render her that office.  
The greatest part of the persons that were in the Temple interessed themselves in the affront which I received: and if Livia, Tiberius, and those of their party were satisfied in it: not only Octavia and they that took my part, but Augustus himself was so troubled at it, that had it not been out of respect to the sacredness of the place, he had publicly made his displeasure appear. For my part I was so much moved at it, that I was quite out of countenance, and not daring for divers considerations to express in public my resentment to the Daughter of Caesar, I retired to my place full of choler and confusion, and a little after not being able to stay any longer in a place wherein I had received this affront, I slipped into the press and got out of the Temple, without staying till the end of the Sacrifice.  
When I was come to my lodging, I quitted myself of those who had taken the pains to accompany me thither, upon my entreaty, that they would grant me an hours liberty to do some business: and a little after knowing that the most affectionate among them partly imagining my intention, would not be far from me; to avoid the trouble of visits, which I could not have endured in the bad humour I then was, and the obstacles which might cross my design, I went down secretly by a private pair of stairs into the Garden: and from thence attended by one Squire only, I went to the house of Sulpicia a Roman Lady of eminent quality, one whom you know, and in whom I had very great confidence. It was before her that I highly exclaimed against the infidelity of Julia, and made my complaint freely, as well of this last injury as of those which had preceded, and did violently out with all which lay upon my heart. Sulpicia did all she could possible, not to excus the inconstancy of Julia (for she was one of the first to condemn her) but to hinder me from taking the effects thereof so much to heart, and to moderate in part the transports wherewith I was troubled. If I were Marcellus, said she to me, I would deal after another manner than you do, and the spirit of Julia will better be reduced by marks of indifferency and coldness, than by this boiling humour, and these violent resentments whereinto you precipitate yourself. And if I were Sulpicia, answered I to her, I should give this counsel to my friends; but seeing I am Marcellus, interessed in my repose, and in my honour, and to my misfortune still passionate for that unfaithful Princess, I cannot contain myself within that coldness and that indifferency which you express. My love is not extinguished for being injured: and it is through the indignation of Heaven that these effects of ingratitude have not been able to banish it out of my mind. I have not ceased from loving her, though I have forborn in part to render her the devoirs to which I was daily obliged: and if I have supported with moderation the secret testimonies of her change, the public ones have wronged me too much for me to be able to dissemble them.  
After these words and some other discourses that I had with Sulpicia, I called for paper, and without consulting any more with my former respect, in my transport I wrote these words to Julia.  
MARCELLUS to the Princess JULIA.  
AS long as you injured but my love only, I supported your inconstancy with patience enough, and I have not demanded any reparation for it; because I believe that by preferring Drusus before me, you had sufficiently punished yourself, you are obliged to me besides for this, that forsaken as I was, I have always out of love to you, kept secret what I could not discover but to your disadvantage and confusion; but since you have been forward to publish it yourself, and that to the infidelity which only wronged my love, you have been pleased to add an injury which wrongs my courage and my honour; you must not think it strange, if I grant that to my honour that possibly I owed not to my love, and that I seek the satisfaction which it demands of me by those ways, which hitherto the respect and consideration I had for you hindered me from.  
After I had written this Letter, I gave it to the Squire who waited upon me, with order to carry it to Julia the same day: and after his departure, staying a while longer, but in vain, to find out some means to execute my design with little noise, I took at last an horse and a footman from Sulpicia's house, and without any other company I went out to seek Drusus, and to make him draw his sword wheresoever I could meet him. I went directly to his house, but having understood at his gate that he was not returned since he went forth to go to the Capitol, and that he had dined with Maecenas, I went to pass by Maecenas his house, and by good fortune as I came near the gate, I saw Drusus come out there a horseback, attended only by persons on foot, who were not capable to hinder the effect of my resolution. I no sooner saw him but my resentment violently reinforcing itself, I could hardly forbear running upon him with my Sword in my hand, yet I moderated myself as much as I possibly could, and accosting him with a visage wherein he might read part of my intentions: Drusus, said I to him, I have a moment's business with you. Drusus did not stand to make himself farther entreated to hearken to me, but withdrawing twelve or fifteen paces from those who attended him: What do you desire of me, says he to me? when we were at liberty of speaking without being overheard; I desire, said I, to make you know that you have gained by your fortune, only what could be due to none but myself, by the way of merits and services; and that after the knowledge you had of my designs for Julia, and my engagement to her, you could not employ yourself in her service, nor serve yourself against me with the inconstancy of her spirit without declaring yourself my Enemy, and giving me just occasion of proceeding to extremities with you. I am not obliged, replied Drusus, without being troubled, to consider your interests to my own prejudice; and since that which you have done against us, for the Enemies of our Family, there hath been no amity between us which might hinder me from following my inclinations and seeking my own advantages out of fear of displeasing you: I am willing to believe that I owe to my Fortune whatsoever I could acquire in the esteem of the Princess Julia; but whatsoever I owe to my Fortune, I shall know how to defend by valour against all those which shall believe their pretensions to be more lawful than mine. It shall be then, answered I, by the end of thy life or mine, that thou shalt dispute thy rights against mine: and without any further delay we will withdraw ourselves from those persons who may oppose our intentions, to go and give Julia, by an ultimate decision, to the most valiant, or to the most fortunate.  
Drusus had expected no less; and yet out of the consideration he had for Caesar, whose affection to me was known to him, rather than out of fear of my arms, these words troubled him a little; but after he had stayed some moments without reply, I am sorry, said he, that I cannot satisfy your desires and mine, without putting myself in danger of incurring the Emperor's displeasure: but though I might fear all things from his indignation, yet to render what I owe to my honour, I shall pass by all manner of considerations, and will allege no excuse to be dispensed with from the combat which you demand. I expected no less from you, said I to him, let us go, and seeing our arms are equal, let us no longer delay our mutual satisfaction: Ending these words, I spurred my horse through the street towards the next gate of the City: and Drusus quitting the company which followed him, came presently unto me, and road along by my side with an ardour little different from mine, but at the turning of the first street we met Tiberius, attended only by a great number of slaves on foot, and some persons on horseback. He no sooner saw us alone together, and in the condition wherein he met us, but he guessed at the truth, knowing well that for some time past there had been no Society between his Brother and I: and not doubting but what had happened at the Capitol that morning, might oblige me to some resentment, in the present thought he had of it, he took his Brother's horse by the bridle, so that he could not get from him. Brother, said he, whither go you alone with Marcellus, in so much haste? Drusus being surprised, and not being ready with an answer, would have made some sorry excuse: but Tiberius gave no credit to it, and opposig his passage more than before: You shall not go without me, added he, and I am of a Relation near enough to you, not to be suspected in all affairs you can have with Marcellus.  
Being as I was full of impatience and boiling with choler, and bearing as little affection to Tiberius as to Drusus, I could not dissemble the truth, and addressing myself to Tiberius, No, said I to him, Tiberius you are not suspected, and you have interest enough in your Brothers rather to perfect than to break our design. I shall quickly find some body to entertain you with an exercise like to ours, and you may find an occasion to make part of the resentments you have against Coriolanus, appear against his friend. I had thought, replied Tiberius, that Coriolanus had been no longer your friend, since he was declared the enemy of Caesar and of the Empire: but whether it be to end the quarrels, which sometimes we have had for the interests of that African, or to serve my Brother in those which he may have with you, I will not avoid the occasion of ruining his Fortune: and I believe you will not want one to second you, against whom I may conserve my Reputation.  
He spoke in this manner, when I saw hastening to us the young Prince Ptolemy, the Son of Anthony and Cleopatra, who upon a suspicion he had of my design, searched after me all about, with a great deal of earnestness. This Prince was but eighteen years old, but at that age he had already given extraordinary proofs of his courage and vigour: and I knowing that he loved me well enough to serve me against Tiberius, without staggering at it, and that I could not match Tiberius with a man more conformable to his birth, I presently resolved to employ him, believing that I could not go seek a friend elsewhere without losing a great deal of time, and without giving them an occasion to hinder our design who had an intention to do it. The good opinion I had of this young Prince, and the pressing occasion made me to take this resolution: and because of his youth, and divers other considerations, I should not have cast my eyes upon him, nor have gone to have sought him to have made him run this fortune. He was no sooner come to us, but without so much as looking upon Tiberius and his Brother, he told me in terms full of affection, that he sought me to link himself inseparably to me, and to make my interests his own without any distinction. By this action, and by his discourse which he uttered with a marvellous grace, I confirmed myself in my design, and embracing him with an affection like to his own: Brother, said he to him (for as you know the children of Anthony, and those of Octavia, always called so) I esteem your amity and your courage as I ought; and to testify so much to you, I offer you to day a fair occasion of acquiring glory against Tiberius I assure myself, that the reputation of his valour cannot fright you, and that you love me so well as to fight with him, whilst I do the like with his Brother. Doubt it not, said Ptolemy to me, and believe that I could not receive a more dear testimony of your friendship, nor an occasion of serving you which I should embrace with more joy. Ah! cried Tiberius, interrupting us, it is not my intention, and I will not draw my sword against the Brother of Cleopatra, upon any condition. I am sorry, replied the young Prince, that you have that consideration for me, and I shall requite you for it upon another occasion, wherein the interests of Marcellus are not concerned, but for them Tiberius, I shall be against you without dispute; and as young as I am I hope you will not blast the glory of your actions by drawing a sword against me.  
Tiberius' contested yet along time upon the difficulty he made to fight with the Brother of Cleopatra; but the young Prince pressed him so, and touched upon his honour in so acquaint terms, that believing he could not any longer deny him, without injuring his reputation: Young man, said he, you force me to an action, whereunto the love I bear the Princess your Sister doth not permit me to dispose myself without great repugnance; but you will justify me to her, and testify unto her the violence you do me. Having spoken these words he road along with us without any further dispute; but as we passed into a spacious place near the Temple of Vesta, we saw a great number of persons which made haste to part us, and stop the passages out of the City. My friends upon my going alone from Sulpicia's house, from whom they understood some part of my resentments; and Drusus his friends upon my coming to seek him at his house contrary to my custom, and in the condition I was, and all of them upon what had passed at the Capitol, and upon divers other appearances had conjectured the truth, and were separated into divers troops, that they might not fail to find us, and hinder the execution of our design. I thought we could have escaped from the first that appeared by another street: but when I saw great troops coming on every side whithersoever I could cast my eyes, I was seized upon by as violent a displeasure as ever I had been sensible of in my life: and turning myself towards Drusus with an action that sufficiently expressed my choler: We can go no further, said I, but we will not quit one another in this manner, and before the people who are coming to us can have time to part us, one of us will have time enough to draw blood of his enemy.  
I had no sooner made an end of these words, but I had my sword in my hand: and Drusus having been no less forward than myself to that action, we thrust at one another with a great deal of animosity: Ptolemy obliged Tiberius to the same, and in the presence of a thousand witnesses all four of us began a Combat, which could not have been of any long continuance by reason of its violence, though the great number of those who ran to part us had not hindered the sequel. At the first pass I received a great wound in the thigh, and Drusus was run through the shoulder; and young Ptolemy having charged Tiberius like a Lion, they slightly hurt one another at the first bout; but when we would have gone to it again, we had not the liberty, and we were environed by so many persons, that whatsoever Drusus and I could do, it was not possible for us to engage any more. This hindrance of my most violent desires made me exceed the bounds of moderation towards my most officious friends; and in stead of thanking them for the care they took of my life, I expressed my displeasure in such terms as they would not have taken at my hands if they had not been really my friends. Nevertheless there was a necessity that I should be patient; and Agrippa with divers of the most noble Romans conducted Ptolemy to Octavia's house, whilst Domitius with a great number of others carried home Tiberius and his brother.  
Octavia though she were endued with a great courage, the Princess Cleopatra and my Sisters could not see me bloody without fear and grief; but they were better satisfied, when my wound having been searched, was not found dangerous, though it were great. Ptolemy was hurt in one of his arms, but it was very slightly; and the Princess his Sister, who was afraid when she saw the blood upon his habit, was not sorry that by that little he had lost, he had testified his amity to Marcellus, and his courage to all the Romans.  
The report of our quarrel being presently spread abroad, the whole City took part with our interests; but I may truly say, that how great so ever the credit of Livia was, my part was the greater, and the most powerful: and besides the affection, which through my good hap all the disinteressed Romans bore me, the authority of Augustus, who for all the love he bore his Wife, did not stick to declare himself for me, fortified it very much. He did me the honour to come and see me when my wound was scarce dressed; and he was no sooner come near my bed, but embracing me with as much affection and tenderness as if I had been his own Son: What Marcellus, said he to me, are you so prodigal of a life that is as dear to me as my own? and do I see you in danger at Rome close by me by the children of Livia, after you had escaped so many dangers against the arms of our enemies? Sir, said I to him, I have been but in few perilous encounters, and that were not enough to oblige you to the care which out of an extraordinary goodness, you take of me. No danger, replied Caesar, can be so slight in relation to you, but 'tis very terrible to me; and you know I love Marcellus well enough, to be as sensible of his hurt as if I had received it myself: but in fine, what is the occasion that hath urged you to so violent extremities against the Son of Livia? Sir, answered I, it was for some words which Tiberius and Ptolemy had together concerning Cleopatra: and I loving the children of Anthony as my Brethren, as you and the Princess Octavia would have me, could not separate myself from their interests any more upon this than any other occasion.  
Augustus shook his head at this discourse, and looking upon me with an action which sufficiently assured me, that he did not believe me: I only asked you this question, said he, that I might receive from your own mouth the confirmation of a thing, which I have the true relation of already from my Sister: your discretion is admirable, that when you have such just cause to accuse the inconstancy, the ingratitude, and the imprudence of Julia you do not open your mouth to complain of it: but I shall know how to take such order as is fitting, both as the Father of Julia, and as being interessed in the repose of Marcellus: and I shall let Drusus and Julia know the displeasure I have received from the ambition of the one, and the ill conduct of the other. Ah! Sir, cried I, the Princess Octavia could not afflict me more sensibly, than in rendering me criminal as she hath done, both towards Julia, and towards yourself: and if in the transports of my passion I have made complaints to her sometimes as to my Mother, she should have remembered, that persons in love are not always rational in their discourses and actions. I have no cause to complain of the Princess Julia; I have received favours from her, above what I could justly pretend to: and if I could not render her so much affection or acknowledgement by my services as I could desire, I have no body to accuse for it but myself, on whom the Gods have not bestowed qualities sufficiently amiable to merit the affections of Julia. Marcellus, replied the Emperor, by your procedure so full of discretion and goodness, you render Julia yet more criminal, and I will let her know how sensible I am of the displeasure she hath done me, in such a manner that for the future she shall be more circumspect to avoid the occasions of it. Ah! Sir, said I, with an action full of transport, you cannot upon my consideration expose the Princess to the least displeasure, without bringing me to my Grave; and though it were true, that I could not conserve the goodness she once showed me, I should acknowledge the Fortune to be above me, so that I should attribute the loss of it rather to the justice of the Princess than to her inconstancy. You flatter her too much, added Caesar; but seeing you love her so much as not to desire any reparation of her fault, that might cause any grief to her, I will spare her for your sake, and will only command her to see Drusus no more, and to dispose herself to be married to you so soon as you are recovered. Sir, replied I, in this grace which you offer me, I find all the selicity I could wish: but though it were greater, yet I would not accept of it while I lived, if the inclinations of Julia must be forced to bestow it upon me. She is of a birth not to suffer violence for the fortune of Marcellus; and it is by my love, Sir, and by my services that I ought to acquire her, rather than by your authority. There will be no need, answered the Emperor, to force the inclinations of Julia to oblige her to marry you: and I assure myself whatsoever fault the inconstancy of her spirit hath made her commit, that you are not only more dear to her than Drusus but that she will prefer you with all her heart before all other persons that I could present to her.  
The Emperor had some other discourse with me upon this Subject, whereby he endeavoured a little to compose my spirit: after which he left me, protesting he should not be satisfied if I had not quickly recovered the health of my body, and the repose of my mind. I knew afterwards that he had gross words with the Empress the same day, complaining very much of her favouring the pretensions of her Son, in prejudice of the design he had for me, wherewith she was long since acquainted, and commanded her to forbid her Son from seeing the Princess any more upon design. He chid Julia too very sharply: and after he had presented to her the displeasure she had caused him, and the danger whereinto, by her imprudence, she had cast the chief amongst the Romans, he commanded her to see Drusus no more, except it were to make him lose all the hopes she could have given him. I know not what effect this produced upon the spirit of Julia, the secret whereof is very difficult to know: but I verily believe, that as passions do not strongly fix themselves in her soul, so she took less to heart, the violence which was offered to the affection which possibly she might bear to Drusus than another person could have done: and I am ignorant likewise whether it were by the commandment of the Emperor, or upon some other motion, that she disposed herself to do what she did in my favour: but howsoever it was, the next day she came to visit me with the Princess Scribonia her Mother, who would needs do me this honour. I started at the sight of her, either out of resentment or love; I knew not how at first to judge, whether I ought to rejoice at this visit or not: and this sight did so much disorder me that I could not answer the civilities of Scribonia, but with confusion.  
Octavia, Cleopatra, my Sisters, and some other Persons, were by my bed when the two Princesses entered, and after the first discourses of Scribonia, whereby with a great deal of care and affection she informed herself of my health, and expressed the sorrow which she received for my hurt, she had a mind to give me time to entertain her Daughter, with whom for divers considerations she earnestly desired my reconciliation: and taking Octavia by one hand, and Cleopatra by the other, under pretext of enquiring the particulars of my quarrel with Drusus, she led them another way, and left me alone with Julia, or at least the persons which remained were far enough off, so that they could be no hindrance to our conversation.  
Julia had a good opportunity to begin, and I was so troubled, that for a long time I could not find words wherewith to entertain her; neither did she expect it; but as soon as she judged herself to be out of the hearing of any person, after she had cast a look upon me composed of severity and sweetness: I know not Marcellus, said she, where to begin whether with complaint or with satisfaction; you have in appearance great cause to accuse me, and in effect you have extremely offended me: if I were as forward in my resentments as you have been in yours, I should possibly have made you know, that my spirit is not overruled by the ways which you have followed; but I have been willing to pardon you partly in regard of your passion, which doth not always permit reason to act with entire liberty, and partly in regard of an inclination which your deportments have not been able to banish out of my mind, though they have obliged me to keep it a long time concealed.  
I cannot tell you after what manner I received these first words of Julia, nor what impression they made at first upon my spirit, because I gave but little credit to them; but I remember well that I answered her with coldness enough: Madam, if the offences I have done you were known to me, I should beg your pardon for them with all the repentance they could require, and should submit myself without repugnance to all the punishments you would inflict upon me for their expiation; but the Gods are my witnesses, that hitherto I have believed myself to be very innocent towards you, and as I am very far from expecting satisfaction from you, for the evils you made me suffer, so I know not for what I owe you any, except it be for having loved you possibly more than you desired, and for not being able to support the loss of your affections with an absolute unsensibility. I should not think it strange, replied Julia, or at least I should not complain of you at all, that the loss of my affections had caused you a displeasure: but to see that upon an ill-grounded suspicion, which if you had expected with sweetness and moderation, I should have cleared up to you so as to have given you perfect satisfaction, you shall fly to extremities, and break off from me with a frowardness altogether contrary to the respect and love which I thought I merited from you, and that you should forbear to visit me, or so much as look upon me in those places where you met me: and that when out of an excess of goodness which I did not owe you, I sought occasions to be reconciled, and condescending to make you excuses and reparations, you rejected them with pride and disdain, and dealt with Julia as with a person who could not be without your affection. After all this Marcellus, do you think it strange that I should revenge myself upon your scorn by some action that might be displeasing to you, and that I should make much of another to vex you, and bestow that upon him in your presence out of resentment, which he could not hope for from my inclination? did you believe that Julia was a person so base and of so little consideration with you, that upon the least suspicion, or rather the least Capricio you should come to such terms with her as you have done? Is it by this proud and imperious manner of action that a spirit like mine is obliged? and did you imagine that I ought to suffer all things without any mark of sensibility; seeing that at the lightest matters you fly beyond all the bounds that love and decency could prescribe?  
She pronounced these words with impetuosity, and by the power she had over me, she gave them such authority, as forced my spirit in part to suffer the effect which she would have them produce. Yet I did not find myself convinced: and continuing in my former terms out of an assurance of my own innocency: Certainly I should be faulty, said I, and worthy of all the evil you have made me suffer, if I were such as you have represented me: but you know very well yourself, if you please to call it to mind, that in stead of dealing with you in that manner wherewith you reproach me, I have always looked upon you with all the veneration that a Divinity could exact: and that never any spirit was fuller of submission and difference towards another, than mine was towards yours. You have not possibly forgot to how many things this respect made me close mine eyes, whereby I might very apparently have conjectured my misfortune, what credit I blindly gave to all that you were pleased to persuade me to concerning the Prince of Mauritania: and how often I have given my eyes and my judgement the lie only to receive the impressions, which you would give me: If upon the knowledge of Drusus his good fortune which he merited not to my prejudice, I have forborn to render you visits, and have not sought occasions of seeing you formerly, I have done it in obedience to yourself, or at least to please you, after I understood from your own mouth, that I could oblige you in nothing more. If I forgot myself, when you took the pains to speak to me, in expressing something to you of the knowledge I had of Drusus his fortune, in so just a resentment, a moderate complaint was pardonable enough, and if I could not suffer the last and public marks of his good hap, you cannot think it strange, if you know that I have an heart sensible of love and honour, and incapable of suffering the outrages it received in both, by your preferring of Drusus before me. You may without doubt, replied Julia, find some excuses for your procedure, which I should easily receive from any other but yourself; and I should not have been very sensible of any thing from you which might have moved or displeased me, if I had not born you a real affection; but from you, whom I have so dearly loved, the least things touch me to the heart: and I believed that you were much more obliged to me, than all others; I could not see you do any thing to the contrary, and from a distaste, which I should easily have imputed to the first motions of your passion, pass to an obstination against me, without being moved at it, and sensible of it in another manner, than without doubt I should have been, had it been for any person less dear to me than Marcellus.  
I was about to answer her I know not how, being uncertain what belief I should give to her words, when she laid one of her hands upon my mouth, and accompanying this action with an all-attractive look, and a gesture full of sweetness, and the secret charm wherewith she subdues hearts: Speak no more, said she, and let neither of us seek any farther justification. I confess we have both failed, and my desire is that we may agree, and be perfectly reconciled for the future. As she uttered these words she pressed her hand against my mouth, whether it were to hinder me from speaking, or by their favour, absolutely to disarm my just resentments. O the power of this Tyrannical passion which we call love, or rather the feebleness of a Soul subject to love! by this a Soul loses its light and ordinary understanding; and by this a Soul, which in the other actions of our life, leaves the government entirely to reason, submits without resistance to an imperious ascendant, which overturns all rules, destroys all appearances, and closes our eyes against all things but what may conserve our error.  
Never possibly was any lover more justly unsatisfied with the person beloved, than I was with Julia; never was any inconstancy more clearly declared than hers; nor ever was a Soul fortified, as I thought, with a more firm resolution than mine, and yet (I am ashamed, Tyridates, to confess it to you) at the least attempt that this constant Princess would make to appease the revolt of my spirit, which had rebelled against her authority, she reduced it to a blind submission with all the facility that might be. I could not resist either the words or the looks, or the charming action of this Princess, and though, by the light of the little reason I had left, I perceived part of her artifice, and could not find in her words any justification of her usage towards me, yet all the reflections I could make upon what was past, had no power to keep or hinder me from falling again into the snare which I saw, and through my cruel destiny could not avoid.  
In fine, whether out of weakness, I gave credit to part of that which Julia was pleased to persuade me to, or not believing it, I was forced by the Empire she had usurped over me, to pass by whatsoever my reason could represent to me, and neglected all things that might serve for my defence, I submitted to the yoke more than ever, and saw myself abandoned in one moment of all my resolutions and resentments; I cast my eyes upon her face, and fetching a sigh, and pressing her hand against my mouth with a more passionate action than ever: O Julia, said I to her, who can be able to defend himself against you, when you are pleased entirely to employ all your powers! I will not repeat to you all the discourse that passed between us at this reconciliation; it will be sufficient to let you know that Julia forgot nothing which might conduce to my satisfaction: and to perfect my cure, she promised me never to look upon Drusus, but as the most indifferent person in the world.  
A little after Scribonia and Octavia being returned to us, they read in my countenance part of the truth, and Scribonia who earnestly desired that I should be reconciled to her Daughter, seemed as well contented with it as if some greater fortune had befallen her. After this first visit Julia gave me many more with her Mother, till I was cured; and by the continuance of her caresses, and her well placed favours, she so perfectly banished out of my mind all the remainders of the troubles she had raised there, that I hardly remembered them; and when I went abroad, I visited her, and served her in the same manner as I had formerly done before Drusus engaged himself in her service. She was punctual enough in what she had promised concerning her quitting Drusus, and by a revolution which I knew neither how to comprehend, nor approve, though it were to my advantage, she treated that Prince in such sort, that the people of Rome could hardly be of the opinion that she ever esteemed him in the least. She never so much as sent to inquire how he did during the time his wound retained him in his bed, after the day of our reconciliation, and when he was cured; and would have rendered her visits, she received him with such coldness or disdain rather, as quickly made him perceive that his pretensions to her were ruined. To the first complaints he would have made to her of it, she contented herself to say, that she must be obedient to the Emperor's commands, who had enjoined her not to let him live in the hopes he had conceived of her, but to give her affections entirely to Marcellus; but when he would have pressed her farther, alleging to her that when she gave him the first testimonies of her good will, she was not ignorant of the Emperor's intentions, which were always inclined to Marcellus, and that since he had not been guilty of any action which might make her so suddenly change her inclinations: Drusus, said she, would you have me confess the truth? When I began to show you countenance, I was unsatisfied with Marcellus, but I was not absolutely broken off from him: I made use of you to reduce him to his duty; and I had no better means to effect it than the jealousy which I raised in him by my well treating of you: but now we are reunited according to the Emperor's intention, and that he is resolved shortly to join us together for ever, I counsel you, Drusus, to dream of something else, and to quit all the pretensions you have had to Julia, since the will of her Father and her own proper inclinations, design her for another.  
Never possibly was a man surprised as Drusus was at a discourse in all appearance so little expected; and he was so offended at it, and did so highly resent it, that all the respect he bore the Emperor and such a Princess as Julia, was necessary to hinder him from being transported with anger. Julia gave him no time to reply, but retiring herself as soon as she had done speaking, she left him at liberty to digest his adventure.  
Drusus being possessed with a violent grief, continued divers days in a strange irresolution, not knowing what course to take in so cross a conjecture. As he really loved Julia, he could not dispose himself to lose the hopes he had conceived without very great violence, and his first thoughts inclined him to call me to account for his misfortune, and to end that which upon the same quarrel we had already begun. The severe prohibitions which the Emperor had laid upon us, were not able to avert him from it; and being naturally endued with the height of courage, he easily passed by all manner of difficulties and dangers, which might impede his resolution: but a little after having made a strong reflection upon the usage, full of scorn and indignity which he had received from Julia, and valuing himself according to his own worth, he was not of opinion that for a person of that humour, and by whom he had been so used, he was obliged to attempt either the hazard of a combat, or the danger of drawing Caesar's indignation upon him, or to expose himself to the least pain or danger, which might express any remainder of affection to her, or any grief for her loss.  
It was not without great struggle that Drusus gained this victory over his passion; but joining divers considerations to his resentment, which might strengthen the designs wherewith his choler inspired him, and rightly judging that though he might hope for a second change of Julia's mind, yet he should hardly overcome Augustus his will, which was wholly bend for me by the counsel of his friends, his kindred, and Livia herself, who sympathized as much in his resentment as she had done in his good success, he took a final resolution never to think more of Julia. So long as he continued irresolute, he seldom appeared in public: but when he was confirmed in his design, he did not only show himself to his friends with his former cheerfulness, he did not only let Julia know upon all occasions how little he was troubled at the loss of her affections: but to make it finally appear how little he was interessed in the business, and how little he envied me, from the coldness which was between us, he desired to pass to another kind of life with me, and accosting me one day in such a manner as if there had never been any quarrel between us: Marcellus, said he to me, I have formerly yielded Julia to you against my will, but now I leave her to you with all my heart: I am willing to believe that you will conserve her affections a long time, and that spirit which you are better acquainted with than I, will possibly stay itself upon a merit such as yours; I will not any more dispute nor envy that fortune to a Prince, who without doubt deserves a better, but to comfort me for what you have taken from me, which was more justly due to you than to me, I desire the honour of your friendship, whereof henceforward I will make greater account than of all the affections of Julia.  
This discourse of Drusus surprised me at the first, and I knew not at the beginning how I ought to answer him, if at the end he had not made me to understand his intention; and by the gentleness of his proceeding, had not obliged me to express the like freedom to him. Drusus, replied I to him, if the affection of Julia were more due to me than to you, it was because I had bestowed the greatest part of my life in her service, whereas you had hardly employed some months of yours therein. I hope I shall fix her spirit better than I have done for the time past, since you cease to dispute her with me, and I shall little fear my other rivals, since by my good fortune I am freed from the most formidable. The obligation I have to you for it, makes me willingly grant you the friendship you demand, and I shall always infinitely esteem yours for the knowledge I have of your virtue.  
After these words we embraced each other, and as I really had as good an opinion of Drusus, as could be conceived of any man, and that his person was very amiable in all respects, in spite of the displeasures I had received from him, I had no unwillingness to become his friend after he expressed a desire of it, and requested it with so good a grace. In ●ffect, after this day, we began to converse together, not only as two persons which had no quarrel to each other, but as two men which had a particular esteem of each other. Drusus accosted Julia no more, but only to render her that which was due to Caesar's daughter without any other interest, and he never expressed either by discourse or action, that any thing of his passion was yet remaining. Livia being extraordinarily animated against Julia, and losing the hope of being more closely allied to Augustus, confirmed her son in his resolution, and counselled him to seek by other ways, a fortune which could not escape his birth and good qualities.  
At this time I lived in some repose with Julia, receiving from her all manner of proofs of her good will, and expecting from Caesar within a few days, the conclusion which should finally remedy my passion. The Princess Cleopatra, of whom I am obliged to speak to you, had likewise time to take breath after the persecutions under which she had so much suffered; and though she were still exposed to the attempts of Tiberius, she was no longer afraid of them, seeing they were no longer upheld by a tyrannical authority; and Caesar keeping himself exactly to the Oath which he had made, permitted Tiberius only to act by his services, without offering any violence to the inclinations of Cleopatra: It was not but that he caused her to be solicited in favour of his Wife's Son; and offered her such advantageous conditions in espousing him, as might content the highest ambition: but it was always by ways of sweetness, without employing his authority in it; and by these means, as well as by the former, he wrought so little effect upon the spirit of this constant Princess, that Tiberius' despairing to conquer her, resolved to quit Rome, with an intention, as it was reported, to go seek out Coriolanus in Africa, and call him to an account, not only as an obstacle to his felicity, as far off as he was, but also for the wound he had given him, by which he was reduced to the extremity of his life, and for which he was engaged in honour to require satisfaction.  
He was upon the point of departure, and I in the condition and posture I told you of, when the news came to Rome of the great Victories which Coriolanus had obtained in Africa. 'Twas known, that after he had vanquished all Volusius his Lieutenants in divers Battles, he had at length in the last totally defeated him, and taken Volusius himself prisoner, that the two Mauritania's had generally submitted to his arms, and that nothing resisted him in his Father's Dominions, whereof he was then the peaceable possessor.  
Whatsoever interest I took in the Emperor's affairs, the amity I bore to Coriolanus was more strong, and though I was obliged to conceal part of my thoughts, that I might not totally incense the mind of Augustus against me, I felt a joy for the good success of mv friend, equal at least to what I could be sensible of for mine own: I expressed it to Cleopatra continually; and that generous Princess, though for the conquest of a Crown, she could not more esteem of a Prince, whom she loved for the only qualities of his person, yet she rejoiced in the part she took in his glory, and we entertained each other with our mutual satisfaction, when we received the knowledge of the little cause we had to interess ourselves in the good fortunes of that unfaithful Prince; and that by the black treason which he committed against each of us, he obliged us to change our former affections into great resentments, and a violent hatred against him. You are about to understand, Tyridates, the cause of this change which hath amazed you: and as I pass to the last effects of the inconstancy of Julia, I will likewise relate to you the black perfidiousness of this ungrateful friend, whose defence you have undertaken without knowledge of him, whom I cannot call to mind without afflicting myself with too just a grief.    

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA: OR, Love's Masterpiece. PART V.  
LIB. IV.  
ARGUMENT.  
Marcellus being about to continue his story, is interrupted by the return of Arsanes from Judea, who brings the sad news of Mariamne's death. Tyridates is struck to the heart with it, and commands Arsanes to give him the particulars. He relates Salmoe's plots to abuse Herod's jealousy to Mariamne's ruin. Mariam inconsiderately reproaches Herod with the bloody orders he had left with Joseph and Sohemus to kill her if he miscarried. This heightens Herod's jealousy which is blown into a flame by Salmone's malice. He imprisons Mariam and sends Judges to examine her. She rejects him, which puts him into a rage. Philon and Sohemus are put to the torture, who confess something concerning Tyridates. Herod by Salome's instigation gives order to put Mariam to death, which is immediately executed. Mariam dies with an unexampled constancy. Arsanes having finished his story, Tyridates expires, and fulfils Thrasillus his prediction.  
MArcellus would have gone on with this narration, and Tyridates who out of the interest he took in the justification of Coriolanus, had heard this passage with impatience, disposed himself to great attention: when he saw a man come into his chamber, by the sight of whom all the curiosity he had to hear strange adventures was dissipated, and at whose sight he appeared all amazed and astonished. This was Arsanes that faithful Servant, to whom he had such grand obligations, whom a month before he had sent into Judea to learn news of the Queen Mariam. Tyridates no sooner knew him, but the trouble of his soul discovered it felt by divers signs; and by this powerful seizure almost forgetting the presence of Marcellus, and raising himself up to Arsanes, Ah! Arsanes, cried he, what news do you bring me? Arsanes, who possibly upon the way was prepared to disguise to his Master the truth of the news he had heard, being touched at his sight with an extraordinary tenderness, had not constancy enough to hold the resolution he had taken, and instead of making him the answer which he had premeditated to no purpose; by a silence full of trouble and confusion, and a visage full of the deepest characters of sorrow, he made him comprehend that he had none but bad news to tell him: yet he would have forced himself to dissemble some part of it, and opened his mouth twice to speak against his thoughts, but by the constraint which he would have laid upon himself, his disorder was redoubled; and not finding courage enough to perform what in vain he had attempted, he let fall some tears from his eyes, which he held fixed upon the ground, and continued mute with the countenance of a Man forlorn.  
This was speech enough to make himself be understood by the unfortunate Tyridates. At this sight a mortal shivering ran through his whole body, and he accounted himself condemned by this mournful silence more certainly than by a fatal sentence: all the fear which the troubled thoughts of the precedent days, and the terrible dreams of the last night had imprinted in his mind, returned upon him in a moment with mortal terrors; and he remained before Arsanes in a posture which sufficiently expressed the cruel agitation of his soul.  
After he had a while beheld the countenanc of his faithful Servant, whereupon he saw his misfortune lively painted out, he retired a few steps back, looking upon him with a very pitiful gesture: Ah! Arsanes, said he, I am undone; and without doubt you have none but sad news to tell me. Arsanes for all this discourse did not as yet see himself in a condition to reply, and the compassion which he had for the grief, which he himself was about to cause in his dear Master, produced such tender effects in his spirit, that he was forced to give a fresh course to those tears which before he had endeavoured to restrain with violence.  
The afflicted Tyridates reading the confirmation of his misery in these sad marks of so strong a grief: Ah! cried he, let us inquire no farther, we must die without doubt, either Mariam detests me, or else Mariam hath no longer a being in the World. At these words he let himself fall upon a chair, where he continued like a man forlorn, and in a condition which touched the soul of Marcellus with a tender compassion.  
In the mean time Arsanes used his utmost endeavours to compose himself: and having recovered courage enough to be able to speak, after he had dried up his tears in part, and attempted to fix some marks of constancy upon his countenance: Sir, said he to his Master, the affection I bear you hath betrayed me, and Your presence hath made me lose all the resolution I had taken to spare you, or at least a while to keep from you a violent grief: I might have concealed from you for a time the sad news I had to tell you: but in fine, I could not keep you from the knowledge of it, and it is of such importance that the report of it will quickly be spread over all the World, I much wonder that it is not already come to your ears by some other mouth than mine: and it is by the cruelty of his destiny, that the most affectionate of your servants sees himself reduced to give you the most sensible displeasure that you can possibly receive.  
Arsanes stopped at these words, and Tyridates finding in them whatsoever of cruelty his fears had suggested to him, lifted up his eyes and hands to Heaven with an action full of transport; Mariam is dead, said he, with a great cry, Mariam is dead without doubt, and for a disaster of any other nature, Arsanes would never have lost his courage. You have but too rightly divined, replied Arsanes, Mariam is not any longer in the World; and by a deplorable destiny I am condemned to acquaint You with this fatal truth.  
These words were like the blow of a thunderbolt, wherewith the unfortunate Tyridates saw himself struck dead; and Arsanes had no sooner uttered them, but the Prince his strength utterly failed him, his eyes grew dim, and he remained cold and pale between Marcellus his arms, who seeing him faint, stepped out to help him: the desolate Arsanes, and the Roman Prince could not see him in this condition, without being touched with a tender compassion: and Marcellus who instead of the comfort that he was made to hope for, saw himself conducted by his ill fortune to this pitiful spectacle, received this addition to his displeasures with great resentments. He strove as much as the compassion of humane miseries, and the motions of his particular generosity could oblige him, to give assistance to the Prince being fallen into a trance; he threw water in his face divers times, and used all the ordinary remedies, to make him recover his senses; but it was no such easy matter, and the Prince was in so deep a swoon, that for a whole hour they could not make him come to himself.  
At length by tormenting him they forced him to open his eyes, but he opened them only to terrible objects, and there was nothing in the world but what was odious and horrible to him. Grief was too strong in his soul to produce common effects; and it was not expressed by exclamations or terms; death only, which at the first presented itself to the despairing Prince, and such a death as Thrasillus had formerly foretold, seemed conformable to his thoughts, and was received by him as his only remedy, and as his only consolation. He turned his eyes, which already looked wildly, and were bepainted with the colours of death towards Arsanes, who stood by him melting into tears, and stifling some sobs which would have hindered the passage of his speech: Is Mariam dead then, said he, and doth Tyridates stay one moment in the World after the loss of Mariam? Arsanes had not the assurance to give an answer to these words, and Marcellus well considering that it was unjust and unprofitable to oppose the first motions of so lively and so just a grief, kept the like silence, and contented himself to stay by Tyridates, whom during his trance they had laid upon the bed, and to observe his actions, for fear lest in the violence of his despair he might make some attempt upon his own life. He made no sign of having any such design, and perceiving that death approached of itself, without being otherwise invited, he attended it with a satisfaction which partly moderated his grief; hardly any complaints issued out of his mouth, he only uttered sometimes the name of Mariam, and continuing in a profound meditation upon his calamity, he drew on, as much as he could possible, by these fatal thoughts, the remedy which must reunite him to his beloved Queen.  
After an hours silence, which had something in it more doleful than the most mournful cries and lamentations, having called Arsanes to him, Inform me, said he to him, what was the end of the Queen Mariam; tell me whether the Gods or Men advanced it, and do not forget the particularities of it, which are come to your knowledge. Ah! Sir, said Arsanes, spare me if you please that displeasure, and stay till your spirit be in another condition to hear a relation which without doubt will redouble your grief. That stay will be unprofitable, replied Tyridates, my resolution is already taken, and the condition neither of my grief nor life can be changed by your discourse.  
He uttered these few words with a very lamentable look and action, and Arsanes having in vain alleged some excuses to be dispensed withal from this sad narration, upon an absolute command disposed himself at last to obey him, Tyridates prepared himself for it with an apparent constancy, which caused admiration in Marcellus, and some despair in Arsanes of qualifying his Master's spirit: and after that Marcellus melting with compassion at this deplorable adventure, was sat down by Tyridates to hear this sad narration, Arsanes with a great deal of pain began in these terms.  

The History of Mariam.  
I Will relate to you, Sir, seeing you command me, and my evil destiny will have it so, the end of a great Queen who was worthy of your affections, and the admiration of the whole earth: I will recount to you the particularities of it in a few words, as I have understood them (from such of her Domestics who best knew them) in Jerusalem, where the Queen rendered up her Soul two days before I arrived.  
Herod's humour and manner of life with Mariam is sufficiently known to you, Sir, and you have not forgotten in what condition you left her at your departure from Judea; Jealousy, to which he was inclined above all other men, tormented him at that time with very great violence, and during some days his rage expressed itself by all the marks he could give it without coming to those cruel extremities to which he was since transported: he complained highly of the Queen, whom he termed unfaithful, and against whom he vomited out whatsoever his unjust passion could put into his mouth, and the wicked Salome, whose rage was augmented by your departure, and the scorn you made of her affections inspired these resentments into him as much as possibly she could, and did not let slip any occasion to exasperate him more and more against the Queen, whom she could only accuse of having robbed her of an heart to which she pretended, but in vain.  
This savage spirit being susceptible of all bad impressions easily received what this wicked Sister would have him; and in this rage to which he was immoderately abated, he continued divers days without seeing the Queen, or hearing her spoken of by them who out of a good zeal interposed for their reconciliation. Mariam thought herself never the more unhappy for this, and the caresses of this cruel man being as insupportable as the effects of his choler, she would have been contented to have continued in the same condition with him, if she had not been accused to have drawn this disgrace upon herself by some action wherewith she might be reproached, and whereby she might seem to have deviated from that sublime virtue to which she had always born so great a love.  
The resentments of Herod continued as long as possibly they could, but at last they gave place to his love; and he really bearing a very violent affection to the Queen his Wife, by this force the indignation he had conceived against her was dissipated, and he returned to her more kind and humble than before; he expressed his repentance for what was past, and conjured her to retain no memory of it, as he would forget the suspicions which he had conceived against her fidelity. The Queen, whatsoever repugnance she had against the person and humour of Herod, did yet respect the character of an Husband; and being full of a generous goodness, by the regret which he testified to her by very significant expressions, she was pacified, as she believed it was her duty to be, and she was reconciled unto him as far as the disproportion of their manners, and the memory of the cruel injuries she had received in the death of all her relations would permit.  
Herod's mind was in some repose, and there were general appearances enough of it in the Court. Salome only, and those she had drawn to her party even died with despite in the public tranquillity, and could not endure peace in the Royal Family, without having a cruel war in their hearts. Herod was continually with the Queen, and expressed to her the same ardency of affection as he did in the beginning of his passion: and by your absence having lost the object which might put him again in distrust, he continued a long time without showing any mark of jealousy, only the unwillingness of the Queen to endure his caresses, caused sometimes some disorder between them: and as it was a difficult thing that this Princess should keep herself in an eternal constraint, and for a Man whom she had so many reasons to hate, so she could not choose sometimes but receive him with coldness, and express but little sweetness or complacency to him.  
Herod's spirit was then transported with very violent excesses, and Salome seeing him in this condition, lost no time nor occasion to represent to him, that the disdains of Mariam proceeded from the memory of Tyridates, which absence could not blot out of her mind. Herod's jealousy easily renewed itself at this discourse; and as long as he was tormented by it, he flew out into discourses, and sometimes into designs full of violence; but at length love returned more powerful than Salome, and all that the solicitations of that wicked Creature had raised against the innocent Queen, was overthrown by this predominant passion in Herod's soul. In this sort they passed a whole year, that one could not tell what to call their kind of life, peace, or open War, and possibly they might have lived a longer time in this manner, if the destiny of this fair Princess had not been hastened by a terrible disaster.  
Herod having one day sent to entreat the Queen to come into his Chamber, she, whether she were busy about something which was more dear to her than the sight of that cruel Man, or whether she were then in the height of averseness from him, as the memory of the injuries she had received renewed in her mind, refused divers times to go; and at last being extraordinarily pressed to it, she disposed herself to render him this visit; but she did it with a countenance, whereupon Herod might easily read the repugnance she had to give him this satisfaction. Herod upon this discovery being nettled with a violent displeasure, could not dissemble it any more than she, and greeting her with a discontented look: I am very sorry Madam, said he, that you are obliged by any law to offer that violence to yourself that you do: and if I had not this violent passion for you, which by your bad usage you endeavour to banish out of my soul as you can possibly, I should less often give you the trouble of seeing an Husband, which by his misfortune is become so odious to you.  
The Queen was little troubled at Herod's words, and looking upon him with a disdainful eye: I hate You not, answered she, the God whom we serve, and my duty forbid that; but you may well imagine that my affections could not be strengthened towards you by such bloody displeasures as you have done me. Ah! ungrateful Woman, replied the Jewish King, proud, cruel, and irreconcilable spirit, wilt thou never put an end to thy unjust reproaches, wilt thou eternally serve thyself with the pretence of injuries and displeasures, to palliate the natural aversion thou hast against thy husband? Though I had received this aversion, answered the Queen, from my nature, I should have known how to have bridled it by my duty, and I should have reduced my spirit to fit terms of submission to an Husband, if in stead of my Husband he were not become the murderer of all my Friends, and my particular persecutor. Ah! replied Herod, you are to blame to complain of my persecutions, and hitherto I have not persecuted you, but with too much love: 'tis for that you may really reproach me; and though you had some reason to accuse me for the misfortune of your friends, yet by the ardent testimonies of my love, which I give you every moment of my life, these resentments would have been effaced out of any spirit but yours. Ah! what testimonies, answered Mariam, what testimonies do you give me of your love, which may endear me more than those actions, whereby you have rendered me the most unfortunate of all Women? What testimonies? replied Herod, can you be ignorant of them, ungrateful and unacknowledging Woman? have you your eyes only open to injuries, and will you eternally keep them shut against all the proofs of this violent passion, whereby I have lost the reproof of my life? Do not you remember that for you alone I abandon the care of my Subjects, and of my own person, which by your ingratitude you expose every day to the extremities of grief?  
The Queen not able to dissemble her thoughts in this rancounter, and by too prompt a precipitation losing part of that prudent precaution which she had hitherto used in the conduct of her life: You forget, said she in a disdainful manner, to put me in mind of the most important proofs of your love, and you would not have me know the obligations I have to you for the care you had of my safety in the Voyages you made to Laodicea and to Rhodes, to Anthony and to Augustus. It is certain, answered Herod, who did not at first apprehend the reproach she would make him, that in spite of your cruelty nothing was so sensible and so insupportable to me in those Uoyages, as the regret of being absent from you, and they who saw me in that time of absence, observed sufficiently in all my actions that I was separated from the better part of myself. It was for this reason, added the Queen, that in both the Voyages you gave such excellent orders, first to Joseph, and afterwards to Sohemus, for the conservation of my life, and this part of yourself was so dear to you, that you were not willing that death itself should separate you from it.  
At these words Herod seemed to be struck with a thunderbolt, and instantly calling to mind the orders he had really given to Joseph and Sohemus for the death of Mariam, he presently understood this reproach. He had hitherto believed that she was ignorant of this effect of his cruelty, and he had so odered the secret to those whom he had chosen for the Ministers of his cruel intentions, that he could not imagine that for any consideration they could ever resolve to discover it: but contrary to his expectation receiving this knowledge of the contrary, and not being able to dissemble to the Queen this horrible effect of his jealousy, he continued confounded and amazed, expressing the motions of his soul by his silence, and by the astonishment which appeared in his visage. The shame of seeing his villainy discovered to that Person of the world, who should have been most ignorant of it, was the first passion which possessed him, and which made him hold his eyes fixed upon the earth, without daring to raise them to the face of the so justly offended Queen: then he thought upon the ill office he had received from his Subjects, and sighed with grief for the infidelity of those in whom he most confided: and in fine, having an outrageous spirit, and capable, by what he perceived in himself, to entertain the strangest thoughts, he imagined that Joseph and Sohemus could not have betrayed the confidence he had in them, nor have failed in their duty to him, both in regard of their birth, and the benefits they had received of him, but for the love of Mariam.  
This thought which threw itself with violence into his soul, found as much room there to establish itself as could be; and he knowing the powers of Mariam, by the daily proof he made of them, made no further doubt but that by them only the fidelity of Joseph and Sohemus was staggered. Jealousy, that furious passion, to which he naturally had so much inclination, possessed itself incontinently of his soul, and as in a place taken by assault, it presently set all on fire: the blackest suspicions he could conceive of the virtue of Mariam, presented themselves to his imaginations, and the proofs he had received of it upon so many occasions, could not in this last defend it from the criminal impressions which established themselves in his soul. Ah! cried he, all in a rage, I am betrayed, I am undone, both Heaven and Earth abandon me, and all those whom I thought worthy of my friendship and my confidence, ingratefully unite themselves to ruin me: Ah envious Heaven! Ah disloyal Wife! ah ungrateful and perfidious Servants! to what extremities do you reduce me?  
After these words he continued some while without speaking, revolving in his mind a thousand furious resolutions, and walking in the Chamber with an action full of fury and transport. The constant Queen who saw him in this condition, was little moved at the expressions of his choler; but she repented she had spoken so much, and that by her discourse she had exposed to the rage of this cruel man, those whose ruin she foresaw already, she would have remedied it if it had been possible for her, but she could not revoke what she had said, and considering with herself which way to avert the tempest which hung over their heads and threatened them, she continued in silence not without some confusedness, which confirmed the jealous King in his unworthy imaginations.  
After he had continued a while in this condition, he approached the Queen with a pale and disfigured countenance, and viewing her with a furious eye from head to foot: Those which told thee of my intentions, said he to her, told thee but the truth; and it imports me nothing to deny it, that out of a violent excess of love I would not have left thee after my death, either to thy Friends or to my Enemies: yes, my design was not to be separated from thee by death itself, and I should have been too happy if I had performed in my life-time what I have commanded to be done after my death. Those perfidious persons who have betrayed me, have told thee nothing but the plain truth, but they did not dispose themselves to deceive the confidence I had in their friendship, and expose themselves to the punishments which are due to their infidelity, but upon some powerful considerations; thou hast without doubt proposed a recompense to them, which hath made them despise what they could expect from me, and not fear that death which they affronted in betraying me. It was not by a present of small price that thou hast corrupted those persons which had been always most faithful to me, and Joseph who is one of the most eminent ranks in Judea, as being my near ally, and Sohemus, whom by my bounty I had put into a condition not to aspire to Riches by so dangerous a Treason, could not have been seduced by any Power inferior to thy beauty: these are the charms which have gained them, and thy favours only have made them contemn the dangers which might divert them from their Treason.  
Herod pronounced these words with an impetuosity which sufficiently expressed the cruel agitation of his Soul, and the Queen having harkened to him with an admirable patience: Say what thou wilt, said she to him, against a Person who is no longer in a condition to receive new offences, either by this action, or by thy discourse; and God hath discovered to me the fatal orders which thou gavest against my life by other ways than thou imaginest; and those whom thou suspectest to have revealed thy secret, are not they by whom thy cruel intentions are made known unto me. This is thy custom, replied Herod, crying out more than before, to excuse thy lovers in the bloody outrages they do me, and thou takest care of their love, who never hadst any care of thy Husband's repose or thine own reputation. Thou wouldst have rendered the like office to the perfidious Tiberius; and those favours which thou hadst prodigally bestowed upon a Barbarous Prince are since communicated to my allies, and descended to my Domestics. This is the high spirit, this is that pride which hitherto hath made part of our divisions; and the haughty blood of the Asmoneans, which disdained a King her husband, hath debased itself even to Sohemus.  
In conclusion, he gave her a thousand reproaches full of injuries, against which the Queen did nor vouchsafe to justify herself; but looking upon him with more disdain than 〈◊〉: Thou may'st believe, said she, whatsoever thy rage can inspire thee with against me: the outrageous reproaches which thou layest upon me show the baseness of thy soul and of thy birth, and I scorn thee too much to take any care to defend myself against thy unworthy accusations. Thy care would be but in vain, replied the Jewish King, and thou mayst reserve thy justifications for the defence of a Life which I have spared but too long: the time is come that I will mock at th● scorn, and thy infidelities shall be punished: that love which hitherto hath guarded thee against my too just resentments, shall no longer oppose itself against my justice; and I have lost that fatal passion which created all my misfortunes, since I have discovered amongst thy lovers the basest of my Domestics; they shall pay me part of the offences they had done me by their blood, and torments shall draw such verities out of their mouths, as shall make thy shame and perfidiousness appear to the world.  
Having spoken these words, to which the Queen had not time, nor possibly any design to reply; he called the Officers of the Guard, and commanded them upon pain of death, to conduct the Queen presently to the Prison, to which they were wont to commit Persons of Quality. The Queen submitted to this command with less repugnance than she had to come into his chamber, and she followed the officers whither they would have her, without speaking a word, or changing countenance.  
At the same time he sent other Officers to seize upon Joseph and Sohemus; and though the former had married his Aunt, and was of a considerable rank amongst the Jews, yet he used him with no more gentleness than Sohemus, but sent them both into several parts of the Prison. He had hardly given these orders, but the wicked Salome having learned by her spies, whom she had ordinarily about him, part of what he had passed, came to see him in his Chamber, where she found him in the violent agitations of rage and transport. He no sooner saw her, but coming to her with a disfigured countenance: Sister, said he I am very sorry that I did not follow your counsel long since: and I had freed myself of those mortal displeasures which torment me, if I had not suffered myself to be so much blinded with the love of this Woman, which Heaven hath given me for the scourge and Plague of my Life 'Tis not only upon Tyridates that this ungrateful Woman bestows her affections she descends to Jews of a much inferior Birth than that Barbarian Prince, and at last debases herself even to my Domestiques.  
Salome made as if she were amazed at this discourse, and by a mischievous and dangerous address, whereby she gave more room and credit to her artifices, she fainted at first as if she would have excused the Queen, and not have given credit to so apparent accusations. Herod who though prudent and subtle in all other things, had incredible weaknesses in things of this nature, fell into the snare which she laid him; and opposing her seemingly officious humour, with the testimonies which he believed he had of Mariamnes infidelity, he related to her with a discourse full of vehemence and impetuosity, what had passed at this last visit that she had rendered him; he confessed to her, that upon the knowledge he had of Anthony's amorous inclinations, and the advice he had received, that Gallus had carried the Pourtracture of Mariam to that Prince to make him affect her; at his departure to go to him at Laodicea, he commandeth Joseph, if he died in this Voyage, to put Mariam to death, not being willing that she should survive him, to enjoy with Anthony the fruit of a death, which possibly she might have procured him; and that upon the same consideration he had given the same order to Sohemus when he went to Rhodes, to appear before Augustus, but that he had commended the secret to them both in such a manner, and had engaged them besides to the fidelity which they owed him by so many benefits, that Mariam could not have perverted them but by favours exceeding his, and by proofs of affection, which made them both despise the friendship of their King, and death which they might infallibly expect for betraying him.  
Salome shrank her shoulders at this discourse, and feigning to be of the King's mind against her will: It is very difficult, said she, to guard one's self from the misfortune which it pleases Heaven to send us, and principally in things so little foreseen, and so far from appearance. I never doubted but that Mariam loved Tyridates, but I should not have believed that she had fallen so low as Sohemus, if in the discourse you have made me, I did not see proofs sufficiently convincing. Ah disloyal woman, continued she, after she had kept silence a while, who would have imagined, that she being so possessed with pride, should have had baseness enough too to bestow her affections upon Sohemus. She continued after these words some moments without speaking with counterfeit signs of amazement and sorrow; then on a sudden beginning again, Sir, said she, you have too much courage to suffer yourself to be overcome by affection; and if you take counsel of persons who are really faithful to you, and allied to you in blood, or by ancient affection, you will not suffer this proud and disloyal woman to enjoy the glory of having reduced you to the extremity of grief. Displeasures of this nature ought not to overturn your repose with so much violence, and the offence you have received in your honour, is not so much but you may easily remedy it: Strip yourself only of this love; which creates all the misfortunes of your life, and makes you blind to your most powerful interests, and darkened the light of your understanding: draw out by the means you have to do it, the full discovery of the treason they have committed against you, punish the culpable which expose you to such bloody displeasures, and in fine, make her submit to your justice, whom you could never make submit to your love. I am so resolved upon it, said Herod to her, that all humane considerations shall not be able to hinder me from it; and since Mariam hath not been afraid to reduce me to the extremity of shame and displeasure, I will not be more afraid to make my uttermost resentments appear against her, than if she were one of my meanest subjects. This is a resolution from which nothing shall be able to move me, and you shall see me go about it without farther delay.  
They had likewise other discourse together, which was related by persons who were near enough to hear them, though the little importance of it hinders me from relating it to you. By the counsel of Salome, before she went out of the Chamber, Herod sent likewise to lay hold on Philon the Queen's chief Eunuch, and other persons in whom she had expressed to have some confidence: all presently became suspected to this cruel man, and he disposed himself by the advice of his cruel Sister, and Pheroras, who came a little after, and was received for a third person in his Tragical conversation, to extort confessions by torments from those feeble Souls, wherein they might find an apparent occasion to destroy his virtuous Princess.  
Ah Monster! cried out Tyridates at this part of Arsanes his discourse; Ah Barbarian! how unworthy wert thou of that precious gift of Heaven, which any but a Tiger like thyself would have had in sacred veneration all his life? It must needs be that the indignation of the God which thou servest, was absolutely declared against this Royal family, from which thou hast usurped the Crown with so much injustice and cruelty: and it must needs be that the Divine providence was asleep, when it abandoned to thy rage, the greatest, and the most worthy thing of its protection, that ever it sent amongst men. Tyridates' accompanied these words with sobs, which hindered him from speaking more: and Arsanes having taken this moment of intermission, pursued thus his discourse.  
It will not be easy to express to you how the whole Court of Judea took the disgrace of their fair Queen, and what the resentments of the Jewish people were, when they saw the last and fairest blood of their lawful Kings ready to be shed, by the same cruelty which had been the destruction of all their Princes: the chiefest of them murmured highly at it, the weaker sort did tacitly deplore the disasters of that Illustrious House; and both together sacrificed their tears to persecuted Virtue and Innocence.  
Herod, the most politic of men, desiring to discover all his actions with a Masque of justice whether it were that he feared Augustus his authority, who (maugre the amity and protection, he had promised him) made him tremble every day, or that he feared an insurrection of an ill affected people; appointed Judges for Mariam to interrogate her upon such accusations as he should produce against her, and to frame her process after the ordinary way. The men, to whom he gave this commission, were in appearance without passion, but really corrupted by Salome, and obliged to comply with the motions of their Prince, by a base and dis-honourable interest. They received command to go and examine the Queen in the Prison: and when they were ready to go upon the design; Herod, whether it were that he disinherited them, or that he was spurred on by an extraordinary animosity, or on the contrary touched with some remains of love, which still resisted his resentments, would follow them secretly in this action, and stand behind a door, from whence without being discovered, he might hear their examinations, and Mariamne's answers.  
This curiosity was inspired into him by Heaven, which for the safety of the Queen would serve itself with the love which he really bore her. He being absolute in his commands, the business was executed according to his will, and having thrown an old cloak about him which disguised him in part, he went along with the Judges, to the prison where the Queen was, and stood behind her Chamber door, which they left a little open to favour his design.  
Mariam, as it was afterwards reported, saw those who were appointed to be her Judges, enter her Chamber without showing any sign of astonishment, and was no more moved at their sight, than at one of her inferior servants: they rendered her the honour which they believed due to her in this occasion, and in fine, one of them named Joab speaking for himself and his companions, declared to her their commission, and humbly beseeched her to be pleased, that, according to the order he had received of the King for it, he might examine her upon some accusations which were made against her.  
The constant Queen patiently harkened to Joab's discourse, and when he had done speaking, looking upon him with disdain, and a smile, which, though mingled with a little sharpness, showed the undauntedness and tranquillity of her spirit: I have not learned, said she, that Princesses of my birth, or rather Queens and lawful Heirs of Judea, acknowledged such persons as Joab for their Judges; and he which gave you this power hath not received enough himself from Heaven to make my spirit bow to so base a submission: I can answer before God for all the actions of my life, and by his grace they are innocent enough to be confessed to the whole world; but it is to him alone that I ought to render an account, and by my birth I have been and still am of such a quality as doth not permit me to look upon as my Judges, those which were born subjects to my Ancestors and myself.  
We have rendered, replied the Jew, what we owed to your birth and quality, as long as it hath pleased the King to permit us and we have not sought an employment which yet we could not refuse, when he was pleased to lay it upon us: but seeing that by his absolute will we have been appointed to it, and that the authority which you have had over us, aught to submit to his, you will not find it strange, if it please you, that we examine you upon the accusations which he himself lays against you. I shall account nothing strange, answered Mariam, neither from you nor from him who gave you this commission; but by all his authority you shall not oblige me to answer before any other Judge, than before his Sovereign Master and mine, and before him, who for the punishment of my fault hath exposed me to the cruelty of a man, whom he hath pleased to give me for an Husband. Besides, these formalities are no whit necessary to him for my destruction, and he hath need of no other than those wherewith he served himself in the death of Hyrcanus and Aristobulus. It is not that I fear the judgement of men, if I should submit to it, or that I cannot declare before the face of Heaven, that my innocence is pure and clear from all that can touch it. The just resentments which I have against him never gave me the liberty of one single thought wherewith he might be offended; and if the blood of a Grandfather, a Brother, and of so many other of my friends, which he hath sacrificed to his ambition, hath extinguished part of that ardent affection which an Husband less cruel might have found in a Wife less unfortunate; yet it hath not defaced the character engraved by the hand of God, whereby we are united until death, neither hath it ever inspired me with one single wish against his honour or the repose of his life.  
The fair and virtuous Queen pronounced these words with so much courage, grace, and majesty, that her Judges remained surprised with ravishment and admiration: and Herod, who from the place where he was hid had intelligibly heard them, was touched with them in such sort, that all his resentments were not capable to resist the motions of his love, which raised themselves against them with their former power, and thrusting at the door which was half open, he entered into the Chamber, and discovered himself to Mariam: No Madam, cried he, as he drew near her; no Madam, you shall not be judged but by your own conscience, that may possibly convince you of little love to your Husband; but all other crimes, whereof I suspected you are blotted out of my mind by the love I bear you. In fine, whether you be criminal or innocent, you can neither be condemned, nor absolved, but I must submit with you to the judgement which shall be pronounced either for you or against you; and my heart, which takes your part against itself, would be the first exposed to the displeasures which too unjust a rigour prepared for you.  
Herod expressed himself in this manner: and Mariam, though she were a little surprised at his unexpected sight, appeared nevertheless little moved at his approach and discourse: or if she were, it was only with choler and disdain at the presence of a man from whom she had lately received so unworthy usage. In effect, the injury she suffered in seeing herself pressed to answer before her subjects, who were appointed as Judges of her honour and her life, though it were not capable to make her exceed the bounds of moderation, and be outrageous in the absence of her Husband, contrary to what she believed was due to the tye which united them, appeared to her understanding in another form, when she saw before her the cruel man by whom she was exposed to this ignominy: this last affront, and condition wherein she saw herself in an hard and rigorous prison, being joined to the memory of his former displeasures, revived her resentments with a more than ordinary violence, and permitted her not to look upon Herod but as a Dragon coming to devour her: she received his caresses themselves so little conformable to the usage whereof she saw the preparation still before her eyes, for the effects of a black dissimulation, whereof she knew him more capable than all other men all his life long; and in fine, the aversion she had contracted from what was past, being joined to these new subjects of hatred, made Herod more odious and more disdainable than ever he appeared to her before.  
She looked upon him with an Eye full of scorn and indignation, and flying from his arms which he reached towards her: Suffer cruel man, said she, suffer thy justice to take its course: the faces of the Judges which thou hast appointed me, are more supportable than thine to me: and I had rather undergo the bloody Sentence, which by thy orders they shall pronounce against me, than receive any more thy artificial caresses: if thou presentest thyself to me to augment the pain to which thou hast destined me, thou exceedest the limits of all cruelty, and the severest enemies have not aggravated by their presence the last sufferings of those they had condemned to die. Ah! Mariam, replied the Jewish King, with a very passionate action, I come not hither to send thee to thy death; seeing thou canst not be condemned but by a sentence, which will be as destructive to me as to thyself; I come rather to snatch thee from the rigour of those, whom by too prompt a resentment I have armed against my own life rather than thine: I come to let thee know that thou canst not die without Herod, and to tell thee that seeing thou hast some respects left to that tie which ought to unite us until death, thou canst not disdain the life I come to offer thee, without making an attempt upon thy Husband's life.  
And what favour, answered the Queen, interrupting him, what favour dost thou believe thou dost me in leaving me a life, which by thy cruelties thou hast rendered more odious to me a thousand times, than the death which thou hast prepared for me? what punishments are due to this innocent life of mine, if thine contaminated with so many crimes hath hitherto escaped the indignation of Heaven, and whatsoever mine be, by what right wouldst thou have me beholding to thee for it, since thou hast no other right to dispose of it but by usurpation and tyranny?  
These words began to re-kindle Herod's anger, and looking upon the Queen with eyes troubled with the motions of his different passions: Cruel woman, said he, the inhumanities' wherewith thou reproachest me every moment, are not comparable to thine; and by the continual outrages which thou dost me, thou endeavourest to provoke my love, and strain my patience to the uttermost extremities: these inclinations which I have not been able to overcome, what cause soever I had to oppose them, still take thy part, and represent to me that without highly injuring myself first, I cannot execute my just resentments against thee; I conjure thee to abuse them no longer, nor constrain an Husband who loves thee too well, to abandon thee to the rigours of Justice, which will bring us both to our graves.  
He pronounced these words with a very terrible gesture; but the Queen was not affrighted at it, but looking upon him with more disdain than before: Neither thy threats, said she, nor thy caresses shall ever move me, and thy threatenings are more dear to me than the protestations of thy love: thou dost more naturally act this latter part than the former; and there is no necessity for thee to constrain thyself for a person to whom the death which she expects from thy cruelty, will be a thousand times more pleasing than all the proofs of thy affections.  
Thou shalt die then, since 'tis thy will, cried Herod full of fury and transport, thou shalt die, Woman unworthy of the care I took of thy safety, unworthy of my love, and now devoted to the justice of a King, and an Husband, who hath been injured in the most sensible part: I was too weak to interess myself in the conservation of thy life; but now thou hast nothing to ground any hope of it upon, but only thy justification, and the evident proofs of thy innocence. My friends, continued he, turning himself towards them to whom he had given Commission to be her Judges, perform now your charge with all liberty, and do not any longer look upon this woman as the spouse of Your King; but as a woman which hath base and shamefully violated her duty to the Law of God, her own honour, and her Husband's love.  
Having spoken these words, he went out of the Chamber so terrible, that he made all he met in his passage tremble for fear. Only Mariam seemed little moved at it; and when the Judges according to Herod's last command would have examined her, she did not vouchsafe to open her mouth, but only to pray them to be gone, and leave her in quiet. Herod was no sooner returned to his lodgings, but he was visited by Salome and Pheroras, and he had no sooner told them that, which he called the last effect of his weakness, and the last proofs he had received of Mariamnes inflexibility, but the revengeful Salome and Pheroras, being interessed by the envy they had always born to the authority of Mariam, after they had a long time blamed him for the action he had lately done, as ill-besee●ing his dignity, and being contrary to all the laws of prudence, they represented to him as vehemently as they could, that he ought no longer to be negligent; and that if he left so obstinate an enemy any longer in the World, she would infallibly attempt against his life, what she had already attempted, and possibly executed against his honour.  
Herod drunk with rage, gave ear to them but too patiently; and when he had understood that the Queen had refused to answer those who had the charge to examine her, and that they were gone out of the prison without getting one word from her, by the pernicious Counsel of Salome, he commanded to put Sohemus and the Eunuch Philon to the torture, with order to omit no kind of torment to draw out of their mouths a confession capable to condemn the Queen with some form of Justice. Joseph in regard of his birth was not exposed to the rack, but Herod in an hasty rage sent executioners that strangled him the same day in the prison, though he were not convinced of any crime, but of having revealed his Master's secret to Mariam. This sudden execution would have amazed the Jews, if they had not been used to see such actions proceed from their King every day, and if they had not known too well that death was familiar with him upon the least motion of his passions. Alexander moved at the misfortune of her Daughter, as in all likelihood she ought to be, used all means for justification, but she had not Herod's ear, which her enemies had possessed; and by all the power she had over her Daughter she could never oblige her to take any care to verify her innocence, or to be reconciled to her Husband. All the world believed that it had been but willing to have endeavoured it, and as resolute as she was not to seek the friendship of this cruel man, he would never possibly have consented to her death, if the things which happened afterwards had not cruelly contributed unto it. I am very unwilling, Sir, pursued Arsanes, looking pitifully upon Tyridates, to let you know the part you have in the death of this great Princess, and if I could without disobeying you, and without varying from the truth which you will understand from other mouths, I would spare you the displeasure you may receive from thence. Make an end, said Tyridates with a deadly look, my grief is not in a condition to receive any augmentation by the particularities of thy discourse; and since Mariam is gone out of the World, the ways whereby she went cannot at all change my condition.  
I will tell you then, since it is your pleasure, pursued Arsanes, that before they put Sohemus and Eunuch Philon to the torment, Salome gave express order to those who had the charge of the business to examine them and press them by torments, upon what had passed betwixt the Queen and Prince Tyridates, believing that if she could represent that a little to Herod 's memory, she should carry him to any thing she would desire. Her orders were punctually executed, and the two men were fearfully tormented; but whatsoever they made Sohemus suffer to make him reveal the favours which they pretended he had received of the Queen, whereby he had been obliged to betray his Master's secret, they could not draw one word out of his mouth, but what tended to the glory and advantage of Mariam. He confessed that out of weakness, or out of compassion which he had of the miseries of that Princess, he had permitted himself so far as to discover to her the cruel orders which Herod had given him, and that he never intended to put them in execution; but when they questioned him concerning his or Joseph's love to the Queen, he denied it to them with so much constancy, and answered them with so much candour and resolution, that they easily judged both the Queen and himself to be innocent by his answers.  
The Eunuch, though inferior to him in strength of body and courage, endured the first torments with resolution enough; and having nothing to say of the Queen to this purpose, but what served for her justification, he kept to the naked truth, whatsoever pains they made him suffer; but at last being examined upon what had passed between the Queen and Tyridates; and the torments being renewed with more cruelty than before, upon the solicitation of Salome, he was not able any longer to resist them, but said to those which tormented him, that if they would give him a little respite, he would declare all he knew concerning that business.  
The torments being ceased, and those to whom this execution was appointed, being come near to him, he told them that during Herod's voyage to Rhodes, Tyridates had seen the Queen by night, and in a disguise in the Castle, where she was kept under the custody of Sohemus; and that upon the night of that day whereon he was besieged by Herod in the Temple, and saved by the interposition of Sosius, he came back alone to Jerusalem into the Palace, into the Chamber of Cleophe, where by his own means he had seen the Queen secretly, and had some time of conversation with her.  
The cruel Salome transported with joy at this confession, caused his torments to be reodubled, to make him confess more; and by this news which she carried to Herod she wounded him to the very heart. He made such exclamations as testified his grief, and abandoned himself in all things to transport and fury, finding, as he thought, more truth in the accusations they made against Mariam, than he had desired; he felt himself violently seized upon by a displeasure which all his prudence and policy could not dissemble. Salome thought it best to represent to him that he ought not to suffer himself to fall into such violent passions for an ingrateful and perfidious Woman: he had no ears to hear her consolations as he had to hear her Counsels, and flying out into the access of rage at every moment: Bestow, said he to her, thy unprofitable comforts elsewhere, and let my grief perform the most agreeable effect that ever it could produce; I know that Mariam is ingrateful, that Mariam hath betrayed me, and that Mariam must perish: but I know likewise, that I cannot destroy what I have so dearly loved, without devoting myself to death. Mariam shall die without doubt, if the accusations of the Eunuch be true, and if her disloyalty prove real, I will no longer hearken to what love shall allege in her favour: but this is infallible, that Mariam cannot die, without bringing me to the grave, or if I remain in the world after her, it will only be to pass my days in dreadful horrors.  
Whilst he thus tormented himself he redoubled the poor Eunuches tortures; but if he had weakness enough to declare what he knew, he had not so much villainy as to invent any thing against the Queen's innocence; so that the executioners being weary of tormenting him, were constrained to leave him at repose. Presently after Salome sent them to Sohemus, to whom they proposed the same interrogatories: he resisted the cruelty of these tortures much longer than the Eunuch had done; but when they pressed him upon Philon's disposition, he varied a little in his answers; and the Eunuch being brought before him, and having maintained what he had disposed in his presence; the unfortunate Sohemus not being able any longer to resist the truth, and perceiving well that all his evasions would be useless after the Eunuches deposition, which he could no longer contradict, lifting pitifully his eyes to Heaven, I plainly see, said he, that I must die, and by the compassion which I have had of the misfortunes of a great Princess, I see myself brought to my end: God is my witness that I little regret the loss of my life; but I cannot have any comfort in my death, if by our weakness we advance the loss of the most virtuous and innocent Queen that ever was. She without doubt hath hastened Josep 's death and mine by the discourse she bathe made to the King her Husband, but all the resentment I might have for that, or the horror of all the tortures they can present me with, shall never make me speak against the knowledge I have of her innocence, and admirable virtue.  
After this discourse seeing himself pressed afresh by torments, he confirmed the deposition of the Eunuch, as to the two interviews of the Queen and Prince Tyridates in the Castle where he had her under his custody, and in the Queen's lodging at your departure from Jerusalem; but in his confession he excused the Queen, as his conscience obliged him to do, and protested with Oaths sacred to the Jews, that as for the first interview in the Castle, it was totally without the Queen's knowledge, who forced you away from thence, without ever granting you the liberty to return: and for the last, the Queen only consented to it to entreat you never to see her more: and that both in the one and the other there was so much innocence, and reservedness, that Herod himself, if he had been there present, could have found no cause of complaint in the most criminal passage of it. Alas! cried Tyridates at this passage, with how much truth, Sohemus' mightest thou protest this; and how advantageous had it been for that innocent Princess, had Herod himself received with his own ears those testimonies of her virtue?  
Whatsoever misery they made Sohemus suffer, after this confession, pursued Arsanes, they could get no more out of his mouth, and this was enough for the destruction of the unfortunate Mariam. Herod no sooner understood the unhappy confirmation of the Eunuches disposition, but he totally abandoned himself to his rage; and whether it were that he suspected something more particularly offensive to himself in these secret interviews, or that he found in this discovery occasion enough to condemn her, letting loose the reins to the impetuosity of his jealousy: Let her die, cried he, addressing himself to Salome, Pheroras, and his Ministers of Justice, to whom he was accustomed to commit the like employments; let her die disloyal Woman as she is, let her die like an adulteress as she is, take her out of the World without any farther delay.  
I know not whether Herod pronounced this sentence with a perfect deliberation, or whether he thought he should not find so ready obedience to a command made with too much precipitation; but however it was, he had hardly spoken, but the Enemies of Mariam to whom by the rigour of her destiny he unluckily addressed himself, ran or rather flew to hasten the end of her days.  
Herod out of the excess of his grief, or rather of his rage, had thrown himself upon his bed, where making more reflection upon the injury he supposed he had received from Mariam, than upon the bloody orders he lately had given against her, entombed himself in such sorrow as rendered him incapable of dreaming upon what past.  
Salome who was wholly devoid of pity, and her party, taking their time for the Execution of their cruel intentions, employed it with so much heat and eagerness, that the same day all things were prepared for the death of that deplorable Princess, and they went into the Prison to give her notice of it, and conduct her to it. They did not so much as give the Princess Alexandra her Mother time to bid her adieu; neither did they permit her faithful Servants, and those whom she had loved best, to take their last leave of her; nor had she the liberty to take the last sight of the children she left in the World, as so tender an age that they were not yet capable to understand the loss they received.  
Her cruel Enemies fearing lest that Herod should return to his right mind, and making a rational reflection upon what was done, should recall the inhuman sentence which he had pronounced, hastened all things against all forms and gave no time to love and reason to produce the effects they feared. Poor Sohemus and the miserable Eunuch were first sacrificed, and Salome sent Executioners to strangle them in the Prison. They say Sohemus died like a man of courage, and protested the Queen's Virtue and Innocence to his last gasp, for whose death he expressed more sorrow than for his own.  
Those which went into the Prison with the Queen to prepare her to die, reported afterwards, that she scarcely changed her countenance at their sad discourse, and that she received news capable to daunt the most hardy spirits, with such an assurance, as shamed her Enemies, and confirmed them to their confusion, in the opinion they themselves had of her Virtue. Nothing of passion appeared either in her countenance or discourse, she never sp●ke better sense or with more temper, and there proceeded out of her mouth, neither complaint nor word which might make one judge that she went to die unwillingly; nay, they who sometimes saw her passionate against Herod's inhumanity, when she was provoked by the death of her near kindred, found her much more moderate as to her own, and observed no new resentment in her for this last effect of his cruelty.  
She only said to those who were present at her last actions: Tell Herod, that 'tis this day that I begin to receive a good office from him, and that I accept the present, which he hath pleased to send me, and with more joy and acknowledgement, than ever I did all the testimonies of his love. I can nevertheless protest before the God which we adore (and I owe this justification to my memory and the blood from which I am descended) that the repugnance which his cruelties have caused in me, either to his manners or person, never inclined me to the least thought of offending against my own honour or the duty of a Wife: Tell him that the blood of Joseph and Sohemus, which he hath shed, will cry for vengeance against him: and that if I be culpable at my death, it is because, that by my imprudence, I have caused the ruin of those innocent persons: As for Tyridates, I thank God, I feel no remorse of conscience that can accuse me of the least fault against my Husband, and I hold no other thoughts for his person but of acknowledgement and esteem as due to his virtue: Tell him, that I beseech him, if I may beseech him at my death, that he would stop the current of his cruelties with me, and look with more affection and pity upon the Children which Heaven hath bestowed upon us, upon whom the rage of our Enemies may extend itself, if he do not remedy it. After this supplication, I pardon him for my death with all my heart, and I pardon Salome too for it, though she might have contented herself to hasten the end of my days without blasting my reputation; and I go, without regret, to render an account to God for my actions, whether criminal or innocent.  
After these words, which drew streams of tears from them who heard them, she gave some small orders for the recompense of those persons which had served her; and having settled her mind in that respect, she kneeled down in a little Oratory which she had in her Chamber, where she prayed with an action nothing relishing of the world.  
After she had bestowed a quarter of an hour in this pious employment, she returned with a much more cheerful countenance than before; and after she had given the last embrace to her inconsolate Maids, who melted into tears at her knees, turning herself towards them who waited to conduct her to her death; Let us go my friends, said she, 'tis time to part; Hyrcanus and Aristobulus call for me, and I must go to find out those Illustrious Asmoneans, who through the care which Herod hath taken, preserve a place in Heaven for me.  
With these words she gave her hand herself to him who was to lead her; and having again, with a look full or sweetness and Majesty, taken her last leave of those who were about her: she went out of the Chamber, and passed into the Court, where the Tragical preparation was made for her death.  
Dispense with me Sir, from telling you the last particulars, it may be enough, and more than enough for you to know, that upon that mortal Scaffold, the most beautiful head was separated from the fairest body in the world; and the most virtuous, the most innocent, and the most courageous of all Women lost her life, by the horrid command of a Monster, thirsty after Illustrious Blood, whereof he sacrificed the fair remains to the rage of its Enemies. The Sun being at the latter end of his course, gave light unwillingly, as I believe, to this sad adventure, and the universal nature would have put on mourning, if it had been capable of sense, for the greatest loss it could ever suffer.  
These last words of Arsanes were interrupted with sighs and sobs; and not being able to go farther, to finish what he had to relate concerning the remorse of Herod, and some accidents which followed Mariamne's death, he cast his eyes upon Tyridates, to see what effect the conclusion of this pitiful narration had wrought upon him. He was amazed, and Marcellus too, that there proceeded not one word from his mouth, nor sigh from his breast; but their amazement ceased, when after they had looked near upon him, they saw that he was fallen into a second swoon much deeper than the former.  
Marcellus being touched to the quick with grief, both by the pitiful relation of Mariamne's death; whose eminent virtue and admirable beauty he had heard a thousand times highly extolled; and at the condition wherein he saw the unfortunate Tyridates, was hardly capable of giving him either succour or consolation: and whilst Arsanes, with the rest of Tyridates his Servants that were left in the house, took care by all possible remedies to fetch the Prince out of his swoon, he sat by him with his arms across, and lifting up his eyes to Heaven, as it were to accuse Fortune for the mis●haps to which she exposes virtuous persons, he made sad reflections upon the misery of men.  
Tyridates came not to himself again a long time, and the greatest part of the night was past before he recovered his senses. Marcellus seeing himself very far from the repose and comfort that was promised him, did not so much as seek for any in that desolate house; and out of the excellency of his nature did so far interess himself in Tyridates' misfortune, that for a while he lost the memory of his own.  
At last, after a great deal of pains taken with him, Tyridates opened his eyes, which he turned every way, in such a manner as caused those that stood about him to judge sadly of it. Marcellus called him by his name divers times, and seeing that he did not answer him but with dying looks: Tyridates, said he to him, will you not call to mind that you are a man? and more than that, that you are a man of courage? Afflictions may touch you, but they should not make you lose either your knowledge or your reason.  
Tyridates made no reply to these words of Marcellus; but only after he had tumbled a few turns upon the bed, like a person full of agony, opening his mouth to give passage to a voice interrupted with sobs: O Mariam, said he, you are dead; and more than that, 'tis Tyridates who hath hastened your death! this was it that remained to conclude his deplorable destiny with an end conformable to the beginnings of his calamities; and it was not aggravation enough to the last misfortunes of Tyridates, that Mariam should die, but that Mariam should die for Tyridates his fault. I have brought you to your Grave, O Queen, whom I have so religiously adored, and I have not a life precious enough to sacrifice to your memory in change for yours.  
He s●opt at these words, and recollected himself to receive the favourable death which he desired, and whereof he already felt the approaches, whilst Marcellus endeavoured to divert his grief. Tyridates had no more ears for his discourse, nor eyes for the objects which presented themselves before him, nor thoughts for things of this world. Never possibly did Love produce a more excellent and more marvellous effect, than it wrought in this Prince; and by the means of his love alone, his grief served him in stead of a Sword, Poison, Precipices; and without requiring any external help, death which was desired by him, and is to be wished for by unfortunate Men like him, offered itself to his assistance, and presented itself to him at a time when he received it with a joy which in appearance could have no residence in his soul.  
He perceived the approach of it, and took notice of it, and giving it entertainment worthy of the good office it did him: O death, said he, with a lower and more feeble voice than ordinary, O death, how willingly do I receive thee, and though I ought possibly to refuse thy help at a time when some remainder of life is necessary to me to tear out the soul of Mariamne's Executioner with mine own hands, yet how dear is thy succour, and thy coming favourable to me! O Mariam, continued he a little after, receive this soul which I render you as the only reparation I can make you for having contributed to your death: It takes its flight towards you, unworthy as it is, to present its self before you, and in what condition soever you be, the purity of yours will never be offended by the last gift I make you of it.  
These were the last words he spoke, and a little after, grief giving its last assaults, seized upon his heart in such a manner, that that part which lives first, and dies last, was not capable of sustaining the functions necessary for the conservation of life. He only looked a farewell to Marcellus and Arsanes, and a little after, his eyes were covered with darkness, his speech failed him, and all his strength having totally forsaken him, he remained cold and pale between Arsanes his arms; not in a swoon like those whereinto he had formerly fallen, but really dead; a death which being neither violent, nor natural, but participating of both, did punctually accomplish Thrasillus his prediction; a death which freed him for ever from the more tedious and cruel deaths which he had incessantly found in the memory of Mariam. Happy Man in his destiny, that he did not survive the person for whom he had only lived; and glorious in his end, for having given in his death so brave an example of the most pure and real passion that ever any soul was inflamed withal.    
The End of the Fifth Part.   

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA: OR, Love's Masterpiece. PART VI.  

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

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

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

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

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA: OR, Love's Masterpiece. PART VI.  

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

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

HYMEN 'S PRAELUDIA: OR, Loves Masterpiece. PART. VII.  

LIB. I.  
ARGUMENT.  
Candace and Elisa bestow a second Visit upon the Princess Olympia, and find her in a very hopeful way of recovery. At their desire, she goes on with her Story, and acquaints them that the fair Stranger whose life she had saved in the desart-Island, is Ariobarzanes, Brother to the King of Armenia. She relates their deplorable Condition in that place, and the strange manner of their Delivery out of it. Ariobarzanes saves Adallas 's life, and is like to lose his own by Adallas 's Jealousy; but is dismissed with a strict prohibition never to set foot in Thrace, nor to see Olympia. Adallas being detained in Cyprus by his wounds, sends into Thrace to know the Condition of his Kingdom Intelligence is brought that his Kingdom is invaded, and almost quite lost. Adallas, hastening homewards, is hindered by a Tempest; but after a long stay for a Wind, he puts to Sea again, and, near the Coast of Thrace, meets some of his Subjects, who inform him, That by the incomparable Valour of a Stranger, named Ariamenes, now their General, the remainder of his Dominions was preserved, and the progress of his Enemies retarded. Adallas understanding the Coast to be clear, continues his Voyage, and arrives at Byzantium.  
THE fair Princess of the Parthians, and the beautiful Queen of Ethiopia, had conceived so much esteem and amity for the Princess Olympia, that they could not permit her to continue long in the trouble wherein they had seen her; without disposing themselves to render her a second Visit as soon as might be, and to use all possible means to administer some ease and consolation unto her. This was no slight effect of Olympia's excellent qualities, to have produced in so small a time this interest for her Fortune, in the minds of two persons so strongly and so justly prepossessed with their own; and 'tis certain that Elisa and Candace had cause enough absolutely to employ their memory upon the consideration of their own mishaps, and in the care of their own affairs; but their souls were of the most exquisite temper, and they were not so totally taken up with the natural sense of their own misfortunes, but that there was room left still for compassion towards a person of Olympia's birth and merit. Besides, by that affection which bound them up to her interests, they had given entrance to a curiosity, which upon the score of a less extraordinary person, and more common adventures, it would not have easily found in their spirits; and they could not call to mind the admirable beginning of that Princess' Fortunes, and the passage whereat her Relation had been interrupted, without being moved with a great desire to understand the Sequel, which according to apparences could not but be composed of very strange Accidents; and in particular to know the name of the Unknown, which Olympia had at her Tongue's end, when she was forced to break off the Thread of her Discourse.  
This Reason, though indeed more weak than the former, made them resolve to steal that Evening from Agrippa and Cornelius, whose Visits they much feared, to give it entirely, if they could possibly, to this afflicted Princess; and upon this design, having taken a light Supper together in Elisa's lodging, they charged the Maids that waited upon them, to say, That the Princess of the Parthians being a little indisposed, they were gone to Bed together, not doubting but by these means to secure themselves from being interrupted by persons full of discretion, and well-versed in all the Rules of Civility. After they had given this order, wherein, in regard of the Quality of the persons whom it concerned, they observed a great deal of Circumspection; they went into Olympia's little Chamber, and, as the gods would have it, they found her in a better Condition than they hoped.  
This Princess, who naturally had as gallant a spirit as any person of her sex, and who solidly relied upon a real virtue, and an absolute resignation to the will of the gods, had made a reflection upon the transports wherinto the first ebullitions of her Passion had cast her, and by an endeavour not very usual in a spirit strongly prepossessed, she had found room to combat with that cross-opinion, which at first had made such a disorder in her soul; contrary apparences to the return of her repose, had very much tormented her, and she had found cause enough in Ericia's report, to suspect the infidelity of the person which she loved; but other considerations, and other more important remembrances, whereby she had reason to be confirmed in a quite contrary opinion, had powerfully taken his part; and if they could not cure her of those cruel impressions which those apparences had wrought upon her, they had at least disposed her to seek without precipitation a more evident clearing up of the Truth, and in expectation of the knowledge which the next day might afford her, to incline her spirit rather towards hope, than towards a deadly fear; the first effects whereof had been so contrary to the quiet of her mind, the health of her body, and her ordinary moderation. Certainly few spirits would have so readily submitted to the Empire of reason; but indeed few spirits were like to hers, and in all the course of her life she had given examples of her gallantry, wherein her constancy and admirable resolution had no less appeared than in this last Adventure. By this little calm which she gave her mind, her body likewise received ease; and in fine, she was so sensible of it, that when the Princesses came into her Chamber, her Fever was gone.  
They were very joyful to understand by Ericia, as they approached the Bed, this change of her health; and they had no sooner opened their mouth to inquire of it, but the fair Princess looking upon them with a much more composed countenance than before: My fair Princesses, said she, I have had a great Combat against those cruel apparences which hurried me to despair; and if I have not gotten the Victory over them, at least I have disposed my spirit to wait for a more certain assurance of my mishap, before it fall into those extremities from which I should hardly keep it, if I had received any confirmation of it. Whatsoever report they have made me of the beauty of that person, whom the Prince, which I have loved so well, accompanies; and though I have been told of their mutual Caresses, I can hardly believe, that a Prince in whom I have observed so much Virtue, and who by so many great and dangerous difficulties which he hath gone through with an admirable Courage, hath given me such fair proofs of his Love, could in the time which is past, since our separation, fall so lightly into an infidelity, so contraryto the sense of that sublime Virtue which he practices. And though he could become unfaithful, I doubt whether he would come to show his perfidiousness in a place where certainly he had hope to find me, where I expected him, and where I would bid him seek me, if it should please the gods that he still continues faithful. I would persuade myself to imagine that Ericia 's eyes were deceived, or that the person which she saw him embrace, is related to him by some ancient Amity, which might engage him in other Ties than those of Love▪ And however it be, I will still expect from Heaven, to which I have absolutely abandoned myself, what it shall Decree concerning my destiny, and not hasten my misfortune by a promptitude, which might make me commit such faults, as possibly might be hard to repair.  
The two Princesses extremely approved of Olympia's resolution; confirming themselves more and more in the esteem they had for her; and whilst Elisa sitting down in a Chair which was at the Beds-head, felt her pulse with one of her fair hands, Candace being sat upon the Bedside, My dear Princess, said she, You do sufficiently assure us both by all your Discourses, and by all the marks which you give us of your thoughts, that your Virtue is not ordinary, and those gods to whom you have abandoned yourself with so much Courage and Piety, must needs be cruel and unjust, if by an unfortunate success they should deceive the confidence you have in their goodness. I confess, that upon the like occasion, I should do the like, if it were possible: And I do so approve of your Resolution, That I do almost certainly promise you the most happy success you can desire. I have the same hope that you have, added the Princess Elisa, and 'tis upon a ground very far from Envy, that I foresee that, of us three, I only shall remain unfortunate. I have some confidence, replied Candace, for you in your Fortune, and my heart tells me that in a short time your destiny will not be such as your fear suggests. Alas! replied the Princess sighing, How full of flattery are you, my fair Queen? And how easy is it to judge, that Compassion puts this Discourse into your mouth, rather than the belief of telling me the Truth? We see every day, said Olympia, Events so little conformable to our expectation, that I shall not be surprised, when) in extraordinary Fortunes, as ours are, I shall see Accidents happen, which would seem admirable in a life which never varied from the ordinary course: And I will tell you, Madam, according to my real belief, That I, despair no more upon your account, than upon our own, and I would not for a good value, lose the part I pretend to take in the joy which you shall receive by the recovery of your losses.  
Elisa only shook her Shoulders at this Discourse: And Candace, who desired to change the Scene, to enter upon Olympia 's Adventures; But you, forgetful Princess, said the to her, who are instructed in the least particularities of our Lives, would you have us be eternally ignorant of the Sequel of yours? And do you not remember, that you left us in a part of your Relation capable to torment less curious persons? Shall we any longer be deprived of the knowledge of the unknown, whose Name you were about to tell us, when you were interrupted? He of whom we talk so much, and of whose fidelity we assure you, not knowing yet who he is. And lastly, Is it not just, that we should be acquainted with your life, that we may have more reason and knowledge to take that interest in it we do? If any remainders of your indisposition, or pre-occupation of spirit doth not permit you to be so soon in a condition to give us this satisfaction, be pleased that Ericia may save you the labour, and that we may understand the rest of your Adventures from her mouth, seeing, as I think, I heard you say, that she is not ignorant of any particular. I find myself in a good condition enough, replied Olympia, to finish what I began some days ago: And though Ericia be as well acquainted with the Accidents of my life, as I myself; yet I shall better express the thoughts of mine own mind, than she can; & I should be sorry, that you should have received from any other mouth than mine, that which I owe to the Compassion which makes you take so much interest in my Affairs, and to the real esteem I have for you.  
Upon these words, the Princesses told her what order they had taken not to be interrupted in this Narration, as they had been in the former: And after they had conveniently seated themselves for a long Audience, Olympia, after a short interval of silence, continued the Story of her life in these terms.  

The Continuation of the History of Olympia  
MY Narration was interrupted, as I think, when I made you the Relation of the unexpected Adventure, whereby the fair unknown had acquainted himself with the secret thoughts of my Soul; and from the knowledge he had of them, took the boldness to discover his to me: I had declared to you the trouble of my spirit at so unexpected a business, and the confusion wherinto I was fallen by the imprudent discovery of that, which possibly, had it not been for this accident, I had kept private all my life; and the repugnance I had to receive Declarations of Love from a man, who, though he were very amiable, and already very dear to me, was then but three days old in my acquaintance, and I had repeated some part of our Conversation, by which you perceived that the unknown, having judged by my Discourse that inequality which I believed to be between his birth and mine, made up a good part of the difficulties he had to struggle with, was resolved to let me understand the Truth, and had already opened his mouth to tell me who he was. 'Tis certain (answered Candace interrupting her) That the last words of your Discourse were, I am ,— and upon that I am ,— which as you may believe, left us in an extreme trouble, the Arrival of Cornelius hindered your Progress.  
I will proceed then, continued the Princess, with the some words at which it was cut off, and will tell you, that after our first communication, whereby the unknown had sufficiently discovered his thoughts, continuing his Discourse with the same boldness, I am, said he, extracted from a Noble blood, enough to countenance my confession without blushing at it, and if I had been born of any other than Princes, who have always worn a Crown, I should have stifled those audacious thoughts which have aimed so high as you. My Name is Ariobarzanes, my Family is the Royal House of Armenia, Artaxus King of that Realm, is my Brother, our Father was King Artabazus, who lost his life in the Prisons of Cleopatra.  
Elisa, who by reason of the nearness of Armenia to her Father's Kingdoms, and the Alliance which had been between their Families, had heard of the Shipwreck of Ariobarzanes, and Arsinoe, which was noised throughout all Asia, and according to the general opinion, believed them to be dead, holding up her hand, and staying Olympia at the beginning of her Discourse, What? said she, Is the fair unknown, of whom you have discoursed so much to us, who hath merited your Love, and whom you have seen to day in Alexandria, Ariobarzanes Prince of Armenia; who, as 'tis known all over Asia, being Shipwracked with the Princess Arsinoe his Sister, hath passed for dead till now, in the opinion of the whole World? The very same, replied Olympia; and that so famous Shipwreck which exposed that Prince, and the Princess his Sister to the mercy of the waves, happened at the same time, and almost in the same place, that ours did. I believe that Arsinoe, perished in the pitiless waters; but Ariobarzanes being more strong, and more favoured by Heaven, was, by the assistance of a Planck which he had laid hold of, carried upon the Rock where we were, and when he was ready to exspire, he received of us those assistances that were necessary for him, as I have related to you. Ah! without doubt answered Elisa, the Reputation of that Prince 's former years, is very conformable to the Relation you have made of him; and when he parted from Armenia with his Sister to go to Rome to wait upon Augustus, he passed, in the common Report, as well for the handsomeness of body, as the qualities of the mind, for an admirable Person; and the Princess his Sister, for one of the rarest Beauties of the World. Thus much Fame hath spread as far as our Country, and I shall interess myself more than I have done in the Adventures of a Prince, whose destiny I regretted upon the common Report. I am very joyful, replied Olympia, That a Description, which I possibly made with a little too much Passion, is authorized by your Testimony, which is very considerable to me, and I shall more freely enlarge myself upon the excellent qualities of Ariobarzanes, where I shall be obliged to speak of them, since that Fame hath already given you some knowledge of them.  
I will tell you then, to return to my Narration, That it was no small satisfaction to me to see that Fortune had so much favoured my wishes in the birth of a man, whom she had caused me to love before I knew him; and that Ericia, who presently cast her eyes upon my face, told me afterwards, that she saw in a moment all the marks of Joy depainted there, so that she did not doubt but that I was very sensibly moved with it. I will add to this likewise, That though this Discourse of Ariobarzanes did not seem very conformable to Truth, and might, not without some reason, have been suspected of Fiction in the mouth of an amorous and interessed person; 'tis certain for all that, that I did not ponder what credit I should give to him, nor ever imagined that there was any baseness in a man, whom I could not believe to be capable of any thing unworthy; or rather I will tell you, That his Noble, Sublime and truly Royal Garb, and whatsoever I had observed till then in his Actions, so strongly confirmed his Discourse in a mind where inclination did not slightly take his part, that I had no difficulty to persuade myself that he was a King's Son, and born with all the advantages of fortune which I could wish might accompany Nature.  
This agreeable surprise held me a while in silence, and in a posture which signified some confusion. The Prince perceived it, and, according to the example of Lovers, finding an occasion of fear in every thing, Can it be possible, said he, being very much moved, that the knowledge of my Name and Birth, should disadvantage me with you? And hoping to remove an obstacle of Glory and Fortune, have I created one myself? Is the Royal blood of Armenia any way odious to you or yours? or rather, O gods! Is it the want of a Crown, which the privilege of Birthright hath bestowed upon my Elder Brother, that puts me into too mean a condition to raise my desires to the glory of serving you? Ah! if it be a Crown I want (as it is probable that the honour of acquiring you, aught to be ordained for some great King) I find myself to have Courage enough to hope for that from my Sword, which Fortune hath refused me; and the desire I have to render myself worthy of you, will make me possibly to surmount that, which I should never attain to, if I had any other Object in my Erterprises.  
As he spoke these words, a blush mounted into his face, which made him appear more beautiful than ordinary in my eyes; and desiring not to leave him in an opinion, which according to my humour did a little injure me: I perceive nothing (said I) in the knowledge you have given me of your Name and Birth, which can be disadvantageous to you; and the want of a Crown in such a Prince as you, and descended as you are from Royal Persons, is no deficiency which can render you contemptible in my thoughts. (You are, contived I with a blush, which sufficiently signified my confusion) such as I desired you should be, to render those infirmities partly excusable which Surprise, or Accident, made you acquainted with, and which, possibly you had never understood from my mouth, but by the effect of that destiny, which as you say, acts in us after an extraordinary manner; but you and I are such in the estate of our present condition, that a particular esteem can serve for nothing but to render us the more miserable; and persons, whose death in all probability is so near at hand, cannot lay foundations of Amity but in an unseasonable time.  
Ariobarzanes sighed at this Discourse, and looking upon me with an eye, which made me judge that this menace of our death more strongly afflicted him for fear of mine, than upon the consideration of his own: Our destiny, said he, is in the hand of the gods, and possibly for the preservation of so precious a life as yours, they will do something extraordinary; but though we had no hope of that, yet I should esteem myself superlatively happy, and much more obliged to this effect of your goodness, than to that which caused you to render your pitiful assistances to this dying body, if you would own as yours the remainder off my days, what length soever the gods shall prescribe to them, and permit me to hope, That if by their help we escape out of the danger which threatens us, you will not disdain Vows full of the same respects we owe to them, and suffer the glorious Ariobarzanes, to render his last breath in the occasion and the glory of serving you. I conjure you to it, continued he, embracing my knees with an action all composed of passion, by the same pity which you may desire of Heaven for your own misfortune, and protest to you before the Celestial Powers, that it can never be employed in a greater necessity, nor for a person who will acknowledge it with greater veneration and fidelity.  
I confess that my inclination did so effectually assist his words, that I could not but be touched with them, and I had not the power to dissemble it so well as I desired, and possibly aught to have done. I continued a while without reply, and at last beginning to speak, without raising my eyes to his face; You are sufficiently acquainted with my thoughts, said I, contrary to my design, so that there is no necessity of any farther Declaration; and you know enough to make you believe, that neither your person, nor your services can be disagreeable to me. You would be unjust, if you should desire any more, or pretend that I should determine any farther of myself, as long as there shall be any persons in the World to whom I ought to leave the disposing of me. I am more happy a thousand times, replied he, than I deserved, or durst to hope; and I should render myself much more unworthy of your goodness, if I did not, as I ought, receive a favour which I can never sufficiently acknowledge; but I plainly perceive that our present danger, if it threatened none but me, is not the greatest misfortune I have to encounter with; and by what I have heard of your Story, and the cause of your flight, I sufficiently foresee, that the person to whom Heaven hath left some lawful power to dispose of you, will never consent that any other should raise his hopes to a Fortune, which against the Laws and order of Nature he pretends to for himself. This difficulty, answered I, very nimbly, aught to divert you from your resolution, and you will be the more comforted, if in our approaching death, you lose nothing but hopes, which with any probability you could not conceive. Ah! Madam, replied Ariobarzanes, very much moved, Do not imagine that this difficulty can make me lose my Courage; you shall see me Conquer far greater, if you be pleased to grant your consent; and all the most powerful and dangerous obstacles shall not be able to terrify me, if you do not oppose me. You ought not to hope, said I, that I should be favourable to you contrary to my Duty; and the esteem which I may have for you, shall never make me do any thing unhandsome, or not conformable to the Rules prescribed to persons of such a Birth as mine.  
Ariobarzanes seemed a little astonished at this Discourse; and stood a while, as if he studied for terms to express himself; but at last breaking silence with a very passionate action, If the respect, which I shall equally preserve with my life, said he, did permit me in the least to contest with your thoughts, I would take the liberty to tell you, that by the usage you have received from him, and the horrible intentions he had expressed to you, the King your Brother, hath absolutely lost the privilege which Nature gave him to dispose of you; and if yourself had had a design to leave it to him, you would not have run the hazard of mortal dangers to avoid his Tyranny. In fine, If he may, and must dispose of you, he will never do it but in his own favour; and you will see yourself reduced to the necessity, either of consenting to that horrible Marriage which he proposes to you, or denying his power to dispose of you. I found sufficiently convincing Reasons in Ariobarzanes' Discourse; yet it being a Subject upon which I was always prepared, I did not continue without a Reply. It will be very lawful, said I, for me to oppose Adallas' will, as long as he shall have any design to be my Husband; and in this resolution I shall always have Courage enough to suffer this death to which I am already sufficiently exposed, but I will never take the liberty to choose a Husband myself; and I must wait the leisure of Heaven for the change of my Brother's humour, or some other condition of my Affairs which may give me that liberty. I will be contented to wait with you, Madam, replied the Prince, with a very submissive Action; and I shall be but too happy, if you permit me to engage my life upon the account of those changes. I know very well, that the happiness which my Ambition aims at, is of too high a value to be attained by ordinary difficulties; and it shall be without a murmuring thought, that I will attend upon the effects of your pity to the last period of my breath; use me as a criminal, if you see me in any impatience contrary to this resignation; and in the mean time, if you be pleased to think well of it, and if Heaven permits us to get out of this Island by some unexpected succour, let me have the honour to wait upon you to the place of your intended Retreat, and there let me regulate my life, according to the Orders which you shall please to give me, and seek some means, though with the greatest hazard, to work a change in the King your Brother's intentions to my advantage, or to see some change in yours, if his be unalterable.  
My Relation would be too long, if I should repeat to you all the words we had together. In brief, I found the Discourse, and the Propositions of Ariobarzanes, too just to be contradicted; and we resolved at last, that if the gods should send us any means to save ourselves, I should continue my journey to the Court of the King of Cilicia my Uncle, whither Ariobarzanes should accompany me, and there leave me at liberty to consider what he might merit of me by his Services, whilst he endeavoured by all manner of ways to gain upon the spirit of the King my Brother, and employed all manner of powers, even that of Augustus himself, to cause him to consent to the design he had to serve me. But because Ariobarzanes knew the deadly hatred which the King of Cilicia had against his Family, for some Cruelty that the King of Armenia his Brother, had exercised against the Princes his Nephews; and was not ignorant, that in that Court he could not be in any security. We purposed that he should enter into Cilicia, al' incognito, and from that moment should conceal from the persons of our Company, his name and condition under that of Ariamenes. This was so much the easier, because he had not as yet discovered himself to any, but to us; and there was little danger of his being known, after the Report of his Shipwreck had been so long current.  
After that we had spent some time in fixing these Resolutions, I desired Ariobarzanes to acquaint me by what Adventure he had been cast upon that Rock, in the condition wherein we found him; which he did in a few words, which I will not repeat to you; for in brief, his Relation contained nothing else, but only that the King Artaxus his Brother, having received a Command from Augustus, to send him to Rome, with the Princess Arsinoe his Sister, to be educated there with a great many other Princes; and not daring to disobey that Order, caused him to embark with the Princess his Sister to go that Voyage, which at first was prosperous enough, but at last upon the Coast of Cilicia, their Vessel was overtaken with the same Tempest that cast away ours, and so battered by the impetuousness of the storm, that he believed himself only to have escaped from the fury of the waves, by means of a Plank which he laid hold on, and the violence of the waves which drove him upon the Sand. That passage of his Discourse which he most insisted upon, was, concerning the Shipwreck of the Princess Arsinoe, whose loss, after he had made us a short description of her rare qualities, he deplored with so many tears, and so many strong sensible signs of grief, that I could not forbear weeping, and bewailing with him the loss of so extraordinary a person, whom he had so dearly loved. He protested to me divers times, that nothing but Love, which tookfull possession of his Soul at first sight, was able to counterpoise his grief; and without the assistance of that passion which made itself Mistress of his heart above all the rest that had any room there, he should scarcely have had strength of spirit enough to defend himself against this affliction.  
After I had endeavoured to give him some part of the Consolation which was necessary for him upon this occasion, he described to me the birth of his Love, which, he protested to me, was form in his Soul the first moment of our first interview; and in the declaration he made to me of all his most particular thoughts he expressed himself with such a grace, and was so skilful in taking his advantages where he found me weakest, that I perceived the fatal inclination I had for him to be augmented by this Relation.  
Why should I detain you any longer upon this passage? I consented before we parted from that place, that he should love and serve me; and I permitted him to hope, either for those few days which in probability were left us, or for a longer time, if Heaven should please to give it us; that I would do all that my Duty could handsomely permit me to do, to express my acknowledgement and esteem to him. He seemed to be contented with this hope which I gave him, and ever since that moment he continued to serve me with so many marks of real Love, so much discretion and respect, and so much grace in all his actions, that I still found more fuel to increase my flame. And yet he lived so with me before the persons of my Retinue, that no body could find any ground to suspect his real thoughts; only Ericia, who was acquainted with mine too, had knowledge of them. I confess at last, by his admirable parts, and handsome way of carriage towards me, he perfected the Conquest of my heart, so that at last I was constrained to avow to him without dissimulation; that I loved him as much as I was permitted to love him; and to promise him that I would do all that my Duty would suffer me to do, never to have any other Husband but himself. I could make him this promise with so much the more liberty, because I had neither Father nor Mother living, by whose will mine aught to have been regulated; and the obedience, which after their death, was due to the King my Brother, seemed to me to be perfectly extinguished by his intentions which were so unconformable to that degree of Proximity, which might have given him that Command over me. In fine, my fair Princesses, If there was too much facility in this engagement of my Soul, I will not study to excuse it; and though possibly I might find some part of an excuse in the extraordinary merit of Ariobarzanes, yet I will not make use of it to secure myself from the blame which you may lay upon me for my weakness.  
This union of our spirits, which was so well form, would have given us mutual satisfaction, if the fear of approaching death had not cruelly crossed it; and as I perceived, that the fear which Ariobarzanes was in for me, was the ground of all his grief, and the cause of all his complaints; so I confess, that I loved him so well already, that my regret was no less, upon the consideration of his loss, than for my own. He did all that possibly he could, to dissemble part of his affliction before me, and he flattered me every day with some hope of succour; but when he came to consider, that in all probablity I had but a few days to live, all his Constancy was dissipated, and his great Courage could not hinder him from showing all the marks of sensibility. 'Tis certain too, that in this Adventure, the weakness of my Sex did not hinder me from expressing as much Resolution as he; and I was often reduced to give him comfort, of which by little and little, he rendered himself uncapable. Ah Madam, said he to me one day, How different are the Subjects of our grief? And how much greater ought my regret to be than yours, there being such an inequality between the losses we are like to suffer? You are in danger of losing a life, which, as precious as it is, hath not been hither to over-dear unto you; but, with my life, I lose the fairest Hopes, and the most glorious Fortune that ever any man aspired to. As he spoke these words, he removed his eyes from off my face, to fix them upon the ground; and I saw them at the same time so overflown with tears, that I was extraordinarily moved at them. Ariobarzanes, said I to him, I would have you conform yourself to the will of the gods, who can succour us still, and possibly will do it, if we have merited their assistance; if they have determined the end of our days, we must submit to it without repugnance; and I desire you, that you would not let the grief which you apprehend for my loss, make you excced the limits which your Courage ought to prescribe to it. Ah! Madam, replied the afflicted Prince, How highly is your Resolution to be commended? but as much Constancy as you have received from Heaven, how hard would it be for you to make use of it, if the loss of Ariobarzanes were to you, as the loss of the Princess Olympia is to Ariobarzanes. Do not doubt (said I) but that I shall be as sensible of the loss of Ariobarzanes, as you can desire: But I shall support it more patiently, because it must be accompanied and probably preceded by mine, than if I should continue in the World in the regret which that might cause me. Alas! cried he suddenly, Can it be possible, that within a few days, I should see these fair eyes closed up by death? Having uttered these few words, he continued by me like one half dead, and what endeavour soever I used to reduce him to a better condition, it was impossible for me to get any thing else from him, but sighs intermingled with sobs, and looks cast up towards Heaven.  
We were oftentimes in a day upon this sorrowful Conversation! but our affliction was much augmented with our fear, when all our provisions were quite spent, and we had nothing at all to keep us alive, but a little Fish, which our people took with a great deal of difficulty; and it was so little, that there was not enough for half the persons there were of us; and that little being seasoned with nothing that might give it any relish, you may judge how long our days were like to continue with nothing but that nourishment, and a little water. As I did not take the same care of all the persons that were with me, as I did of myself; so there were some that were more sensible of our misery, than I. My Governess was the first, who being enfeebled with Age, and but of a weak Complexion beside, yielded to our misery; and after two day's sickness only, breathed her last in my presence. I received this loss with all the sorrow I was capable of, in the condition whereunto I saw myself reduced; and looking upon her whilst she exspired, with my face overflown with tears, Adieu Mother, said I; I shall shortly bear you Company; and were it not for that belief, your loss, a loss which I have been the cause of, would not be supportable. The good Eurilas her Husband being cast down with grief for the death of his Wife, and enfeebled by our miserable manner of life, survived her but two days, and left me deprived of his Conduct, and the comfort I received from him, in respect of his Age, his Prudence, and the Affection he had to my interests.  
Then it was, that I looked death in the face, as the approaching end of our miseries, I saw it present before my eyes, and thought upon thing else; and yet truly the fear I had of it, troubled me more for Ariobarzanes, than for myself only. Looking upon him with an eye drowned in tears, whilst I closed poor Eurilas' eyes, and seeing no body but Ericia near us, Ariobarzanes, said I to him, I hope that within a few days you will render me the same office, and take care to see me buried. He was so sensible of these words, That instead of making any Reply, his face grew pale, his eyes closed, and he fell into a Swoon in my presence. I had my heart so pressed with this Accident, that I wanted but a little of bearing him Company; and Ericia was fain to assist him, and throw water upon his face, to make him recover his senses. When he came to himself, he broke out into such tender and passionate expressions, as would have broken the heart of the most insensible persons; I will not repeat them to you, because these unnecessary particulars would spin out my Discourse into a tedious length.  
In Conclusion, our condition was absolutely desperate; one of my Maids was dead since the death of Eurilas, and the number of all our men was reduced to two or three; only I was better provided for than the rest, by the continual pains which Ariobarzanes took in catching Fish to nourish me, and to prolong my days as much as he could possibly. When one day being upon the shore, employed in that exercise, he saw out at Sea two Vessels engaged in Fight; but one of the two gave way to the other, and defended itself retiring, by little and little approaching to our little Island. This sight made him lift up his hands and eyes to Heaven, with some hope of succour; and it increased more and more, when he saw the two Vessels, the one chase, and the other retiring, take the direct way to the little Island, and come up close to it. He began to discern particular Objects, when Ericia and I came to a little Rising near the place where he was, where immediately I saw the same Spectacle; and after I had lifted up my hands to Heaven with a great cry, I sent back Ericia to our Lodging, to fetch a linen Cloth to fasten to the top of a Staff, and by that sign to desire succour of those persons which were in the Vessels. But these were people, who took no notice of any signs we could make to them; and a little after, the Vessel which fled before the other, having reached the shore, those that were in it, suddenly leapt out, and having gained the Rock as well as they could, they put themselves into a posture of defending themselves against the Enemy which pursued them, and to dispute their landing with all their force. Their number being much inferior to the other, they had taken the shore, to make use of the advantage of the place, against the inequality of their Forces.  
I was too far off to see all these things distinctly; but Ariobarzanes, who was hard by, easily observed them, and saw that these persons had a man of a gallant appearance at the Head of them, who presently put them in a condition of fight, and defending their lives by their Valour, against the number of their Enemies; he had hardly time to put them in Order, but their Enemies came up close to the Island, and the most resolute of them throwing themselves first into the Water, which was up to their middles, advanced furiously towards the shore; and without making use of their Arrows, which without doubt they had used in their former Combat upon the Sea, they engaged with their Enemies at handy blows, and in a little time began to make the shore wear the red Livery of both parties. The weakest in number had an advantageous Post, which afforded them some means to resist their Enemy's Forces; and their Commander did so encourage them by his Voice, and by his Example, that their Adversaries found a longer resistance than they expected: But in fine, the last having received a supply of those men who had stayed in the Vessel, the first began to quit the shore; and they had no sooner left their footing, but the others hotly pursuing them, and landing with facility, made the Victory clearly to incline to their own side. The Commander of the weaker Party defended himself with a great deal of Valour, but it was difficult for him to prolong his destiny; for his Enemies using neither Generosity nor Clemency towards him, or his, pursued them, and killed them without mercy. Part of them lay already dead upon the Turf; and the Captain having received some wounds, and being encompassed by those which were left, disputed his life with more Courage than Hope, when Ariobarzanes, who till then had been a Spectator of the Combat, without stirring out of his place, and had waited upon the success, in hope to be beholding to the Conquerors for our safety, perceived (manger the interest that might make him flatter the strongest side, in hope to get out of misery by their means) his natural generosity to arouze itself, and not being able to endure, that Valiant men should be cruelly murdered by a greater number than their own, without some endeavour on his part to assist them, he ran to them with an admirable speed, and seizing immediately upon one of the dead men's Swords and Buckler, he flew amongst his Enemies, though unknown, with such a Confidence, as made me grow pale, and tremble in the place from whence'I beheld it. I showed him to Ericia, who returned to me with the linen Cloth she went for, and we began both of us to invoke the gods for his safety, and to beg their assistance with more fervency, than ever we had done in all the time of our misery.  
In the mean time Ariobarzanes having his left Arm covered with a Shield, and brandishing his Sword in his right, threw himself presently into the thickest press, with so terrible a fierceness, that if till then, by reason of his handsomeness, and the sweetness of his countenance, he seemed to me an Adonis, or something far more beautiful; in this posture he appeared like Mars, or something much more formidable. Both Parties were immediately sensible of his Arrival; the stronger, by the damage which it received; and the weaker, by the succour which he gave it. I could tell you, Ladies, of such things as you would hardly credit, if these examples of prodigious Valour were not familiar to you; and if that which you have seen Cesario and Artaban do, did not make you find a probability in the Relation of the strangest things. Ariobarzanes was alone, without any other Arms but a Sword and Buckler; and yet his Valour appeared to be such in the first actions which he did, and the first blows which he struck, that the vanquished Party amongst whom he ranged himself, received a greater assistance from him, than it would have done from a number of men of ordinary Valour; and their Enemies having seen two or three of their boldest Companions laid dead by this unknown hand, looked upon him with astonishment, were somewhat terrified at his sight. They had already reduced the Captain of the vanquished Party to such an extremity, that not being able to sustain himself any longer, he fell upon a corner of the Rock with very weakness and weariness, where he who seemed to be Commander of his Enemies, leaping to him without pity, had his Arm lifted up to sheathe his Sword in his Breast, when Ariobarzanes, who had taken particular notice of that man, whose life was more considerable than any of the rest, and preventing with a reverse the mortal blow which his Adversary made at him, cut off his Arm close by the shoulder, and made it fall, together with his Sword, amongst the feet of the Combatants. After this action, putting himself before him whom he had succoured, and covering him with his Shield, Arise, said he, and summon up all your Forces for the defence of your life, the gods will assist you, if you do not lose your Courage. As he spoke these words, he did so scatter those which were hottest about him, that having laid another of them at his feet, the rest were afraid of his blows, and kept at such a distance from him, that the man which was down had the opportunity to get up to recover his Sword, and to recall his Vigour which was almost extinct, and to encourage his men to a courageous defence. He found more facility in it than he expected; and his Enemies by the death of their Commander, whom Ariobarzanes had deprived of life, and by the astonishment which seized upon them at the sight of the wonders which they saw the unknown perform, were struck with extraordinary Terror, and lost a good part of their Fury. Ariobarzanes seeing them waver, and stagger in the uncertainty of a Victory, which a few moments before was absolutely in their hands, animating both by word and example those whose part he had taken, beat down those which made Head against him, with so much force, that he cleared his passage every way, and restored his Companions to the hope of Safety and of Victory.  
Alas! My fair Princesses, in what a condition was I in the mean time? and if on the one side, the prodigious actions of my Ariobarzanes filled me with admiration, and ravished me with joy, to see that that Prince whom we found so excellent in all his other parts, was yet more admirable in this, the most essential and most commendable part in a Prince to whom I had given my affections; with how much fear was I environed, seeing with what neglect of his life, he threw himself amongst the points of so many Swords that were turned against him? Some other person, better versed than I in the description of Combats, would, without doubt, give you a more exact Relation of this: All that I shall say of it, is, That the Commander of that Party which Ariobarzanes had engaged for, after he had spent some moments in admiration of the things which he saw him do,, and in the first acknowledgement of the Safety he owed to him, seeing in what manner he opened the way to Victory, seconded him with a great deal of Vigour, and so encouraged his men, whom Ariobarzanes also, not ceiling himself capable of completing the Victory alone, did continually animate both by words and actions, that at last they charged their Enemies with such a Fury as they could not support; and when they had filled them with fear and disorder, they pursued them with so much eagerness and resentment, that in a few moments, they gave the best part of them their mouths full of dirt, and the rest leaving behind them their Victory, with their Companions, either dead or wounded, leapt into the Water, and got again to their Vessel with all the speed they could make, Divers of them perished before they could get on Board, and those, whom a little before they had used with so much Cruelty, being extraordinarily animated with Revenge, made use of their Victory with extreme Rigour.  
This Combat being finished in this manner, and the men having no more Enemies to fight with, ranked themselves about their Commander with great marks of Respect; and their Commander, who as feeble, as weary, and as wounded as he was, had his Soul replenished with admiration and acknowledgement for Ariobarzanes, striving with his weakness and weariness to go to him, accosted him with a countenance, which sufficiently signified his resentment. If he had been astonished at his Valour, he was no less surprised at the composition of his Person, and seeing a Body form in every part according to the exactest Model of perfection; and a countenance, which at Ariobarzanes Age, might have passed for one of the softer Sex, and have surpassed the handsomest of them; he was so ravished, that for a long time he could do nothing else but view him from head to foot, not knowing whether he should take him for a god, or for a mortal person.  
The modest Ariobarzanes making no reflection upon the cause of his astonishment, began to speak to him with a great deal of sweetness and civility, ask him if he was not wounded, and if he had not need of rest, after the great pains he had endured, and the great Combat he had fought. We have finished a Combat, replied the unknown, whereof the Glory is all yours, in which you have saved my life; and not only mine, but of all the persons which bear me Company; and in which you have done such things, as being joined to the other prodigies which I observe in your Person, fill me so full of admiration, that I have scarce time to think upon my wounds, and the repose which is necessary for me. You see nothing in me, modestly answered Ariobarzanes, but what is very common; and in putting myself to some hazard for your assistance, I have done nothing, but what all virtuous persons are obliged to do, and what I am very glad I have done, supposing I have rendered this little piece of Service, to a man which doth not carry the marks of a vulgar person. 'Tis true, replied the unknown, I am of no common extraction, and Fortune hath given me means enough to requite a good turn, if I had received it of a person, who might be paid with ordinary recompenses; but if I be not deceived in my opinion of you, I fear I shall be a long time ungrateful, if Heaven doth not favour me with some extraordinary occasion, as to that design. The service which you have received from me, is very slight replied Ariobarzanes; but such as it is, you have an opportunity amply to requite it, not only in saving a life which I was upon the point to lose, had you not arrived here; but the lives of other persons too, who are in the same necessity of your assistance, and whose safety is of much greater importance than mine. O gods! cried the unknown, is this possible that you tell me, and shall I be so happy as to be able to render you part of that which you have bestowed upon me?  
Upon these words, Ariobarzanes briefly acquainted him with the Shipwreck we had suffered, the condition we were in for want of provisions, and a Vessel to carry us off, and the expection of our certain death, if his Arrival had been deferred but a few days longer; he made him this Discourse, without telling him either his own name or mine, being resolved not to discover himself, before he knew my pleasure; and the stranger, without ask him any thing at that time more than he desired to tell him, expressing an extraordinary joy in his look, I praise the gods, said he, for the good Fortune they send me beyond my hopes, and I protest before them, that I will make such use of that no body shall ever possibly accuse me of ingratitude: I will not only carry you, and the persons which are with you out of this place; but if the absolute Command which I offer you in those places where I can claim it, cannot cause you to stay there, I will cause you to be conducted to any part of the World whether you would retire, and in all respects I will express the acknowledgement which is due to the miraculous preserver of my life: having spoken these words, he would have gone along with Ariobarzanes, to look for those persons which he had signified to him to be so considerable, but Ariobarzanes seeing that he was weak, and lost blood, prayed him to retire into his Vessel, to cause his wounds to be bound up, supposing that it might be more commodiously done there, than in the little Island, where we were not provided of any thing necessary for that purpose, whilst he went to seek us to conduct us into his Vessel. The unknown gave way to Ariobarzanes' will, and some of his men being gone to put the Skiff into the water, he passed into his Vessel with his men, whilst the joyful Ariobarzanes came back to us to acquaint us with his good fortune, and ours.  
You need not doubt, but that the fear which I had during the Combat, was succeeded by an excessive joy, when I perceived the success of it; and that from the place where I was, I could observe that it suited with my desires, though I was not without some trouble, for fear Ariobarzanes might have received some hurt, I saw that the Commander of those men whom he had assisted, being followed by all his Company, came to him; and though I did not hear their Discourse, yet I conceived, and partly knew by their action, that it expressed their thankfulness. I had two causes of joy at the same time almostequally great, the one to see Ariobarzanes escaped from that great danger with so much glory, after he had performed such actions as made me know him to be one of the most valiant men in the World; and the other, to see ourselves probably upon the point of being freed from the danger of death which had so long threatened us, and from which we had so little hope to escape. I began for all that to wonder, when I saw all the men go away, and reconduct their Captain to the Vessel, without taking us with them; and I apprehended that all was not well, when I saw Ariobarzanes come to us. His clothes in some places were covered with the blood of his Enemies, and the heat of the Combat had overspread his Cheeks with a colour which made him look more handsome than ordinary. I did not know what to expect from him, when by the cheerfulness of his countenance I guessed he had no bad News to tell us, he expressed as much in coming to us, throwing himself at my knees with Transports full of violence; Madam, said he to me, you shall not die, and 'tis not without reason, that I always hoped for particular assistances from Heaven for you. I will not render you, continued he with tears of joy, the Office for which you designed me, and it shall not be in this Island, that you shall receive from Ariobarzanes the Duties of a Burial. He used many more expressions of joy and transport; but in all the actions which were occasioned by his joy, he made it always sufficiently appear, that his contentments were much greater for my safety, than for his own; my satisfaction was not inferior to his, and believing that it was unnessary to dissemble it before him and Ericia. Ariobarzanes, said I, I rejoice, as I ought to do, to see escaped out of so great a danger with so much glory; and I am sensible, as you may very well judge me to be, of the happiness we have in being rescued from the death which we expected. I look upon both occasions of joy with little difference, and you ought not to believe that I am less contented to see Ariobarzanes Conqueror in so gallant a Combat, than to understand that we are upon the point of getting off from a place, where we believed we should lay our Bones.  
I was too favourable in my expressions without doubt, if you censure them with any Rigour; and Ariobarzanes' joy was so augmented by them, that it would have broken out into excess, if he had not taken notice of the coming of those few persons that were still left of my Retinue, who upon the report of that great Combat, which one of them had related to his Companions, came all about me to receive my Commands. I ordered them to go and fetch those things of ours which were worth the carrying; and the gods know, away they ran with excessive contentment, and were no long time returning; these poor people being quite transported to see themselves almost miraculously delivered from a death which they believed to be inevitable, did such things as sufficiently signified the disorder which joy had occasioned in their Souls; and this spectacle did so move me to tenderness, that I could not hinder myself from shedding tears after their example.  
In the mean time we enquired of Prince Ariobarzanes, if he was not wounded; and after he had retired aside to search himself, he told us he had a little hurt upon his left Arm, and the skin of his body a little razed in two or three places. I praised the gods for this good Fortune, and when our little Company was come together, we marched towards the shore, where we found the Skiffe which waited for us to conduct us into the Vessel. We passed into it, thanking Heaven for our Fortune; and though I looked upon the Rocky Island which we left behind us, as upon a place where a few moments before I thought to have found my Grave, and where I had lost some persons, whose remembrance did very sensibly afflict me; yet I confess I could not hate it, when I remembered that it had bestowed Ariobarzanes upon me; and the Prince, as he hath told me since, looked upon it with tenderness, when he remembered that within its little compass, a passion had received its birth, which caused all the care and engagement of his life.  
As we entered into the Vessel, Ariobarzanes, who led me, understood that the Master of the Vessel, and of the persons that were in it, was in his Cabin, with the Principal of his Retinue, where he had already caused his wounds to be dressed, and waited with great impatience to see the valiant Defender of his life again. We went immediately thither, without staying amongst the rest of the persons; but as soon as the door was open, the first man that met us, had no sooner cast his eyes upon my face, but stepping backwards all amazed, O gods! cried he, This is the Princess Olympia. At the name of Olympia, his Master, who lay upon his Bed, though much incommodated with his wounds, raising himself up, and turning his head toward me, repeating the name of Olympia, made me see that which I avoided with the hazard of my life, and that was the face of the King my Brother.  
Imagine, my Princesses, the greatness of my astonishment, or rather fancy to yourselves the greatest that ever any Soul was surprised with, and you will conceive a part of mine. At the sight of this face which was so terrible to me, I was suddenly blasted, my Visage grew pale, my Tongue was immovable, I trembled all over, and wanted but little of losing all sense and understanding. The most hideous thing that I saw upon the waters, when we were exposed to their fury, and the most cruel thing that I imagined in the approaches of that death which I had lately escaped, was nothing so dreadful to me, as this Encounter; and I wished divers time in that moment, rather to be exposed again to the fury of the waves, and the merciless famine, than to have been in Adallas' presence; but I was not alone in my surprise, never was there a more general astonishment in any Company and if mine was easy to be observed in my countenance, Adallas' was no less depencilled out in his, and Ariobarzanes' was as great as either. Adallas looked upon me with a variety of passions which he could not express; and he looked upon Ariobarzanes with an emotion which was legible in his eyes, and the troubledness of his countenance. I looked upon Adallas, not only as my Persecutor, whom I had fled from by Sea, at the mercy of so many dangers; but being sensible of some small reproach, or at least some accusation, because of Ariobarzanes' presence, and the affection I bore him. I looked upon Adallas as my Judge, with so much fear, that I durst hardly fix my eyes upon his face; and I had not so much confidence, as to look upon Ariobarzanes; and Ariobarzanes, who by what he saw, did already comprehend the Truth; looked upon Adallas, not as my Brother, but as my Lover, and as his Rival, and cruel Enemy; and out of the fear he had to displease me, and the part he took in my confusion, he durst not raise his eyes up to my face. All these looks proceeding from so many different passions, were accompanied with an equal silence throughout the whole Cabin, and all the persons which were there, discoursed with their eyes instead of their tongues, in an amazement whereof they all participated; and as they were all persons interessed either in Adalla's thoughts or mine, they all waited with fear or uncertainty for the end of this silence, and the event of this interview.  
Ariobarzanes had no opportunity to speak first, I had not the confidence to do it, and 'twas Adallas at last that broke the silence which had been so long observed. Yet he continued a good while, considering which of all his passions should put the first words into his mouth; and as to my misfortune, his love was the most prevalent, so that was the first that desired to make itself appear, and express some marks of his joy for my recovery, rather than of his displeasure for my flight, or of his growing jealousy at the meeting of Ariobarzanes! O gods! cried he, Do you then restore me back Olympia, whom I despaired of seeing any more; and in the Arms of death, which I believed to be inevitable, do you cause me to find Olympia? He made a stop at these first words, to observe by my eyes how I had received them; but seeing me cast them down without replying, with an action which sufficiently confirmed him in the knowledge he might have of my displeasure. I see very well, Olympia, replied he, I see very well that you are still Olympia, that is that cruel and pitiless Princess, whim I have not been able to mollify by all the effects of my passion; that implacable Enemy, that flies me throughout the World as a Monster; that to avoid me, casts herself into the most dreadful dangers; and at present is more afflicted with meeting of me, than she was without doubt with the fear of that death which she had present before her Eyes, when Fortune conducted me to her assistance.  
In the time he was speaking these few words, having recovered some Courage, and looking upon him with more confidence than before. Yes Sir, said I to him, I am as much afflicted at the meeting of you, as I should be comforted, if I found you such as you should be towards a Sister. The gods know, that if you had recovered your rational thoughts, or had never fallen into those which cause so much horror in me, I should have been so far from throwing myself into danger to avoid you as a Monster, that I should have exposed myself to all manner of sufferings, rather than have separated myself from the presence, & the friendship of my Brother; but to avoid those detestable persecutions which have made me despise, and hate my life, all that hitherto, either tempest or famine could threaten, seems so light to me, that to escape a lesser mischief, I should willingly throw myself into far more manifest dangers. Those very dangers, replied Adallas, by which you prove to me the greatness of your hatred, do equally declare to you the greatness of my love; and if to avoid me, you exposed yourself to the fury of the inconstant Seas, and to other miseries, by which possibly the gods had a mind to punish your cruelty; to seek you, I have not only thrown myself upon the same Sea, and into those cruel Adventures wherein you saw me to day, and by which I am reduced to this condition wherein you see me now; but together with my person, I hazard a whole Kingdom, which I abandoned for love of you, and left to run after you, upon the point, it may be, of a greater Revolution. But Olympia, continued he, raising his voice, and delivering himself with a more terrible accent. I need not seek any longer for the last causes of your flight, your hatred was not the only ground of it, and love without doubt had a share in it. I had good reason to doubt, that it was not sufficient for you to hate Adallas, but that you must needs love something else, to be inspired with so much Courage; and at last I perceived the truth of my doubts, by the meeting with this too handsome, and too valiant unknown, whom you have sought after, or rather, whom you have followed in your flight.  
He made me a short stop at these words, and Ariobarzanes and I, opened our mouths both at the same time to make a Reply, but he prevented us by the continuation of his discourse, and looking full upon Ariobarzanes with an action full of fury and of grief; Ah! said he with a loud Exclamation, Whosoever thou art, Thou valiant Defender, and cruel Tormentor of my days. Ah! How dearly dost thou sell me the life which I hold of thee? And to how much greater an extremity hast thou reduced me, than that was wherein thou sawest me stand in need of thy succour, in taking from me, by the obligation which I have to thee for this unfortunate life, the means of depriving thee, without ingratitude and baseness, of thine which I cannot leave thee, but with the loss of all the repose, and all the felicity of mine own? He spoke these words with such an action as made me tremble; Ariobarzanes changed colour too, but it was out of resentment, being not accustomed to endure threatenings patiently; and I saw very well by his countenance, that the fear of displeasing me, or of rendering my condition worse than it was by his Discourse, was the only cause of his greatest trouble; I took too great a share in it to neglect the occasion of easing him of it to the utmost of my power, and suddenly preventing the Answer which he intended, Sir, said I to the King, you may give what credit you please to my Discourse, and I will not seek to justify an action so innocent, that I may rather expect to be commended, than to be blamed for it; but I desire of the gods, which in part of my miseries I have not invoked in vain, that they would leave me destitute of all succour in my last disgraces, if ever I beheld this stranger, if ever I thought of him, or ever heard speak of him, before I found him in the Island, where it pleased the gods he should be for the defence of your life, whether by a shipwreck like to ours, he was carried half dead upon the shore the same day that our Vessel was cast away; you know well enough what means we have had to separate ourselves since, and you accuse him very unjustly for having any hand in my flight; seeing what reproach soever you cast upon me, you cannot possibly be ignorant that I have virtue enough to have done that upon the single consideration of my Duty, which you impute to the assistance of another passion which I was never sensible of. If you were not sensible of it then, replied the King, you may have been touched with it since, and so without doubt you are; I knew it by your countenance, and by your Discourse; I knew it by the expressions of the unknown, when he prayed me to free you from the danger wherein you where; I know it by all your actions, which know not how to deceive such eyes as are so interessed as mine; and I know it more than by all other marks by the qualities of this unknown, which are too great and too amiable for my repose; and without doubt, have been so to for the conversation of yours. Sir, said Ariobarzanes at last to him with a very confident action, and a composed countenance, I am neither Master of those great qualities whereupon you seem to ground your suspicion, neither would the Princess your Sister, if she had discovered any such in me, have possibly looked upon them in an unknown person, and of an inferior Birth to hers. This is, in my thoughts, as much as I can say as to her sentiments; but as for mine Sir, I leave you freely to judge of them; nor will I go about to disguise or justify them, out of the fear of death, which I have seen this very day in divers forms, without expressing much fearfulness, and with which I was never threatened by any one before. Thou wouldst justify thyself, replied Adallas, and thou wouldst disguise thyself in vain from me, either out of fear of death, or upon any other consideration; thy qualities are but too remarkable, and I see nothing in thy person, but what makes me judge thee to be of no mean extraction; and the higher it is, the more fatal shall my knowledge of it be to thee; and thou wilt never be so odious, nor so cruel an Enemy to me, as when I shall see thee in a condition publicly to aspire to the possession of Olympia. Let me therefore know no more of it, and take notice that Fortune hath given me this day a greater occasion than ever she could offer me, to exercise all my virtue. I will do all that possibly I can to avoid the reproach which may be cast upon me, of ingratitude and baseness towards thee; and yet I will do my endeavour too, to hinder thee from triumphing over my misfortune, and the acknowledgement I owe for the benefit I have received of thee; and I will make such use of it if I can, that thou may'st have no cause to complain, nor yet to deride me.  
As he ended these words by misfortune, Ariobarzanes cast his eyes upon my face, and mine at the same moment being turned towards his, Adallas surprised us in that mutual aspect, which possibly had something more of tenderness and passion in it, than ordinary looks. The sight made him fall into a fury which he could not disemble, and raising his voice more than before, Ah! this is too much, cried he, this is too much to be declared to a spirit which was but too well informed of this truth before; your looks do sufficiently interpret your thoughts, and thou want'st but a little, thou too too audacious stranger, of forcing me beyond the limits which I would prescribe to my just resentments; in the name of the gods do not provoke any farther, a Soul tormented with the most cruel passions, and leave me some hours at liberty to deliberate of thy destiny and mine. My destiny, said Ariobarzanes (who began to be moved, and would not have endured so much, if he had not been afraid to displease me) would not be at thy disposing, if I had not prolonged thine by my Valour. I know it too well, interrupted Adallas, I know it too well; and if the memory of it were not fresh, thou shouldst not see me waver, as I do, in a cruel uncertainty.  
Ariobarzanes went out of the Cabin without making any Reply, but not without expressing to me, by a stolen look, the divers agitations of his Soul, and the violence he used to himself upon my consideration. I saw him go out with an emotion, which it was impossible for me absolutely to dissemble; Adallas being interressed, presently perceived it, and reproached me with it upon the place. I took little care to justify myself before a man to whom I thought myself to owe no Duty; and if I did take any, 'twas more for Ariobarzanes' security, than out of any respect to myself. When he was gone forth, the King constraining me to sit down by his Bedside, set his passion defore my eyes, in the most moving rerms that it could furnish him withal, and representing to me the pains and the hazards to which he had exposed himself in following me, as proofs of affection, for which he judged I was very reduceable to him; but the more he spoke of it, the more repugnance I had to hear him; and at last my patience being tired, I so much encouraged myself, that contemning all the power he could have over me, and looking upon him with a disdain, not conformable to the thoughts we ordinarily have for a Brother and a King. Adallas, said I to him, Do not think thou hast found any favourable change in thy condition by this encounter, and think that Olympia is not so fallen into thy hands, but that she can get out of them when she pleases; the ways are always open to persons, who like her, know how to condemn death, and thou may'st be well assured, that to fly thy Arms, she will make no difficulty to cast herself into the embraces of death. Do not think therefore to triumph over my former Resolutions, by the power which Fortune seems to have given thee over me; and believe with an absolute certainty, that at that moment when thou shalt go about to abuse it, I will either throw myself into the Sea in thy presence, or sheathe a weapon in my Breast; or if these means of avoiding thy Tyranny, be taken from me by force, I will infallibly obtain that by fasting, which may be denied me by any other assistance.  
I spoke these words with such a resolute action, that Adallas did not doubt, but that I had Courage enough to execute what I expressed; and having a fresh example of what I had lately done, he certainly believed, that a person who had braved death with so much assurance, and by the memory of the dangers which she had lately escaped; was not staggered at all in her designs, was capable of undertaking any thing, and of throwing herself self into greater extremities than the former, when she should see herself constrained to it. The reflection he made upon it, kept him a long time from speaking, lifting every moment his eyes to Heaven, and using such gestures as did sufficiently express the trouble and the inquietude of his spirit. At last breaking silence, and looking upon me with an action full of the marks of his passion. Olympia, said he to me, the gods are my witnesses, that if it were in my power to cease from loving you, I would cure myself of this passion which is so disagreeable to you for our common repose, and that hence forward I have so little hope to conquer your inclinations, that I would no longer endeavour to contest with them; but seeing that in the violence whereunto my love is arrived, this hope is forbidden me, I cannot Olympia, I cannot promise you that I will cease to love you. Neither will I promise you, that I will give you no more testimonies of my love by my discourse and actions; it will be difficult for me to live near you, without making that appear to you which takes up my whole life. I will love you to my Grave, and to my Grave I will testify to you, that I cannot cease to love; but I will promise you, and do now promise you before all the gods, That I will never employ any thing whilst I live, but love, perseverance, and all the devoiers of a true lover to persuade you, without having recourse to the Authority which my Birth gives me, and I was heretofore resolved to make use of. Yes, Olympia, you may be very certain, that you shall never be forced to give me those testimonies of your affection which I might desire, if you be not induced to do it by my love and services, and with the assurance you may return without fear into a Kingdom, where you shall reign as in my heart; but withal believe assuredly, that I will never consent whilst I breathe to another's happiness, but will rather undo all, and bury myself in the ruins of our Family, than permit that any body else should obtain that of you, which you so cruelly deny me. In fine, Olympia, I will never enjoy you by force, nor will I ever suffer any other to possess you, as long as I shall have any life left to hinder; and if it be possible for me, I will be the death of all those who shall have the intention to do it.  
These words made me tremble upon Ariobarzanes' Account, to whom this menace was particularly addressed; but finding some consolation in the promise which Adallas made me, never to force me to marry him, I thought it best to make use of this good motion, in expection that Heaven might send more absolute assistance; and that by time, and the Accidents which might happen in my life, there might arrive a greater change in my Fortune. Sir, said I to him upon this thought, you would undoubtedly obtain a very glorious Victory, if you could banish out of your Soul this passion which is so fatal to your repose, and so injurious to your Reputation, and you secure me but from one half of my pains in reserving to yourself the liberty of loving me, and of continuing to give me testimonies of that fury which you call love. Yet I will endure them more patiently. than the violence which I feared at your hands; and if you observe the promise you have made me, never to use your Authority to constrain me, I will be contented to wait till the gods shall change your inclinations, without using any extremity against my life.  
The King being well pleased to see me a little recomposed, confirmed his promise to me, and conceived some small hope, that time might work some favourable revolution in my Fortune.  
In the mean time the Chirurgeons prayed the King to give some intermission to this long and vehement Conservation, if he would not have his wounds grow worse; and 'twas with a great deal of constraint that he resolved to keep silence, and to let me go from him for some few hours. I had the liberty to walk in the Vessel, and so had Ariobarzanes too, the King having taken no care to retain him any other way, knowing very well that he had no means to get out of his power, but by throwing himself amongst the waves, but though I saw him, and had a thousand things to say to him, yet I durst not speak to him, seeing myself observed by all the King's Retinue, who were as so many Spies, and could not have informed him that I entered into a particular Conversation with Ariobarzanes, without redoubling his Jealousy, which might have broken out into Tragical effects; yet my looks, which I did not retain with so much Circumspection as in the King's presence, did partly declare my thoughts to him; and fearing lest they should fail in the discovery of my mind, one time, when I saw his eyes fixed upon me, I took my Bodkin out of my Head, and making as if I played with it, and made some letters upon one of the boards of the Vessel; after I had mused myself in that manner for a while, at last I wrote my intention there in a few words, making him a small sign with a private wink, that when I was gone from thence, he should come and read what I had written. Ariobarzanes easily apprehended my design, and coming into the place a little after I was gone, he did not fail to look what I had written; and though the letters were ill made upon the wood, yet he made a shift, with some trouble to read these few words, Bridle your great Courage, if you love me, endure any thing at the King's hands, so long as his resentments go no farther than words, and endeavour to gain his heart by submission and services. Ariobarzanes read these words, which immediately after he scratched out with a Bodkin, only subscribing, I will obey.  
In the mean time we were all intended upon by the King's Officers, and though they knew the resentment he had against Ariobarzanes, they could not choose but love him for his rare qualities, remembering the wonders he had done in their defence, to which they were sensible that they were beholding for their lives. That little of the day which remained, and the Night following passed away, before we saw the King again, there being another Cabin in the Vessel, whereinto I was put with my Maids; and Ariobarzanes being accommodated amongst the men, who all looked upon him with Veneration.  
The next day the Chirurgeons seeing that the King's wounds grew worse, and knowing that the Sea, and the agitation of the Vessel were naught for him, they told him that he must of necessity land at the nearest Port, and continue there till his wounds were in a better condition, if he would not put his life in great danger. Adallas received this News with impatience, and yet he was nessitated to resolve upon it; and being not far distant from the Coasts of Cilicia, and the Island of Cyprus, he commanded the Vessel to put in to land with all speed; not in Cilicia, for he knew that there it was where I would have chosen my retreat; and he was afraid to see the King our Uncle, who probably would not have approved of the wicked intentions he had for me; but in the Isle of Cyprus, where in the next Town he might attend the cure of his wounds. Yet he ordered his men, to conceal his Name, and not to discover him to any body, during all the time he should be forced to continue there. This order being given, and the Vessel being turned that way, the King made me be called, and after his first Discourses, which were still of the ordinary stile, and that he had told me that he had resolved what to do with Ariamenes (whom he knew by that Name) he commanded him to be brought into his Chamber. The Prince came in, and opproached his Bed with a countenance which were no marks of fear, and which caused admiration and love in all those that saw him. The King looked upon him a while without speaking, and then beginning to discourse with a more composed action than the day before. Ariamenes, said he, The gods are my Witnesses, that I look upon the benefit which I have received from thee in such a manner, that if it were not counterpozed by the outrage thou hast done me, I have neither Estate nor Dignities, no not so much as a Crown, but what I would make thee partaker of as my Deliverer, and the Preserver of my life. And the same gods know likewise, that the offence which I have received from thee, doth so sensibly move me, That if it were not equalised by the greatness of the Service which thou hast rendered me, there is no consideration or humane power which could hinder me from taking away thy life. I have therefore been obliged to seek out a middle way between the offence and the benefit, to moderate the resentments which are due to both; and seeing I am not permitted to destroy my most cruel Enemy, because he is the Defender of my life, I do not owe that acknowledgement to the Defender of my life, which I intended him, because he is my greatest and most cruel Enemy. Know then that I acquit myself of the obligation which I have for the Service which thou hast rendered me, in leaving the thy life and liberty, offering thee according to my promise, the conveniences of conveying thyself into any part of the World whither thou wouldst retire, except my Dominions; and I satisfy my revenge and my repose as much as I can, by withholding the Recompenses which I designed for thee in my Court, by forbidding the ever to set foot in any part of the World, where thou may'st see Olympia 's face again; and protesting to thee by all the powers of Heaven, that all the powers upon Earth shall not save thy life, if after this prohibition thou fallest again into my power in my own Dominions; prepare thyself therefore to be gone as soon as we come a shore, and demand any thing that may be necessary for thy Equipage or Conduct; but remember that our separation must be eternal, and that thou canst not ever dream of seeing Olympia again, without exposing thyself to an inevitable death.  
Adallas spoke in this manner, and I trembled all the while that his Discourse lasted; but Ariobarzanes harkened to him without changing his countenance, or showing any sign of passion, though he laid a great deal of violence upon himself to obey the command which I imposed upon him, to endure the Kings threatenings with patience; and when he had done speaking, the Prince looking upon him in a resolute manner, Sir, said he, I never did you any injury, nor have I rendered you any Service, but what you have already requited; and as my death ought not to satisfy for those outrages wherewith you reproach me, seeing it is certain that you never received any from me; so you owe me no Recompense, for having exposed my life for the defence of yours, seeing you saved my life afterwards, by freeing me from a place, where in all probability I should quickly have seen an end of it. By this only benefit, I acknowledge myself paid for the Service I have rendered you, and I acquit you of it, desiring nothing else of your liberality, but the liberty you have offered me to retire into any Dominions but yours, and to a place whither it shall please the gods to conduct my Destiny. He would not speak any more, for fear of letting fall some word that might displease me, or discover our intelligence; neither would he receive any thing that the King offered him for his Conduct, and to put him into Equipage; and I was not troubled at it, remembering that I had seen him have a Picture Case, which he had formerly received from the King his Father, with the Pourtraicture of that Prince, enriched with Diamonds of a great value, which would yield him above Thirty Talents at the first Town he came to, though he sold them for half their worth. The King, by the refusal he made of his assistance, confirmed himself in the belief he had, That he was of no mean extraction, and that thought rendered him the more suspicious and redoubtable to him, and yet he confessed in his presence, that it was his misfortune to observe in a man, whom he neither could, nor aught to love, all the qualities that might attract both love and admiration.  
I will not tell you how Ariobarzanes resented our separation, for we had not the liberty to speak together; but for my part, my fair Princesses, I confess I was so sensible of it, that I had no room for comfort in my Soul; and it was no small redoubling of my grief, to see myself in a condition, and in a place where I could no way discover it, and where I was obliged to a cruel and rigorous constraint. I ventured for all that once more to write some words to Ariobarzanes, by that means which I formerly made use of; and having taken my time, as before, though with a little more trouble and fear. I was so continually afraid to expose him to some danger, I gave him opportunity to read these few words engraved upon the same Plank, and with the same Bodkin which had rendered us the former Office. Wait, as I do, upon the leisure of Heaven for some change in our Fortune, endeavour it if you can without exposing yourself; but be sure you do not make yourself known, and if you cannot see me without putting your life in danger, in the Name of the Gods never see me more. I could not write these last words without shedding some tears, and Ariobarzanes could not read them, without having need of all his constancy to dissemble his grief, He presently blotted out that which I had writ, and added these few words below, I will love you to my Grave, I will see you again whatsoever befalls; and I shall expose nothing that is mine, when in seeing you, I shall only hazard that life which I have devoted to you. It being somewhat difficult to grave upon the Wood, we could not write longer Letters; and after I had blotted out this last, I would not venture any more, for fear that at last we might have been surprised.  
Nevertheless I found opportunity to let Ericia speak with him, and she being much less observed than I, it being no strange matter, that upon the acquaintance which they had contracted in the time which they had been together, they should have some Discourse, she took her time to assure him from me, of the firmness of my affection, and to protest to him, That though I was not resolved ever to bestow myself upon him upon my own single motion, in assuming a liberty which would be condemned by persons of my Birth; yet for all that, I would do all that possibly I could, never to be any ones else but his; and I would govern myself so in that design, that he should never have any cause to accuse me: She told him, That as for his part, he might take any course that his affection and prudence should direct him to, and provided, he did not hazard his life too rashly. I had so good an opinion of him, as to commit to his conduct whatsoever might concern me; but above all, he should keep himself from being known to be a King's Son, and be assured, that the equality of our conditions rendering him more suspicious and redoubtable to Adallas, would be infallibly fatal to him, Ariobarzanes received these Testimonies of my affection with great expressions of content and comfort, and after that he had loaded Ericia with a thousand protestations of eternal fidelity. Assure my Princess, added he, That no difficulty, no fear of death shall be able to deprive her of one moment of my life that I will live to serve her; that I will see her again, and find out ways for her to make me happy, if her goodness continues favourable to me: Let her never fear my Conduct, as young and as passionate as I am, I will manage her interests in that manner, that she shall never receive any displeasure upon that account. In the mean time, my good and generous Ericia, keep her still, if you can possibly, in these inclinations of pity which she hath for me, and represent to her, if you please, that she cannot forget her faithful Ariobarzanes, without committing a cruelty which the gods will never pardon: he made her divers other very passionnate Discourses, till he thought the length of their Conversation might make it be suspected. Ericia tenderly affected me with the Report she made me of it, and it was easy for Adallas to persuade himself more and more, by the sadness which he observed in my countenance, that the departure of Ariamenes did not leave me without displeasure.  
In the mean time we drew near to the Isle of Cyprus, and the City of Carpasia, which was the nearest Port. The King made us go ashore, and caused himself to be carried out of the Vessel, to one of the Houses in the City, but he was minded to see Ariobarzanes gone first, and when the Prince took his leave of him, Farewell Ariamenes, said he, Accuse my misfortune, and not my ingratitude, that I cannot be thy Friend; and be sure to remember, that we must never meet again; and that Thrace is a Country fatal to thy life, whither thou must never come, but with a resolution to lose it. I know it, Sir, said Ariamenes, and I shall remember it without doubt; but if we ever do see another again, it may possibly be in such a manner, that the second view may be as welcome to thee as the first. Adallas possibly did not understand these last words, at least he made him no Reply, neither did Ariobarzanes give him time to do it; but having taken his leave of me with a profound Reverence, which Adallas' presence could not hinder him from expressing to me, he turned his back, and all alone, and on foot, he took a different way from that which we went. I confess that I was as sensible of this separation, as if I had lost one half of myself; but I was forced to dissemble my grief by a cruel constraint, and I could not so easily do it, but that Adallas found occasion in the changing of my countenance, to make me divers reproaches. We went to the City, where without discovering ourselves, we were well lodged, and there the King's Chirurgeons took care of his recovery.  
You will wonder, my Princesses, That having made you a long Relation of the great Combat, wherein the King my Brother received his wounds, I have not told you the cause of it, nor who the persons were against whom he fought; but indeed the King himself was ignorant of it, and so were all those that were with him; and the King's wounds having hindered him in the time of the Victory from thinking to take some Prisoners, who might have acquainted him with the Truth, when he had an intention to do it afterwards, it was too late, and he could find no body that could give him any information. At the beginning of the Combat, he thought they had been Pirates who had set upon him; but he perceived afterwards, that his Enemies aimed more at his life, than at booty, and they were too cruelly violent in the pursuit of him, to be carried on by no other interest, but the desire of Pillage, as ordinary Pirates are. At that time they could make no further discovery, but time and things which happened afterwards, acquainted them with the Truth, as you shall likewise understand by the Sequel of my Discourse.  
The King knowing very well, that there were in his Kingdom some persons illaffected to his Service, and that at his departure, he had left things disposed to some Insurrection, fearing lest his long absence, and the uncertainty of his life, might cause a great prejudice to his Affairs, sent some of his Followers in his Vessel, to go and assure his people, That he had a design to return very speedily to them, and to retain them within the limits of their Duty, as much as possibly they could. In the mean time, the Chirurgeons employed themselves with a great deal of care in the curing of his wounds; they were not dangerous, but the Sea, and the violent passions wherewith the King's mind had been disturbed, had exasperated them, and rendered the cure of them more difficult. In this place every one was ignorant of the Name and Quality of the King, and the Country being very quiet, his Equipage did not make him suspected, and his Servants were ready with an Answer, telling those who asked them, That he was a Lord of Quality born upon the Frontiers of Thrace, and had been wounded by Pirates, who were frequently met withal upon those Seas.  
In the interim I was guarded like a Prisoner, though in all other respects I was treated & served like a Queen; and the King, who remembered what I had undertaken a little before, and fearing to lose me by a second flight; or being afraid lest Ariobarzanes, who might be concealed in that Island, should use some endeavour to see me, and possibly to get me out of his hands, caused me to be so strictly watched, that I had scarce liberty to go into my Chamber which joined close to his; and during all the time that his Chirurgeons permitted him to see any body, I was forced to be continually by his Bedside, and consequently always exposed to his cruel persecution. Yet when he saw my spirit exasperated with a little more than ordinary violence, he gave me a little intermission, and protested to me, that he would inviolably observe the promise he had made me, not to force my inclinations; but that was not capable of giving me any repose, but was perpetually disturbed by his pursuits, which I could not endure without horror: And if I may dare to confess it, my fair Princesses, that was not able to comfort me for Ariobarzanes absence. His Image, since I must conceal nothing from you, continued in such a manner engraved in my memory, and the remembrance of his Excellent qualities, and the testimonies which he had given me of his love, were so present, and so dear to my memory, that nothing could intermingle with them though but for a few moments, without causing me a displeasure. The Conversation which I had with my faithful Ericia, was all my comfort; and those hours when I had the liberty to converse with her without Witnesses, I used all the expressions that a real affection could put into the mouth of a person that is very sensible of it; and received from her mouth, all that in that condition could afford any consolation to my sorrows. Alas! How many times hath she dried up the tears which the consideration of my misfortunes made me shed, promising me some change in my condition, by the sight, and by the cares of Ariobarzanes? And how often, against her own thoughts, hath she flattered a grief, which she judged to be capable of bringing me to my Grave? The Name of Ariobarzanes was Music in my ears, but I could not so much as fancy a real hope of seeing him again; and I found so little probability of it, and so little safety for him, that I could not comprehend how it might be done, and indeed I did not know whether I might desire it or not. Ericia said I sometimes to that Maid, My misfortunes are real, and my happiness is nothing but illusion. I know that I am really tormented by the cruel persecution of Adallas; that I did really expose myself to the mercy of a tempestuous Sea; that I suffered ship wrack in an Island where I had almost perished by famine, with those persons who were dear to me; and I know very well, that by the countenance of my ill Fortune, I am really fallen into Adallas' power; but as for all that concerns Ariobarzanes, it seems no more to me, than a Dream or a Vision: But alas! such a Vision as hath imprinted deeper Characters in my heart, than the most real things. In the very Arms of death, Ariobarzanes appeared to me like a flash of lightning, he inflamed me the first moment, and in a short time after disappeared from my eyes with the same suddenness. Whatsoever Beauty, Valour, Wit, and all the most excellent qualities could contribute to accomplishment, was presented to me in the person of a man unknown; and at a time when I expected nothing else but death, this admirable Masterpiece of perfection immediately opened himself a passage to my heart, and it seems my destiny showed him to me by so extraordinary a way, only to subdue a Soul till then in vincible to that passion; and when it had wrought its effect, when the miserable Olympia was upon such terms, whereunto she never thought to see herself reduced, the same destiny snatched away Ariobarzanes, deprived me of that which made me in love with life, and deprived me of it so, that I shall see him again no more. No Ericia, I shall never see him more; and the gods who have sent him to me by a prodigious Adventure, do not work Miracles every day in our favour. I will not suspect the spirit of Ariobarzanes of inconstancy, or infidelity, and I believe what you tell me, That he will be always faithful to me; but what Advantage will that be to my happiness? And how can he serve me, without exposing himself to that death wherewith Adallas hath so cruelly threatened him? Besides, Is it reasonable that I should desire the return of that poor Prince? And if I love him really, ought I to desire that, to come and see me, he should throw himself into such a manifest danger? Ah! No Ericia, let us never hope it, let us never desire it, and let us seek our utmost consolations in our tears. As I ended these words, I shed a great quantity of tears, and all that the poor Ericia could allege to me, did but very little diminish my grief. 'Tis true, that having accustomed myself from my infancy to an absolute resignation to the will of the gods, I endeavoured to practise it in this Adventure, and in that indeed it was that I found some ease, always hoping that the Divine goodness would favour innocent designs, or at least would give me constancy enough to support whatsoever it had resolved as to my destiny.  
Lingering out my days in this manner, two whole Months were slipped away before the King's wounds were cured, and he was not yet in a condition to go to Sea again, when the two men whom he had sent into his Kingdom, returned back in the same Vessel which he had furnished them with, and brought him the saddest, and the most unpleasing News that he could receive, which was, in a word, of a general commotion, and almost the total loss of all his Dominions. This happened in such a manner as I am going to relate to you in a few words. The King Adallas our Father, was not settled in the possession of Thrace, till after he had had great War with a Neighbouring Prince, Sovereign of Taurica Chersonesus, and pretending to the Kingdom of Thrace, by a great many Reasons that he alleged, saying, That he was descended from the lawful Kings of that Kingdom; and quarrelling upon these pretensions, with the King my Father as an Usurper; divers persons affirmed that his pretensions were just enough, and grounded their Discourse upon very probable Arguments; but howsoever it was, there was a great deal of blood shed in this quarrel, and though the King my Father was more strong in men, and had larger Dominions than his Enemy, the events of the War were a long while doubtful; and possibly it would not have been ended a long time, if Anthony had not interposed his Authority to bring them to agreement a little before that War, wherein he decided the Empire of the Universe with Augustus, and in which the King my Father kept him faithful Company, and served him with his Person, and his Forces. These two Princes, either willingly, or out of fear, remitted their interests into Anthony's hands, who being favourable to our Family, dismissed the King of Chersonesus from the pretensions he had to the Crown of Thrace; yet leaving him a small part of that Kingdom joining to Chersonesus, which his Father, and all his Predecessors had always possessed, by means of a Tribute which they annually paid to the King of Thrace, which he obliged him to pay as before. After this Accord, my Father continued peaceable in his Dominions; and the King of Taurica, though he thought himself illused, lived at peace with his Neighbour, whom he knew to be more strong than he; but he died almost at the same time that the King my Father did, and left his Dominions to a Son which he had almost of the same Age with the King my Brother, a fierce and haughty man, but of exceeding Valour, and born with all the necessary qualities for a great Warrior. He had already acquired great Reputation in the War which the Queen of Dacia made in Scythia: And though he had some disadvantage against the Valiant Alcamenes Prince of the Scythians, and had been constrained to renounce the pretensions he had to the Princess of Dacia, 'twas certain for all that, that he had rendered his Name famous by a hundred gallant Actions. This Prince named Merodates, being not contented with what was allotted him, but complaining of the injustice which was done him by the judgement of Anthony, after the death of my Father, was oftentimes upon the point of taking up Arms to begin the War afresh upon the old pretensions of his Family; but he saw himself unequal in Forces, and though he was rash enough, yet being prudent withal, he dissembled part of his designs in expectation of an occasion to discover them, when he should be in a condition publicly to undertake the execution of them, endeavouring in the mean while to gain and keep some intelligences in Thrace, and sowing the seeds of Discontentment and Rebellion in the minds of the Thracians, who are naturally inconstant and unfaithful; and to whom besides, I know not by what misfortune, my Brother's Government was not very agreeable.  
Adallas having had some suspicion of Merodates' practices, and seeing him otherwise very slow and backward to pay him the Tribute which he owed him for the Lands which he permitted him to possess in Thrace, after he had caused it to be sharply demanded of him; and not receiving present satisfaction, he sent his Troops into those places which he held in Thrace; and they being ill furnished for defence against the Forces of a mighty King, Adallas quickly made himself Master of them, and absolutely dispossessed Merodates, leaving nothing in his power within the limits of Thrace. After this Adallas might believe that his Enemy would lose no opportunity he could meet with to revenge himself; and knowing him to be haughty and full of Courage, he had a reason to fear him, or at least not to leave him in a condition to express his resentments; and yet the gods, whom the unlawful passion of the King my Brother had provoked against him, permitted him to be so blinded, That he did not only neglect to put himself into a condition to keep his Enemy within his limits; but as destiny would have it, a little while after I flying from his Court and Kingdom, as I have related to you, his passion did so transport him, and did so close his eyes against all other considerations, that without foreseeing the evils which apparently threatened him, he committed the whole Government of his Dominions into the hands of his Favourite Eurimedes, and running whither his Folly carried him. He went to Sea with one single Vessel, and being attended only with a hundred men, taking no greater Equipage with him which might discover him in the design he had to search all the Seas all incognito, till he had met with me. He had been two Months at Sea to no purpose, when he landed at the little Island where we had suffered Shipwreck; and as I told you, we had stayed two Months in Cyprus, when these two men came back to us, and brought us News of the Disasters which in those four Months were happened in his Kingdom.  
They informed us then, That a little after his departure, Merodates seeing so fair an occasion for his revenge, and for the recovery of his Country, came in with all the Forces he could raise; and the places being defended but with very small Garrisons, part of them had their Throats cut by the Inhabitants, part of them were forced to yield, and the rest being intimidated, marched out upon composition, leaving Merodates' absolute Master of that which he had lost not long before. And seeing himself possessor of that which lawfully belonged to him; he did not bound his Ambition there, but after he had strengthened his Troops with divers Levies which the Countries which were reconquered furnished him withal, and which he sent for out of Chersonesus,, to make a strong Attempt; with a considerable Body of an Army he marched into Thrace, and being prudently Politic, he wasted all with Fire and Sword that made any resistance; and used all those very gently who submitted to him without farther trouble. The whole Kingdom seeing itself deprived of its King, and being disfurnished of Forces, and necessary preparations to withstand a sharp War, was very much staggered; and those whom Merodates had a long time practised withal, did not fail to publish all abroad, That their King had abandoned them, and that they were fools and wretches to suffer themselves to be killed, and to expose themselves to all the miseries of a cruel and a bloody War, to preserve their Fidelity to a Prince who delivered them up to their Enemies, and had quitted the defence of his Kingdom, and his Subjects, to go and fill the world with the report of the horrible love which he bore his Sister: And to this Merodates added Manifestos. which he spread all about, by which he endeavoured to make the King odious to a people which he had had so little care to protect, and exhorted them to put themselves under the dominion of a Prince descended from their lawful Kings, a Prince, who instead of abandoning them, would defend them with his blood, against all the powers upon earth. To this, he adjoined great promises to those who should come in to his Party, and great threatenings to those who should make any resistance. And in brief, he had wrought in such a manner, either by his persuasions, or by the terror of his Arms, that a great many persons of considerable quality, either intimidated, or corrupted, or discontented and illaffected, joined with his Party, and divers Cities opened their Gates to him.  
Eurimedes, to whom the King had left the Government of the Kingdom, had used all possible Remedies with all Fidelity and diligence, and of all the Troops which he could raise; and in levying and conduct whereof, he had employed and encouraged those persons of quality which were well-affected to the Service of their King, having composed the Body of an Army of more than Twenty thousand men; he marched against Merodates, and too unadvisedly gave him Battle. The despute was doubtful, cruel and bloody, but at last the victory fell to Merodates; and Eurimedes being vanquished, hardly saved himself, with part of his Cavalry, all his Infantry being cut in pieces. After this Victory, the insolent Merodates marched directly towards Byzantium, causing himself to be styled King of Thrace, and receiving every day the Towns which submitted to his obedience. There were some, which by the strength of their situation, or the Valour and Fidelity of the Inhabitants, caused some trouble to the Conqueror; but at last he made himself Master of them, and used those so rigorously who had resisted to extremity, that it was much to be feared, that the rest were discouraged, and would rather follow the example of the others, who by their facility in yielding to the Vanquisher, had received all manner of good usage. Eurimedes was near to Byzantium, where he raised new Forces, and a great many Loyal persons came in to him; but it was believed, that he would not be a long time in a condition to hazard a second Battle, neither was it judged safe for him to venture it, though he had Forces equal to those of Merodates. In the mean time he fortified the City, and the Haven of Byzantium, and by his orders, and example, divers Governors put their Garrisons into a posture of defence; but there was a general terror amongst all, little Fidelity in the hearts of the meaner People; and in brief, a great deal of danger of the loss of the whole Kingdom, if the gods, and the presence of the King did not prevent it.  
This was the News which was reported to Adallas, and which, maugre his passion, caused a great deal of trouble and grief in his Soul. He continued a good while not able to open his mouth, and afterwards turning his eyes toward me, and prefacing his intended Discourse with some sighs, Behold Madam, said he, behold the fruits of the Love I bear you; it is not sufficient, that for your sake I should be deprived of my Repose, but for your sake too I must lose the Kingdom of my Ancestors. By this, Sir, answered I, you may judge how much that Love displeases the gods, seeing they punish you for it with so extreme a rigour; and if you would appease them, and render them more favourable to you, you must rid yourself of that unjust passion which hath provoked them against you. All the afflictions they can lay upon me, replied the passionate Prince, shall never reduce me to that; and if to the loss of my Crown, they do not add the loss of my life too, they shall never deprive me of the Love which I have for Olympia, to whom I would willingly have sacrificed Crowns and Empires far greater than that which I have received from my Ancestors. Ah! Sir, added I, if you would make good use of the instruction which you received from Heaven, you might yet without doubt gain assistances thence, which might resettle you upon your Throne, and would give you an absolute Victory over those Enemies to whom your unjust passion only hath given all the Courage they had to invade your Dominions. Let us talk no more of it, cried the furious Adallas, let us talk no more of it; but let us go without any farther delay to the assistance of a Kingdom which is not quite lost: There possibly in a little time, you shall see what vengeance I will take upon my Enemies, or at least by my utter overthrow, you shall be perpetually freed from a wretch who lives only to persecute you with his Love, and not to be beloved by you. Upon these words, though he was not as yet fully cured, he commanded that all things should be prepared for our departure against the next Morning, as well to accomode the Vessel if it had any need, as also for the Provision of Necessaries for our Voyage.  
In effect all things being prepared as well as they could be in so short a time, the next day we put to Sea, and began to make towards Thrace with all our Sails. We prosecuted our Voyage with a great deal of diligence and success for the first days; and Adallas being inflamed with a desire of Revenge, did continually encourage the industry of his Mariners. We had already passed by Apolbusa, Eramnusa, and Cholidonia; we had Coasted Rhodes and Doris upon the right hand, and left Crete behind us upon the left hand; when as we were sailing forward amongst the Isles called the Cycladeses, the gods, who were really angry with Adallas, were pleased that we should be surprised with a furious Tempest, which, after it had tossed our Vessel divers days with great danger of our lives, made us turn back the same way, and constrained us to land in the Isle of Crete.  
The King my Brother almost died with displeasure, when he saw himself so cruelly crossed in his intentions; but he had cause enough to exercise all his patience, when he was forced to wait above six weeks in Crete, till the wind, which all that while was contrary to us, changed to a favourable point, and gave him opportunity of putting to Sea again. You need not doubt, but that this obstacle put him almost in despair; and seeing that above two Months were slipped away, since he had received intelligence of the unfortunate condition of his Affairs, he had reason to fear that they were grown much worse, and that his Enemies had gained time enough to corrupt the Fidelity of his Subjects, or to reduce them by force to the utmost extremities. He received News in Crete too (whereas in other places he continued always concealed) and the wind which opposed our going towards Thrace, being very favourable to them who came from the Coasts of Thrace into Crete, gave him opportunity oftentime, to see some persons, who could give him a confused Relation of that which came to their knowledge, by the general Report concerning the estate of his Kingdom. They told him, that all things there were in a far greater disorder than before; that Eurimedes, Lieutenant-General of the Kingdom, having been constrained to come to a second Battle, was defeated, and himself killed upon the place; and after this last Victory, Merodates had hardly found any resistance in the Field; only they thought that the City of Byzantium, and the Country thereabout, continued faithful, and in a defensive posture, by his care, who having been Eurimedes' Lieutenant a little before his death, had since succeeded him in his charge, and, as they said, defended those small remainders with a great deal of Valour. Adallas had much ado to dissemble his grief before those who made him these Reports, not knowing who he was; and in the impatiency which tormented him, he would possibly have sunk under his sorrows, if that foolish Love which did predominate in his Soul above all the other passions; had not made him lose, or at least laid aside some part of the sensibility which he might have for all other Affairs.  
At last, after six week's expectation, as I told you before the wind which had been so directly opposite to us, giving place to that which we had so much desired, we went to Sea again, and continued our Voyage with our former diligence. We quickly recovered the Cycladeses, we left Eubea upon our left hand, and sailed on in the Egean Sea. But when we were past the Isle of Lesbos, the King understanding by the Discourse he had heard, That he could not land in safety in any part of Thrace, but only at Byzantium, which continued faithful to him still, he was very much troubled to think what way he should take. And it was not without reason that he was so solicitous, seeing that to get into the Strait of Byzantium, he must of necessity sail all along the Coast of the Taurica Chersonesus, which was his Enemy's Country, and pass through all the Hellespont to enter into Propontis, which he could not do without a great deal of danger, there being no doubt but that his Enemies had Ships at Sea, either to take him, or destroy him there; and he almost certainly believing (as indeed the Truth was) that the Encounter which he already had at Sea, whereby he was reduced into such great danger, was with the men which Merodates had sent out upon that design. He was forced for all that to resolve upon something, and seeing no other means to land, being naturally very Courageous, he ventured the passage; and upon this occasion, either by his good Fortune, or the negligence of his Enemies, who left the Sea free, having enough to do at Land, the gods were favourable to him, and we sailed through the Strait along all the Coast of Chersonesus, and entered into Propontis, without meeting with any opposition. When we were past the Strait, we kept out at Sea, and sailed at a further distance from the Coast, for fear of falling into the Enemy's hands, not knowing which way to get to Byzantium without great danger.  
We continued two days in this uncertainty, and the third day we discovered a Vessel which made towards us, Adallas was in doubt a while, whether he should come near it or no, because of the danger there was of meeting Enemies sooner than Friends; but his Affairs being in a condition which obliged him to venture very much, and that without hazarding himself there was little probability for him to recover that which he had lost, he determined to try his Fortune, and to inquire of those persons who were in the Vessel, in what condition the Port of Byzantium was, and by what means he might land there, in case he found them to be his Friends, and faithful Subjects; and if they were his Enemies, he resolved to fight them. With this Resolution he advanced towards the Vessel, which coming directly to us, and no way avoiding us, afforded us all the facility we could desire of coming near to it. There was immediately a signal of Peace given from our Ship, and the other having returned the like, they both came close up to each other, and the persons which were on Board began to speak one to another; but Sosias, who was the most considerable man about the King, no sooner saw the Captain of the other Vessel, but he knew him to be Nicocles, one of his familiar friends, and one of the King's faithful Servants. Upon this happy Encounter, Sosias, after a joyful Exclamation, called Nicocles by his Name, and he had no sooner made himself known to him, but Nicocles, who knew very well that Sosias went from Byzantium with the King, running to the side of his Vessel, Sosias, cried he, Where is the King? Where is the King? At these words, the King who had concealed himself behind some of his Servants, knowing the person, and the affection of Nicocles, came out before them, and discovering himself to him, Here he is, Nicocles, cried he, Here he is. Nicocles being not mistaken either in the voice or countenance of his Prince, immediately leapt into our Ship, followed by the principal of his Companions, and embracing the knees of his King with tears of joy, he gave him to understand, That all Fidelity was not extinguished in his Subjects hearts.  
The King having spent some time in the first motions of his joy, and having showed him too that I was in the Ship, began at last to question him about the condition of Affairs, and by what means he might land at Byzantium. Sir, said Nicocles, You may go to Byzantium with all the facility that may be; and the Valour of that person who now possesses Eurimedes' place, hath removed the Enemy's Troops so far from the City, that they cannot hinder your landing, neither have they any Ships upon this Sea which you need to fear. He began after that to make a brief Relation to the King of all that he had heard before concerning the first proceedings of Merodates in Thrace, the taking of almost all the Towns in the Kingdom, and the event of the two Battles which he had gained; in the last of which, the faithful Eurimedes lost his life; and continuing his Discourse concerning those things which were not as yet come to the King's knowledge: Sir, said he, In the beginning of this War, a young stranger who sought occasions of signalizing himself, having been informed of the Justice of your side, listed himself in your Troops, and in the first Battle, applying himself particular to Eurimedes, he not only saved his life, but showed him likewise so many other effects of an admirable Valour, that the General admiring his gallant Actions, and acknowledging the particular Service he had received from him, after his Retreat, gave him the Command of Two thousand Horse, being the greatest part of our Cavalry that was left, and put him into so much Reputation by the Eulogiums which he bestowed upon him, That all your faithful Subjects looked upon him without envy in the employment which was bestowed upon him; and he behaved himself so in it, That if he had commanded stronger Forces, there was great probability, that he would haved stopped the progress of Merodates. With his Two thousand Horse, he daily skirmished with the Enemy, whilst Eurimedes raised more men; and being conducted by such persons as were better acquainted with the Country than himself, he continually beat up their quarters, and did so much incommodate Merodates, that he with his small body, was more formidable to the Enemy, than all the Forces of Thrace. At all the Sieges which they understood he perpetually plagued them; and by his continual Incursions, and the Supplies he frequently put into the Garrifons, he hindered, without doubt, the loss of a good part of our Towns; but at last the great Number of our Enemies, seconded by the Valour of their Prince, who is really one of the most Valiant and Courageous Captains upon Earth; and the Disloyalty, or weakness of part of the Thracians, prevailed against all the resistance we could make, and constrained the Valiant stranger to retire to the main body of the Army, which Eurimedes recruited with all possible speed. Eurimedes seeing in what manner he had used the employment which he had given him, he advanced him to higher Offices, in the Function whereof, we looked upon him without displeasure, so courteously and generously did he make use of his Fortune, and so worthy of it was he esteemed by all the World for the gallant Actions he was daily seen to do. He came at last to be Lieutenant-General under Eurimedes, and in the absence of Eurimedes, no body made any difficulty to receive Orders from him. In brief, Merodates with a puissant Army fell upon us, and it was within two day's Journey of Byzantium, as I told your Majesty before, that Eurimedes was constrained to fight the second Battle, which he lost, and wherein he was killed by Merodates his own hand. His brave young Lieutenant was not present at this Action; for by Eurimedes his Orders, he was gone with Four thousand men to guard a Pass, which a Part of Merodates' Troops would have gained to cut off our Retreat to Byzantium. That Valiant man was Victorious on his side, and the Troops which presented themselves to him, were defeated with so considerable a loss, that if on the other side we had not been absolutely ruined, such a notable advantage was capable of repairing some of our lost Affairs. A few days after, being desperately grieved at the loss of the Battle, and of the General too, he rallied up the Relics of the Army about Byzantium, and though they were in a pitiful condition, yet he made a shift with those which he had saved on his side, to patch up a body, which he entrenched some Furlongs off from Byzantium, having the City behind their backs, that they might receive assistance thence, and make use of it for a retreating place, in case they were forced to it. We had divers persons which in all probability might better pretend to the Command of our Troops, than the young stranger; and yet by the greatness of his Actions and the Affection, which though a stranger, he expressed to our Party, he had so gained the hearts and admiration of all men, that there was no person amongst those which could expect that Command, but prayed him to accept of it, and submitted to him without any mark of repugnance. Not long after, the Victorious Merodates came and encamped before our Trenches, and made divers Attempts to force them; but by the diligence and Valour of our young Chieftain, he had the disadvantage in all the Assaults he made; and believing that he was not obliged to any great circumspection in the Guard of his Camp, because he knew the weakness of our Troops, he gave an opportunity to our valiant Captain to make such a furious Sally one Night upon his men, who were either a sleep, or ill-guarded, That we killed him above Four thousand men upon the place, and returned into our Trenches, having lost but an Hundred men. Merodates was almost in despair at this loss, but a few days after, he thought himself to be in a possibility of Revenge, by reason of a supply of above Fifteen thousand men which came in to him. His Army being thus augmented, he believed he should easily force us in our Lines; and the judgement of our General was, That we could defend them no longer, and therefore he ordered us to retire into the City, which we did in very good order. The next day Merodates passed our Trenches, and laid Siege before Byzantium; but upon his Approaches, there was one of the bravest Combats in the World, in which our chief Commander charged up to Merodates, who fought in the foremost Ranks, and killed his Horse betwixt his Legs. It would be a difficult thing for me, Sir, to relate to your Majesty all the Actions which passed in a Siege but of a few day's continuance; there was not a day, but our General made surious Sallies, and he never returned within the compass of our walls, but covered with the blood of his Enemies, and after he had signalised himself by some admirable Exploit: But the most important Action he did in the judgement of all the best Soldiers, was to sink or burn all the Ships which Merodates had sent to besiege us by Sea, as well as by Land. Our valiant General having put those few Vessels we had in the Haven into a good condition to fight, embarked himself with some choice men, and fell upon the Enemy's Navy with so much Vigour and good Conduct, that though he was weaker in number, he did not fail to burn a great part of it, and took or sunk all the rest before Merodates' face, who from the shore beheld the defeat of his men, without being able to assist them; and yet that he might take advantage by the absence of the General, and those Forces that were engaged with him, he prepared all his Army to give an Assault to the City at the same time; but he thought of it too late, and the forwardest of his men were hardly engaged in fight against those who stayed behind the Inhabitants for the defence of the City; but our Victorious General returned into the City, and came time enough to visit all the places where his presence was necessary, to give Orders, to fight in person with his ordinary Valour: And in brief, to defend our walls with so much Gallantry, that Merodates' Troops were forced to retire thence with loss and confusion. Some days after, this Naval Victory having opened a free passage by Sea, there came to us by the Bosphorus, a considerable supply of men, which Eurimedes had ordered to be raised upon the Coast of Timia, Colonia, and other places near the Euxine Sea, conducted by Euristheus; and our General had no sooner joined them to those which he had before, but he thought himself too strong to be Cooped up, and began to weary his Enemies in such a manner with his continual Sallies, that at last Merodates perceiving very well, that he had no hope to take such a City as Byzantium by force, being defended by such a Governor, and furnished, besides the great Number of Inhabitants, with above Ten thousand Soldiers, resolved to employ his Army against that which remained unconquered in Thrace, and so raised his Siege, after he had lost there, in less than Fifteen days, by Sea and Land, above Twelve thousand men. Our valiant General, though he knew that in drawing his Forces out of the City, he favoured Merodates' Design, who had a great desire to draw them into the Field, went out for all that with a small flying Army, to disturb the Enemy in their march and quarters; which he performed in such a manner, charging them at all the narrow and difficult Passes, giving them Alarms every Night, which made them continually stand to their Arms, depriving them of all their Convoys, and cutting off their Provisions on every side, that Merodates, as we understood by some Prisoners we had taken, was ready to fall into despair. Divers times he would have engaged us to a Battle, but our General not being in a condition with a Body of Six or seven thousand men, to fight an Army of above Thirty thousand, knew very well how to avoid the occasion, and to hinder himself from being forced to it; and always when Merodates sent out any loose Party of his Troops to fall upon us, our brave Captain fought with them with so much Valour, that the Victory was absolutely ours. By this continual torment, he hindered the Enemy from making any progress, and from laying Siege to any of the places which were left untaken. 'Tis but four days since, That he having intelligence that they had a Design against Bergula, which they thought to carry presently, because it was unprovided with Soldiers, though they were already encamped before it, and all the Passages whereby it might be relieved, were sto'pt before our Arrival; yet for all that he fell upon one of the quarters with so much Vigour, that he opened himself a way, and put Six hundred men into the place, leaving about Twelve hundred dead upon the Turf. He is at this present about that place to harass the Army upon all its motions, waiting for greater Forces which are expected from divers parts, which I am sent to meet, whilst Euristheus, with Four thousand Soldiers only, and the Inhabitans, continues Commander in Byzantium. This, Sir, is all the information I can give you of the condition of your Affairs, which certainly have begun to change their face, since the gods for our defence have sent this stranger to command us. He hath not been able with an handful of men to drive out a puissant and victorious Army, commanded by so valiant a Captain as Merodates is; or rather, he hath not been able without men, to recover almost a whole Kingdom which you have lost; but 'tis certain, That he hath defended the remainders of it, after a prodigious manner, he hath very much heartened your Subjects, and disheartened your Enemies, by stopping the course of their Conquests, when they feared no obstacle of their Victory; and by making them lose above Twenty thousand men in the space of Two Months, and fight so valiantly in your quarrel; That if it be the will of the gods, as I hope it is, that you should preserve your Kingdom, 'tis certain that you owe the preservation of it to him.  
Nicocles expressed himself in this manner; and the King, who had harkened to him with wonderful Attention: You have told me strange things, said he, of that man to whom I have so great an obligation; and I really believe, as well as you, that I owe the preservation of my Kingdom to him, if the gods be pleased that the Crown of Thrace shall continue still upon my Head; but in giving me this contracted Relation of his gallant Actions, you have not told me his Name; and though he be a stranger, yet it is not probable but that you know it in all this time. We continued ignorant of it, replied Nicocles, as long as this valiant man continued amongst us without any considerable employment; but when he had made himself known by the brave things he did for your Service, and Eurimedes had advanced him to the dignity of his Lieutenant, we understood that his Name was Ariamenes. At the Name of Ariamenes, which I knew to be that which Ariobarzanes had taken to conceal his true Name, I presently changed colour; and the King who very well remembered the Name of Ariamenes, could not hear it named without trouble and emotion. What said he, with an action which partly expressed the agitation of his Soul, Is your General named Ariamenes? Yes Sir, added Nicocles, and I believe he is an Armenian by Birth, Not long since, replied Adallas, I knew a man of that Name, and such a man as you describe that stranger to be, to whom as Fortune would have it I was beholding for my life; and if it should fall out to be the same to whom I am obliged for the preservation of my Kingdom, I should be the most unhappy Prince upon the Earth. He stopped a while at these words, casting his eyes ever now and then upon my Visage, to observe the changes of it; and really I had much ado to keep my countenance, and there was trouble enough in it to discover part of my thoughts; but when he had kept silence about a quarter of an hour, resuming his Discourse with a more composed Action. There may be divers persons in the world, said he, that bear the Name of Ariamenes, and there is little probability, that a man whom I did so expressly enjoin never to set foot in my Dominions, should be gotten thither so long before me, with so little care of concealing himself, and with so little precaution in relation to his life: We shall see how Fortune hath ordered it, and I heartily desire of the gods, that I may find it to be another Ariamenes.  
Having spoken these words, and endeavouring perfectly to compose himself, he proceeded to question Nicocles concerning the condition of the City, and in what manner he might land there; and being informed that he should find no more hindrance in entering into Byzantium, than if the Kingdom were in a profound peace; he advanced towards the City, under the Conduct of Nicocles, whom he caused to return back to bear him Company. And being it was very early when he met with Nicocles, before the end of that day we arrived at the Port of Byzantium, without finding any other Vessels but our own, which Euristheus by Ariamenes orders, caused to lie out at Sea for the security of our Party; and as soon as they came near us, Nicocles crying immediately out to them, That it was the King; and the King showing him to them, they came about himself with great exclamations of joy, loudly echoing out the Name of their Prince on every side.  
But, my fair Princesses, I am afraid that the length of this Relation is offensive to you, and if you think good, I will defer the remainder of it till to morrow. No, no, interrupted Candace, my dear Princess, in the Name of the gods, do not leave us upon these terms, if you yourself be not incommodated with the pains you take upon this occasion. I would not lose the remainder of it for any thing, except it were to meet with my Cesario; and I assure myself, that the Prince of the Parthians will willingly bestow part of the Night in giving Attention to so lovely a Story. Elisa confirmed Candace's Discourse, by as urgent requests as hers, and the fair Olympia, who desired to please them both as much as possibly she could, continued her Story in these terms.   
The End of the first Book.   

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA; OR, Loves Masterpiece. PART. VII.  
LIB. II.  
ARGUMENT.  
Olympia continues her History. Adallas after his Arrival in Thrace, uses his utmost endeavours to raise Forces for the recovery of his Kingdom; and marches out of Byzantium, to join with Ariamenes; he finds him to be the same that had formerly saved his life. He looks upon him as his Rival, with a furious Jealousy; and being blinded with that passion, notwithstanding the signal Services he had done him, sends him Prisoner to Byzantium, with an intention to sacrifice him to his indignation. Adallas gives Merodates' Battle, who defeats him, and takes him Prisoner. Ariamenes is set at liberty by Olympia, and made General of the remaining Forces. He marches against Merodates, and fights him, kills him with his own hand, and totally routs his Army. He draws Adallas by a neat policy to promise him Olympia, and thereupon restores him to his Crown and Liberty. Adallas is very backward in the performance of his promise, but being urged to it, flies out into fury. At last he seems to be better advised, and sends Olympia with Ariamenes, whose true Name is Ariobarzanes, towards Armenia; but commands Euribiades, who was to conduct them, to throw him into the Sea, and to bring back Olympia. A party in the Ship takes Ariobarzanes 's part; and after a bloody Fight, the remainder of the men on both sides, are taken by Pirates. Ariobarzanes and Olympia are parted. She is carried to Alexandria, and there sold for a Slave. She is bought by Cornelius, and bestowed upon Elisa.  
IT is not necessary that I should give you a particucar Relation of all that passed at our entrance into Byzantium; the King was received there with all manner of Applause, and Acclamations of Joy; and the people which had been, and might be still afraid of falling under the Dominion of a stranger; at this sight of their King, made use of all expressions of rejoicing and tenderness that he could desire. I might be bold to say, that I had my share in that welcome Reception; and I was not so illbeloved amongst my Brother's Subjects, but that I observed a great deal of satisfaction amongst them for my Return. The King as it concerned him, began immediately to take care for the restauration of his Affairs; he visited those few Forces which he had left; he took notice what Arms and Provisions were in the City, and what Number of Inhabitants were capable to bear Arms; he liberally rewarded those who had given him any particular proofs of Fidelity, and sent Messengers to all places which continued under his obedience, to give them intelligence of his Return, and to exhort them to persevere in their first intentions, and to assist him with all the Forces they could raise, to drive his cruel Enemy out of his Dominions, and restore them to Peace and Liberty.  
His urgent Necessities enforced him to bestow some days upon these employments, and for that time I was released from his cruel Persecutions, and had a little more leisure than ordinary to discourse with Ericia concerning those things which troubled me. Truly, my mind had not tasted one jot of Repose, since the time I had understood that the valiant Defender of Thrace was named Ariamenes; and though there was little probability that Ariobarzanes, being known to the King under the Name of Ariamenes, after the cruel threatenings he had made him, should come so suddenly to expose himself to a manifest danger, without taking so much care as to conceal his Name in the Country of so cruel an Enemy; yet by the Report which was made us of his Youth, his Beauty and Valour, and of all the admirable marks by which I knew Ariobarzanes, I could imagine it to be any body else but he; and when Ericia endeavoured to oppose my opinion by contrary probabilities. Ericia, said I, Let us not deceive ourselves, seeing we know not whether the gods send me Ariamenes again, for my good or bad Fortune; this prodigious Valour, this marvellous Beauty which are represented unto us in the person of the brave Defender of Thrace, cannot be in any but our Ariamenes, and any other Ariamenes but ours, would want some of these admirable parts which Ariobarzanes is composed of. This bold confidence which he hath to come and cast himself into the Arms of his Enemy, doth really proceed from that Courage which we have observed in him. That great Courage makes him believe, that he ought not to fear a man to whom he is not inferior; and that persuades him, that without baseness and unworthiness, he could not disguise in his Dominions, that Name under which he had formerly made himself known to him; and besides he may probably believe, that after he hath done such great Services for the King, or rather, after he hath preserved his Kingdom by his Valour only, he might present himself to him under the same Name of the Defender of his life. Howsoever it be, Ericia, my heart tells me, that it is no other Ariamenes but mine; and that he loves me sufficiently, to undertake more difficult, and more dangerous things upon my Account; I know not whether I shall be deceived or not, but in this uncertainty, Ericia, I am ignorant whether I should rejoice, or afflict myself. 'Tis true, I cannot but be very joyful to understand that Ariobarzanes is not far from us, & that the King is newly obliged to him for the preservation of his Kingdom, and yet I cannot but tremble for fear, when I know that he comes to expose himsef to the cruelty of a jealous King, who hath so terribly threatened him. I told him indeed, That he should gain the King's good will by submission and Services, but I did not desire that he should move him, or serve him in such a dangerous manner; or rather, I did not desire that he should use so little caution in the preservation of a life which is more dear to me than mine own. These were almost the very words I spoke to Ericia: and that affectionate Maid making her real thoughts give way in part to the desire she had to comfort me, represented to me, that though this Ariamenes were the real Ariobarzanes, yet I could have no reason to fear any thing upon his Account, and that the King, without rendering himself detestable to all the World, could not conserve one thought of enmity against him, after he had received such important Services from him, there was more probability that Adallas would make all his resentments give place to others more full of reason and acknowledgement; and if Ariobarzanes discovered himself to be what really he was, he might expect the recompense he pretended to, from a King so mightily obliged to him. I partly flattered myself with Ericia's Discourse, and did neither quite reject it, nor absolutely give credit to it.  
The King was no less troubled in mind than I, at this Name of Ariamenes; but that he could not imagine, that any man would have been so bold, as to come alone to brave him so publicly in his Kingdom, after the prohibitions he made him to the contrary: so he began to change the opinion he had received, that it might be he; and not being ignorant how much need he had still of the Valour and Service of that stranger, whosoever he might be, he desired, in giving him intelligence of his Arrival, to assure him of his Acknowledgement, and to confirm him in the zeal which he expressed for his Service. Upon this Design, sending one of his Servants to him with orders to consult with him concerning all necessary Affairs, he gave him a Letter, of which, I believe, these were the very words.  
Adallas King of Thrace, to the General Ariamenes.  
I Should be ungrateful, if I did not confess, that I owe to your Valour and generous Assistance, the preservation of whatsoever is left me in my Dominions; and though you are but a stranger, you have done that for a Prince, to whom you had no obligation, which possibly the most faithful Subjects never did for their lawful Prince. I have no recompense to offer you which can equalise the greatness of your Services; but if your gallant Actions can find any elsewhere, besides in the glory of the performance of them, you shall make your own choice in a Kingdom, where all things shall be at the Service of its valiant Defender.  
If the King had sent one of those men to Ariamenes, who had made the Voyage with him, he might have been satisfied at his return of the truth of his doubts; but, whether it was by chance, or by design, he put Nicocles upon the employment, the same that we met at Sea, who had never seen the face of Ariamenes, but in Thrace. However it was, Nicocles went to find him out, with order to confer with him about the King's designs, and to understand the condition of his Forces, and of the Enemy's Army. In the mean time the Kingreceived the same day by Sea, the supplies which Nicocles had made mention of to him; and he hoped, that within a few days, from the places which continued under his obedience, and had not as yet been attempted by the Enemies, he should receive Forces considerable enough to take the Field, and go and join with Ariamenes, in a condition to give Battle to Merodates. He had reason to expect this Recruit, for the Levies were begun before the death of Eurimedes, and continued afterwards by the care of Ariamenes, so that in all likelihood they were in a condition to march. Since the time we had arrived at Byzantium, the King forgot nothing that was to be done, in order to their employment in his Service at their Arrival; and in the interim, Nicocles being returned, and having informed him, that Ariamenes with his small Body, attended still upon Merodates his Army, and had no other design at present, but to raise the Siege of Bergula, which the Enemies had invested, he gave him his Letter, which contained these words.  
The Stranger Ariamenes, to the King of Thrace.  
THE Services which I have rendered your Majesty, are too inconsiderable to merit the acknowledgement which you vouchsafe them, and I have been too well paid for the assistance I have given to your Subjects, by the honour they have done me, in making me their General. 'Tis an honour that I never was ambitious of, because I deserved it not; and yet I did not refuse it, because it gave me an opportunity to serve you; I will resign it into the hands of that person whom your Majesty shall judge worthy to command your Troops; and while it is in mine, I will behave myself in it with all the fidelity you might expect from the most affectionate of your Subjects.  
By these words, which made no mention of what was past, nor expressed any precedent Acquaintance, the King still persuaded himself, that this Ariamenes was not the Ariamenes that he was afraid of; and I confess, that when he read them in my presence, I became partly of his opinion, and lost some part either of the hope or the fear which I had conceived. In the mean time, the News came to the King the next day, that Ariamenes with a part of his small Body, had cut in pieces Four thousand men, whom Merodates had sent to guard a Convoy; and did so weaken him by degrees, that if the Destinies continued to be favourable to him, in a small time Merodates would have no advantage in the Field. This News filled the King's heart with fresh hopes, and to augment them the more, within less than six days, there came from the Coasts of Thinia, Three thousand Horse; and from Halmidassus, and the Promontory of Philia, above Seven thousand Foot. With this grand supply, and Four thousand Soldiers which were still in the City, the King, who had intelligence besides, that Four or five thousand men, raised in the Country of Apollonia, were gone to join with Ariamenes' Troops, would stay no longer in Byzantium; and leaving only the Inhabitants for the defence of the City, he made up a Body of about Fifteen thousand men, which he was resolved to lead in person towards that which Ariamenes commanded, which at that time wanted very little of being as strong as the King's.  
I continued in the City at some liberty from the importunity which I received continually from the King, and yet so strictly guarded, though under pretence of doing me honour, that if I would have undertaken a second flight, it would not have been in my power to have done it. In the interim, my fair Princesses, without my troubling you with a long Narration, you may imagine what the perplexities were which tormented me, and how my spirit was continually agitated between hope and fear, the desire of seeing Ariobaozanes again, and the fear lest he should throw himself into too great a danger for the sight of me. I should never have done, if I should go about to represent to you all the thoughts which possessed me, and repeat all the Discourses I had with Ericia upon that Subject. I will proceed with the remainder of my Story, and will tell you, That upon the third day of his march, the King arrived at Ariamenes' quarters, from whence the General came forth at the Head of Five hundred Horse to receive him, about a Hundred Furlongs from off his Camp. The King no sooner saw the body appear, but he knew that it was that valiant man to whom he was so redueable, and disposing himself to receive him according to the greatness of the obligation he had to him, he caused the Troops that marched before him, to open to the right and left, to give him free passage. The valiant Ariamenes, as I was informed since, wore Arms that day all glittering with gold and precious stones; a little Morion, after the Greek fashion, shaded with Twenty white Feathers, covered the top of his Head, leaving his Face all uncovered, and a great quantity of Hair naturally Curled, which fell in great rings as low as his Armour; his Horse was black, bedapled with white spots, whose gallant stately Pace was less remarkable, than the good Grace and Horsemanship of him that road him. Before he came to the King, he was looked upon with so much Admiration by all that stood in his way, that they could not forbear to express it by their Acclamations, which came to the King's ears, and caused a greater curiosity in him to see such an extraordinary person.  
As soon as Ariamenes saw the King, he alighted to accost him with the Respect due to the Royal Dignity, and in the Head of his Party, he marched towards him with such a Majesty, as could not be found in any common person. As he drew near, the King took notice of his proportion and countenance, and when he was nigh enough to be plainly discerned, the King without difficulty, knew him to be the true Ariamenes, that Ariamenes whom he hated, as much as I loved him; and the same Ariamenes, to whom he was reducable for his life. Never was astonishment like to that of Adallas, and never in the most surprising Adventure did a mind appear so troubled, as Adallas' did at this sight. He stood as immovable as a piece of Marble, and Ariamenes, though he observed his emotion, accosted him with a confident countenance, did reverence to him with a great deal of grace and humility, the King not using any gesture, whereby it might be judged that he perceived his action. Ariamenes, who was prepared for part of what he saw, did not seem ever a jot the more daunted for it, and beginning to speak with an action that sufficiently expressed his confidence, whilst the King, and all that were about him, made their silence speak the greatness of their astnishment. Sir, said he, If I have offended in disobeying the Command which you laid upon me, I come to put the Offender into the hands of your Justice; and if by some small Service I have repaired part of that fault, I come to beg my pardon for the recompense that is due to me for it.  
This first Discourse of Ariamenes, though it was bold, and proceeded from a Courage truly Royal, yet it was full of humility, and did sufficiently express the intention he had, according to the request I made to him, to work upon Adallas his spirit, by submission and services. But the King was not so sensible of it, as probably he should have been, and beholding Ariamenes with eyes sparkling with rage, What Audaciousness, said he, and what foolish rashness is this of thine, to come, after the express prohibition I had made thee, not only to show thyself publicly in my Dominions, but to put thyself in the Head of my Subjects, and to present thyself to me with as much assurance, as if I were not thy irreconcilable Enemy, and as if I had not protested to thee before all the gods, That no consideration should save thy life, if thou ever didst set foot in Thrace? It may be, replied Ariobarzanes, I came into your Country by chance, and the desire of doing you Service, hath stayed me there; I have done it possibly with success enough, and if I have resolved to declare my Name, and to present myself before you, after the threatenings you had made me, 'tis at a time, when for the Service I have rendered you, I might expect from a Soul that is truly Royal, more recompenses, than punishments; and more acknowledgement, than ill usage. Thou knowest, said Adallas, full of fury, That the most pressing obligations cannot produce that effect between us; and that the same necessity which possibly made me to be ungrateful to thee, when I was beholding to thee for my life, will not permit me to look upon those less important Services which thou hast rendered me in the defence of my Dominions. Besides, Thou canst not deny, but that thy ruin appears more odious now than formerly, and thou couldst not come into Thrace, through so many dangers as threatened thee, but by the instigation of thy Love, and, it may be, of Olympia's Commands. Thou comest to ruin the Repose of my Soul, in endeavouring the peace of my Kingdom; and thou wast not ignorant, that the injury thou didst me in my heart, was more sensible to me, than the Service thou could dost render me in the defence of my Kingdom. After all this, judge what thy destiny ought to be, and do not complain of me, if that which thou didst expect from a King obliged to thy Valour, be not found in an injured and desperate Love.  
As he finished the words, he turned towards Sosias and Eusthenes, the Captains of his Guards, and commanded them to seize upon the person of Ariamenes, and to be responsible for him upon pain of death. At this Command, all those who had followed Ariamenes, and who with the rest of the Army, had conceived a marvellous Affection for him, could not forbear to murmur aloud at it, and those that came along with the King, who were acquainted with the merit and services of Ariamenes, could not hear it without a deal of displeasure. Ariamenes seemed to be the least tcoubled at it, and if he was, was only with some motions of Choler, and that Passion, of which till then he had rendered himself Master, upon the consideration of his Love, could not be so absolutely restrained in a fierce and fiery spirit as Ariobarzanes' was, but that at last it would in some measure appear. I should lie, said he to the King, If I should say, that I expected any other usage from thee; and thy Actions have so much congruity with that gallant Passion, by which thou wouldst excuse thy ingratitude, that the value of thy life and Kingdom could not make me expect any other recompense, than what thou bestowest upon me. It suffices me for my satisfaction, to see thee declare that thou art beholding to me for thy life, before those who know already, that thou art obliged to me for the preservation of thy Kingdom; and I am sufficiently satisfied and revenged upon thee, by the shame which I leave thee, for using those so, to whom thou confessest that thou owest thy Crown and Life.  
After these words, seeing Sosias and Eusthenes, though very much troubled at the employment, to draw near him, and demand his Sword: This Sword, said he, laying his hand upon the Hilt, hath done too good service in the defence of your King and you, to endure to pass out of my hand into hands unworthy to bear it; but seeing that it is to no purpose to defend it against an Army, I render it to the Princess Olympia: and 'tis to her only, continued he, throwing it at Sosia's feet; that I charge you to present it, as being the only person in Thrace, who can deserve that honour, and that hath reason to glory, that she hath made Ariamenes, yield up his Arms.  
These words, pronounced with an admirable Grace, reinflamed the King's anger afresh, and not being able to dissemble it, Thou hast pronounced the sentence of thine own death, said he, in pronouncing the Name of Olympia; and that fatal Love whereof thou makest so public a Declaration, in throwing thyself into thy Grave, shall give a fair example to such audacious Youngsters as thou art, to be more regular in their Ambition. Thou may'st judge what thou pleasest of my thoughts, replied Ariamenes; but if I love the Princess Olympia, know she is not offended by my Love, as she is highly injured by thine; and seeing that I am neither her Brother, as thou art, nor of a Birth inferior to hers, she might receive that from me without wronging herself, which she cannot endure from thee without detestation. Upon these words the King had almost made his indignation appear in some Tragical effect, and seeing himself covered with shame and confusion, by the reproaches of Ariamenes, he was ready to run him through with his Sword; at last retaining himself, though with much difficulty: I endure any thing, said he, from a man whom I can punish at my pleasure, a man devoted to death by my just resentments, and his own confession. Take him out of my presence, and whilst there is order taken for his punishment, we will learn if his Birth be not inferior to mine. Thou shalt know it possibly, replied Ariamenes, sooner than thou desirest; and upon this hint which I have given thee, consider more than once, how thou wilt proceed against the Son of a greater King than he of Thrace. Having spoken these words, he turned another way without having any longer Conversation with the King, who being unwilling to have him conducted into the Army, where he was adored by his Soldiers, and where he was afraid of some Commotion, if the Soldiery had seen their valiant General a Prisoner, commanded Eusthenes to carry him to Byzantium, with a Convoy of Five hundred Horse, and to stay there to Guard him, till he received farther Orders; but he expressly forbade him, upon pain of death, to permit me to see him, protesting to him, That if any such thing happened, he would never pardon him.  
Eusthenes having received this Order with regret, and yet being forced to obey it, caused Ariamenes to mount upon another Horse instead of his own, and putting him into the middle of the Troop which was to conduct him, he caused him to march towards Byzantium. Before that he arrived there, the Report of his being taken, and of all that had passed upon this occasion, was already spread abroad, and I was one of the first persons that had the Relation brought to them. You may imagine what effect this News produced upon my spirit, and you need not doubt but this sad Adventure made me fall into the most violent grief that any Soul could be sensible of. Indeed the danger whereunto I saw this young Prince, whom I loved, as much as his merit and affection did oblige me to do, exposed for the love of me, did so nearly touch me, that I should tell you nothing but the Truth, if I should protest to you, That I would willingly have been in his place, and have been made the mark of all the mischief that was aimed at him. By the new proofs which he had given me of his Affection, in coming without any care of his life, to make such a generous and noble search after opportunities of seeing me, and serving his most cruel Enemy upon my-Account, he had, as I conceived, so far obliged me, That I could not without ingratitude, deny him as much Affection as he expressed to me. And in that, my fair Princesses, I acquitted myself as I ought, loving him as dearly, and as sincerely as my Soul was capable to do; O gods! what did I not think? what did I say at this cruel News? And what Testimonies did I not give to all the persons which came near me, how much I interested myself in this Accident! One while I complained of the cruelty and ingratitude of Adallas, which could not but render him odious to all the world, for the unworthy usage which he showed to the valiant Defender of his Dominions, and the preserver of his life. Another while, I accused Ariobarzanes of rashneness, and want of consideration, as to my Repose, for coming and casting himself so imprudently into the hands of a man almost mad with Jealousy, who had so seriously threatened him; and sometimes I checked myself, knowing very well that I had partly contributed to this disaster, by the indulgence which I had showed to the Affection of Ariobarzanes, or rather to mine own, which made me approve of all that the young Prince could undertake to see and serve me. Upon these considerations, I almost drowned myself in tears, and did so afflict myself, that had it not been for Ericia's comforting of me, I believe my grief would have been able to have laid me in my Grave.  
In the mean while, it was no small consolation to me in my displeasure, to see how all the world participated in it; and the Inhabitants of Byzantium, who a few days before had seen Ariamenes behave himself with so much Generosity and Valour in the defence of their lives and liberties, or rather had looked upon him as their miraculous perserver, and had still a fresh remembrance of the prodigious Actions which they had seen him do for their interest, could not see him brought prisoner into their City, being accused for nothing but for loving the Princess Olympia, without expressing publicly how much they were discontented at it, and plainly declaring, That the King did very ill to Treat a man so, to whom he was indebted for his Crown, and to whom, by his own confession, he was beholding for his life too. And when Eusthenes caused him to pass through the streets, to convey him to the place where they were wont to secure considerable prisoners, he could hardly hinder the people from breaking out into Sedition, and attempting to take him by violence out of his hands.  
What fear soever I had of exasperating the King's spirit, yet not believing that it was any longer necessary to use so much dissimulation to please a Prince who did not Treat me, nor look upon me as his Sister, I sent presently to demand of Eusthenes, if I might not be permitted to see Ariobarzanes. But he came himself to make his own Apology, and to tell me, That the King had expressly forbidden him upon pain of death. This redoubling of my grief, made me fly out more than possibly I should have done, and I could not forbear, in Eusthenes his presence, to exceed the bounds of moderation, which till then I had better observed. Well, said I to him, with my eyes covered with tears, Let the King finish his shameful persecutions with the utmost cruelties that he can exercise against me, and let him join to that horrible and foolish passion which already renders him the Fable of the whole world, a cruelty and an ingratitude towards his generous Deliverer, which will make is Name detestable to all Princes; He cannot render himself blacker than he is, neither can he ever work any thing upon Olympia's spirit, but horror and repugnance. After I had spoken these words, I shut myself up in my Closet, where I passed the remainder of that day in the saaddest contid on imaginable. The next day I received a Letter from the King, by a Messenger whom he sent from the Camp, whereof these were the very words.  
The King of Thrace, to the Princess Olympia.  
IT is no time for you to deny that which Ariamenes himself hath openly declared to me. He loves you, Madam, and is beloved by you. The knowledge of this, is sufficient to be the death of Adallas; but it is capable too, of making him sacrifice that Rival to his just resentments. I owe very much to him without doubt; but, according to the sense of Nature, I owe no less to myself; and I had rather slain my reputation a little with ingratitude, than make the preservation of his life an eternal torment to mine own. In brief, Olympia, as our common misfortune will have it, he must die, and die he shall, without doubt; if to save a man whom you love, but ought not to love, you do not bestow yourself upon him whom you● love not, but aught to love. If you make this attempt upon your inclinations of his safety, he will have no cause to accuse you; and doubtless he will have reason to complain for you at his death, if you refuse to save his life, the preservation whereof depends upon you. Consult with your affection hereupon, and be resolved with yourself, that you cannot preserve the life of Ariamenes, but by bestowing Olympia upon me.  
You may very well comprehend, my fair Princesses, how much this Letter augmented my Affliction, and you need not doubt, but that I found a great occasion to torment myself in that cruel choice which Adallas presented to me. This Letter made me weep, it made me deplore my misfortune in very pitiful expressions, and make imprecations too against the cruelties of this unnatural Brother. But whatsoever care I had of the safety of Ariobarzanes, or whatsoever fear I might receive from the menaces of Adallas I did not waver at all in the resolution I was to take; and knowing very well, that Ariobarzanes would not take it as a Courtesy to receive his life at my hands, if he must purchase it by my bestowing myself upon his Rival, I consulted no farther, either with my Affection, or my Duty, what Answer I should return to Adallas, but sent it him immediately by the man which had brought me his Letter; and I believe I wrote to him in these, or the like words.  
The Princess Olympia, to the King of Thrace.  
I Could not hear of the Captivity of Ariamenes, without bearing a share with all your faithful Subjects in their affliction for the misfortune of their valiant Defender. That Captive whom you intent to put to death before you know him, might expect other recompense from you, and you would not be in a condition to threaten his life, if he had neglected the preservation of yours; nor to keep him Prisoner in Byzantium, if at the rate of his own blood he had not defended the walls of it. His destiny is in your hands, or rather in the hands of the gods, whose power is superior to that of Kings, and who may still put you into a condition of having need of an Ariamenes. If I could contribute to his safety, doubtless I would do it at any rate but what you demand: But as for that, 'tis possible that Ariamenes himself would not accept of his life upon these conditions, but would be generous enough not to desire that I should save it by so horrible an action. If he does not love me, I should be too blame to do that for the preservation of his life, which I have always avoided at the peril of mine own; and if he does love me, as you accuse him, he will receive his death more cruelly, by my bestowing Olympia upon you, than by those means which you have to destroy him. In brief, if the gods will have him live, they can free him out of your hands; and if he must die, I had rather that he should die by your ingratitude, than by mine.  
Though these words, if you take them in a contrary sense to mine, expressed some indifference as to Ariobarzanes' life, and though it was my intention too to persuade the King that I loved him less than I did; yet the gods know, that his life was dearer to me than mine own, and I would willingly have given mine (if Adallas would have been so contented) for the preservation of his. But though by a prodigious change, I could have wrought my inclinations to Adallas' will, yet I had too good an opinion of the Affection and Courage of Ariobarzanes, to believe that he would receive his life in exchange of his hopes, or consent, upon any consideration, that to purchase his liberty, I should throw myself into that misfortune which I had so much avoided, and against which I had so much horror and repugnance. Besides, I could not absolutely believe, that the King, whatsoever he threatened, was resolved to put him to death, after such pressing and known obligations; and it was probable, that unless he had the heart of a Tiger, and his eyes closed against all considerations of honour, Adallas would never proceed to those extremities. In the interim, I found a way to prevail with Eusthenes, who of himself was not disaffected to Ariobarzanes, not to permit me to see him, but to give way that I might have a Note conveyed to him by Erieia's Brother, who was in my Service, and in whom I had a great deal of confidence; the Note was in these terms.  
The Princess Olympia, to Ariamenes.  
IF you were in another Condition, doubtless I should complain of the injury you have done me in coming, as you have done, to cast away a life which you know is not indifferent to me; but it would ill become me to reproach you, whilst you are a Prisoner for my sake; and I ought rather to use my endeavours to set you free at any rate, but what is demanded of me, in expectation of a better opportunity to accuse you of the little care you have had of your own safety and my repose. You may judge how far I participate in your disgrace, by the interest I have in it, and the thoughts I have for you; they are, and always shall be such as are due to the merit of your person and affection, and I should render myself unworthy of the testimonies you have given me of it, if I did not look upon your misfortunes as mine own.  
Ariobarzanes received a great deal of consolation by the reading of my Letter, and as nothing was capable of making any strong impression upon so great a Courage as his, but what had relation to his love; so he was more contented in his imprisonment after this testiomony of my Affection, than he could have been in the absolute enjoyment of his liberty, if he had been uncertain what thoughts I had for him. By the liberty which Eusthenes gave him to do it (yet with all possible secrecy) he had the means to discourse with Euricia's Brother, whom I sent to him, and who, according to the charge I had given him to that purpose gave him a full Account in what manner I supported his Captivity, how I dealt with the King upon that Account, and how I was resolved not to suffer him to perish upon my occasion, without bearing of him Company. Ariobarzanes received these marks of my friendship, with all the testimonies of a perfect acknowledgement; and after he had expressed as much to Ericia's Brother in the most ecstatical words that the most violent Affection could furnish him withal, he gave him a Letter with the same secrecy and precaution, whereof these were the words.  
Ariamenes, to the Princess Olympia.  
I Do not think myself unfortunate, since that my fair Princess takes a share in my misfortune, and my Fetters are now more worthy of Envy, than Commiseration. I beg your pardon for what I have undertaken, to gain a sight of you; I cannot justify myself in it, since you have received some displeasure upon that Account. But in truth, it was a very difficult thing to have seen, to have adored the Princess Olympia, and to live without a second sight of her. 'Tis true, that happiness which hath been sought with some danger, and is of too high a value to be obtained any other way, is cruelly denied me. And this, my fair Princess, is all the misfortune of my life, and all that can be worthy of pity in my condition. I am too much obliged to your goodness, for having refused those conditions which the King hath offered you for my safety, and, as you know very well, that no consideration could have rendered you excusable of a crime before the gods or men, if you had accepted of them; so you are not ignorant, that by bestowing the Princess Olympia upon Adallas, you would put Ariamenes to a far more cruel death, than Adallas could do either by Sword or Poison. I will not go about to confirm you in that resolution, being sufficiently acquainted with your virtue, to believe, that it will be as immovable, as the fidelity of Ariamenes.  
His Letter was of no larger extent, though he had matter enough, because he left it to Ericia's Brother to acquaint me with all their Discourse. He did so divers times, because I took a pleasure to make him repeat all the words which he had heard from Ariobarzanes' mouth; and by the Relation which he made me of his passionate Discourse, and his resolution to suffer a thousand deaths for my sake, if he was capable of suffering so many, with joy and patience; he did so confirm me in the affection I had for him, that he would have been unjust, if he had desired any more of me, But alas! after I had done discoursing with Ericia's Brother, I had scarcely read over this Letter once more, but I received another from the King, which turned me into Ice with fear; and these were the very expressions of it.  
The King of Thrace, to the Princess Olympia.  
YOU have signed the death of Ariamenes by the Letters which you wrote to me; and since you consent to his death, all humane considerations shall not be able to secure him from it. I should have given you your share of the spectacle which I intent, before this, but that I was minded to participate of it myself, and am detained here by some occasions which are strong enough to retard my vengeance a few days. I am marching to give Merodates' Battle, and to morrow, without any farther delay, the decision of our Fortune will appear. After my Victory, I will turn all my Arms against Ariamenes; and when I shall have no other Enemies to fight with, I shall the better execute my vengeance against the last, and the most dangerous of my Enemies.  
I know not how very well to represent to you what my resentments were upon the reading of this Letter, and I had much ado to contain myself within the limits of that respect and consideration which was due to Adallas; I returned him no Answer in writing, but contented myself only to say to him who brought me his Letter, Tell the King, that the success of Battles is in the hands of the gods, and that he ought not to dispose so confidently of that which he will do after the Victory; and yet his threatings shall not hinder me from praying to the gods for the prosperity of his Arms, and the interest of my Country; but let him consider more than twice, what will be the event of the design which he hath against Ariamenes 's life, and let him expect, if he treats him ill, to draw upon himself a greater and more puissant Enemy, than Merodates is.  
I will not trouble you with the Relation of my fears and inquietudes; but, to abridge this Narration, I will pass to Adallas' Camp, and will tell you, that the King my Brother seeing his Forces augmented, and those of his Enemy weakened, thought himself strong enough to give him Battle; and his passion depriving him in part of his ordinary rationality, and hindering him from foreseeing all the consequences that might happen thereupon, he dared Merodates to an Encounter, and marched out of his Camp to advance towards him. Merodates' being a very valiant and well experienced Captain, and who might with less hazard give Battle in his Enemy's Country, than if he had been in his own, joyfully accepted of it, and marched to meet Adallas in the best order that can be imagined. I will not entertain you either with the preparations, or the particulars of that day's Action, having too little skill in War to be able to give you a pertinent Account; I will only tell you, that after both Princes had provided on either side whatsoever they thought necessary for their advantage, they gave Battle: The Engagement was cruel and doubtful, the Commanders and Soldiers did wonders, and disputed the advantage with the effusion of a great deal of blood, and the death of divers thousands of men. But at last the same Fortune which had accompanied Merodates in the two former Battles, attended him likewise in the third, and about the end of the day, our Troops turning their backs, abandoned the Victory to him, and the liberty of their King. Who scorning to owe his safety to a base flight, and fight with a great deal of Valour, was thrown to the ground, and taken Prisoner with divers of his Soldiers, who were resolved to be Companions of his destiny. Behold the success of the proud and insolent Propositions of men, and behold this ingrateful and audacious Prince, who a few hours before, hasting, as he thought, to a Victory, only to go and sheathe his Sword in the bosom of his Benefactor, saw himself the same day a Prisoner to his Enemy, and to such an Enemy, who, to confirm his Conquest, which was but ill-assured, so long as the lawful King of Thrace was living, was very likely to make use of the same designs against him, which he had against Ariamenes, and might do it with so much the more Justice, because that in putting him to death, he should only destroy an Enemy, whom a Conqueror could not in policy permit to live, and not the Deliverer and Defender of his State and life.  
I do not doubt but that the unfortunate Adallas made these reflections in his imprisonment, and was cruelly tormented with Sorrow, Fear, and Repentance. Yet Merodates treated him very civilly; and though the greatest Politicians about him, counselled him to send him out of the World as soon as might be, and represented to him, that after his death he need not fear any opposition in Thrace, where otherwise he could never hope to be quiet, as long as Adallas was living; yet he was not forward to frame any such resolution, but believed that the death of a great King was not of so small a consequence, to be so suddenly and so easily resolved upon. Besides, in gaining the Victory, he had lost almost as many men as we, and his Forces not being in a condition to make a hot pursuit, gave time to ours to retire under the conduct of some of their Commanders, who led them back towards Byzantium in good order. This consideration making Merodates' judge, that as yet he was not absolute Master of Thrace, especially as long as Ariamenes, whose Valour he was too well acquainted with, and whose confinement he had heard of, was in the service of his Enemy, hindered him from determining what to do with him, and contented himself at present to keep him in secure Custody, causing him to be served like a Prince in his condition. He had the curiosity to see him the same day that he was taken, and though in other things he carried himself very modestly towards him, yet he could not forbear to tell him, That the gods had punished him for two Crimes, wherewith his Reputation was very much blemished in the eye of the world, which were, his unjust and irrational love to his Sister, and his ingratitude towards his Benefactor; and to these words, added he, You, were much to blame, to deprive yourself, in a time of necessity, of such an assistance as you had received from the Valour of Ariamenes: had it not been for him; I had been long since Master of Thrace; and if he had commanded your Troops this day, I durst not have promised myself that I should have been, Victorious. The King being full of grief and confusion, gave no Answer to Merodates' words, wherein, he knew there was a great deal of Justice and Truth; and Merodates not desiring to make any insolent use of his Fortune, did not importune him any farther.  
In the mean time, my fair Princesses, you may partly conjecture what my thoughts were, when this News was brought to Byzantium, and how my Soul was divided between the passions which assaulted it. 'Tis certain, that I was sorry to hear of the defeat of our men, the loss of a Kingdom, which in all probability was upon the brink of ruin; and the Captivity of a Prince; who, though he had not those intentions for me which he ought, was nevertheless my Brother, and my King. The gods are my witnesses, that I was very much afflicted at his misfortune and ours; but they will pardon me, and you too, my princesses, if I confess to you, That the repugnance which I had against Adallas' love, the resentment wherein I did very much interes● myself, of his ingratitude to Ariamenes: and the● sear I was in for Ariobarzanes' life, did so suspend the judgement I should have made of my Fortune, that certainly I did not bestow all the tears I should have done, upon the calamity of our Family, and which, at another time, without doubt, I should have shed. I could not think with myself that the King my Brother was a Prisoner to his Enemies, and in great danger of his life; that the Affairs of the Kingdom were in an undone condition, and that we were in all probability, upon the point of seeing ourselves exposed to the miseries of Tyranny and Captivity, without being sensible of a great deal of displeasure: But upon the other side, I could not conceive that I was freed from the cruel importunity of Adallas, that Ariamenes had escaped the cruel design which he had taken against his life, and that I might possibly have the opportunity to restore him absolutely to his liberty, and to put him again into a condition of giving me new marks of his Affection, without receiving a great deal of comfort upon that score; and the gods were pleased immediately to make it as complete as I could desire. For the Inhabitants of Byzantium had no sooner heard of the loss of the Battle, and the Captivity of the King, but, after they had bestowed a few hours upon the first Alarms, and the first Affright which ordinarily renders the people incapable of all resolution, after they had replenished the City with their cries and groans, rather out of fear, and the consideration of their own interest, than out of the love they bore to their Prince. They assembled at last in great Troops, and putting the most considerable men foremost, they marched towards the Palace where I was, crying out aloud in the streets, That I was their only lawful Princess, and that in the Absence and Captivity of their King, they could address themselves to no body but me, nor receive Orders from any one but myself. No body contradicted this Discourse of the people; or, if it was disapproved by some, their Party was the weaker, and they durst not rely upon it. You need not doubt, but that I received a great deal of satisfaction, when I saw all the people at my feet, to give me the absolute Command over them, and to pray me to advise with my Council to find some means to save the remainders of Thrace, if it was possible.  
I could not have wished for an handsomer occasion of setting Ariamenes at liberty, and seeing the people so well disposed to follow my will; My Friends, said I to the chief of them, the King hath great cause to be satisfied in your Fidelity, and I will acquaint him with it, when the gods shall be pleased to restore him to us; but I am too weak to undertake your defence, and the recovery of his liberty; you have need of some valiant man to repulse the fury of your Enemies, which threatens your gates and lives, and to command the remainder of your Forces. The people having signified to me by their loud out-cries, That they approved of my opinion, and having prayed me divers times to appoint them a Commander, Where can you find one, added I, than in the person of Ariamenes? Was it not he, that with a handful of men defended your Walls against the same Enemies that threaten you? Was it not he, that repulsed them with loss and confusion, though they were much stronger than now they are? Was it not he, that defeated them by Sea, and by Land, in all manner of Encounters? And briefly, Was it not he alone, that saved you either from death or Captivity? What hinders you from knocking off his Fetters, which he wears for nothing else but for having defended you too well? and from making him once more your General? Go, my friends, and restore liberty to your generous Defender, to a great Prince, who of his own good will, hath been prodigal of his blood and life for your interests; to the Son of a great King, whom your King being reduable to him for his life, and the preservation of his Dominions, hath imprisoned only upon a motive which honest Men, and his faithful Subjects cannot approve of. Do not fear that your Prince will complain of you, if you restore him to liberty, he will only make use of it to endeavour his; and besides the assurance I give you, that the King will look upon this Action, as the greatest Service he could receive from you, if there be any fault, lay it all upon me seeing I advise and order you to do it, and I will go along with you myself to put that in execution which I have propounded to you.  
These words being pronounced with a great deal of Action, were so far from finding any contradiction, that they were seconded by a general shout of all the people, who publicly desired Ariamenes, and began to proclaim his praises, and the greatness of his Actions with so much affection, that it easily made me understand, that by the Proposition I had made to them, I had only prevented the Design which they had to desire him of me. Eusthenes himself who had him in Custody, signified to me, That he desired nothing but an absolute Command from me for his discharge to the King. And in fine, having found all the facility I could desire, I was willing to render the Prince some part of what I owed him, to go break his Chains myself, and draw him out of a danger whereinto he was fallen only for the love of me. This Action had something of very handsome in it, and being attended by all the people who loudly echoed out the Name of Ariamenes, I went to the place where he was imprisoned, I caused the Gates to be opened to me with Authority; and being accompanied by the principal Citizens of Byzantium, I went to his very chamber. He had already heard of the Success of the Battle, and the King's being taken, and that was it which hindered him from being surprised, as he would have been without doubt at another time. He seemed for all that to be very much astonished at the sight of me, and running to me, after he had employed some moments in recollecting himself, he fell upon his knees before me without speaking a word. My confusion was no less than his, out of the fear I had to express my Affection too largely in this Encounter: And yet summoning up all my Courage to assist me in the Action which I was to do, after I had reached him my hand to raise him up: We come, said I, to free you from a place, where the Thracians cannot without too much shame behold their valiant Defender; and we are sorry, that we cannot acknowledge the greatness of your Services, by a recompense more worthy of you. Receive Ariamenes, receive your liberty from the hand of Olympia, but, for her sake, endeavour the recovery of the King her Brother's freedom with your accustomed Valour; and in regard of the Service you receive from the Sister, forget the offence you have received from the Brother. I hope thus much from your Generosity, and upon that confidence, I desire you, together with all the people who implore your assistance, to reassume the Command which heretofore you accepted over them, and over the Force which are left us, and to employ that Valour whereof you have given them such admirable proofs for their protection, and the safety of their Prince.  
Ariobarzanes harkened to all this Discourse upon his knees, and beginning to speak in the same posture after I had done speaking: Madam, said he, I receive the liberty you restore me, and the Command you lay upon me, with that respect I ought to do; and looking upon your benefits as favours which I have not merited, I will likewise look upon the usage which I have received from the King your Brother, rather as a just Chastisement, than as an injury. That which my memory may retain of it, shall not hinder me from employing my life still in his Service; and though I may expect to be requited for it, as I was for the rest of my former Actions, yet I find a very glorious recompense in the honour of obeying you, and I will neglect nothing, that I may worthily acquit myself of the employment which you bestow upon me, having such a Number of persons about you amongst whom you might make a more just Election. This was the Answer which he returned me in the presence of all the Company: and rising up at my Request, he went out of the Prison, and being followed by a numerous multitude of people, he reconducted me to the Palace.  
Though Love at that time was possibly the most powerfully predominant in him, yet his first cares were employed in the functions of the charge which he had reassumed, and with an admirable Generosity trampling under foot the injury which he had freshly received from Adallas, he had nothing so strongly imprinted in his spirit, as the desire of restoring his liberty, and, with the hazard of his own life, to endeavour the defence of his Enemy's Subjects and Dominions. He spent the rest of that day in visiting the Magazines of Arms and Provisions, in reviewing the Forces which we had left, and the Number of the Inhabitants capable to bear Arms in that important necessity of State; in giving orders for the curing of the wounded, for furnishing those with Arms who had lost them, for recruiting the Companies, and choosing new Officers in the places of those who had been killed or taken; and briefly, in all such things as a person well versed, as he was, in the Art of War, might practise upon such an occasion. He found good store of Arms and Provisions, and by the supputation which he made of the Soldiers, and the Inhabitants, he found that upon our urgent necessity, he could raise of the one and the other, above Fifteen thousand men. This discovery having filled them with joy and confidence of the success of his Designs, he resolved not to permit the ardour of the Inhabitants to languish, which might in time grow cold, but to lead them out to fight, whilst Merodates was weakened by the loss he had received in the last Battle. He communicated his resolution to the chief of them that were about him, by whom it was approved; and after he had given them instructions, and necessary orders to dispose all things, he came in the Evening to give me a Visit.  
You may judge, my Princesses, how joyful I was, that I could discourse freely with him in my Chamber, and in the Palace of the Kings of Thrace, who could not do it before, but only in a little desert Island, where the fear of death which was always before our eyes, was capable to disturb our Conversations. His contentments likewise seemed to me more absolute, than those he tasted in his first acquaintance with me, and when he saw himself near me, where no suspicious person could overhear him, expressed his thoughts in such passionate terms, that I was persuaded that few persons till that time, had loved more strongly and more really than he. When his passion had given vent to its first emotions, and I had assured him, that my acknowledgement and affection towards him, was as great as he could rationally desire, I began to blame him for the little care he had had of his life, and the interest which I had in it; in coming to expose himself, as he had done, to the mercy of a jealous and implacable Enemy, having used no precaution to conceal himself in the Dominions of a man, who by his Oath, was in a manner engaged to destroy him; and from whom, according to former probabilities, and the remembrance of the former effects of his ingratitude, he could expect nothing but all mannrr of ill usage. By this Reproach, and the Request I made to him besides, Ariobarzanes being engaged to give me an Account of what he had done, since our parting in the Isle of Cyprus, and how he came into Thrace, and into the Army which Eurimedes commanded, informed me in a few words, That after the King had dismissed him at Carpasia, retiring from us, he spent some days in a private place of the City, to find out some means to see me; but afterwards seeing that his endeavours were but in vain, and that I was so strictly Guarded, his Design was to go and stay for us in Thrace, not doubting, but that immediately after the King was cured, we would take our way thither, hoping he should find some favourable occasion there to see me again, possibly to do some other Service for Adallas, which might mollify his heart, and make him express more acknowledgement for it, than he had done for the former. He told me, that he was confirmed in this intention, by the Discourse which he heard a few days after amongst some Merchants of the Isle of Lesbos, from whom he understood, that there was a War begun in Thrace, that the Prince of Taurica Chersonesus, was entered with an Army into those Countries, which Adallas had taken from him, and that there was a great deal of likelihood, that, by reason of the King's Absence, the Country would be exposed to great Desolations. He told me likewise, that he made his advantage of this Discourse, without discovering any thing to the Lesbians, or to any other persons that he kept company with, what he knew concerning the King of Thrace, supposing that it was his Design to conceal himself, and being unwilling to do him a bad Office. A few days after, seeing those Lesbians ready to return into their own Country, he prayed them to receive him into their Vessel, and to let him bear them company into their Island, which he had a Design to see, which they did very willingly, and being arrived at Lesbos, by the assistance of those Merchants, he sold part of those Diamonds which he had in his Picture-Case, and by that means had wherewithal to put himself in a good Equipage, and to furnish himself with all things necessary. From Lesbos, he easily got into Thrace, where he found all the Frontiers towards Chersonesus in Arms, there he took Servants, bought himself Horses, and fair Arms, and entered himself in our Troops, where he continued a while unknown, and without any intention to discover himself; but afterwards having the happiness to do some signal Actions, he declared himself under the Name of Ariamenes; and Fortune having been so favourable to him under the conduct of Eurimedes, as to let him render some important Services to the King and Country of Thrace, he hoped, before his Arrival, he should do something for him so great and considerable, that he might present himself to him with confidence, and expect from him some effects of acknowledgement, rather than be afraid of his Menaces. Things succeeded as he had expected, and upon that confidence he believed, That without dishonour, he could not disguise himself from a King, who was beholding to him for his Crown and life.  
Finishing this Relation with the greatest Grace in the World: The pardon which I am still to beg of you, added he, is, not for concealing from the King your Brother, the thoughts of Adoration I have for you, and for not having been so far Master of my Courage, as to yield to any other power but yours: But in fine, in the condition whereunto my Affairs were reduced, it was hard for him to be any longer ignorant of my thoughts, or rather, that the cruel suspicions which he had already conceived, should not be turned into certainties: And if in this rancounter I imprudently gave too much scope to my passion, I have received a punishment for it, which, as slight as it is, may partly mitigate the resentments of a Princess who is all goodness. If I be displeased, said I, interrupting, that the King had knowledge of the affection which you have for me, and very strong presumptions of that which I have for you, 'tis only in respect of the danger which you might incur upon that score, and not upon any other consideration; for I suppose myself to have a sufficient Dispensation from that Duty which would be due to a Brother of another humour, whose approbation without doubt I should have waited for, before I had engaged myself in the friendship which I have expressed to you. But now Ariobarzanes, that Affairs are in this condition, how are you resolved to deal with Adallas if it please the gods that you free him out of the power of Merodates? what precautions will you take for your security, since you cannot expect it from your Services? And how will you put yourself into a condition that you need not fear the effects of Adallas 's Jealousy, which stifles all the good thoughts which the greatness of his Birth might inspire him with? If my life were not devoted to your Service, replied the Prince, it would not possibly be worth the while to take so much care for the preservation of it; and besides, whatsoever knowledge I have of the humour of a Prince, whom I dare not accuse of ingratitude, because he is your Brother; I hope that my latter Services will do that which the former could not; and that when he calls to mind the highness of his extraction, all the Roots of Virtue will not be so extirpated out of his Soul, but that he will find some reluctancy in himself, and be ashamed of what is past; but if this be not sufficient to secure me from danger, and if you desire that I should use more circumspection to assure myself, I will do it in obedience to you, and I will not put myself into Adallas 's power; till I may probably hope for more favourable usage, than formerly I have received at his hands. With this intention, as also to render you the obedience which I owe you, I shall march out of Byzantium to morrow at the break of day, not thinking it convenient to let the ardour of your Soldiers grow cold, nor to permit Merodates to recruit himself, or possibly to give him time to put any thing in execution which may be fatal to the King. I hope by the assistance of the gods, and the Justice of our Cause, I shall free him out of his Enemy's hands, and restore him to his Crown and liberty. But if this good hap betid me, my Divine Princess, and if I can vanquish both the Fortune of Merodates, and the spirit of the King your Brother, Will you not be pleased to permit me to desire of him my supreme Felicity? And will you take it ill, that I endeavour to obtain the Princess Olympia, by the good will of the King her Brother? You may believe, answered I without study, That I shall be very much satisfied with it; but I see so little probability of it, that I will make no further reflection upon that Design of yours, and I shall beseech the gods to give you your hearts desire by some other way, though it be unknown unto me. In the mean while, Go, generous Prince, whither your Virtue, rather than any other consideration, calls you; and make the World admire at a Generosity without example, in hazarding your life for an ingrateful and cruel Enemy. But if you have any affection for Olympia, do not so far expose yourself to those dangers which you are going to encounter, but that you may remember what share you have given me in your life, and what interest I have in the preservation of it. As I uttered these words, my face was covered with a blush, and some tears fell from my eyes, at which Ariobarzanes was so moved, that throwing himself at my feet, maugre my resistance, he embraced my knees a great while, breaking out into expressions so full of Transport, that the violence of his passion might easily be observed in them. In fine, after he had made me a thousand ardent Protestations, and had received all the marks of friendship that in reason he could require of me, he went from me, when he believed he could not handsomely stay any longer, and left me full of hope for the success of his Arms; but much more replenished with fear in relation to his life, which he was about to expose to manifest danger. This apprehension, and so many thoughts as accompanied it, did so turmoil me all that Night, that before I could close my eyes, the Sun had saluted my Chamber with his earliest beams.  
That day Ariobarzanes, as he had resolved, marched out of Byzantium leaving in the City, besides the old and wounded men, but a very small Number of Inhabitants for the defence of the Walls, and leading out with him, to strengthen his Forces, almost all the men that he judged capable of bearing Arms; those which were to stay behind of either Sex, followed him as far as the Gates with loud acclamations; and they had all so much confidence in his Valour, That they looked upon him rather as one marching to a Triumph, than to a Battle, upon the decision whereof their destiny depended. Curiosity, or rather the force of my inclination, made me go that day to see him at the Head of his Troops; and though I was not quite ready, when they came to tell me that they were passing by the Palace-gate, I could not for bear running into a Gallery which was over the street, and there I stayed at a window till Ariobarzanes was marched by. Truly, I was not dissatisfied with the desire I had to see him in that condition, and his whole person was of such a composure, that if I had not been prepossessed with Affection, that fight only would have been capable to give it birth in my Soul. His Arms were very magnificent and glorious, his Helmet being shaded with a Plume of Feathers, covered his Head, which he advanced with a redoubtable fiercenese; his Horse was proud and stately in his Pace, and all things did so accompany the comeliness of his person, that no body could conceive any thing of him, but what was very great and extraordinary. He passed by, without seeing me, not knowing that I saw him; for, because of the condition I was in, I had thrown a Veil over me, and stood behind some of my women. After I had lost the sight of him, I accompanied him with a gale of sighs, and taking little notice of the rest, I retired into my Chamber, where my Soul was troubled all the rest of that day, and those that followed it, with all the inquietudes which in that condition of my Fortune might probably keep me Company.  
'Tis not worth the while, my Princesses, and it would be too tedious and troublesome to you, for me to repeat to you all the Discourses which my Affection made me make in the absence of Ariobarzanes, to describe to you the different effects of my fears, and my hopes; and in brief, to acquaint you with those things which you yourselves may imagine, instead of relating those things which as yet you know not, and which better deserve your attention.  
Ariobarzanes intended to march towards Merodates with all convenient speed, but yet in such a manner, that his Troops might not be weary when they should come to fight; and he ordered their march so, that spending but a few days upon the way, he presented himself to his Enemy, with his men fresh enough to give Battle the first day.  
Merodates because of the inconveniency of his wounded men, and for other important Reasons, was removed but a few Furlongs from the place where he had gained the Victory, and he had caused the King to be carried Prisoner into a little Town which lay behind him. He expected the coming of more Forces, with which he prepared to march directly to Byzantium, absolutely to establish a Dominion, which he thought could no longer be disputed with him; and he ordered all things like a gallant Warrior as he was, when contrary to his expectation, and contrary to all probabilities, he saw Ariobarzanes encamped within sight of him, in a likely capacity to bid him Battle. Never was astonishment like to that of Merodates, and though he was not capable of a Fright, yet this sudden Return of an Enemy's Army, whom he thought unable to make Head against him, and this new Obstacle which he had not foreseen in a Country whereof the King was his Prisoner, gave him cause enough to look to himself, and to take new resolutions. He quickly guessed at the Truth, and believed that Ariamenes was at liberty, and that none but Ariamenes could put the Bizantines in Arms with so much suddenne's, and lead them with so much confidence against such a redoubtable Enemy. The day following, he was confirmed in his opinion, and he received certain intelligence, that it was against that Ariamenes, whom he knew but too well to his cost, that he must dispute the establishment of his Monarchy; and as great and courageous as he was, it is certain that he was troubled at Ariamenes' coming, and foresaw that there could not have come a greater Obstacle against him, to cross, and possibly to ruin, his Designs.  
In the mean time, Ariamenes was encamped but Thirty or forty Furlongs off from Merodates, and the two Camps could easily see each others Fires. Ariamenes knowing very well that he had to deal with one of the most valiant men, and one of the best Captains in the World, neglected nothing that might contribute to his advantages; and had so much desire to accomplish his Enterprise with that success and honour which he had proposed to himself, that he left nothing unthought of, which could be practised by the most experienced Captain upon the like occasion. In fine, he resolved, with the Advice of the Officers of his Army, whose Counsel he willingly harkened to, not to lose time in slight skirmishes, nor to manage the business as he had done, whilst he only commanded a small flying Camp against a mighty Army, but to give Battle (which at another time he would not have so easily ventured) before that Merodates proceeded to the utmost extremities against Adallas, as they feared he would, and as he was advised to do; but because he very well foresaw that he could not attach the Enemies in their Camp, without giving them a great deal of advantage, he resolved to march in Battalia towards the little town where the King was kept Prisoner, as if he would storm that, and take it by Assault, not doubting but by that means he should oblige them to quit their Lines and fight with the more Equality. He had fully taken this resolution, and gave Orders to put it in execution the next day, when they presented to him a Trumpeter from Merodates, with a Letter from that Prince. Ariamenes received him according to the ordinary Forms, and having taken the Letter, he opened it, and therein read these words.  
Merodates' King of Thrace, and Taurica Chersonesus, to the General Ariamenes.  
THough by thee alone, the progress of my Arms hath been stopped, and though I have found a greater Obstacle in thy single self, than in all the Forces of the Thracians: Thou art too valiant to be hated by thy Enemies & I really protest to thee, that I detested the ingratitude of Adallas, I regretted thy misfortune, and was joyful to hear of thy being at liberty. They that have freed thee from thy imprisonment, declaring themselves to be Friends to injured Virtue, have done that which I myself had a desire to do; and if they had not prevented me, I had made thee my Friend, instead of having thee for my Enemy. 'Tis very certain, that the esteem which I have of thy Valour, makes me sorry to see that thou imployest it still in the service of an ungrateful Prince, and that thou goest to fight with a Prince who desires thy Amity, in the quarrel of a man which hath nothing but prisons and punishments for thy recompense. Where is thy Resentment? Where is thy Courage, Ariamenes? And not being a Subject to Adallas, What honest motive canst thou have to engage thyself in his Service after the unworthy usage he hath shown thee? Join thyself rather with his Enemies, to revenge the injury which thou hast received. Thou hast ways enough to do it, without prejudice to thy honour; and if the love of Olympia, as the common opinion is, retains thee in her Brother's Service, consider, that by the assistance of my Arms, thou may'st obtain Olympia, whom thou wilt never obtain by her Brother's good will. I give thee my inviolable promise to put that Princess into thy power, with Dignities besides, which may satisfy thy Ambition. Let me know thy intention, before we put it to the hazard of a Battle, which may probably prove as fatal to Ariamenes, as to Merodates, and consider once more, that it will be in thine own power, without injuring thy Reputation to be the Friend of Merodates, revenger upon Adallas, and possessor of Olympia.  
This was Merodates' Letter, which Ariobarzanes readd with some astonishment, and found it very different from what he expected. It was written with a great deal of Artifice, and likelihood of Truth, and Merodates had forgotten nothing which probably might move a man very much injured, and very amorous. All the reason in the World seemed to be upon his side, and certainly there were but few men whom this hope of becoming possessor of a person beloved by such ways as his just resentment might in some sort save his honour, would not have caused to waver, and, it may be, have absolutely convinced; but the virtue of Ariobarzanes was very remote from this Proposition, and neither all his resentment against the Brother, nor all his love to the Sister, kept him one moment unresolved what in point of Duty to do. He gave the Letter smiling to some of his Officers which were near him, See, said he, what opinion they have of us, and with what Arms they would encounter with us. In the mean time, he returned an Answer to Merodates, which, as I take it, was in these Terms.  
Prince Ariamenes, to Merodates' Prince of Chersonesus.  
IF thou hadst really valued my Courage, thou wouldst not have ventured upon the Proposion which thou hast made me, and 'tis but a bad Testimony of thy Amity and Esteem, to counsel me to baseness. When thou didst detest Ingratitude, and bemoan my Disgrace, thou didst follow the motions of thy Virtue; but without doubt thou wert not guided by that, when thou didst propose to me to betray a People who have absolutely committed themselves and their destiny to my Conduct. If I would be revenged upon Adallas, it should not be whilst he is a Prisoner; and if I would pretend to the possession of Olympia, it should not be by unworthy meaus; if it please the gods that I shall obtain her, she will be much more gloriously acquired by me, when I shall have restored to her Family the Crown of her Ancestors, when I shall have chased her Enemies out of her Country, and when I shall have brought back her Brother with Freedom and Victory, than, when by a base Treason, I shall have dishonoured all the Actions of my life, and rendered myself unworthy of her Esteem. I thank thee for the Dignities which thou offerest me; but if thou knewest me, thou wouldst possibly understand, that the Prince of Chersonesus hath no Dignities in his power that are worth Ariamenes 's acceptance. Yet I will not disdain thy Amity, when I may receive it without Reproach; and possibly thou wilt judge me more worthy of it than thou didst before, when thou shalt have seen me in the Field, near enough to take an exact knowledge of me.  
This was the use that Ariobarzanes made of Merodates' offers, and the next day, according to the deliberation which he had formerly taken, he dislodged his Troops to march towards the Town where the King was kept Prisoner. As he had no design to conceal his march so it was presently taken notice of by Merodates; and being it was not Merodates' intention to suffer that place to be taken, which he knew was not strong enough to endure the first Assault, he discamped his Army, and marched to meet Ariamenes. His Troops were stronger still than ours, and composed of men better versed in War, than those which we had drawn out from amongst the Citizens of Byzantium; and this was that which easily diposed him to a Battle, not believing that Ariamenes, as valiant as he was, could stop the course of his Victories and Fortune. The Armies having not far to march before they met, were quickly one in sight of another, and then it was that their valiant Generals employed their utmost cares to facilitate the Victory. Neither of them forgot any thing that might conduce thereunto; and I understood afterwards, that Ariamenes having ranged his men in such an order as my incapacity doth not permit me to describe, made a speech to them with so much Eloquence and Gallantry, that he inspired them with a more than natural ardour, and animated them by his Discourse and Example, to attempts beyond his expectation. I cannot inform you of the particulars of that Battle, which possibly was the most bloody, and the best disputed, that was ever fought between two Armies, of their strength. Above eight long hours the Success continued doubtful and uncertain, and in that time the Troops on either side were almost absolutely defeated. The Generals were extremely valiant, and their Soldiers seconded them with all their power. Merodates' men had an advantage over ours, by reason of the Number of those who were drawn out of Byzantium, who being a great deal less used to War than the rest, much weakened our Party. But the brave Ariamenes did so well supply their default, and did so encourage them both by his words, and his great Actions, that he made them do that which could hardly have been expected from Veteran Soldiers; and in fine, confirmed them in the resolution to suffer themselves to be cut in pieces, or to purchase that day the peace and repose of their Country. Alas! how much blood did these gallant resolutions of both Parties cause to be shed on either side, and how many deaths made that day famous in the memory of the Thracians! A great part of the day was spent, when at last that Fortune, which had so inseparably accompanied Merodates against Adallas and Eurimedes, began to give ground before Ariamenes, and by the prodigious efforts of that young Prince, the remainder of the Troops of Chersonesus began by little and little to give way to ours, and looked as if they were about to quit the Victory. Merodates' perceiving ●t, and being filled with despair, at the knowledge of it, did things above belief, to recover the advantage we had gotten, and to preserve that which the precedent Battles had acquired him. He road from rank to rank with a Martial countenance, and by his ardent endeavours turned his Forces more than once upon ours with such an impetuosity, as made the event of Battle a long time doubtful. Ariamenes, who had fought for him all that day, as much as the Functions of his charge could permit him, having percieved him, and taken notice of him by several marks, charged up to him with an exclamation and an action which discovered him to his Enemy, and when he was near enough to be understood by him, Merodates, cried he, there is blood enough shed, spare that which remains of thy Party, if thou canst possibly, and let us finish the destiny of this day in our own persons. Thou shalt see by that proof, whether I be worthy of thy Amity or not, and thou wilt not dishonour thy Arms, in employing them against a Prince whose Birth is not inferior to thine. Ariamenes had leisure to make this Discourse to Merodates; and the two Chieftains were no sooner met, but as if they had made an agreement together, it seemed that the Troops which they commanded, had suspended all their interest to see their Fortune decided by the hands of their Generals, they both expressed a great deal ' of joy to see them so disposed; and having confirmed them in it on either side, by a public Order which they gave that none should stir out of their places whilst they were a fight, they advanced one towards the other like two Lions, or like something more terribly, and with the first blows they shivered in pieces the Javelins which they had taken into their hands; and afterwards lifting up their redoubtable Swords, all died with the blood which they had shed, they gave each other such blows, as struck a Terror into the Spectators of either side.  
I am no better skilled in the Relation of a particular Combat, than of a Battle; and though this be worthy of eternal memory, yet I will report no more particularities to you, but will only tell you what I have heard since from Ariobarzanes, That Merodates gave Testimonies of an admirable Valour in that Combat, and reduced him oftent mes to such terms, as not to hope for the Victory; but at last ●t declared itself for Ariamenes, and the valiant Merodates, whose puissance, as they say, never yielded to any but the great King Alcamenes, after he had given his Enemy divers wounds, received one from him at last in the body, which made him fall from his Saddle, cold and pale, and deprived him of life in a few moments. Ariobarzanes, who was desirous of the Victory, but not of the death of that great man, was very sensibly afflicted at his destiny; but not being in condition to give any long Testimonies of it, he contented himself to give Command that they should take up the Prince, to give him all the assistance he was capable to receive; and bestowing his thoughts upon his present necessity, he with his men sustained the utmost fury of Merodates' Troops; who being resolved to revenge their Prince, or to perish with him, fell up, on ours with such an impetuosity, as deprived Ariamenes of the opportunity to put in execution the desire which he had to complete his Victory, without shedding any more blood, if it were possible. This fury of his Enemies was no great Remora to his Victory, and the Thracians having Routed them with a great deal of Valour, bespreaed all the Field with their bodies, and lest none of them alive, but what their, Generals pity made them spare.  
In the mean time Ariamenes, who in the greatest heat of the Combat preserved his judgement sound and entire, having a Design in his Head which he desired to bring to pass, when he saw that the Victory could be no longer disputed against him, commanded Eusthenes to hasten away at all full speed with Three hundred Horse to the Gates of that little Town, where the King was detained Prisoner, and to take Order that no body should enter there to give the King intelligence of that day's Success. The business was done as he desired, and Eusthenes did so closely block up all the Avenues to the Town, that not a man could carry in the News of what had passed.  
A little after, the Conqueror Ariamenes having put his Camp in necessary order, as well in relation to the wounded men, the Prisoners, and the Booty, as to render to Merodates' body the honours which were due to him, advanced in the Evening towards that little Town with part of his Troops, and presented himself at the Gates, in a condition that caused Terror in those that guarded them. He presently gave order to parley with those that commanded in the place, and some Officers coming out to him, upon faith given, he informed them what had passed, and showed them such evident marks of his Victory, that they could no longer doubt of it. In brief, he showed them the means he had to force them in an hours time, and told them, that he would be very glad to spare their blood, and to give them free liberty to march away, provided they opened the Gates immediately, and engaged themselves upon their lives, to take order that the King that was Prisoner there, should have no intelligence of what had passed, before he had seen him. These men being intimidated, were joyful to find safety and liberty in Ariamenes' Proposition; they promised him all that he desired, and punctually executed it: So that Ariamenes, in less than half an hour, entered into the Town with a Party of those that followed him, and went to wait upon the King before he could learn any News of what had passed. Adallas supported his imprisonment with a great deal of impatience, and reflecting upon the great interest that Merodates had to put him to death, to confirm his dominion over the Thracians, he was in continual fears, and expected, everyday, with a great deal of Terror, what should be resolved in relation to his destiny. His unjust passion for me was not extinguished by his imprisonment; but he was the less fixed upon that, because he was constrained to bestow part of his thoughts upon the pressing considerations of his Fortune; and though he was still jealous of Ariamenes, yet he had often repent that he had Treated him so, knowing what mischief he had done himself, by depriving himself of the service of that great man.  
Ever since that moment when I set Ariamenes at liberty, he had employed the time with so much diligence, and made so little stay at Byzantium, and upon his march, that the King, (to whom those that guarded him, had no Commission to relate all the Truth) had no time to be advertised of it: So that when he saw Ariamenes come into his Chamber, he was as much surprised at his sight, as at the most unexpected thing in the World; and not knowing how to take it, well or ill, he remained quite astonished and confounded. Immediately at the sight of this formidable Rival, his jealousy revived, and so strongly moved him, that he could hardly contain himself, looking upon him as his most cruel Enemy, though he had rendered him all the Offices of the firmest Amity. He was very much troubled to see him at liberty, and looking upon himself at the same time as a Prisoner, his Captivity seemed a great deal the more insupportable; but reflecting likewise upon the generous humour of Ariamenes, and considering that this man, notwithstaning the displeasures he had done him, seemed to have been born on purpose for his conservation, a little interest forcing its way through his passions, made him hope that this third view of Ariamenes, would be as advantageous to him as the two former. These various cogitations agitating his spirit at the same time, and keeping him uncertain and unresolved, did likewise keep him a great while unmoveable and silent; and by his action, and the changes of his countenance, made Ariamenes take notice of his distraction.  
The Prince saluted the King with all the Civility and Respect that could be due to him in his better Fortune; and the King having received him with that trouble which I have endeavoured to represent to you, after he had striven a little to dissipate it: What, Ariamenes, said he, Have my Subjects betrayed me then? And hath their infidelity not only set you at liberty, but do you come likewise to affront me, whilst I am my Enemy's Prisoner? Sir, replied Ariamenes, your Subjects have not betrayed you, in restoring liberty to a man from whom you have been accustomed to receive the most Important-Services; and possibly you know me well enough, to believe that I do not come to brave you in your misfortune, seeing I never presented myself to you, but for the preservation of your life, or your Dominions. I know it to my sorrow, answered Adallas; but I am no less sensible, that the loss of my Crown and life too, would have been more sweet, and more supportable to me, than the injury you do me. You know it as well as I; but in short, What is your Design now? And do you come to me as a Friend, or as an Enemy? I come, replied the Prince, to give you your choice, and to ask your counsel what I am to do. 'Tis true, your people have freed me out of the Prison to which you had committed me, your Subjects have made me their General, to defend them against your Enemies and theirs. I have not possibly been very unwilling to resume my former resolution, and I am come against Merodates with strength and courage enough to recover all that he hath gained from you. In brief, I dare undertake within three days to restore you, your liberty and your Crown, and not to leave one of your Enemies in Thrace, but either dead or Prisoner. I will engage my life and honour for the perfomance of this Proposition. But Sir, this is only your interest: and if I may be permitted to dispute mine own with a Prince to whom I am so little obliged, I will tell you, That if I do not fight for your advantage, I can compass my own without fight, and Merodates hath offered me that, which without doubt I should never receive from you, though I should readvance you from a Prison to a Throne. I can choose whether I will hazard a Combat against a valiant man who esteems me, and never did me wrong, for a Prince who hath ingratefully and injuriously used me; I can revenge myself of a cruel Enemy, and (which is more considerable) I can do it without danger. I can acquire Olympia, who is all the aim of my life, whom I can never expect from the Services I can render you. Behold Sir, continued he, presenting Merodates 's Letter to him, behold the offers of your Enemy, and be pleased to take the pains, after you have looked upon them, to give me your Advice what resolution I should take.  
The King harkened to this Discourse of Ariobarzanes with so much astonishment, that at present he knew not what Reply to make him, and only taking Merodates' Letter, he read it over three or four times, making particular reflections upon those places of it, where he promised him the possession of Olympia, with such a Transport, as might easily be perceived by his exterior Action. At last having readd over those words often enough which seemed so cruel to him, or rather having bestowing some time in moderating his resentment, and meditating what to say to Ariamenes upon this Subject; I see very well, said he, restoing him the Letter, what Propositions my Enemy hath made you, and I acknowledge besides, That in the condition whereunto my miserable Fortune hath reduced me, if you join with Merodates, you may be revenged of me, you may acquire Olympia, and you may do all things without any difficulty. But Ariamenes Where is that Generosity, where is that Courage; which after the first effects of my ingratitude made you so Nobly expose your life for the defence of my Dominions? And with what honour can you take that Revenge which is proposed to you, against a King in Prison, and against a Prince, whose absolute ruin doth depend upon you? Ariamenes being touched home with this Discourse, had much ado to persevere in his Dissimulation; and yet considering how necessary it was for him, There is no consideration of Honour and Generosity, replied he, which obliges me to hazard my life any more for a Prince, who after such Services as I have rendered him, confined me to a cruel Prison, and had already condemned me to die as a Malefactor. There are but few men in the World, who after such usage, would neglect the opportunity of being revenged: and though I should have so much virtue as not to desire the utter ruin of a helpless captive-King; yet I should not be blamed, if I did not bear Arms any longer for his Service. But to this consideration of Revenge, is added the possession of Olympia, and to the hope of that it is, that I have devoted my whole life. I shall infallibly obtain my desire, if I lend an ear to the Proposition of Merodates; and if I fight with Merodates, if I drive out your Enemies, if I restore your liberty, and if I resettle you upon your Throne, I shall not only render this Service to a cruel Enemy, who hath nothing but imprisonment and death for my recompense but I shall put him into a condition to hinder me forever from the possession of Olympia, or rather I shall deprive myself for ever of all hope of possessing Olympia. Nevertheless I have not accepted the offers of Merodates, though I have obtained permission of him to see you, & I am still in a condition, as I told you before, to expel every one of your Enemies, and to restore you to the peaceable possession of the Crown of your Ancestors; but you must redeem your Sceptre, your liberty, and possibly your life at a rate which you are unwilling to give. If I do not perform what I promise you, I demand nothing of you; but if in three days I put you into the condition which I have propounded to you, I demand the Princess Olympia of you as my recompense; if you can overcome that passion which dishonours you, and draws the indignation of the gods, and the aversion of men upon you. Do not fear to disparage your blood by an unworthy alliance; 'Tis Ariobarzanes, the Son of the late, and the Brother of the now King of Armenia, who hath served you under the Name of Ariamenes, with as much respect as the meanest of your Subjects could have done; and this is a Truth wherein you shall be clearly satisfied, before I demand the performance of your promise; consider now what resolution you will take, and do not think it strange, that reflecting upon your former Actions, I desire to engage you, and assure myself upon your word.  
Having spoken these words, Ariobarzanes held his peace, expecting Adallas' Answer, who upon that Discourse was fallen into a great perplexity; and, as he imagined, seeing misfortune on every side, knew not which way to turn himself to be least unfortunate. The love he had for me, could not, without a great deal of violence, permit him to bestow me upon another, and it seemed to him, that by this demand, he was robbed of a piece of his heart; but coming to consider that he was without a Kingdom, without liberty, and possibly upon the point to lose life, as he saw there was a great deal of likelilihood: he could not resolve to lose all, and perish miserably by persevering in a detestable passion, whereof he could never expect any good success; possibly for a more hopeful love, he would have quitted both Crown and life without consideration; but at last he resolved, or at least seemed to do so; and after he had held his eyes a long time fixed upon the ground, raising them up to Ariobarzanes' face: Ariamenes, said he, or Ariobarzanes, Prince, or whosoever you are, you reduce me to a cruel extremity; and if the Service which you promise me, and whereof I plainly perceive the necessity and the importance, could be recompensed by one half of that Kingdom which you offer to restore me, it would be much more easy for me to part with it to you without regret, than to yield up Olympia to you, and not die. But if you be resolved upon it; and if nothing be capable to satisfy you, but to give you Olympia, well, added he, with a sigh, since my ill Fortune and my Reason, which my passion hath so much struggled with, will have it so; well then, I promise you Olympia, and engage my Royal word to you, which amongst my other failings hath been always inviolably observed, that if you perform what you promise, and if you be a King's Son, as you assure me you are, I will render you possessor of Olympia. It was not without expressing sufficient Testimonies of his grief, that the King uttered these words; and Ariobarzanes had no sooner heard them, but turning himself towards those which came into the Chamber with him, You are Witnesses, my Friends, said he, That the King hath engaged his word to me, and it highly concerns me to assure myself further of it by your Testimony. There is no need of that assurance, replied Adallas, and what soever may befall me, I will never fail in the performance of my word. Since it is so, added the Prince, assuming a more pleasant countenance than before, and that nothing is able to disengage you from your promise, Know, King of Thrace, that I did not stay till I had your word, before I rendered you the Service which you expect from me; I am more generous in Effect, than I seemed to be in our Conversation; Merodates is dead by my hand, and all your Enemies hear him Company; you are the King of the Thracians now in peace, and you may at this moment being free, a Conqueror, and absolute, restore your presence and perfect peace to your Subjects.  
Having made an end of these words, Ariobarzanes obliged Euristheus, who was with him, to give the King a full Relation of all that had passed, which he did at length; and filling the King's mind with admiration at the gallant Actions of Ariamenes, he gave him a particular Account of the present condition of his Affairs, by the death of Merodates, and the defeat of all his Troops; after which, there was little probability that those that were left in the Towns which he hadnot taken, would stay so much as a Summons: the King upon this Discourse was assaulted with so many passions, and so many different perturbations, that it was hard to judge which of them would gain the Victory in his spirit. At last, after he had made long reflections upon the revolutions of his Fortune, and had turned his thoughts from the loss of his Dominions, his Imprisonment, and the danger which had threatened his life, to the advantageous change which he had received in his condition by the Valour of Ariobarzanes; O immortal gods, said he, lifting up his eyes to Heaven, for what reason have you thus subjected my Genius to Ariamenes, that in all the misfortunes of my life, I can receive no assistance from you, but by his means? After that, turning himself towards him, with an Action composed of a great deal of sweetness: Be not offended, said he, if it be some Affliction to me, to be so deeply indebted to you, being so unable to requite Services of so high a value. I acknowledge you, though it be a little of the latest, for my Benefactor, for my Defender, and for my perpetual Deliverer; and whatsoever I suffer, I will keep my word. I doubt it not Sir, said Ariobarzanes, and I would not have taken so much care to have obtained your promise, if I had not had an absolute confidence in it. By this Action you will too happily recompense my Services, and you will acquire the esteem of the whole Eeath, by knowing how to subdue an Enemy more hard to overcome than Merodates was. Let us speak no more of it, added the King with a sigh, let us speak no more of it, I will keep my word.  
After these words, he continued a long time without speaking; and in Conclusion, endeavouring to express the satisfaction which was due to the change of his Fortune, and to show himself to his people in a condition which might recover their affection, after some Discourse had with Ariobarzanes, and those that were with him, concerning the necessity of his Affairs, and those things which were still left to do, he went out of the House, and the Town which had served for his Prison, and went to show himself to his Victorious Army, which saluted him with loud Acclamations, and gave him to understand, That Misfortunes are sometimes advantageous, to move and to recall those spirits which might be alienated by the miscarriages of Prosperity. He viewed the Field where the Battle was sought, where the marks of Ariamenes' victory were still fresh; and though he beheld them with some confusion, yet he could not choose but give that Prince part of the praises which were due to him, and approve, at least in show, the Ardour which his Subjects expressed in obeying him, and fight according to his Orders.  
At the Request of Ariobarzanes, the body of Merodates was used with a great deal of honour, and permission was given to his Friends to carry it whither they pleased, to tender it the honour of Burial. Ariamenes likewise sent back all the Prisoners, upon condition that they should pass to their Garrisons which were held still by their Companions, and exhort them to retire within Fifteen days, which was the time allotted by the King, for their secure departure out of Thrace, according to the Passports which were delivered to them.  
Thus was peace restored to Thrace, with such a suddenness as was not imaginable; and by the Valour of one single man, that Kingdom, upon the Eve of its total ruin, saw itself reinstated in a more peaceable and flourishing condition, than possibly it had ever been. The King returned to Byzantium as it were in Triumph; having the Victorious Ariamenes by his side, whom he honoured both according to the greatness of his Service, and the knowledge he had then of his Royal Birth. The people made them magnificent Receptions, with the Description whereof I will not trouble myself, nor with other things which passed at the King's return, and do usually pass upon occasions of the like Nature. You may very well judge, my Princesses, that the report of all that had happened, which had already reached my ears, was not unwelcome to me. 'Tis certain, that, esteeming and loving Ariobarzanes as I did, I could not but be very joyful to hear of the greatness of his Actions, and the promise which the King had made him; and having never had any other Design but to make him my Husband, when decency should permit, a success so conformable to my intentions, could not but give me a great deal of satisfaction. Yet I endeavoured to moderate the Testimonies I might give of it, so that I might not too much discover the inclination of my Soul; and when the King came to visit me, with Ariobarzanes, whom he was pleased to bring along with him, I received them both in such a manner, that it was hard for indifferent persons to judge of the inside of my heart by outward appearances. The King could not dissemble so (for grief is not so easily mastered as joy) and whatsoever endeavour he used, he had much ado to conceal his resentment. He spoke but little, and made no mention at all of what was past, being unwilling either to reproach me with the offence which I had done him in freeing Ariobarzanes out of Prison without his Orders, or to thank me for the means I had given that Prince to restore him to his liberty and Kingdom. His Discourse was cold, and full of constraint, and after some words, far different from those which he had formerly used to me: Sister, said he, I will do all that possibly I can, to repair those faults which I may have committed, and in the mean time, I present the Prince Ariobarzanes unto you, whose Services can receive no other recompense, but the Princess Olympia. Speaking as your Brother, I shall say, that the greatness of his Services are far above such a recompense; but indeed he desires no other, and I am engaged to procure him the possession of you, by all the credit I have with you. I casted down my eyes at these words with some show of confusion, and judging that I ought to make a Reply unto the King's Discourse: Sir, said I, I know the obedience which I ought to render you at all times, when together with the quality of my King, you resume that of my Brother, and I will endeavour so to regulate my will by yours, that you shall have no cause to condemn me. My will, answered the King with his former coldness, shall be such for the future, that you may easily conform to it; and I should be very sorry, if I should desire any thing of you that might be disadvantageous, or disagreeable to you. All the rest of our Conversation was as cold as this, except it were the Testimonies which I gave the King of the joy I resented for his liberty, and the good success of his Affairs; and Ariobarzanes intermingled his Discourse with ours, when he thought himself obliged to it by an handsome opportunity, behaving himself like a modest person, who did respectfully consider the violence which the King offered to himself for his sake. He went back with him, as he came in his Company: and at this first Visit we could have no particular converse together; but the next day having had the opportunity to entertain him with more liberty, I expressed to him the contentment I had in this glorious success of his Arms, and the ingenious policy he used to gain Adallas his promise, by such Discourses as sufficiently signified to him that I really loved him, and would willingly obey the King my Brother, when he should order me to marry him.  
Ariobarzanes spoke nothing to me but in the language of Transports, which sufficiently discovering his passion, he made me a thousand Discourses, which I cannot repeat to you, because the same passion, made them to be without coherence and connexion; and before we parted, he desired me to give him permission to press the King as much as he could, to the performance of his promise. I saw him divers times besides with a great deal of liberty, and I had the more facility to do it, because the King did but rarely visit me; and when he did, did it very privately, and did so restrain himself, that in his Conversation there was not a word intermingled concerning that love which I had so much detested. I understood by all manner of Tokens, that it was not extinguished in his Soul; but I hoped, that when I should be farther off from him, absence might dissipate it; or rather, that when I should be far distant from him, I should no longer be afraid of the effects which it might produce, being fully resolved, as soon as he had bestowed me upon Ariorbarzanes, to retire into Armenia with him, and not to stay any longer in the King my Brother's Court, for fear of being importuned by him at a time, when it would be more difficult for me to bear with him.  
Divers days passed away, during which, the King rendered a great deal of honour and civility to Ariobarzanes, Treating him not only as a King's Son, but as a King to whom he had those obligations which he had to him, and by all manner of caresses and magnificent Presents, he endeavoured to make him believe, that he would not be ungrateful to him for his good Offices; but he did not speak a word of me: and Ariobarzanes, who out of respect, delayed as much as he could to require the performance of his promise, was very much displeased to see that he made no mention of me, and took this silence for a very bad Omen. He was oftentimes about to speak to him of it first; but the King always deprived him of all opportunities, by putting him upon Discourses of a quite different Subject; and if he had found Ariobarzanes to have been of a timorous and unconfident spirit, he would certainly have hindered him for whole years together, from being so bold as to open his mouth to that purpose. In the mean time he expressed a mortal sadness in all his Actions; and whilst his Subjects had made, and did every day make, Bonfires for the News that came of the absolute Retreat of all the Garrisons which Merodates had left in those Towns which he had taken, that fire unluckily kindled in his Soul, hindered him from assisting at the other, and did so far deprive him of all sensibility of his own happiness, that instead of appearing like a Conqueror, and as one Triumphant in the judgement of his people, he could not have looked with a more sorrowful countenance when he was Prisoner to Merodates. Ariobarzanes himself could not but look upon his misfortune with some pity; but as the cause of it was odious, so he could imagine no remedy for it; or at least, the best he could find, was to hasten the execution of his Design, and to take me speedily out of the sight of that Prince, to remove me from his memory.  
In fine, not being able to continue any longer in that silence which the King did but too strictly observe, and disposing himself to speak to him of it one day in my Gallery, where they were a walking together, after he had prepared his mind for it by his precedent Discourse, when the King saw that he could no longer avoid the hearing of that unwelcome proposal, he was minded to prevent him, and looking upon the Prince with Passion lively painted in his eyes: Well, Ariobarzanes, said he, Must I then needs part with Olympia to you? Ariobarzanes seemed astonished at this Discourse, and after that he had continued some moments without a Reply: You shall not part with Olympia as a Lover, said he, but you shall bestow her upon me as her Brother. Whether as a Lover, or as a Brother, answered Adallas, I must keep my word; but you cannot exact it of me, and reduce me to the cruel necessity of a performance, without throwing death into my Bosom. Sir, replied Ariobarzanes, if your distemper were of such a nature, as that it might be remedied by an Action of Generosity and Franchise, you should possibly find more of it in me, than you have reason to expect; and it may be I should have enough to force my inclinations in your favour, if instead of a Sister from whom you can never expect any thing, you loved a Princess which might entertain your affections: But believe it Sir, I do no way contribute to your misfortune; and though I should quit Olympia you would have never the more satisfaction in the love you have for her: And in brief, though Ariobarzanes were out of the world, the Princess Olympia would never marry the King her Brother. Well replied Adallas, with an Action full of Despair, That which the gods have Decreed, will come: And having spoken these words, he went and shut himself up in his Closet, and would see no body all that day.  
Ariobarzanes being troubled at this Conversation, and highly displeased to see himself a great deal farther off than he thought, from the effect of his hopes, came to render me a Visit, with a countenance which partly discovered the displeasure he resented; and as soon as he had accosted me, not being able to dissemble that which he had upon his heart; I see Madam, said he, That I am not so near the Haven as I imagined; my Fortune is no more changed than Adallas' mind; and I shall never cease to be unhappy, because he will never cease to be ungrateful. Being enforced by the necessity of his Affairs, and the fear of death which threatened him, he gave me his word which he had no intention to keep; but either let him put me to death whilst I am in his power, or let him not think to use me thus without answering it; and after that he hath gotten all the Services out of me which he could desire, let him consider more than once, that 'tis to no contemptible person that he hath engaged his word. He uttered these words with such an Action as I never saw him use before; but he had no sooner acquainted me with the cause of his anger, but I found it to be very just, and conjectured, as well as he, that indeed the King had no design to perform his promise. I used all the Arguments that possibly I could to recompose his mind, and to mitigate his resentments; but he was very uncapable of relishing my consolations, neither was I in any good condition to give him any, really participating with him in his affliction; and when I would have preached patience to him, There is no patience in the world, said he, that can brook this usage: If I do receive it, and you be not minded to attempt á second flight for my sake, and to trust yourself to the conduct of a Prince to whom you have given hopes of possessing you, will you please to consent, That I should Arm all the Friends which the world can furnish me with, & come in the Head of Fifty thousand men to demand of Adallas the execution of his promise? All your intentions are very just, replied I, but the effects of them are not so easy; and besides that, my Duty would oppose my retreat with you, which you seem to propose; the execution of it would be now impossible; and since my first flight, Adallas hath deprived me of all means to attempt a second, therefore there is no thinking upon that; and as for the War you speak of, I should think myself very unfortunate to cause so much blood to be shed upon my occasion, and besides, the distance is so great between your Country and ours, the passage by Sea so long, & so difficult for the conduct of an Army, and the events of War so doubtful, that I shall never advise you to follow that way. What would you have me to do then, cried the afflicted Ariobarzanes? And what means can I have to acquire you, if you disapprove of all that I have left? I know not, answered I, and all that I can really protest to you, is, That I am sensible of our common misfortune as you can desire, and I have still some hope to see Adallas in a better mind, if we manage his spirit gently, not knowing that ever he received any reproach for having failed of his word. By these Discourses, and some others, I disposed the spirit of Ariobarzanes, which was naturally very courteous, to moderate his resentments, so long as things were not grown desperate; and yet not to lose the opportunity of soliciting the King in a mild way, and of moving him to a consideration of his honour engaged in his promise.  
The next day the King who would not see any body after the last Conversation he had had with Ariobarzanes, came out of his Chamber, and came almost all alone to visit me in mine. Ariobarzanes, whether out of Design, or by Accident, I know not, came in immediately after, and I saw very well, that the King and he could not look one upon the other without changing of colour; but the King being resolved what he would say to me, the Prince's presence could not hinder him; and beginning to speak, though with a very ill assured Action: Madam, said he, If you could have Conquered those scruples which hindered you from loving me, or rather, that strong aversion which hath been the only cause of all the misfortunes of my life, by bestowing yourself upon me, you would have married a King, and have worn a very considerable Crown upon your Head; but if you marry Ariobarzanes, how illustrious soever his Birth is, you can never hope to be a Queen; and the Sceptre of the Armenians which is in his Brother's hands, so as it is never likely to come into his, will not exempt you from passing your days amongst the Armenians as a private person. This Discourse of the Kings being made in Ariobarzanes presence, did very sensibly afflict me, and fearing lest the Prince being interessed and obliged to make a Reply, should have done it too sharply, I gave him a hint with my eye, that he should leave the care of that to me, & preventing him just as he was about to open his mouth: Sir, said I to the King, Though the Prince Ariobarzanes could never hope for Crowns, his Birth is sublime enough to satisfy the Ambition of the greatest Princess upon Earth; and the merit of his Person great enough, to make it preferrible before the greatest Kings: And besides, if Fortune second his Virtue, he may yet expect a Crown; and it is probable, that he that did so valiantly defend yours, or rather, that so generously snatched it from your Enemies, to restore it to you, may make use of his Sword with the same success, and Conquer one for himself. You may Madam, added the impatient Prince, who could no longer contain himself, You may add to that which your Goodness causes you to say on my behalf, That when the King your Brother was a Prisoner to Merodates, and saw his Throne turned Topsie-turvey, standing in fear of the Enemy's Sword which hanged over his Head, he made no such reflection; but after he had represented very civilly to me, what nothing but Generosity could oblige me to do in his Favour, without demurring upon the want of a Crown with which he reproaches me, he promised me the Princess Olympia for my recompense, Yes, cried the King, quite transported with fury, Yes, I did promise thee Olympia; and since thou dost demand the performance of that promise with so much rigour, I will inviolably keep it; it shall never be objected to me that I break it, and I acquit myself of it from this moment, by putting Olympia into thy power, and giving thee leave to marry her. Did I promise thee any more? No Sir, immediately replied the Prince. I disengage myself then of my word, answered Adallas, in giving thee Olympia; Thou may'st marry her to day if thou wilt, but thou must resolve to die to morrow; I have promised thee Olympia, but I did not promise thee to let thee live in the possession of her, nor to let him triumph over my life, who hath proved my Murderer, in seeming the Defender of my people Resolve thyself upon this chose when thou pleasest; if there be any cruelty in it, thou hast taught it me by thy example; and if thou canst reproach me with any thing, 'tis not with falsifing my word. I was so troubled and so terrified at these cruel words of Adallas, that I had hardly any sensibility or understanding left; and I was so extremely amazed, that I had scarcely so much power as to cast my eyes one while upon the cruel Adallas, and another while upon the unfortunate Ariobarzanes. But the Prince did hardly seem to be moved at all, and looking upon Adallas with an Action full of scorn. The possession of Olympia which thou offerest me, said he, is of so high a value, that thou shalt not see me waver in the choice which thou presentest to me; and since I cannot expect so glorious a recompense from such an ungrateful and cruel person as thou art, without purchasing it with my life, thou shalt see me yield it up to thy rage without regret, when thou hast bestowed that upon my love which thou owest unto it. Give me the Princess then to day, and since the gods do judge that I deserve that happiness for no longer a continuance, dispose of my destiny to morrow as thou wilt. Thou shalt be satisfied, replied Adallas, more furious and more transported than before; and thou mayst, when thou pleasest, enjoy a felicity which thou shalt survive but for one day's space. I have lived long enough for thy ends, answered Ariobarzanes, seeing that from the miserable estate wherein I saw thee implore my Valour to save thy life, I have brought thee into condition to threaten and attack mine. If I offer any violence to thy life, interrupted Adallas, and if I sacrifice it to my misfortune, 'tis according to thy own will; but if thou lovest it so well, as to free me of my promise, and to content thyself with any other recompenses but Olympia, thou shalt know that nothing but my misfortune makes me ungrateful, and that 'tis my despair, rather than my inclination, that transports me to cruelty. Keep thyself, replied the Prince, keep thyself to thy Proposition, as I continue firm to mine; except Olympia, thou hast nothing in thy power but what is far below me, and the least of my Services; and with Olympia, whom thou owest me, I prefer the death which thou presentest me with, before thy Friendship to thy Crown.  
During this Discourse, having had time to recover out of my former astonishment, and to consider the interest which it did concern me to take in that contestation, I did not permit it to go any farther without interruption, and not judging it convenient to dissemble any part of my thoughts in that extremity of Affairs: Do not think, said I, Prince of Armenia, That thy life and person are so inconsiderable to me, that I can consent to the cruel agreement which thou makest with this ungrateful man; I shall be thine if the gods have so decreed it, whatsoever Adallas can do to hinder it; but I will not be thine only for a day, neither oughtest thou to accept of any condition not common to us both; though the Proposition of this Barbarian should be put in execution, his Fortune would not be one jot the better; and though he were not my Brother, he hath rendered himself too unworthy of any hopes that he might have for the widow of Ariobarzanes. Reserve thy life then for that which the gods have ordained it for; and if Heaven will not permit me to be thine, be assured that I will never be any man's else. Ariobarzanes being extremely moved at my words, threw himself at my feet, notwithstanding the presence of Adallas, and all his constancy could not hinder him from bedewing them with some tears. The King not being able to endure this Action, and the words that I had spoken, which filled him with despite, flung out of the Chamber in a furious Transport, after that he had again protested that he would keep his resolution; and Ariobarzanes staying there after him, made me such tender, and such passionate Discourses, that I could not forbear shedding an abundance of tears, and comforting him by the promise which I often made him. That I would bestow myself upon him, as soon as I could do it without putting his life in danger.  
We parted for that day without taking any resolution, and we met again for some days after to seek out the most probable expedients to remedy our misfortune; but in the mean while, the noise of what had past being spread over all the Court, filled it with astonishment and confusion; and the virtue of Ariobarzanes being dear to the Thracians, his Birth being known, and the memory of the great Actions which he had done in their favour being fresh, and the Kings promise divulged and received with joy, there was not a person in the Court to whom this last effect of the King's ingratitude was not odious, and who did not take the liberty openly to murmur at it. At last the chief of the Council, being assembled, went to the Palace, and ventured to represent to the King the consequences that might ensue upon this proceeding of his, as well by the aversion which he would cause in his people's minds by the continuance of his failings, as by the danger of a War which he might draw upon him, causing Armenia, and the greatest part of Asia to take up Arms against him. And in brief, they remonstrated so many things to him, that though he heard them with impatience, and at first flew out with a great deal of violence, yet at last he told them, that he would think once more what he had to do, and the next day he would acquaint them with his resolution.  
In the mean time, if on one side I afflicted myself, Ariobarzanes being full of fiery indignation, dreamt of nothing but revenge; and besides the interest of his love, considering the injurious usage he received, as an outrage which a Prince ought not to endure, he already thought of Arming all his Friends and Allies! Ah! 'Tis too much, said he, 'tis too much, to endure the ingratitude of a Barbarian patiently, and I ought not to have suffered so much, without making of him feel the effects of my just resentment; I shall not be so forsaken yet by the King my Brother, and the Princes our Allies, but that I can interess them in my quarrel. I will cover the Sea with Ships, and face Byzantium with other Sails than those of Merodates: which I burned; & other Troops than those of Chersonesus, which I defeated for that ungrateful man: I may possibly put him again into the condition out of which I freed him, and it may be I may see him again in such an extremity, that he shall be glad to receive peace, & to offer me Olympia.  
He had passed a whole Night in these imaginations, and the day following he was already fully resolved, when, contrary to his expectation, he was informed that the King was coming to visit him. He did so little look for this Visit, considering upon what terms the King and he parted, that he was surprised at it; and the King was come into his Chamber, before he had determined how to Treat with him. The King accosted him with a serene countenance, (though with a little care, one might have observed a great deal of constraint in it) and without deferring to acquaint him with the occasion of his Visit: I come, said he, to beg your pardon for the faults which my passion made me commit, and to entreat you to impute all the effects of my ingratitude, to the same love whereof you are sensible, and which is the only cause of all our quarrels. I am resolved to keep my word with you inviolably, and to put Olympia into your power, as a recompense most justly due to the greatness of your Services, and the merit of your Person. But because it is only by your own word that we know that you are Prince of Armenia, though I will make no question of the Truth of it, yet to avoid the blame which otherwise I might incur, you may be pleased to give me leave to follow the Advice of my Council, who have desired, that the keowledge which you have given us of your Birth, should be confirmed to us before that you espouse the Princess. Yet I do not desire to detain her here till we have received that confirmation; that time perhaps would seem too long to the impatience of your love, and I shall be willing myself to send her out of my sight as soon as may be, that in her absence I may find a remedy for that cruel passion which hath been the cause of all my misfortunes. To morrow, without any longer delay, I will send her on Shipboard with you to go towards Armenia under your Conduct; but you must allow her to be accompanied by some person of Quality amongst my Subjects, and a Convoy agreeable to her condition; and you must promise me that you will not marry her, till you arrive at the King your Brother's Court, and have made yourself known to the princess, and those that bear her Company to be the Prince Ariobarzanes. I owe this care at least to Olympia's Quality, though I give absolute credit to that which you have told me concerning your Birth, and you must not take it ill, that out of decency I observe this formality in an Action of this importance.  
Ariobarzanes was almost ravished with joy to hear these words from the King, and being well assured that he could make the Truth of what he had told us concerning his Birth appear in Armenia, both to me and to those that accompanied me; he found nothing disadvantageous to himself in the King's Proposition, and therefore very readily embraced it. Sir (said he) it was always hoped, that your Virtue would render itself Mistress of your passion; and that it could not absolutely forget 't self, though it was obscured with some Clouds which love might produce in the sublimest Souls. I receive the honour you do me with a great deal of joy and respect; and I shall not be dissatisfied, myself to certify the Princess, and the persons of her Retinue of the Truth of my Birth, before I attain to the favour of enjoying her. I assure myself, that the King my Brother will testify to your Subjects how joyful he is of our Alliance; and that by this Action you will restore Tranquillity to your mind, and all its lustre to your former Reputation. After these words, and some others full of Civility, the King conducted him into my Chamber, where, to free me quickly out of the surprise I was in to see them come in together, considering what had passed between them at the last Visit, he made me the same Discourse that he had made to the Prince; he desired me to pardon him for the displeasures he had done me, and prayed me to dispose myself to go the next day along with Ariobarzanes, being unwilling any longer to be exposed to a sight of that which would always hinder his Cure, and might possibly cast him again into those misfortunes which he had lately escaped.  
I do not deny, my fair Princesses, but that the Kings Discourse filled me with as much joy as I was capable to receive; and though I endeavoured partly to dissemble it, the jealous King perceived enough to renew his grief. I protested to him that I had no other Design but to obey him, and that whatsoever esteem I had for Ariobarzanes, I had always declared to him, that I would never give him any greater proofs of it, without the consent of those persons to whom I owed that deference; I told him that I should never have desired to part from him, if I had not been too well acquainted with the bad effects which my presence produced in relation to his repose and mine; and that since he desired that I should go, I would be ready when he pleased, promising him, according to Ariobarzanes' Example, not to marry him, till I knew him very well to be Prince of Armenia. The King seemed to be very much satisfied when things were thus agreed, he made very magnificent Presents to the Prince and me, and desired us oftentimes to pardon him, if he could not yet resolve upon this separation without some Testimonies of grief. We did not think it strange, but did rather wonder very much that he was so suddenly inclined to a thing which a little before he seemed so averse from.  
I will not detain you any longer with an unprofitable relation of those things which ordinarily pass in Actions of that Nature, I took my leave, and received the farewells of the whole Court of Thrace, where without vanity I may speak it, I left some regret to those persons who were acquainted with me, amongst whom I had the good Fortune not to be hated, and employed the rest of that day in necessary preparations for my departure. The next day all things were ready, and the joyful Ariobarzanes received me from the King's hands to conduct me into a great and magnificent Vessel, which Euribiades (a man of the greatest Quality in Thrace, and one of the King's chiefest Confidents) commanded for my Conduct, with Two hundred men for our Convoy. We took our leaves of the King and the whole Court which accompanied us to the Seaside, and there were some tears shed upon both sides, though in the King's face and actions I found more moderation than I had expected. At last we went aboard the Vessel, and set Sail from the Port of Byzantium, taking the way towards Armenia by the Egean Sea, with a Design to go by Sea to the farthest part of Cilicia, and finish our Voyage from thence by Land. I know not how to represent to you the joy which appeared in the Discourse, and all the Actions of Ariobarzanes, now he supposed himself to be upon the point of attaining to that which he accounted his supreme felicity; what Transports he expressed to me in all his words, what Caresses and Presents he made of those which he had received from the King, to those that were of our Convoy, and what greater recompense he promised them when he arrived in Armenia. For my part, I confess, I was very much satisfied to see myself freed from Adalla's persecutions, and to see myself upon the point of acknowledging freely the affections of a Prince very worthy of mine, and for whom I had conceived so much.  
We passed the hours in a very pleasing Conversation, and I did more and more discover such charms in the Prince's disposition, as redoubled my Amity. The memory of our past misfortunes began to grow out of date, and was left as far as Thrace behind us; and in short, we thought ourselves secure from all calamities, when Fortune made us know that she was not reconciled to us, and that we had no reason to put any confidence in her continual volubility. We found ourselves in greater miseries, and more formidable dangers than those which we had escaped, the Relation whereof you shall now receive, though I assure myself it will not be without astonishment and horror.  
We had sailed four days with a favourable wind, and we had reason to hope for the same tranquillity in the rest of our Voyage, when I saw one of the chief of those who had Commission to conduct us, named Antenor, a man full of Valour, and upon whom since the beginning of our Voyage the Prince had bestowed particular marks of his esteem, come into the Cabin where Ariobarzanes was with me. He accosted us with an Action which signified the importance of those things which he had to acquaint us with, and addressing himself to the Prince, without standing upon those Civilities which he was wont to render us: Sir, said he, Prepare yourself to defend your life with a small number of men who desire to die at your feet. Euribiades hath lately acquainted us with the King's intention, and showed us an Order written with his own hand, by which we are commanded to throw you into the Sea, and to carry back the Princess to Byzantium, Euribiades is resolved to put it in execution, though I have endeavoured as much as I could to divert him from it; and he hath now overpowred the resistance which he sound amongst some of our Companions, who were immediately stricken with horror at the News. There are above Thirty besides myself, who are resolved to defend you to the last drop of their blood; you have almost such a Number of Domestics who may Arm themselves for the defence of their Prince, and for their own safety; and though our Enemies be thrice as many as we, your Valour will partly supply our weakness; and if we must perish, as the danger is very great, we will first revenge our deaths by the destruction of some part of these Barbarians. Antenor had leisure to finish this Discourse to us, by reason of the astonishment which had seized upon us at the beginning of it; and he had hardly done speaking, not I scarcely begun to cry out with Transport, when we saw that Number of generous men come into the Cabin, who were minded to die in the defence of Ariobarzanes. The Prince being quickly resolved, advanced towards them with a very assured countenance; and whilst his Domestics drew up about us, and armed themselves with all speed, My Friends, said he to them, There was little probability, that Adallas should become virtuous, after those Actions which he had committed; I am sorry that your Generosity casts you into so great a danger for the love of me; but if I cannot dissuade you from the Design which you have to expose yourselves to death with me, let us die at least in such a manner, that a good part of our Enemies may not rejoice in our Destruction.  
He had hardly done speaking these words, but Euribiades plainly perceiving that his Design being discovered, he could not execute it but by open source, appeared in the Head of his men at the Cabin-door. I thrust myself before him with a great cry, and being desirous to try if I could divert him from his resolution by my presence; and my Discourse, Euribiades, said I, Do you so little consider what you owe to your Princess, and will you murder him before her face, who ought to be her Husband, a Prince from whom you have received such good Offices? Madam, briskly replied Euribiades, I am very sorry that I have received this Commission; but my life lies at stake, if I do not obey my King. Begin with me then, cried I, and make thy passage through my heart to hurt Ariobarzanes: Thou hast no other way open to come at him, and thou must shed all my blood, before thou spillest the first drop of his. As I spoke these words, I kept close to the door, being resolved to be killed there, rather than give them passage; and I plainly saw that my words immediately raised a murmur amongst those men, and in conclusion drew Ten or twelve more of them to our Party, who with the same Courage as the first, came to join with them, and entered into my Cabin by the other door, which belonged to Ariobarzanes' Cabin. 'Twas the same way that Euribiades would have rushed in at with some of his Party, making some difficulty to pass over me, and fearing to put me in danger of my life, betwixt the Swords ofboth Parties; but he found the Prince at the entry, who being completely Armed, and holding his Shield in his left hand, did so defend the passage against him, that the two first that came, fell dead at his feet. Antenor, and his Companions, with the Prince's Domestics, amounting in all to the Number of Seventy men, or threabout, ranked themselves about him, and did so encourage themselves by his Valour, that they quickly made Euribiades know, that without losing a good part of his men, he could not execute his Design: And 'tis certain, that if he had resolved to source his entrance into the Cabin, and to sight in a narrow place, where he could not make use of all his advantages, though he had been a great deal stronger, he would have gotten nothing but shame and loss; but judging that if they fought at large, the Prince, though endued with never so admirable Valour, would not be able with Threescore men to sustain the brunt of a Hundred and sixty, he commanded them to pull down the Board's of both Cabins, and to lay all the top of the Vessel open. That which he commanded, was put in execution with so much speed, that within a few moments there was no separation between the Cabins, and the rest of the Vessel; and the Prince was necessitated, to resolve to defend himself by open force against his Enemies, who had liberty to assail him on every side; and so he did with such prodigious effects of Valour, that his Enemies trembled at it, and were more afraid of his fury, than of as many men more as made up their Number. Few that came near him, retired without receiving mortal wounds at his hands; and sometimes advancing before his Company, and flying amongst the Barbarians like a Lion, he killed the boldest of them, and made the rest retreat to the side of the Vessel.  
Whilst these things passed, I sent up cries and prayers towards Heaven, and detesting Adallas' black infidelity, I begged assistance of the gods with a face quite drowned in tears. Above twenty men of the Prince's party were already slain, and above forty of our Enemies; when Ariobarzanes seeing Euribiades eagerly pursuing his Destruction, and encouraging his men with his voice as much as was possible, he resolved either to hasten his own death, or to be the death of that cruel man. Though he had always had this intention, he was so close beset, that he had not the opportunity to put it in execution; but then despising all Dangers and Obstacles, he flew immediately to him through all those that defended him, and in spite of all their resistance, he thrust his Sword into his body up to the Hilts. This revenge (which for all that he could not execute without receiving some slight wounds) redoubled his fierceness, and seeing him fall dead amongst his men. Thou shalt not rejoice, said he, in the Success of thy Enterprise, and thou shalt not carry Adallas the News of Ariobarzanes death, now Euribiades is dead. His men were not discouraged for all that; for he had a Nephew amongst them, who being afflicted at the loss of his Uncle, animated them to revenge it, and fell on amongst the foremost with a great deal of eagerness. What shall I say more unto you? The Combat was very hot, and was maintained in such a manner, that all the Vessel swum with blood, and the Deck was covered with dead bodies; the cries of the wounded and dying men reached Heaven with a terrible noise; and I did so accompany them with mine, and my Maids, who melted into tears round about me, that possibly there was never seen such a spectacle of Desolation and Terror.  
At last the valiant Ariobarzanes after he had done things above all credibility, and had covered himself from head to foot with the blood of his Enemies, with the assistance of his faithful Defenders, had sacrificed above a Hundred of them to his vengeance; but against Threescore and above that still opposed him, he had not above Twelve or Fifteen left, and those almost all covered over with wounds; and though by great good luck, and the assistance of his Arms he had received but very slight wounds, yet he was so wearied and tired, that he could hardly heave up his Arm, or hold his Sword; and there was great probability that ere long he would fall amongst the rest, considering that he was neither immortal, nor invulnerable; when contrary to our expectation, the gods sent in to our assistance three men which the trouble we were in had hindered us from discovering, and which environed our Ship before that we had scarcely perceived them. This sight having transported me with joy, I ran to the first men that I saw appear, and stretching out my hands to them in a supplicating posture, I conjured them to assist against the cruelty of our Enemies. Without returning any Answer to my words, they did what I desired of them; and after they had stayed a little while to look upon the inequality of the Combat, they grappled our Vessel, and entered in it three places at once. They presently assisted the weakest side, and having easily, by reason of their Number, cut in pieces the greated part of our Enemies, the rest of them threw down their Arms, and cried out for Quarter.  
At the same time the Prince not being able to stand any longer for weakness and weariness, sat down amongst the dead bodies, leaning his back against the Mast, and letting his Head and Arms fall into a careless posture, not having strength either to thank his Defenders, or to stir out of his place. I presently ran to him seeing him in that condition, and with the help of my Maids, discharging him of his Armour, I began to visit his wounds, and endeavoured to stop his blood. They which had succoured us, looked earnestly upon me whilst I was thus employed, and having seen the last effects of the Prince's Valour with admiration, they gave order that the Chirurgeons which they had in their Company, should visit his wounds, and give him that assistance which was necessary. The Prince, through those persons that were busied about his assistance, looking upon me with eyes that signified his acknowledgement and affection: Madam, said he, The remainders of this life of mine are not worth the pains you take for their preservation; and I should conjure you to take less care of them, if they were not in a manner necessary for your Service still. Your life, replied I, is too dear to me to be neglected, and there is no reason why you should defend it with so admirable a Valour to no purpose. I spoke these words to him, being full of a mortal apprehension; but it was immediately dissipated by the search and report of the Chirurgeons, who assured us, and made it evidently appear to us, that his wounds were of no importance, and that he would not be obliged, except he were so minded to keep his Bed the next day. When this assurance had expelled my fears, and had restored me to a condition of thinking upon our Fortune. I charged Ericia privately to forbid those men of ours that were left, and those of Euribiades' Party which were saved, to discover the Trutil of our condition without my leave, fearing that I might be fallen into the hands of some persons, who upon consideration of some interest, might put me again into the power of the King my Brother. My will was exactly performed by Ericia, and they that enquired, were only told that we were Thracians, and were going upon important occasions into Armenia.  
But observe, my fair Princesses, what our Fortune was, and how that pitiless goddess did persevere in persecuting of us. I saw my dear Ariobarzanes miraculously escaped from a great danger, and it is certain that I resented this happiness with all the joy that my Soul was able to receive, but it was the will of Heaven to check it with too severe a moderation; and the same destiny which brought in men to our assistance, caused us to fall into the hands of Pirates; they were Pirates indeed who had rescued us, and the most cruel of those who had escaped from great Pompey's Victories. At first, the strangeness of the Spectacle which was presented to their eyes, and some small sense of humanity in relation to the pitiful condition wherein they found us, made them for a few moments suspend their ordinary barbarousness; but when their first astonishment was dissipated, and they had time to bethink themselves, they discovered their ordinary condition, and quickly made us know into what hands we were fallen. They began to share as their own Goods all that was in our Vessel, they clap't all our Soldiers into the Chain; and as for our parts whom they judged to have some Authority over the rest, they told us that we must resolve to support the change of our Fortune; that of free persons we were to become slaves, and must dispose ourselves to live in that condition, or find out some means to redeem our liberty at a high rate. This Discourse did so amaze me at the first, that I knew not what Reply to make; but I was much more surprised, when I saw the Commanders of the three Vessels consult together about their shares, and knew by the conclusion of their Discourse that I was to be separated from my dear Prince, and he to whose lot I fell, urged me to go into his Ship, Ariobarzanes, as seeble and tired as he was, having heard this Discourse, cried out as well as I, and raising himself upon the Mattress whereon he lay, You shall not part us, said he to the Pirates, you shall not part us, except you part my soul from my body; and my weakness shall not hinder me from dispatching the first that shall go about to execute this cruelty against us. As he spoke these words, he got quite up, whilst I laying hold upon his Arm, No, Ariamenes, said I, I will not leave you, unless I leave my life too; and these cruel men may more easily deprive me of that, than force me to go from you. The Barbarians were not moved at all at this sad Spectacle, and after that they had publicly declared that they would meet within a Month hard by Alexandria; he to whom I was appointed, taking me by the Arm, pulled me by force from Ariobarzanes, and with the aid of his Companions, carried me towards his Vessel.  
The Prince being furious and desperate at this sight, ran to his Sword, either to seek his death in my defence, or to be the death of those cruel men, but they sell upon him being weak and disarmed, and having gotten him down, they bound him fast, and put him into a condition that he could not give me any assistance. I had time to see that Action before I went out of the Vessel, and I was so much moved at it, that not being able to resist this last attack of my misfortune, I fell into a swoon between the Arms of these men that carried me, and did not come again to myself, till after I had been a good while ●n the other Vessel, when that which carried away my dear Ariobarzanes, was possibly above a Thousand Furlongs distant from me. I know not how to tell you, my fair Princesses, what I did or said upon this terrible effect of my misfortune; all the constancy which I had made use of in all the other accidents of my life, abandoned me in this last, and exclamations seemed too weak to ease my grief; doubtless I had thrown myself into the Sea, if I had not been carefully looked to and prevented. In fine, I did so torment myself, that I was seized upon by a violent Fever, which within a few days reduced me to such a condition; that they despaired of my life. The only favour that I received from Fortune on this occasion, and which indeed was of no small concernment to me, was, that my faithful Ericia was the Companion of my Captivity, and none of my Maids but she were permitted to follow me. The rest of them sell to the other Commanders shares; and I should have sadly deplored their misfortune, if my own had not been great enough to take up all my thoughts. 'Twas great deal of comfort to me to see Ericia near me, & to hear and endure from her, that which her affection made her to speak to defend me from Despair. But in a short time my malady brought me to that pass, that nothing was expected but my death; yet the gods were not pleased that that should put a period to my misfortune; and being escaped by Ericia's continual persecutions, who in cessantly begged of me to preserve my life for Ariobarzanes, and promised me that by the goodness of the gods, I might be permitted to see him once again, I continued in such a condition for all that, that no body could know me. I always thought that this sickness was my greatest happiness, and I have thanked the gods a Thousand times for sending it me as a defence of my honour; for it did so efface that little beauty which the Commander of the Pirates had observed in my face, and upon which he had some Design, that finding some remainders of it, and seeing that in a Month's time I did not mend at all, he judged me more proper for the Grave, than for his Love, and so left me at quiet.  
At the Month's end we did not fail to go to Alexandria, where the Pirate valuing me no more than another, in the condition wherein he saw me, sold me to some Merchants of Alexandria with whom he had Commerce; and some days after those Mercants sold us to Cornelius, in whose Service we have continued with the rest of his Slaves above Two Months, just as you see us. I would not discover myself, nor use any endeavour to recover my liberty, because I remembered that Ariobarzanes had heard as well as I, when the Pirate who carried me away promised to be at Alexandria, and I did not doubt but if he could recover his liberty by any means, he would have affection enough for me to look after me, and to come to Alexandria in hope of hearing some News of me. The gods have been pleased that the effect should be conformable to my expectation: for this day have I seen Ariobarzanes, and I know that he is in Alexandria. If they permit that he be unfaithful to me, I shall only have prolonged my life for my greater misfortune, and to finish with a more violent grief than I should have been sensible of amongst the waves; but if he hath preserved his Fidelity, as I am willing to expect from his Virtue, and very great probabilities, I hope for a change in my Fortune as advantageous as I can desire, and such a one, my fair Princesses, as I would wish to see in yours.  
The End of the Second Book.   

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA; OR, Loves Masterpiece. PART. VII.  
LIB. III.  
ARGUMENT.  
Olympia having finished her Story, Candace and Eliza return to their Lodging, where they are visited the next Morning by Agrippa and Cornelius, who present the two famous Poets Virgil and Ovid to the Princesses. Divers handsome Discourses pass amongst them, which being ended, Elisa and Candace desire Cornelius to give them liberty to take a solitary walk along the Seashore; He grants their Request, though somewhat unwillingly, but appoints a Convoy to attend them at a distance to secure them from all ill accidents. As they are preparing to go, Olympia comes into the Chamber, and immediately after Philadelph, Ariobarzanes and Arsinoe come to visit the Princesses. Their mutual Compliments being ended, Olympia takes an occasion to discover herself to Ariobarzanes, who is infinitely surprised with joy at the sight of her. She goes with Ariobarzanes and Arsinoe to their Lodgings, and leaves Elisa and Candace to their intended Journey. When they are all gone, Agrippa takes Ovid with him to his Chamber, and there engages him to give him a Relation of what had passed between the Princess Julia and himself; which having promised his love to Cipassis he does at large; and at the end of the Story, Agrippa is invited by Cornelius to ride out and meet the Princesses at their return from their walk.  
THE Princess of Thrace concluded the Relation of her Adventures in this manner, and the two fair Princesses who had harkened to it with attention and astonishment, no sooner heard the end of it, but they were very desirous to express what interest they took in her Fortune whatsoever it might be. The Queen being not so sad as Elisa was, and consequently more capable to participate of another's misfortunes, or at least to express herself upon that occasion, began the Discourse; and pressing Olympia's hand with an Action full of the marks of her Amity. My fair Princess, said the, I see very well that Fortune hath spared you no more than us; and that you may make the third with us, amongst persons of our Rank who have be en the most exposed to her cruel persecutions; but the gods be thanked that your mishaps are arrived at their period, and by the coming of your wellbeloved Prince, your condition is likely to be happily changed. I shall look upon that change with a great deal of joy, added the sad Elisa, or at least, said she, recalling herself, with all the joy that can be resented by a mind quite swallowed up of affliction. I do not despair, replied Candace, but that we shall shortly receive the same consolation upon your Account; and if I may give credit to the presage; which I have of your Fortune, you may very well expect it. May it please the gods, answered the dissolate Princess, that your hopes may be well grounded; but I have so little hope left that no good will ever happen to me, which will not infinitely surprise me. I said as much to you, replied the Queen, when I believed by all the probabilities in the World that Cesario was slain in the Battle which he fought against Tribarzus: and I had not much greater grounds to hope, added the Princess of Thrace, when Ariobarzanes and I in the little Island, were reduced to extremities, from which we could not escape but by miracle.  
Elisa being unwilling to oppose their opinion, or at least their Discourse, made them no Reply, but with some tears which she let fall from her fair eyes, and leaning her Head against Candace's shoulder, with a pitiful and languishing Action, she obliged her to bear her Company in her sad employment. When they had taken a little Truce with sorrow, they renewed to Olympia the offers they had made her; and after that they stayed a few moments longer with her, they bid her good Night, and retired themselves into Elisa's Chamber, where they intended to lie together that Night. They were no sooner come thither, but Candace, who had the desire of going to seek out Cesario, whom she certainly believed she had seen the day before always present in her mind, began the Discourse of him again to the Princess of the Parthians, and representing to her the comfort she herself would receive by the sight of Prince Tiridates her Uncle, found her absolutely disposed to accompany her, in her walk that way.  
Candace believed she might oblige Cornelius to give them that liberty, without bearing of them company, when she should entreat him with the power she had over him to comply so far with Elisa's sadness, who desired some hours of solitude. They were troubled how they should do to find out Tiridates' house by the name, not knowing the name of that Inhabitant of Alexandria to whom it belonged, nor desiring to acquaint those that accompanied them, that they had a premeditated Design to go and seek out that house; but Clitie, from whom they did not conceal themselves in their conversation, partly satisfied them in that respect, telling them that she had exactly observed the sciattuion of that house in that little time they had continued there; and that they needed only to pass along by the Seashore, and when they were near it, she knew the place very well. Candace might with as much ease at least have caused herself to be conducted to the house where she had seen her wellbeloved Prince, and in all probability that was the shortest way to find him again, but she was afraid to expose him the to sight of those persons who were to accompany her, and knowing with what dangers his life was threatened, if he were known in those Countries which were under Augustus' Dominion, she chose rather to deprive herself of the sight of him for some few days, that he might the better remain concealed, and to confide absolutely in the discretion and goodness of Prince Tiridates, to whom she was already beholding for her life, and by his means she hoped to convey News to Cesario, and to receive News from him with facility.  
In this Design, and some hours of interrupted sleep, the two Princesses passed away the Night, and the next day they rose more early than they had been wont to do, and dressed themselves with a negligence, which, as excessive as it was, could diminish nothing of their admirable beauty. When they were in a condition to be seen, Agrippa and Cornelius having sent to desire permission, came to give them Good-morrow, and brought along with them two men whom they desired to present and make known to them for the excellency of their wit, and the reputation which they had acquired throughout the extent of the Roman Empire. These were Virgil and Ovid, two rare and famous men, who had been sufficiently known to posterity by the excellency of their writings.  
Virgil had contracted a very near Amity with Cornelius, as part of those works which he hath left behind him do make mention; and Cornelius, who was a passionate Lover of Poetry, and very happy in his own composition, as his works yet extant testify, had obliged him to leave Rome, to come and spend some time with him at Alexandria, and there to exercise his sublime and stately Muse with greater liberty than amongst the troubles of the Court. Virgil was easily persuaded to give his Friend that satisfaction, and being a man absolutely addicted to knowledge and study, he employed at that time the greatest part of his hours in the composition of those famous works which have acquired him so much glory.  
Ovid was a man much different from Virgil, and though he had as much inclination to Poetry, and more facility in it than he, or all the men that ever applied themselves that way, and did often publish very excellent and admirable productions of his wit, yet he made use of Poetry as a divertisement, and not as his principal employment; or rather he recreated himself with it as the best Interpreter he could employ in his amorous passions, wherein he had spent the better part of his days. As no person ever better knew, or better treated of Love than he; so possibly there was never any person that had better resented it, and it was well known that he had had very good Fortunes and that the most Noble of the Roman Ladies had not been insensible of his affections. He had likewise, besides the address and charms of disposition, against which it was difficult to defend one's self, all the qualities which might make a man beloved, or render him worthy of esteem. He was a Knight of Rome, of an illustrious Birth, which entitled him to the most eminent Rank. He had passed his days at Court, and upon divers occasions he had given proofs of his Courage, which had acquired him the esteem of Cesar, of Agrippa, and of all the Warriors; no less than the excellency of his wit had gained him the general approbation, and particularly that of the Ladies, amongst whom he was much caressed & favoured. He was come to Alexandria along with Agrippa whom he waited upon, more for the qualities he was Master of, and the esteem he had for persons of merit, than for the great power he had in the Empire, and in Caesar's affection, which daily drew both Kings and Princes to attend upon him.  
Agrippa and Cornelius presented these two men to the Princesses, who had divers times heard them spoken of before, and received them with all manner of courteous entertainment and Civility. Ovid being the greater Gallant, and the Politer of the two, fell presently into Discourse, and being, besides the advantages which his mind had received from Nature, admirably well versed in Courtship, and not ignorant of any thing that might render his Conversation agreeable, did easily persuade the Princesses by his first discourse, that he had very justly acquired the reputation which he possessed. Agrippa and Cornelius who had nothing so much upon their spirits as their passion, would willingly have bestowed every moment of their converse with the Princesses upon that, but besides that the respect which they had for them, did partly deprive them of the liberty and boldness to declare their thoughts, the Company obstructed the Design which possibly they had to do it, and they would have been very glad if they could have severally discoursed their love to their Mistresses; but they had taken an Order to pevent that, and Candace who had already suffered Cornelius' first Discourses with a great deal of displeasure, and desired to avoid them for the future, though she could not do it more civilly, and with less danger of rendering a man her Enemy of whom she had great need at that time, and to whom she acknowledged herself reduable, than by keeping herself inseparably close to Elisa: And in this manner she did her Friend no less a good turn, to whom Agrippa's growing passion had already given sufficient suspicions to make her very much afraid of it.  
This man being full of Virtue and Discretion, and naturally very respectful to persons of Elisa's Sex and Quality, not having the confidence openly to declare in her presence that which he had upon his heart, endeavoured to express himself a little more covertly, and taking an occasion upon a Discourse they had made before concerning some of Ovid's and Virgil's Works, and some gallant pieces of Cornelius', who was very happy that way: Of all the Number of us that are here, said he, I am the only ignorant person, and if Ovid, for that friendship's sake which is between us could make me participate of his admirable Genius I would serve myself with it, as I assure myself he hath often done, to declare under pretty Fictions the true resentments of my Soul. The gods, replied Ovid, would have given you this advantage, if it had been necessary for you; but in the condition wherein you are, and the great confidence which your excellent qualities may cause in you, you have no need of those Fictions which Poetry might furnish you withal, to express those thoughts which with more boldness than any other person you may openly discover. I cannot agree with you, modestly answered Agrippa, in the flattering Discourse you make me, and I find in myself but little reason for that confidence to which you would persuade me; but though I were such as you represent me, or as possibly our friendship would make you desire me to be, I could not find any thing in the knowledge of it, that might dispense with that which we owe to persons worthy of our respects; and when our Soul is once made a Subject to the Empire of a Beauty, and of a Beauty accompanied with all other advantages, which may confirm its Domination; that boldness which carries us through in Combats, and dangerous Erterprises, doth not accompany us before those Sovereign Mistresses, at whose feet our heart is disarmed of all its Forces: The boldest man that is (if his boldness be not vicious, and do not pass the limits which reason ought to prescribe) loses without doubt a good part of his Audacity, when being upon the point to venture himself, the Beauty which is predominant over his spirit, darts him an imperious look, wherein he may read the condemnation of his rashness; or passes into such a coldness, as freezes up all his hopes, and stifles his expressions in his mouth. Upon such an Account as this, my dear Ovid, 'tis advantageous to have a particular Address to explain one's self, and by this means a man doth not so rashly commit himself to Fortune, which oftentimes is doubtful, and makes us fall into displeasures, which by a respectful silence we might have avoided. 'tis certain, said Ovid, That by a respectful or timorous silence, which ties up the tongue upon these occasions, one may secure himself from bad success, but then he continues in a condition which possibly is not to be preferred before that which may be feared from a venturous Declaration; yet it is not that I approve of an indiscreet presumption, or think it convenient to manifest presently to the person beloved the passionate thoughts a man hath for her; but in a little time, and with a little Discretion, one may easily find an opportunity, and do that handsomely and seasonably, which at another time would be inconvenient. To this end, I have always thought it necessary to prevent the Declarations of our love by some Actions that may make it known to the Party beloved, and to prepossess her mind by those services and effects of compliance which ordinarily are produced by that passion, before we venture to express it by Discourse; this way you are almost sure of the event, before you put it to the hazard; and if the person beloved be averse from your love, and is afraid of a fuller Declaration of it, than you have made by your Actions, she will never give you way to put it to the venture, but will so deprive you of all confidence and opportunities, that if you have never so little prudence left, you will never expose yourself to it. I do not doubt, said the Queen Candace to Ovid, interrupting him, but you have often practised the Lessons which you give to others, and have been sensible sometimes of that passion which you have so handsomely described in your writings. 'Tis certain, Madam, replied Ovid, that I have not lived thus long without loving something, and that I have not received so much dulness and stupidity from Nature, as to have seen a great Number of considerable Beauties without any sensibility. But if you have loved, added the sad Elisa, being of the humour that you are, you did not suffer long before you discovered your love. 'Tis true, Madam, answered he, That I have loved, and have always made my passion known to those persons, who took notice of it, and in this I have carried myself differently according to occasions, according to the humour, and sometimes according to the quality of the persons that I loved. Tot hose in whom I observed most facility, or most disposition to receive my love, I discovered in almost before it was form; but when I was to deal with those that were more severe, I waited till time and my serviees had wrought some effect upon them; and if neither time nor my Actions rendered me that good Office which I expected, I served myself, as the great Agrippa lately told you, with such inventions as my wit could furnish me withal. Sometimes under other names, I let them see whatsoever my passion for them inspired my Pen withal, and when by little and little I had reduced them to approve of my thoughts, and to grant me that the person for whom I had conceived and expressed them, could not be offended at them; I did insensibly acquaint them with the Truth, and obliged them too to thank me for the respect I expressed to them by this Address. Sometimes in Heroical Epistles, upon which Argument I have composed some Elegies, which I persuaded them to read; in the passions of Theseus, Achilles, and Paris, I let them see my own; and when I knew that I had moved them to pity Paris, I desired them to bestow the same compassion upon Ovid. I made use of divers other inventions which do not deserve to be related to you; but I may truly say without vanity, that which way soever I went to work, and though I never addressed myself to mean persons, yet 'tis certain for all that, that of all the persons to whom I discovered my passion, (which possibly have been a great Number) there was never any that was offended with it, or at least that ever expressed any anger upon that Account that lasted above a day.  
The Company could not choose but smile at this Discourse which Ovid made them with a great deal of grace and ingenuity, and Cornelius taking a hint: You were very happy, said he, and all persons that have loved, and ventured to declare themselves as you did, have not had the same success: He spoke these words looking upon the Queen of Ethiopia, who not being able to be so far Mistress of her resentment, as to forbear a Reply; 'Twas, said she, because they did not follow his Maxims, and wait as he did, till their Services had gained the heart of the Party beloved, before they ventureed to discover themselves. Prudence, added Virgil, who as yet had not interposed in their Discourse, is none of the virtues which ordinarily accompany love? and if Ovid had it either for the Companion or Guide of high amorous Adventures, his passions have not been very violent. I have had, replied Ovid, those that were violent, and those that were moderate; and though possibly I have resented those which were strong enough to discompose that little prudence I might have received from Nature, yet in my loves I have made little use of the assistance of that virtue which is not over-familiar to persons of my humour, and have gone by another path, which the long usage of that Passion, and the inclination I have naturally to it, might have tanght me above a great many other persons; and thence it is, that possibly I have had better success in my petit amorous projects, than our Cato 's and Philosophers would have had with all their prudence. And to answer Cornelius 's Discourse who accounts me very happy in comparison of a great many others, I will confess myself to be really happy, if I make my happiness to consist in a thing of nothing; and not being able to give myself any other vanity, but only to cause the persons whom I have loved, to endure the Discourse of my love, I satisfied myself with it, leaving to the more happy, and the more meritorious, the glory of having camsed love in others, which is far to be preferred before the speaking of it only. You are very modest, said Agrippa, looking upon Ovid with a smile, feigned-Corinna, whom you have so handsomely disguized to all the world, is not possibly so unknown to me as you imagine. Ovid blushed at Agrippa's Discourse, and expressed sufficient trouble to oblige Agrippa, who was of no disobliging humour, to repent himself of what he had said. Fear not, added he to recompose him, I will say no more of it; and that which you keep secret is so still, seeing 'tis only the suspicion of your best Friend. Sir, replied Ovid, I have no secret worthy of you, which I would have concealed from you, if you had had a desire to know it. I shall try that, answered Agrippa, perhaps before this day be past; and if you have any confidence in me, I promise you I will not abuse it. Ovid made a Reply to this Discourse with that respect which was due to such a personage as Agrippa was; and Agrippa; whom his Dignities and the greatness of his Actions had not made proud, received his Discourse very civility, and with a very good grace.  
Immediately after, Candace having winked upon Elisa. according to the Design they had, that fair Princess, turning herself towards Cornelius, prayed him to give them the opportunity to walk a few hours that day along the shore, and in the Neighbouring wood to take the Air, and to entertain their sad thoughts at liberty. You may absolutely command what you please, said Cornelius, and you shall have Chariots ready at what hour you please, both for yourselves, and for those persons whom you will receive into your Company. We two would be alone, if you please, replied the Princess, with our Maids, and the men that shall be necessary for our Conduct. There is no likelihood, said Agrippa, that you should go out of the City so; and besides that, it will be unconformable to your Quality, since the Accidents that lately happened to the Princess Cleopatra, and to you Madam (said he pointing to the Queen of Ethiopia) we should be blamed, if we did permit you to expose yourselves to the same danger. We have no more Enemies in this Country, added Candace and if you do not grant us this liberty as we desire it, we will not receive it any otherwise. Both Cornelius and Agrippa contested a long time with the Princesses to have permission to bear them Company; but when they saw them fixed in their resolution, they were constrained to comply, only prevailing with them to consent that Twenty men should follow them on Horseback at a little distance, to secure them in case of necessity, from such Accidents as might arrive. The business was thus resolved, and the two Lovers did so much the more willingly submit to the will of the Princesses, because they assured them that they desired to be alone only for that day, and afterwards they would not refuse their Company.  
A little after they went forth to give the Princess' liberty to prepare for their going abroad, and to go to Dinner, the hour being near at hand; but they would not think upon either, before they had seen the Princess Olympia, to know the condition of her body, mind and fortune since the last Night; but as they were going out of their own Chamber to go to hers, they saw her come in with a more assured countenance than she had at their last interview. I am resolved, said she to them, to make a full discovery of my Destiny to day, and whatsoever it pleases the gods to send me, I hope to know it before Night. The two Princesses expressed a great deal of joy to see her so healthful in body, and so quiet in mind as she seemed to be, and confirmed her by all manner of reasons in those hopes which she ought to conceive. They had not spent half an hour in this Conversation, but they saw Cornelius come back into their Chamber, who came to them, and told them, that Philadelph Prince of Cilicia, Ariobarzanes Brother to the King of Armenia, and the Princess Arsinoe his Sister, having understood that the Princess of the Parthians was in the Palace, were come to visit her, and desired permission to see her.  
If the Habit of a Slave wherewith Olympia was disguized, had permitted Cornelius to observe the emotion which his words had wrought in her, he would have perceived that they operated otherwise upon her, than they did upon the Princess to whom he addressed them; and the illustrious Slave had no sooner heard them, but in spite of all her assurance, a trembling seized her from head to foot. Yet how sweetly was she surprised, when she heard the Praetor say, that the Princess Arsinoe was with her Brother; and when by that Discourse she had reason to judge, that she doubtless was the fair unknown with whom he was found, and to whom he addressed his innocent Caresses, which had caused her so much trouble; and yet the Relation she had heard of the death of that dear Sister, did oppose her hopes, and not knowing what she might expect, with a great deal more tranquillity than before, she left what might befall her to the conduct of the gods. She had neither time nor liberty to express these different thoughts wherewith she felt herself assaulted; and at that very moment the Queen Candace having cast her eyes upon her, to let her know what share she would take in the interest she would have in this Visit, easily observed the agitation of her Soul.  
In the mean time the Princess Elisa having answered Gallus, that these persons which intended to honour her with a Visit, should be very welcome, that the house of Armenia had been long allied to that of Parthia, and for that reason, and for their particular merit, she should be very glad to see a Prince and a Princess, whose death was spread by same throughout all Asia; and as for the Prince of Cilicia, though he had made War against the King her Father, and was a near Kinsman and a Friend to Tigranes' King of the Medes yet the Relation she had heard of his Virtue, should cause her to give him such a reception as was due to him. She had hardly finished this Discourse, when Agrippa entered into the Chamber, leading the Princess Arsinoe by the hand, and with them Ariobarzanes and Philadelph, whose gallant Garb, as well as the admirable Beauty of the Princess, at the first dazzled the eyes of those they came to visit; but their admiration was mutual, and the relation that Philadelph and Ariobarzanes had heard of Elisa's Beauty, was so far below what they found themselves, and what they observed at the very first sight in the fair Queen of Ethiopia, that they could not express their first astonishment but by silence. Their first expressions were in such terms as are ordinary upon such an encounter amongst persons of that quality; and all the Discourses, which a rationally conceived esteem in so few moments could put into their mouths, were uttered with a great deal of grace and civility, by these admirable persons. Arsinoe found in the entertainment of Elisa, and of the fair Queen, that which her rare and excellent qualities acquired her every where, and particularly, amongst persons capable to render without envy and injustice, that which is due to an extraordinary merit; and the virtuous Delia, seeing in the faces of the two Princesses, some things beyond her imagination, expressed her astonishment to them, in such a charming manner, that they could not choose but give her a great share in their affection at this first meeting. They were likswise very well satisfied in the gallant mind of Philadelph, but the Relation they had heard the day before of the brave Actions of Ariobarzanes, having caused them to cast their eyes upon him with haste and attention, they found him far more Comely, and far more Handsome, than Olympia had represented him to them.  
In the mean while that Princess, who to see what passed without being seen, kept herself close in the obscurest part of the Chamber, was ecstasied with an unconceivable joy, and not doubting by the things she saw, but that this fair Princess, who had caused her so much jealousy in so little a time, was the Sister of her wellbeloved Prince, and the same Sister upon whose death she herself had bestowed so many compassionate tears, she undeceived herself of her suspicions so agreeably, that she could hardly comprehend the satisfaction of her Soul; but her contentment was little less, to see sadness painted in the countenance of Ariobarzanes; and observing how that prince, who was of a pleasant and charming humour in Company, carried himself in this with a dejected countenance, and all the marks of a profound Affliction. She sweetly flattered herself with the assurance that the was the cause of it, and she could hardly forbear at that time from running to him with open Arms, and crying out to him, Behold your Olympia; but the presence of so many persons, before whom she durst not use that liberty, kept her in an uncertainty what to do, and made her observe attentively what passed, in expectation of an opportunity to discover herself handsomely to the Prince.  
Candace, in the mean time being not so sad as Elisa, and more capable to interiss herself in another's Affairs, looking upon her from time to time to view her countenance, and to discover part of her thoughts, was resolved to leave her no longer in that condition; and supposing that she should do her no displeasure in freeing herfrom it, she put the Company, who had now ended their Discourses of civility upon the shipwreck of Ariobarzanes, and the Princess his Sister, which had persuaded all Asia to believe their death; and after she had expressed to the Princess the joy she received upon her Account, at the falseness of the Reports, she obliged her to acquaint them in a few wordshow she was preserved from that shipwreck, and to make them a brief Relation, of the obligations she had to Prince Philadelph, and of her most important Adventures. They equally admire in her Discourse the grace of her utterance, and the Adventures which she related; but when she had partly satisfied the curiosity of those that heard her, they turned their eyes all at once upon Ariobarzanes, who knowing what they desired of him: I would make you, said he, a Discourse of my Adventures, which possibly you would find to be very strange, and as surprising at least as my Sisters, if my mind were in the same condition with hers, and if, as she is, Iwere reunited to the thing I love, or if I could only hope to see that person agaio for whom the remainders of this unfortunate life are preserved. O how agreeably did these words sound in Olympia's ears, and how much was she troubled to defer the discovery of herself a few moment's longer: Yet she had the patience to hearken to the rest of Ariobarzanes' Discourse, who stifling some sighs and sobs which had interrupted him; Nevertheless I will not refuse, pursued he, to give you that satisfaction, if you desire it of me; and when this illustrious Company shall give me order, I will acquaint you at large with the story of my misfortunes. You would very much admire, said Candace, interrupting him, If some of this Company should know almost as much as yourself; and should not be ignorant of any particular almost of your love to the Princess Olympia, of your Contests with the King her Brother, of your signal Victories against Merodates, and divers Accidents of your life, which you suppose to be unknown to all the World. Truly Madam, replied the Prince changing colour, I am very much amazed already at what I hear you say, and I did not believe that the report of those things which have befallen me, had reached so far as you. I know, added the Queen, a great deal more than common fame could acquaint me with, and so particularly too, that Olympia herself scarcely knows more. Ah Madad, said the Prince quite transported, In the Name of the gods inform me, who it was that gave you such good intelligence, and give some beginning to the effect of those hopes which I have conceived to find some consolation in Alexandria. I have been conducted hither by an uncertain shadow of hope, conceived upon some words that were spoken by the Barbarians, when they forced my Princess from me; and if it please the gods that I may hear some News of her through your goodness, I shall not despair of their assistance. We learned what we know, replied Candace, from a slave which serves the Princess Elisa; but she speaks of your Affairs in such a manner, that it seems she hath been very much interessed in them. Ah Madam, cried the Prince more transported than before, do not deny me the favour to let me see that Slave, it may be she is one of the Maids of that unfortunate Princess, and only to have the consolation of seeing a person who belonged to her, I would willingly go to the end of the world. You shall not go far to see her, said the Princess Olympia, quitting the place where she was, and coming near to the Company, and if you can but know her, still you will suppose that she can tell you News of Olympia.  
At this tone of voice, and at this sight, the Prince; who was already risen up from his seat to go and look for that Slave, was so stricken with amazement, that he had hardly any sense or knowledge left, and whilst that Philadelph, Arsinoe, Agrippa and Cornelius did likewise express their astonishment at so unexpected an Adventure, Ariobarzanes being immovable and silent; and having in the tone of the Slave observed Olympia's voice, began to seek the features of his Princess in the Slave's face; but her sickness and sorrows had made such a change in Three or four Months which had passed since their separation, that at first he could hardly discern the remainders of that admirable Beauty which he had adored.  
Olympia, who observed his astonishment, and penetrated into his thoughts: I perceive very well, my dear Ariobarzanes, said she, that you wonder you do not find in my face that little Beauty which you loved in Olympia's; but you ought not to be mistaken, seeing her heart and her soul have suffered no change; and recovering all her joy and felicity with you, she will likewise recover that little Beauty which she openly lost for love of you. She had not gnite finished these words, when the Prince, whose mistake was sufficiently cleared, not being able to Master his Transports before a Company that seemed to oblige him to some respect, had cast himself at her feet, and embracing her knees with tears of joy, had his heart so oppressed, that expressing himself only by his Action, he continued a good while longer without being able to speak a word. At last lifting up his eyes to see in that countenance which was so much changed, if it were his wellbeloved Princess; Yea, my Princess, said he, yea, my adorable Olympia, 'tis yourself; and neither the unworthy Habit which you wear, nor the change of your countenance, can any longer conceal you from your faithful Ariamenes. Speaking these few words, and raising himself up again at the Princess' command, he once more fixed his eyes upon her Visage with attention, and observing the leanness and the paleness of it, which rendered it quite different from what it had been a little while before, he could not hinder his affection from forcing some tears into his eyes, and drying them up with one of her fair hands, upon which he imprinted a great many ardent kisses. Ah! my adorable Princess, said he, you have suffered very much and possibly I am the cause of a part of your sufferings. You are the cause of them without doubt, replied the Princess, but 'tis that which makes them dear to me, and will make me love them as long as I live! Alas! answered the passionate Prince, it had been much better that all the troubles should have fallen upon Ariobarzanes, and that his adorable Princess should have been exempted from all the misfortunes which he occasions her. I should think myself very unfortunate indeed, replied Olympia, if I by those mishaps which you represent to me, had not purchased the happiness which hereafter I hope to enjoy with you; and all that have suffered through the cruelty of Adallas, the inhumanity of the Pirates, and the misertes of Servitude, cannot but be very pleasing to me in the recovery of Ariobarzanes.  
The Prince returned an answer to this Discourse, throwing himself once more at her feet, and doubtless their mutual satisfaction would have enlarged itself into a long Conversation, if the persons of the Company who were most interessed in it, had not desired to take their share in their Caresses, as they had done in their Contentment. Arsinoe, as being Ariobarzanes' Sister, and almost as sensible of his Fortune as he could be, ran first to the two Lovers, and casting herself upon Olympia's Neck, What, said she, hugging her betwixt her Arms, Are you then that fair Princess to whom I am obliged for my Brother's life? That Princess so worthy of Ariobarzanes' violent passions, and the same for whom we sail over the Seas, and for whose sake we have visited the shore of Alexandria? But you, Madam, answered Olympia, embracing her with an equal affection to her own, Are you that illustrious Princess, upon whom I bestowed so many tears, without knowing her; and for whom, upon the Relation of your dear Brother, I had conceived so much esteem? Philadelph being strongly interessed in the happiness of Ariobarzanes, whom at that time, next to his Delia, he loved above all the persons in the world, seconded her with a good grace in the expressions of her joy; and when Olympia saw herself at some liberty from the Caresses of those illustrious persons, Cornelius, who understood the Truth of her condition, approaching to her with a great deal of Respect, and a great many marks of confusion: Madam, said he, What punishment will you inflict upon him who hath Treated you as a Slave, and hath carried himself towards you otherwise than he ought to have done towards a Princess of your Birth? I will look upon you, replied Olympia, as a person to whom I am indebted for all my happiness; and if you had not bought and kept this Slave, Olympia possibly had never seen Ariobarzanes. You yourself only, answered Cornelius, aught to be blamed for the unworthy usage you have received; for I could not so much as guests at what I now understand, not without a great deal of confusion. I will never complain, replied the Princess, of the employment you bestowed upon me, in putting me into the service of the fair Princess of the Parthians; and I would willingly have rendered her that out of mine own inclination, which I was obliged to do by the change of my Fortune. You have already had the goodness, said Elisa, to pardon the faults which my ignorance caused me to commit in relation to you, and I hope, continued she, embracing her, that this day of joy and happiness will make you forget all that is past. She ought to pardon you and I, added the Queen of Ethiopia, because we take so great a share in the change of her condition; and I will assure her for us both, that we are as sensible of it, as a most affectionate Sister could be.  
This good Company entertained one another in this manner, and bestowed a great deal of time upon this Adventure; and they could have found matter enough to spend the whole day upon, if they had not believed it to be necessary to give the two Lovers liberty to repair by their Conversation, that which a cruel Absence had made them lose. Arsinoe, as being the Sister of Ariobarzanes, believed that she ought to take the greatest care of Olympia, and to that end she desired to conduct her to the lodging which Cornelius had appointed them, to divest her of her slavish Habit, and to render her the Offices which she might expect from a Sister. Elisa and Candace were forced to yield to the pressing entreaty which she made them to that purpose, and Olympia, who supposed that by the changing of her lodgings, she should not be much farther off from the Princesses, for whom she had a very great affection, nor see them less often than she did before; and was glad besides to entertain her dear Prince with liberty, consented to Arsinoe's desire, and went out of the Palace, telling Cornelius with a smile, that she would not make him lose what he gave for his Slave.  
These four contented persons went to abandon themselves to all the pleasures that their virtuous love could permit, and the sad Elisa, with the troubled Candace, though they took a real share in their joy, could not for all that see them go out of the Chamber in that happy condition, without expressing by some sighs the grief they had in not being satisfied likewise in their own Fortune. The Design of their walk was not interrupted by Olympia's Fortune; and Candace was so far interessed in it, that she did not doubt but that without incivility to Arsinoe and Olympia, they might leave them that day free, and so execute their intention; she likewise thought it not convenient to interrupt them so soon, and having easily caused Elisa to approve of their thoughts, they prepared for their going forth.  
Immediately after they had Dined, the Chariot which was to carry them, and the persons which were to conduct them at a distance, as it was determined, were ready at the Stairs foot; and Candace being urged by her impatience, no sooner saw them appear, but she solicited Elisa that they might be gone; yet they could not make such haste, but that Agrippa and Gornelius, whose love took up the place of all their other cares, were at their Chamber-door when they were going out, and gave them their hands to conduct them into the Chariot.  
Cornelius importuned Candace in that little time, with the continuation of his former Discourses; and Agrippa, who went about it with more reservedness, as not having yet discovered himself, and saw that Elisa carefully deprived him of all means to do it, was willing to make the best use of those moments, to let her know a part of that which he had upon his heart. And to that purpose taking her by the hand, Madam, said he, I render you here a small piece of Service, but I shall not be satisfied with my Fortune, if she doth not give me opportunities of rendering you more important Services. I know very well, replied the Princess, that you are so generous, as not to avoid the occasion of assisting the miserable. And I am at present so miserable myself, answered Agrippa readily, that I shall find no occasion in your Fortune to exercise my Generosity, or at least those Services must not be imputed to my Generosity, which I shall render you upon the Account of a very strong inclinat on. The Princess blushed, and made no Reply to Agrippa's words, who being emboldened by this beginning: I know not, continued he, whether you will approve of the intention which I have to serve you to my Grave; but I will really protest to you, that this passion against which I did in vain descend myself, and which, by reason of its violence, I am forced to declare to you, is not established in my heart, but with all the respects and adorations which are due to your Divine qualities and illustrious Birth: As he made an end of these words, he drew near the Chariot, and that was well for the Princess, who being full of resentment and grief, knew not what answer she might return to a man whose love was troublesome to her, and his merit and authority considerable. There was no Reply made to his Discourse, but he judged by the countenance and action of the Princess, that she was not well pleased with it, and he repented that he had not better remembered Ovid's precepts, who told him a few moments before, that the Declarations of love ought to be prevented by Services.  
When the Princess' Chariot was gone, he said to Cornelius, that seeing they would not give them the liberty to bear them company, they might at least be permitted to take Horse in the Evening, and meet them at their return from their walk. Cornelius was of his mind, and approved of his Proposition, by which he was confirmed in the suspicion which he had already conceived, that Agrippa was taken with the Princess of the Parthians. He was glad that he had such an illustrious Companion in his Destiny, and heartily praised the gods that his inclinations addressed not to Candace, and had not raised him up a Rival, which would have been very formidable to him.  
Agrippa was so blank and dumpish at the success of his first Attempt which he had newly made, that he thought he could not for some hours appear in Company with his ordinary countenance, and for that reason he entreated Cornelius to ease him of some small businesses which he had to do for the Emperor's Service, and to permit him to retire a while into his Chamber, with an intentiod to see no body, till they mounted on Horseback as they had determined.  
Cornelius, being willing to comply with him in all things, accompanied him to his Chamber, where, by chance meeting Ovid, Agrippa would have him excepted from the Design which he had to see no body; and detaining him whilst all the rest retired, he took him with him into his Closet; and knowing very well that in a Love-matter he could not have a confident more capable to counsel and serve him, nor more discreet and affectionate to his interests, he ingenuosly discovered to him all that was upon his heart, and made a naked confession to him of his passion, and of all the thoughts which it had produced in his mind. Ovid, who was never an Enemy to amorous persons, did not oppose Agrippa's love by any Discourse, but contented himself to tell him that he had made an excellent choice; and that this Princess, though a stranger, and born amongst the Enemies of the Roman Name, was certainly very worthy of his affections, and that he had great probability to hope that she would not be insensible of them. He offered him likewise in requital of the confidence he had in him, all the Services he was capable to render him; and did so flatter his passion, that he put him into a good humour, and filled him with hope.  
When Agrippa had a little dispatched the melancholy that had seized on him, of a sudden looking upon Ovid with a pleasant countenance, and throwing his Arm about his Neck: Seeing you are my Confident, said he, 'tis reason that I should be yours too; and I should have great occasion to complain, if you should have less confidence in me, than I would have in you. Ovid having returned an Answer to these words with a great deal of respect, and having told Agrippa that he would make no difficulty to confess all things to him that were worthy of his knowledge. You must then, said Agrippa, not only confess to me that that Corinna so much celebrated in your Elegies, is no other but the Princess Julia; but besides, you must freely and truly tell me all that is passed between that Princess and you, and do not dissemble with a Friend, from whom you need not fear any bad Office for having made this confession to him. Ah Sir, replied Ovid, seeming quite amazed, What opinion have you of me, and since when do you believe that I have forgot the respect which is due to so great a Princess, to Cesar, and to Prince Marcellus? Now you fail in your freedom towards me, answered Agrippa, and I will never receive the distrust you have of me for an effect of discretion. I am a Servant of Cesar's as you know, and a very faithful Friend to Marcellus; but the interest which they have in Julia's affections, shall never oblige me to do you a bad Office; and besides you know, very well, that you possibly are not the only man whom Julia hath looked kindly upon, nor is it for the love of you that she is reported not to have left her heart always entire for Marcellus. To these words, Agrippa added others more pressing, which Ovid not being any longer able to resist; Seeing you enjoin me, said he, I will acquaint you with the truth of some things of very small importance, protesting to you for all that, that as slight as they are, no other command but yours, nor any other consideration but that of obeying you, should ever have drawn them out of my mouth. Agrippa having again confirmed the promise he had made him, not to make any ill use of the confession which he was about to make him, he began his Discourse in this manner.  

The History of Ovid, Cipassis and Julia.  
THey which have reported that in some Elegies which I composed not long since under the Name of Corinna, I meant the Princess Julia, either they intended to do me an ill Office, or else they were unacquainted with my thoughts; I do not speak this Sir, since you have laid your commands upon me, that I desire to disguise any thing in the relation you desire of me; but you will perceive by the real Discourse that I shall make you, that I am not at those terms with that Princess, as to take the boldness to describe such particular privacies, as neither Ovid, nor the greatest Prince in the world durst ever to have hoped for from the Princess Julia. 'Twas only to divert myself that I have published some amorous follies, which either I was never sensible of, or if I did experiment any part of them, 'twas with persons far distant from the eminent degree of Cesar's Daughter, whom I never looked upon but with that veneration which I ought to have for her; and from which her humour, though never so gallant, and free from severity, never ought to give me a dispensation. I will ingenuously relate to you all that passed in all my trivial Affairs, wherein she could have any interest, without any mention of the loves I have had for a great many other Ladies, part of which may possibly have made some noise; and as for the rest, I will make it your divertisement another time, as far as modesty and decency will permit; but what Design soever I have, not to speak of the rest, I am forced to speak of one, without mentioning of whom I cannot come to the Relation you desire of me, since of necessity she must have a good share in it.  
I had long since broken Flavia's and Emilia's Chains, and had so struggled with Sulpicia's, that at last I regained my liberty, when Fortune conducted to Rome the fair stranger Cipassis, whose beauty is known to you, and hath been eminent enough to make itself remarkable in Augustus' Court, and in that City which is Mistress of the Universe. You know that she was born in Germany, from whence she was brought by Tiberius, when he reduced that Country to the obedience of the Empire, and led to Rome with divers other Captives, which followed the Chariot of the Conqueror, and changed their free condition for servitude. As for Cipassis, you know that for her excellent beauty, and livers other qualities that rendered her considerable, Tiberius presented her to Caesar; and the Emperor, after he had expessed how highly he esteemed of her, he gave her to the Princess his daughter. She continued some days amongst the rest of Julia's Slaves, among whom she supported the change of her condition within an admirable patience; but a little after the Princess having observed in that Captive an uncommon beauty and extraordinary graces, raised her above the pitch of other Slaves, placed her near to her person, made her one of her confidents, and treated her with so much sweetness, that the fair Germane applied herself to her Service more diligently, out of inclination, than she did upon the Account of Slavery.  
You know that Julia hath admirable Charms, and such obliging ways of acting when she pleases, and so attractive, that it is impossible to defend one's self from them. In fine, she used them toward Cipassis with so much goodness, that the illustrious Captive being obliged to her for her good usage, and receiving every day greater proofs of her bounty, discovered to her concerning her Birth and Affairs, some things which till then were not known to any person at Rome, and are not yet known but to a few. Howsoever it was, (for this is not it which I am obliged to acquaint you withal in my Relation) the Princess had so much regard to them, that after she had expressed to that stranger how much she was displeased with herself for having left her so long in a servile condition, and having employed her in Offices far below her, she gave her liberty from that day forward, and offered her all the assistances that she could desire of her friendship.  
Cipassis received her liberty of Julia's liberality, and was very joyful that she was no longer treated as a slave, but for all that she would not retire from the Princess' Services, nor return to her Friends, from whom Fortune and the War had separated her; but partly out of the affection which she had conceived for the Princess, and partly it may be for other Reasons which made her not desire to return into her Country, she made it her request that she might stay with her, and did so strongly conjure her to retain her in her Family, that the Princess loving her very well, and having regard to the particular Reasons which Cipassis might allege to her, retained her near her, as she desired, treating her, as she did divers young Ladies of illustrious Birth, and of the most Noble Roman Families, whom Julia's high Rank engaged in her Service.  
From this day forward Cipassis, whom her former condition about the Princess had kept in obscurity, began to be looked upon, and at the same time to discover divers excellent parts which acquired her the esteem and inclination of divers persons of quality. Because I have been more particularly acquainted with her than you, 'tis not inconvenient for me to tell you, that besides those conporal advantages which you have seen in that fair stranger, she hath beauties of the mind which are not ordinary; an admirable vivacity, a facility to express herself with a great deal of grace and eloquence, and a solidity of judgement, which seems to be above her Age and Sex. Her humour is the most pleasant and frolic of all that ever I was acquainted with, and if she were not sensible of some displeasures in her Fortune, which sometimes cloud her natural jollity, she might create joy and divertisement in all places where she comes; and besides, she hath strength of spirit enough to dissemble her discontents in such a manner, that few persons could take notice of them; and I have oftentimes heard her say, that it is a great piece of imprudence, to trouble other persons with our melancholy, who have no interest in it; but desire our Company either for divertisement, or the esteem they have of us.  
Though she was born in Germany, you know she speaks Latin as well as if she had been born at Rome; and together with the Empire of the Romans, their language is so spread through all the Provinces which are under its obedience, that they are now but few of them where it is not understood by all sorts of persons and taught to all the persons of quality. Cipassis being such as I have described her to you, and as you partly know her to be, it was not easy for her to continue long in Rome, without making of herself beloved and respected by a great many persons of quality; and to give every day occasions of it, she could not be better placed, than near the Princess Julia, who was the Centre of all Gallantry, or to express it better, where all the magnificence and bravery amongst the Noble Romans, and the Prince's Tributary to the Empire who continued with Cesar, displayed itself every day with emulation, to comply with that gallant Princess. Her Court was always composed of the beauty and flower of Rome, and 'twas for that reason that Cesar, who did not always approve of her free manner of behaviour, seeing her enter one day into the Amphitheatre, attended by all the young Nobility, at the same time that the Empress came in, sollowed by the Senators, and the most venerable persons, sent to ask her, with a smart kind of raillery, If the Train of grave men that attended Livia, was not more conformable to her Dignity, than the young men which accompanied her? But the Princess was not vexed at this demand, but looking upon those that were about her with a smile, These persons, said she, will be old, when I am so.  
By the indulgence of the greatest persons in the world, I had free access to the Empress, to the Princess Julia, to the virtuous Octavia, and the Princess Cleopatra; and there was no illustrious Family, nor eminent Company at Rome, where they did not do me the favour to let me come; and if I may speak it without vanity, where they did not express a desire of my Company; but as my inclination always carried me to pleasure and divertisements which we may enjoy with honour, rather than to places where others seek occasions of advancing their Affairs; 'Twas without repugnance that I suffered myself easily to be conducted into the Company of the Ladies, and amongst the Ladies, into the Company of the fairest, the most gallant, and the most eminent. I went then almost every day to Caesar's Daughter, and that fair Princess gratified me above my merit, and engaged me more particularly to her Court, than I was to Livia's, Octavia's, Scribonia's, or Cesar's own. Besides, the advantage which I had to be received into her Conversations with other persons of quality which most ordinarily were so; my humour against which by great good luck, no person ever expressed any aversion, and some small advantages which study, and my inclination might afford me above a great many ignorant persons, gave me a more free access than to divers others, into the Chambers of those Maids who were brought up with Julia, and caused them to permit me such liberties sometimes, which they would not have pardoned in other persons.  
'Twas by these particular Visits that I discovered the Treasures locked up in the person of Cipassis, and that which I had not looked upon before, but with that approbation which all the world gave it, having appeared to me upon a more perfect knowledge in all its lustre, engaged me to a more particular attention, and a little after to a greater interest; for in fine, though the beauty of Cipassis be one of the most rare and most accomplished, it did not for all that immediately dazzle those eyes that were accustomed to see the Princess Cleopatra every day; but after I had begun to look upon her▪ with a little more exactness, by little and little, her excellent qualities discovered themselves, & produced that effect which they ought infallibly to do. The sympathy which I thought I found in her humours, added no small weight to turn the scale of my inclination; and 'tis certain, that at last I found her such, that, if by the necessity of her condition, I had not been constrained to seek a remedy in my reason, Cipassis had stopped the course of those wand'ring affections, in which I have not affected over much constancy, because I had found nothing yet that could solidly stay them. She loved all the Sciences, she was very knowing in all the productions of wit, and judged so acutely of them, that she made it evident, that besides an excellent wit, she had had education far above the common sort of her Sex. I discoursed with her several times in the Princess' Court concerning things indifferent, and in the presence of a great many witnesses, and in all things that I heard her say, I observed some part of that which I have lately told you concerning her wit, which insensibly raised a desire in me to seek her Conversation, rather than her Companions. 'Tis certain, that at very first I found some sweetness in it, which made me quickly foresee, that this fair stranger would not be long indifferent to me; and I yielded so easily, and with so much complaisance to the natural inclination which drew me to her, that upon any other score I should not have rendered up myself with so little resistance.  
The first particular Conversation that I had with her, was in the fair Garden of Scribonia, whither she had accompanied the Princess to walk. Besides the Maids of her ordinary Train, divers Roman Ladies waited upon her, and though Sulpicia whom I had loved long time, and had hardly left off loving, was there amongst the rest, left her to the first that took care to lead her, and whilst divers other men of quality tendered the same Service to the rest, I ran to Cipassis, and protested to her, That do what she could, I would not leave her all the rest of that day, nor yield up to any man a Fortune which I infinitely esteemed. Cipassis received the Service which I desired to render, her with a great deal of Civility, and reaching me her hand in a very obliging manner. Is it possible, said she to me, smiling, That in the fairest Company of the World, Ovid should address himself to the stranger Cipassis? But is it possible, answered I, that the fair Cipassis should believe till now, that Ovid had not wit enough to know how to discern that which is most beautiful and rare in those Companies where he comes? 'Tis the knowledge I have of your wit (replied Cipassis, walking in an Alley after the Princess, who was led by Marcellus) which causes my astonishment, and I cannot comprehend how Ovid, whose sublime wit cannot be satisfied with an ordinary Conversation, and whose Company is desired and sought after by the chiefest Ladies in the Empire, should be willing to day to leave so many persons of high importance, to amuse himself in the Company of a dull Germane Maid, born and bred in remote Provinces, in the midst of barbarous people; and one who being freed from Slavery but three days ago, can have contracted nothing in so short a time from the illustrious Company with whom she converses, which may make her Society tolerable.  
Upon these words of Cipassis, which she spoke smiling, I put on a more serious look, and beholding her with an Air which might make her judge, that the modesty of her Discourse could not make me dispense with the respect which I believed was due to her: Madam, said I, for your being born in Germany, and being fallen by the misfortune of the War into a Captivity, from which your virtue quickly freed you, you are never the less considerable, nor less worthy of our respects, than the most illustrious Roman Ladies, and those to whom Fortune hath been always favourable; and whatsoever complaisance I ought to have for my own Country, I shall not think I Injure it, if I speak for that in the single person of Cipassis, which I could have hardly found amongst a great Number of Roman Ladies. Ah! Ovid, said the fair Maid, interrupting me, you are not Master of all that Noble Freedom and Sincerity for which I have heard you highly esteemed; and you offend against Generosity, in exposing a poor stranger, whom you should protect, to the raillery of such a wit as yours. You are so well fortified against raillery, replied I, and I am very well assured, that it is but in a jesting way that you have accued me of it: And how, answered Cipassis, can you justify yourself upon that Account? By making of you know, added I, and making you confess, if you will submit to Reason and Truth, that amongst all the Ladies whom you see here attending upon the Princess, I could not find so much beauty either of mind or body, as in your single self; and that the great Number of excellent parts which might render all the persons of this Company considerable, if they were well divided amongst them, are met together in Cipassis only, with such advantages as the most interested Romans cannot but acknowledge an confess. You would oblige me, replied Cipassis, with a little blush, which made her seem more handsome than ordinary; to give you a serious Answer to a Discourse which deserves it not without doubt, since it is not conformable to your thoughts; but howsoever it be, I cannot choose but tell you, that, if it were true, that you found any thing but reasonable in me, the Authority of such a Judge would raise so much presumption in me, that possibly no modesty would be proof against the vanity which I might conceive upon that score. You may laugh at it if you please, said I, with an Action no more serious than hers, but possibly 'tis true, that I am not so ill acquainted with the lineaments which compose a beauty, nor with the graces which form an excellent wit, but that the judgement which I should make of it, would find Approvers; and 'tis truer yet, that in this which I have made for you, to the disadvantage of this fair Company of Ladies, I have followed nothing but my thoughts and real inclinations. Ah! Ovid, replied Cipassis, in a more pleasing manner than before, If you think what you say, you have forgotten that Sulpicia is in this fair Company. These words, by which I might judge that the love which I had born to Sulcipia was come to the knowledge of Cipassis, made me blush a little, and kept me for a few moments a little surprised; but as naturally I do not want confidence in such Encounters, so I would not remain without a Reply. I am not ignorant, said I, that Sulpicia is in the Number of those fair Ladies over whom I have given you the superiority; Neither are we ignorant, peradventure, said she interrupting me, that you have often given her the same superiority with which you would flatter a poor stranger. That may be, replied I, very coldly, and 'tis certain too, that when I made her a Discourse, coming somewhat near to that which you have heard from my mouth, I made it according to my heart and real thoughts. And how can it be possible, answered the merry Cipassis, that your heart and thoughts should be so easily and so quickly changed, and that (if one may so say) you should so easily transport from one subject to another the qualities which you have observed and esteemed in them? It may be, said I, that when I found in Sulpicia that which now I observe more advantageously in you, I had never seen the charming Cipassis; or that possibly my mind being prepossessed with some passion for Sulpicia, thought to find that in her, which in a more free condition I should not have taken notice of. But how is it possible, added Cipassis, that that passion which hath made you judge favourably of Sulpicia, should quit your heart in such a manner, as that no sign of it should remain? And what remedy do you make use of, to cure yourself so easily of a disease which troubles a great many others as long as they live?  
I was little confounded at this reproach, but I dissembled it very well, and replied without being moved: Love may make itself Master of our spirits with such an absolute Command, that it would be but vain to make use of any remedies to chase it thence: but likewise it may continue in such terms, that reason may have strength enough left to struggle with it; and I may say without injuring Sulpicia 's merit, that if my passion had attained to that extremity, when all the endeavours which are used for the cure of it oftentimes prove senseless, and to which I might have come, if with a little goodness she would have sweetened the weightiness of my Chains, I might without doubt have rendered up my last breath in Sulpicia 's Service; but the rigours and scorns of that fair Lady, having stopped my passion in the midst of its course, 'tis no great wonder if I have opposed it with more success than I could have done, if by a little indulgence Sulpicia had permitted it to come to its full strength. You speak, answered Cipassis, with more modesty than truth, and by this Discourse you rather, show your Discretion, than excuse your Inconstancy; for indeed 'tis not reported in Court, that the ill usage of Sulpicia hath made you quit her Service. But if it please you to let me ask you a question, it may be with too much liberty, I pray you tell me sincerely, what assurance you will give to those persons whom you shall love for the future, to persuade them that you will be more faithful to them, than you have been to Sulpicia, and the rest that went before her? They, said I, who are of an inferior merit, can hardly assure themselves upon that Account, what protestations soever are made them, but they which are so accomplished as Cipassis is, have no need of any other assurance to engage a Soul to an eternal Fidelity, than what they carry in themselves, in regard of their beauty and other qualities which fix a Soul till death.  
Cipassis was a little troubled at these words, and kept silence a few moments, as if she had been at a loss how to receive this Discourse; but a little after she recomposed herself, and resuming the Discourse in a little more serious manner than before: I did not think to be brought in myself upon this Discourse, said she, but I have drawn that which is happened upon myself, and I have pressed you with indiscretion enough to deserve this Attack. I thought by this Answer, that I had displeased her, and I was preparing to make an Apology, when the Princess Julia, who turned at the end of the Alley, came close to us, and called us both to her, to participate in the Conversation which she had with Marcellus, Drusus, young Ptolemy, and some Roman Ladies. The rest of that day I could not speak to Cipassis in particular; but by all her Actions, she expressed that she was not angry with me, and that she had too solid, and too rational a spirit to amuse herself with those things, with which those which are weaker suffer themselves to be disturbed.  
I confess, that since that day, I did not look upon her, as upon another person; or rather that I began to love her, and I continued afterward entangling myself so, in the Charms of that fair stranger, that almost before I perceived it, I was become really amorous, and amorous with so much violence, as to be sensible of all the inquietudes that love makes us suffer, when it hath gotten the absolute Sovereignty over our Soul. 'Tis certain, that I entertained this love with a great deal of complacency, and of all the reasons which I had to oppose it (which were not a few, considering the condition that Cipassis was in) I did not call in one to my assistance. I saw her every day with a great deal of liberty, and Julia's house not being a house of constraint and severity, I did not fear displeasing of the Princess. By the frequent Visits which I might render to the persons that were about her, in all the Conversations I had with that Maid, I discovered new graces in her spirit; and though she was naturally full of jollity and freedom, yet she had so much reservedness and modesty, and made it evident by so many Testimonies, that her virtue was most sublime, that I conceived no less respect than love for her. This was that which made me endure a little, and hindered me for some days from discovering my love unto her, out of the fear I had to displease her. 'Twas not my custom long to conceal what I had upon my heart, but I wont to discover my disease as soon as I was sensible of it, so that this constraint which I laid upon myself for a small time, made itself observed in my person, altered my humour, and made a little change in my countenance. I became more dumpish and melancholy than ordinary, and my Friends oftentimes asked me the cause of it, and Cipassis herself questioned me divers times about the change of my humour. 'Twas thereupon that I took the occasion to declare my disease, but it was in a very pleasant and extraordinary manner. I was one day in her Chamber with none but herself and the Maids that served her; and after we had had some Discourse together, by which she was confirmed in the knowledge she had of my melancholy, which was so much the more remarkable, because that naturally I had a spirit very much distant from it: But is it possible, said she, that Ovid's good humour, in the loss whereof the whole Court doth interess itself, should be always buried in griefs and cares, which render him hardly to be known; and if his good Friends cannot remedy them will there be never a one at all in whom he will have so much confidence as to declare the cause of them? I answered these words with a sigh which I could not retain, and a look which might partly have acquainted her with that which she demanded of me, if she would have taken notice; but seeing that she did not, and that she still expressed a desire to understand the real cause of those cares that tormented me, and so much altered me, I rose upon a sudden from the place where I sat near her, and went to her Table, where I saw Pen, Ink and Paper, whereupon I began to write what came into my fancy.  
She loving Poetry very well, and knowing the facility I had that way, had oftentimes obliged me to make Verses ex tempore, upon such Subjects as presented themselves; and this time seeing me take the pen in hand, she believed it was with an intention to compose somewhat, and rising from her Seat, she came, and standing behind me, she read over my shoulder that which I wrote. She presently saw that she was not deceived in her conjecture, and that I was really writing these Verses which she read at the same time.  
If the sad Effects of Care  
In my Face Impression make,  
Which my Sufferings doth declare,  
I made a stop at the Third Verse, as if I were to seek for a Fourth, and I stayed so long about it, that Cipassis, who knew very well, that naturally I was not so slow in composing, desiring to see the conclusion of that which a little whetted her Curiosity: Finish, said she, what you have so well begun. I will finish it then, said I, seeing it is your pleasure; and taking the Pen, I added,  'Tis for fair Cipassis sake. 
These last words completed the Stanza, and having nothing else to write, I rose from the place where I sat, and turning myself towards Cipassis, though with a little fear and confusion, I perceived that she was a little troubled at this adventure, but yet in such a manner, that her astonishment did not seem to be accompanied with any mark of anger; and not being willing to give her time to be angry, upon the occasion which I might have given her: Divine Cipassis, said I, in the Name of the gods do not receive with rigour the testimony which I give you of a most pure and innocent passion; and do not impute to any want of respect the Declaration which I have made you, only out of the obedience I owe to you: The gods are my witnesses, that the passion I have for you, produces no effect that you can condemn; and the most violent desires it can give Birth to in my Soul, are only to sacrifice my life and interests in the opportunities of doing you Service, as I have already sacrificed my repose, my liberty, and all the thoughts of my Soul to the Beauty and Virtue of Cipassis. If you be offended with the present I make you of myself, what can henceforward be accounted for an obligation amongst men, and by what cruel error will the reward of hatred be bestowed upon love, and those punishments inflicted upon that which should be worthy of more precious recompenses?  
I should have spoken more to this purpose, if instead of the displeasure which I feared, I had not seen laughter, sweetness and absolute tranquillity in the countenance of Cipassis. She had harkened to me with a great deal of patience, and when she saw that I left speaking: I understand your intentions, said she, smiling, but how do you think I must treat with you? As the Sovereign Mistress of my life, replied I, but as a Sovereign full of goodness, and one that ought to incline rather to pity, than to resentment. But ought not I, answered Cipassis, according to the example of our own Sex, seem offended at the Declaration you have made me, receive your affection as an injury, and forbid you at least to speak to me as long as you live?  
I have deserved a great deal more, replied I, and I will never, murmur at the sentence which you shall pronounce against me, You shall have no reason, added this charming person, and instead of making as if I were angry at the testimonies of your affection, I will tell you, Ovid, that it is very dear to me, that I am very much obliged to you for it, and do not count it a small advantage to myself, that he, amongst all the Romans, who possibly is, most able to discern the merit of persons, hath adjudged me worthy, amongst so many others, of his particular esteem: I shall be beholding to you for it as long as I live; but this is not enough yet to acknowledge it as I ought, I will protest to you besides, with all truth and freedom, that I do very particularly esteem your person; and upon all the occasions which Fortune may offer me, I will give you all the testimonies of it that you can desire. Is not this a large progress for the first day? Too much, cried I, quite transported, and infinitely above my merit and my hopes. But withal, replied Cipassis, know, that this first day shall be as the last, you shall always continue in the same condition in my affection as you are now in, and whatsoever you may do for my Service, shall never put you any forwarder. If you be rational, you will content yourself with that which possibly you expected not yet a while, and which I did not value so highly, as to make you wait longer for; and if you have not reason enough to satisfy yourself with what I may do in a way of acknowledging your affection, you may seek elsewhere for that satisfection which you shall never find in Cipassis.  
These last words did strongly moderate the joy which the former had caused me, and seeing myself cut off from the hopes which I might have conceived by her words, to which I was obliged to give absolute Credit, by the proofs which I received of her sincerity and freedom, I knew not how I might receive my Fortune; but at last yielding to Necessity, or rather preserving still some hopes, that by my Services, and the proof of an ardent and faithful passion, I might alter the resolution of Cipassis, and incline her spirit to more advantageous terms in relation to my love, I seemed to be contented, and to receive the courtesy she offered me, as infinitely elevated above my pretensions.  
Agippa interrupting Ovid in this part of his Narration: You have related to me, said he, as free, and as gallant a way of proceeding, as could be expected from the most rational spirit in the world; and though I always did very much esteem the fair Cipassis, I confess to you, that for her manner of dealing so far from the artifice and affectation of many women, I conceive an opinion of her, which will make me look upon her for the future, with more consideration than formerly I did. Sir, replied Ovid, Cipassis is far more worthy of your esteem than you think for; and without doubt she would have a very great share in it, if she were perfectly known to you; but it will suffice me to confirm you in the opinion which you have conceived of her, to acquaint you in the continuation of my Discourse, that this fair Germane proved very sincere in the promise she had made me, to gratify me with her particular esteem, and that in all meeting, I received all the testimonies of it that I could in reason desire; but withal, she kept herself very strictly within the bounds which she had prescribed to my hopes, and did not suffer me to conceive the least probability of altering her resolution. She always kept herself so equal in her Proposition, that I never perceived any change; and I endeavoured in vain to move her to pity, or to a consideration of the ills she made me suffer, she was always insensible of them; or if at any time out of her natural goodness, she felt any motion of compassion, that thought could not change its Nature, and turn from pity, which was the original of it, into something that resembled love. She suffered me to converse with her with a great deal of sweetness, provided that the violences of my love did not intermix themselves in our Discourse; and when I suffered myself to fly out, she knew very well how to reduce me to that moderation which she desired of me, and to make me submit to the Empire of reason, with an Authority accompanied with so much sweetness and modesty, that I never sound any occasion, nor had so much as an intention to murmur at it. My great consolation in the misfortune which I had to be deep in love, without any hope of being recompensed, but only with goodwill, was, that amongst divers of the most illustrious Romans, whom her beauty had reduced into the same condition with myself, and who sighed deeply for her, there was none a greater Favourite than myself, and she made no difficulty to declare publicly how much she preferred me before all the rest; or rather, though she treated them with all civility and handsomeness, I was the only man by whom she seemed not to be importuned. You know there have been some discontents about the advantage I had over them, and the young Albinus and I, had like to have had a great bustling upon that quarrel, if our difference had not been decided by the Authority of the Princess Julia, and of Cipassis herself, whom, only at that time, I saw so angry with me, that I had much ado to appease her.  
In fine, seeing that my passion stopped not at those bounds where she would have it stay, and fearing that in time it might grow so strong as to be troublesome to her, and to render me miserable, she desired to apply the remedy she believed she had, either to cure me, or to hinder the augmentation of my disease; and upon this Design, seeing me by her one day more sad and languishing than ordinary, Ovid, said she, The obligation I have to you for your good will, and the esteem I make of your merit, ought not to permit me any longer to leave you in the opinion which without doubt you have that you may complain of me, and that with reason: And 'tis just that I should acquaint you, that if I be not so sensible of the proofs of your affection as you might desire, 'tis not for default of any of those parts which compose a man worthy of esteem, but for such reasons as certainly you yourself will not oppose, when they are known to you. Upon this Design I will acquaint you with my Fortune, which hitherto you have been ignorant of, I having declared it to none, but to the Princess Julia, and desiring that no body in Rome may know it but yourself. I have confidence enough now in your virtue and friendship to believe that you will make a right use of the secret which I trust you with, and that when you shall find in my Discourse some things contrary to the interest which you have taken in my person, you will conquer it by your Generosity; and instead of taking occasions thence to do me a displeasure, you will seek for opportunities to comfort me in my misfortunes. I was extraordinarily moved at this Discourse of Cipassis, and desiring to confirm her in the confidence she had in me: You may be very well assured, said I, that I will not abuse the favour you are pleased to do me; and though possibly I might find my death in your Discourse, I shall certainly suffer the most cruel one that can present itself, rather than betray the secret you would trust me with, or neglect any occasion of serving you in a condition that 'tis possible for me to meet you in. I hoped no less, replied Cipassis, and you shall know further by the Discourse I have to make you, that I have no small confidence in you. Upon these words, after she had given order that she might not be interrupted, she acquainted me with her Birth, with the Story of her whole life, and with things of such importance, that the Relation of them would be far more handsome, and more agreeable to you, than that I have to make you, if I were permitted to repeat them to you. But Sir, I am forbidden to do it, and I beseech you pardon me, if I do not speak one word more to you of it in the Sequel of my Discourse. You strongly move my Curiosity, said Agrippa to Ovid, and you have sufficiently interessed me in the Fortune of Cipassis, to make me desire a more particular knowledge of it; but I am not ignorant to what you are obliged by your word, and I would not exact any thing of my Friends, which they cannot grant me without injuring themselves. I will make no difficulty, Sir, replied Ovid, to trust you with any secret of my own, whensoever you shall desire to know it; but as for that which concerns another person, and a person whom I infinitely esteem, you know I have not the same liberty. In fine pursued Ovid, Cipassis acquainted me with such things as caused my astonishment, and if they were not capable to give an immediate cure to my love, at least they made me know, that there was no more ground of hope upon that Account, and that I never ought to importune her who was the original of it, to that purpose. I was assaulted with a violent grief, but with a little strength of spirit I found very considerable grounds of comfort in my misfortune, and I understood very well, that instead of having any reason to complain of Cipassis, I was obliged as long as I lived, to commend the goodness which she had expressed to me in a condition of Fortune, when I ought not to have desired those proofs I received of it. I fell upon my knees before her, when she had made an end of her Relation, and with a great many marks of sorrow, I begged her pardon for the trouble I had put her to, and protested to her, That if it were not possible, to cure my mind of that passion, against which it could not defend itself, I would regulate it, or manage it so at least, that she should receive no proof of it that might displease her. Cipassis signified to me with her ordinary sweetness, that the testimonies of my good will could never be disagreeable to her; that she desired me only, if it were possible, to discard that part of of my passion which was most violent, and most contrary to my repose, and to reduce it to a more rational Amity; and that now she had acquained me with her condition, I would content myself with that satisfaction which she could give me; as for the rest, she would be willing that I should converse with her before Company, as I was used to do; and that neither by my Actions, nor my Discourse, I should make any discovery of what she had declared to me.  
I promised her all that she required, and executed it as punctually as it was possible for me to do, endeavouring to forbear speaking to her of my love, which had likely to have caused me a great deal of mischief, and often made her pity me; but if it chanced through want of circumspection, that some word slipped from me contrary to my intention, Cipassis did not want indulgence to compassionate my weakness, and to signify to me, that the greatest displeasure she could receive by the continuation of my love, was, for the harm I suffered by it, and not for the trouble it was to her. Mean time by her counsel, and for the interest of my own repose, I sought for all the remedies that could be imagined to cure me of my passion: I endeavoured by the sight of other objects, to free my memory from this persecuting thought, which was continually fixed there; and I did not only frequent those Companies where I formerly found divertisements, but I Courted all occasions to give birth to a new affection which might extude that which tormented me, and laid such cruel constraints upon my happiness.  
'Twas no easy matter to expel the Idea of Cipassis out of my Soul, and it had made such an impression upon me, that certainly whatsoever inclination I might have had to change, I should have loved that fair stranger as long as I had lived, if I had not met with obstacles in that Design which could not be removed, and against which I could preserve no hope. But yet 'tis very true, that by the continual endeavours I used, and the firm resolution I had taken, I conquered the greatest violences of my disease, and hoped in time for an absolute cure of it. It fell out sooner than I believed, and proceeded from a place whence I expected it not, and this is that which you desire of me, and whereof I am going to make you an ingennous Relation.  
The desire I had absolutely to rid my Soul of this importunate passion, made me more assiduous than before at the apartment of the Princess Julia; and the multitude of different persons which I saw there every day, was no small help to the cure which I sought for. I was there one Night with a great many other persons, and Cipassis was there too, the Princess entertained her a while in private, and a little after walking through the Chamber, she came near to the place where I was, and having obliged by her Action, those with whom I discoursed to leave me alone with her: Ovid said the, I am jealous of the Amity that Cipassis hath for you, and she hath acquainted you with things which I thought she would not have trusted any with but myself. Madam, answered I, I will make no ill use of the secret which Cipassis hath committed to me; and if I were able to serve her in her Affairs, I am assured that she would never repent her of the confidence she hath reposed in me. We are sufficiently acquainted with you, replied the Princess, to have that opinion of you, but I would have you know too, continued she smiling, that you are obliged to me, and aught to thank me for the interest I took in the bad success of your last affections. I was not so happy in my former, said I, as to hope that Fortune would be more favourable to me in the rest; but howsoever it be, I am not absolutely miserable in my misfortunes, if I have been so happy as to deserve the pity of our great Princess. I did really pity you, replied Julia, though in some sort you merited your distiny, by bestowing that to no purpose upon a stranger, which with more success and satisfaction to yourself, you might offer to the fairest, and the most sublime amongst the Roman Ladies.  
I received the Princess' Discourse with a prosound respect, and humbling myself, as my Duty was: I am not so blind, said I, as to be jested out of the knowledge I ought to have of myself; and that which is most fair, and most sublime in Rome, cannot condescend so low as Ovid: Remember, added Julia with precipitation, the Heroical Epistle of Shafalus to Aurora, which you showed me a few days since, and judge by that, that extraordinary men may elevate their thoughts as high as the goddesses themselves. Finishing these words with that Air and admirable grace which she hath in all her Actions, she left me at liberty to examine the words she had spoken to me, and went to the other side of the Chamber to entertain the young Drusus, who began at that time to give her secret Testimonies of that passion, which a while after publicly declared itself.  
When I was retired to my own private lodging, I made a long reflection upon Julia's words; and the inclinations we naturally have to flatter ourselves, made them seem very obliging to me, and persuaded me that they were not spoken without some Design. Could it be possible, said I in myself, that Julia the greatest Princess in the World, designed for the Empire of the Universe, and as highly elevated by her beauty, and the Charms of her person, as by the advantages of her birth, should desire, amongst the great Number of her daily Conquests, to reckon the Conquest of poor Ovid? Or rather, that amongst so many Kings and Princes of the most eminent rank in the World, which are upon their knees in continual Adoration of her, she should turn her eyes from the lustre of their Diadems, to let them fall so low as Ovid? Remember, said he, that extraordinary men may raise their thoughts as high as the goddesses themselves. I have not so much presumption as to believe that I am a man extraordinary, neither have I so bad an opinion of myself, as to think myself a vulgar person; but in fine, whatever I am, I am certain that the words were addressed to me, and that the Princess spoke them to me in the conclusion of a Discourse, which doth not a little confirm me in the opinion which I might conceive thereupon. I added to this consideration, the memory of divers other Actions, by which Julia had always expressed a particular esteem to me; and at last I reflected upon the knowledge I had of her humour, which was an Enemy to cruelty and to constraint. I was not ignorant, that though she was engaged to Marcellus by an ancient inclination, grounded upon the merits of that Prince who was very worthy of her affections, and upon the Emperors will, who designed Julia, and the Empire for him, yet she had not observed an exact fidelity to that Prince, but had often given him cause to fall into Jealousy; and I observed at last, that if she did not really engage herself to divers amiable persons who made love to her, yet she was well pleased tobe beloved by them, and did not punish the Declarations of their love with any rigorous usage which might drive a lover to Despair. 'Twas in the Number of these that I thought I might list myself, after I had mustered up all that might persuade me to my advantage to confirm myself in that opinion. I believed then after I had sufficiently flattered myself, not that Julia loved me, but that she would not be offended to see me amongst the great Number of her Adorers; and knowing that I was well acquainted with love, and had a particular Talon to manage it better than vulgar persons, she was willing that all that I could think or conceive of that passion, which ordinarily produces the most refined and delicate thoughts, should have the divine beauties of Julia, for the most eminent aim that I could choose. The thought of being looked upon by that fair and great Princess for any reason whatsoever, did at first agreeably tickle my conceit, and gave me no slight blow to the persecuting remembrance of Cipassis' beauties; I was puffed up with a kind of pride, which made me judge, that the least expressions of Julias goodwill, were able to comfort me for the repulse I received in the passion I had conceived for that fair stranger; and having not only a good opinion of myself, but some courage too, I resolved to pursue my Fortune, and to try if it could be possible that I should find any place in the Princess' esteem.  
'Twas not without a very great violence, that I resolved to attempt the breaking of Cipassis Chains; but besides that, that passion was not grounded upon any hope which might authorise the continuance of it, I knew that instead of offending Cipassis, I should do her a pleasure, in freeing her from my importunities; and that she would not take it ill at my hands, that I had expedited my cure by all possible means, nor that I had sought it in the sublimest place that I could propose to myself. I had no sooner determined what to do, but I felt myself half cured of my former passion; so true is it, that in love, as in distempers of another nature, Afirm resolution is a good part of the remedy. Then I began to meditate in what manner I should proceed with Julia, to let her understand, that her obliging expressions had elevated my Ambition; and thought I was no Puny in all the procedures of love, having by long practice gained a great experience in them, yet my love had never aspired so high; and there was a necessity that I should carry myself after another manner towards such a person as Julia was, than I had done towards the other Roman Ladies, upon whom I had formerly bestowed my inclinations.  
I see Sir, you cannot but smile at the little solidity there was in my pertensions, and you will ask of me, what aim my intentions could have in loving (and that with Design rather than out of a violent inclination, wherewith I might have been prepossessed) the Daughter of Cesar designed for Marcellus, who was one day to enjoy the Empire and her too, and from whom I could never hope any solid Affection: But to this I will answer you; First, That in Affairs of this Nature, I scarcely ever made reason Umpire in my deliberations; but without sounding the depth of Consequences, I sought my present satisfaction, when I could compass it without the hazard of my honour. And then let me tell you, that never having had any Design of marriage for those persons who were of mine own Rank, and by a far stronger reason not having folly enough to look upon Julia with that thought, 'twas indifferent to me, in relation to the end I aimed at, whether she were designed for Mercellus, or absolutely married to him: And in fine, never having loved, but to make myself beloved if it were possible, I might endeavour to make myself beloved by Julia; and in what condition soever she should be, the smallest Testimonies of her Affection could not be very advantagions to me.  
He that will, may laugh at this manner of loving, but I will maintain, that 'tis the only way that can be conformable to a real love, and that those persons who seek for securities and precautions in love, and do embark in't that passion, till they have foreseen the Consesequences, and the advantageous successes of it, may be termed prudent, but not amorous; and engaged in a Design, but not abandoned to love. This Noble Passion admits not Philosophy into its Counsels; and 'tis to such as Demetrius and Anthony, and not to such as Photion and Cato that it is ordinarily addressed. My Soul hath always been more addicted to honest pleasure, than too severe a prudence; and 'tis that which hath rendered me more inclinable to love, and much more expert in it, than a temperate Numa, or a sullen Fabricius.  
But to return to my Discourse, I will tell you that my spirit being already filled with the Ideas of Julia, which did agreeably flatter it, laboured to find out some gallant and extraordinary way to discover my audacious thoughts, and to let her understand, that I wanted not Courage to raise them as high as any scope would be given to my Ambition; but I had no need to torment myself much for a thing which she herself did facilitate, and three days were not yet past since our last Conversation, when seeing me one Evening in her Chamber (where, as you know, the greatest part of the Court do ordinarily pass the Evenings) and observing that I was retired alone into a Corner, with a pensive and melancholy Countenance, which was not ordinary with me, when my spirit was at liberty, she came from her place, as she had done the time before, and after she had taken two or three turns about the Chamber, and spoken some words as she passed by, to two or three persons, to the end that it might not be observed by her Action, that she had any particular Design, she drew near to me, and accosting me with her usual Charms: Well Ovid! said she, Will you not confess to me, that you are now a thinking up on Cipassis? No, Madam, answered I, and if you command me to confess the Truth, I may say, that I do no longer dream of mortals, but elevate my thoughts as high as the goddesses themselves. Julia smiled at this Discourse, and looking upon me with an eye that had nothing of severity in it: Then you have thought, said she, and reflected upon the Counsels which I gave you. I have so meditated upon them, replied I, that they have not been out of my memory for a moment; and I confess, that if it were as easy for me to render myself one of those extraordinary persons whom you permit to look upon Divinities, as to have an inclination to raise my thoughts to them, I would never dream any more upon terrestrial things. 'Tis no difficult matter, answered Julia, for you to believe yourself to be an extraordinary man; and you are endued with such uncommon qualities, that they who should take you for an ordinary person, would be thought to want common sense themselves. Upon this assurance, said I, I will gloriously venture to present my offerings, and turn my eyes from all that is inferior amongst men, to sacrifice my Vows and Adorations to a great goddess. I know not what my Destiny will be, but though it should be parallel to that of the audacious Ixion, a famous and illustrious Tomb is to be preferred before Crowns; and if a man must perish by fall, 'tis better fall from Heaven, than from an ordinary Precipice. You have less reason, added the Princess in a merry fashion, to doubt of your destiny, than another man who is less acquainted with the nature of goddesses than yourself, and by the ordinary communication you have with them, you know that some of them are terrible, and some of them are of a sweeter disposition. Minerva presents her Gorgon's Head to her lovers, Diana receives them with her Bow ready bent, and Juno armsher self against them with her Husband's Thunderbolts; but Aurora, Thetis, and the Cyprian goddess, as you have taught us, are not so cruel to them; and we do not read that Shafalus, Peleus or Adonis found their Graves in the rigour of those goddesses they looked upon, as Ixion and Actaeon did.  
In brief, having made me perfectly bold by the encouragement she gave me: And the goddess Julia, said I, for without an Error, we cannot hold her for any thing else but a goddess, seeing her original, her wit, and her Divine beauties are wholly Celestial; and she beholds nothing amongst men, but what is as much below her, as Earth is below Heaven: The goddess Julia, I say, to whom all humane persons owe their humble and devout sacrifices, which side will she choose, either of the goddesses who are sensible of pity, or of the terrible goddesses? Julia broke out into a hearty laughter at this Discourse, and not intending to leave it thus: The goddess Julia, said she, since you are pleased to make her a goddess, is not a thundering goddess like to Juno, nor an armed goddess like to Minerva, nor a horned goddess like to Diana; neither doth she approve of the pity of Venus, because it transcends the bounds which she would prescribe to hers: but she doth not condemn the pity of Thetis and Aurora, neither doth she believe that the Divinities whose justice should be equal to their power, could justly punish respectful Adorations as things criminal. Since it is so, added I, and that our visible Divinity doth not account our Adorations for Crimes, I make a Vow at the foot of her Sacred Altars, to offer to my last breath my humble sacrifices to the goddess Julia, acknowledging her as our real goddess; by all the marks, and by all the advantages which may exempt her from the rank of mortal persons. Julia continued a while without making any Reply to this Discourse, but a little after beginning to speak with as pleasant a countenance as before: You are not very wise, said she; but Follies of this Nature do not deserve any great Chastisements, and it may be I have Indulgence enough not to look upon them with Rigour. Having spoken these words she left me, but not before she had assured me by her looks, that I had not offended her, and that she would not Treat me as a Criminal, though I should continue what I had begun. For my part, I remained so well satisfied, that I could hardly contain my joy; and the persons with whom I conversed afterwards, might very well perceive the change of my humour.  
When the Princess had given good-night to the Company, I reconducted Cipassis to her Chamber, as I often did; and she, who naturally is of the best humours in the world, having observed Julia's Action, and the change of my humour, and by divers conjectures having, some days since, taken notice of some part of what had passed in my Soul, could not choose but laugh when she looked earnestly upon me, and by her Action she almost put me out of countenance. When we were come to her Chamber, where she permitted me to stay a few moments longer; Well, said she, in a foolish manner, Is it not true, that great gods do expunge small evils, and that a great Fortune may easily comfort one for a mishap of small importance? This Discourse made me blush a little, but though I had an absolute confidence in the goodness and discretion of Cipassis, yet not thinking it convenient to speak of things which in respect of Julia's Dignity ought to be so precious to me as to be kept secret; and believing that Cipassis did not so much desire it, I would not presently open my heart to her upon that Subject, but answering her with Dissimulation: I know not, said I, what you mean, when you talk of great good, and great Fortune; but Heaven is my witness, that I never knew any more high, or more real, in relation to myself, than to spend the remainder of my days in your Service; and setting aside those impossibilities which you have opposed me with, wherein I can only complain of my own Destiny, there is no Fortune nor Dignity in the world which I would not have despised for that glorious Servitude. In this I spoke to Cipassis according to my heart, and though Julia (besides the other advantages which she hath above all other Princesses upon Earth) amongst all the persons that ever I saw in my life, did only fall short in beauty of the Princess Cleopatra; yet 'twas certain for all that, that as fair, as charming, and as high in Dignity as she was, she should never have made me forget Cipassis, if the real passion, and the real esteem which I had for that virtuous person could have found that acknowledgement at her hands which I desired. She smiled again at my dissembled Discourse, and resuming her own; I do not speak to you in this matter, said she, to draw a secret out of your mouth which you ought to preserve with respect; and possibly I should not be very proper for a confidence of that nature; but let me tell you, that by the interest which a real esteem makes me take in all that concerns you, I have already perceived, that you are well thought of in a very good place; and, provided that the consequences which you can perceive better than I, do not prove prejudicial to you, I shall always take a great share in your satisfaction, without desiring any more particular knowledge of it. Madam, replied I, after I have confirmed the Discourse I have made you, I will confess to you, that I have an intention to do what I can possibly, to find out some consolation for the misfortune I have had in relation to you; upon this Design, I follow the Counsel which you have oftentimes given me, and certainly I do you service in easing you of some part of the importunities which you suffer from this miserable man; but wheresoever I may seek either for my comforts or my remedies, I promise you it shall be in a place so high, that I shall not blush at the diversion of my thoughts, nor do any injury to those I have had for Cipassis. After this Discourse, and some other words to this purpose, time and decency obliged me to bid her good-night, and to go and employ myself in my Bed, instead of sleeping, with a Meditation upon this day's Adventure, which kept me awake till the day following.  
I will not repeat to you all the Discourses I made within myself upon these new agitations of my Soul, nor the projects I framed upon the opinion of my good Fortune; but will only acquaint you, that neither the disproportion which is between the Daughter of Caesar and myself, nor the small hope I could conceive in my imaginations, could hinder me from falling into a very strong passion. It will not be difficult to persuade you to believe it, because you are acquainted with Julia, and you know that she is really Mistress of such Charms, as the most Stoical Doctrine can hardly defend a Soul against. Besides, it seemed to me, that she had endeavoured to draw me on, and 'tis such a pleasure upon occasions of this Nature, to see one's self a little flattered, and to see the way open to be received to a happiness and glory which could not be too dearly bought by the greatest sufferings, that there are but few spirits which would not be easily taken with that seducing bait. In fine (if Ovid may be permitted to speak so of the Emperor's Daughter) I was really amorous of the beauties of the Princess Julia, and I began to render her my submissions and particular Vows with a great deal of assiduity.  
It was not difficult for me to Court her, having for a long time had very free access to her, and besides, she had the goodness to bear with me, and to invite me herself into her Company, where I lost no occasion (yet without losing the respect and acknowledgement that was due to her) to discover to her the condition of my Soul, and the passionate veneration I had for her, in the most handsome manner that possibly I could. She always received the Testimonies of it without any mark of displeasure or repugnance, and her indulgence embolding me, made me sometimes transcend the bounds of prudence and circumspection, and do such things to persuade the Princess to believe the reality of my passion, as might have discovered it to other persons, if they had taken the pains to observe them: This ordinarily falls out in the birth of an affection, and when there is no settled intelligence between the lover, and the person beloved, passion transgressing the bounds of discretion and good conduct, oftentimes declares itself by too manifest Testimonies, and by such proofs, as without doubt the lover condemns, and would willingly recall in a better condition of Fortune.  
Julia, who perceived that I might commit some fault, was willing fairly to prevent it, and taking her time with her ordinary gallantry one day when she passed through the Gallery, where I was with divers other persons, she called me, and when I came to her, she said to me in my ear: Ovid's Goodness doth not condemn his Adorations; but 'tis necessary they should be secret, and 'tis not from Ovid that she is permitted to receive them in public. She passed by without any further stay after she had spoken these words, and I remained in a very great confusion, to think how I had given her occasion to use those expressions to me, by which I might well judge, that by some indiscreet Action I had declared my thoughts more than I should have done. I was really ashamed, that I had obliged her to give me a kind of a Reproof; but on the other side, I conceived a better opinion of my Fortune, judging that the Princess took some interest, and laid some ground in my passion, since she ordered me to keep it secret; and that she would not have taken that care, which signified a good beginning of intelligence, if she had not had some esteem of it, and had not desired that it might continue. I did not fail to assist myself in this Encounter with all that might flatter me, and yet I was minded to ask pardon of Julia for the faults which my passion might have caused me to commit contrary to Discretion; and having a facility to express myself in verse, as freely as in Prose, and the Princess likewise having a great inclination to Poetry, and I being furnished with a conveniency to present to her every day any thing I wrote, without any opposition; and being permitted in this kind of writing to take greater liberty to discover my thoughts, than in our ordinary language, when I was retired into my Study, I instantly composed an Elegy, by which I excused myself to the Princess for the faults I had imprudently committed, & imputed them to that violent passion which she had given birth unto, which I exaggerated to her in the most tender and most passionate terms, that all my Poetry could furnish me withal. I will not repeat it to you, because it is too long, and you may have a sight of it when you please. The same Night I gave it to Phebe, whom the Princess loved best of all her Maids, praying her to present it to her as she was going to Bed, that she might divert herself a while in the reading of it, as she had done oftentimes before.  
I did not go that Night to Julia's lodging, but the next day I did not fail to meet her as she was walking in the Allies of her Garden; she received me within a very gracious countenance, and as soon as I had performed my Reverence to her, causing her Gentleman Usher to retire, that she might honour me with his employment during her walk, she gave me her hand, and permitted mean absolute liberty to entertain her without being overheard by the persons of her Retinue, who out of respect kept themselves at a distance from us. She spoke first, and looking upon me with an eye which might inflame the most frozen Scythian, I have received your excuses, said she, and since you will needs have me to be a goddess, I thought it best to imitate the gods, in accepting Repentance for the reparation of Offences; besides, you excuse yourself so eloquently, that I must receive greater injuries than any you have done me yet, before I deny you pardon. Madam, replied I, if you look upon my intentions, I have done you no injury, seeing they never did, nor ever shall proceed any further, than to the most humble veneration that can be due to our great goddess from the most submissive of men; but if from the lowness of the Adorer, men raise their eyes to the height of the Divinity adored, and if there be any proportion between the Offence and the Divinity which receives it, they may well judge it to be no small one, & together with their greatness, the gods have need of goodness too, to pardon it. I know nothing that is inferior in you, replied Julia. Your birth is as Noble as any of those persons is who are every day advanced in Rome to the highest Dignities your Courage is no less than theirs, your Wit is incomparably above theirs; and if, because you have been a greater lover of honest divertisement, than of serious employment, by which men are promoted to the Government of the Commonwealth, you have not yet attained to it, I am not of so austere an inclination as toesteem you the less for it, and you are young enough to acquire that hereafter, which as yet you have not renounced. Do not undervalue yourself then before me, who prize and esteem you more than half the Senate; but believe, that with the advantages you possess, and the respect you observe, you may have the liberty to look upon any thing. Neither is it for the difference that is between a Roman Knight, and Caesar's Daughter, that I have obliged you to be secret, I should have dealt in the same manner with the greatest Princes of Europe, if I had esteemed them so far as to have any secrecy with them; for 'tis from Marcellus only, that I am permitted to receive Services in Public, and it may be I might expose them to Augustus 's displeasure, if I should favour any with a particular affection. I express my thoughts to you with a great deal of freedom, continued she, looking upon me with a smile, and thereby I sufficiently signify to you the esteem I have of you, and the confidence I repose in you.  
The presence of those persons which followed us, and beheld all our Actions, could very hardly hinder me from throwing myself at Julia's feet; and if I had been in a place ●here I might have had my own liberty, I should have continued whole hours at her knees, ●●ender her a small part of what was due to the grace she did me; but not having the ●●●eniency of doing what I did desire, I was content to make her this Reply with a pro●●●d Reverence. The Favours which I receive from your Grandeur, are so unpropor●onable to the merit of my person, and the strength of my understanding, that if your justice doth not moderate them, for aught I know, they may absolutely deprive me of the knowledge I should have of myself. I am the most happy and the most glotious of men, and I conceive my Fortune to be better than Prince Marcellus', to whom the gods and Cesar have designed the most sublime amongst Mortals, since that notwithstanding the Engagements you have to the excellent qualities of that Prince, who is as great in all things else, as in his Fortune, you can reserve one of your precious moments to think upon poor Ovid, whose acknowledgement is so great for those blessings which are above all value, that he will not conceive Marcellus to be more happy in the possession of you, than he shall be in yielding up his last breath in the Service of the Divine Julia.  
I pronounced these words with an Action full of vehemence, which was observed by the Princess, and made her judge that I was touched with a real passion. She put on a more pleasant countenance than before, and bestowing a few moments in viewing of my face: You are in earnest then, said she, and I need not any longer be in doubt, but that Ovid hath forgot Cipassis. I will never forget, said I, what is due to the Merits of Cipassis; but the may content herself, if she please, with my esteem, and henceforth leave my Adorations for the goddesses.  
I should have had the happiness of a longer Conversation with the Princess, who harkened very favourably to me, if we had not seen the Empress appear, whom Julia went to wait upon out of Civility; and if Marcellus had not come a little after, who proffered his hand to the Princess, and deprived me of the opportunity of entertaining her for the rest of that day: But I retrived it often enough through Julia's goodness, who receiving my respectful Vows with as much indulgence as I could desire, put me into the most happy condition according to my humour, that if ever I durst aspire to; yet she always preserved the Dignity of Augustus' Daughter, and her Favours never extended farther than favourable looks, and obliging expressions: But that which from another Lady would have been inconsiderable, was so great coming from Julia, that I could not look upon it, nor receive it otherwise than as a thing of the highest value, always judging it to be the greatest Glory I was capable of, to see myself favoured with a particular good will, by the greatest Princess of the Universe.  
They that would make the world believe that I made such advantages of it, as gave me occasion to write those Elegies, which some of the Romans have seen under Corinna's Name, do it maliciously, to bring me into disgrace with Cesar, and Prince Marcellus; and since I am come to mention it, one day or other for your diversion, I will acquaint you with the adventures and passages which concern Corinna and myself, though neither her name nor person be known at Rome, because she was never there; and 'twas in a very remote Province that I knew her, in the Expedition which Vincius made into Germany, where I bare Arms under him.  
I will not repeat to you all the Conversations I had with Julia, whom I saw and entertained every day with all facility, as often as Marcellus left her liberty; or when she was not engaged in the Company of so many great Princesses as silently sighed at her feet, and whose sighs (though her chiefest affectionr were for Marcellus) were not disagreeable to her. As she was endued with a very excellent wit, so our Conversations were pleasant, and merely ingenious; and for that reason having discoursed with her one day upon a very subtle Subject, she told me, that Marcellus could have no cause to be jealous, if she had some affection for a man whose Soul she loved, and who did not pretend to any thing that concerned the body.  
But it may be you will ask me, what I conceive of her thoughts for Marcellus? And as for that, I will tell you as far as I can judge, That certainly the Prince always possesses the supreme place in her heart above all others who have only made attempts; and the real foundation of love, which, it may be, is in her Soul, is for him only, to the prejudice of all the rest; and yet 'tis true, that she is no lover of constraint, nor is she willing to be bound up to him by such an exact and rigous fidelity, but that she may be permitted to let her mind a little range towards those objects which might please her; yet she always reflects upon the former passion, which hath the deepest foundation, and I believe too that she would never absolutely fly from it, but would confine all her inclinations to the merits of that brave Prince, if love only without any other interest, had been the cause of their Engagement; and if the Emperor had not interposed his Authority and Endeavours to tie up their affection, with a Design to unite them by Marriage. So certain it is, that Love is an Enemy to every thing that wears but the Vizard of Tyranny, and it will act with liberty itself though it destroy all liberty besides its own. To this purpose one day when she had had some Quarrel with Marcellus, who could not choose but give her some Testimonies of Jealousy, which he had ground enough for; I remember that she said to me: Do you see, Ovid, I would not have you doubt but that I really esteem & love Marcellus, whose Person, services and Qualities, do well deserve my affection; and I shall dispose myself without repugnance to receive him for my Husband, when the Emperor shall command me; but I would not engage myself so before hand, but that I would reserve a liberty to myself to esteem what is estimable; and yet I preserve amity enough for him though I dispense with myself in bestowing a little goodwill upon Ovid.  
You may believe that when I heard her discourse to this purpose, I answered her rather according to mine own interest, than to reason; and though I thought that her proceedings towards Marcellus were not justifiable, yet I did not speak my thoughts to divert her from them, but rather made use of all the Arguments I could, to persuade her that she might show some goodness to me, without doing any injustice to a man who must one day be so happy.  
It happened in the mean time, that the Prince, who is of a piercing wit, being prepossessed with divers proofs of the Princess' humour, took notice that she carried herself more familiarly towards me than she had been wont to do; that I was more frequently with her, and that her looks were more favourable to me, than probably they should have been, merely out of goodwill. At first he made a kind of a Jest of it, and not judging me to be so redoubtable a Rival, as to cause him any trouble, he contented himself to question me sometimes upon the opinion he had of my good Fortune, and seeing me return one day from the Princess, and pass close by him: Ovid, said he to me smiling, and in a pleasant way, I shall begin to be jealous of you, and you do not dream that; if you are more happy than I, we shall have occasion to quarrel with each other. He spoke these words with such an air, as made me judge that they were not seriously spoken, and receiving them with all due respect: such Princes as Marcellus is, answered I withas pleasant acountenance as his, are secure from such rivals as Ovid is; 'tis for that reason, that they confidently make themselves sport with those who cannot aspire any higher than a mean Fortune. You may merit enough, replied Marcellus, to make me jealous, but you are too much my friend to wish me any harm. I answered this obliging discourse with due civility and respect, as I did divers other Jests he put upon me afterwards to the same purpose, and once in the Princess' presence, with whom having found me in private Discourse; Madam, said he, You cannot better express the excellency of your own wit, than by the esteem you have of Ovid's ingenuity; but 'tis to be feared, continued he with a smile, that a man who treats so dextrously and subtly concerning Love, may inspire sense of it into a heart which doth not stand upon its guard. Perhaps, you mean to jeer us, answered Julia, in a very pleasant manner; Yes, Madam, said I, interrupting her, and preventing what she would have added further, the Prince doth mean to laugh at us, and doth really make himself merry with us; but we must submit to his raillery, and I am not sorry that I contribute to his divertisement.  
Marcellus made a Reply to these words with a great deal of sweetness and civility; but a few days after thinking that he observed more than he desired upon divers Accounts, by little and little he left off his raillery, and began to look upon me with more coldness than before; and truly I could not blame him for it, knowing very well, that though he was of a spirit infinitely rational, yet Julia's humour might give him occasion enough to exercise all his patience: His mind was exasperated by the private Addresses of Caius Drusus, and the complacency the Princess expressed in relation to his passion; and possibly meditated upon that which afterwards he discovered, when, without having any Design to do it, I caused him to receive a very sensible displeasure, and was like to have exposed myself to one, Though some persons are acquainted with it, I suppose it is not as yet come to your knowledge.  
Julia, as you know, was wont to be visited every Evening by great store of Company, loving society and divertisement the most of any person in the World. One Night, by reason of some indisposition she had, she would not be seen by any body; but being gone to Bed, she sent word to all those that came to her Chamber-door, that she was retired. Marcellus had often seen her in that condition, having reason to have a privilege above all other persons; but that Evening coming to her Chamber-door, Julia caused him to be told, as she did others, That she was ill, and desired to be left to her Repose that Night. Marcellus went his way more afflicted at the Princess' indisposition, than troubled at the Repulse, and went to pass the Evening with the Emperor. In the meantime, as Fortune would have it, I came into Julia's Antichamber, where being informed by Phebe of her indisposition, I prayed her to go into the Chamber, and to take the pains to bring me News of the present estate of her health. The Princess, whether it were that she found herself at that present in a better condition than she had done some hours before, or that she thought that she should be less incommodated with my presence than with any bodies else, by whom she might have been obliged to a greater constraint, understanding by Phebe that I was at her Chamber-door, she commanded her to bring me in.  
You may judge how joyful I was to see myself so highly favoured above my expectation and merit; I entered into the Chamber, and approached the Princess' Bedside with an Action accompanied with the respect which was due unto her, through which the satisfaction of my Soul might be easily perceived, and there by the light of some Tapers which were burning by the Bedside, I saw Julia not only in such a condition as I never saw her in before, but in a condition wherein she might have made both Cato and Fabricius, and all the most crabbed Philosophers in Rome, even to die for love.  
You know how admirably her Night-attire becomes her; but besides that, part of her Neck being carelessly uncovered, and her Arms more than half-naked, being negligently cast upon the Sheets, whose whiteness they far exceeded, displayed such beauties to my eyes, that I could hardly support the sparkling lustre of them; and I did sufficiently express to Julia by my Action, the Transport into which this sight had put me; and instead of rendering her the humble Salutations which were due to her, I stood a few paces off from her Bed, looking upon her with an intention which visibly expressed the suspension of my senses, and the admiration of my Soul.  
Julia, to whom these effects of her beauty were not disagrceable, smiled at my Action, and having let me alone a little longer in this contemplation, which rendered me mute, and without motion, at last desiring to make me to speak; What ails you, Ovid, said she, what makes you so amazed? Is it thus that you dispose yourself, to thank me for the favour I have done you? Madam, answered I, dissipating some part of my astonishment, the Favour you have done me, is as far above all the thanks I can render you for it, as the Divine beauties which appeared to my dazzled eyes, are above all comparison, expression, and imagination. This exaggeration did not displease Julia, and seeing that I was fallen upon my knees by her Bedside, and kissed the sheet with a very passionate Action, after she had looked upon me with an eye which darted out a Thousand resplendent rays: This beauty, said she, which you commend so much, is not really, nor possibly in your thoughts, such as you represent it to be; but as for my goodness to you, you cannot disavow that, without being ungrateful. Your goodness, replied I, is as unlimited as your beauty, and you should not be my great goddess, if your goodness were not as incomprehensible as your beauty. All the goddesses, answered Julia, are not so kind; but whatsoever I am, I was willing to express to you the amity I have for you, by an Action which possibly may occasion me a quarrel. I confess, said I, that those to whom this Fortune is denied, have so much cause to envy at it, that if I did not know that it cannot be justly hoped for upon the Account of any Merit whatsoever I should approve of all that envy and jealousy could undertake or wish to my prejudice. No body, replied Julia, can attempt or wish any thing to your disadvantage, without my incurring displeasure; and the goodwill I have for you, is great enough to make me participate in any thing that shall concern you.  
These obliging words being delivered in a more obliging manner, raised such a resentment in me, as transported me beyond the respect which was due to Caesar's Daughter, and creeping upon my knees to the place where I saw one of her fair hands lying a little over the side of her Bed, I was so bold as to lay my mouth upon it, and fix it there with an Action full of ardour and vehemence. I was afraid that the Princess would condemn my boldness, when, to free me of that fear, she laid her other hand on my head, and pressed it betwixt them both, in such a caressing manner, that I had almost died with the excess of my contentment. I would have continued longer in a posture, which, as I thought, was worthy of the envy of the most fortunate persons; but Julia, who had caused me to be called in only for a moment's sight, and to give me time to give her good night, fearing that if I should make any longer stay in her Chamber, it might be known, and give occasion of complaint to those who took interest in it, put me out of this rapture to my great regret, and after some words, as obliging as the former, she ordered me to retire. I obeyed her with all the signs of resentment that such a grace ought to work in me, and went out of her Chamber so satisfied with this Adventure, that I could not contain my Joy. But my foot was hardly out of the Chamber, but I saw myself surprised with the light of divers Tapers which came into the Antichamber, and with them the Prince Marcellus, who returning from the Emperor, was minded to come back to Julia's apartment, to inquire of some of her Maids how she did.  
Though, as I think I told you, I was not a Rival so considerable, as to cause suspicion and fear in Marcellus, and his Jealousies were grounded upon other manner of persons than Ovid, yet he could not see me come at that hour out of Julia's Chamber, where he had been denied admittance but an hour before, without suffering himself to be transported with a violent despite, and such ebullitions of Choler as he could hardly contain. Perceiving that I was discovered, I was minded to accost him with civility and Respect, and bid him good-night; but he prevented my Discourse, and looking upon me with an eye that sufficiently signified his Discontent: I find, said he,, that you are highly esteemed and favoured, that can have admittance into Julia 's Chamber, when Marcellus is denied. Sir, replied I, this grace may better be granted to Ovid, than to such persons as may stand in competition with Marcellus; and 'tis very probable the Princess would not grant me admittance into her Chamber before Prince Marcellus, but because she may make me retire thence with more liberty; and she is not obliged for my sake, as she is for his, to lay those constraints upon herself that might incommodate her in her indisposition. Marcellus had hardly so much patience as to hear me out, and speaking with an Accent full of Choler: Julia is too much obliged unto you, said he, for the care you take to justify her Actions; but if, as deeply injured as I am by her proceedings, I did not still preserve the respect I owe her, I would teach you in this very place in what manner you should approach her; and if henceforward you look upon her otherwise, than as Ovid ought to look upon Augustus 's Daughter, I will quickly make such use of it, that possibly you should not quickly forget the injuries you have done me.  
This threatening of Marcellus', to whom for divers considerations I owed all manner of submissive Respect, did extremely surprise me; but not being born with a Courage capable to support indignity, I could not choose but return him such an answer as suddenly came into my Head: Sir, said I, I know what I owe to Cesar, and to him that he hath designed for his Son-in-law and Successor; but I know very well too, that as long as I am myself, no body shall do me any outrage, except he takes away my life, or puts his own in danger. Marcellus made no Reply to these words, having already turned his back to be gone; and possibly he was not willing to hearken to them, thinking that he was not so much Master of his passions, but that he might fly out more violently than he desired to do in that place. I retired likewise very much troubled, and so nettled at Marcellus' threatening, which I was compelled to endure, though I found it insupportable to a man of Courage, that all that Night I could not sleep.  
But if this Discourse hath acquainted you with Marcellus' hastiness, you will perceive by what follows, what the excellency of his Nature is, and you will confirm yourself in the opinion which you, and all the world have hitherto had, that there was never any Prince more worthy of the Esteem, and the Affections of the whole World, than he.  
I went the next day to wait upon Meconus, who always favoured me with a very particular Affection, and I had an intention to make a complaint to him of the usage I had received from Marcellus; but I was hardly in the Court, but the Prince came, and he had no sooner seen me, but coming to me, and leading me to one of the ends of the Court, that we might be at a distance from those persons which attended him, after he had taken me by the hand in a very passionate manner: Ovid said he, I am very sensibly afflicted at the folly which my passion made me commit; I know your birth and virtue may merit the esteem of all the World, and you have Courage enough to repel all injuries that may be offered you: I could wish you might see in my heart how penitent I am for my indiscreet passion, and how desirous I shall always be to repair that fault by all the opportunities that shall be offered of expressing to you how much esteem I have for you: I entreat you to forget it, and to believe that the motives which induced me to it, render me more worthy of your pity, than of your resentment. To these words he added divers others with such a real freedom and generosity, that instead of leaving any anger in my heart, he made me very sorry that I had displeased him, and fully resolved never whilst I lived, to fail in my due respect to him. His interest, it may be, was not capable of wiping that impression out of my Soul, which the Divine beauties of Julia had made there; but it obliged me to live in such a manner, that he could not find the least matter of complaint in any of my Actions; and doubtless I had done more upon that Account, if I had not known very well, that his Repose could not be disturbed by any Cross that I could raise him.  
Julia, who saw me carry myself after a more reserved manner than formerly I had done, and understood the cause of it from myself, approved of it, and expressed the more goodwill to me for it, though at first she was a little angry with Marcellus for what had past. The Prince took notice that I was a great deal more reserved than I had formerly been, and imagining the cause of it, he entreated Re divers times to live as I had wont eo do, and not to lay any constraint upon myself for his sake, but to believe that he would never have a jealous thought of me as long as he lived: But his Civility did not hinder me from carrying myself with that circumspection which behoved me, and though I saw the Prinness almost as often as before, though in my writings I chanted out her beauties, and she permitted me to make it known, that she was, and always should be the real object of my Adorations; and though she always treated me with the same goodness that I have related to you, yet I carried myself so, that I believe that nothing could be objected against me as a reproach. I continued my visits in the mean while to the fair & sage Cipassis, whom, in spite of my teeth, I was forced to acquaint with some part of that which I have related to you, and I did more and more observe such eminent virtues in her, that in my opinion there could hardly be found a person in the World, more worthy than herself of a real esteem and affection; you see Sir, the pure truth of the condition wherein I am, and have been in relation to Julia, protesting to you, that I think I have not forgotten any thing that I conceive worth the relating to you; and they that would make the world believe that I have been more favoured than so, have done it rather out of a Design to do me a mischief, than any way to gratify me.  
Ovid finished his Relation in this manner, and Agrippa, who had harkened to him with more earnest attention than in all probability his love could permit, was about to ask him some questions, when Cornelius, who was no less taken with Candace, than Agrippa was with Elisa, came to give him notice, that 'twas time to take Horse, to ride abroad that way which the Princesses had taken, as they had resolved. Agrippa, who had no less impatience than he to see them again, immediately complied with Gallus his desire, and understanding that their Horses were ready in the next Court, went out of the Chamber and took Horse, being accompanied with Gallus, and a gallant Train of other persons, who attended them upon this occasion.   
The End of the Third Book.   

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA; OR, Loves Masterpiece. PART. VII.  
LIB. IV.  
ARGUMENT.  
The two Princesses, Elisa and Candace, being conducted by Clitie towards Tiridates 's house, by the way meet with one of his Servants, who acquaints them with his Master's death, and conducts them to his Tomb. Walking thereabout, Candace espies Britomarus, and shows him to Elisa, who finds him to be her Artaban, and at the sight of him falls into an Ecstasy. She being recovered, they both break out into a loud exclamation of joy; but as Artaban is going to give his beloved Princess the Story of his Adventures, he is interrupted by a body of Horse commanded by Tigranes, King of the Medes, who espying Elisa, endeavours to persuade her to bear him Company; but not prevailing, he attempts to carry her away by force. Artaban 's danger in hindering him. The Convoy, that waited upon the Princesses, assist Artaban, and yet Elisa is like to be lost for all that. Agrippa and Cornelius with their Train, come in and end the Combat, whereupon they all march together unto Alexandria.  
IN the mean time the sad Elisa, and the courageous Candace, in the Equipage we spoke of, went out of Alexandria, and under the Conduct of Clitie, who thought herself most knowing in the direction of their walk, they followed all along the shore, that way which conducted them to the house of the unfortunate Tiridates. Having no desire to acquaint those persons who accompanied them, that they had any other Design, but only to take the Air, they permitted their Chariot to go a very gentle pace, and Candace moderated the impatience she had to hear News of Cesario, out of the care she thought it behoved her to have to conceal her intentions! Oh! with what sweet hopes did she endeavour to sweeten those sorrows which had so much afflicted her? And how agreeably was her imaginations flattered with the expectation of seeing her beloved Prince! This thought occasioned some ebullitions of joy which she could hardly contain, and if she had not made some difficulty to summon up all her natural Alacrity in the Company of an afflicted person as Elisa was, she would have made a part, of that which she was sensible of, appear by exterior marks. Yet 'tis certain, that in all the thoughts that possessed her mind, nothing but Cesario presented itself to her remembrance; and she did not make so much as one single reflection upon the loss of a Kingdom, which she could hardly conceive any hope to recover. 'Twas sufficient for her more important satisfaction, to know that Cesario was living, and that Cesario was not far distant from her; not thinking any other interests worthy to enter into consideration with the life and sight of her Cesario.  
Yet she had not continued long in her delightful Muse, but she felt herself agitated with cruel inquietudes, and knowing very well in what manner Fortune had been wont to cross her when there was any occasion, she was afraid that by some effect of her implacable enmity, she might cause some new impediment in the obtaining of that happiness which she had hoped for upon so slight a ground. Alas, said she, upon a sudden within herself, the course of my life is too unfortunate for me to expect, without fear, the felicities I fancy to myself; and though it were certain that I had seen Cesario without illusion, and that I had no cause to fear one of the ordinary effects of a prepossessed imagination, which would assure me that Fortune hath made a Truce with me, and that she had not raised some new Adventure to deprive me once more of Cesario; yet I have so much reason to distrust her, that I should be a very Fool, if henceforwards I should build upon any thing that is subject to her Empire.  
This fear operating upon her imagination, drew two sighs from her breast with so much vehemence, that the afflicted Elisa, though buried as it were in her sad thoughts, having taken notice of them, turned her head gently towards her, and looking upon her with a languishing sweetness: Ah my fair Queen, said she, Is it for you to sigh so deeply, and to seem so sad and troubled, whilst Heaven is going about to show you a favourable countenance, and it seems that all the occasions of grief are reserved for none but Elisa. My dear Princess, answered Candace, I were too blame, if I should not confess that my Destiny affords me some grounds of hope; but as there are some moments when this thought doth mightily transport me with joy, so there are some others, when I cannot choose but fear whatsoever adverse Fortune can put in execution against me. You have little cause to fear, replied Elisa, considering 'tis so little a while since you saw Cesario; and that probably, in so small a space, and that condition you saw him in, he could have few occasions to remove himself farther from you. I desire to hope so, added Candace, and I conjure you to take some part in my satisfaction, because I hope one day to participate of yours. Mine, replied the Princess, cannot be found but in the Grave; but let us speak no more of that: if Heaven sends you any real cause of joy, I love you dearly enough to sacrifice a part of my sorrows to your contentment.  
Candace upon these obliging words, hugged the fair Elisa betwixt her Arms, and that desolate Princess, howsoever she strove with herself for her sake, could not lean her Cheek against hers without bedewing it with her tears.  
After these Caresses, and some Discourses which followed them, Candace desiring to change the Subject, having looked upon the Princess with a smile: Will you confess to me, said she, the truth of a thing which I have a desire to ask you? I promise you answered Elisa, that I will never conceal any thing from you which you shall desire to know of me. Is it not true, said Candace, that the effect of my suspicions is arrived, and that when Agrippa conducted you into the Chariot, he did not entertain you with indifferent things? 'Tis true, replied Elisa, that he said enough to me to make me know, that the scource of my misfortunes will never be dried up; and that if he doth not counterfeit only for his advertisement, I see myself exposed to the same persecution which you suffer from Cornelius. My fair Princess, said Candace, they which express passion for you, cannot be suspected of Fiction; and I doubt not but that Agrippa is very deeply sensible of the inevitable effect of your beauty. I am unfortunate enough, replied Elisa, to believe, that what you speak of, may befall me, and by this surcharge of displeasures, I see myself more reduced than before, to the necessity of your counsels and consolations. You may deal with Agrippa, answered Candace, as you see me deal with Cornelius, though certainly there is a notable difference betwixt those two men; and I conceive your destiny to be much better than mine, it having bestowed a new lover upon you, not only worthy to be preferred before Cornelius, but as illustrious too in regard of his great Reputation, as could be picked out for you amongst men, and of as considerable a Rank as any man about Augustina. That would afford me some comfort, added the sad Elisa, if I had a Design ever to love any thing again; but being fully resolved not to engage myself in a new affection, I am most afraid of those men who are most worthy of esteem; and I should be less troubled, if the most inferior of the Romans expressed love to me than I am to take notice of it in the person of a man who is great in Virtue and Credit, and by his power in the Empire, may occasion me a great many Crosses. 'Tis very certainly reported, answered Candace, That Agrippa is very powerful with Cesar, and by the Emperor's permission, he is almost absolute in all those Provinces which acknowledge the Roman Empire; but I never heard say, that Agrippa ever abused his own, or employed Caesar's Authority, to obtain that which he could not acquire by his own Virtue, and by lawful ways: So that you are secure from that power which you might be assured of, and I almost durst undertake to assure you (upon the report I have heard of him) that if he does you no violence by his Services, and the merit of his person, you need not fear any thing upon his account. Therefore if you will take my counsel, receive his Discourse with Civility, so long as he keeps himself within the bounds of that respect which is due to you; and though you would not make him a lover, yet endeavour not to make him an enemy. If you can by your good conduct reduce him to terms of Amity, his protection will not be unuseful to you; and if the King your Father, whose severe and cruel humour you are acquainted with, should pursue you, as being provoked by the resistance you have made against his will, and should endeavour to put you again by force into the hands of the King of the Medes, Agrippa, without doubt, by his credit with Cesar, might secure you from that violence, and all others which you might receive from the cruelty of Phraate.  
Elisa gave great attention to Candace's Discourse, finding a great deal of Reason and Truth in what she said, and in the mean time the Chariot after it had passed a little farther upon the Sand wherewith the shore was covered, began to enter into the Woods, where the shade and coolness was more agreeable than in the beginning of their walk. 'Twas in this place that the way turned a little from the Sea, and betwixt the Wood and the shore there were divers houses built, and amongst them there was that wherein the unfortunate Tiridates made his last abode.  
Clitie, who had taken upon her the care of finding it out, did not fail to take notice of an Alley which fronted the Road, and advertised the Princesses that this was the place which they sought for; but the better to conceal their Design, they thought it fit to pass on, and continue their walk an hour longer, with an intention to return the same way, and to execute their resolution as they came back. Candace could hardly prevail so far upon her impatience, but she knew of what importance it was to her to be careful in concealing whatsoever concerned Cesario. The business was done as she desired, and after they had spent almost an hour upon the same Road, she caused the Chariot to turn about, and returned the same way. Clitie took exact notice of the path, and as the Princesses, after they had made the Chariot to stay, were deliberating whether they should go to the house, or send Clitie to inquire News of Prince Tiridates, they saw one of the Officers of that poor Prince coming from the house, whom Clitie knew immediately, having seen him with his Master during the short abode she had made at that house. When he was come near to the Chariot, and Clitie had called to him, he knew her, and the Queen her Mistress too, and as according to the effect which merit ordinarily produces, he had taken as great a share as he was capable of, in the displeasure of his Master for the Queen being carried away, so he was joyful to see her in that place, and in a condition conformable to a person of Quality. The Queen having caused him to come close to the Chariot, that the might speak to him without being overheard by the Cavaliers who guarded the Chariot, and who out of respect, and their Master's order, kept themselves at a distance: Friend, said she, Wilt thou tell us no News of the Prince thy Master, and whether we may be permitted to give him a Visit, and to have a moment's Discourse with him? The afflicted Servant, instead of returning an Answer to these words, let fall abundance of tears, and a little after forcing himself to speak: Ah! Madam, said he, with a voice interrupted with sobs, Tiridates is dead, he expired two days since in that unfortunate house which you see before you; and that love wherein he hath been engaged for divers years hath brought him at last to his Grave.  
Candace was struck with this Discourse, as with a Thunderclap, and resented the death of this poor Prince with a very violent grief. Elisa, who had never seen him; not being able to resist the force of blood; and having much esteemed her Uncle upon the Relation she had heard of his virtue, was very nearly touched with this News, and joined her tears with those which the fair Queen of Ethiopia shed in abundance for a Prince to whom she was beholding for her life, and whose merit was very considerable to her. Ah! Madam, said Candace to the fair Elisa, turning sadly towards her, If you know how worthy this Prince was of your amity, and how deplorable his loss is to all those persons that were acquainted with him, I assure myself that you would bestow a great many tears upon him. Doubtless I ought to do so, answered Elisa, but they have been so usual with me of late, that the poor Prince would be little obliged to me for those I should shed for his loss.  
Upon these words they continued a great while without speaking, whilst the desolate Servant repeated succinctly to them, what Arsanes had reported concerning Mariamnes' death, and the sudden and the sad effect which it wrought upon the amorous spirit of Tiridates. Oh! Example, cried the fair Queen at this lamentable Relation, of the most firm and real love that ever heart was inflamed with! Oh Fidelity, pure and entire to the very end! poor Prince!— And upon these words, pity made the two Princesses redouble their weeping with so much violence, that for a long time they were not able to speak. When they had recovered the use of their speech, they enquired of the Servant how his body was disposed of, and in what place they intended to render him the honours of a Funeral. At this instant, said the Servant, Princes' Governor; and whom we obey since his death, is employed in one of the Chambers of the house, in causing his body to be imbalmed to be carried into Parthia, to be interred in the Tomb of the Arsacides; and those parts which could not endure the Voyage for fear of corruption, are lately laid in a Tomb which we are a raising for him about Five hundred paces hence upon the shore, where Prince Marcellus, who was present at his death, would have us leave this Monument of the loss of our Prince. Madam, said the afflicted Elisa to the Queen, I should not have Courage enough to go and see the body of the Prince my Uncle, and I am very sensible that I could not see it without a great deal of emotion, and some fear. But if you think good, I should be willing to visit the Tomb which they are erecting for him upon the shore, and to render there to his Manes the last Devoirs they can expect from the Arsacides: You have reason, said Candace, not to be willing to go into the house, where all objects would be very doleful, and where, considering our visit would be useless too, there is no need that we should show ourselves to the persons that may be there: We may with more facility and handsomeness go visit the Tomb as you desire, and I will willingly bear you Company thither.  
Upon these words, they caused themselves to be conducted that way which Tiridates' Servant guided them, and passing by the side of the House, they had not gone Five hundred paces, but they saw the Tomb, and the persons that were employed about it. Arsanes had sent for Workmen from the City the day before; and because the work was plain, and without curiosity, 'twas almost finished. 'Twas a Tomb of fair stone, without any workmanship, and upon it a Pyramid of the height of a man, upon which they had newly fixed an Epitaph upon a Copperplate. The Princesses alighted before they approached that doleful place, and, taking one another by the hand, they advanced towards the Tomb on foot.  
They which were still at work about it, being moved with respect at the sight of those Beauties, and being advertised by Tiridates' Servant, retired to their quarter, to leave the place free to the Princesses, who falling upon their knees, washed the cold stone with those tears which this sad object drew afresh from their fair eyes. After they had employed themselves a good while in this mournful exercise, and had wished to the Manes of Tiridates all the Repose which his Virtue and Fidelity might make him hope for in the Elysian Fields, the Princess of the Parthians raising her voice a little, but with a tone conformable to their sad employment, Arsacian Prince, said she, receive that which a Princess descended likewise of the blood of Arsaces' can at present offer thee; and since her destiny and thine, hath not permitted her to close thy eyes, and to render thee the last Offices which thou mightest expect from the persons of thy Family in Countries far remote from the place of thy Nativity, content thyself, faithful spirit, with the tears which she bestows upon thee, since her Fortune permits her to do no more; and by the glorious example which thou hast give her not to survive the person beloved, she hopes shortly to enjoy in the next life a sight which was denied her in the former. Elisa uttered these words in so sad a manner, that Candace was moved with a fresh compassion, and rising up from the place where they had kneeled, they cast their eyes upon the Epitaph which was lately fixed upon the Pyramid, and there they read these doleful words.  
To the Eternal Memory of a Prince, who had a share of all the Virtues, though Fortune, and a Brother's Cruelty, left him none in the Empire of his Ancestors.  
YOu that acknowledge Love's Empires,  
Pay Homage to the Manes  
Of Tiridates:  
Who renders the puissance of that goddess  
More redoubtable by his Example,  
Than by all his precedent Triumphs!  
Tiridates Great in Birth, Great in Valour,  
Great in all the Virtues,  
Was greater yet in his Love,  
Seeing that without the Aid  
Of Sword, or Poison, or Sickness,  
Love alone brought him to  
His Crave,  
And caused him to exspire his faithful Soul  
Having lost the person  
Beloved:  
As if the person beloved and  
Tiridates had been animated  
But with one Soul, and  
That by one single  
Thread, Destiny had cut off the  
Web of both their lives.  
The mournful words found so much conformity with the humour of the sad Elisa, that she desired to read them over divers times; and whilst she amused herself about this lamentable exercise, Candace, who, on the contrary, endeavoured to divert herself from these mortal objects, removed herself some paces from the Tomb, and calling to mind the remembrance of her interest, which Tiridates' death had caused her to suspend for some moments, she meditated, as she walked softly along, what means she might use to obtain elsewhere the assistance which she had expected from Tiridates.  
She had measured a few steps, when casting her eyes towards the house where that unfortunate Prince lay dead, she saw two men come that way on foot: and when she could discern them, she perceived that one of the two leaned upon one side upon his Companions, and the other upon a staff which he held in his hand, expressing by his feeble and languishing pace, that he was not in good health; and she had more reason to think so, when at a nearer distance she might perceive that his countenance was very pale. But though it was very much changed, yet she thought that she knew some of the features in it, and the nearer he came to her, the more she confirmed herself in that opinion, not that she sound so great a resemblance, as to ground her judgement upon it, considering that between the Age of Seventeen or Eighteen, and Four or five and twenty years, there happen very considerable alterations in a face; and it may be, she would not have absolutely given credit to that similitude, if the man, whose steps were addressed to Tiridates' Tomb, coming near to her, and having rendered to the Majesty of her countenance, and the condition wherein he found her, the salutation which he thought was due to her, had not seemed to have been very much astonished at the meeting of her. He cast his eyes upon her two or three times with all the signs of a profound admiration, and Candace's Visage having suffered less alteration than his, he the sooner perceived the resemblance of it, and not being able to master the first emotions of his transport: O gods, said he, starting back a step or two, Can it be possible that I should see the Princess Candace! The Tone of his voice, and these words, caused the Queen (who till then could give no credit to his imagination) no longer to doubt but that this man was Britomarus, who was educated in her Father's Court, though she had not seen him since he went out of Ethiopia▪ after the Combat he had had with Cesario. The Queen hearing herself named, confirmed herself presently in her opinion, and believing that she could not conceal herself from him: Yes, said she, drawing near to him, I am Candace, if you are Britomarus. I am Britomarus, without doubt, replied he; and though your disdain did heretofore do me some displeasure, which almost brought me to my Grave, yet I know very well that nothing can excuse me from the respect and veneration which is due to you, nor hinder me from offering you all the Services that you can expect from me upon those occasions which have conducted you into these Countries.  
With these words, he set one knee upon the ground, and kissed the hem of her garment, with the same difference which he had formerly rendered her, when he was brought up in her Service. Candace giving him her hand with a great deal of sweetness and Majesty caused him to rise up, and began to question him about the condition of his life, and what adventure had brought him into that Country; when she saw Elisa approach, and believing that the Princess would have the curiosity to see the bold Britomarus, of whom she made mention to her in the Relation of her life, and had acquainted her with the generous quarrel he had with Cesario; Madam, said she to her, be pleased to come and participate with me in the adventure I have had to meet with one of my most ancient acquaintants: come and see the bold Britomarus, for whose Courage I expressed so much esteem in the Discourse I made you of my fortunes.  
At the name of Britomarus, who, as Elisa remembered, had a great share in Candace's story; the Princess was really sensible of a desire to see a man, whose former Actions promised something worthy of Admiration, and came near to the Queen to look upon him; but she no sooner cast her eyes upon his face, but with a loud exclamation she let herself fall between Cephisa's Arms, who by good Fortune was close by her to hold her up. Britomarus, whose astonishment was less, and whose Courage was more undaunted than Elisa's was, did not lose his senses as she did; but seeming transported with a vehement passion, he ran to throw himself at her feet, and kissing them a thousand times with an Action full of ecstasy, he made Candace judge that Elisa had a greater interest than she, in meeting with Britomarus.  
In the mean time Elisa being fallen into a Swoon upon Cephisa's Lap, who was set down upon the ground, where she had gently laid the Princess, whilst Clitie ran for water to throw upon herself: Candace was not a little astonished at this Adventure, and not being able to judge for what reason the sight of Britomarus had wrought such a puissant effect upon Elisa's spirit, nor being likely to have any satisfaction upon that Account from Britomarus, who was fixed with so much ardour and earnestness at the Princess' knees, she asked Cephisa the cause of it, who being almost as much troubled as her Mistress, had not the power to return her an Answer when she saw Elisa open her eyes. The first thing they beheld was Britomarus, and at the second view the same cause was like to have closed them up again; yet the Princess strove with herself that she might not relapse into the same condition again, and sitting up whilst Britomarus stepped a little back out of respect, after she had looked upon him with an unassured respect, Artaban, said she, Is it you? Are you dead? or are you living? Do my eyes deceive me? or do I really see Artaban, who I saw perish in the waves?  
Candace imputing Elisa's Discourse to a crazed imagination, had pity upon her, and desiring to draw her out of an Error, whereinto she thought she was fallen through the strength of her grief: My fair Princess, said she, Artaban is not here, and I wish it might please the gods that you might as really find him, as 'tis certain that this is Britomarus whom you see at your feet. Britomarus, who till then had not had the power to speak, taking a hint at Candace's last words: Madam, said he, though I am Britomarus, yet I am Artaban too; and if under the name of Britomarus, I passed my younger years in Candace 's Service, under that of Artaban I have bestowed the best part of my life upon, and have dedicated the remainders of it to, the Princess Elisa. 'Tis under the name of Artaban that I return to her feet, and that I bring her back (continued he, beginning again to embrace her knees) not the Ghost of Artaban to affright her, but Artaban alive, and Artaban preserved from the waves by the same destinies which guided me to the glorious opportunities of doing her Service. Be not then any longer affrighted, my adorable Princess, at the presence of Artaban, he returns to you with the same Zeal which your Goodness was pleased to pardon, and the waters did in vain assault the life of a man, who could not die but for Elisa.  
The fair Princess of the Parthians, being persuaded by this Discourse to believe a truth which was so dear to her, could not resist the motions of joy which took possession of her soul, and dissipated in a moment that mortal sadness wherein she had languished divers days. The first thing she did, was to lift up her eyes to Heaven, and afterwards turning them towards the Sea: O Neptune! cried she, How real art thou in thy promises, since I see my Artaban again at the Tomb of a faithful Lover! And upon these words all her reservedness and ordinary modesty could not hinder her from laying her Arm over the Neck of the prostrate Artaban, and pressing it with a more passionate Action than was natural to her: Artaban, said she, my dear Artaban, How joyful am I to see you again? And how advantageously do the gods pay me for the tears I have shed, and the sorrows I have suffered for you? The contentment which at that time absolutely possessed her Soul, hindered her a great while from making any coherent or rational Discourse, and her countenance did far outstrip her tongue in expressing the conceptions of her mind.  
Artaban being full of ecstasy and transport, did not explicate himself with more freedom; and that great Bourage which was proof against the rudest Attacks of Fortune, and the most sensible Afflictions, had not strength enough to support with moderation this effect of an unexpected happiness, and to resist the motions of joy: But Candace having left them a while to their exclamations, and the first effects which such a meeting might produce, desired at last to participate of their joy, and throwing her Arms about the Neck of the fair Princess of the Parthians: Ah! my dear Princess, said she, How satisfied am I to behold your happiness? And with how much real joy do I resent the effect of those promises which I always made you? Will you not give credit another time to my Discourse? And will you not believe that the gods are too good, and too just, to abandon the protection of such a Princess as you are? My fair Queen, answered Elisa, paying her back her Caresses with interest; After I had the happiness to meet with your person, and to obtain your dear friendship, I had reason to hope for all manner of felicity; and if Artaban be but as joyful to see me again, as I am satisfied in his return to life, as I owe the meeting of him to you alone, so he is obliged to return you Thanks, for having preserved Elisa by your sweet consolations.  
The Queen turning herself then towards Artaban with more consideration than she had expressed to him at the first: What Britomarus, said she, Are you then that Artaban, whose sublime Reputation fills the Universe, who gains so many Battles, who unthrones Kings, overthrows Monarchies, and makes Empires depend upon the point of his Sword? I am, answered he modestly, that Artaban to whom Fortune hath given some advantages, which are much less considerable to him, than the glory of having served the Princess Elisa; and that Artaban is the same Britomarus, whom you, and the King your Father Treated with disdain; who was punished with Banishment for having so much boldness as to lift up his Sword against Cleomedon; and who, for all that, as you see, was designed for great things, and for a Fortune sufficiently glorious. I assure you, replied Candace, I always expected great and extraordinary things from you; but you must not think it strange, that at a time when no body could foresee the rank which you would advance yourself to by your Virtue, there was some difference made between you and Cleomedon: That Prince preserves an esteem for you, that speaks him no Enemy to you; and 'twas not without reason that you told him that you would render yourself so great by your Swords, that you might once more measure it with him. I had that honour but a few days since, said Artaban, and I believe that both of us do still carry the marks of our ●ncounter. Ah Britomarus, added Candace, Was it you then, that under those Arms which the Lions made remarkable, combated against him the other day in my presence, and not far from this place where we now are? 'Twas I myself Madam, replied Artaban, and ' twice in the same day we recommenced the Combat which was interrupted in Ethiopia. Artaban, said Elisa to him, intermingling with their Discourse, If you value my friendship, and desire that I should esteem you, you shall not only not be any longer an Enemy to a Prince who serves the Queen Candace; but you shall contract as great an Amity with him, as there is between this great Queen and I; and you shall seek for opportunities to serve him with as much ardour, as I have for the interests of the Princess whom he loves. Artaban continued some moments without making a Reply, and then upon a sudden resuming the Discourse: Madam, said he to Elisa, the Prince of whom you speak, doth so worthy deserve the esteem and the affection which you would create in me for him, that 'twas by the means of my misfortune only, that the occasions which I thought I had to complain of him, joining themselves to a natural repignance without reason and foundation, made me resist the inclination which his Virtue ●ight have wrought for him in all the men of the World besides. But though I had been a great deal more sensibly injured, the declaration of your Will is so powerful over my spirit; and the cause that gave birth to my first resentments, hath so long ceased; that I shall render to you without any repugnance, the obedience which is due to you, and to that Prince, whatsoever he can expect from the most faithful of his Friends, and the man who is best acquainted with his Virtue of any in the World. These words proceeding from the mouth of a man who could not be suspected of any want of sincerity and freedom, gave a great deal of satisfaction to the two Princesses; and Candace turning towards him with a countenance that expressed her contentment: I receive in Cleomedon 's stead, said she, a considerable Amity, as that of the great Artaban ought to be; and I promise you in the behalf of that absent Prince, that he shall answer it with a freedom equal to yours. Though he be absent, replied Artaban, I believe he is not very far off; and if he got off from our Combat, and from that we had afterwards against the Pirates, in such a condition as I did, I believe he could not make any long Voyage: But, added he, speaking to the two Princesses, you know possibly where he is; and in the mean time I cannot sufficiently wonder at the Fortune which hath brought you two together, and in so small a time hath joined you in so firm a friendship. You shall understand that at leisure, said Elisa; but in the mean while 'tis as just that we should know from you, by what miracle you are escaped from the Waves wherein my eyes beheld you entombed, and where we had great reason to think that we had lost you for ever.  
Artaban was about to return her an Answer, when at first they heard a noise of Horses, and afterwards turning about their Heads, they saw a Body of Thirty or Forty Cavaliers, who passed along the shore, and marched towards Alexandria. The Commander of this Troop had his Head unarmed, and only covered with a little Bonnet shaded with a black Plume of Feathers, the rest of his body was clad in Armour, as were all the persons of his Retinue. At the sight of the Ladies he left his Troop, and turning a little out of the way where he left it, he galloped towards the place where they were; and he was no sooner come to them, but having cast his eyes upon Elisa, and immediately knowing her, he remained so ravished at this encounter, that for some moments he could not either by Action or Discourse express the perturbations of his Soul. At last dissipating his astonishment, O gods! cried he, Behold, behold her, whom I seek for all the World over. Having finished these words, he threw himself hastily from his Horse, and ran to the Princess of the Parthians.  
Elisa at the first was surprised with his Action, but she was a great deal more surprised, and Artaban too, when casting their eyes upon the man's face, they knew him to be Tigranes' King of the Medes. Never was astonishment like to that of the fair Princess, when she saw before her eyes a Prince, whose sight, after she had given him such great causes of resentment, could not but be very formidable to her; the man to whom the King her Father had given his consent, the man that had espoused her by his Ambassadors, and expected her in his own Dominions as his lawful Spouse; and the same man, whose Ambassadors she sent disgracefully back, after that she was forcibly taken from their Conduct, and had declared her intentions to them. 'Tis certain, that at the sight of a Prince so highly offended, and whom Elisa could not look upon but as a cruel Enemy, the Princess was more like to one dead than alive, and had not so much power as to stir out of the place where she was, nor to utter one word. 'Twas at that moment that she took notice of the instability of Fortune, seeing that when she thought herself redevable to her for the life of her Artaban, upon whose death she had bestowed so many tears; and when she was about to wipe away her sorrows by an unexpected felicity, and to taste of an agreeable change in her condition, she saw herself at the same time precipitated into the greatest miseries she could apprehend, and fallen again into the hands of a man, whom she was more afraid of, than all the dangers to which she had been exposed to avoid him, and under which, neither Artaban's, nor her own life, could be otherwise than hateful to her.  
Tigranes plainly perceived her strong surprise, and not being ignorant of the cause of it, he did not seem much troubled at it. The usage he had received from the Princess, did certainly give him matter of resentment enough; but having a great deal of respect and love for her, he believed that 'twas not fit to make any uncivil use of this encounter, nor intimidate Elisa's spirit by a rough demeanour towards her, and so aggravate the grief which probably she might be sensible of for this effect of her bad Fortune. He smoothed his countenance as much as possibly he could, and he had no great difficulty to mollify himself before a Beauty which might have wrought the same effect upon Tigers; neither did he need to look far for humility, before those eyes which might humble the proudest hearts.  
In fine, reflecting a great deal more upon his present happiness, than upon all his past misfortunes, he seemed to express in his countenance the change of his condition, and accosting Elisa with an Action full of the marks of respect: Be not astonished Madam, said he to her, at the meeting of a Prince, whose Duty towards you nothing can dispense with: 'Tis not a Barbarian, 'tis not an Enemy that you have met; and though the cruel injuries, by which you have filled his Soul with despair, might give him just cause enough to complain, yet they have not expunged that profound Character of Love and Respect which your Beauties had ingraved in his heart. Though you turned away my Ambassadors, though you declared your cruel intention to them; and though, in scorn of my Services, and of the King your Father's will, and of that solemn Action which gave me lawful pretensions to the possession of you, you followed the fortune and the person of a man unknown, at the mercy of the Waves, of Pirates, and of a Thousand other Dangers; yet you have not so much injured me by rejecting my person and my love, as by the neglest you have had of your own life, in exposing it to so many perils, only to avoid the sight of a Prince who adored you. The just gods, in preserving you from so many hazards that apparently threatened you; have been pleased out of their goodness to put you again into the hands of him for whom your Conduct was reserved. Do not look upon him then with the eye of an Enemy, since he beholds you still with the same eyes through which love made a passage to his heart; and be pleased that by freeing you from a condition, which doubtless is not conformable to your Dignity, he may deliver you from all the outrages that Fortune could do you, and settle you upon a Throne where you shall Reign not so much over the Subjects, as over their Prince. Doubtless heaven would have it so, that hath so luckily conducted my steps, to meet with you; those whom your Birth might give some Command over you, have sufficiently expressed that it was their intention, and I hope that you will not be repugnant to it yourself, if you permit any consideration of Justice to succeed that cruel aversion, which I am bold to say I never deserved, and which hitherto hath exposed me to so many misfortunes.  
During Tigranes' Discourse, Elisa having had time to recompose herself a little, and taking Courage from the Command which she knew she had still over his spirit, after she had expressed by a look the thoughts of her Soul to Artaban, upon whom Tigranes had not as yet cast his eyes, and made that valiant man judge, that the fear she had for him was the thing that most troubled her: At last lifting up her eyes towards Tigranes with a more assured countenance than before; Tigranes, said she, I do not doubt, whatsoever cause of complaint you believe you have against me, but that I shall still find you to be a virtuous Prince from whom I ought not to expect any thing but respect and service; neither do I expect any other from you, if you give ear to reason in the complaints you make of me; and when you shall consider that I have always resisted the Testimonies of your Affection without giving you any hope; and on the contrary, have done all that possibly I could to extinguish all those which you might have conceived, and that I did openly, and to the uttermost of my power, oppose the violence which the King my Father did me in your Favour, when he committed me into the hands of your Ambassadors, you will not receive as an injury the Declaration I made to them of my intentions, nor the retreat I pretended to make to the King of Lybia, my Uncle, with whom I might have made an honourable stay, till the violent humour of the King my Father was a little moderated. I did not commit myself to Artaban 's Conduct, neither did I follow Artaban 's Fortune; and you yourself are not ignorant, that it was much against my will, that he was put into our Ship laden with Irons, to be conducted as a Prisoner to you; and that he was not freed from his Irons, till your men and mine had need of his Valour for the defence of their lives. I have since by good Fortune, found Sanctuary under Cesar 's power; they which command here for him, have put me under his protection, and at his feet I will expect my Destiny, without undertaking any longer Voyages, till it shall please the gods, and the King my Father; to assure the condition of my life. The King your Father, replied Tigranes, will never like it that you have chosen your retreat amongst his Enemies; the Empire of the Romans, and that of the Parthians, are too opposite, and they have had too many bloody Contests for you ever to think to persuade the King of the Parthians, to permit the Emperor of the Romans to dispose of his Family: But though it should fall out so, I will never trust my Rights to any man's disposing; and seeing that by the will of the gods, and the consent of the King your Father, you are my lawful Wife, I ought not to endure that you should beg for Refuge, who may offer it to others; nor seek for protection from any Foreign Power since you yourself have absolute command over a great Kingdom, which acknowledges you for its Queen. I should be, answered Elisa, your lawful Wife indeed, as you pretend, if together with the will of the gods, and the consent of the King my Father, which you allege, you could have gotten mine too, that was more necessary for you than the other, to make you my Husband, and without my will there is no power can make you so. The Action, replied Tigranes, was too Authentic not to be known, and no man will wonder, if I take possession of that which belongs to me wheresoever I can find it.  
Upon these words drawing near to her, he took her by the Arm, and though she made resistance, he did what he could to lead her towards his Troop.  
Artaban, who till then had harkened to their Discourse, expecting what conclusion they would make, grew altogether impatient at this Action; and though he knew very well that being alone unarmed, and feeble after his wounds, as he was, he could not show himself to Tigranes, without exposing himself to an apparent death; yet he closed his eyes against all the considerations of danger, and presenting himself to Tigranes with that great Courage which nothing could ever daunt: Stay Tigranes, said he, and do not think to do Elisa any violence, as long as Artaban lives.  
The King of the Medes had been till then so taken up with the unexpected meeting of Elisa, that he had not so much as cast his eyes upon those that accompanied her; and Artaban being on foot without Arms, or any thing that might attract the sight of a man which was strongly fixed upon other Objects, Tigranes took no notice of him: but he had no sooner spoken, nor appeared before the King, who for very great reasons had always his Idea present in his memory; but not withstanding the condition wherein he saw him, and the change of his countenance, he immediately knew him. The fire doth not more suddenly seize upon the most combustible substance, than Tigranes' Choler was enkindled in his offended spirit, all the injuries that he had received from Artaban, by his deserting of his Party, by taking of him Prisoner, by the loss of his Kingdom, and of his Elisa too; for which he accused none but him, came in a moment into his memory, and made him imagine that the gods had taken care of his love and vengeance both at once. He was resolved to neglect neither of them, and being inflamed with all the indignation that his resentment and jealousy could inspire him with, he quitted the Princess, and approaching his bold Rival with eyes sparkling with fury, and a garb-composed of terror: What, insolent man, said he, when I believed that the Waves and Fortune had snatched thee from my too just vengeance, dost thou come to present thyself to it, and to sack a death which thou mightest avoid by shunning the sight of a Prince whom thou hast so unworthily wronged? Tigranes, replied Artaban, Thou knowest very well that 'tis not my custom to fly from enraged Kings, and that sometimes I make Kings sensible of the destiny of other men, when we decide our quarrels by the Sword.  
Artaban had hardly made an end of these words, but Tigranes, who at another time would have been afraid of that formidable Arm, being so well acquainted with it, trusting at present to the number of his men, who seeing his Action a few paces off, could quickly come in to his assistance; and in Artaban's weakness, which appeared in his face, drew his Sword, and fell upon him full of fury; the Cavaliers of his Troop seeing his Action from the place where they were, ran at full speed to second him; but before they came to him, Artaban having put by a thrust which Tigranes made at him, gave him such an essectual blow upon the Head, that notwithstanding the weakness of the Arm which at that time could not act with its ordinary force, Tigranes not being able to support the weight of it, staggered two or three steps, and fell upon the Sand. Artaban had not time to rejoice at this lucky blow, and seeing at the same instant Thirty or Forty Cavaliers fall in upon him at full speed, though he thought his life was near a period; yet being resolved to make his Enemies buy it with some of their blood, he threw himself with the small strength he had behind Tiridates' Tomb, to avoid the shock of the Horses.  
The Cavaliers being vexed at the fall of their King, and having put on their Horses at full speed, ran a good way beyond the Tomb, and before they had stopped, and wheeled about to return to him, by the aid of his Squire he was gotten upon the Tomb, and leaning his back against the Pyramid where the Epitaph of Tiridates was fastened; he put himself into a posture to stop the first that should come within the length of his Sword.  
This was a very remarkable thing, that the mansion of death should serve for a Sanctuary of life; and yet 'tis certain that it was at Tiridates' Tomb that Artaban found his safety; for had it not been for the assistance he received from that, he had doubtless been run through Thirty times, and trodden under the Horse's feet; yet he could not have avoided the death which he only deferred, and though the first that came up to him received a blow of his Sword, which clest him half way down the face, and the second's Horse being struck upon the Head, gave a bound, and fell backwords upon his Master; the rest being full of desire to revenge their King, and ashamed of the resistance that a single man could make against them, they encompassed the Tomb, and would have quickly found means to dispatch Artaban with a Thousand wounds; and at the same time Tigranes, who was only astonished, being got up again with the assistance of two or three of his men, and having remounted his Horse, was going without doubt to execute his vengeance, when the Horsemen, who by the order of Agrippa and Cornelius, guarded the Princesses, and out of respect, had kept at a distance, to leave them liberty to discourse, being drawn thither by their outcries, and incited by their tears and entreaties, made towards the Tomb at full speed, with intention to succour that valiant man, who being alone disputed his life against so great a Number. Being immediately engaged; they dispatched the most eager of them; and the Medes seeing such an unexpected-succour come in to him that they assaulted, and being afraid that the Number of his assistants was greater than indeed it was, retired from about the Tomb, and rallied about their King, to receive the shock of these new Enemies.  
When Tigranes had viewed them, and saw them weaker in Number than his men, he charged them with a great deal of Choler; and the others, who were resolved to execute the orders which they had received from Agrippa and Cornelius, and knew very well, that without incurring their indignation, they could not desert the defence of the Princesses; they courageously opposed the Medes, and with the first blows that were given, two men of each party fell.  
But Artaban no sooner saw them at a distance from the Tomb, but causing his faithful Squire who did not leave him, to give him one of those Horses, whose Masters lay grovelling in the dust, and covering his left Arm with a shield which he presented to him, he got on Horseback by his assistance, and casting a terrible look upon the thickest of his Enemies, he charged amongst them with such a fury, as did not signify any diminution of his strength. There was a necessity that Love and Anger should extraordinarily animate him; for without their Aid, he was hardly strong enough to keep his Saddle; and in the mean time Tigranes saw him fall upon his men with that fierceness which was ordinary with Artaban; and that impetuosity, which was rather comparable to Lighting, than any humane thing. My friends cried he immediately to those that had succoured him, If I cannot be absolutely beholding to you for my life, I will lose the remainder of it in the Head of you; and if you employ all your Ualor, I hope our Enemies will have no cause to brag of their Victory.  
As he spoke these words, he let fall his redoubtable Sword upon the Head of the foremost and sent one half of it, with a part of the Head-piece to the ground; they that saw the blow, grew pale with fear, and Tigranes himself as courageous as he was, felt an Icy coldness trill along his veins, and he was not sorry when a party of his men pressed before him to defend him from so furious an Enemy. Artaban calling upon him with a loud voice, endeavoured to find out a passage to come at him, and doubtless he would have opened himself a way with his Sword, if he had been assisted with his ordinary strength, and if his body had been defended with any Armour, that might have secured him from divers thrusts that were made at him at the same time; yet 'tis certain that as he was, his Friends admired him, and his Enemies feared him.  
In the mean time, Elisa more like to a dead, than a living Creature, and Candace very sensibly afflicted for her sake, beheld the Combat with all the emotion that a deadly fear could create in them, and sent up a Thousand cries and vows to Heaven for the preservation of their Defenders, Elisa might easily have secured herself from Tigranes by flight, and Cephisa being not so courageous as she, counselled her to do so; but she could not endure to be told of leaving Artaban engaged in Combat upon her occasion, and chose rather to expose herself to all the ills that threatened her, than to the reproach of having ungratefully abandoned him. She had reason a few moments after to repent herself of her commendable resolution, if Repentance for a good Design could have found any room in her Soul; and Tigranes plainly perceiving that the Victory was not so Cocksure as he imagined, and fearing that whilst he obstinately pursued his vengeance against Artaban, he might lose Elisa, who might make an escape, during the Combat, after he had given order to the chief of his men not to let his Enemy escape, and had told them the place where he should find him, he road towards the Princess with two of his men, and making one of them alight, he commanded him to take Elisa, and lift her into his Arms.  
The Mede obeyed his Prince, and the fair Elisa, notwithstanding her exclamations, and all the resistance she could make, was carried from the place where she was, and put into Tigranes' Arms. The King of the Mede departed with his prey, being followed only by those two men who seconded him upon that Design; and Elisa, who was not of so strong a complexion as to escape out of his hands by struggling, filled the Air with her outcries, and called both gods and men to her Assistance. Tigranes held her fast betwixt his Arms, and though with sweet expressions he endeavoured to qualify the violence he did her, yet he held her so, that it was impossible for her to escape.  
Artaban, who heard her cries, and turned his Head that way from whence they came, perceived, with a mortal grief the loss he had, or was likely to receive, if he did not use some sudden remedy: Great gods, cried he, lifting up his eyes to Heaven, Will you deny me your assistance in this extremity wherein I implore it? And speaking these few words, he began to cut out that passage which was denied him, by a fatal blow which he gave to the forwardest of his opposers in the breast, which instantly deprived him of life, and seconding that blow with others no less furious than that, at last he made himself way enough to run to the assistance of his Princess, and never debating with himself whether he might with honour desert those men in a Combat wherein they were engaged for his defence, he pursued Tigranes with all the speed that his Horse could make; but the advantage which the King of the Medes had gotten before him was so great, that it had been impossible for him to overtake him, if he had met with no hindrance; and he was gotten to the skirt of the Wood, before that Artaban perceived that Elisa was carried away.  
The fair Princess made the Woods to echo with her exclamations, and her outcyes were not in vain; for they caused a man to turn his Head that way, who was passing amongst the Trees on Horseback, and by the paleness of his countenance; seemed to be in no better condition than Artaban. This man had no sooner seen Elisa between the Arms of her Ravisher, and lent some attention to her complaints, but he understood the violence that was offered her; and though he was called another way by very urgent Affairs, and was in no good condition to pick a quarrel, yet virtue prompted him to afford that assistance which was due to a distressed Lady; and riding up to the place where Tigranes must needs pass to stop his passage: Stay, said he to him, whosoever thou art, and do not believe that I will endure the violence thou offerest. Tigranes' being enraged at this new obstacle, and seeing that he could not clear his passage with his Sword, without letting the Princess go, he set her gently upon the ground, and approaching his new Enemy with his Sword in his hand: Thou hast sought thy death, said he, by hindering my Design. And with these words he intended, as he passed by him, to run him into the body with his Sword; but the unknown who had not yet drawn his, closing up to him, and seizing upon his Bridle, gave him so strong a thrust, that the Horse mounting before, and Tigranes being a little entangled in the Reins, the Horse fell backwards upon him, and almost killed him with the fall.  
The two Cavaliers that followed Tigranes, instead of going to relieve him, fell at once upon the unknown, who receiving them without fear, though he had no other Arms but his Sword, thrust in into the throat of the foremost with so much success, that it came out at the other side of his Neck; and seeing the second rush upon him with the same violence, after he had put by with his Sword a blow that the other made at his Head, he thrust his through the Visor of his Helmet, and tumbled him dead upon the Sand. Having made this sudden execution, and approaching to Elisa, who had had no time to remove herself: Madam, said he, What do you desire that I should do more for your Service? Elisa was about to return an Answer, when they saw Artaban come posting in with such an impetuosity, as sufficiently signified the passion which animated him. The countenance of the Princess expressed her joy at the sight, and the unknown who perceived him, having asked her if this was one of her Enemies: No, said she, This is my Defender, to whom you have rendered a considerable piece of Service, by putting me again into his hands. I will leave you with him then, replied the unknown, if you have no farther use of me; for I have not so much liberty as to stay any longer with you, if new occasions of doing you Service do not detain me. With these words he was preparing to depart, when Artaban came up close to him. They had no sooner viewed each other, but one knew the other; and though the unknown had had such great quarrels with him, as not to look upon him as a Friend, yet he could not repent of the Service which he had rendered him, and the Nobleness of his heart made him find all the satisfaction that he could receive by doing a good Action. Artaban was going to accost him, though the other retired with a great deal of impatience, when he saw the two Troops coming up to him which he had left engaged in fight, Tigranes' men being absolutely resolved to pursue him, and Agrippa's and Cornelius' men to defend him still as they had begun.  
At the same time Tigranes being recovered from under his Horse, and mounted again, the Combat began more furiously than before; and the King of the Medes being vexed at his bad Fortune which had laid him twice upon the ground, and at the resistance that was made against his Design, when he thought that nothing could possibly retard it, encouraging his men with his voice and example, quickly caused the earth to be covered with divers bodies of either party. 'Tis true, he could not choose but be afraid of Artaban's approaches, and as courageous as he was, he often grew pale at the mighty blows he saw him give. And 'twas not without reason that he feared him, for if this redoubtable Warrior had been but Master of his ordinary strength, and provided with good Arms, all the obstacles he met with, could not have hindered him from kill Tigranes in the midst of all his men; and as he was, he dispatched two of those whom their Prince loved best, before his face, with two furious blows; he cut off a third man's Arm, and gave Tigranes himself a blow, which gliding down his Armour, upon which his Sword did not fall right, hit upon his Horse's Neck, and gave him a great wound wherewith he was quite covered with blood, but almost at the same time his own Horse had received divers hurts under him, and began to stagger, being ready to fall. Besides the Number of the Medes far surpassing those that defended Artaban, and they being some of the bravest men of their Nation, this valiant man was still in danger of his life, when they saw a Body of above Fifty Horse coming from Alexandria, and presently those that fought for Elisa, cried out with a great deal of joy, that 'twas Agrippa and Cornelius.  
And indeed they were the same persons, whom the good Destiny of Elisa and Artaban had conducted forth to meet the Princesses, and having met first with Queen Candace all in tears, she gave them a short Account of Elisa's misfortune, and the danger of those persons that fought in her Defence. Agrippa having rendered what was due to the fair Queen, and leaving the care to Cornelius to cause her to remount into the Chariot, he flew in like an enraged Lion upon this occasion to serve the Princess whom he adored, and immediately seeking for Tigranes, as for an Enemy that would deprive him of that he loved, he had no sooner discovered him, but he charged him with a fury that was fatal to the first that came within the reach of his Sword.  
Elisa seeing him do it, did not forget to entreat his assistance; but her requests were unnecessary at a time when he was sufficiently animated by his own interest though otherwise he had virtue enough to do, only upon the motive of his Duty, whatsoever his love could exact of him. Tigranes' seeing this storm falling upon him, and finding himself incapable to resist it, got presently out of the Throng, and understanding that it was Agrippa that charged him, he cried out to his men to yield, and desired to speak with Agrippa. Agrippa, whom no passion could transport beyond the bounds of his Duty, stayed at Tigranes' words, and commanding his men to do so too, he gave Audience to the King of the Medes as he desired. The Combat ceased almost in a moment, and all the Combatants drawing up about their Masters, Tigranes on the one side at the head of his Troop, and Artaban on the other side with Elisa, whom he accosted, presented themselves before Agrippa.  
Tigranes' beginning to speak first, and knowing very well that he spoke to a man whose Name was venerable to all that acknowlegded the Roman Empire; My Lord Agrippa, said he, I know not what offence we have done you, to be treated thus as your mortal Enemies, and to see you imbrue your weapons in the blood of my men, who have not by any Action merited either Augustus' or Agrippa's Enmity. Though I appear here in a condition unconformable to my quality, I am King of the Medes, and I do not think you would deal with Princes of my Rank, as with common persons. Persons of your rank, said Agrippa, if you be indeed what you speak yourself, do not discover themselves by such Actions as drew our Arms against you; and not knowing you otherwise than by the condition wherein I saw you, I could not treat you otherwise, than as a man whom I found shedding the blood of our men, and violently carrying away a Princess, who hath taken Refuge between Cesar 's Arms. The Princess that I would carry away, replied Tigranes, is my lawful Spouse, whom the King her Father in the face of the whole World delivered to my Ambassadors after that the Marriage was publicly Celebrated: So that I cannot believe that either Agrippa or Augustus himself should think it strange, that I should take her, as being her Husband, to conduct her to the Throne where she ought to command. And if I have killed some of your men not knowing them, 'twas because they undertook the Defence of an insolent Fellow, who having no other Advantages, but what he hath acquired by his Sword, and what he hath received by the Favours I have done him, hath taken the Queen my Wife out of the hands of my Ambassadors, hath brought her by Sea into this Country, where I have met with her, and hath opposed the Design which I had to take her again as my own.  
Tigranes had spoken more, if the impatient Artaban had not boldly interrupted him: That Fellow, said he, who hath no other Advantages but those of his Sword, is the same, that wearing that Sword in thy Service, without being obliged to it by any considerations, preserved thy Crown when it was ready to fall into the hands of the King of the Parthians, and that by the breach of thy word being become thy Enemy, shamefully chased thee out of the Countries which that Sword had given thee, defeated thee in a pitched Field, took thee Prisoner gave thee thy liberty, which thou didst not deserve; and seeing thee return again in Arms, vanquished thee in divers Battles, and snatched that Crown from off thy Head which he had formerly settled upon it; if such a man be worthy of thy scorn, and cannot boast of any other Advantages than the Favours thou hast done him, I appeal to the judgement of the great Agrippa, who is sufficiently known to all the World to make me believe that Virtue is no less considerable to him than the lustre of a Crown.  
From the time that Artaban had begun to speak, Agrippa had begun to look upon him with Admiration; and not only the mine of this valiant person might cause the astonishment, and attract the attention of all that beheld him; but the great things likewise which happened in the Empires of the Medes and Parthians by the Valour of Artaban, being spread over all the Earth, had made the name of Artaban as famous as Caesar, or Pompey the Great; so that Agrippa, upon the Relation of his great Actions, divers times felt a generous emulation in himself towards a man, that in the Parthian Empire did so highly merit that glory which he sought for amongst the Romans. He had a hundred times desired to be acquainted with so great a man, and not doubting at that present but that it was he, after he had viewed him from head to foot, with an Action that expressed the thoughts he conceived for him: If you be the Great Artaban, said he, as your Discourse doth make me judge, you have reason to believe, that a Crown shall not be more considerable to me, than your Virtue; and though I would not deny what is due to the Royal Dignity, Trigranes must not be offended, if I say that those men who dispose of Crowns are to be no less esteemed of, than those that wear them; and that such men as Artaban being not so common as Kings are, will find amongst those that know what Virtue is, that which Kings can never expect from their Diadems. I will not only therefore assure you of Caesar 's protection and amity, but likewise desire your Friendship, as a benefit of so high a value, as cannot be purchased at any rate.  
Upon these words taking notice that Artaban was alighted, because his Horse was wounded, and was no longer able to bear him; he alighted too to go and embrace him; and Artaban, the most fierce and daring man in the world towards those that undervalved him, and the most humble and submissive to them that honoured him, and those whom he thought worthy of his esteem, received Agrippa's Caresses with all the respect he could have rendered to Augustus, and looking upon him as a man, whom his Virtue rendered far greater than his Fortune: Generous Agrippa, said he, Fame hath but done you justice though she proclaims you to be the greatest of men: and the honour you render to that little virtue wherewith she would flatter me, makes it apparent that you possess it in the highest degree.  
Whilst Agrippa made much of Artaban, Elisa was transported with joy at it; and Candace, who coming again to her, embraced her a thousand times, participated of her Friend's contentments, as if they had been her own. But Tigranes was ready to die with grief and despite to see the advantages of his Rival, and not being able to endure them any longer with patience: Great Agrippa, said he, the esteem you express to Artaban, ought not to make me fear that you will protect him against justice; but leaving you at liberty to render him all the honour you can think him worthy of, I only desire my wife of you, and do believe you are too just to desire to keep her from me.  
Elisa who heard this Discourse, was minded to prevent Agrippa's Answer, though she thought it would be for her disadvantage, and drawing near to him: I should have been Tigranes' wise, said she, if I would have consented to those violences which they would have done me in his favour; but having always resisted them as my Duty was, and as I might well do, being born in a free condition, he never was, or ever shall be my Husband; and instead of acknowledging him for such, I desire Augustus' protection and yours, great Agrippa, against the violence he would do me. Tigranes would have made a Reply, when Agrippa taking up the Discourse: Tigranes, said he, you need not fear any injustice in any place that yields obedience to Augustus' Authority: and if the Princess of the Parthians acknowledge you for her Husband, and be willing to go with you, we will be no hindrance to you; but if she hath no such intention, we will not suffer any violence to be offered her in those places where she cannot suffer it without prejudice to Caesar's Authority, whose protection she desires. It shall be before Caesar, if you please, that you shall dispute your pretensions; and you need not doubt but that he will preserve your interests, if Justice be on your side. In the mean time we will reconduct the fair Princess to Alexandria, whither you are permitted to retreat as well as she, and where you may expect, if you please, the arrival and judgement of Caesar. Cornelius advancing upon these words, confirmed Agrippa's Proposition to Tigranes; and believing that so much Civility was due to the Royal Dignity, he offered him, as Praetor of Egypt, what retreat he could desire in Alexandria.  
Tigranes sighed divers times for grief, and could not consent to the injury they did him in keeping Elisa from him; but at last considering that he had not power enough to change the condition of things according to his wish, and judging too that there was a great deal of equity in Agrippa's procedure, he told him, that seeing there was a necessity for it, he would go to Alexandria, and there expect the arrival of Caesar, believing that he would restore him his Spouse, and not deny him that Justice which he rendered to all the world.  
All things being thus pacified, Tigranes with his men marched towards Alexandria, whither, before he met with Elisa, he had a Design to go; and Cornelius, though he parted unwillingly from Candace, thought himself obliged in Civility to bear them Company, and to take care of providing lodgings for them; and Agrippa undertaking the conduct of Elisa, caused her to mount again into the Chariot with Candace, and though upon a confused report of the loves of Artaban and Elisa, he already looked upon that great man with thoughts of jealousy, he made the motions of that passion give place to Virtue, so as to render him all the assistances that were due to him; and supposing by the condition wherein he saw him, that he could not be long on Horseback without inconvenience, he desired him to enter into the Chariot with the Princesses, leading him as it were in Triumph over the advantages he had gained over his Enemy.  
O how much sweetness did Elisa and Artaban find in these delicious moments, after so many tears, and fears, and dangers; and if Artaban was proud to see himself at the feet of his adorable Princess, how much was Elisa satisfied to see him so near her, upon whom a few hours before she had bestowed so many tears.  
Their mutual contentment would have been far more absolute, if they had had the liberty to discourse together; but Agrippa deprived them of that, marching always by the boot of the Chariot where the Princess sat. At this time she endured his Company and Discourse more patiently than she did the last, nor could she indeed look ill upon a man, who besides the great qualities he was Master of, had lately rendered her Services of such grand importance. He could not speak to her but only concerning those things which had happened that day, and Agrippa following his virtuous inclinations rather than the motions of his jealousy, continued to Caress Artaban, and promised him all manner of good Offices; Artaban retaliated his Civilities with that Grandeur of mind which appeared in all his Actions, and in this Conversation these illustrious persons arrived at the gates of Alexandria, and entered into the City just as the Earth began to put on her Night-apparrel.   
The End of the Seventh Part of Hymen's Praeludia.   

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA; OR, Loves Masterpiece. Being the vl Part of that so much admired ROMANCE, entitled, CLEOPATRA.  

BOOK. I.  
IT is time to return to our illustrious Heroine, and the fair Artemisa, whom the violence of their Ravishers had forced from the Generous defence of the Valiant Son of Juba. In vain had that Prince (as brave as unfortunate) spilt so much blood, and covered the Earth with the bodies of so many Enemies; seeing that whilst he disputed the Victory in the dust, (whereon by the shock of a Horse he had been overturned) two of his Enemies approaching, the Princesses (half dead with fear) had through the assistance of the trouble and agitation of their Souls, carried them away with facility enough. Scarce had they so much as power to cry out for help; and though the Princess Cleopatra was of a make, and proportion of body able to have impeded her Ravisher, had she been in a condition of employing all her strength; but the confusion whereinto her grief and astonishment had cast her, had taken away a great part thereof; and the person who held her in his Arms was so strong, and so well mounted, that all her endeavours were found unprofitable, and unable to hinder their distancing (in a very little time) a great way from the place of the Combat. Their cries redoubled, after that the first surprise had passed into a knowledge of their condition, and recalling their whole Courage, unprofitably bestowed it on whatsoever they thought conducible to their liberty; Cleopatra was already almost confident of the truth of this adventure, and unable to suspect any other Ravisher than the King of Armenia, she scarce any longer doubted but that she was again fallen into his hand; but she received a more perfect intelligence, when casting her eyes upon the face of him that carried her, she knew him immediately for one of those men she had seen with Artaxes. Artemisa also knew her Ravisher, whose face through a longer Habit was more familiar to her; and though she knew him for one of the most trusty Servants of the King her Brother, yet (her inclinations bending rather to sweet, than violent courses) instead of making reproaches and menaces against a man who did her so unjust a violence, she had recourse to entreaties, representing to him with tears the sad estate of her condition, and the evil treatment she had reason to fear from the fury of the King her Brother; to her supplications she joined promises, and the hope of recompense. But both the Barbarians were inflexible, and though the Princess Cleopatra (approving the procedure of Artemisa, as judicious on this occasion) endeavoured to move hers, after her example, promising him for hers and Artemisa's liberty, a Fortune elevated above their own condition; but the two Armenians (faithful Ministers of their Master's will) resisted all these offers with an invincible constancy; only they obtained that they might not be separated, mutually hoping that each others Company would administer no small comfort in their disconsolate condition,  
The Ravishers making their flight with a mighty diligence, permitted them no communication, but by interrupted cries, and presently they found themselves at the Seashore. Having traversed some Sands whereby they might lose the footsteps which could guide those that followed them by the Tract for their Rescue, they pursued a long time the Seaside with the same swiftness, until they arrived at the place where they had left their Vessel. It was so well concealed, that 'twas impossible for those who traveled the shore to discover it; for the Armenians by chance had found a Rock, whose top advancing far into the Sea, form a spacious capacity, wherein not only one Vessel, but many might have covertly ridden at Anchor. They where forced to make a large Circuit about the Rock, ere they could arrive thither; nor without much difficulty could the Horses be boarded, having marched more than a thousand paces in the water up to the Saddle-skirts. Had the Princesses been capable of any other fear, than that principal one, wherewith their Souls were agitated; they had doubtless with paleness resented the terror of this object, and trembled at the fury of the waves which stormed the foot of the Rock with so much impetuosity: but life was not their most important care, nor that whereon their spirits dwelled; for they less dreaded the cruelty of the waves, than the encounter of the King of Armenia.  
In entering the Enemy's ship, they received many consolations, which in some sort sweetened the Grandeur of their displeasures; they found not the King, whom they equally feared to meet; but learned that he was detained by his wounds in a house upon the shore of Alexandria, and that they needed not to fear their departure from that Coast, till he was in a condition of enduring a Voyage; and moreover, the Princess Cleopatra found in the Vessel her Maids whom she had left there, and who, by the express order of Artaxes, (whose design was to render all sorts of respect to their Mistress) had received no evil treatment from the Armenians.  
These Ladies threw themselves at her feet, their eyes bathed in tears, which grief and joy parted equally between them, not knowing whether they ought to rejoice at the happiness of seeing her again, or afflict themselves that she was again re-fallen into that Captivity from whence they thought her entirely delivered. Cleopatra embraced them with an excess of tenderness, and endeavouring to testify in this last outrage of Fortune the same Constancy which she had practised in all the Accidents of her life: My Girls, (said she drying her eyes, that they might do the like after her example) let us expect from the assistance of Heaven, and not from our Tears, the conclusion of our Misfortunes; and let us hope that the gods (just as they are) will not long abandon Innocence and Virtue, to the disposition of violence and oppression. 'Tis true, we are in the power of a man capable of all wickedness; but his power is subject to that of the Immortal gods, who will not long leave his Cruelties unpunished; and we ought in all appearance to expect that from them, which they rarely refuse to those, whose Misfortunes only, or the injustice of their Enemies, have reduced into the condition wherein we now are.  
Finishing these words, she showed them the Princess Artemisa, commanding them to render her the Respects and Services which were due to her Birth and Virtue, and the love of her Brother Alexander; they beheld her with the difference they ought, and offered to serve her as their Princess, whilst the Armenians in the Vessel (being astonished to see Artemisa) informed themselves by their Companions of the truth of this adventure; and though they could not deny to the misfortune of this Princess some marks of compassion, yet could they not refuse the satisfaction which they received for a Prize, for which only they had left Armenia, and which in all appearance might make them hope for proportionable acknowledgement from the King their Master.  
There remained still Nine or ten of those whom the King had brought from Artaxates, there being no greater Number of Servants beside Mariners; these served the Princesses with respect enough, being unable to refuse to Artemisa (in disgrace as she was) that which they thought due to the Sister of their King; and knowing well the intention of Artaxes, that Cleopatra should be honoured amongst them as a goddess, they left her the Chamber wherein the King lay, during the time of his Navigation, and gave them the liberty of entertaining themselves, without troubling their Conversation, whilst some went out of the Vessel to advertise the King (whose Retreat they learned by one of the Officers of Tiridates) of the double Prize which they had taken, and to receive the Orders which he pleased to send.  
The two Princesses were no sooner at liberty to entertain themselves out of the presence of those odious faces, but they threw themselves upon a Bed, casting their Arms mutually about each others Neck, and mingling tears together, began by these Caresses their sorrowful Conversation. Artemisa appeared the most desolate, both because her Courage was naturally less firm than Cleopatra's, and also that in appearance she had great Subjects of sadness, having proved the rigour of her Brother, even before she had rendered him the sensible displeasure of her flight with Prince Alexander. She had reason to fear all things, and her knowledge of the King's inflexible humours so lively represented the misfortune that threatened her, that she was full of mortal apprehensions; but though this fear violently shook her, yet the remembrance of her Alexander, was nothing less sensible; and considering how her fair hopes were shipwrecked in the Port, and how even upon the point, when with apparent reason she believed to spend her days with her dear Alexander in legitimate sweetnesses, and in sweetnessess sweetened by so many difficulties, one reverse of Fortune so little foreseen, had taken away all her expectation, and in probability had deprived her of her Alexander for ever; here she had no Constancy, which bowed not under the consideration of so prodigious a Misfortune; through the assistance of these reasons, Artemisa believed her unhappiness greater, and more extraordinary than Cleopatra's who in appearance ought less to redoubt the presence of a King, a Lover and Idolater of her Beauties, than that of a King irritated and furious; and less to regret the distancing of Coriolanus, whom she fled, and whose infidelity she detested, than the the loss of her Alexander, whom she loved more than herself, and whose fidelity she had never so much as suspected. This opinion of Artemisa was not without foundation, but she saw not clearly into the sentiments of Cleopatra, part whereof were kept in by the greatness of her spirit; and as she was ignorant that the sight of Artaxes a Lover, was more terrible to that Princess than the presence of Artaxes an Enemy; and that she was resolved with more joy to see him again, his Sword in his hand, with those funest designs against her life, as he appeared the first time, than to behold him in a suppliant posture, representing to her the violence of his love: Neither knew she that in the Soul of this great Princess, the resentments how great soever they were, and how just soever they appeared, were uncapable to eradicate an affection which (through the many tokens of her love to Coriolanus) declared the depth of its root; or at least if they had strength enough to take away all thoughts of recognizance, and all advantageous designs which she had entertained for this Prince, whilst his fidelity appeared to her without spot; yet were they too weak to reduce her spirit into terms of receiving a new impression, or to make her suffer without horror the thought of a second affection.  
Moreover, how much soever prepossessed as she was by that enemy, Opinion, which had destroyed all her joy, yet could she not forget that which appeared to her eyes, both in the Encounter at Syracuse, and in the Adventure of this last day, signifying the contihuation, or at least the return of Coriolanus' love. She remembered those passionate words by which he endeavoured to clear his innocence, and placed before her eyes that admirable Valour wherewith he fought in her defence, and (which appeared most mournful to her remembrance) she could not forget how she had left him fallen under his Enemies, and in a condition that with great appearance she might imagine he had sacrificed the Relics of his life for her interests.  
Though Jealousy had been strong enough in her spirit to place hatred in the seat of love, yet this thought of the death of Coriolanus, could not but become Funest to any Soul that bore the Image of Cleopatra; and though the infidelity of that Prince had been much more clear than it appeared by those proofs she had, yet was she of too excellent a Nature to think him slain in her defence, without contributing to that thought, all that the most lively grief could produce in a Noble and acknowledging Soul: Ah! Son of Juba (said she within herself, whilst the grief of Artemisa rendered her more uncapable than she of all converse) since thou art unfaithful (whereof I am not permitted to doubt) wherefore returnest thou to persecute me both at Syracuse, and also upon the Banks of Alexandria? wherefore endeavourest thou by new obligations to kindle those flames which thy Infidelity would have extinguished? wherefore indangerest thou thy life in my defence? or wherefore (concluded she with a sigh) hast thou possibly lost it for my sake, having first soiled it by the Crime wherewith I reproach thee, having first deprived it of that which formerly rendered it more dear than mine own?  
Dost thou envy mine Innocence, and wouldst thou that I live a Criminal like thee, in receiving without acknowledgement so precious a Service, or that I live miserable in suffering by this last of thine Actions the return of an affection which cannot but become the shame and misfortune of my life? Ah! Coriolanus, whom I have so much loved! Ah Coriolanus, whom I cannot yet hate, to what extremities wouldst thou reduce me? what new Victory demandest thou over my heart? And for what reasons (incomprehensible to my spirit) comest thou by new Services to combat those miserable Relics of repose, which thy Infidelity hath left me? after what manner must I live, if our misfortune hath deprived thee of life for my sake? Shall I drown myself in tears for a perjured man, who hath terminated the most beautiful affection, by the blackest of all Infidelities? And shall I only bestow tears on a Prince, who having given me his whole life (excepting some unfortunate Months) came to employ the rest, and to pour forth the last drop of his blood for my sake? The fair Princess sensible at this remembrance, could not overpass it in her spirit without sighs and sobs, as so many marks of her interior agitation; and, had Artemisa been in a condition less deplorable, she had easily observed by these exterior signs the cruel inquietudes of her Soul; Artemisa was more grieved, but Cleopatra more disturbed; and if the Soul of Artemisa was less capable of comfort, that of Cleopatra had less repose and tranquillity. They continued together without expressing their thoughts by words, till at the defailance of day they brought lights into the Chamber. By the means of this light, they seemed to awake from their profound reveries, and recommenced their tender embraces. Though Artemisa appeared the more weak and unable to support her affliction, yet she spoke first, and accompanying her words with a torrent of tears: My dear Sister, said she to Cleopatra (for by this name of Sister, Prince Alexander had entreated them to prevent the hopes of their future Alliance) ought not I to fear you will cease to love me, when you consider that I am Sister to that cruel person who persecutes you? Nay rather, answered Cleopatra, (interrupting her) do not you regard me as Daughter to those persons who have given to your house so just a Subject of resentment against ours? Ah! replied Artemisa, that remembrance which hath been able to do nothing against the affection which I have always born my beloved Alexander, is too weak to overthrow the respect I bear the Divine Cleopatra; and that amity which amidst the most violent Subjects of hate, you have permitted to form itself in you hath received so great an increase on my part, by the admirable qualities of your person, and by the interest of my Alexander, that all the resentment you can have against me as Sister to Artaxes, is uncapable of bringing any diminution thereto: Believe me, my dear Sister (replied the fair Daughter of Antony) I know myself more worthy of your resentments than you can be of mine, and particularly in respect of my misfortune of having been the cause of your surprise; since you cannot be ignorant that they sought me only, and that unhappily you are enveloped in my misfortune. I can accuse myself of the same thing more justly, replied Artemisa, since I have been the only cause of my Brother's Voyage, and consequently of all the displeasures you resent; But alas! without accusing ourselves further, since our intentions are most innocent, must I not receive a sensible displeasure to see that the quality of Sister which I possess with your Enemy, gives me no advantageous opportunity of serving you? And instead of being able to demand our liberty, and of all the Services which through my means you might hope from him, if he were more reasonable, I am constrained to fly to the Empire which your Beauty hath over him to obtain some moderation of those rigours which his cruelty prepares for me. These words filled Cleopatra with pity, and locking Artemisa in her Arms: My dear Sister, said she, there is more appearance that I shall need your intercession, than that mine can be necessary to you; for, were the Soul of Artaxes yet more cruel, than it hath appeared by so many bloody testimonies, the Charms of Artemisa are capable of sweetening it; but if it succeed not thus, and that it prove true that I have any power over the spirit of the King your Brother, you may rest assured that the whole adantage of my life shall be employed in your Service, and that I will willingly overcome some part of those just resentments which I have against him, if you suppose that by this means I may sweeten him towards you.  
This is an effect, added the fair Artemisa, which I have not merited from your bounty, and doubt not but I had been possessed by fears far greater than these you see, were I not much confident of your protection, to which I hope Artaxes will have a reverend regard; but if through your means I may in some measure shade myself from the cruelty of my Brother, and that our common misfortune designs our Journey into Armenia, doubt not but I will essay many things for your liberty, and possibly find the means to fly with you as fortunately, as I formerly fled with Alexander. This Name of Alexander so lively renewed her griefs, that it was impossible to divert the current of her tears; and Cleopatra, who could not condemn them, and who scarce could restrain her own, twisting her mournful remembrances with those of this sad Princess, they sank again into that silence from whence they had been drawn, and preserved it until Supper was served in.  
Difficult it was to persuade them to take this repast, and scarce (by the persuasion of Cleopatra's Servants, who threw themselves upon their knees before their Mistress, conjuring her with tears, and the most pressing importunities) could they oblige them to receive any nourishment. They would not be undressed, but continued upon the Bed, where they were passing the Night in a most deplorable condition.  
The remembrance of their misfortunes permitted not the access of sleep, and their Conversation interrupted by sighs and sobs, had nothing of reasonable or compacted in it; when at the return of day (for it was the season of the thortest Nights) their griefs began to abate something of its former violence. Artemisa, perceiving that the Princess Cleopatra, (who was turned to the other side of the Bed, what essays soever she made to retain some part of the testimonies of her grief, and to arrest the course of sighs and sobs, which uncessantly proceeded from her breast) gave her reason to believe that the interior miseries of her heart were far greater than they outwardly appeared, pressed one of her fair hands between hers, obliging her by this action to turn towards her: My dear Sister, said she, you sensibly augment my displeasures, by signifying so sadly that yours are not inferior to them as I thought they must needs be. This liberty whose loss you deplore, is a good sufficient to merit some part of our tears; but this loss which is common to us both, joined with my fear of Artaxes cruelty, which casts me into mortal apprehensions, and the distancing and possibly eternal separation of my dear Alexander, is a misfortune incomparably above all those whereof you are a partaker with me; had you the like addition to your affliction, I would believe you as unfortunate as Artemisa; but your Soul being free, or at least little touched on this side, you will pardon me if I profess that I have not believed your grief equal to mine.  
The charming Cleopatra smoothed the way of her answer to Artemisa by a sigh, and beholding her with eyes (drowned as they were) whose splendour she could scarce endure; How, my Sister, said she, do you imagine that my Captivity alone completes my Grief? And judge you that I bestow not on Coriolanus, whom you have seen, it may be, die in our defence, an equal portion of tears with yours for Alexander? If you consult my thoughts, replied Artemisa, you will be doubtless more affected than I thought you had been; for the marvels which I have observed in his person, during the little time that I have seen him, assisted by those you a few moments before related to me, of the great actions of his life, and Noble proofs of his love, makes me judge that you ought to deplore his loss, at least as much as I deplore my Alexander's; but after the Treatment you have given him in my presence, and the complaints I have heard you utter against his Infidelity (whereof you have given me no light by your Discourse) I imagined your Soul so overcharged, that there remained not the least favourable inclination for him; and though you were touched with the danger whereunto we saw him exposed, and whereof I myself was very sensible, yet generosity alone I supposed to be the cause, and not any relics of affection. Generosity alone (replied the afflicted Cleopatra) might certainly have produced this effect, and had my Soul never been touched with the least affection for the son of Juba, or had all that which his great Services could have introduced been torn up by his Infidelity, to the last root; I could not have seen him in the condition wherein we left him for our interests, without suffering great inquietudes for his safety, and without expending many tears for his death, if my cruel destiny commands that he suffer it for the love of me. But, Artemisa, believe that besides what we owe to generosity and compassion, the ancient and only affection which my Soul hath ever received, hath not left it tranquil enough, nor sufficiently dispolyed of all the tender resentments wherewith it inspired her; to see Coriolanus perish upon my account, with the same sensibility I should have for the rest of mankind. By his Infidelity he may root out of my Soul the sweet and acknowledging thoughts I bore him, and possess me with horror for his Perfidy, and cast me into a resolution of addicting my whole life to the consideration of my misfortune, without ever turning to the remembrance of the tokens of his love, unless it were to render his Treason more odious to me; yet scarce could it entirely blot out of my Soul the Character of an innocent affection, which I thought I had with reason received, and which I cannot retain but to my misfortune,  
But, my Sister (added the fair Artemisa) will you not tell me what Infidelity this is wherewith you reproach him, and whereof I have seen so little appearance in your Discourse, and much less in this Encounter, and the last actions of that Prince. I intended, answered the Princess, to have given you a Relation yesterday in the Wood, where we passed almost the whole day, and where we had this fatal meeting. I learned in that place, replied Artemisa, part of your Noble adventures, and you forgot nothing (as I believe) of the most memorable passages which happened until the wounding of Tiberius, and the leave which Coriolanus took of you in the Garden of Octavia, and his departure from Rome for Mauritania, to conquer the Kingdom of his Ancestors; it was just at this separation that our Discourse was interrupted so well as our walk, by meeting the sleeping Prince, and to a less adventure, I believe I had never consented to remit its continuation. Since my Discourse (answered Cleopatra) finished where you mention, it is certain you have heard nothing but what speaks advantageously of the love of Coriolanus, and would to Heaven that the gods had here terminated the course of my life; but in that part whereof you are ignorant (whose Relation I will no longer defer, if I have strength enough to make it, and you patience enough to give this intermedium to your grief) you will but too clearly behold this Infidelity, which composeth all the misfortune of my life, and which I should more bitterly detest, did I not fear that he who committed it, is dead for my sake, and if this fear did not make some part of my legitimate resentments give place to compassion.  
At these words the fair Princess was silent; and Artemisa, having not only testified that she would hearken with attention, but that her displeasures by this Discourse would receive a sensible allevation, she bethought herself some momencs on the order of her recital, which a little after she began on this manner.  

The Continuation of the History of the Princess Cleopatra.  
IT is certain, that before the unfortunate Voyage, wherein the Fidelity of Coriolanus was ship wracked, I had reason to be satisfied with all the Actions of his life, and even in those whereunto glory seemed to pretend with the greatest right. He always regarded me as his only mark; no! Glory itself could not rival me in his heart; for he in such a manner despised the powers which govern the Earth, and the offer which Emperor made him of the Crown of his Ancestors, and threw himself for my sake into perils so great and manifest, thatany one, less easy than me, would have been persuaded of the grandeur and verity of his affection. I can also say that I appeared not insensible at these proofs of his love, believing that the point to which it was come, and the virtue which I had always observed therein, might secure my acknowledging thereof without blame. So great it was and so true, that Coriolanus himself (reasonable as he then was) durst not demand more.  
I had, so well as he, refused very considerable establishments; and I had, so well as he, irritated the sovereign powers, without considering what I ought to fear or hope. It is true, his love made all the fortune, and all the designs of my life; and as I caused all my felicity to consist in the knowledge which I had of his affection, so I made it the whole employment of my thoughts to render him what I thought was his due, and to second with all my care the strong inclination which I had for him. Alas! how many tears did this true affection cost me at that mournful departure? How many did it cause me to expend, during the time of his dolorous absence? And what a Spring hath it for ever established in these eyes, which seem not to have been conserved but for this use only? What proofs gave I not to this ungrateful person of an inviolable affection and fidelity, when after the cure of Tiberius, I saw the persecutions of Livia begin again, arming against me more than ever the whole Authority of Augustus? With what constancy did I resist their flatteries, promises, and threatenings? And with what Resolution armed I not myself at last, when being reduced to the utmost extremities by the power of Cesar, I feared not to declare openly, how much I despised it, and to tell him in terms which rather expressed the Despair, than Courage of a Maid, that he ought not to hope for more from the Empire his Fortune had given him over mine, which when he endeavoured to abuse, I always knew where to find, after the example of the Queen my Mother, and mine own Courage, a Remedy to free me from his Tyranny.  
I was obliged to these bold words for an effect which I durst not hope for, and the Emperor was so affected with them, that from that moment he protested, That he would never use violence against the blood of Antony and Cleopatra; and that if the love and seruces of Tiberius could not overcome me, I was secure for the future from any thing that I could fear from him in favour of the Son of Livia. He punctually observed this promise, and on what manner soever Livia could solicit him for her Son, he would never permit them to employ any other Arms against me, than those ordinarily made use of to gain love.  
If this Justice of Augustus was pleasant to me amidst my displeasures, it was nothing less unpleasant to Tiberius; and whereas he but newly began to leave his Chamber, and would not in a long time be in a condition to receive an entire Cure, it had almost cast his life into the same danger from whence it was scarce crept out.  
He complained to the Empress, and accused Cesar's change with more passion than reason, and did all the things that were possible to cause him to revoke the promise which he made me; but he attempted it in vain, and though the Emperor and Empress by intreatics, made many essays to persuade me, yet their only Arms were sweetnesses and promises, and I heard no more threatenings.  
The Emperor was so much the more commendable for this observation of his word, having a few days after, according to his opinion, causes sufficiently legitimate, to render ill Offices to Coriolanus, by the News which he received of the Arrival of that Prince in Mauritania, and of the Revolt of that Kingdom in favour of its legitimate Prince. At first Cesar despised this News, not believing (what knowledge soever he had of the Valour and Prudence of the Son of Juba) that one man, without any other Forces than those whom he could arm by his presence, could do any great matters in a Country subject to the Roman Sceptre; and peaceably subjected for more than Twenty years; but a little after he heard of such beginnings, that made him something doubt the success, and that not only many Cities (having chased away, or devoured the Roman Garrisons) were fallen to his Party, and so given him the means of forming the Body of a formidable Army; but also that with those Troops, he had defeated Fourteen or fifteen Thousand men, conducted by Canidius, one of the Lieutenants of Volufius, Praetor of Mauritania.  
Cesar was moved in good earnest at this News, and vowed more solemnly than before, the destruction of Coriolanus, yet did always imagine that this Prince would be too weak to resist the Forces of Volusius.  
But though the Emperor was vexed at this success of Coriolanus' Arms, yet was it no dissatisfaction to me. Albeit the lustre of a Crown was incapable of adding any thing to the affection and esteem I bore him, and I found that in his single person, which I sought not in the recovery of his Ancestors Dignities. It is certain that having seen him depart to seek a Crown for me only, resolving (as he would say) not to abase the Daughter of Antony to the condition of a despoiled and miserable Prince. I could not without much joy receive the intelligence of these happy beginnings of his Enterprise, and too great were my concernments in his glory, to hear the recital of his brave actions, without taking therein that contentment which I ought. The generous Octavia (to whom I had descovered nothing of my knowledge of Coriolanus' design) believing she owed so much to the blood of Cesar, as to hinder her participating in the Counsel of his Enemies (having been always very affectionate to the interests of that Prince) made me an excellent Discourse upon this occasion, and half-confident that I was not ignorant of Coriolanus' Designs, she gave me thanks for not putting her discretion to so much hazard, between the respect she owed to Cesar, and the affection she bore to the interests of Coriolanus, which she believed to be mine also, assuring me continually▪ that what he had done against Cesar, had not made her his Enemy; and that she found so much Justice in his design of conserving Cleopatra, and recovering the Kingdom of his Ancestors, that it was impossible for her to condemn him.  
The Princesses her Daughters; as well those which were my Sisters by the Father's side, as those which she had by Marcellus her first Husband, loving me equally with a sincere amity, discovered their thoughts more openly, and freely, opening their hearts to me, they protested their hearty wishes were, That Coriolanus might ascend the Throne of Juba.  
But the Prince Marcellus their Brother interessed himself after another manner in the Affairs of his Friend, and although he made me a light complaint of the little confidence Coriolanus had put in him, yet he judged that his secrecy was an effect of his discretion, and the consideration he had for the Nephew of Cesar; he became so passionately solicitous for the success of this Enterprise, that if the often testimonies thereof had not been amongst persons well-effected to him, he had run the hazard of drawing some disgrace upon himself. Nor was he entirely exempted, for the Emperor who was not ignorant of their friendship, ask him one day what were his thoughts concerning the War of Mauritania? Marcellus (who could not entirely disguise them, though respect laid a constraint upon his tongue) answered, he was more troubled that Coriolanus had incurred the displeasure of Cesar, than he could be for the loss of Mauritania. The Emperor found this Discourse too obliging for his Enemy, and could not receive it from Marcellus, but with a frown; but a little after considering that Virtue had form this friendship between these two Princes, and knowing Marcellus, too well to suspect him of an intelligence, wherein there was any thing of base, he satisfied himself, with not calling him to the Council wherein they debated matters against his Friend, and went no further in any evil design against him, for his sidelity to his Friend in both Fortunes; and here the Emperor's great inclination for him, proved very advantageous to him.  
Livia and Tiberius failed not to improve this occasion with all their power, forgetting nothing that might persuade Cesar that Marcellus was not ignorant of his Friends designs.  
During this, Tiberius visited me with his ordinary persecutions, but with less pride and confidence in his Fortune, since the hopes were lost which he had placed in the Authority of Cesar; but though his designs had lost this advantage, they nevertheless received a considerable one in the absence of Coriolanus, and hearing him daily declared by the mouth of Cesar himself, an Enemy to the Roman Name and Empire, he hoped with great appearance that he would never return in a condition of obtaining Cleopatra to his prejudice, and that Cesar stirred by the hate he bore him, would do him the greatest of all displeasures, by depriving him of Cleopatra.  
Amidst these hopes wherein he founded his consolations, he rendered me very frequent Visits, and as his spirit is marvellous quick, he forgot nothing that might advance his own pretensions, or frustrate those of his Rivals. What advantages soever Coriolanus had in Mauritania (though be bore them an implacable envy) were pleasing to him, though displeasing to Cesar; and when the News came of his second Victory, against the two Lieutenants of Volusius, and of his taking many Towns, and the reduction of the greatest part of Mauritania, it became a Subject of hope and joy to him, though of grief and revenge to the Emperor.  
In effect, Augustus was so sensibly provoked by this News, that had he not found comfort in the assurances of Volusius, who promised within few days to fall upon that young African with Forces whom he should be uncapable to resist, he would have given public testimonies of his displeasure. Nor could he so well dissemble them, but that even to me he discovered some part, in terms sufficiently sharp, and I have heard since, that he was often upon the point of arresting me for a Hostage, believing that he possessed the better part of his Enemy, and should have an infallible means, either to punish him severely, or to oblige him to whatsoever he desired, so long as he held me in his power.  
In this mind he intended to have placed Guards upon me, and had done it, were it not for the entreaties of the Princess Octavia (for whom he always preserved a great respect) who was responsible for me, giving her word that I should not stir from her. Cesar, who had a marvellous confidence in the virtue of Octavia, was satisfied with this assurance for that time, and suffered me not to be at all worse treated, though he was very much solicited thereto by Livia.  
Marcellus endeavoured much for me on this occasion; but the poor Prince was sufficiently troubled for himself, and the inconstancy of Julia gave him business enough. This volatile Princess had then cast her eyes with too much concernment upon the young Drusus, Brother to Tiberius; and if the Emperor had not interposed his Authority in this quarrel, great disorders had ensued in Rome, which was divided between them, according to their different affections, And as Marcellus comforted me in my troubles, he also communicated to me his own; but I will not enlarge upon his adventures, which you shall learn when we have more time, I'll speak only of those that concern me; and that I may not draw my Discourse to a greater length on so distasteful a Subject, I will pass by things of less importance, to tell you, that at last the News came to Rome of the utter defeat of Volusius, of his being taken Prisoner, and of the entire reduction of the two Mauritania's, with the Crowning of Coriolanus, to whom the Africans had re-given the Name of Juba his Father, which he also received when he was born.  
I will not be large upon the Emperor's resentments, against which the Authority of Octavia could not so well defend me, but that I received order from the Emperor to keep my apartment, with a prohibition not to stir forth upon pain of a more severe imprisonment. Had it not been for the power of those who protected me, I had not escaped so well, and I protest I with ease enough endured this restraint, for the sweetness sake of its cause: In effect, I could not behold Coriolanus upon the Throne of his Ancestors, and upon a Throne obtained by so many brave Victories, and actions which placed his Glory incomparably more high than his Fortune, nor (if I may be permitted to speak it) flatter myself with the part which I therein pretended, through the assurances he had given me, and the testimonies I had received of his affection, without interessing myself as I ought, in this change of his condition. Lastly, I hoped with some joy to ascend with him to the dignities of our Fathers, and being assured that Octavia, my Brothers, and Marcellus (who were the only persons that either by Nature, or my own will, had any legitimate power over me) would not oppose my intentions towards him, I form my designs with a firm resolution to despise all obstacles which the malice of our Enemies, or the Authority of Augustus could interpose.  
Scarce had I received this important News by the common report, when Marcellus (who interessed himself no less than me) entered my Chamber. Presently I observed in his face a joy which he neither could, nor would dissemble in my presence, and testifying for the good success of the Affairs of his Friend, a Gaiery which he used not for his own: My Sister (said he) although I was not born in Africa, yet I come to render you the first homage, as Queen of Mauritania: But I fear (added he) that I too much abuse this liberty which it hath pleased you to give me; and lest the Name of Brother which you have grranted to the Son of Octavia, may derogate from the respect due to a great Queen. Brother (answered I with a smile) I am neither Queen of Mauritania, nor you in a condition to behold the greatest Queens with other respect, than that which your Civility will allow to their Sex. But your design is (continued I, answering to his Raillery) to teach us our duty, and that we ought no longer to call by the Name of Brother, a Prince destined to the Empire of the Universe; and who must, one day, Sovereignly dispose of our destinies.  
I receive this Discourse, replied Marcellus, as seriously as you make it, being unable to fear that you have an opinion bad enough of me, to believe that when this change shall happen in my condition, I shall diminish aught of the respect I shall bear whilst I live, to the Princess Cleopatra. But you foresee those things afar off, which in themselves are very doubtful, and which will not be perhaps in the dispose of Cesar, though he should continue his goodwill towards me; instead whereof, I speak to you of things already come to pass, finding no other distance between the Coronation of Juba, and yours, than the Tract of land which separates you, neither any other difficulties than those that you bring yourself. How knew you, said I, (speaking against my heart) but that this new dignity hath changed his inclinations; and the businesses of recovering and governing a great Kingdom, hath made him forget things of less importance?  
Ah Sister (replied Marcellus) how much do you injure him, if you imagine, that the cares of a Crown can be more important than the remembrance of Cleopatra, since I dare assure you in his stead, that the Empire of the whole World would be inconsiderable to his spirit, in respect of your affection. I was very joyful to observe in this Prince so many testimonies of affection for Coriolanus, and being willing to hold him longer upon this point: But is it possible, said I to him, that you perceive no diminution of your friendship towards that Prince, for that which he hath caused in an Empire destined for you? and when it shall come into your own hands, will you not behold him with an evil eye, that hath dismembered it of two so great Kingdoms.  
I have already told you, added Marcellus, that the possession of the Empire, is a thing whereof I have very little assurance through the change which may happen in Caesar's humour, or Dominion; but the gods are my Witnesses, that were it offered to me to day, I should receive thereby no greater joy, than to part it with my Friend; and I shall say no more, when I tell you, that him to whom I would yield Cleopatra, I would easily give the whole Empire. Ah my Brother (replied I, blushing at this Discourse) Cleopatra is not a price considerable in respect of the Empire; and though your bounty had made her so, she would have been very sorry to have made you lose, with the dignities which you possess the happiness you enjoy in the person of Julia.  
I spoke thus, because at that time he stood upon very good terms with Julia, and it was believed that the Emperor would shortly cause the Celebration of their Marriage. We were upon this point, when we were interrupted by the Princess Julia herself, who did me the honour to visit me, and as she then desired to testify a great deal of affection to Marcellus of whose joy for the advantages of his Friend she was not ignorant, she would not lose this occasion to let me see that her sentiments were conformable to those of the Prince she loved, though those who desired to stand well in Caesar's favour, durst not visit me at this time, which was to me a time of disgrace; but Julia might do it more commodiously, because I lodged in the house of her Aunt Octavia, whom she saw almost daily, and for whom the Emperor made extraordinary deferences. She testified to me at that time a hundred marks of satisfaction, which would have rendered her very criminal before Cesar, had they reached his ear; and as her spirit was very quick and ready, she forgot nothing which might persuade, that she had very much interest in the fortune of Juba.  
Marcellus testified much acknowledgement for this bounty, and it seemed that this meeting gave stronger bands to their love.  
Tiberius came to see me on the morrow, but made no mention of Coriolanus, not daring sufficiently to constrain his thoughts, to testify any joy at this good success; and having a spirit too subtle to speak before me, against a Prince, for whom my esteem and affection were public; yet could he not some days after, but touch upon it, and finding me in my ordinary coldness towards him: I will not believe, said he, that the ill-assured hope of a Crown, hath added any thing to the disdain which you have always showed towards me; and as your Courage is too great to raise yourself by things that are below you, so you have too much judgement to believe that Coriolanus can resist the puissance of the Emperor, armed against him; or that his condition is better upon that tottering Throne, than it was here in Rome, when he was honoured by the Amity and Protection of Cesar.  
It is not Fortune, replied I, for which I esteem men, and the change which Coriolanus hath and may receive, can add nothing to the sentiments which I have for him.  
Nevertheless you see, replied Tiberius, that the thoughts of his love possess not the upper place of his spirit, and he appears sufficiently hot, and busied about the Conquest of a Crown, to give you reason to believe that his strongest endeavours are not for the Service of Cleopatra. I will believe it so well as you (replied I smiling;) and I shall have but little reason to blame him for preferring a Crown before the possession of Cleopatra, who doubtless is not of value sufficient to be put in the Balance against a Crown. Ah! Madam, added Tiberius, were the Empire of the whole World offered to me, without doubt I should despise it for you; and you do me an infinite injury, in case you entertain any other thought of the affection of Tiberius. I will believe, said I coldly, that you are very generous, and that you give a sufficiently great proof thereof, in visiting a disgraced person, or rather a person, who, by the Command of Caesar, is forbidden to go out of her Apartment.  
It is just, replied Tiberius, (turning it into Gallantry) that she who enchains so many persons, should once in her life make trial of the condition of Prisoners; and you ought not to think it strange, that Caesar should make sure of an Enemy, by securing his better part, in frecing himself by such a Hostage, from the most dangerous of his practices.  
I could not but laugh at this Discourse, and beholding Tiberius a little more maliciously than I had done before: If, as you say (replied I) the highest endeavours of Coriolanus are not for the Service of Cleopatra; and if he preferreth the interest of a Crown before his affection to me, the Emperor troubles himself with an unnecessary precaution in detaining me, and there is little appearance, that a man hot and busied in the Conquest of a Kingdom, would lose his advantages to promote an interest of far less importance. Tiberius was a little confounded to be so taken by his own words; but his nimble spirit would have soon assisted him, if in that moment the Princess Octavia and her Daughters had not entered my Chamber, and with them Emilia, Sulpitia, and the fair and wise Cipassis, whom Julia a little before had drawn from the condition of a Slave into which she was fallen through the misfortune of War, placing her amongst the most beloved of her Maids. I give you this slight mention of that stranger, because, beside the advantages of her beauty which is excellent, she is one of the most virtuous, and most reasonable persons, I ever knew in my life, and one of those in whom (during the misfortune lately arrived to me) I have found my greatest consolation.  
But laying aside the Subject of this little digression, that I may come to the expected issue of my discourse; I must acquaint you that some time after the last Victory of Juba, and his establishment, Volusius, Praetor of Mauritania, whom he had overcome and taken Prisoner, and whose liberty he had granted since his Coronation, arrived at Rome.  
Before he came, it was doubted after what manner he would be received, and many who knew that the Mauritania's were lost, partly through his fault (as well by reason of his evil treating the Africans, as his negligence of so ill defending from the Prince the Countries under his Government) feared that the Emperor would show him no good countenance, or rather severely chastise him; but I know not by what good Fortune or intercession it was, but he was well enough received, and the Emperor seemed rather to compassionate, than accuse him. This bounty of Caesar was praised by all, and the Friends of Volusius visited him, and he again visited the most considerable persons of the Court. When became to kiss the hands of Octavia, she was in my Chamber, and there it was that she received his Visit.  
I protest, that knowing this man to come from Coriolanus, that he had heen his Prisoner, and one of the most signal marks of his Victory, I could not behold him without greatemotion; neither, if I may with modesty speak it, without taking some part of the advantages which my Prince had over him. I expected with impatience to hear him speak of him, nor was I long without this satisfaction; for after the first discourses of Civility, of his own accord he fell upon that of his misfortunes; and though he spoke of Juba, as of an Enemy who had deprived him of all, yet was it with so many Eulogies, that I could not but believe this man more sensible of the favours he had done him in the sweetness of his Prison, and the gift of his liberty, than of the injury he had suffered by the loss of so many men, divers Battles, and his Government; for in the months of virtuous persons, even their Enemies find their deserved praises. I was possessed with a marvellous satisfaction, in hearing him relate the wonderful Exploits of my Prince, with what order and prudence he had managed his design, and with what prodigious Valour he executed it, the Victories having been almost obtained by him only.  
Volusius spoke truly like a disinteressed person; and as he made no difficulty to tell us how he was overcome, and born to the Earth by the hand of Coriolanus, who thundered upon him, and assaulted him like lightning; so, nor did he forget to relate with what grandeur of courage he received him, and what care he took of the conservation of his life, what treatment full of sweetness he had received whilst he was in Prison, and with how much generosity he gave him his liberty; and lastly, with what moderation he received the happy change of his Fortune.  
The gods know whether these words of Volusius did not inflame the heart of the innocent Cleopatra, and whether in finding so many great qualities in the person she loved, she strongly confirmed not the gift she had made over of all her affections; I was a little troubled to see that in all the Relation which Volusius had made of Coriolanus, he mentioned nothing of me, neither signified that he had the least word to say to me from him. I took it for a very ill sign, but at last I found my consolation in this belief, that either the Son of Juba would not confer his secret with Uolusius, or that Volusius himself, in case he had any thing to tell me, would choose a more convenient time to acquit him of his Commission, than in the presence of Octavia, and so many other Witnesses, who might be suspected of no great correspondence with Coriolanus.  
But if I retained the first opinion, yet I quickly lost the last, seeing many days pass without a Visit either from Volusius, or a person of quality amongst the Moors named Themistales, who came to Rome with him.  
This, I protest, began to disquiet me, and reflecting upon the long time since I received any Letters from Coriolanus, though I believed it would be very difficult for him to find the means to do it with security; I here found myself labouring under a king of fear, which my good opinion of that Prince never till then had suffered to assault me. I did my endeavours to chase it away, and possibly it had produced no great effects, had I not a few days after received an entire knowledge of what I am going to relate.  
Volusius had been at Rome five or six days, and I found my Soul a little agitated by those diffidences which Coriolanus' silence had produced, when I observed in the generous Octavia (who daily visited me in my apartment, and from whence I was not permitted to go forth) a melancholy which gave me some little inquietudes, and taking the liberty to demand the cause: My Child, said she, we cannot be always satisfied, and often when Fortune appears most favourable, she is then preparing for us something most cruel. Is it possible, Madam, said I, that Fortune can disturb the Tranquillity of your life? I complain not of her, replied Octavia, but I counsel you not to trust in her, though I can assure you that you shall not be much longer a Prisoner, and I believe nothing at all suspected by Cesar.  
It is possible the would have said more, but at the instant there came one from the Emperor to speak with her; yet these few words cast multitudes of disquiet thoughts into my bosom, and were the Subject of a porfound revery for part of that day, being unable to imagine wherefore I should soon be unsuspected by Cesar, unless he were persuaded of my disinterest in the Affairs of Coriolanus.  
Tiberius failed not to see me that day, but said nothing that could any thing enlighten my doubts, and he was too subtle to let me understand from his mouth those truths which would be less suspected from another. At last, the gods would that I should have it from him, from whom of all men I should the least have expected it, for that Evening (the Candles being lighted) Marcellus entered my Chamber. Though there was less light than at Noonday, yet was it enough to let me behold in the face of that Prince all the marks of grief, or rather all the tokens of despair. He blushed, and waxed pale, almost at the same time; and from his eyes, lightning sometime seemed to proceed, and sometimes they were covered with darkness. He remained a good while (silent) upon the Chair where he sat; beholding me by turns with eyes full of grief and fury; and in a posture, which if it made me not fully divine my misfortune, at least it sufficiently signified that some great misfortune was come upon him, or that some disastrous News he had to tell me.  
Presently a shivering ran through all my veins, and his sadness communicating itself to me, my face in all things resembled his; I was about to have instructed myself further in what I ought to fear, and had already opened my mouth to satisfy my timorous curiosity, when breaking silence with violence; Ah my Sister, said he, must Marcellus bring you the first News of the infidelity of Coriolanus? And must he, who at the peril of his Fortune, hath hitherto defended him against the accusations of his Enemies, be the first to accuse him of the basest Treason, the heart of man is capable of conceiving? Ah perfidious man (pursued he, lifting bis eyes to Heaven) if thou wouldst that Marcellus should become neither thy Accuser nor thine Enemy, thou ought'st to have preserved thine innocence, and that virtue which was the band of our first affections, and not have interessed it as thou hast, in the double perfidy which thou hast committed both against thy Mistress, and thy Friend; thou knowest that he sufficiently abhors thy wickedness, not to conserve the least sentiment of esteem for thee, having committed such horrid things against the innocent Cleopatra.  
I was rather dead than alive, while he spoke thus; nor had I the Courage to interrupt him, or so much as to ask the cause of so strange and unthought of a change; but he perceiving my thoughts, My Sister, continued he with the same impetuosity, I shall say but little, when I tell you that the Son of Juba, formerly so dear to Marcellus, and so happy in the affection of Cleopatra, is the most ungrateful and unfaithful of all men, both towards Cleopatra, and towards Marcellus; and you will confess that his Treason exceeds in blackness the possibility of my expression, when you know that Volusius obtained not his liberty (being come to Rome with the principal men amongst the Mauritanians) but to treat of peace with Cesar, and to offer the submission and tribute which he receives from all the tributary Kings of the Empire, upon condition that he will grant him— My Sister, upon condition that he will grant him the Princess Julia for his Wife.  
Before Marcellus pronounced this cruel word, I thought he would have told me that Juba for some reason of State towards the maintaining his new Royalty, was married in Africa; and for that Act I could have only accused him of infidelity towards me; but seeing that instead of a perfidious man, the distance of whose person might have obscured some part of the ugliness of his fault, I found him impudent enough to publish it at Rome; even before the eyes, and in the bosom of his Mistress and Friend, this so surprised and confounded me (the change being so strange, and so unworthy of such a Prince) that it is impossible for words to represent my astonishment.  
Ah! Marcellus, cried I (being unable to resist this first shock) is it possible that what you tell me is true? What I say, is but too true, replied Marcellus, and would to the gods there remained any room for doubting a thing, which my belief resisted no less than yours; but you may be too easily resolved, for the Negotiation of Volusius and Theocles, in favour of this pretended Marriage, is at present a thing publicly known, and the Letters of Credence, with full power of concluding the peace, is in the hands of these two Agents; and had they found for the effect of their Negotiation, so much facility in the spirit of Cesar, as they hoped, Marcellus had ere this lost all his hopes of the possession of Julia, as Cleopatra must lose all which she had in the love of Coriolanus.—  
These (Sister) were the words of Marcellus, who also accompanied them with some tears, which produced such an effect upon my spirit, that I hardly avoided in those first moments, being carried to the utmost extremities. No certainly, all that constancy whereof I think I have given some testimonies, could not defend me against the most lively assaults of grief, and the greatest succours that it gave, were only sufficient to hinder its appearing in actions contrary to prudence, locking up my resentments with a violence which had like to have taken away my life. I cast upon Marcellus a regard wherein there appeared something Funest and deadly, and forcing through some sobs which opposed the passage of my voice; How, Brother, said I, hath Coriolanus betrayed us! And seeing that he held his eyes fixed upon the ground without answering, Just gods, continued I, liftings my hands to Heaven, have you patiently suffered so black a perfidy! I held my peace here, and Marcellus being buried in mournful thoughts so well as I, we kept for some time a silence. All that could assault a Soul disposed like mine, encompassed me on every side, and being engaged in the love of this ungrateful Prince, so far as virtue and innocence would permit me, it is certain that I could not understand his black Infidelity, and think upon that love which was almost born with me, and upon which I had bestowed the most precious moments of my life, and to which I had dedicated the remainder, to see it I say terminated by so strange a conclusion, without resenting a violence ready even to tear in pieces my Entrails.  
But if my affection excited passionate and tender motions, my glory interessed itself no less in the injury which I received; and as I thought myself able (to whatsoever height Fortune might raise him) to preserve the affections of that Prince by the sincerity of mine, I could not behold the gift which I had made over to him, without regarding his obl vion and disdain as an outrage unsupportable to a good Courage. So that my resentments against him (for my affections so cruelly betrayed, and for my glory so unworthily offended) made my spirit float in a Sea of sad thoughts; and though it expressed not itself by cries and imprecations against this ungrateful man, yet it began to open the source of this River of tears, which hath almost uncessantly slid from mine eyes ever since that cruel day.  
In that sad moment, they took their course from my Cheek over my hand which sustained it, along my Arm which was propped by that of the Chair, and were seconded by some sighs which I would not restrain before Marcellus, to whom my thoughts were not unknown. At last that Prince came from his profound study, and feeling himself touched with pity for my sake, so much as he was with anger for his own, he could not behold the sadness of my soul by that which appeared upon my face, without feeling a redoubling of his own, and rising from the place where he sat: My Sister (said he,) Coriolanus whilst faithful deserved your friendship, but Coriolanus unfaithful is unworthy of your tears, and the grief which you testify for his loss. Seek your consolations in your Courage, and your remedies in the knowledge of yourself; which will soon make you judge, that the ungrateful man hath done you a less sensible injury, than he hath done himself; and that to expose himself to shame and disdain, he hath himself overturned his most glorious Fortune. Moreover, he hath succeeded in his design according to his desert, for the Emperor hath not only rejected his Proposition with disdain, but beheld them with a frown who made it, and whose lives possibly had run a great hazard, had they not found a powerful protection in Rome.  
Hereupon seeing that I lent him a very peaceable Audience, and no other way interrupted him save by my sighs, he more at large related how Volusius and Theocles having demanded of the Emperor a particular Audience, and showed him their power sealed with the Seal-Royal of Mauritania. declared their charge which they had from the King Juba, which was, That although he entered the Dominions of his Father by Arms, and was in a condition of defending his Kingdoms against whatsoever Forces he could send, yet if it pleased the Emperor to honour him with his Alliance, and to grant him the Princess Julia for his wife, he would hold of him the Crown which he had Conquered, with the same Homage which he received from other Vassal-Kings and Tributaries to the Empire; adding this on his part, That he had not taken the liberty of making this demand, had he not believed that the Princess would not take it ill, and possibly would have no repugnance thereto. Marcellus pursued, that Cesar appeared much amazed at the Proposition, and having checked those that made it, in terms teaching them what fruit to expect from their Negotiation, he added: That he praised the gods that this man whose Arms he might have feared whilst he was virtuous, was now become so wicked and perfidious; and that since he had changed his inclinations, he doubted not the success of the War; that his Daughter was designed for him that should possess the Empire, and not for a barbarous African; Nay, and had he been born in the Throne of Romulus, he could not but with disdain have beheld a man unfaithful to his Mistress and his Friend. After this, he commanded Volusius never again to open his mouth upon this business, and Theocles to leave Rome within eight days; and that after they were gone, the Emperor related the business to Agrippa and Domitius, and all those that were with him, and within an hour after to Octavia, and that he was last of all advertized thereof by Caesar's own mouth, who could no longer keep secret from him the perfidy of his Friend, and who detested it as much as any of those that heard it, amongst all whom there was not one found who would speak a word to excuse it.  
Marcellus had time enough to make me this Discourse, and, instead of interrupting him, spoke not till he had done; at last, seeing that he expected from my mouth some knowledge of my resentments, promising to employ his whole life in our common vengeance algainst a man, for whom not long since he would willingly have laid it down. My dear Brother (said I with pain enough) I demand no vengeance neither from the gods nor you, upon the infidelity of Coriolanus; it is possible the gods are just enough to give it me without my desiring, or without your arming yourself against a man who even now was so dear to you. His intentions ('tis true) were equally evil both towards you and me, but the effects have been prejudicial to me only (if it be a misfortune for Cleopatra to have lost the perfidious Coriolanus) and that which he hath attempted against you, hath turned to his own confusion, since that in demanding Julia he hath not obtained her; and lastly, you will not lose Julia, though I have lost Coriolanus. So will you be revenged of his evil design against you, in conserving that which he would have unjustly taken from you, and in making him for ever lose the hopes of a good for which he hath forsaken me. This is all the punishment which I wish him, and if my resentments have endeavoured something against this, yet is it against my heart from whence I shall endeavour to tear the image of this unfaithful man. These words were accompanied by all the tokens of a true grief, and Marcellus who compassionated them, as well through the goodness of his Nature, as his interest in their cause, prepared to reply with vehemence, just as we saw Octavia enter the Chamber with the Princesses her Daughters, and the young Ptolemy my Brother.  
She would not bring me the News of my misfortune, though she heard it before Marcellus, and would speak no more than what she said in the morning, which had filled me with distrust; but then knowing that I had learned all from the Prince her Son, she spoke freely, testifying how great a part she took in my displeasures with all the tendernesses of a true Mother, and forgot nothing which she thought capable of bringing me any consolation.  
The Princesses her Daughters appeared no less officious, nor less afflicted than myself; and to have beheld the countenance of this illustrious Company, one would have judged them all to have had an equal interest in the Treason of Coriolanus; Nay, they were so generous, that they expressed more resentment against him for the injury he had done me, than for that which he would have done to Marcellus: And though they all possessed a great amity for Coriolanus, whilst he retained his innocence; yet could they not refuse to his Crime the detestation which it merited, endeavouring all together to persuade me, that a man capable of so great a wickedness, was unworthy my remembrance, or the sorrow which I testified at his loss.  
I answered nothing to their Discourse, and better expressed my grief (to persons who knew my humour) by my confusion and silence, than others would have done by cries and reproaches. When I was a little more at liberty, and that of all the Company, only the Prince Ptolemy my Brother remained in my Chamber, and the two Princesses Agrippina and Antonia, my Sisters, the Daughters of Antonia and Octavia, I no longer retained my tears, nor those complaints which I was able to utter, being amongst persons whose age and degree of Proximity permitted me to act without constraint, and to whom my love had been known and approved. My Sisters wiped away my tears, and out of compassion abundantly shed their own, and Ptolemy (young and boiling, though he had always a great amity for Coriolanus, and respect for his virtue) transported himself in Menaces against that Prince, and spoke of nothing but vengeance, and a reparation of the injury which I had received.  
At last, being left alone with my Maids, I laid me down upon the Bed, where I passed the rest of the Night in the most sad condition I was ever in in my life, and the cruel thoughts which tormented me, suffered not the access of one wink of sleep.  
As in all the former Actions of Coriolanus I had observed a marvellous Virtue, and as nothing could ever make me suspect, that he could be capable of the wickedness which he had committed, I could not be sufficiently astonished at so strange an alteration, or hardly credit a truth which I had nothing to allege against. All my endeavours were, that I might find some occasion of doubting; and certainly had my misfortunes been known only by some reports, or by any other than infallible truths, I should have suspected the artifices of Tiberius; but in actions so solemn as are the Negotiations of Princes and public Treaties, there was no reason to believ that a man of Volusius' quality amongst the Romans, and of Theocles his Rank amongst the Moors, would act without Authority, or address themselves to Cesar, with an imposture of so great importance: No, said I, it is not permitted thee to flatter thyself, and this Prince so charming: the beloved of the unfortunate Cleopatra, is too truly convinced; nothing can justify him, neither hath he the same care which thou hast for his justification; and herein he is more criminal against thee, in that he would have his Crime known to thee, and hath not sought either the obstacles of the Seas which separate us, or the deserts of his Africa to hide it from thine eyes, but must needs cause it to enter Rome as it were in Triumph by one of the most injurious proceedings that was ever practised amongst men, must thou needs expose me to the sight, indignity, and disdain, not only of the Romans but also of the whole world? Ah, Son of Juba, by which of mine actions have I merited this disgrace? If I am not possessed with qualities amiable enough to conserve thy affections, yet what couldst thou find in me worthy of this injurious treatment, and unworthy of the consideration and respect due to persons of my birth? If amongst the African-beauties thou hadst chosen one, who hath blotted out of thy Soul the impressions it received amongst the Romans; or if for the establishment of thy Monarchy, thou hadst been constrained to make the Maxims of thy State take place of those of thy love, I would have excused thy change so much as I could, and then I might have said, That either with reason thou hadst laid down thine Arms at the feet of a greater beauty than Cleopatra's, or that Cleopatra was not of value sufficient to be put in competition with the security of a Crown; but it is for neither of these reasons that thou hast forsaken me, and since 'tis for Julia that thou leavest me, it must follow that thy love took its birth in Rome, and not in Mauritania, and this love was Master of thy Soul: When thou appeared'st most passionate for me, even then when thou ranst to kill Tiberius, even then when in appearance for me only, thou braved'st the Emperor, and all the powers of the Empire; and at that time, when for me alone, thou generously refused'st the Kingdom of thy Father.  
Ah! No, Coriolanus (added I a little after) it is not the love of Julia that I ought to accuse for thy infidelity, neither Julia nor Cleopatra found place in the Soul of a Conqueror, and thou for sookest Cleopatra, not for Julia, but for the alliance and protection of Cesar, which thou judgest more advantagions towards the maintenance of thy new Monarchy, than the love of an unfortunate Princess. Ah! Coriolanus, whom I to my misfortune have too much loved, and whom, to my misfortune, I fear I shall never sufficietaly hate, since that Heaven, and thy cruel ingratitude, hath ordained that thou shalt never be mine, and that so many sweet and dear hopes are for ever rolled from me, return me at least, ungrateful man, those testimonies of mine innocent affection which were sometimes so precious to thee; return me those favours which (all pure and innocent as they were) are become criminal through thy Crime; return me (cruel man) return me those relics of my heart which thou detainest in despite of me, and which notwithstanding thy infidelity I cannot recover.  
With such thoughts was I miserably tormented, and I should not in a long time conclude, should I recite them all. The day appeared ere I could find any consolation, nor had I then left my Bed, had not Octavia sent to advertise me that the Emperor would see me, to whom, and to all those who knew not the secret of my heart, I was resolved to conceal some part of my grief.  
In order to this design, I did myself no little violence, and all that I could do, was a little to compose my countenance against Night, which was the time of the Emperor's Visit. Agrippa and Marcellus were with him; and, to give me the greater confirmation, he brought along Volusius and Theocles, the two Ministers of my griefs.  
I will not relate all the Discourses of the Emperor, I'll only tell you, that after he had sufficiently exaggerated the treason of Coriolanus, and showed the power which he had given to Theocles and Volusius to treat about the Peace and Marriage, and the Letter of Credence which he had written by himself, and all sealed with the Seal of the Kings of Mauritania; Cleopatra (added he) what part soever I take in the displeasure which you resent, I am not a little glad that you have nothing to do with our common Enemy; and, as I have a great consideration for your Virtue, and after the example of my Sister do esteem you, as though you were really my own Daughter; I protest unto you in sincerity; that my resentments against the Son of Juba, have received an increase by the Justice of yours, and that I will for the future pursue him, as well for the injury which he hath done you, as for that which I have received myself; leave the care of our common vengeance to me, and in the mean while rest assured that in me you shall always find a Protector and a Father, and one that will prosecute your interests as affectionately, as though you were the Daughter of Octavia.  
To these words he added many more full of love, and I received them with the acknowledgement and respect I ought, without saying any thing that might irritate him more against Coriolanus than he was already, which made him imagine that I drew some consolation from the vengeance he promised me.  
Volusius made me an ill-favoured Compliment for his proceedings, and told me, That what obligation soever he had upon him for the Courtesies which he received from Juba, he would not have taken the charge of his Commission, had he known my interest therein. I answered coldly to his Discourse, and the Emperor recalling in my presence the Command which he had laid upon him, never to speak more on this business whilst he lived, caused Theocles to draw near, and beholding him with an assured countenance: You may tell your Prince (said he) that had not his past actions rendered him unworthy of my Alliance, I would nevertheless have denied it to a man smutted with baseness and perfidy; and it would be little prudence in me to trust him, after he had betrayed his Mistress and his Friend. Let him maintain, if he can, his new Dominions, and expect a more full knowledge of my intentions by an Army of a Hundred thousand men, whom he shall see within a few days in his Country. Theocles took charge of this Commission, and after that day I have not heard that he was ever seen in Rome.  
In the mean time I was almost daily visited by Tiberius, and he failed not of his utmost endeavours to make his advantage of his Rival's Treason, but it succeeded not; and instead of his becoming more amiable in mine eyes, he appeared more odious than before, being unable to imagine any other cause thereof, than the bad humour into which the infidelity of Coriolanus had cast me, and by my belief, that since I was betrayed by a man whom I loved, and in whom till then I had found so much virtue and sincerity, I ought not to put any great confidence in a man whom I had always hated, and who had always appeared to me full of Malice and Artifice. At last, whatever was the cause, Tiberius could never get a good word from me; and though the Emperor took the pains to speak often to me in his favour, I so excused myself to him, that without angering him through my resistance to his will, I might give him little reason to conceive any hopes for Tiberius.  
Though the Emperor was displeased thereat, yet he testified no resentment against me, but hitherto exactly performed his promise of Protector and Father, so that I might have truly said, That on all occasions he made an affection for me appear, little different from that he bore the Princess Julia.  
During which, Marcellus (whose resentments against Coriolanus were violent) believed that he had also just ones against Julia; and though she had taken great pains to justify herself from the Accusation which was made against her of having favoured the design of Coriolanus, and testified that she had no repugnance thereto, Marcellus thought that he observed in her some constraint, through the care which she took therein, and finding some coldnesses in her, which he had not seen since their last reconciliation, he could not imagine any other cause, save the Proposition of the King of Mauritania, which he thought very capable of renewing the former flames of that Princess. As he communicated to me the greatest part of his thoughts, so he hid not this; and as I desired his repose, I did what I could to chase it out of his spirit; and it may be I should have obtained my end through the natural sweetness of Marcellus' spirit; but by misfortune he met with some who told him, that Julia had several private Conferences with Volusius, and that she had sent some Letters by Theocles when he left Rome. Julia always stiffly denied these things, but the report whether true or false, made great impressions upon Marcellus' spirit, taking away all the remainders of his repose, and threw him unto those violent resolutions against Coriolanus, which the remainders of his friendship had hitherto kept him from. This made him demand of the Emperor the Command of the Army which he sent against him; Tiberius endeavoured no less than he to obtain it, and employed all the Credit of Livia to be preferred before Marcellus: But neither of them obtained it, though all the World judged them very capable; and the Emperor having excluded them, either that neither might be jealous, or for some other considerations which he alleged to them, and gave it to Domitius Enobarbus an experienced Sea-Captain, and Illustrious by many brave Actions. It is true, that Agrippa might have obtained it rather than Domitius, or any other; but he expressed no desire thereof, and the Emperor knowing how well that great man had always loved Coriolanus, and finding that he had no great inclination to the charge, offered it not to him, but signified that he had business for him nearer his own person.  
This Army departed from Brindes, and sailed towards Africa with a full wind: and three days after, Marcellus and Tiberius, troubled for not having obtained the Command, departed from Rome. It was generally believed, that being unable to revenge the injuries they had received from Coriolanus, with the glory and advantage which they desired, they were gone to take an Account of him in any other place,  
I believed it so well as the rest, having heard them testify this design the one to the other; but be it what it will, they departed both of them without taking leave of me, neither of the Emperor, Livia, nor Octavia their Mothers, who were sensibly afflicted at their departure, but much more when they understood that they were gone without any Equipage which might make them known. They caused several to follow them for many days, but it was in vain, though the Emperor took great care therein, and testified much displeasure at the absence of Marcellus. I protest, I was not a little sensible thereof, being by his departure deprived of a very great consolation, though I was a little angry with him for going away without bidding me farewell, not thinking as afterwards I did, that he went so for fear of being detained: But if the absence of Marcellus afflicted me, that of Tiberius was a great comfort; and scarce could I receive a greater refreshment in my misfortunes, than to see myself delivered from a man whom I could not love, and by whom I was perpetually tormented.  
In the mean time (my dear Sister) I shall make no difficulty to tell you, that my resentments against Coriolanus' Infidelity were not capable of effacing from my memory, leaving there still remembrances so tender and so mournful, that I could easily see, that anger was not the strongest passion of my Soul. Were I with the Princess Antonia my Sister, whom I particularly loved for a Hundred Noble qualities which accompanied her beauty, and to whom I had hitherto discovered the most secret of my thoughts; or if Camillia were with me, which is she of my Maids in whom I have the greatest confidence; or were I alone (as I often sought the opportunity so to be) I continually bewailed the loss of a man whom I had infinitely loved in all his qualities; who had given me a Thousand gallant testimonies of his love, and upon whom I had for ever fastened my first and last affections; and although according to reason I ought to detest his remembrance, at least not to think upon him, but to abhor him; yet could I never get this power over my spirit, and as my affection was produced in process of time, and after a long knowledge, having contracted nothing of those irregular and turbulent motions which do often accompany the passions, it produced nothing impetuous or violent, and satisfied itself by undermining me with grief, and in consuming me with a perpetual languishing, without introducing either hate, rage, or the desires of vengeance. I made a strong resolution never to re-see that unfaithful man whilst I lived, though the gods and Fortune should permit (notwithstanding the distance which separated us) that he should ever present himself before me; and I employed all my strength to chase out of my Soul, what therein remained of this unhappy affection.  
But this was all that I endeavoured for my satisfaction, and the gods are my Witnesses, that I never demanded from them any Vengeance upon that ungrateful Prince, nor harboured the least wish against the prosperity of his Arms, and the establishment of his Fortune. Nay more, I could not but rejoice at the News of the gallant Victory obtained by Sea, against the Army of Enobarbus, whereby it was believed that his Dominions were for ever settled against all the powers of the Empire; and though I had no more reason to interest myself in his good and glorious success, yet could I not resist this inclination of my spirit, which could not behold them without emotion, and a favourable opinion. Let him overcome (would I say) let him triumph, let him reign gloriously, and let the Infidel prosper in all the designs that a just Ambition can inspire him with: I will behold his Victories, and the establishment of his Throne with wishes which my heart cannot refuse him; and this heart which once was so sensible of his love, can never be insensible of his interests. I wish that his Crown, whereof I ought to have part, and for which he hath doubtless forsaken me, may be so settled upon his Head, that nothing may ever shake it; and if I wish any trouble to this ungrateful man, it is only remorse of Conscience, when his Estates are peaceable.  
This was my resignation, which nevertheless could not prevent a lively resentment of all that grief could produce in a Soul so touched to the quick. I forced myself to dissemble in those Companies wherein I was constrained to be, but when I was at liberty, I retained neither my sighs, nor my tears, giving a free scope to all the effects of my afflictions. Alas! how many cruel Hours, how many Nights without sleep hath my sad thoughts made me spend? how many whole days have I given to my solitudes, to my complaints, and sometimes to reproaches.  
At last this sad course of life made the body partake of the spirit's disease, and I lost in a little time (with all my joy) a good part of my plumpness, and of that little beauty which I received from Heaven; I became pale and lean, and my eyes more sunk and dull than usual.  
Those who loved me, afflicted themselves more at this change than I did; and sometimes when I beheld it in a Glass, I could not but say with a sigh; Ah! King of Mauritania, how thou hast carried away the spoils of the innocent Cleopatra? How well thou knowest to triumph at once over the Arms of thy Enemies, and the beauty of that unfortunate Princess! Would to the gods this face had never been owner of greater Charms than these thy Infidelity hath left, or that they had never been powerful enough to kindle those unfortunate flames, which at this day are the cause of my deplorable destiny.  
On this manner I lived, when Augustus (having received with impatience and displeasure the News of the last Victory of Juba) resolved to leave Rome, partly to send Forces into Africa, and partly upon other Affairs, which called him into Greece, and from thence into the Provinces of Asia. His departure was much sooner than was believed, and because he desired that Octavia should take his Journey, and I living with her as her Daughter, had nothing that could dispense with my not following the Court: Beside, the Emperor treated me wonderful well since I was no longer suspected by him, and the Empress, to comply with him, showed much esteem and friendship to me; and I went with no other repugnance, than that of a multitude to my solitary disposition. We departed from Rome with all the great persons of the Empire, and took shipping; and the first place we touched at (after a prosperous Navigation) was Sicilia, where we made some abode at Syracuse, where the beauty of the walks that are about that City gave me some divertisement. In my walks I was ordinarily accompanied by my Sister Antonia, and some of my Maids, without greater attendance; and it was in one of these walks that an adventure happened unto me, which cruelly opened all my wounds, and an adventure so strange, that it will be difficult for you to imagine it.  
It was (my dear Sister,) that, whilst I walked with Antonia and Camillia, and in a little Wood near the famous Fountain of Arethusa, entertaining myself with the Infidelity of Coriolanus (what care soever I took to banish him from my remembrance.) That same Coriolanus whom I thought to be employed in gathering the fruits of his Victories, and governing his new Monarchy! That same Coriolanus, from whom I thought myself a great distance, presented himself before me.  
I know, Sister, you are amazed how to understand this fickle effect of my Fortune: Yes certainly I am astonished (replied Artemisa) and I so little expected this Encounter, that I cannot apprehend it without a great surprise. You may believe, replied Cleopatra, that I was no less surprised at so unexpected a sight, and that I often accused mine eyes of false information, when they represented my Soul a face, whose Character, in spite of my just resentments, I carried graven in my heart; but that which amazed me yet more, was, that this Infidel accosted me with as much assurance, as though he had been the most innocent man of the world, speaking to me in terms as passionate, as those he used at Rome: Treating me at last after the same manner, as though nothing had ever been heard, or as if he himself had never so much in all his life as thought on the Treason which he committed.  
Here the Princess related the long Conversation which she had with Coriolanus, in the same manner as Emilia had related it a few days before to Tiridates, repeating word by word all the Prince's Discourse, and forgot nothing of the cruel Answer which she gave him, and the rigorous words whereby she thought she had banished him her presence for ever; and when she was come so far, she proceeded on this manner.  
What just resentment sooner I had in my Soul, believe not (my Sister) but it was with some violence that I constrained myself to follow my just resolutions; I was armed with a most legitimate anger, and my wrath increased with reason at the sight of this perfidious man; but withall I could not behold that face formerly so beloved, the suppliant face of Coriolanus, neither hear the sound of that voice, which once so sweetly charmed me, without resenting extraordinary emotions, and such as could not assault a Soul without making a great impression therein.  
I retired with my Sister and Camillia into our Chariot, rather dead than alive; and having observed (as I thought) at our separation something deadly in the regards of Coriolanus, I was possessed with a fear accompanied with tenderness, that filled me with most cruel agitations. So long as the way lasted to Syracuse, I was not able to utter one word, and my Sister and Camillia who saw me in a condition so little capable of converse, kept themselves in the same posture, and opened not their mouths to interrupt those thoughts tormented my heart; but when we were in my Chamber, wherein I locked myself with them, without seeing any one else the rest of that day, and that time had a little reduced me out of my astonishment, beholding Antonia with eyes, from whence not withstanding all my constancy, tears prevented the first word I would have said: Well Sister (said I) what think you of this adventure? And what judge you of the Caprices of my miserable Fortune? I say (replied Antonia) that I was never more surprised in my lise, and my spirit is so entangled with what I have seen, that I know not what judgement to make thereon. But at last (added I with much pain) If the Encounter of the King of Mauritania be not an effect of Chance, what think you doth he come to seek with us? And what may be the design of so much pain and agitation, which we saw in his words and actions? Is it feigned? Is it Repentance? And lastly; What conformity hath these things with the Treason he hath committed?  
It will be difficult, replied Antonia, for me to comprehend any thing; but unless I am mistaken, I observed in the face, actions and words of Coriolanus such a confidence, which a criminal spirit is uncapable of; and so many Marks of a true passion, that I know not how to reconcile what I have seen, with what I have heard of his Infidelity; for, if we grant that he may dissemble his countenance and words, yet wherefore hath he left his Kingdom, and taken so long a Voyage to seek you? And what appearance is there that he would leave an Estate as yet little settled, and to whose Conversation his presence was absolutely necessary, that he would commit himself to the Mercy of the Seas, and run into the hands of his implacable Enemies, if he had no passion for you?  
What you say hath therein some veri-simility (said I) but Sister, we have not learned his Crime by simple suspicions or conjectures, and our knowledge thereof is of such a nature, that nothing can disprove it; and if we owe this meeting to design rather than hazard, and that Juba hath really left his Kingdom to see me, which he could not do without putting his life and his Estate in danger, that which I can believe as most likely and most advantageous for him, is, that having done violence to the love he bore me, that he might obtain the Alliance of Cesar, which he thought more advantageous than that of the house of Anthony; and having learned the bad success of his design, and the injurious refusal which the Emperor made of the Princess Julia, desparring of Julia, he is returned to Cleopatra; and being unable to obtain Julia, he had rather have the person, and it may be the Alliance of Cleopatra, than of an African.  
This is really my thought, and the only one I can have upon this Encounter; to which Antonia (convinced so well as I of Coriolanus' Infidelity, was constrained to submit, finding none more likely; only she blamed me for not giving him a longer Audience, believing that by a little further Discourse we might have been resolved in all our doubts.  
Since that day my thoughts, to my misfortune were more strongly fastened to the remembrance of Coriolanus than before, and I protest I looked upon him with less resentment and more tenderness than before, being unable to behold a prince, whom once I so dearly loved with all the marks of his former passion upon his face, and in his Discourses, without feeling some motions in a heart which had too much weakness for him. O sight! how fatal hast thou been to that little repose which I forced, to settle itself in my Soul! and how difficult hath it been since, for me to efface then the least Characters of this interview? Were I waking, or were I sleeping, the Idea presented itself always before me; nor could I, without some consolation, recollect the amorous and passionate words of that Prince; nor could I, without some grief, and perhaps, not without some Repentance, recollect my rigorous Reply, by which I supposed I had banished him for ever! Alas would I sometimes say, Is it possible that all the World is deceived? And that Coriolanus is as innocent in effect, as he would appear, and that the destiny of Cleopatra is changed. But alas, all my hopes are quite rooted up! and this ungrateful man hath been so unpitiful in his ungratitude, that he hath taken away even the least doubt wherewith I was permitted to flatter myself.  
Such Discourses, and others of the like Nature, took up my whole time during Cesar's Voyage; with whom, in a few days after, we departed from Syracuse, and visited Grecia and part of Asia. Upon Sea and Land, it was all one with me, and my pitiless grief kept me perpetual Company, so well in Asia as in Europe. And it is certain, that they have received a very sensible increase, through ill success of Coriolanus' Affairs, and what reason soever I have to be little interessed therein, yet could I not hear that in his absence he had lost his Kingdom without a double affliction, his Subjects who under so valiant a Leader, would doubtless have braved the Forces of the whole Empire, and had formerly under his Conduct appeared more than men, made less resistance now, than women, under the Roman Arms; and were most easily reduced under the Dominion of Augustus.  
I imagined (to increase my affliction) myself to have been the cause of this fatal absence of Coriolanus'; and though I could not comprehend what should hinder his return into Africa, having had time enough to go thither and defend his State, yet I believed myself partly to have been the cause of his misfortune, and that belief most cruelly redoubled my misfortunes. Ah! Son of Juba (have I often said) I have always feared that the gods would punish thee for thy Crime, but I call them to witness, that I never wished it, and that I cannot see thee despoiled of thy Kingdom, possibly a wand'ring Vagabond, without any assured retreat, without deploring thy misfortune, and interessing myself more therein, than my ungratitude deserveth. My just resentments are satisfied to see the troubled with some remorse, and punished by a vain Repentance; and it is upon thy heart, not upon thy fortune that I would be revenged.  
In these sad employments I traveled with Cesar, whom I saw every day, and the Empress also, who knowing the Emperor's intentions, appeared nothing sharp towards me for my ill treating Tiberius, neither opposed she the birth of her Sons (the young Drusus) passion for my Sister Antonia, to wards whom he began to show great testimonies of a virtuous affection, we received the knowledge thereof with satisfaction, as well for the present Fortune of the Sons of Livia, as for the Noble qualities of that young Prince who really possessed all that could render a man accomplished. He testified a sensible Repentance for the pretences he formerly had to Julia, and finding in Antonia a humour quite different from that of Caesar's Daughter, and with an excellent beauty a spirit full of prudence and sweetness, and a marvellous virtue, he became wholly hers, and began to make his Addresses with the approbation of Octavia and Cesar, and all those that were interessed therein. I also daily saw the Princess Julia, who failed not of the former testimonies of her friendship, and assured me by a Thousand Oaths that she contributed nothing to the infidelity of Coriolanus, and if it were so that that Prince had a real passion-for her, my interest, and that of Marcellus' (which she considered as she ought) would never have permitted her to have turned her eyes or thoughts upon him. All this while nothing was heard of Tiberius nor Marcellus, only they learned that they had not been in Mauritania.  
I will hold you no longer upon the recital of our Voyage, and you shall only know that leaving Cyprus for Alexandria, our Vessel sailing towards Egypt with a prosperous wind, the Princess Octavia desiring to visit the Empress, passed out of our Vessel into hers, accompanied by my Sisters; and I had waited upon her in this Visit, had not a little indisposition hindered me, obliging me to stay where I was with my Maids: You learned yesterday how we were attaqued by a furious Tempest, which dispersed all the Vessels of the Fleet; and ours having for two days resisted the waves with very little hopes, fell at last into the power of the King your Brother, from whom, instead of the succours we demanded, we had like to have received our deaths amongst many of the Passengers whom he slew; you know all that happened to me with him, the persecutions which I suffered by his love, the Captivity wherein he kept me, till by good Fortune I found the means of escaping, through the assistance of that valiant man whom I found with you, and whom I have learned since to be the Prince of Silicia.  
And lastly (my dear Sister) I had the good Fortune to find you, and to see the Prince Alexander my Brother, to know and be known of him; you saw our Caresses at so unthought on a meeting, and I received yours with much affection, when you knew that I was the Sister of Alexander; and when I learned from Alexander that you were the Princess to whom he owed his life, to whom he had given it, and to whom he had so great obligations. Our friendship form itself without difficulty, we remembered each other of the young years we had passed together at Alexandria, with the Queen Cleopatra my Mother; I learned your Fortunes by the mouth of my Brother, and you desired to know mine by my own. I related to you in the Wood where we walked, the most part of the accidents of my life, when by an Encounter, as little expected as that at Syracuse, that Coriolanus of whom I had spoken so much, who so possesseth my thoughts, and who had so great a concernment in our Discourse, presented himself again before me, and hath not only troubled my Soul, awaked the agitations of my spirit by this last Encounter, but also in the manifest danger wherein we have left him fight for our sakes (ungrateful and unfaithful as he is) he hath possessed me with so strong a grief, as that of having re-fallen into the hands of Artaxes.  
The afflicted Cleopatra thus ended her Discourse, and the mournful occasion whereon she ended, so touched her, that she could not but with tears accompany the sad conclusion. Artemisa would have comforted her, had she not been in so uncomfortable a condition herself; and although her own Affairs were capable of wholly filling her spirit, yet could they not hinder her from saying, joining tears together; I hope, my dear Sister, that the gods have delivered that Prince from the danger wherein we left him, having formerly done marvels in his favour, which may reasonably hinder our despairing of his safety; and if I durst (Sister) I would say that possibly you have more reason to interess yourself therein than you think, being unable to imagine, after your Relation of his life, and the effects of his love, but much more of that meeting at Syracuse, and this last, whereat I have been present myself, that that Prince can be entirely culpable of those Treasons wherewith you reproach him, and which makes all his misfortunes yours. All his Actions have so little correspondence with that infidelity, and he appeared with so much innocence both in his face and words, that I am the most deceived person in the World, if he be not rather betrayed than the Traitor, and if those appearances which have deceived you, be not some effect of the artifice of Tiberius. For although you have proofs apparently convincing) if Corlolanus hath forsaken you, what can be his design of seeking you at Syracuse, and at Alexandria with so much labour and danger? Wherefore hath he left a Kingdom, which with so much Travel he Conquered, to run to you alone? And wherefore, valiant and full of glory as he is, hath he abandoned the defence thereof, and suffered it to re-fall into the Enemy's hands, without drawing his Sword, and it may be without making a step towards its conservation, if it be true that the Kingdom is more considerable to him than Cleopatra? I told you before, replied the desolate Princess, that his last actions might proceed from his Repentance, and that Repentance cannot re-give him those affections which he ought to have kept by an entire fidelity. The fair Princess stopped at these words, whether it were to consider Artemisa's Discourse wherein she found some resemblance of truth and comfort, or that the violence of her griefs impeded her speech; but she was silent, and with sobs stopped the passage.    

The Eighth Part of CLEOPATRA.  
BOOK, II.  
AS this was the season of the shortest Nights of the year, the day began to appear before the Princess Cleopatra had finished her story, and many hours followed before grief would permit the access of sleep to the two Princesses: The sad posture of their Affairs was too apparent to the eyes of their remembrance, to permit an easy repose to their bodies; and if they slept at the last, it was rather a submission of Nature to their affrights and wearinesses, than any refreshment to their sad misfortunes.  
They were upon the point of sleeping, when on their other side of the partition which separated their Chamber from the rest of the Ship, they heard themselves named with the King of Armenia, which caused them to hearken with a little attention, supposing that in the condition they were in, they ought to neglect nothing; and they distinctly heard the voice of him who commanded the Vessel in the King's absence, questioning a man who was newly arrived: And well, Aristus (said he) in what condition is the King? And how hath he received the News of the surprise we have made? My Lord Megacles, rereplied Aristus, the health of the King is in a better posture than I could have hoped, and his wounds not only are not dangerous, but I hope they will permit him to come hither before to morrow Night. I know not how to express the joy he resented at the good News which I brought, how he Caressed me, and how many Recompenses he hath promised me; the excess of his joy had like to have been prejudicial to him, but I now believe it will prove an excellent remedy to advance his Cure; he hath spoken words, and done things, that have made me judge, there was never a more violent passion that his, for Cleopatra. But (replied Megacles) what are his thoughts for the Princess his Sister? And what said he, when you related how you met her? He testified very much joy, replied Aristus, and, if I am not deceived, his spirit towards that Princess is something sweetened; and I believe that the love he bears the Sister, will despose him to pardon Artemisa part of that Fault which she committed for the Brother.  
He uttered no Menaces against her, as I thought he would have done; and lastly, he made me conjecture by his actions and his words, that besides the satisfaction of recovering his Sister, he should receive thereby a notable advantage through his hopes of conserving her as a powerful Hostage, to procure the protection, and even the assistance of Alexander. All his words were full of Transports, and all his Discourses; commanding the safeguard of the Treasure which we had in our hands, as of a thing more precious to him than his Kingdom and life; and particularly hath ordained that we keep ourselves well concealed within this Rock, for the little time that we must stay, fearing with some appearance lest we be discovered, and so the Noble prey be taken out of our hand.  
This fear will make him hasten his departure, though it put his life in danger; and certainly, unless some accident happen to his wounds, that may prevent, he will be here to morrow, to provide for our Journey into our Country, so soon as he is in the Vessel. Besides his impatience of seeing the Princess Cleopatra, the fear of being surprised upon these Coasts if he stay longer, will precipitate his departure from a house where all the objects are mournful, the Master whereof, or at least him that possesseth it, and hath given a retreat to our King being dead after the most pitiful manner in the World, and hath possessed his Domestiques with so much regret, that the place resounds with nothing but cries and groans. But have you not learned (said Megacles) who was that charitable Host who bestowed so favourable a retreat upon our King? You will be astonished, replied Aristus, at what I am going to tell you. I was so myself, when, after the death of this man, his Servants, who had carefully concealed his Name whilst he lived, declared to us, that it was the Prince Tiridates, Brother to the King of Parthia, the same who sought a Sanctuary from Court to Court against the cruelty of the King his Brother, and the same who in his young years we saw under the protection of our Court. He died suddenly at some News (as they saw) which one of his Domestics brought him, and I believe that grief did never produce so prompt and marvellous an effect. I was with the King, who was giving me these Commissions, when one came and told him after how strange a fashion his Host was dying. The King to whom that Prince was discovered, and who also knew the King, was very much troubled; and notwithstanding the incommodity of his wounds, would needs assist at the last sighs of his life; and causing himself to be covered with some of his clothes, and leaning upon mine and my Companions Arm, he went into the Chamber of the poor Prince. He was just dead as we entered, and amongst those of the Domestics who drowned themselves in tears at his Bedside (through the assistance of many Torches which were lighted in the Chamber) we saw two men of the noblest Mine and presence in the World; the one sitting on the side of the Bed, holding one of the cold hands of that poor Prince; and the other who was but half-cloathed, and the paleness of whose face declared him to be sick, sat upon a Chair, which was just at his pillow; both of them testified a great grief for the death of Tiridates, and the King my Master having accompanied theirs with his, they a little after entered into Conversation. The life and death of that unfortunate Prince, (whose Name neither the one nor the other endeavoured to conceal now after he was gone) was the Subject of their Discourse; and, I protest, I heard those two men speak the bravest things, and after such a noble manner, upon the instability of Fortune, and the miseries of man's life, that ever I heard. They talked with the principal Officers of Tiridates, how his body might be transported into Parthia, that he might be buried in the Tomb of his Ancestors; and he that sat upon the Bedside, would that they should build him another Monument upon that shore, and writ with his own hand an Epitaph to be inscribed thereon. As for him of the two that sat upon the Bed (whose Mine and Conversation was sweet and charming) we knew him not. But the other who sat upon the Chair, whose Mine was more fierce though pale, so soon as we had seen him by the Torchlight, we observed some features in his face, which neither his paleness, nor the change which some years might have made, could conceal; but so soon as he opened his mouth, the tone of his voice was not less familiar to us: and my Master upon these suspicions beholding him with attention, perceived that the man beheld him with an earnestness no less than the Kings; perhaps the Torches would not have resolved their doubts, but a little after the day appeared, and the King through the incommodity of his wounds, being desirous to pass into his Chamber, and betake him to Bed; this man either through design or chance, arose at the same time, and went the same way; they met together upon a little Gallery, where the King stayed to see him pass by; he stood still also when he came where the King was, and they fixedly beheld each other in a place, where objects were easily discovered, and the daylight was great enough upon the Gallery to draw them out of their doubts; they beheld each other for some time without speaking, whether it were to confirm their opinions, or whether (being no longer doubtful of the Truth) they were uncertain how they should man age their knowledge; but at last that man (the most hardy of mankind) taking the word, Doubt not, said he to the King, if thou art Artaxes, but that I am Britomarus. These words opened the King eyes, and as naturally his Soul was sufficiently proud, he could not brook so fierce a dialect from a man of a quality so inferior to his: It is true, (said he) that in beholding thy face, I call to mind a man whom I have sometimes seen in my Service, neither have I forgotten, that after I had raised him by my favour to employments and dignities, to which he had no right to aspire, he quitted my party so soon as Fortune began to be mine Enemy.  
The audacious Britomarus beholding the King with a disdainful smile; As I followed thy party without any obligation (replied he) till by thy Cruelty, and unworthy Treating me, thou madest thyself unworthy of my Service; thou mayst easily judge what esteem I made of thy dignities, by my great unwillingness to forsake them; and if Fortune forsook thee when I did, thou needest not wonder that those Victories which thou heldest by my Sword only, should follow the same Sword that brought them. The King grew pale with anger at this Discourse, and impatiently supporting these audacious words of Britomarus; Time, said he, hath not abated thy pride; but were I in another condition, thou shouldst not speak with so little respect to the King of Armenia. Artaxes (replied he disdainfully) since our separation, I have seen more than one King humbled beneath me, and possibly thou shouldst soon be so thyself, had I not regard to the condition wherein I find thee, and to the remembrance of Arsinoe and Ariobarzanes. I know not what were the King's thoughts (to whom Britomarus' Valour was too well known to be despised) but both were without Swords, and ours were in the Chamber; but I believe this, their strange Conversation would at last have run to the utmost extremities, had not that man of the noble aspect, whom we left in the Chamber with Tiridates appeared upon the Gallery, and interposed between them, conjuring them not to make a greater disorder in a house wherein grief had already produced so mournful effects. Britomarus' received this entreaty in good part, and testifying by his proud face less choler than disdain, he retired with his Esquire that accompanied him into a Chamber which was at the end of the Gallery, and the King being in his, we did put him to Bed. He continued a good while most livelily touched at this Encounter, and I doubt not but he form many Designs against the life of Britomarus, which his feebleness would not permit him to execute.  
In the mean time the Unknown being called away, as I believe, by his Affairs, left order with the Officers of Tiridates, to prevent the meeting of the King and Britomarus, and they promised an exact care therein. The King meditating a long time both upon his anger and his love, at last considering his unability to express his resentments against Britomarus, and fearing that in case he called us to him to revenge him upon that valiant man, he should lose the occasions of keeping and carrying away the Princesses; for once he made his anger give place to his love, and deferring his revenge until another time, he sent me with Orders, that you carefully preserve the illustrious Prisoners, and commanded me to return to morrow a little late, to assist at his bringing hither.  
Thus finished the Armenian: and Megacles made reflection upon all that had been related, and particularly upon the Encounter of Britomarus; and the two Princesses, who had attentively harkened, learned by this Discourse some part of their Destiny. Cleopatra understood with much grief, that on the morrow they must leave the shore of Alexandria; and fall yet more into the power of that barbarous King; and Artemisa (though part of her fears diminished at the News of the King's milder inclinations towards her) yet could thence draw no consolation for her love, being unable to resolve without a mortal grief, to be separated (perhaps for ever) from her beloved Alexander; yet had not all hope forsaken them, that that day which Artaxes' wounds gave them, might be a day of succours through Alexander's means, and the assistance of those whom that Prince might draw to his succours in a Country which obeyed Cesar, and in a Country wherein the very Name of Cleopatra's Children was considerable; the two Princesses communicated this thought to each other, and (hearing neither of those two men speak whose Discourse was ended, or else they were in some other part of the Ship) thus began their sad entertainment on this adventure; and although in appearance they had enough to do with their own Fortunes without meddling with others, yet Cleopatra could not hear of the death of Tiridates (whom she had known at Rome, and whose virtue she had in great esteem) without a very sensible affliction, neither could Artemisa apprehend the Encounter which the King her Brother had with Britomarus, whose name and person was very well known, being drawn thereto by his brave Actions whilst he lived in Armenia, without interessing herself in the adventure. Cleopatra demanded who that hardy man was, who spoke to Kings with so much fierceness; and Artemisa, who had the same opinion of his virtue, as the rest of those that knew him, replied: It is a man, said she, who appeared like a bright Sun amongst the men of our Nation, and who (if the other Actions of his life do correspond with those of his youth) may deserve a condition as high and great as his ambition; we knew him but very young, our sensibility of his loss might make us say that he passed from us so swift as lightning; of a mean birth, he is great above Princes; and if Fortune answer his Valour and Virtue, he will soon receive from his Sword the Crowns which Fortune hath denied to his house. He is sierce and presumptuous beyond the bounds which his condition seem to prescribe; but that fierceness appears in him so naturally well placed that one cannot condemn it, nor imagine him any thing below the person he represents, These words stirred up the curiosity of Cleopatra to understand more of the Fortune of Britomarus, and Artemisa briefly related part of what he did in Armenia, and by her Discourse raised in that Princess as much esteem for him, as aversion for Artaxes at the recital of that cruel Action which caused Britomarus to leave his Service.  
After that the fair Princesses had spent some moments in this entertainment, they found their eyes heavy, and their bodies wearied and distempered through their long watching, so that permitting sleep to steal upon them, they gave some interval to their displeasures.  
Whilst they slept, and that Cleopatra's Maids slept also, or, careful of her repose, kept themselves in the Chamber with a profound silence; The Armenians who guarded the Vessel, endeavoured to acquit themselves exactly of their charge, and though they treated the two Princesses with all respect and deference, and took great care that they might be well served; yet they guarded them so carefully, and so prevented their discovery under the Rock, which quite hid them from those that on the shore might seek them; so that these lilustrious persons had but little hopes from thence. Megacles, who commanded in the King's absence, walked upon the Deck, giving orders to those that were about him, and on a sudden he thought some strange noise descended from the Top of the Rock (whose head shot itself out into the Sea further than the Ship.) At first neither he, nor those that were with him, could discern what it was; but a little after, advancing upon the upper part of the Vessel, and lending an attentive ear, they heard the voice of a man from the Top of that horrible Precipice, uttering these words: Implacable gods! (said he) Malicious men! Irreconcilable Fortune! it were insensibility to hope for any good from you; and since (to defend me against so many Enemies) Death only stretcheth forth her Arms, and that the miserable relics of this life are unprofitable for that end to which they were conserved: O Death, I willingly receive the assistance thou presentest.  
Scarce had Megacles, and those that were with him, heard the last of these words, when they saw him that pronounced them (cleaving the Air from the Top of the Rock) fall into the Sea, some four paces from the ship. The waves parted under his feet with a great noise, and rebounded higher than the Mast of the Vessel. The water was very deep, and that desperate man who threw himself into its bosom, being armed at all points, had quickly found his death, had not Megacles (though a Servant to a cruel King) been possessed with some pity and virtue, and commanded earnestly that they should do what they could to draw this man out of the pitiless waves. The Mariners who were Masters of their Trade, taking great Poles, headed with Crooks of Iron, sought him amongst the Sands with an admirable diligence. Had the success of their labours been less speedy, they had been utterly unprofitable; but; by great good Fortune, after some moment's search, they found the body (the weight of whose Armour had hindered its rising) and fastening their Irons in some default of the Arms, not without lightly wounding the bearer, they easily drew him up, and uniting their Forces, got him into the ship. Presently the natural compassion of men how barbarous soever, and the curiosity which so unordinary a spectacle raised, caused them to flock about him. Megacles commanding them to take off his Casque, the visit whereof was half lifted up, yet could perceive by his pale and meager face but few signs of life; but as he would not succour him by halves, he neglected nothing that might save him and by his orders whilst some disarmed him, others holding him up by the feet, gave passage for the salt water out of his mouth,  
He disgorged a great quantity, and when they supposed him entirely discharged, they laid him upon a Bed, and attended the effect of their succours.  
Presently Megacles knew they would not be unprofitable, and although the unknown came not quite to himself, he began to breathe freely, and to stir his Head, though with much weakness. Megacles gave him some spirits to drink, and either through the means of that, or what was done before, or both, a little after he he opened his eyes, and found his strength by little and little to return in some proportion.  
Had not Megacles understood this man's despair by his own words, which he uttered falling, he would have left him to take some necessary rest, but imagining that since he sought death, he would run to it again, were he left to his own dispose, he not only watched him, to prevent any second effects of his Despair, but resolved, if it were possible, to cure him by reason, and to persuade him of all those things that might give him some desire of life. He was confirmed the more in this Design, when with attention he cast his eyes upon the face of the unknown; for he believed that what he had done out of compassion, aught to be done to preserve a man of the best Mine he had ever seen. His face, though pale and changed, as well through the last effect of his Despair, as through the preceding displeasures, was form with a proportion so accomplished; the sweet and charming being raised by some things so great and high, that it was difficult to behold him without respect; the beauty of his body marvellously accorded with that of his face; and lastly, all his parts made an admirable accomplishment.  
Whilst Megacles ran over all those marvels with his eyes, the unknown began also to turn his towards the place where he stood, and opening his mouth so soon as he was able to speak: Ah miserable man (said he with a feeble voice) art thou then returned to this odious life; he stopped at these first words, and a little after easily recollecting all that had passed: O Coward, added he, thou hadst not reentered thy miseries, if of thy hand thou hadst demanded what the pitiless waves have refused thee; hadst thou considered that with the gods, men and fortune, even the Elements are become thy Enemies, thou hadst not unprofitably sought that assistance from the water which thou mightest have commanded from thy Sword. Finishing these words, he attentively beheld those that were about him, and not doubting but that it was they who drew him out of the water, he testified by some sighs, the little thanks he gave them for their officiousness. Megacles, who carefully interessed himself in his safety, sitting down by him, and pressing one of his hands between his with much affection: I know not, said he, what misfortunes have caused your Despair, and I imagine by all advantageous appearances, that you have courage enough to support all the ordinary assaults of Fortune; but whatsoever the cause be, that hath given you so much aversion to life, I cannot repent me of what I have done towards your preservation, and I shall do what lies in my power, not only to oppose your Design of dying, but to find what may render life less odious to you.  
The unknown beholding Megacles with an acknowledging Air (so well as the sad condition he was in would permit) and gently pressing the hand that held his: Your good intention (said he) hath obtained pardon for the injury you have done me, and I also beg your pardon, if I can give you no greater thanks for the care you take of my safety. These few words pronounced with an extraordinary grace, touched the heart of Megacles, and becoming more affectionate towards what he had undertaken: Is it possible, added he, that such a man as you appear to be, can find in Death only a remedy of his misfortunes, and have you not resolution enough to resist Fortune, having so much as to precipitate yourself into a terrible Death. The horrors of life, when the causes are legitimate (sadly replied the unknown) proceed not always from want of courage; and those that can voluntarily expose themselves to Death, as you say, may easier resist lesser evils than Death is in the opinion of most men: but I believe there are causes that can render Despair honourable; and though it be weakness and a shame to fly to Death for the loss of some goods, or advantages of fortune; yet it is honourable to embrace it rather than survive one's glory, or the loss of a beloved person. We have familiar examples enough thereof in our age, and they are great persons, such as Antony, Cato, and Brutus, who have sought this last remedy, either to avoid shame, or to yield to the anger of Heaven, and not to the assaults of Fortune, fitter for feeble souls and ordinary persons.  
The Examples which you allege, replied Megacles, have found but few that have approved them, and many that have condemned them; and though it be confessed that Anthony could no longer live with glory after the loss of the Empire, neither Cato nor Brutus after the ruin of their party; yet it must be granted, that fear of their Enemis, and their evil Fortune, made them forsake that which they durst no longer defend, and run to Death as an evil much less, than the terror thereof imprinted into their affrighted spirits, whereas had they marched with their heads erected against their destiny, and had endured until the end, all Fortune, or the anger of Heaven had prepared for them, they had left a more Noble reputation to posterity, and had been taken for constant and undaunted, for unalterable in good and evil Fortune.  
Well, replied the unknown with a sigh, if it be a weakness to seek Death, it must be pardoned to our Nature, which hath no more strength than Heaven hath given it; for my part I will neither justify nor condemn them that have preceded me herein; it sufficeth to believe, that life being to me an unsupportable evil to the indifferent strengths of my spirits, I have no more reason to preserve it, than a Captive to carry his Chains which he may break. Nevertheless, replied Megacles, in case your Despair proceed not from some loss which the gods themselves cannot repair, you ought a little to wait their leisure, and there is little reason to believe that the gods do consent to your Death, or that they preserve you not to a better Fortune; for were it so, they would have suffered you to perish in that danger from whence you are miraculously escaped. Of so many kinds of death, that you might have chosen, they would have inspired you with another, and rather to any of the Rocks that surround the shore would they have directed you, than to this you have chosen, because perhaps beneath them, you would not have found the succours we have given you. This is a visible obstacle that Heaven hath cast in your way, testifying that it disapproves it, and I certainly believe it intends some change in your Destiny since it hath hindered it. I exceedingly desire through the interest I take in your life, and my advantageous opinion of you, that these considerations may arrest your Despair; but if they are uncapable so to do, and if you think that the assistance I have given you, deserveth any acknowledgement, and gives me right to demand any thing, I beseech you earnestly to receive our Services, and to attempt nothing against your life, whilst you are with us; we will in time obtain more, if it may be done without importuning you; but in the mean time give me your word, if you think the Service I have done you, merits any satisfaction. The unknown remained for some time without reply to the obliging words of Megacles, but at length beholding him with an Actions which testified his acknowledgement, I should be too ungrateful (said he) for your good intentions for my safety, and the pains you take for a miserable Unknown, the Butt of angry Heaven and Fortune, if I consider not your desire and entreaties; but I could wish you had asked something else in recompense of your goodness, rather than the prolongation of this miserable life; but since from such an unhappy person as I am, you can receive no other mark of acknowledgement, nor any thing which it may be, would be more hard for me to grant; I promise you to enterprise nothing against that life which I owe you, so long as I am with you. I believe it will not be long, but be it so long as it will, I will exactly perform my promise.  
After this assurance, which much rejoiced Megacles, the unknown nothing opposed the care they took of him, permitting them to take away his wet garment, and put him to Bed, that he might receive some refreshment after the great quantity of salt water which he had swallowed down.  
Megacles having ordered things towards the assistance of the unknown, went to pass into the Princess' Chamber, whom he served with much assiduity, and secure caution, In the displeasure they received through his means, he endeavoured to render himself the least odious he could possibly; and he the rather hoped it, for that he was not of the Number of those who forced them from the shore the day before; for the King his Master knowing his little inclination to violent Actions, and that he had ordinarily a contradiction of spirit thereto, commanded that he should stay and keep the Vessel (which was no less important for his return) whilst those that he had appointed for the Rape of Cleopatra, prepared themselves to execute his Orders. Megacles failed not to let the Princesses understand his justification, and Artemisa, to whom his quality and manners were known, forgot not to give a favourable testimony thereof to Cleopatra, believing that in the condition wherein both of them at present were; they might need this men's assistance, and that they ought not to neglect complying with him.  
Cleopatra, who with a grandeur of courage, elevated above the rest of her Sex, had an allay of sweetness, gratitude and equity, easily discerned that he disobliged her only out of fear; and if she did not greatly caress Megacles, it was through her Souls total occupation upon its own misfortunes, rather than any particular resentment. Megacles entered not their Chamber till he heard they were up, and that it was necessary to solicit them to some repast.  
The two Princesses sat upon the Bed where they had passed the Night, and Megacles having bid them good morrow, with a profound respect, addressing himself to Artemisa (to whom he had the most access) he besought her in the most pressing manner he could possible, that she would not destroy herself with hunger, whilst she was in his guard, but receive the food he offered, not as from an Enemy, since she knew he never had deserved it; and that of all the miseries the King had inflicted on her, there was not one proceeding from his Counsel. Artemisa, who saw the truth of what was said, receive him with much Civility, and as she interessed herself in Cleopatra's health more than in her own, she consented to oblige her thereto. So that both rifing from the Bed, refreshed themselves with a light repast; which done, though languishing and sick as they were, they entered into some converse with Megacles, who was a man of spirit and agreeable converse, and knew of much the more though his extraordinary Travels, having visited the Courts of many Kings both in Asia and in Europe. It was by Discourses of his Voyages that the Princess Artemisa desired him to divert part of Cleopatra s sadness, and Megacles being willing to satisfy them, related manythings worth attention, and capable of charming some part of their griess; but when he had described what he had seen most memorable in the Courts of Capadocia, Cilicia, Mesopotamia, Thracia, and many other Kingdoms; and having told them that he passed the Bosphorus, entering and making a considerable stay in Scythia, Cleopatra interrupting him hattily, That Alcamenes King of Scythia of whom you speak (said she) and whose Actions have given him the surname of, Great, is now with Augustus (unless the Tempest by which we had almost suffered Shipwreck hath divided them) and is to accompany him to Alexandria. It is very strange, replied Megacles, that so great a Prince as the King of Scythia, who hath no dependence upon the Empire, and who knows no greater than himself in the world, except the Emperor of the Romans, and the King of Parthia, should put himself into the power of another Prince, it being a thing never done but with great formalities and precautions, The Reputation of Cesar (replied Cleopatra) and the free spirit of Alcamenes, hath made him infringe these considerations; and the King of Scythia, in whom the glory of Augustus hath raised a great emulation, and passion to see him, having learned that he must go into Macedonia, sent Ambassadors to demand his Alliance and Friendship, and to tell him, That if he would give him his word, he would pass over the Custom of the Kings his Predecessors who never passed their own bounds, unless to make War, and come into Macedonia, that he might see the greatest man of the world, and the worthy Successor of great Cesar, who had filled the whole Earth with his glory. Augustus' believing himself obliged by the Civility of that King, whose Ancestors never feared the Roman Armies, and having heard marvels related of him (notwithstanding the great distance between, and the little communication that the Romans have with the Scythians) he testified a great desire of knowing him, and also believed that his Alliance could not but be profitable towards the establishment of the Empire. Upon this account he honourably received the Ambassadors, and replied by Decimus Fabius, whom he sent back with them, that he should with joy receive the offers of his friendship, that he had a great desire to see a Prince, whose fair Reputation had often reached his ear, and he not only gave him his word, which nothing was able to alter, but in case he desired it: he would advance himself, and contract the way to see him. With this Answer, the Emperor ordered that Livia should send a magnificent Present to the Queen his Wife, whose name and adventures are no less known, than that of the King her Husband. Alcamenes entirely confident in the Emperor's word, having left the government of his Kingdoms to the Queen, who is no less capable thereof than the bravest men, departed thence accompanied only by Five hundred Horse, and came to find Cesar in Pella, the capital City of Macedonia. The Emperor made him a most honourable Reception, and treated him with much more deference than he ever testified to any other King, and in my opinion his esteem was very just; for beside that the Mine of this Prince is as good as any I have seen, all things in him appear so great, that he hath much more of the Hero, and of the Demigods of Antiquity, than of ordinary men. Had you heard, replied Megacles the Relation of his admirable Adventures, you would have beheld him as a person much more extraordinary; for before he came to the Crown, there happened to him in the course of his Loves, things so little common, that were not the memory thereof fresh, and the testimonies public, they would be rather taken for Antique Fables, than real Truths. I believe that the distance and little Commerce between the Scythians, and other Nations, may have deprived you of part; yet I believe not so, but that you have heard mention thereof.  
It is true, replied the Princess, I have heard of many valiant and amorous Deeds which have rendered this Prince famous in many parts of the World; but what I have heard, hath been confusedly related, and I know not whether my Sister (said she looking upon Artemisa) hath had any clearer knowledge. I have heard many things, replied Artemisa, but with as little order as you, and I doubt not, but if you have a desire to know the particularities, Meglacles can give you a full information, knowing that he is too curious, and too intelligent, not to have learned them whilst he stayed in Scythia.  
It is true (replied Megacles) that there are few persons in the World who know those passages better than myself, having taken care to inform myself even to the least circumstances; and if, Great Princesses, you will both promise me to receive the recital as some refreshment to your griefs, or at least, whilst the Relation lasts to suspend some part thereof, I will do my endeavour to relate things worthy your attention.  
Cleopatra and Artemisa being willing to be acquainted with those Adventures which had made so great a noise in the World, promised Megacles what he demanded, and he being willing to comply with them so much as he could possible, having taken a Seat at their command, he thus began the expected Discourse.  

THE HISTORY OF ALCAMENES and MENALIPPA.  
BOOK. I.  
THE adventures which I take upon me to relate, are not such as arrive in the courses of ordinary lives, and principally to great Princes, such as Alcamenes; who, by his birth, and the rank he holds amongst the most puissant Kings, seems that he ought not to be exposed to particular Accidents, more proportionate to the fortunes of a private man, than to that of a Monarch; of whom likely the most remarkable actions ought to pass, at the head of Armies, in a splendour conformable to their Dignity.  
The Scythian Monarch, as you know, is not only the most ancient of the world, but also the greatest and most puissant: and, after the Roman Emperor, and the King of Parthia, there is no Sovereign that possesseth a greater Country than the Scythian King, nor who commands a more Warlike people. Never could the greatest Conqueror amongst either the Greeks or the Romans, extend their limits upon the Frontiers of Scythia; neither did ever the most powerful, or the most happy, carry a War thither, but to their own confusion. I will not give you a description of this Kingdom, nor of the manners of the Inhabitants, 'tis known to all the Earth, and few persons are ignorant of the valour, policy, and simplicity of the ancient Scythians, or those now living. I will only add, that what hath been reported of their former poverty, will appear otherwise at present; and although the Scythians affect less pomp, ceremonies and riches, than many other Nations, are nevertheless sufficiently proud in their Arms, Equipages, beautiful Cities, and fair Houses; and inhabit not Tents and Chariots, but when they march in the body of an Army. I will say no more of a people, who have but a small part in this History; and as it altogether for Alcamenes, I will not enlarge but upon the recital of his particular actions.  
During the nonage of this Prince, the King Arontes his Father, (a great and redoubted Warrior, who died lately, and during whose reign, the most remarkable of his Sons adventures happened) had a long and bloody War with Decebalus King of Dacia, and the fields of either King had often blushed with the blood of their miserable subjects.  
The Kingdom of Dacia was formerly obscure, and of an indifferent consideration. But this at present very potent, and its Princes may keep file, with the greatest Sovereigns of either Asia or Europe. To the ancient Dominions of the Dacians, are added (either by conquest or alliance) the Geteses and the Gelones; and it was, as I suppose, about the Tribute that the Scythian King demanded of these Nations, which bred the quarrel. But be the original what it will, the process was cruel, and for some time doubtful, but at length the King of Dacia sunk under the Arms of the Scythians, and was killed by the King Arontes's own hand, in a battle fought on the Frontiers of his Country. Arontes, after this Victory, was in a capacity to have extended his Arms over the Dacian Territories; but he contented himself with the advantages he had, without seeking greater, conforming his Ambition to the custom of his Predecessors, who have always believed they could not, without a crime, invade their Neighbours Possessions; He therefore granted to the Widow of Decebalus, the truce she demanded, keeping himself peaceably within his own limits, and governing his subjects with all justice and moderation.  
But the Queen Amalthea (that was the name of Decebalus' Widow) retaining an inconsolable grief for the death of her Husband, and breathing nothing but revenge, was not appeased by the moderation of her enemy, forgetting none of her resentments, though the evil state of affairs forced her to dissemble them; and also her impuissance to continue a war, the success whereof had been already so mournful.  
The only testimony of her marriage, was a daughter, then about five or six years old, fair amongst the marvellous beauties of the universe, and born with an extraordinary spirit and grandeur of courage; The afflicted Queen sought in this little Princess all her consolation, and in her founded all the hope of her premeditated revenge, supposing this growing beauty when it ripened to perfection, would enslave all the Neighbour Princes, and arm them in her quarrel. The Princess, whose high spirit made her easily consent to the resentments of her Mother, refused not to make those advantages, which she had received from Nature, the incendiaries of that revenge they both equally breathed.  
In this Hope was the young Menalippa educated, with all that care could do to advance the design of making her a most accomplished person, neglecting nothing that might acquire spiritual ornaments, to accompany those of her beauty: Like a young Lioness, the Queen brought her up, inspiring her always with more of the Fierce than the Sweet, and during her infancy, she never heard the name of Arontes pronounced, but with hatred and horror; Her recreations were framed after a sort, little common to her sex, and seeing she was of a vigorous strong complexion, and an extraordinary stature, they made her practise the most violent exercises, to ride so soon as she was able to sit, and chase the savage Beasts with bow and arrows; and if she were not entirely an Amazon, at least she was capable of those Martial women practices, who till Alexander's time inhabited Asia with so much reputation.  
Menalippa marvellously seconded the designs of the Queen her Mother, fair to the admiration of all those that saw her, her spirit tempered with all the Graces that excellent education can add to excellent Naturals; her body accustomed to violent exercises, with as much force as those of the strongest men; her heart, naturally high and proud, easily received those fierce impressions from her Mother's inspiration, and withal, as much hatred to the person, name, and house of her father's murderer, as she could desire; when the Queen saw her such a one as she wished, she concealed her intentions no longer, but practising for succour with her Allies and Neighbours, to make a puissant expedition, she proposed the fair Menalippa, who (besides the Marvels of her person, was heir to a potent Monarchy) the price of that vengeance she continually breathed, not scrupling to promise her to that Prince, who with the greatest power, and most fortunate success, would aid her against her enemy.  
Whilst Menalippa was thus nurtured in Dacia, the King of Scythia, to whom the Gods had given but one Son, older than Menalippa by two years; this young Prince employed all his study, to render himself conformable by education to those hopes were conceived of him; and certainly it was not without reason that they expected Marvels from him, since Heaven seemed to have inspired this young Prince with whatsoever might entitle him admirable. I shall add nothing, Madam, to what you have said concerning his good Mine, which certainly might dispute precedence with all those I have ever seen of great or majestic in the whole course of my Travels; his spirit is excellent, lively and active, his soul adorned with all the virtues; and formed, with the most beautiful and grand inclinations; but you will know him better by my relation, than any description I can make of him.  
This young Prince so happily seconded the designs of the King his father, that at the age of fifteen years, he not only rendered himself more knowing in all sorts of exercise than his teachers, but also appeared at these years the strongest man of Scythia, in all exercises wherein address and force of body could show it, doing things which made all that saw him, judge, that at a more advanced age, he would surpass all those whom antiquity had presented for the most famous. But in a short time he gave more authentic proofs; for scarce had he attained the seventeenth year, when the King his father was obliged to march against the Masagetes (who were in Arms through the inspiration of the Queen of Dacia and her Allies.) And being willing to teach his Son his trade, gave him the command of a part of his Army; he did, in this Employ, things surpassing belief, defeated the enemy in three or four Combats, such as might pass for Battles, testifying a marvellous Conduct, and excellent intelligence, in an occupation which he had but begun to practise; he had always the glory to have killed the Chiefs with his own hands, at the head of their Troops, and did things in his own person so astonishing, that the Scythians compared him to Achilles, Theseus, and the fabulous Heroes of Antiquity; and, a little after, the King his father being retired, having left him the sole command of the Army, he gained a memorable Victory, terminating that War by the most glorious successes could be desired.  
These marvellous beginnings famed the reputation of Alcamenes through all the neighbour Kingdoms; they talked every where of Alcamenes, as of a prodigy of valour, and the noise overtaking all places, arrived in Dacia, possessing the irritated Queen with a mortal displeasure, fearing this young Prince as a potent obstacle to her designs, of one day possessing his father's Territories, and this rendered the name of Alcamenes both to the Mother, and to the Daughter, as odious as that of the King his father.  
The Scythian Monarch, who had a great and generous soul, viewed with an incredible joy these transcendent actions of Alcamenes, and beholding in him nothing but grand and elevated above the rest of mankind, treated him as an extraordinary Son, a Son given by Heaven, for the glory and consolation of his days; and as a Prince, who would bear the honour of Soythia to a higher degree than it ever yet arrived; and moreover, being acquainted with the Queen of Dacia's practices, and the preparations she made against him (who with those succours she hoped to draw by her Daughter's beauty, was not to be despised) he believed himself furnished (in the person of Alcamenes) with a valiant desender, and disdained more than formerly, the evil designs of his adversaries.  
He had often spoken of it to the Prince, and perceived him burn with a generous resentment against those enemies of his Family, and a vehement desire to measure his Sword with whomsoever the persuasions of Amalthea, or the beauty of Menalippa, had armed against his father, desiring rather to carry the War into the enemy's Country, than expect it in their own. The King, who was as moderate as valiant, and who now loved peace as well as formerly he had done the Wars, reproved without condemning the noble heat of his Son, alleging that he ought (after the examples of his Predecessors) contain himself within the justice of his cause, and expect the enemy's onset before he endeavoured their ruin; and besides he had compassion on a Queen, whose resentments could not be condemned, though they were not entirely reasonable, and who transacted more through the love she bore her husband, than out of any hope she could conceive to conquer Scythia. Alcamenes, in whom generous resentments found all manner of approbation, troubled not himself to combat these reasons, and easily excusing the revenge of Amalthea and Menalippa, both through the respect he bore to their sex, and by the report he heard of the beauty of the Daugther, and virtue of the Mother; so that turning his anger against those Princes who had embraced their interest, he no more solicited the King his father to begin this War.  
Besides this consideration, which prevailed upon the spirits of these two Princes; they understood that the irritated Queen, instead of being in a condition to fight them, was embarked in another War against the Prince of the Sarmates, and the Prince of the Nomads, upon some dispute they had with Amalthea, about the extent of their Frontiers.  
The King Arontes might have taken this advantage against his Enemy, and others (possibly) would have done it, but he judged it unworthy his courage; and the Prince his Son, boiling as he was for occasions to get glory, had not the least thought to lay hold on this advantage.  
But although the King of Scythia tasted the greatest satisfaction in the company of a Son so brave and so lovely, he was forced to part with him through the necessities of his affairs, and ordered him a journey into some Provinces, where the Father's or Son's presence were absolutely necessary.  
Alcamenes departed from Palena (where the King then made his abode) and transported himself into those places whither he was sent; by his presence he reduced all things into an entire tranquillity.  
But having bravely acquitted himself of his Commission, given by the King his Father, instead of returning where he was expected, he found himself pressed with an ardent desire to travel, and visit (unknown) some stranger Courts; few persons 'tis possible have known his true designs, which came not to my knowledge; and I have thought with the rest of the world, that curiosity only, and a youthful desire, led him to that resolution which many have condemned. But whatever was the cause, he writ a Letter to the King, wherein with many excuses, he begged his pardon for this sally of youth, professing that he left him only to render himself more worthy to serve him, by the experience he hoped to reap by his Travels, promising not to absent himself longer than a year, and during that, not so far from Scythia or Dacia, but easily to observe the motions of his enemies, in which case he would abandon all things, to render his King that service, to which his duty obliged him; he accompanied these promises, with words full of humility and submission, to efface the resentment which the King might conceive for his fault, and having given the Letter unto the principal of his servants, with whom he returned all his retinue, retaining only two Squires to accompany and serve him in his Voyage: and on this manner, maugre the resistance of all his attendants, he leaves them, and takes his way by the side of the Boristhenes, to go towards Byzantium.  
I'll not entertain you with the return of his People to the King, nor the King's grief at this unhappy news: you may believe it was excessive, and Orontes had need of all his courage to resist this displeasure, yet he had a firm confidence in the Princess promise, and knew his courage too well to believe any thing could recall him, save the War that threatened his Father: he only feared those dangers to which he might be daily exposed in an equipage, so little conformable to his dignity, and turning all his thoughts this way, he not only caused public vows to be offered to the gods for his preservation, but commanded some persons, in whom he had most confidence, to march after him, with express order not to leave him, what commands soever he gave to the contrary, whilst this Prince Adventurer (carried with a youthful desire to see the world) visited a part of Thrace, under the name of Alcimedon (which he would take to disguise his own) and seeking occasions to signalise himself in some Wars, (wherewith this Kingdom was troubled) by divers actions of extraordinary valour, he rendered the name of Alcimedon famous through all Thrace, obliging the old King Adallas, Father of this which now reigns, to entreat him to come to his Court.  
Alcimedon went, and by his good Mine, added greater credit to the fame of his actions, receiving all manner of Carresses from this good King; he would not here make any long abode, though they offered him charges, as much (as they thought) above him, as they were indeed below him: the fear of being known in a Court, to which he was too near a Neighbour, hindered him from staying longer there.  
From Thrace, he would have gone to the Taurick Chersonese, which obeyed Merodatus, a Prince of great valour and reputation; but this Prince was then absent, and, as Alcimedon understood, he was in the Court of the Queen Amalthea, whither he had been drawn by the beauty of her Daughter, the Princess Menalippa, and by the hope which they gave, to yield her to that person, who most pvissantly served the Queen's resentment, against the King of Scythia.  
He saw that in the absence of Merodatus, they made great Levies in his Country, to pass into Dacia, (the first intention of their Prince, having been to employ them in the Scythian expedition) but 'tis supposed they served in the War which the Dacians had with the Sarmates and Nomades.  
The brave Alcimedon beheld with indignation these preparations against his Father, and told his Squires that followed him, that he hoped to render this enterprise as fatal to its Authors, as it had been light in its cause. But that which he learned in the Taurick, made him take a strange resolution, which was to pass into Dacia, and make some abode there, by which he might learn many things, capable to give him great advantages in that War for which they prepared; beside this consideration, he felt himself drawn by an unknown force to this design, and out of curiosity to see, whether the beauty of Menalippa, which raised so many enemies against his House, was parallel to the fame spread abroad of it.  
On this account he made no difficulty to hazard this voyage, believing with reason he could with greater facility remain unknown in Dacia, than in any other Kingdom, in respect of the little communication the Dacians have with the Scythians, their ancient enemies, and particularly in the Court where he had been educated.  
He left the Taurick, and passed into Dacia, which he found all in Arms, especially the Frontiers bordering upon Sarmatia, upon which already many bloody Battles had been fought, the events whereof were doubtful enough.  
Alcimedon hating to remain peaceful in a Country of War, visited the Armies rather than the Court of Dacia, believing this employment more suitable to his courage; and also that here he should run the least danger of being known, and chiefly to observe the enemy's fashion of War, before they brought it into his own Country; so that without further weighing, he put himself into the Dacian Army, commanded by the Prince Barzanes, Brother to the deceased King of Dacia, a great and experienced Captain. And for one of the first proofs of his generosity, though he knew how much the Queen of Dacia was his enemy, knowing that on this occasion, Justice was on her side, he chose rather to serve on her side, than on that of her enemies; knowing also that neither the Prince of the Sarmates, nor Nomads were friends to his Family; and if the Queen would have given them the satisfaction they required, they offered to serve her against the King of Scythia.  
At last, whether by these reasons, or others, Alcimedon put himself into the Army of Barzanes, without any charge, and to abridge those things which I must but succinctly relate, in respect of the multitude of others, of a far greater importance, which I must decipher more at large; being carried on all occasions with his accustomed valour, he did things marvellous, that in a little time the valour of Alcimedon was the discourse of the Dacian Army; Barzanes, (to whom he was constrained to show himself the first days) complemented him with a thousand extraordinary Carresses, offered him the most important charge of the Army, writ of him to the Queen and Princess, with all the Eulogies he was capable of, to represent his valour and other admirable qualities; but he did much more, when Alcimedon (having been overborn by the entreaties which he made, to take the command of one part of the Cavalry) executed things so much above the hopes of the Dacians, that they regarded him as a divine person; he saved the life of Barzanes in divers encounters, and n a great Combat, which might have passed for a Battle, being joined in person against the Prince of the Nomads, (who had gained the repute of valiant;) he slew him with his own hand, at the head of his Troops.  
These actions, and many others of the like nature, made the name of Alcimedon so glorious in the Court and Camp of Dacia, that they talked of nothing else; and the Queen Amalthea writ to Barzanes, expressing a marvellous esteem, and an ardent desire to see and know him, as a man whom she believed heaven had sent to serve her in her design against Scythia.  
Alcimedon understanding her intentions, both by her Letters, and the discourses of Barzanes, had divers debates amongst his Esquires concerning this adventure, which to relate, would draw this story to a troublesome length.  
But if the Queen of Dacia testified a desire to see him, the marvels which he daily heard (both by Barzanes, and the principal Officers of the Army) of the Princess Menalippa, gave him no less curiosity to apprehend whether the truth were conformable to the repute; he intended no stay in the Court, believing that in time he might run some hazard; but, he resolved to pass by, and see this person, of whom such wonders were related. He communicated his design to Mandaris and Sosthenes, his two Squires, in whom he had a perfect confidence. And a few days after, the enemies being reduced by his valour to bad terms, demanded a years truce, which Barzanes granted; so that Alcimedon finding no more occasions to employ his Sword, took leave of the General, promising him, that if it were possible, he would see him in the Court of Dacia, whither he intended to go to lalute the Queen, if his affairs permitted him. Barzanes did what he could to stay him, or at the least to persuade him to retire into the Court of Dacia; but although Alcimedon had a design to visit the Court, yet he would give him no absolute promise, fearing lest Barzanes should make it known; and he contented to give him the Hope, knowing well that Barzanes (notwithstanding the Truce) was obliged to make a stay of two or three days upon the Frontiers; when they parted, Alcimedon would visit a part of Dacia, and particularly those places which bordered upon Scythia, before he went to Tenasia, where the Queen kept her Court, which is in the heart of the Kingdom; yet ere he went, he complemented all those Officers, which Barzanes had given to serve under him in the Army, retaining only one Esquire, named Leander, whom he knew passionately devoted to his services, and whom he admitted, at his instant entreaties, having first absolutely forbidden his Scythian-Squires, to let him know any thing of their Master's birth or true condition; so that this affectionate Dacian linked himself to his service with much fidelity, without knowing him by any other name, than that of Alcimedon, and without endeavouring to know more, seeing it was not his Master's intention he should.  
The Prince after he had spent some months in visiting this Kingdom, took the great Road, and after some days journeys, which passed without any memorable event; he approached the great City Tenasia, where the Court was then very fair and flourishing: Barzanes (who was some days since arrived) had filled it with the reputation of Alcimedon: the valiant Merodatus, and divers other Princes, whom the charms of Menalippa kept there, swe●'d with emulation and envy, at the praises given to the unknown Alcimedon,  
This disguised Prince (whose spirit began to be agitated with some unusual disquiets which by a secret instinct, seemed to foresee the traverses which fortune prepared for him) had already discovered a Hill on one side of the Walls of that proud City, and on the other a Forest, which covered a great part of the Plain, and finding himself weary, what with the heat of the season, and the weight of his Arms which he usually wore; he cast his eyes upon the Forest, whose stately Trees formed a beautiful and delicate shade, and being invited to take there an hour of repose, he quitted the way, and mingled himself amongst the Trees.  
When he had considered the beauty of the place, and the great number of paths which traversed on every side, he sought the most unfrequented, as properest to the design he had to sleep; and by fortune, having heard the murmuring of a little Rivulet, which slid over the pebbles with an agreeable sound, he walked to it, in pursuance of the Fountain which was not far off. It was a most delightful Spring, whose natural beauty, a little Art had very much augmented; the source was clear and lively, the grass green and fresh round about, and, by a great tuft of Trees, embraced and defended from the Sun, and the sight of passengers.  
Alcimedon, beholding the beauty of the place, alighted, and giving his horse to his Squires, (who out of respect distanced themselves, and followed the course of the River) to take some rest whilst their Lord stayed in the Wood, who approaching the Fountain, and taking off his Casque, quenched his thirst, and lay down upon the Grass; where, after some thoughts, of the nature of those which had for some time disquieted him, he insensibly gave place to sleep.  
Whilst he slept, the other part of the Wood resounded with Horns and Dogs, and the noise of Hunters; the fair, fierce Menalippa (to whom the exercises of Diana were more agreeable, than those of the other Goddesses) was this day hunting in the Wood, with the greatest part of those persons which composed the Court.  
The Garments proper to this days exercise, added a new grace to her admirable beauty; her hair, which Nature had made most beautifully flaxen, was covered with a Texture of Gold and Silk, made after the fashion of the Grecian Morion, shadowed with a tust of white Feathers; and the rest, tied in several places with Bandelets of the same, fell some upon her cheeks, and some upon her shoulders, in an agreeable confusion; that part of her habit, which covered from the shoulders to the waste, shined with Gold and precious stones; but the sleeves were of a light flying stuff, turned back, and fastened to the shoulders with clasps of Pearl, and so likewise at the knee, giving the appearance to a Buskin of the same embroidery, locking the middle of her leg with a Fermoir of Rubies and Emeralds: a gilt-Quiver full of Arrows, hung behind upon her shoulders, in a Scarf of the richest and fairest embroidery, and carrying in her left hand a Bow, in the posture of the fabulous Nymphs of the Poets, her Horse white as snow, proud and haughty by nature, but much more of the burden he carried; and the fair Princess managed him with so much grace and vigour, that scarce the furious Penthesilea, or the strongest of those warlike Women, (who established their Monarchy upon the banks of Thermodoon) could have performed it with so much facility and address.  
This day she had given the Chase with an unusual eagerness, and being mounted on one of the swiftest Horses of Dacia, had, in the chase of a Deer; outrun the company very many paces, and found herself alone, and out of the way, in the middle of the Forest. She no sooner heard the sound of the Horns or Dogs, ere she perceived her error, and seeking to return, and join with the company, she found herself close by the Fountain, where the Scythian Prince lay rocked in an agreeable repose. When the noise of the streams had discovered the Fountain, the Trees could not hide it from her, knowing well the place, it being her retreat when her exercise had filled her with thirst; and being so now, she drew near to refresh herself a moment; and having alighted, and found a tree to fasten her Horse to, she saw Belisa (the Maid whom she best loved) coming towards her: Belisa no sooner saw the Princess, but alighting, received her Horse. The Princess left her, and walked amongst the Trees, till she came where Alcimedon lay.  
The first thing that presented itself to her view, some six or eight paces from the Prince, was his Casque, which gilt in many places, and covered with Plumes of divers colours, presented her with an agreeable object; but almost at the same time she spied its Master; who sleeping sounder than ordinary, waked not at the noise she made in approaching him, by which means he gave her leisure to consider whatsoever her curiosity might make her desirous to see; something of fear possessed her at an encounter so little expected, and those advantages she had above the most courageous of her sex, did not descend her from some apprehensions, at the sight of an armed man, so far from attendants; but having a spirit little inferior to the hardiest men, and being in a place where she was absolute Princess, and could at the sound of a horn, draw many to her succours, she resolved to satisfy that curiosity which the sight of his Arms had given her.  
They were fair and Proud, enriched with branches of Gold, wrought by an industrious hand; here and there divers stones of price, mingled their sparkling beauties, which through the address of the Workman, seemed to be employed with some necessity  
If their splendour struck the eyes of the Princess, that of the sleeping Prince touched her after another manner. For, extended he lay upon the Grass, and though a little turned on the left side, yet his face remained almost quite decovered: all the features thereof were formed with an admirable proportion, and although his eyes were shut, 'twas yet with such a grace, as nothing diminished his natural beauty; his Hair, which inclined rather to flaxen than black, played about his cheeks, by the assistance of a gentle air, advancing marvellously the beauty of his complexion, which through the coldness of his Country is common to all Scythians, but his had the advantage of extraordinary lustre.  
He was not more than twenty years of age, and having not as yet resented any of those displeasures, which did afterwards something alter his health and good Mine, he appeared to Menalippa with all the beauty he had received from heaven, and in its highest splendour, or rather he appeared as a person admirable, and to which Menalippa had never seen any thing comparable, but in her Glass.  
I know not whether it was an effect of the good Mine of Alcamenes, or the destiny of Menalippa, but certain it is, the Princess beheld him with some emotion, and her high fierce heart, which amidst so many Princes that adored her, never beheld any but with disdain, lost part of its pride, and abased itself to a particular attention for this extraordinary object: she ran over the beauty and proportion of his face, considering his person from head to foot, and the more she regarded him, the more worthy she judged him to be regarded; she devoured him with her eyes, yet thought she saw him not half.  
At first, this attention for an object so charming, did much delight her, but a little after, conceiving some despite, and retiring her eyes from a magnetic, which even forceably attracted them: Ah! what interest so great have I (said the half-angry) so curiously to observe this Unknown, and what consideration can arrest me, who till now with disdain have beheld the rest of mankind? Is this he, to whom the Gods have destined the ruin of the King of Scythia? and, is this he, to whom I am designed, as the price of that so famous Revenge? At these words she turned from Alcamenes, and approached the Fountain to quench her thirst; but when she endeavoured to retire and take Horse, it was impossible for her to follow this motion, or hinder her once more casting her eyes upon the sleeping Prince.  
At this second view, she was more taken than at the first, and began to perceive the poisonou's subtle insinuation through her eyes into her heart; this forced blushes into her checks, as though she had committed a fault in the presence of such who had power to condemn it, and began to reprove her weakness with resentments of a true choler.  
Yet with all this, she continually beheld Alcamenes, and not to hold you longer with this description, that great heart, which till then had beheld all men with repugnance and disdain, and who could never imagine her inclinations would bow to receive a husband, though from the Queen her Mother's choice, saw itself in a few moments disarmed of all its fierceness, and began truly to love an unknown person, ignorant whether she should be ever beloved again.  
Ah! Menalippa, said she within herself, what is thy destiny, and by what strange adventure goest thou to revenge those, in whom thy disdain have caused just resentments? O fatal! O empoisoned sight! She stopped at these words, and supporting her head with one of her fair hands, If it please the Gods (continued she) that he for whom heaven and my fortune reserves me, resemble this Unknown, how much shall I be obliged to their bounty? But alas (pursues she with a sigh) I feed upon vain imaginations, for I am a Maid, and incensed.  
Whilst she thus entertained her thoughts, the Prince, (whether by any noise she made, or that his senses were satisfied with sleep) awaked; and no sooner opened his eyes, but they were dazzled with the sight of Menalippa; and this Princess, who rose so soon as she saw him move, appeared with so much splendour and majesty to his sight, that he became altogether confounded.  
The beauty of Menalippa is such, that few in the universe can equalit, and amongst all those whom I have seen in the world, yours only, Madam, (continued Megacles, addressing himself to Cleopatra) can pretend to any advantage over it; 'tis a majestic and enlightening beauty, a beauty which strikes at the first sight, without the little affiances of art or converse: Her Complexion sur passeth the whiteness of the Scythian Snows; the lineaments of her face formed after the most regular proportion, her blue eyes may pass for the fairest in the World, their motions are so sweet and imperious together, that they never inspire love without fear, nor make themselves feared but loved also; the beauty of her neck and hands, yielded nothing to the rest; and for the make of her Body it would be the fairest of the world, were it not a little-thing extraordinary for her sex, and approaching to the pitch of Alcamenes, who is one of the properest men of Scythia. Menalippa (such as I have in a few words described her) though a thousand times more fair, could not so unexpectedly appear to the astonished Alcimedon, without possessing him with emotions preportionate to the marvels of this encounter, and at that prodigious brightness which possess him at the same instant with astonishment, veneration, and fear, inspiring him with no other thoughts, than those which tended to adoration.  
After he had with a trembling, and ill-assured action, run over this Marvel with his eyes, the fashion of her habit, and the divine beauty of her person, made him take her for Diana; and without balancing this opinion, he cast himself at her feet: Great Goddess, said he, pardon to a stranger the error he may have committed against your Divinity; had I known this sacred place, I would not have profaned it by my preseuce, not have incurred the punishment of Actaeon, by a fault parallel with his.  
This action, and these words of Alcamenes, though pronounced in an humble posture, were yet so full of Grace and Majesty, that they gave fresh spirit to that fatal draught which the Princess had rereived into her bosom; and knowing the stranger's error (though she beheld the cause thereof with joy) yet would not leave him in it; but raising him with a sweetness never used to any; Brave stranger, said she, (I am no Goddess, or, if I were, I could not be displeased to meet you: for the encounter of such persons are neither disagreeable n or unfortunate; and I am glad that my presence is neither troublesome nor unpleasant to you;) With these words she raised him almost by force, and the Prince beholding her with more assurance than before, observed those charms in her person, against which his young liberty, though maintained fierce and invincible against all other beauties, made not a moment of resistance: I know not whether destiny, or their own merits, produced this prompt effect; but it is certain, that never mutual affection was more suddenly formed, or rather, never fire catcht with more facility the most combustible matters.  
But Alcamenes and Menalippa, being born one for the other, that which in some persons, years would not have done, became perfect in the souls of these two Heroes, in an instant.  
Alcamenes, lost, and burning, beheld this Mistress of his heart with an unassured regard, and the countenance of a person attainted of some crime: (Gods▪ cried he, where could be born, or from whence come a person, such a one as appears to my dazzled eyes! What Land can contain her, or what men are worthy to adore her!) Menalippa was ravished with joy at these words, and the passionate action of Alcamenes, knowing that her beauty had produced his astonishment, and part of that effect which she desired; in a moment she read in the eyes of this Prince, the motions of his passion, and scarce able to dissemble her satisfaction: I am not (said she, with a modest action) such a one as you would persuade me to be; and were you no stranger, as you words, and divers marks express you to be, you had possibly known the Princess Menalippa.  
At the name of Menalippa, Alcamenes ' was troubled, though by very great appearances, he suspected the truth before, yet could he not apprehend it without trouble, considering that in the person, who had forced his heart the first moment he saw her, he should find Menalippa, his mortal enemy, destined to the destruction of his House, and murder of his Father.  
This knowledge wounded him sensibly, yet made him not dispute the victory with this triumphant beauty, and he secretly vowed, after a reflection of some moments, that had Menalippa been much more the cruel enemy of his father, and himself also, he could not but yield, nor live, but slave to Menalippa.  
The fair princess, who observed his emotion, though ignorant of the cause, was willing to draw him out of it: (I know not, said she, whether the knowledge of my name hath given you any displeasure, but I should be very glad to learn yours; and I see things extraordinary enough in your person, to become inquisitive after your condition.) The Prince having time to recollect himself, gathering an assurance, and lifting up his eyes which till then were fixed upon the earth, (Great Princess, said he, the knowledge of your name hath not surprised me, neither do I find any thing in your person less great than your fortunes; and I am not amazed to see you hold a rank upon earth, nothing below that which I gave you in my first opinion, of which, I can scarce as yet divest my fancy; I should rather take you for the Sovereign of the Universe, than the Princess of Dacia; and you ought not to expect less homage from all men, than from those who are born your subjects; and amongst the most humble adorers of those marks of Divinity, which appear visibly in you, you may number (continued he kneeling, and kissing the border of her Garment) him whom his good fortune hath conducted to your feet, and who will esteem himself exceeding glorious if that little service, by which he hath endeavoured to render you, the name of Alcimedon hath arrived at your ears.  
At the name of Alcimedon, Menalippa recoiled some paces, for it was a name so known in the Court, and over the whole Kingdom of Dacia, by the brave actions of its bearer, for the service of that Crown, that she could not hear it pronounced without surprise, and very much joy, to understand that the person, whose beauty had conquered her in a few moments, was more worthy of that fortune by the charms of his valour: O how agreeably did this famous Name touch her ears, how did she please herself with the destiny of her, till-then unconquered-heart, who receiving the yoke by a caprice of fortune, rather than a judicious choice, found that the beauty which captivated her, was even itself a captive to the valour, and other virtues of its bearer, she secretly thanked the Gods, and again raising the prostrate Alcimedon, you could have told me, said she, nothing more pleasant than this, and as you take me for something above myself, so I shall find no great difficulty to believe you to be that valiant Alcimedon, to whom this Crown hath so many obligations, and whose Reputations is so beautiful amongst us, by so many glorious actions which you have performed for our interest; that Princess which speaks to you, is the most obliged to acknowledge them; which doubtless she will, if, to the great engagements we have to you, you add this, of accompanying us to the Court.  
The Princess spoke thus, to a Prince already persuaded by his own passion, to yield; when she saw herself accosted not only by Belisa, but also by a great part of her Train, and a little after by all those that composed the Chase; the Prince Barzanes was there, who no sooner saw Alcimedon, but he knew him, and (having demanded leave of the Princess, by a gesture full of respect) ran to him with open arms, caressing him with as much tenderness, as if he had been his own Son, rendering him the honour could be given to a Prince of the most elevated dignity.  
The name of Alcimedon ran presently from mouth to mouth through this noble company, and if those that knew him in the Army, pressed to embrace this valiant man, who by his virtues had gained a powerful ascendent on their hearts, those that knew him only by his reputation, strove no less ardently to see him; and beholding with astonishme it, that the reports made of his good Mine, were exceedingly below the truth.  
They regarded him with a marvellous attention, and loaded him with praises, which his modesty could not endure; Barzanes as the most affectionate, and him that knew him best, was the most diligent about him, testifying a high joy at this arrival, and acquainting the Princess with many things to his advantage.  
Merodates, Prince of the Taurick was there, and from this first moment, conceived an envy and jealousy against him, yet could not refuse to his fair reputation, nor those excellent appearances he found in him, those things which he thought due, and testified the esteem he had of virtue in the person of him that possessed it.  
At last, Alcimedon, in obedience to Menalippa's will, to Barzanes prayers, but most of all through the persuasions of a powerful inclination, which attracted him to Menalippa, received his Horse from his Squires, and followed the Princess, who entertained him during the way to Tenasia.  
His passion was scarce born, but it became great and violent, and the Princess, as she hath since protested, already loved him passionately. These two great souls knew each other at the first approach, and the sympathy was greater between them, than the hatred of their Families, or other obstacles which seemed to oppose the birth and course of this affection.  
The same day Alcimedon was presented to the Queen by the Princess, and the Prince Barzanes and Amalthea (who ardently desired to see him, partly out of the love she bore to his virtue, as also the use she intended to make of him, in the War with the King of Scythia; received him with all the marks of esteem and goodwill, which she could give to that person of the world, whom she most dearly loved, and forgot none of those caresses and favours, which might engage him to her service.  
Moreover, he was firmly established in the Court: for having in a little time made his virtues shine, (beside the general esteem) he gained in such sort the affections of the Queen, that never favourite rendered himself more powerful over the spirit of any Sovereign, than he did over that of Amalthea. And as he gained the favour of all the world, so none envied his fortune, except the stranger Princes, who pretended to the possession of Menalippa; and seeing him so favoured by the Mother and the Daughter, began to doubt whether the grandeur of their birth, and the possession of their Crowns, would render them more considerable than the virtue of Alcimedon.  
Euardes, Son of the King of Bithynia, and Phraterphernes, Son to the King of Pont, both drawa from their Countries, by the beauty of Menalippa, sighed equally for her in the Court of Dacia, Merodates, the most valiant of the three, and withal, the most proud, thought not the most powerful, felt the same fires, and entertained the same pretensions: Orosmanes, Prince of the Basternes, neighbour to Dacia, breathed the same passion; yet none of them had been able to touch the stately heart of Menalippa: and though the Princes were all considerable for their valour and greatness, yet this fierce haughty Princess had never favoured them with one regard, which might afford the least hope; the Reputation of her Beauty, and the Declaration which the Queen her Mother had made, to yield her to him that revenged her on the King of Scythia, had called those Princes into her Territories: and, whilst at the feet of Menalippa, they endeavoured to make some progress in her affection, Levies were made in all parts of their Kingdoms for the Scythian expedition.  
Those of Merodates and Orosmanes, were bordering, but those of Phrataphernes and Euardes, were to be drawn out of Asia, and required a larger time ere they could come, none forgetting whatsoever might advance his particular fortune, yet they had really done nothing; and Merodates only by the repute of his valour, could boast of some place in the esteem, though none in the affection of Menalippa.  
Alcamenes beheld with displeasure so many Princes Armed against his Father, and unable to dissemble his resentments, was (notwithstanding the obligations he had to be pleasant) perpetually fierce, and contracted no friendship with them.  
'Tis true, that their love and pretensions to Menalippa, rendered them more odious, than their design to carry a War into his Country: and, as Rivals, hated them more than as Invaders; he beheld them with Aversion, and would have done with Disdain, had not prudence been an Enemy to his passion: for knowing himself more rich in all sort of virtues, and more great in the extent of Monarchy, than them all; he might reasonably have hoped for a better success than them all, had not the hatred of the Mother and the Daughter, powerfully opposed themselves to his hopes, and been an obstacle greater than all the traverses of his Rivals.  
Whilst this amorous Prince consumed, without discovering himself, and by his regards only, gave Menalippa cause to judge that his heart was wounded; by those only he declared his torments to his fair Princess, nor was this Language altogether unsufficient to make her apprehend part of the truth.  
Menalippa, overborn by her destiny, submitted to that yoke, which hither to she had despised, and suffered nothing less than he; yet not daring to permit her eyes to enter into so free a conversation, as Alcamenes did his, she lived in a greater constraint; yet could not always so command them, but by some favourable glances she flattered his hopes, and as he observed them with a particular interest, in a short time he perceived a great part of his happiness.  
This mute language prepared, and all other circumstances seconded so well, that these two illustrious persons no longer doubted a mutual affection; and the haughty Menalippa, who from so many Princes of birth equal to hers, could never endure the least syllable of Love, became now even afflicted, that an unknown man, and apparently of Rank inferior to hers, kept a forced silence, and spoke not openly of his passion. For in some moments she would continue in these thoughts, but presently began to fear what she seemed to desire, and sounded the bottom of her courage, to find in what manner she ought to receive so hard a declaration from this unknown person.  
Alcimedon, though naturally hardy, and knowing himself sufficient, to believe that the greatest Princess upon Earth ought not to be offended with the declaration of his love, was yet disquieted with cruel considerations, and could not resolve to declare himself as an unknown, or as Alcimedon, without exposing his hope to an entire ruin. To discover Alcamenes, he could by no means yield, supposing the little affection they began to entertain for Alcimedon, was not comparable to the hatred they bore to his House, and himself also; and, To declare his passion to the Princess: in the disguise of an unknown person, could boad no other than a bad success; nor did he think such a Princess as Menalippa heir to a flourishing Kingdom, and who might choose out the greatest Princes of EUROPE and ASIA, would behold but with disdain, the passion of a man, whose birth and quality were unknown, though prepossessed with much esteem and goodwill towards his person.  
He made on this subject many discourses too long to relate, and in this posture many Months passed, ere he could obtain from his courage the succours he demanded.  
But at last (as he is capable of the most hazardous erterprises, and as he saw himself more animated by the favourable treatments of Menalippa, who sufficiently favoured his design, and gave him often opportunities to entertain her with liberty) he resolved (notwithstanding his so many reasons to the contrary) to ease his torment by discovering them, or to ruin his hopes.  
One day, the Princess called him to her to walk in the Palace-Garden, and having discharged her Squires, to grace Alcimedon with the employment, she made several turns, and at last led him into a little Cabinet; but her Maids entered not, by reason it was but little, but walked in the Alley, and left Alcimedon alone with the Princess.  
He had already resolved, by the Essays he had made upon his Courage, and the hope those favourable appearances had given him, to lay hold on the first occasion to discover his passion: So that he sought a way, though trembling, to enter with a good grace upon this discourse: Whilst he was meditating; the Princess (through an open place of the Cabinet) showed him a Spring, encompassed with some Trees, from whence a Rivulet took its rise, branching forth in many Channels through the Garden: It was (said the) near such a place as this, that I first saw Alcimedon; and you may add, Madam, replied Alcamenes, ('twas in that place, that Alcimedon left his liberty at the feet of the divine Menalippa, and charged himself with those glorious Chains, which he will carry to his Tomb.) He stopped at these first words, and the Princess, though she were not angry, yet blushed, and became much disordered, and keeping her eyes fixed on the ground, as unable to lift them to Alcamenes' face, she remained silent. The Prince, who steadfastly beheld her Countenance, and finding nothing there of cruel, but much more bashfulness than choler, became more hardy than before; and putting one knee to the ground, some paces from the Princess, Divine Princess, said he, if I have offended you, ordain with what manner of death you will punish my boldness, only grant me the favour as to believe, that if our adorations offend not the Gods, you can receive no injury from those my heart intertains for you. This heart was yours from the first moment I saw you, and shall be yours till the last moment of my life; you may disapprove it; you may condemn it, but you cannot by death draw it out of this gloricus servitude.  
Here he stopped, and after Menalippa's example, fastened his eyes on the ground, and if the Princess had regarded his action, she might have seen that fear took possession of his heart in this encounter, which it had never been able to do in the greatest dangers.  
Menalippa was joyful that he loved her, and she loved him dearly, yet knew not how to express herself, or treat him; She was not ignorant of the Rules of good manners, and she had a natural disposition to punish with rigour, faults of the like nature with this of Alcimedon; yet had she no dissembling spirit, nor could receive with appearances of dislike, those things which she desired with all her heart. This irresolution made her keep a long silence, at length, a little raising her eyes upon Acimedon, whose humble posture helped to gain her; (Stranger, said she, if I behold thy boldness with rigour, I should judge it worthy of punishment, but if I follow my inclinations, I shall do thee no harm; thy temerity alone is all I can dislike in thee, but nothing of the rest is odious to Menalippa, and if thou wilt have her tell thee any more, first let her know who is this audacious man, that without giving us any other knowledge than that of his Sword, dares lift his eyes to the Princess of Dacia; on the account thou givest her, may depend a great part of thy destiny: And I tell thee further, thou wilt not disoblige Menalippa, in letting her know thee to be such a one, whose affection she may entertain without offence.)  
These words heightened the courage of the Prince of Scythia: Divine Menalippa, said he (with more assurance than before) death shall be less cruel to me than any occasions of disobeying you; but I am constrained by a necessity (which when you know, you will certainly pardon) for some Months to conceal both the Birth and Fortune of Alcimedon; and the gods are my Witnesses, that it is only my respect to you, that causeth this difficulty, in a short time you shall receive a knowledge of me, confirmed by the testimony of all EUROPE, and therefore (great Princess) permit me to say, that though in all sorts of great qualities, I am infinitely your Inferior, yet in Nobility of blood, in Dignity and Dominions, my House gives place neither to yours, nor any in EUROPE; and if you are satisfied with the person of Alcimedon, that which ought to accompany him, to render him worthy of you, will be here sound more advantageously than in all the other Princes who have taken upon them the honour of serving you: In the Name of the gods, and by your bounty pardon me, if I can discover no more. When the term of this cruel constraint shall be expired, I will declare myself wholly to you, without expecting a second command, during which time, I shall desire no further favour than those I have received from you, nor pretend to any thing from your bounty, which may in the least engage you, before these truths are sufficiently known, and until the Queen your Mother, with all the Court of Dacia, do confess that Alcimedon, is a Prince great enough to pretend openly to the glory of serving you.  
Alcimedon finished not this Discourse, but with much difficulty; finding a strong aversion to disobey the command of Menalippa: But this fair Princess was so intricated on all sides, as if the were troubled in being unable to learn of Alcimedon that which she desired; yet what he related concerning his Birth and Fortune, did highly satisfy her; and as she had too much confidence in his virtue, to suspect him of a lie, and of a lie which could but be unprofitable by his own conditions, her contentment became so great, that she could hardly dissemble it. And beholding Alcimedon with an affectionate sweetness: (As I am more reasonable than many others, said she, and that visibly I act with more sincerity than artifice, I will excuse for your Reasons the denial you make me; but I beseech you not to abuse that good opinion, which will have me believe that all you say is true.)  
Alcimedon, falling on his knees, and with Transports embracing her feet (My visible Deity, said he, if this heart were capable of disguising itself from you, it were not that heartburning for you with a passion the most holy a Soul can be inflamed with; and I desire you to banish me your presence, as that man of all the World the most unworthy to adore you, if (before I pretend to any other favour than this, of embracing your sacred knees) I present not, in the person of Alcimedon, one of the greatest Princes of the Universe.  
He uttered these words with an Action so passionate, and Menalippa read so much love in his eyes, that (unable to master the motions of her affection) after she had offered her hand with an Action full of sweetness and Majesty (Friend, said she, if this be true, Menalippa shall never be any's but thine; but if to my unhappiness it prove false, she shall never be to any one at all.  
Finishing these words, she carried one hand to her face to cover a blush, and with the other locking upon that of Alcamenes, and raising him (Alcimedon, added she, you have gained my heart with too much facility, but believe that it is my destiny and inclination which hath given it you, rather than your Services; and so carry it, that I may never have cause to complain of the one or the other; to day I will entertain you, but no longer:) Finishing these words, she went out of the Cabinet; but it was in a condition, and with a countenance so changed, that had it been observed by the Company, they might have feared some dysaster had befallen her.  
But Alcimedon was so transported with joy, that it was hard for those who saw him that day, not to discern in his face the satisfaction of his heart, and no sooner had he quitted the Princess by her command, and recollected himself concerning his good Fortune, but he found his felicity too great to be contained, and scarce in the impetuous motions of his youth could he retain public demonstrations of that happiness which so many reasons commanded him to conceal: he made a thousand passionate Discourses, and, as he loved with as much violence as ever any did, so all that his love produced was violent like itself; but if his joy was immoderate at the first view of his happiness, it became more complete when he perceived that he was not only dearly loved by Menalippa, but that he had need of a spirit firm and solid, to require a Princess born with a true generosity, and uncapable of any artifice.  
At last through the sympathy of their humours, and the force of their destinies, their affection became so strong, as to justify the opinion of those who believe (that the love proceeding from inclination, is more powerful than that of acknowledgement and obligation) you will see by the sequel of this Discourse, that this is true, and may thence conclude that there was never a more strong love contracted, than between these two illustrious persons.  
Menalippa entirely opened her heart to Alcimedon, and this happy Prince read there his happiness with ecstasies; his love increased daily by the fresh graces he received from the Princess; and although they extended no further, than the honour of kissing her hand, yet he found so many charms in the Action, and those words by which she daily established his happiness, that he scarce believed there could be a completer Bliss; yet he was sometimes perplexit, to think what the knowledge of Alcamenes would produce against the Fortune of Alcimedon, and Menalippa justified his fears a few days, after when in a converse they had together (having harkened with her ordinary bounty to the protestations made of his fidelity; (Alcimedon) (said she) (whatever promise I have made to favour your Designs, in case you prove faithful and true, yet that which you call your happiness, is not entirely in my hands, and although I hope the Queen my Mother will yield much to my choice, yet it is certain that in the disposition of Menalippa, she will follow her first resolutions, to give me only to him that shall most powerfully advance the King of Scythia's Ruin; and were I not confident of your Valour, from which I hope in this occasion much more, than from all the other pretenders, whatsoever affection I have entertained for you, I should not think myself obliged to my promise, but as I know that in this War we are to expect nothing but Wonders from you, you need not doubt a favourable success, and I am more troubled at the danger you must expose yourself to for the love of me, against those redoubtable Enemies, than comforted by the advantages you may carry away.)  
This Discourse troubled Alcamenes, though he long since expected it, and being prepared, he quickly recollected himself, and did all he could that the Princess might not observe the disorder in his face. Madam, said he, I am not ignorant of the conditions that engage those who aspire to the glory of serving you; and you ought not to doubt, since my heart is yours without reserve, but that I will also espouse your resentments; and I will not only serve you in your Design against Scythia with ardour and fidelity; but I dare promise you above all those who engage in this War for your Service, that I will serve you with success, and will put the Crown of Scythia upon your Head: This promise may seem extravagant in the condition you see me, but when I shall be better known, I hope you will expect the performance with some confidence; there is a great deal of presumption in my Discourse, yet to drive it to the highest point, I promise my Princess never to demand the possession of Menalippa, till I have Crowned her Queen of Scythia.  
Whilst Alcamenes spoke, Menalippa beheld him attentively, and being unable to accuse a man of vain boldness and presumption, whom she knew of a true and solid virtue, was ignorant what judgement to make on this hardy Proposition, and the conditions wherewith he bounded his own good Fortune; his great confidence in promising things so great, persuaded her of the grandeur of his condition, and calling to her thoughts all the powerful Princes of the Earth to find Alcimedon amongst them (Alcamenes only being excepted in the Number) not imagining that Prince would unnecessarily expose himself to too manifest danger, or that he against whom the Queen her Mother armed the whole Earth, should come and submit himself to the power of his implacable Enemies.  
Having kept silence a good while, and then beholding Alcimedon with a smile. You promise things difficult enough, said she, but I will distrust neither your power not intention: I will only say, that in case you prosper not in your Design of making me Queen of Scythia, I will not bind you so rigorously to the conditions yourself hath put to your pretences, and will not for the Crown of Scythia lose the affection I bear to Alcimedon, yet you have given me an occasion to call to mind the Oracle, by the conformity I find between it and your promise; for the Queen my Mother having consulted with the most famous of the Earth, concerning her Design of revenging the King my Father's death, they have all unanimously answered, That the Conquest of Scythia was reserved for Menalippa, and that Menalippa should be one day Queen of Scythia. You need not doubt that the Queen received great satisfaction from this answer of the gods, and I believe that this hope is as great an incendiary to the War, as the vengeance she breathes against the King of Scythia.  
Alcamenes harkened attentively to these words, and instead of fearing the success of this War, he saw his hopes increased, and believed that the gods promised not the Crown of Scythia to Menalippa, but by her Marriage with Alcamenes; he again confirmed the promise he had made, and Menalippa protested, with incomparable bounty, that she desired not so much the Crown of Scythia, as she feared the death of Alcimedon, having Martial Enemies to encounter, a King valiant and experienced, and against the young Prince Alcamenes his Son, who had the Repute of one of the most Valiant men upon Earth.  
But whilst Alcimedon enjoyed this felicity, he had the displeasure continually to see his Rivals, and was obliged even before his face, to permit Merodates, Phrataphernes, Euardes, and Orosmanes, publicly to proclaim their affections to his Princess: 'Tis true, the cold reception she gave them, did minister some comfort to his spirit, and if the need she had of their assistance, did seem to smooth her brow with a pleasing aspect, 'twas with such a visible constraint, that Alcimedon had not any cause to harbour the least umbrage of discontent: she always testified more esteem to Merodates than the rest, viewing him as a Prince, whose virtue and courage claimed every ones respect, but she confined her resentments to this esteem, without permitting him any place in her amity.  
Alcimedon by the appearances of his condition, was obliged to show them some exterior respect, and to seek in secret what they openly pretended to; yet thought not his Fortune any thing worse, desiring rather to be secretly loved, than publicly esteemed.  
Whilst these interessed Princes beheld his access to Menalippa, his frequent converse with her, and many other testimonies of her esteem, which she would not hide, they began to regard him with envy; and a little after, this jealousy increasing by the appearances that caused it, they entertained a mortal hatred against him, and believing him their Inferior, would sometimes treat him with disdain; but though Alcimedon did disguise his Birth, and pass in that Court for a private person, yet in these encounters he would not belie himself, nor give place to these Rival Princes his Enemies, no more than if his true condition had been known.  
One day they were together in the Queen's Cabinet, who entertained them about the War of Scythia, to which she daily prepared herself. Euardes, who was the most inconsiderate, made a Hundred Discourses full of Bravadoes against the King of Scythia, the rest seconded him in the same manner: one bragged he would depopulate Scythia; another promised to present the Queen with the King Orontes' Head, and the most modest assured her, they would lay at her Majesty's feet, both the King and the Prince his Son, charged with Irons. Alcamenes, though he derided their presumption, yet could not suffer it without Reply, and addressing himself to the Queen, having beheld the Princes with disdain: Madam, said he, though your Forces are great, and the assistance of these Princes considerable, I counsel you to prepare to the King of Scythia's Defeat, as to a business much more difficult than they represent it, and to forget nothing that may advantage you in an Enterprise where you I have need of all; I know the power of Scythia, which is not less than that of all these Princes together; I know the King Orontes, who in valour and experience may not be equalled by any of those who imagine themselves able to carry so assured a Victory over him; I have seen his Son Alcamenes fight with a Courage might make the most hardy of these tremble, who imagine themselves able to Chain him with so much facility; Alcimedon had scarce'uttered these words, but he repented them, fearing he had said too much to conceal the interest he had in the King of Scythia; the four Princes murmured together, and Euardes, who spoke first, believing himself most interessed in the Discourse of Alcimedon, took the word, and casting a regard on the Prince of Scythia, which sufficiently signified his resentment: It seems, said he, you intent to terrify us with the praises you give our Enemies, we know Orontes, and have heard of the Prince Alcamenes; but we know nothing of either, that might make us apprehend the ill success of this War; and you are misinformed of our Valours, if you imagine we can tremble for one Alcamenes, or many Alcimedons, though they embrace his Party: Euardes (replied Alcimedon) wish yourself no other Enemies to join with him, who of himself is strong enough without others assistance; and believe that to vanquish one Alcamenes, and many Alcimedons, would require a great Number of Bithinian Princes.  
Ah! it is too much Alcimedon (cried Merodates!) were you well affected to the Service of the Queen, you would not take her Enemy's part.  
I beg the Queen's pardon (replied Alcimedon) if I have failed in the respect I owe her, in publishing Truths well known to me, to the advantage of her Enemies, I am nothing the less zealous to her Service; and when we appear in the Field against her Enemies, we shall see who will give the braver onset, whether those that praise, or those that despise themselves.  
This Discourse had passed further, and without doubt had carried these Princes to extremities, had not the Queen interposed her Authority, and gently blaming Alcimedon (who desired pardon) and entreating these Princes not to quarrel with a man who was very affectionate to her, and to whom the was redeemable for many great Services.  
The four Princes united against Alcimedon: but the Prince Barzanes who loved him dearly, offered himself and all his Friends publicly; and could not endure that the Queen should Treat him differently from the rest, though there was in appearance a manifest difference. Alcimedon, besides those excuses he made to the Queen, made many to the Princess Menalippa, and she attributing what she had said to the grandeur of his Courage, which could not dissemble a Truth, and partly out of aversion to those Princes whom he knew to be his Rivals, took nothing ill, but participating his resentments, treated his Rivals with more disdain than before.  
But they must leave Menalippa, for the Queen having communicated her Design of marching against the King of Scythia, so soon as the Princes had joined the succours they designed for her, obliged them to take leave, and seek those Troops they had ordered to be raised, intending to bring part of them into Dacia, and the rest to meet at the appointed Rendezvouz; Euardes and Phrataphernes departed first being most distant, having done all they could to obtain some shadow of hope from Menalippa: Merodates and Orosmanes, who were Neighbours, retired not till some days after, the one to the Tauriques, the other among the Basternes.  
But scarce were they gone, when News came to the Court, That the King of the Sarmates, and the King of the Nomads, Brother and Successor to him whom Alcimedon slew, had broken the Truce upon some slight pretences, and exercised all manner of Hostility upon the Frontiers.  
The Queen (whom this News troubled in respect of the delays it brought to her Designs) disputed not the Resolutions she ought to take. Barzanes departed with the Troops which were ready to join with those left upon the Frontiers, and Alcimedon (knit to Barzanes by a strict amity) also infinitely joyful to find in this War occasions of serving Menalippa, at whose desire he took a command under Barzanes in the Expedition against his Father, marched under him with a part of the Army against the Sarmates and Nomades.  
You will pardon me, if I enlarge not myself upon the adieus between Alcimedon and Menalippa, in which either expressed all that a violent passion could render soft and touching; and excuse me also, if I particularise not a War so suddenly ended: I will only say, that after some light skirmishes upon the Frontiers, Barzanes fell sick, and was constrained to expect his health in a bordering'Town, leaving the whole command of the Army to Alcimedon, who managing his advantages with admirable prudence, and leading on his Soldiers with incomparable Valour, forced away the Victory in many considerable Combats; he retook divers Towns which the Enemy had carried by Surprise, and having brought them to accept of Battle, he gained it so bloody and so entire, that Fifteen or Sixteen thousand men were slain upon the place, the rest put to flight, took the two King's Prisoners, and conducted them with all the glorious spoils to the Town where Barzanes lay sick.  
This Prince's Recovery was very forward, but this good News rendered him his health completely, and, instead of envying Alcimedon's glory, who had robbed him of the Victory, he interessed himself in it, as though he had been his Son; he writ of him to the Queen with praises that could not be given but to a Demigod, and in all things he testified as much affection to Alcimedon, as could be expected from a Father. A few days after, the Frontiers being settled through the Defeat of the Enemy's Army, and the Imprisonment of the two Kings, there remained no more business; so that marching towards the Court, and leading the two Prisoner-Princes with them, they found a very civil Treatment at Alcimedon's desire, his Soul being great and generous in all things.  
The King of the Sarmates received these good offices at his Conqueror's hands as he ought; but the Nomad hated him mortally, partly because he had slain his Brother, but most for this Imprisonment, and the cruel faithlessness of his Nature.  
'Twas in this Voyage, that Barzanes became captivated with the virtues of Alcimedon, and though he could not oblige him to declare his Birth, yet resolved to chain him to himself by undissolvable Bands; and having an only Daughter (a most fair, and amiable Princess) without consulting the Fortunes of Alcimedon (which he could not but judge great, having virtue for his portion) he resolved to bestow her on him, making him effectively his Son by alliance, as he was already by friendship.  
Alcimedon during his abode at the Court of Dacia, had almost daily seen the Princess Alithea, (that was the Name of Barzanes' Daughter) and really she was next Menalippa the most accomplished person of Dacia, and whom Alcimedon's respect to Barzanes had rendered the most considerable in his thoughts; he had made her very particular and assiduons visits, and having always designed carefully to conceal his love to Menalippa, he was nothing troubled, that the Court suspected him to entertain some thoughts for Alithea.  
Barzanes, who observed Alcimedons' assiduity with his Daughter, believed that he had a particular inclination for her, which confirmed him in the Design of making the Offer, and bound his Daughter's Fortune by so considerable an establishment. Moreover, being a Prince, whose Martial humour rendered him less artificial, he studied not a greater finess in this occasion, but opening his heart nakedly to Alcimedon, proposed this Marriage with his Daughter, as a thing he thought very advantageous; and doubtless it had been so, had not Alcimedon been Alcamenes.  
The Prince received this offer from Barzanes with a very sensible displeasure, being unable to accept it, though with his Daughter he could have settled him in the Throne of the Universe, nor could he refuse it without offending a Prince to whom he was so much obliged; and a Prince, who knowing him only by his virtue, offered him that which the Son of a great King might be contented withal. This consideration cast him into a great perplexity, yet he knew that he ought not to stick at the answer; so that being resolved, he dissembled his displeasure the best he could, and testified all kind of respect and acknowledgement for the Offer he made (protesting he had never merited the honour, but would endeavour to render himself worthy of it by that passion he had to serve him.)  
Alcimedon believed with reason that it was better to use it thus, and receive the offer of Barzanes with respect, rather expecting when his Affairs would permit him to render his lawful excuses, than provoke him in rejecting his Daughter without any probable reasons of this injurious refuse; or acquaint him with the true cause that hindered him from accepting it, that being the thing of all other, which he desired to keep most secret, imagining Barzanes would not press him so hard, as to deprive him of the opportunity of resolving with Menalippa, after what manner he ought to Treat her, believing also he would freely pardon him when the Truth was sufficiently known. Barzanes doubted not Alcimedons' consent to this alliance, and altogether satisfied with the Election he had made; arrived with his supposed Son-in-law at Tenasia within few days.  
You will not doubt, I believe, that they were gloriously received, and that a Victory so signal obtained by Alcimedon, the period put to that War by his Valour, his captivating two Kings which he brought to Tenasia, made him to be regarded as the most gallant of men; all that you can imagine in this Encounter, is below the Truth. Certain it is, that Alcimedon received from the Queen and Princess, and all the Dacian Nobility (who beheld him as their Deliverer, and a person altogether extraordinary) all the Caresses and Honour they were capable to render him.  
The Queen embracing him a thousand times, called him her Son by a special favour, and promised him all the acknowledgement he could expect from the Grandeur of his Services; Menalippa received him with a countenance expressing her love, and Caressed him from her eyes more than from her mouth, in presence of the Queen, and many other Witnesses, remitting greater testimonies of her affection, till opportunity should favour them with a private Conference; yet by the most favourable regards, she let him see her heart was not changed, filling him with all the joy he was capable to receive.  
After he had rendered his first Devoyres to the Queen and Princess, in expectation of a more particular converse with Menalippa, he retired to pay his Visit to the Wife and Daughter of Barzanes, to whom he thought this the second Compliment due, and the Queen desiring to entertain Barzanes concerning the state of the War, and the Frontiers which he had left, retired with him into her Cabinet, and would also that the Princess her Daughter (in whose prudence she did much confide) should enter into their Discourse.  
Barzanes rendered them an exact Account of the passages of this War, even to the least particular, and of the condition he had left the Enemy in; but all his Relation contained nothing but Alcimedons' praise, which the Princess harkening to with a great concern, could scarce contain her joy.  
After the Queen had harkened with admiration, and given to the brave Actions of Alcimedon the approbation they merited; Brother (said she to the Prince Barzanes) (what you have related of this valiant man, and that which we knew before, makes me resolve to recompense him, with the most important charges of this Kingdom, and retain him here at any price, to serve us in our Wars, particularly in that we are designing against Scythia, knowing no man in the World that I can better oppose against the Valour of Alcamenes, of whom Fame speaks, as of a Prince altogether miraculous; let us see, my Brother, what we can find worthy of him, and if it be possible so to oblige him, that he may never depart from us.)  
Barzanes smiled at this Discourse: (Madam, said he to the Queen, I will not believe that for all the Services I have rendered your Majesty for the time past, you can ever be indebted to me, but in your Design of recompensing and staying Alcimedon. I suppose I have rendered you a good office in preventing your intentions, by finding a means to fix him to your Service for ever, by a promise I have made him to give him my Daughter with all my Estate, and the Design I have to accomplish this Marriage so soon as I shall receive permission from your Majesty.)  
Menalippa changed colour at these words, and at this Discourse of Barzanes; and the Queen taking no notice of her alteration (the business wholly possessing her thoughts) Is it possible, my Brother, said she, that you should espouse so great an affection to this Realm, as voluntarily to sacrifice your only Daughter to the public Interest, and make her Arms the soft Chains to link this valiant man to our Service; and that your love to us, or rather to virtue, hath caused you to cast your eyes on Alcimedon, rather than on so many Princes who have sought your Alliance?  
('Tis certain, replied Barzanes, that I prefer the person of Alcimedon before that of a King, and I hold my Daughter and myself more happy in the possession of him, than of a Kingdom: Menalippa could no longer contain, but taking the word: ('Tis to love virtue, said she, as it ought to be loved; but what advantage soever Alcimedon may reap by the honour of your Alliance, are you sure he is inclined to this Marriage?) I am not sure, replied Barzanes, being not come so far; yet beside the knowledge which I formerly had of Alcimedon 's love to Alithea, he discovered himself clearly enough to me, and testified with much acknowledgement and joy, the honour he should receive by our alliance; we have held agreement ever since, and he is now with my Daughter, whose sight and entertainment he desired with great impatience, and to whom I am confident he is gone to declare his happiness.  
Barzanes made this Discourse without malice, and according to his real thoughts, imagining by appearances, that Alcimedon had received the Proposition with much satisfaction.  
But the Princess, swelled as with a draught of poison by this cruel News, and the furious Efforts of her passion suffering her not to penetrate into the resemblances of this adventure, could not but give manifest signs of the troubles that possessed her, expressing it in several emotions beyond the bounds of moderation; all the Grandeur of her Courage was necessary to hinder, and as it was very hard for her to dissemble, carrying one hand to her eyes, and feigning a great Headache, she desired the Queen's permission to retire into her Chamber.  
And passing through a Hall to go to her apartment, she saw Alcimedon near a window with the Princess Alithea, whom he seemed to entertain with some emotion and confidence; this sight redoubled her rage and her pace, so that being immediately at her Chamber, and in her Cabinet, she abandoned herself to all that choler and resentment could produce most violent.  
Her grief was mute a while, not knowing where to begin, but a little after disburdening herself with impetuosity (What, said she, am I abandoned by this perfidious man, and abandoned for Alithea? has he forsaken Menalippa, born with advantages all the World knows above Alithea, and Menalippa, who loved him more than herself, for Althaea her Subject and Inferior in all things, for Alithea, who possibly loves him not? This Traitor, this blind man, who hath with so much dissimulation abused the bounty of Menalippa, shall he injuriously quit her, without the punishment due to his Fidelity.)  
Here a torrent of tears stopped the course of her words, but having dried them, and demanding from her courage more anger than grief and tenderness, yet could she not hinder all those passions to struggle within her Soul with equal force; and those she would have driven out, maintained as strong a party as those she would have retained.  
This Alcimedon (cries she, quite transported) to whom I gave my heart the first moment that I saw him, this unknown whom I have preferred before so many great Princes, for whom I have forgot all, and for whom I have forgotten myself, this man who lated loved me with so much ardour and sincerity, he who promised to Crown me Queen of Scythia, and in a short time to discover himself to be one of the greatest Princes of the Universe, should be no other than a Deceiver, a wicked Impostor, an Infidel, who having lifted his eyes to Menalippa, or rather having been bewiched with love the Soul of that unfortunate Princess, would now sacrifice her to Barzanes' Daughter. Ah! Menalippa, Ah! easy Princess, behold the effect of thy easiness and shameful facility; that heart which ought not to be gained but by the Services, and blood of many great Princes, how hath it been cast away upon an unknown at the first sight, without paying for it the price of a sigh: This Wretch knew well the value of that which he had so easily obtained, and with reason hath he despised that which I without reason have so lightly given.  
Whilst the Princess tormented herself on this manner, and deserted her Soul to the most violent effects of passion, she saw one enter the door of her Cabinet (which was but half shut) and casting her eyes upon the first Object that presented itself, the unfortunate Alcimedon (whose evil Genius had conducted him thither, appeared before her: Belisa, to whom the mutual love of those two persons was known, supposing Menalippa's Retreat was to Alcimedon's advantage, told him he might enter into the Cabinet, and opened the Door herself; but scarce was he entered, when the furious Princess rising with precipitation from a Bed whereon she lay, and advancing towards him quite transported: Traitor, said she, hast thou the impudence to present thyself before me? Alcimedon grew pale; and recoiled some paces, quite astonished at this change; but the Princess gave him not time to open his mouth, but taking the word in a tone more elevated than before: Go, disloyal man, said she, go faithless unknown, whom I have preferred before so many great Princes, go carry thy black Treasons elsewhere, think not to make any longer abode in Dacia, where thou hast an Enemy too powerful, and too angry to leave thee secure; seek elsewhere alliances more suitable to an Infidel, and never present thyself before the unfortunate Menalippa, if thou wilt not that, with the loss of thy life, she revenge the Treasons thou hast committed against her.  
Finishing these words with an Action altogether furious, she thrust him out of the Cabinet, and shut the Door upon him.  
Alcamenes half dead with this adventure, traversed the whole apartment, without beholding any one, and retired to his lodging quite transported; there he began to undisguize his unhappiness, and to search the cause with mortal Trances; he knew himself too innocent to find, through all the actions of his life, any thing deserving this treatment, and he had always known Menalippa too reasonable to be carried to such extremities against him; without any apparent cause.  
First, he thought himself discovered for Alcamcnes, and that first thought something bridled his astonishment; but afterwards calling to mind Menalippa's cruel words, and remembering she called him unknown, and reproached him with her preference of him before so many great Princes, he knew that it was to Alcimedon, not Alcamenes, that these cruel words were addressed.  
Just gods, cried he (being confirmed in this opinion!) Is it possible that in so few moments, my Fortune should receive so strange a Revolution, and that Menalippa so just, so generous, and who an hour since by a welcome so sweet, and by regards so favourable, assured me of the continuation of my happiness, should pass into so cruel an extremity against her faithful, her innocent Alcimedon. Here he buried himself in a profound recovery, endeavouring to find out the cause of his unhappiness, and never thinking on what passed between Barzancs and himself, judging it uncapable to persuade Menalippa that he was unfaithful; so that all his study taught him only this, that he was the most unhappy of men, without being able to guess the cause; Ah Destinies (said he!) Ah Fortune! which hast been too favourable to me, I ought to have believed, that a Fortune so promptly established, could be of no long continuance; Alcamenes hath not merited those Fortunes where with thou hast favoured Alcimedon, and it is just, that by the fall of the unfortunate Alcimedon, Alcamenes should become the most miserable of all men.  
Ah! fair hopes too lightly conceived; Ah! foundations of a great Fortune laid upon sand! must you disappear? must ye perish in a moment? and must the unfortunate Alcamenes be ignorant, whence this unprovident Ruin comes!  
How, Menalippa, added he, a few moments after, must I obey your cruel Command, must I never see you more? Ah! if for the punishment of my disobedience to this Command, I had nothing to fear save the loss of that life which you threaten, you should see how much I despise Death in comparison of a separation from you.  
He arrested his thoughts some moments on this consideration, and, to flatter himself, would believe that the Princess had been prejudiced by some false appearance, or the report of an Enemy, and therefore it were better to endeavour his Justification, than to obey a Command made in the first passionate motion, which leaves the mind rather to the guidance of fury, than reason, but as he loved the most passionately of all men, and was inviolably punctual in his love and respect, he thought he could not do it without offending both, and rendering himself worthy of his cruel destiny through his disobedience.  
He balanced these things a while, and had almost persuaded him into some hope, that possibly Menalippa might alter her humour, when he saw Belisa enter his Chamber, and present him with a Billet from the Princess; he received it trembling, and having k ssed it, he put one knee to the ground, and read these words.  
MENALIPPA to ALCIMEDON.  
ENdcavour not to justify thyself with me, but depart this Enemy's Country, so soon as thou hast received my last Command, thy refusal will but more peremptorily declare thy infidelity, and carry me to extremities, which thou wilt repent, if there remains any spark of virtue in thee.  
These cruel words shot death into the desperate heart of Alcamenes, who kissing again the Billet, not without some tears which he could not retain: Yes Madam, said he, I will obey you; then turning towards Belisa (who regarded those marks of his sadness with pity) he would have said something to her, but her Maid (though touched with his misfortune) acquainted him that she had order from the Princess to hearken to nothing, and thereupon left the Chamber immediately.  
Alcimedon paused not on what he ought to do, only lifting his eyes to Heaven with a desperate regard: Let us die Alcimedon (said he) let us die, but first let us obey Menalippa; after those few words he entered into his Cabinet, where he writ a Letter to be given to Menalippa after his depart, and having called his two Scythian Squires, he commanded them to provide the three best Horses they could, to depart immediately: then taking Leander, his Dacian Esquire aside; Leander, said he, My love to thee would not have suffered me to leave thee here, were not thy stay absolutely necessary to the repose of my Soul: give therefore to morrow (or when thou canst) this Letter to Menalippa, and pass the rest of thy days in her Service, if she will honour thee with it; but I desire thee, by the affection thou bearest me, not to acquaint any with what thou knowest of this business between Menalippa and me; I am sorry that I cannot requite thy Services to my desire, or thy desert; the gods will do it for me, and till then, keep this Ring for my sake; saying these words (his face sprinkled with tears which he could not retain) he gave the Letter to Leander, and a Ring, worth more than twenty Talents. The afflicted Squire received the one and the other with a deluge of tears, deploring as much his Master's misfortune as his own, in not being permitted to follow him.  
Alcamenes satisfying the other Officers of his House with the furniture thereof, and of some Jewels, armed himself, took Horse and departed, accompanied only with his two Scythian Squires. Leaving Tenasia on this manner, which but the day before he had entered with Triumph, Applause, and a thousand fair hopes.   
The End of the Second Book of the Eighth Part of Cleopatra.   

The Eighth Part of CLEOPATRA.  
BOOK, III.  
NExt ensuing Night the Princess Menalippa passed in the most cruel inquietudes a Soul can be possessed with; all that a furious Jealousy can produce in a heart wholly given up to it, tormented hers with a pitiless violence; there were some moments wherein she seemed to repent her rigour, and her rash banishing a man whom she still loved more than her life: Belisa informed her with what respect he received the cruel order she sent him, how much the pitied him, and how dear the virtues of Alcimedon were to her, and failed not to relate the grief and despair she observed in the Face Discourses and Actions of Alcimedon.  
This Recital had something softened a heart, which was still tender with affection towards him, at least it gave the Princess some regret for her too quick proceeding, beside reflecting on the cause of her anger, she could see in any thing that Barzanes spoke, very little reason to suspect Alcimedon of infidelity, or that he should leave her for Alithea, so that there were some moments wherein she imagined him innocent.  
In this uncertainty and agitation of spirit, she passed the Night without rest, and falling asleep in the morning, it was late ere she waked, and then calling Belisa, she put her upon the Discourse of her message to Alcimedon, which after she had related with aggravation all she knew of the Princess grief, seeing the Princess more capable of Conversation than the day before, and presuming on the confidence her Lady always had in her discretion, took the liberty to demand the cause of her anger against Alcimedon; saying, it must needs be great, having carried her to such an extremity against a man she so extremely loved.  
Menalippa unable to answer without some sighs, ingenuously related the Subject of her Choler against Alcimedon, and related without disguise, all she learned from Barzanes touching the pretended Marriage of his Daughter with Alcimedon.  
Belisa no sooner heard this Discourse, but striking her breast: Ah! Madam, is this all the cause of that great anger which hath banished Alcimedon for ever!  
And judge you not Belisa, replied the Princess, That I have reason to banish an unfaithful man, who left me for the Daughter of Barzanes: Ah! Madam, replied Belisa, What a cruel injustice have you committed, and how have you exercised all your rigour against an innocent? The poor Alcimedon before he came (by his misfortunes) to the door of your Cabinet, whither I conducted him myself, finding me in your Antichamber, and knowing you kept nothing concerning him as a secret from me, entertained me a great while, concerning the intention of Barzanes, and the offer he made of his Daughter; but I can assure you, Madam, his intentions held no correspondence with those of Barzanes, and that he negotiated with that Prince, only out of Civility due to the Uncle of Menalippa: He testified to me nakedly the trouble he was in, how handsomely to evade the offer of Barzanes, and entered your Cabinet, with a design of conferring with you, and receiving order and counsel thereupon.  
Belisa thus spoke the truth, and Menalippa finding a likelihood in her Discourse; began insensibly to be cured of her jealousy, and more and more persuaded of Alcimedons' innocency; being a thing she more desired than her life; she endeavoured all possible means to get out of this cruel Error, for according to reason and common sense, there was small appearance that Alcimedon should quit her for Alithea, which opening her eyes to the Truth, she began to accuse her rashness when to complete the Victory, they told her that Barzanes was at her Chamber-door, waiting to give her the good morrow.  
Though Menalippa was in no condition to be seen, the respect she bore her Uncle, and much more the design of clearing Alcimedons' innocency from his mouth, which begat her suspicion, she commanded they should bring him in.  
Barzanes being at the Bedside, took a Seat by the Princess' command, and after the first Discourses of Civility, the impatient Menalippa wanted not pretence for her design, but put the Prince her Uncle upon the Discourse of his Daughter's Marriage, and desired him to acquaint her sincerely with what had passed touching that Affair, and what testimonies he had received of Alcimedon's love to Alithea, and after what manner he had taken the boldness to demand her in Marriage.  
Barzanes, who was a Prince sincere, and without artifice, told the Princess ingenuously, that Alcimedon had never spoken to him concerning his Daughter, and would have been less hardy to demand her in Marriage; but having considered virtue, and preferred it above all other establishments he could expect or wish her, and supposing thereby to render an important Service to the State, in detaining Alcimedon, he intended to give him his Daughter, and made no difficulty to offer her to him. Alcimedon testified no particular design towards this alliance, but received the favour with great respect, and many testimonies of acknowledgement, which would not permit him to fancy he had any repugnance to this Proposition; and although Alcimedon had loved Alithea, yet the disproportion of their Fortunes might well hinder its discovery.  
The more Barzanes talked, the more Menalippa was confirmed in the knowledge of the Truth, and ere her Uncle left the Chamber, she doubted not but that Alcimedon had only acted out of Civility, and the respect he thought due to a Prince that loved him, and who was Uncle to his Princess. Her Soul quickly resumed its former Seat, and that violent passion, which had dislocated it, deceding to the pity she conceived at the Report of Belisa, of those marks of grief she saw upon the face of Alcimedon, began now to repent the rigour of her proceeding, when a little after Barzanes was gone, Belisa presented her with the faithful Squire of Alcimedon to whom that Prince had delivered a Letter to Menalippa.  
The Princess who knew him, having often seen him with his Master, changed colour so soon as he entered her Chamber; but when she beheld in his eyes all the appearances of a mortal sadness, and some tears which the afflicted man could not retain, she felt her heart beat exceedingly, and with great trouble commanded him to draw near, and acquit himself of his Commission.  
The Princesses Command made Leander more confident, and having excused the liberty which his obedience to his Master had necessitated him to, he presented her with a Letter, which she received without speaking, and opening it with an action full of tenderness and repentance, read these words.  
ALCIMEDON to the Princess MENALIPPA.  
Divine Princess,  
I Shall not endeavour my justification since you have forbidden it, and Alcimedon must needs be criminal, since his just and sovereign Princess hath thought him so; only I protest my Crime is unknown to me, for since my glorious destiny conducted me to your feet, I know not wherein I have failed, no not in the least thought, of that adoration which I owe you. I obey without murmur the arrest you have pronounced, and depart with as much love and veneration for you, as if this Exile to which I am condemned, were meant an act of grace, and recompense of my Services. That relic of my life which is left me, shall be always yours, though not acknowledged by you, and death from whom alone I can receive the remedy of my misfortunes, shall never be able to alter or alienate my affections: I beg not the return of that felicity which I have lost as I gained, and which good and bad Fortune hath given to, and taken from me, without any merit or crime known to me; but only (if this prayer may be permitted) that you would not shut your eyes against the Truth, if favourable to me, and that you will not hate after death, the memory of,  
Alcimedon.  
The Truth which already entirely appeared to the spirit of Menalippa, needed no such puissant succours to convince her, for it had produced such effects on the tender heart of the Princess, that Leander and Belisa easily perceived it, her tears which bedewed the Letter, gave the first signal, and sighs and sobs which followed them, confirmed their persuasions; after a little pause, addressing herself to Leander, she asked him where his Master was? And the disconsolate Esquire had no sooner related his precipitate depart, with the pitiful circumstances that accompanied it, but the sad Princess felt herself struck as with a Clap of Thunder; How, said she to Leander, Is not thy Master in Tenasia? And you may add, Madam (replied he) Is he any longer in the World, being unable to imagine he departed from Tenasia upon any other design than that of dying. To these words he added many more, which had almost lodged death in the heart of this afflicted Princess, who learning with what despair he departed, yet also with how much resignation and respect to her command, she became the Subject of grief, fear and repentance. She mightily endeavoured to shadow part of her passions from Leander, and believing that after this Adventure Alcimedon would have less care to disguise himself she asked Leander, whether he knew the true condition of his Master; I never knew it, replied he, nor desired to learn, since it was his will I should be ignorant; and as all things declare the greatness of his birth, so the magnificence of a Present he made me ere he went, confirms me in the opinion of the grandeur of his Fortune; whereupon he showed the Ring Alcimedon gave him, and Menalippa with Belisa having beheld it, both judged that such a Present could not come, but from a great Prince; after several Discourses which the Princess with great agitation made, Leander, said she, I do not think that in that little time since your Master departed, he can be far from hence; go therefore and follow him with all possible speed, and if you become so happy as to overtake him, give him from me a Letter which I am going to write. I should be sorry that Dacia should lose so valiant a man, and one from whom we have had so many obligations, if it lyethin my power to call him back; do what you can to find him, but if you succeed not happily, return to give me an account; and stay in my Service, since it is the desire of your Master, being the least acknowledgement we can render for those Services he hath done us. She sealed these words with a gift, and obliged him instantly to take Horse, and follow upon the Tract of his Master, having given him a Letter which she writ in his absence.  
After Leander was gone, Menalippa commanded that Visitants should know she was indisposed, that she might remain peaceably in her mournful solitude, and desiring the Queen also to leave her this day free, she consumed it wholly in tears, and laments, wherewith she celebrated the sad departure of Alcamenes; it would be difficult (great Princesses) to relate all the complaints she made on the lightness of her belief, and the promptness of her anger.  
But if in these first days (whilst there remained any hope of the return of Alcimedon by Leander's diligence) she afflicted herself moderately; her grief became excessive when after a Month's search, she saw the afflicted Esquire return without any News of his Master. All that a sensible grief could produce in a Soul capable of the most violent passions, like that of Menalippa, tormented hers with most violent assaults, and had not the discreet Princess imputed the cause of her sadness to her indisposition, whereinto her grief had really cast her, she had been discovered to the Queen and Court of Dacia; where, though she was the most afflicted for the departure of Alcimedon, yet was she not singular in her resentments; the Queen, who beside an inclination she had to for his virtue, having lost so valiant a man, and on whom she had founded so much hope, became unspeakably sorrowful at the News of his departure!  
Barzanes, who loved him as his Son, and who saw the hopes he had entertained of his alliance vanish, could receive no consolation: All were at a loss in guessing the cause, what care soever they took to discover it; only their griefs were seconded by the general sorrow of all Dacia for the loss of so valiant a man.  
The Queen understanding that the Forces of her Allies were on their march, prepared herself for the Scythian Voyage, and mounted those Troops she had long since designed for that Expedition; and found a way to increase her power by an addition of that of the Sarmates and Nomades, whose Kings were by the Valour of Alcimedon still in her Prisons; these two Princes sent her word, that if she would restore them their liberty, they would serve her with all the Force of their States in the Scythian War.  
The Queen by the advice of her Council, harkened to these Propositions, and a little after having generously freed them, they left Tenasia, and marched with diligence towards their Kingdoms, where they had Troops ready for the Field, and in a condition to march, so soon as any of the rest who had been so long a preparing before them.  
At last (to abride my Discourse) Merodates entered Dacia with Four thousand Horse, and Eight thousand Foot; and Orosmenes with Six thousand Horse, but no Infantry; and at the same time the Queen understood that the Prince of Bithynia with Three thousand Horse, and Twelve thousand Foot; and the Prince of Pont with Fourteen thousand Foot, and Two thousand Horse, would be in a few days at the Rendezvouz appointed.  
Amalthea raised in Dacia, and amongst the Geteses, and Gelons her Subjects, more than Eight thousand Horse, and Five and twenty thousand Foot; scarce were they ready, when in execution of their promises, Pharnaces King of the Sarmates, and Orchomenes King of the Nomads appeared; the first with Three thousand Horse, and Seven thousand Foot; the latter with Two thousand Horse, and Eight thousand Foot.  
This numerous Army composed of more than Eight and twenty thousand Horse, and Sixty five thousand Foot, and commanded by many valiant Kings and Princes, had probability enough of overpowering Scythia, or any other Country it should fall into; and the Queen Amalthea could not see herself at the Head of such an Army, without giving absolute credit to the Oracles which promised the Crown of Scythia to Menalippa; She committed the charge of the Dacians, Geteses and Gelons to the Prince Barzanes, which made the greatest one part of the Army, and she could not have given them a more valiant or experienced Chief, but she sighed for grief not to see Alcimedon on her side, fancing her Troops unvincible, had this great person fought at their Head. But if the absence of Alcimedon afflicted the Queen and Barzanes, it incomparably more tormented the inconsolable Menalippa; but for Merodates, Euardes, Phrataphernes, and the other Rival Princes, it became a Subject of rejoicing to them, and particularly the disloyal Orchomenes, Prince of the Nomads, in whom injuries had made an impression against his Conqueror, more than all his civilities during his Captivity, resolving to endeavour his destruction by all ways possible, without any consideration of honour, or the rank of Prince which he held,  
Over this numerous Army, composed of so many different Nations, and commanded by so many Princes, there wanted a General in Chief, whom all the rest ought to obey; for this great Body must have a Head to actuate its members; to this honour all these Princes pretended equally; Merodates the most fierce and valiant, though the youngest demanded it expressly, and said aloud, That he was most worthy of it, though possibly the least powerful.  
Phrataphernes, Euardes, Orosmenes, Parnaces, and the wicked Orchomenes, had as many reasons to pretend to it; and Barzanes, a King's Son (though no Sovereign) a great experienced Captain, and commanding already the greatest one part of the Army, would not yield the command, but as reasonably as they, hoped for it: But the Queen ended the controversy, by demanding it sor herself; reasoning, that having armed them all in hers, and the Princess Menalippas' quarrel, it was just that Menalippa and herself should take the journey in person, and march to a Conquest wherein Menalippa was particularly engaged, since the gods promised it to her only. All the Princes understood with joy the resolution of the Queen, and all the pretenders to the Princess were ravished to know that she should be an eye-witness of those gallant things they intended to perform for her sake.  
Menalippa, who was more naturally addicted to Masculine, than Feminine Exercises, whose strength yielded to that of few men, and whose contival Hunting-imployment had perfected her in-riding, and casting the Javelin to attaque the most furious Beasts with her naked Sword, had so hardened her body to all sorts of toils; and having long since espoused the resentments of the Queen her Mother, against the King of Scythia, she embraced the resolution with joy, and prepared with some consolation to carry against the Scythians whom she hated, the effects of her despair, innocently caused by him she most tenderly loved.  
Some sparks of hope failed not to kindle, that the bruit of this War, with her personal appearance therein, might cause Alcimedon to appear, signalizing and reconciling himself to her by some gallant action, or some wound received for her interest; this hope, which was not without a foundation, rendered her more gay than ordinary, and made her prepare for this Expedition with much resolution; and, the Queen permitting, she covered her body with a Cuirasse, and her fair face with a terrible Helmet, and built herself up into an Amazon, nothing less courageous or vigorous, than the most gallant of those valiant women, who have filled the Earth with their Reputation.  
I will hold you no longer with these preparations: This great Armado conducted by the Queen, the Princess, and so many Princes, dislodged from the place where the Rendezvouz had been kept, and in a gallant posture, marched towards Scythia, which it entered by the Province of the Napeens, where Amalthea carrying Fire and Sword, desolated whatever the found in her passage; but meeting with nothing capable of staying her upon the Frontiers, she marched towards this capital City, with great confidence of subjecting this powerful Kingdom under the Dominion of the Dacians.  
The King Orontes, who supposed Dacia more inflamed by the Arms of the Sarmates than it was, and who could not imagine Amalthea would be so soon in a condition of bringing the War into his Country with so great a power, had been a little slow in putting himself in a posture of defence, and had not fortified his Frontiers against the Enemy's arrival, as he might; yet being one of the greatest Kings of the world, and commanding a greater number of Provinces, furnished with Martial men, having sent orders to the Sarcarians, Napeens, Massagetes, Issedons, Dahes, Arimaspes, Rimnicians, Pesicians, Amordiens, Histians, Edonians, Enchatians, Cokers, Cameenes, Antarians, and many other Nations which composed his Monarchy; he raised quickly above Thirty thousand Horse, and Fifty thousand Foot; 'tis true, that before these Troops were fit to serve him, according to his intent, those of the Queen of Dacia were far advanced in his Country, and had every where left the cruel marks of her passage: The King Orontes, a brave and valiant Captain, having reduced his Army into a gallant posture, and believing that although his number was inferior to that of his Enemies, yet the Scythian Valour would supply the default; so not expecting the Dacians in the Metropolis, he marched in excellent order towards the Enemy, resolving to give them Battle.  
Now was his Soul filled with grief for the absence of Alcamenes, and this Son on whom he had founded such fair hopes, or rather from whom he expected the Victory, and the defence of his Estates, appeared not in a time wherein his assistance was absolutely necessary; and the King knowing he wanted no courage to seek such dangers, nor affection for his Father and Country, feared lest by some sad accident he were lost for ever, and knew not how to accusehim as ungrateful or unnatural, lest he should accuse an innocent, and possibly a Prince who was no more in being; a hundred times did this sad remembrance draw sighs from his breast, and his whole Kingdom, who had adored the fair beginnings of Alcamenes, universally participated of his resentments, highly regretting the absence of their valiant Defender.  
In the mean while the King being advanced to the City Nicaea, a place very fair and strongly fortified, encompassed with a great Plain, where he quartered his whole Army, resolved to attend the Enemy, who lay not above two days march from thence, and who approached him with all diligence. The King resolving to give them Battle, divides his Army into four Bodies: The first composed of Massagetes, Dahes, Sagues and Napeens, he gave to be commanded by Madates Prince of the Massagetes: The second composed of Arimaspes, Rimnicians, Pesicians and Amordiens, to Cleogaris' Prince of the Amordiens: The third consisting of the Etheens, Histians, Edoniens, Enchateenes, and Ariaces, to Alcastes Prince of the Etheens; & retained the fourth for himself, form of the Isedons, Cameens, Antraians', Camaces, Satarchiens, Aseens, Agrippeenes, Tauroscythes, and divers other Nations.  
The Queen Amalthea bestirring herself in this War, and giving orders by the counsel of the Prince Barzanes, having first called all the other Princes, advanced within the sight of Nicaea, and encamped in that great Plain, within fifty stades of the Scythians.  
The King of Scythia sent out Scouts to discover the Enemy, who skirmishing upon the place, hindered the commodious lodging of Amalthea's Troops, and their preparation to give Battle the day following. Orontes might have further incommoded his Enemy, by seizing some places of advantage, whereby he might have disputed their passage; but having no Design to draw this War out at length, and confiding marvellously in the Valour of his Scythians he gave the Enemy all convenience to lodge, and prepare for the Battle so much desired by both parties.  
The marrow, Amalthea having gathered all the Princes into her Tent, and by their counsel given the last order for the Battle, and having learned the disposition of the Scythian Army; by the counsel of Barzanes, she divides hers into four Bodies, after the Enemy's example; Phrataphernes and Orosmenes, with the Inhabitants of Pont, and the Basternes, commanded the first; Barzanes alone, with the Dacians, Geteses and Gelones (Subjects of Amalthea) made the second; Pharnaces and Orchomenes, with the Sarmates and Nomades, their Subjects, took the third place; and Merodates, who had learned that Orontes was in the fourth Body, would be his opposite, hoping to terminate this War by his Valour, and the Scythian-King's death; and Euardes being joined to him, composed their fourth Body of the Bithinians and Tauriques: All agreed that on the day of Battle (as the Queen's Representative) the Prince Barzanes should be General, yet not to claim a propriety of the place for the future; and they rather chose to submit to him, than that the pretenders to Menalippa should obey each other. This Army was stronger by a fifth part, than that of the Scythians, and commanded by valiant Princes, each of which might with reason entertain hopes of Victory.  
The Queen of Dacia could not without trembling think of the event of this great day, and had she not believed the Oracles, which promised the Crown of Scythia to the Princess Menalippa, her perplexity had been far greater.  
All the pretending Princes made a Parade before their Princess, and there was not one of them that promised her not the King Orontes' Head; they all seemed very angry that the Prince Alcamenes was not in the enemy's Camp, against whom they had made so many menaces, and upon whose death they hoped to raise Trophies of Reputation. Amalthea, who had heard the Valour of the Scythian Prince spoken of with fear and admiration, received the News of his absence with a proportionate joy, and a happy Omen of a good success; of her own Dacians, she retained Four thousand for hers, and the Princess' Guard, causing them to stand in battalia before their Tents, which she ordered to be environed with a Ditch, such a one as could be cast up in so short a time.  
At length both Armies being drawn into Battalia, the Chiefs of each marched towards each other in excellent order; but when they came in sight, they sent their Salutes by dreadful shouts and exclamations.  
Orontes and Barzanes having quitted their particular charges to give general orders, caused the Signal of Battle to be given, so that Phrataphernes and Orosmenes on the one side, and Mandates Prince of the Massagetes on the other, began this cruel day. They amused themselves for a while with a Combat of Arrows, but both parties being experienced, and the impatience of their Chiefs which breathed nothing but Victory, the one in a just defence of his Country, the other for the Conquest of Menalippa; brought them quickly to a conjunction; and here it was that the fight became terrible and bloody.  
The second Bodies followed the first, and after those the rest, impatient for the danger, and consequently for the glory, hardly expected orders for the onset, but falling on with a terrible impetuosity, gave death a perfect dominion on every side.  
It will be hard for me (great Ladies) and troublesome to you, to relate all the particulars of this Battle. I will pass over that which is not necessary for you to know, and relate only what imports much the continuation of this History, and that which composeth one of the most remarkable parts thereof.  
The Plain was already covered with dead bodies, and drowned with blood on all sides; the Air resounded with the cries of wounded and dying men, and every where the Battle put on a terrible and hideous face. Here the Dacians sunk under the Arms of the Scythians, and there the Scythians turned their backs to the Dacians; the mixture of different Nations, and their different manner of fight increased the confusion, and a great part of the day was past, ere it could be discerned to which side the Victory would incline; when the Princes, Rivals in Menalippa's love, impatient of the Victory, and desiring to signalise themselves in carrying the prize of this glorious day, began to make extraordinary Assaults, the Princes of the Satarcheens and Arimaspes, fell under the Swords of Phrataphern and Orosmenes; those of the Aseens and Edoniens lost their lives by the hand of Euardes and Pharnaces: Orchomenes, wicked as he was, fought with very much Valour; but the brave Merodates, though he had already slain the Chiefs of the Agripeens and Antarians, and defeated the Enemy wheresoever he addressed himself: yet not satisfied with his Valour, unless it had performed some more important Service; and knowing that the death of the King of Scythia was the price of Menalippa, it being the most equal revenge of the King her Father's death; he sought him on every side, and desired nothing more than to sacrifice his life to Amalthea's resentments; nor was it hard to find him, for this valiant Prince, maugre the dignity of his Age, which (though still vigorous) might well have cooled that boiling heat, that commonly hurries men into such dangers, ran from Rank to Rank, carrying Death and Victory wherever he went, and bathing himself in the blood of his Enemies.  
Merodates' having pierced many Squadrons and Battalions, met him at last, and knowing him by divers marks: King of Scythia, cried he, I come to receive death from thy hands, or to sacrifice thee to the Ghost of Decebalus, and the resentments of Amalthea; disdain not to turn thine Arms against me, I am Merodates King of the Taurique Chersonese.  
The King of Scythia had neither intent nor leisure to answer these words, but covering himself with his Buckler, prepared to receive his powerful Adversary, and to overthrow with him the effect of this cruel menace.  
At the first strokes these two Princes mutually knew each others Valour, and though Merodates was in the flower of his Youth, and valiant amongst the most valiant, yet he soon understood that this Victory was not so soon or easily to be obtained, as he imagined, but whilst these two Princes fought obstinately, in despite of the throng of those who endeavoured to part them; and Orontes, busied wholly to defend his life against the fury of Merodates, was constrained to quit the function of a General. Barzanes taking advantage of this disorder, charged the Scythian Troops with so much vigour, and was so well seconded by Phrataphernes, Euardes, Pharnaces, and Orosmanes, that defeating the Etheens, Cameens, and the Histians, with their Princes, made the Scythian Army stagger, and at length visibly give ground.  
Barzanes and his valiant Companions knowing their advantage, made use thereof with prudence and courage, and at last perceived a large path to Victory; but on that side where the King Orontes fought with Merodates advantageously enough they saw appear a body of Cavalry of some two thousand Horse, conducted by a man covered with black Arms, who entering the Battle with an impetuosity, to which the already wearied Troops were forced to give place, carrying a terrible disorder to that side against which he addressed himself; he that headed these succours, struck like lightning, or something more terrible, nor could such blows be expected from a mortal.  
This unknown having learned intelligence of the Combat wherein the King was engaged with Merodates, spurred forward with an unresistible fury, where Orontes, yielding to the youthful vigour of Merodates, disputed his life with more courage than hope, and rushing in between them, let fall so powerful a stroke upon the head of Merodates, that staggering in his Saddle, he had not force to oppose his Buckler to a second blow, which falling also with a fury greater than the first, threw Merodates, valiant as he was, under his Horse's feet.  
The Prince of the Tauriques was no sooner fallen, but the name of Alcamenes resounded on every side, and running from mouth to mouth, gave as much courage to the Scythians as terror to their Enemies.  
After the fall of Merodates, Alcamenes (for it was he) having wearied part of his men about the King, to favour the refreshment his weariness required, threw himself with an incomparable fury upon the Princes his Enemies, and knowing them by divers tokens, disdained to bear his force against the rest, but carried his resentments wholly against them.  
Euardes and Orosmanes were so unhappy as to be found in his passage, and the fierce Scythian knowing them, sent forth a furious Cry, as a prologue to their fate, and seconded it with a blow which laid Euardes with his Horse upon the ground, and striking a reverse blow upon the Head of Orosmanes, clavae it in two pieces, and threw him breathless amongst the feet of the Combatants; then turning towards Euardes, whose followers endeavoured to lift him up, and disdaining to regain so entire a Victory: Euardes (said he) thou shalt possibly see before the end of this War, whether or no it be easy to Chain Alcamenes.  
He stayed no longer on this side, but seeking his Rivals every where, met with Phrataphernes, and with a blow of his Sword laid him upon the Earth, forcing him to seek his safety amongst the Soldiers of Pharnaces and Orosmanes. After these great Actions which changed the face of the Battle, running with his valiant Troop in all places where his Succours were necessary, encouraging the fearful, and strengthening the feeble; so raising the Affairs of his party, that the Victory which but now declared itself for the Dacians, stood in an equal balance for some time, and a little after began to turn on the Scythian side. But the Day already declining, the Night prevented the entire decision of the Quarrel.  
If Alcamenes had not the glory through want of time to carry away an entire Victory, yet he justly had that of preserving his side, his Country, and possibly the life of the King his Father: He saw Barzanes often in the throng, and knew him by his charge, and divers other marks; but instead of turning his Sword against him, he defended him from his own party, and assured his life so much as it was possible for him.  
The darkness had not been able to separate the Combatants, if the King of Scythia of the one side, and Prince Barzanes on the other, had not sounded a Retreat, and compelled the Soldiers to return to the Camp. The Scythians lost Thirty thousand men, and the Dacians almost Forty thousand, besides the great Number of wounded, which were by either side during the obscurity of the Night, drawn out from the rest of the Army.  
The King Orentes having performed all things which the necessity of his Affairs required, either to favour his Retreat, or to give necessary orders for the wounded, wearied with the travel of the day, and the incommodity of some light wounds he had received, retired to his Tent, where he resolved to lodge, and not to enter the Town, though he might have quartered there with more commodity and assurance.  
If he entertained some displeasure for the loss of his men, and through the apprehension which this day's success imprinted in his mind, yet the last events thereof became a refreshing comfort; and understanding by the common voice, that he was delivered out of the hands of Merodates by Alcamenes, whose Names he heard resounded on all sides; and that Alcamenes, whose absence he lamented, or rather whose loss he deplorred, was the person by whose Valour alone the success of the Battle was changed, and the destiny of Scythia in that Battle, this filled him with transports of joy, and an impatience to receive this beloved Son, from whom he had received so signal and opportune succours; scarce had he given way to the first motions of those delightful passions, when he saw the Prince enter his Tent, followed by the Chief of those who had been partakers and witnesses of his brave Actions. Alcamenes taking off his Casque, threw himself at the King's feet, kissing his hand with a profound respect; and the King transsported with an excess of joy, cast his Arms about his Neck with a thousand embraces full of love and tenderness.  
My Lord, said Alcamenes, I am culpable, and scarce can I hope even from your bounty any pardon for my fault.  
My Son, replied the King,, if your departure possessed me with grief, your return has not brought a less consolation, nor could you have rendered it more dear and remarkable, than in the safety of your Father, and his whole Army.  
Alcamenes replied to this Discourse with much respect and modesty, and the King rendered him all the Caresses due to such a Son as the great Alcamenes, to whom he had such fresh obligations.  
A little after casting his eyes upon the Prince's face, he beheld a very great change, and observed there the footsteps of that grief which had of late tormented his Soul, but reserved the inquiry of the cause to a better leisure; and as the life of his Son was dearer to him than his own, the care of himself gave place to that of Alcamenes, and scarce would he suffer those light wounds he received to be searched, till he saw his Son in perfect health.  
The Prince abused not his bounty, and would not leave the King till he had seen his wounds dressed.  
After he had received the good Night, he retired to his Chamber, where almost all the Officers of the Army (transported with the joy of his return) came to kiss his hands ere he went to Bed, having not the patience to expect till Morning so desired a sight; nor could Alcamenes deny them, what incommodity soever it might produce. I see, great Princess, that you are astonished to find Alcamenes with his Father, without knowing how he came thither, and ignorant of what happened to him since his depart from Tenasia, and it being just that I relate something of it, I will succinctly do it, without wand'ring much from the Thread of my Discourse.  
The desperate Prince left Tenasia in a most deplorable condition, and hasting from the place whence Menalippa had banished him with all possible diligence, so that in one Night, and the Day following, he was distant from Tenasia more than three ordinary day's Journeys; he chose no Path nor Retreat: In the Estate wherein he was, nothing being more odious to him than life, which he so neglected, that few days would have put an end thereto, had not the diligence of his Squires prevented. He left off those fair and famous Arms which under the Name of Alcimedon had rendered him so well known in Dacia, and all other places where he carried them, and delivering them to his Esquires to keep, he covered himself with black ones in their stead, embroidered they were with branches of silver, underneath which he doubted not to remain unknown. I will not relate his continual sorrows, wherein he always reserved a profound respect for Menalippa, not permitting himself the consolation of a murmur against her commands.  
At length he arrived upon the Frontiers of Dacia, and his Esquires (not knowing what would be his Design) saw him fall sick of a Disease which proceeded from his Grief, and had like to have brought him to his Grave; they found the commodity to conduct him to a little Town though against his will, where they concealed both his true Name, and also that of Alcimedon by his own order, and there they served him so carefully, that what neglect soever he had for his life, they preserved it by their diligence and entreaties, yet could not this health be restored in some Months, during which time, though he yielded to the will of his Esquires, and received the succours of nourishment which they gave, yet he lived in such a manner, that his life could not be properly called any other than a continual death.  
In the mean while the great Discourse was concerning the preparations against Scythia, and being perfectly cured of the indisposition of his body, he left the little Town to continue his Journey, hearing that the Rival Princes had joined their Troops with those of the Queen of Dacia, and had begun their march towards Scythia.  
What Despair soever possessed his Soul, and how great an indifference he showed to all things that regarded not the cause of his grief, he could not but kindle at this report; and as he loved Honour as dearly as Menalippa, and always preserved great tendernesses and respects for his Father, the almost extinguished flame of courage began to rekindle; neither could his mortal sadness forbid him to go whither his Honour and Paternal Love, and the hatred he bore to those presumptuous Rivals called him.  
He found himself daily more and more confirmed in this solution, but it was resisted by the love of Menalippa,; and considering that he could not take up Arms for his Father, without turning them against his Princess, he knew not how to satisfy both his duty and his love, nor please the one, without offending the other; How! would he say, shall I not succour the King my Father against those unworthy Rivals, who perhaps aim more at his Life, than his Kingdom? And alas! replied he, How shall I fight against Menalippa, to whom, maugre her cruelty, I will perserve a faith inviolable so long as I live; But ah! I must not leave the King my Father without assistance, in the extremities to which his life may be exposed so long as I can hold a Sword; and yet shall I carry my Arms against Menalippa. No, the deuce of Nature cannot disengage me from those of love.  
With these Contests he grievously tormented himself, visiting many unknown Provinces, or rather many Forests and horrible Deserts where he ordinarily sought his Retreats, unable to to take any certain resolution, and I think he would have remained irresolute to the end, without being able to declare either against Love or Nature, if in passing near a Temple of Apollo (famous for the Oracle, it gave) he had not consulted that god, at the solicitations of his Esquires, whose answer was thus,  THE ORACLE, Go, Thy Father help, thy Mistress see; And so, Repress that Grief which presseth thee. 
This Answer so clear beyond the custom of the Oracle, wrought very much upon the spirit of Alcamenes, and resolved the doubt of what resolution he ought to take, and something eleveated his abated hopes, he resolved therefore without weighing the business any further, to march and succour his Father and Country; and he fancied that by the command of the Oracle which enjoined him to revisit his Princess he ought to hope for a change in his Fortune, the storm of that anger which made her banish him, being blown over.  
These meditations dissipating part of his sadness, gave him his health and entire forces, and put him into a condition of serving his Father against the lovers of Menalippa. He entered Scythia a few days after, covered with the same black Arms he had born ever since his depart from Tenasia, and marched directly to the City of Serica, where the King made his abode; but before he got thither, he understood that the King was gone to meet the Enemy, and by good Fortune, lighting upon Two or three thousand Horse which were the last Levies of the Province of the Issedons, and the choice of Oronte's Cavalry, Alcamenes made himself known unto them, and putting himself at their Head, marched with all possible speed to Nicaea, and reached it on the day of Battle as I have related.  
On this manner the Prince Alcamenes passed his life since his depart from Tenasia, and because there happened nothing memorable to him, during that time, I have comprised it in a few words, but will relate at large the following Events, which seem to me more worthy your attention.  
Scarce had the Prince, whose resentments were divided betwixt Love and Duty, rendered as he thought what was due to the one, but he felt himself sollited to do the same Justice to the other; and as in succouring the King his Father, he had obeyed part of the command of the gods, he believed to that whereby they commanded him to see the Princess Menalippa was due an equal obedience, and he found himself powerfully enough carried by his inclination, though he had not been obliged thereto by Religion.  
He already resolved of the order he ought to take, though it was not without trembling, that he disposed himself to appear before Menalippa, and it may be (valiant as he was) he would never have had the assurance to have done it, if by the command of the gods he had not been encouraged, and by the success of the beginning he had not expected a like event to the last effects of his obedience.  
The morrow so soon as he was up, he called Cleomenes, a young man whom he loved dearly, and who had been nourished with him; in age and person so like they were that a great part of the Scythians supposed him a subreptitious Child of the King Orontes, he had indeed exceedingly the hair of the Prince, whereby you might judge him (next to Alcamenes) the handsomest man amongst the Scythians; he waited not on Alcamenes in his Travels, because he was not with him in the Province whence he departed, having a little before sent him to the King his Father upon an important Affair.  
And besides that Cleomenes could not but be lovely since he resembled Alcamenes, so was he also valiant and hardy, having given on divers occasions great proofs of his courage.  
Alcamenes no sooner saw him, than (through the confidence he had in his discretion and fidelity, and the need he was in of his Service) he declared part of his mind concerning what he intended to do.  
Cleomenes received with great respect the Prince's confidence, and disposed himself to render him all the Service he could desire; nor could Alcamenes serve himself with either of those Esquires that waited on him in his Journey, both having been extremely wounded in the Battle, fight near his person, nor would be in case to quit their Beds in many days, without danger of their lives; at the door of his Tent he caused excuses to be made to all those that came to visit him, then arming himself in those Arms he left off when he departed from Scythia, and bearing on his Arm the Buckler, by whose device he was so well known to the Dacians, and taking Horse early, he ordered them to tell the King he was gone to visit the Quarters, expecting his awaking, and would return immediately; divers persons would have accompanied him, but he would admit only Cleomenes; and covering his Buckler with a Cloth, lest it should be too much observed by the Scythians, he visited first some Quarters, and having made a little Circuit, he marched towards this Dacian Camp, and the Queen's Tents.  
It was in this Camp that rage and fury bare sway, for the Queen was afflicted, that a Victory which she supposed fast in her Arms, should escape by the arrival of Alcamenes, and that she had lost more men than the King of Scythia; and all those Princes who a little before that made so many Menaces against Alcamenes, and who had been in this Encounter knocked down chased and wounded, by his Sword, without any difficulty joined their particular discontents to the general displeasure, and full of shame, anger and grief, laid the cause of their misfortune upon him that was no way culpable.  
He had abated the fury of Merodates, the pride of Euardes, and valiant Phraterphern, Orosmanes he had slain, and made Pharnaces and Orchomenes fly, so that the greatest consolation they could find, was, that the disgrace was Epidemical and common to them all, and that there was not one amongst them that could deride his Companions. Barzanes alone was exempt from their Destiny, nor did he scruple to say, That he knew well (though he ignored the cause) that Alcimenes spared him.  
So soon as it was Morning, the Queen Amalthea proposed a Truce to the King of Scythia by the counsel of Barzanes, for three days to bury the slain of both parties, and particularly the Prince of the Basternes, whose loss was very much regretted, and to whom they would render Honours proportionable to his Quality.  
A little after Amalthea called an assembly of the Princes and although Phratapherne and Pharnaces were a little wounded, they would assist and appear amongst the rest.  
Never was a less pleasant Assembly seen, and if the Queen could not dissemble her displeasures, to see her fair hopes so recoil, the Princes could not hide the rage, and much less the shame of their misfortunes, not daring to lift their eyes to Menalippa, to whom they had so often promised the Head of Alcamenes.  
This Lady, though she interessed herself in the displeasures of the Queen her Mother, and and in that she had formerly entertained very much aversion to Alcamenes, which received an access by this last action, having in a few moments ruined a great part of their expectations, yet could she not afflict herself for the misfortunes of the Princes; and as her aversion against, was greater than her inclinations for them, all her affection being centred in Alcimedon, she could not be troubled to see the event of what that Prince had foretold, and viewed with a kind of malignant joy, the confusion she beheld in their faces.  
After the Queen had made some propositions concerning the state of affairs, and deliberated upon what was most pressing; Merodates burning with choler, and wracked with different passions, his eyes sparkling with a transport of fury, broke silence with an action altogether terrible, and addressing himself to the Queen, Madam (said he) I dare confidently say, that without the coming of Alcamenes, the Victory had been yours, and for that which regards my particular, I dare say again, that I had revenged you upon Orontes, if the arrival of Alcamenes, had not snatched, with the Victory; the life of his Father out of my hands. Alcamenes is valiant without doubt, but it is certain that he surprised me in the Combat, not giving me time to defend myself; nor are his forces so much superior to mine, that had he not assaulted me; when I had another valiant enemy before me, and wearied already as I was, by a long Combat, he had not laid me on the ground with two blows of his Sword; I think myself as strong and valiant as he, and I have a design, if you please to permit, to measure my forces with his in an equal Combat, whereto I will defy him: for beside my particular resentments, I am carried by your interests much more; and in repairing my honour, as I hope, I shall take away the most puissant obstacle of your design, who will always dispute the victory, which you might easily obtain, were he either absent or dead. Doubt not of what I say; 'tis Alcamenes alone can traverse you more than all the rest of Scythia; and that man who takes him out of the world, will do a more considerable service, than if he had reduced half Scythia under your obedience. This day (with your leave) I will send a Herald to their Camp, and demand the Combat, and I promise myself so far from his Courage, that he will not refuse it to a Prince, whose birth is no way inferior to his, and whose valour possibly is not so little known, but that he may hope for some honour from the victory, if Fortune favours him with it.  
Thus spoke Merodates, and the Queen, who entered into his resentments, and judged that in hazarding the life of one Soldier, she should endanger his, whom she feared more than all the Forces of Scythia, disposed herself to praise this courageous proposition, when the proud Euardes rising from his seat, and beholding Merodates with some marks of resentment. You have reason Merodates, said he, to endeavour against Alcamenes in a single Combat, the reparation of what you lost against him, in a tumult and disorder; and I esteem sufficiently your valour, to believe that you could make him partake of the peril so well as the advantage; yet I hope no less from my own Sword than from yours, and since that by the default of my Horse, rather than my own, I have been subject to the misfortune with you, I will also try the Combat against Alcamenes, and for the same reasons which you allege, I believe I shall be accepted so well as you. And I (added Phrataphern, rising up) do protest, that although you prevented me in the declaration, yet not at all in the design of defying Alcamenes, and although Merodates first proposed it, yet have I courage and resentments enough to perform it so well as he, and to attempt the same hazard for the Queen's service, and my own particular revenge. Scarce had Phrataphern spoken, when Pharnaces with as much boldness as the rest, demanded the same advantage; and the wicked Orchomenes, though he waxed pale at the proposition, and could not but tremble at the remembrance of Alcamenes his fury, not daring to do less than his companions, demanded the combat with the same earnestness. Amalthea, to whom the death of Alcamenes was of far greater importance than the life of either of these Princes, was not troubled at this contest; but Merodates, who made the first proposition, swelled with rage, to see himself traversed in his intent, not enduring that any should so much as demand the combat against Alcamenes, save himself.  
At last, the Queen having harkened to all their reasons, and praised the noble Ardour, which carried them to so generous a contest, ordered that the pretences should be decided by Lot; and so flattered Merodates with the aid of Menalippa, that he permitted his name with thè names of the four other Princes, to be written in Billets, and drawn out of a Casque.  
But as they began to write, they heard divers times the name of Alcimedon repeated at the entry of the Chamber, and a little after they acquainted the Queen that Alcimedon was at the Chamber door, and desired permission to kiss her hands.  
Amalthea at this News, arose from her seat, transported with joy, and cried with precipitation, Let him enter, and ran to meet him as far as the Chamber door: The Princes grew pale with anger, at the arrival of a man whom they loved not, whose valour umbraged theirs, and whose words they had found so true to their confusion. But had they observed Menalippa's face, they might have perceived that this return of Alcimedon touched her very heart; she was so surprised and troubled, that unable to master the agitations of her soul and body, she remained upon her seat, with the countenance of a person quite nonplussed and confounded.  
Alcamenes, entered the Chamber, with that grace an I majesty which was naturally in his gate, and all his actions; and scarce was his foot in, when the Queen cast her arms about his neck, with all the marks of a true amity.  
The Prince put one knee to the ground, and saluting the Queen with a profound submission, received her caresses: Alcimedon, said she, (having embraced and raised him up) your departure hath sensibly afflicted me, but your return is in a time, wherein you may with glory enough, repair the fault which you have only committed, to merit its pardon.  
Madam, (replied Alcamenes) the necessity which forced me to leave you, when I was unprofitable, could not retain me when I believed my hand necessary; behold me then with the same zeal and the same affections, which have linked me to your interests; and dispose (Madam) of the life and fortune of Alcimedon, who will spare neither the one nor the other in the glory of serving you. The Queen replied to those words in a most obliging manner, and taking him by the hand, presented him to the Princess Menalippa, who striving to overcome the trouble which possessed her, rose from her seat with an unassured countenance. Alcimedon threw himself at her feet, kissing her hand without the courage to speak one word; and the Princess, who was in no better condition than he, only raised him, unable to testify either by word or action, her joy to see him.  
The Prince began to interpret this reception as a continuation of her anger and complained within himself, that he had been abused by the promise of the Gods; but he had no leisure to reason, for he was scarce risen from Menalippa's feet, but he saw himself in the arms of Barzanes.  
This Prince made him a thousand affectionate carresses, and what cause soever he had to complain of his departure, and the whole ingratitude which he had apparently testified, yet his inclination being more predominate than his resentments, he beheld him as his Son, and embraced him with all the marks of tenderness and affection.  
The Princes, though unsatisfied with his arrival, and full of ill intents towards him, yet fearing to disoblige the Queen, saluted him with civility enough, and Orchomenes himself (who in this moment designed his ruin) received him with an open countenance.  
After those first ceremonies, which interrupted the business which Alcamenes found them about; the Queen, who minded her interests more than any thing else, addressing herself to Alcimedon, You come fitly, said she, to participate a glory which all these brave Princes have disputed for: they are upon drawing Lots upon an account so honourable, that I am confident you will be joyful to turn also an adventurer.  
Alcamenes doubted not, but that this occasion of glory, was some design against his Father and himself, and finding no way to avoid the Queen's proposition, he answered with much respect, That he should esteem himself too happy, to enter with those great Princes into an occasion of serving her, and commanded the same time his name to be put into the Casque, amongst those of the Princes. But Merodates beholding all his actions with envy, began to murmur, and signified to the Queen, that being all of them either Kings or King's Sons, she ought not to rank any other with them, save persons of their own quality. Alcimedon knew their intention, and turning his eyes upon them with a Noble fierceness, My Lords, said he, make no difficulty to receive me for a Companion in the glory which you seek, and believe it, before the end of this War, you shall possibly see that my birth is nothing inferior to yours.  
The Princes were not contented with this discourse, and had perhaps disputed with Alcimedon the title he pretended to; but they feared to displease the Queen, who made this proposition, and who (believing her interests more secure in the hands of Alcimedon than any others) insisted still in her resolution.  
At last, the name of Alcimedon was put into the Casque amongst the rest, and as Fortune, or some higher Power would have it, Alcimedon was drawn to fight with Alcamenes.  
All the Princes testified a sensible displeasure, though it may be there were some amongst them, to whom this election of Fortune was not disagreeable.  
But the Princess Menalippa, (what confidence soever she had in the valour of Alcimedon) waxed pale with fear, and sighed, knowing how redoubtable the Forces of Alcamenes were: But the Queen (what love soever she bore to Alcimedon) knew she could not bestow on Alcamenes a more valiant enemy, and so much rejoiced at this effect of hazard, that she could not dissemble her satisfaction. Alcimedon, said she, I know very well that the greatness of the peril, cannot divert you from a glorious enterprise, and upon the knowledge I have of your valour, I know you rejoice to understand, that your Lot is to defy the Prince Alcamenes to a single Combat, and to deprive the Scythians by your courage, of the succours of so powerful a friend. These words so troubled Alcamenes, that not knowing what answer to make, or what resolution to take in so strange an adventure, he remained a great while quite confounded, searching some invention to draw himself out of this fantastic Labyrinth, wherein fortune had shown how capricious she could be: at last, fearing lest his silence, and the astonishment which appeared on his face, might be ill interpreted, he endeavoured to compose himself; and beholding the Queen with as much assurance as he could possibly, Madam, said he, I have been perhaps too slow, in testifying the joy I conceive for the honour you have procured me; yet have I for a few moments entertained some doubts, that in case the Prince Alcamenes be as scrupulous as these Princes, he will difficulty be drawn to measure his Sword with that of a man, who passeth but for a private person: But I know the spirit and courage of Alcamenes, and I assure myself he will receive me, as though I were known to be the Son of a King, and will not hope for less honour from me, than from a King of the Nomads, or a Prince of Bithynia. I cannot make a longer stay here, being called away by an affair, for the rest of this day, which very much concerns me; I beseech you therefore Madam, to send a Herald to the Scythian Camp, to defy Alcamenes, and I will not fail to morrow, an hour after Sunrising, to render myself upon the place of Combat, by you appointed; the Judges such as you shall choose, and the conditions such as you desire.  
The Queen approved the discourse of Alcimedon, and understanding more particularly that an important necessity forced him to leave the Camp (for the rest of that day,) she took upon her the charge of defying Alcamenes, and providing things necessary for the Combat.  
The news was spread over all the Camp, that Alcimedon was come; and that it was he that must fight with Alcamenes on the morrow: and as the valour of Alcimedon was known with admiration amongst the Dacians, they all praised the justice of Fortune; but there were some, who comparing the grand actions of Alcimedon, performed against the Sarmates, with the terrible efforts of Alcamenes against them the day before, were in doubt from which of the two to expect the Victory and were unassured of their Champion in so dangerous an enterprise.  
Alcimedon having taken leave of the Queen by some words, and of the Princess by a passionate regard, went out of the Tent, and finding Cleomenes at the Gate, he took Horse and with difficulty disingaging himself, from the embraces of those whom the name of Alcimedon, and the love they bore him, drew thither from all parts, he left the Queen's Tents, and traversing the Camp (where by reason of his known Arms, he was saluted by all as he passed) he made towards a high Wood, which he saw some thirty stades from the Camp.  
He had recourse to divers intentions, whereby he might keep his word as Alcimedon, and save his honour as Alcamenes, without discovering Alcimedon for Alcamenes, against whom he had observed so much hatred in the Queen and Princess, that he could see no reason to discover himself; his spirit laboured so much, unable to imagine what to resolve on, but after a long meditation, he thought he had found a good way to draw him out of this intricacy, and upon this consideration, turning towards Cleomenes, My friend, said he, I have need of thy assistance, in one of the greatest extremities of my life, and I confide sufficiently in thee, to believe that I may escape through thy means.  
Cleomenes having upon this discourse given him new assurances of his fidelity, the Prince related punctually all that had happened, and having acquainted him that he was engaged to fight against himself, My friend, (pursued he) having well considered the difficulty of this affair, there is presented to my thoughts one only expedient. Thy make is very like mine, thy face resembles mine very much; thou must take these Arms which I wear, which all Dacia knows for those of Alcimedon, so that when thou art covered with them, no one can know thee from him: with these Arms thou shalt go and lodge this night in some place of this Wood, where thou mayst lie concealed, and tomorrow render thyself upon the place of Combat, assigned between the two Armies. I will be there also, but I will aim my Javelin so, and so carry my blows, that they shall not wound thee: after the Combat hath continued some time on this manner, I will take thee in mine arms, and, after some appearance of resistance, bear thee to the ground, where thou shalt yield the victory, and render thyself my Prisoner: I will carry thee along with me to our Camp, till thou art out of the Dacians sight, then feigning to render thee thy liberty, ere thou see the King, thou mayest retire, and quit these Arms where thou thinkest fit: so shall I have the liberty to see Menalippa as Alcimedon, and serve the King my Father as Alcamenes. This invention is a little deceitful, but my adventure is so; also and having sufficiently meditated, I can find no other means of assistance, in so strange an extremity.  
Alcamenes would not lose time, but having sought the most retired part of the Wood, he alighted; he disarmed himself of his own Arms, and covered Cleomenes with them: under which, he appeared so like Alcimedon, that Alcimedon himself might have been mistaken.  
The Prince armed himself in the Armour of Cleomenes, and when all things were in the condition they ought to be, Alcamenes having embraced Cleomenes with transports, which seemed to foretell some sinister accident, and having again instructed him how to carry himself in the Combat, took leave, and followed the path to the Scythian Camp; but would not enter till 'twas late, because the Herald of Amalthea might have performed his office before he came, fearing lest the Herald should know him, what care soever he could take to conceal himself; and it happened as he desired, understanding as soon as he came to the King's Tent, that a Herald from the Queen of Dacia, had been there to defy him, and that the King had returned him without an answer: Alcamenes was highly satisfied that it happened thus, but the King would not by any means consent to the Combat, alleging to the Prince his Son, that Alcimedon was an Unknown, against whom a Prince of Scythia could not draw his Sword without offence; and that he could not without an extreme imprudence, permit his only Son to expose himself to an uncertain event, without any decessity.  
Alcamenes having heard the King with much respect, answered, that he had rather lose his life, than cast the least stain upon his honour, which he had always dearly preserved; that he knew Alcimedon for a Prince full of valour, and for a man, whom the greatest Prince upon earth, could not refuse without dishonour. To these words he added many more, so pressing, that the King (being naturally very generous) was constrained to yield; yet much less to the force of his persuasions, than to the opinion of his valour, against which, he believed that of the unknown Alcimedon could make no long resistance.  
The Prince sent an Herald immediately to the Camp of the Dacians, to acquaint the Queen, that having received the challenge of Alcimedon, which her Herald had made in his absence, he accepted it, and would wait him at the place of Combat, an hour after Sunrising, between both Armies, with one Judge on his side, and only a thousand Horse for the Guard of the Field.  
The Queen Amalthea promised the same thing on the behalf of her Champion, and the business being thus settled, Barzanes was chosen Judge for Alcimedon; and the Prince of the Massegetes, for Alcamenes.  
The night, passed in the expectation of both parties of the event of so memorable a Combat, and the knowledge which they had of the valour of each others Champions, made them to expect this spectacle with extraordinary impatience. The morrow, so soon as the day broke, all things were prepared; though Alcamenes provided for this feigned Combat with repugnance, and a divination of some misfortune. Amalthea, who was charged with all things that concerned Alcimedon, made ready for him with no less diligence; but the Gods had otherwise disposed of the event of this day than men had appointed, for the unfortunate Cleomenes covered with the Arms of Alcimedon, as Patroclus with those of Achilles, had a like destiny: He departed at the appearance of day from a Countryhouse, where he had passed the night, and, to obey the Prince, he marched with all diligence towards the Dacian Camp; he was so fierce under these brave Arms of his Prince, that he almost conceited he was metamorphosed into him; but this innocent pride lasted not long, for scarce had he made some paces in the Wood, where the day before he had exchanged his Arms, but he saw twenty Cavaliers making towards him, who having encompassed him, before he had time scarce to think on them, cast him to the earth, and pierced him through with their Javelins in a moment.  
The cruel men stopped not there, but part of them alighted, ran upon him, and, lifting up the vizor of his Helmet, they gave him several stabs in the face and throat. When they thought he was dead, they took Horse, and made towards the Dacian Camp, not touching either his Horse or Arms.  
The perfidious Orchemanes, Prince of the Nomads, the wicked enemy of Alcimedon, partly for and in revenge of his Brother's death, and partly for his own imprisonment, had sent those Assasines to expect on the way by which the Prince must return into the Camp (as he had learned) promising them for their performance great rewards; and these cruel men had but too well acquitted themselves, had not the Gods (to whom the life of Alcamenes was dear) prevented it by the fall of the unfortunate Cleomenes. The Princess Menalippa having been troubled this night with some unlucky dreams, and being very melancholy, both for the Combat which Alcimedon was to undertake the next day with Alcamenes, and out of the displeasure she received, for not having spoken to him the day before: To cure him of the fear of her displeasure, she arose early in the morning, seeking some divertizement amongst her Train, which attended her: She caused a Chariot to be prepared to take the Air, and would only permit Belisa and the faithful Leander (who remained still in her service, and who by chance was not in the Queen's Tent the day before, and so missed the happiness of seeing his Master) to wait upon her.  
Menalippa accompanied with only these two persons, giving order to tell the Queen when she awaked, that she was gone to take the air in the Fields, and would return after the Combat between Alcamenes and Alcimedon was ended, desiring not to be present at it; after which orders given, passing through the Dacians Tents, she caused her Chariot to be guided towards that Wood, which was within sight of the Camp, and wherein the unfortunate Cleomenes lay slain; as the distance was not great, the Chariot was quickly in the Wood, and the Princess causing it to stay, alighted, and began to walk amongst the Trees leaning upon Belisa's arm; and her spirit being possessed with sad I deas, her converse was full of sadness, and was disposing herself to disburden her troubled heart, when she saw a gallant Horse saddled and bridled, feeding at liberty, and lifting up his head to approach the Chariot-Horses, he filled the Wood with sneezings; this Horse being that, whereon Alcimedon used to charge. Leander thought he knew it, and the nearer he came, the more he was confirmed in his opinion; he told the Princess what he thought, but the had already cast her eyes upon a Buckler, which she saw lie some paces from the Horse, and she no sooner beheld it, than by its famous devise, familiar to all the Dacians, she knew it for Alcimedons. She recoiled at this sight, and calling Leander, Thou showd'st me Alcimedons Horse (said she) and I can show thee his Buckler, and by what we see, we may judge he is not far off. Scarce had she pronounced these words, when she saw the miserable Cleomenes under the Arms of Alcimedon, and believed effectively that she saw Alcimedon, stretched at the foot of a Chestnut Tree. She thought he had been a sleep, and making no difficulty to approach him, intending to charm all fear, which the suspicion of her anger might have left upon his heart, and to make him satisfaction for the ill treatment she had given him, when drawing near this feigned Alcimedon, she saw the ground covered with blood round about him, and the great bubbles which issued out of the defaults of his Cuirass, from those wounds which he had received in the face.  
This spectacle forced cries both from Menalippa and Leander; and running on him together with precipitation, they took off his Casque and Cuirass, and Leander with a cloth wiped his face covered with blood and wounds, and since in an other condition he very much resembled Alcamenes, being of the same age, and his hair of the like colour, 'tis not difficult to suppose, that it being now disfigured with wounds, he might be taken for Alcimedon.  
All the courage of Menalippa made too weak resistance against this deplorable sight, and whilst Leander cast forth cries, and tore his hair, Menalippa, more sensible than he (though not less courageous) lost all sense and knowledge, and fell in a swoon upon the courageous pretended Alcimedon. Belisa, though excessively afflicted, ran to her Mistress, loosening her clothes to bring her to herself: her pains were for sometime useless, but at last the Princess opened her eyes, and returned from her faintings.  
She cast herself again upon this dying body, and by chance Leander at the same time perceived some remainder of life in him; At least, my Lord, said she, discover those Murderers, those Monsters, that have reduced you to this condition. The poor Cleomenes brought to his last sigh, endeavoured to speak, and desiring, as I believe, to discover the truth of this adventure; Alcamenes Prince of Scythia, said he, with a voice so low, that it was scarce intelligible, Alcamenes Prince of Scythia, repeated he, but could say no more, and death in this moment deprived him both of speech and life.  
At the same time two or three Peasants, who by the privilege of the Truce, had ventured to come and cut wood, and who had seen all which happened in the murder of Cleomenes, came and offered their service to the Princess, and, unasked, told what they saw, and how that this man was slain by more than twenty Horsemen, without having time to think of his defence: so that Menalippa at that moment wherein she thought Alcimedon gave up the ghost, remembered that she heard him name Alcamenes, Prince of the Scythians, and believed he had murdered him, which the wicked Peasants also confirmed, and that he was accompanied by twenty men. See how strongly Fortune sported against Alcamenes! and think it not strange, if the afflicted Princess accused him of the death of Alcimedon!  
'Twas here, where grief alone was a sufficient conduct to the Tomb, and where the adjuncts of rage and fury, rather diverted and hindered, than advanced the violence of its effects, and helped to recall those forces which had left her, to run to that vengeance which she breathed, rather than to Death, which was ready to embrace her: She arose from the ground quite furious, and casting upon this exspiring body a funest and mortal glance, How Alcimedon (said she) dost thou die before my eyes, by the treason and cruelty of Alcamenes? if I love thee not sufficiently to survive thy loss, I should be weak and cowardly to run to death, rather than to thy revenge. This Barbarian, whose courage hath been so much admired, and with so much injustice, fearing the Combat he was to maintain against thee this day, hath murdered thee basely and inhumanely in the obscurity of the Wood; and shall Menalippa, to whom, by the just anger of Heaven his treason is discovered, deplore like a Woman, and die weakly like one of the people, instead of executing that vengeance for which the gods have reserved her? Ah! no Alcimedon, expect not this imbecility from a Courage which was never sufficiently known to thee. I have it possibly comparable to that of men, and this arm, which hath given death to Bears and Boars, shall Arm itself to destroy that Monster, who hath snatched from me my Alcimedon. She stopped here, rolling in her mind a thousand furious thoughts, whilst Leander and Belisa with a River of tears, solemnised the Funeral of Alcimedon, and the despair of Menalippa, who after a long contest, being resolved, and wipeing off those tears which trickled from her fair eyes, wherein rage and grief had an equal stock, 'Tis no time to weep Menalippa, said she, 'tis on indifferent griefs we should bestow our tears; ours requires blood, 'tis with blood they must be washed away, but with Menalippa 's it demands also that of Alcamenes. Finishing these words she turned towards Leander, and beholding him with eyes swollen, from whom, in spite of all her resistance, a river of tears perpetually flowed, Leander, (said she) Alcimedon is dead for me, and I ought to be reproached with his death, since it was my Enemy, and my interests that took him out of the world; I have loved Alcimedon (Leander) and I scruple no longer to let you know it; I have loved him living, and I love him still, dead as he is, more than I love my own life. Oh! would to the gods, that by the less of this unfortunate life, I could save that of my faithful, my beloved Alcimedon, and Oh! would that he breathed in the stead of that unfortunate wretch, who now deplores in vain his decease: but since it is not permitted me to recall his breath by the exchange of mine, I will revenge his death, for the Gods have not acquainted me with it, and discovered its author by ways so extraordinary, but to let me understand, that to me only is reserved this vengeance; But in telling you my design, O Leander! O Belisa! I also declare, that if you endeavour to hinder it, you shall see me plunge this steel in my breast, and so you'll make me doubly miserable, in taking away the consolation which I hope for, before my death: speak not one word therefore, to divert me from my resolution, and help to Arm me with those unfortunate Arms, beneath which my poor Alcimedon hath given up the ghost. I have strength enough to carry them, and to rule his Sword, and it was doubtless for this action (to which the Gods reserved me) that I used myself to the chase of wild Beasts, and exercises more suitable to men, than persons of our sex, it was not without mystery that I received from heaven a composition and force of body nothing ordinary, and I will make use of, in this occasion, of that which possibly is not ordinarily placed in a woman: when I am Armed, and have left you, expect here my return in two or three hours, and if I comenot in that time, put this precious body in the Chariot, and conduct it into our Tents, there to receive the Funeral rites. See what I have resolved, and fail not in the obedience which I desire, if you intent not to hurry me to the utmost extremities of despair.  
The desperate Princess speaking thus, Belisa and Leander observed something so terrible in her eyes, and face, that they lost all the courage and resolution they had taken to contradict her, and certainly in those sad moments, Love and the Graces had forsaken the beauties of Menalippa, to give place to those furies which tormented her; and she appeared to those afflicted persons in a posture so terrible, that fear overcame them, and they durst not oppose that resolution which they condemned.  
Leander at her reiterated command, despoiled the cold bloody body of its Arms, and Casque; and Belisa having taken from the Princess her long encombring habits, she covered her head with the Casque (though bloody in some places) and with Leander's help, she buckled about her the Arms, which she kissed and washed with tears as she put them on.  
Being Armed she appeared like some Bellona, or something more dreadful, and by the fury which doubled her forces, she seemed no more troubled with the Arms, than if she had used them all her life. I have told you that her stature was extraordinary, and 'tis certain that at this time, the difference was so small, that she might easily have been taken for Alcimedon. When the Princess saw herself in this posture as she desired, and that Leander had brought the Prince's Horse and Buckler, she bowed towards the beloved body, and took her last adieu, with a tenderness able to cleave with pity the most savage hearts; and conjuring Leander and Belisa to remember her commands, and to declare nothing that they knew, till the time she had prescribed, she took Horse, and being no Novice in that exercise, she spurred him forward to the address of the strongest men, and ran with so much impetuosity, that they presently lost sight of her.  
The field of Battle was already covered with the Soldiers of both parties, who with great diligence had fastened the Barriers, and erected a Scaffold for the Judges; there were two of them, one for the King of Scythia, and the other for the Queen of Dacia, and the Princes of her side, and the Barriers were environed with a thousand Horse of either Army.  
The Judges had already taken their seats, with much civility: and a little after the King Orontes on the one part, although he had some wounds which would have kept in bed any person of a less robust complexion; and the Queen Amalthea on the other, with the Princes of her Train, placed themselves upon the Scaffold, at the sound of a hundred Trumpets that attended them, and which made the fields of Nicaea echo; they expected only the two Combatants, who seemed a little slow; and 'tis certain, that Alcamenes marching not to this Combat, with that ardour and fierceness which used to accompany him in others, it being only a fiction and dissembled action, was not overhasty to take the Field; yet he appeared a little after the appointed time, but it was not with his accustomed boldness and gallantry, nor with that menacing Mine, which darted fear into the most assured. His Arms were enriched with Gold, and some stones, his Buckler of the same, without any device; his Casque was covered with a shade of Plumes, and he always kept the vizor of his Helmet down, because of Barzanes, who from the Scaffold might easily have known him: though he affected nothing terrible in his gate, yet could the God of Battles have pleaded small advantage over him, and Barzanes concluded with the Prince of the Massegetes, that nothing could match him, unless the brave person, who was to fight him this day, had the good fortune. Alcamenes walked a long time in the Field ere his Enemy appeared, and all the world began to condemn the sloth of Alcimedon; and those, to whom he was not well known, made sinister censures on his courage. Amalthea, who was out of humour, and in some trouble for the Princess, (the cause of whose walk the could not divine) and pricked with delight at Alcimedons' delay, and the more, in that the Princes his Enemies endeavoured to slain his courage, and openly blamed his sloth: the perfidious Orchomenes, who with the life, would also have taken away the Honour of his Enemy, said, he knew him better than the rest, and had always made a judgement of him, different from that of others, and that he believed he would not come at all.  
Barzanes who dearly loved Alcimedon, supported impatiently their murmurs, and still assured the Prince of the Massegetes, that he would not fail to appear, usless some important adventure hindered; Alcamenes himself was astonished at the delay of Cleomenes, and for some moments, thought that he wanted courage for this enterprise; at last he heard the most remote say that Alcimedon was come, that Alcimedon was hard by, and a little after they saw him approach, or rather the furious Menalippa in his Arms, in a posture so terrible, that it had been easy to have perceived, with a little observation, that she was agitated with some other passion than the desire of glory; the Dacians gave a great shout at his arrival and Orchomenes believing himself betrayed by his Servants, beheld him to whom he had given the commission, with a menacing eye, and by an inflamed regard, reproached his fidelity.  
So soon as Menalippa was in the Field, not musing herself with formalities, she road to the end of the Barriers, and fastening herself in the Saddle, she started with a mighty impetuosity, (imploring assistance from the Gods, she might pass her Javelin through the throat of her Enemy.) Alcamenes started at the same time, but having no design to hurt Cleomenes, he had chosen the weakest Javelin he could find, and instead of addressing it to the Vizor, or any other dangerous place, he threw it against the middle of the Buckler, where it broke without any further effect; Menalippa aimed hers directly at Alcamenes' Vizor, but whether it were by the fury of her course, or passion, or the little experience she had in this exercise which made her fail in the attempt; her blow sliding by his Casque, it past without doing any harm; then drawing her Sword, she made to her Enemy, who expected her in the same posture.  
She aimed many blows at him which he put by with his Buckler, and wherein he perceived, if not more force, at least more fury, than he could have expected from Cleomenes: struck only at those places where he found her covered with her Buckler, being very careful not to hurt a man, who only sought to serve him, and as he had not been accustomed to sport and feign in such occasions, he was quite ashamed of the person he represented, being obliged in this Combat to dissemble that valour, which on all occasions he so prodigally testified.  
At last, the impatient Menalippa, breathing nothing but fire, made a furious blow, which he avoiding, it fell upon her own Horse, and the Blade being exceeding good, it gave him such a wound, that the enraged Beast ran with all his force to the end of the Field, yet not so swiftly, but the Princess had leisure to quit her Stirrups and alight. Alcamenes (joyful to see his enemy on foot, ready to terminate the Combat after the manner he had designed with Cleomenes) alighted, and approached Menalippa, with his drawn Sword. The desperate Princess cast herself upon him, with so much fury, that the Prince could not prevent (her Sword meeting with the default of his Arms) a light wound.  
Alcamenes was astonished at this fury of Cleomenes, and seeing that all the spectators were too far to understand what they said, Friend, said he, thou sparest me not, and if thou fightest long, thou wilt not represent amiss the person of Alcimedon. These words confirmed the Princess in the belief she had against Alcamenes, and not enduring a discourse wherein he seemed to play with the destiny of poor Alcimedon, Ah Traitor, said she, hast thou imagined that the obscurity of the Wood could hide thy Treason? or dost thou think to save thyself by thy deceit? Give me death immediately, or expect to lose thy life by the hand of thy most mortal Enemy.  
Their Casques so disguised each others voice, that they could not discern it; yet Alcamenes knew that it was not Cleomenes, found himself in a great confusion, and his own confusion turning into a fury, which Menalippa was not likely to resist, What soever thou art, said he, with a menacing tone, thou shalt lose thy life by the hand of Alcamenes, and thou hast done ill to draw me out of an order which might have preserved thee. He accompanied these words with many blows, which put Menalippa into disorder, and made her Arms blush with some drops of blood.  
The Judges and Spectators observed this redoubled fury, and easily perceived a difference between the beginning and the end of the Combat.  
The Princess could no longer sustain the shower of blows which fell upon her, which drew blood in many places, and at last the irritated Alcamenes, pressing her between his arms: though she yielded in strength to few men, and that she employed at this time all that nature hath given her, he threw her to the Earth, and tearing off her Casque with violence, You must die, said he, or yield me the victory. He had scarce finished these few words, but casting his eyes upon his Enemy's face, he saw the tresses of long hair which discovered her sex, and perceived at last, in spite of all contrary appearances the face of Menalippa.  
O Gods! how great was the Prince Alcamenes', astonishment at this sight, and with what motions was he seized at so unexpected a spectacle. Truly (great Princesses) it is difficult to express that, which he that resented it, is certainly unable to relate.  
Astonishment gave place to grief, and beside the sorrow he received for the wounds he gave her, and in that he had presented his threatening Sword to her fair face, he could not see Menalippa metamorphosed into a Soldier for his destruction, without becoming infinitely sensible of the hatred which carried her to so great an extremity, imagining that she knew him as Alcimedon, and as Alcamenes, and that Cleomenes had discovered or betrayed him.  
Menalippa gave him time to make this reflection, through the astonishment which her fall had caused, but when she was come to herself, seeing that she was between the arms of her Enemy (who had not lifted up the vizor of his Casque, because for divers reasons he would not show his face to the Judges) she endeavoured to disentangle herself, and to seize the Sword which he held in his hand; but Alcamenes holding her arm, and pressing hers between his, more like a lover than an Enemy, Ah Menalippa! said he, what hatred is this, that hath carried you to such violent extremities against Alcamenes? Alcimedon hath incurred your displeasure, but Alcimedon hath been sufficiently punished, and I have made him suffer those miseries, which possibly yourself would have been so pitiful not to have ordained him. Instead of culpable Alcimedon receive Alcamenes, whom I present unto you, in whom you will find all the love, and all the fidelity, which were sometimes agreeable to you in the person of Alcimedon; and you will find here those advantages, which you could not have met with in the person of a miserable Unknown.  
Thus spoke Alcamenes, and it seemed that his evil Genius had dictated all the words he uttered, so proper they were to confirm the Princess of the manner of Alcimedon's death, and Alcamenes' Treason, which working violent effects upon her spirit, she disintangled herself from the passionate embraces of her conqueror: Traitor, said she, since▪ thou hast punished Alcimedon, punish also the unfortunate Menalippa, and give her death by thy cruel hand, or prepare thyself to receive thine from hers. Alcamenes unable to hold her, recoiled some paces, and prepared to present his breast, to satisfy her cruelty, when he saw the Judges of the Field with him, who, during their contest, had descended the Scaffold, and knowing Menalippa, they ran to separate them, and interposing between them, hindered her cruel intent; but in a few moments the Judges were not alone, for Amalthea, with the Princes from her Scaffold, having known the face of Menalippa, and seeing it was her, who fight had received divers wounds, unable to submit to the Empire of reason, in the violence of her parental compassion, which mastered it, she cried Treason, and that it was not against Alcimedon, but Menalippa, that Alcamenes had fought; that the Princess was wounded possibly to death; and that the cruel man, who had put her into that condition, aught to lose his life as a punishment of his crime.  
As she uttered these words, they cried Arms, (which the Queen transported with grief, hindered not:) The thousand Dacian Cavaliers, who guarded the Field, overthrew the Barriers, to be revenged on Alcamenes; but the Scythians, who saw them, did as much on their side to succour their Prince; and if the most zealous of the Dacians took up their Princess to carry her into the Queen's arms, the most affectionate amongst the Scythians, covered their Prince with their Bucklers and Bodies, giving him time to take Horse, and put himself into a fight condition.  
The two Judges of the Field having protested their innocency, as to the breach of Treaty, took leave of each other, to attend their charges, and in a short time this Field was the place of a general Battle, than a particular Combat.  
The King of Scythia beholding with displeasure the rupture of the Truce, ran to his Troops, and commanded all the Princes and Chiefs to their charges, to draw the Army out, into the best order which the necessity of affairs would permit.  
Merodates, Phrataphernes, Euardes, and his companions, had performed the same on their parts; and whilst those who mingled themselves at the Combat, in a disorderly and bloody confusion, strove for the Victory, by little and little increasing, they saw themselves fortified by two great Armies. As they fought in disorder, so I cannot very orderly follow my discourse; and as I oblige myself rather to the particular actions of Alcamenes, than to theirs that fought for him; I will only say, that the Prince finding himself that day animated with the most violent grief and anger he had ever resented in his life, he made those who were so unhappy as to present themselves before him, such easy sacrifices, that they rather took him for a Fury, than any thing mortal.  
This Battle had the form of a Massacre without choice or distinction, party against party, the vanquished with the vanquisher, and the dying with their Murderers were enveloped in the same ruin. Alcamenes, who could not fear death, but rather through his rage endeavoured to render his depart more funest to his Enemies, left every where bloody marks of his fury. The first of the Enemy-Princes who presented himself, was the disloyal Orchomenes, who fierce with the death of the pretended Alcimedon, marched to the encounter with more boldness than before, and who (conducted by his evil Genius, and the Daemon revenger of perfidies) durst with a Troop of his men attend the furious Prince: but scarce had he seen the fall of some of them, by that redoubted hand, but repenting his rashness, he trembled, waxed pale under his Arms, and designed a retreat amongst his Soldiers, when the irritated Prince (maugre their resistance who would have opposed) thrust his Sword through his body chase thence his disloyal soul, not suffering it to rejoice in the crime of that day.  
After the death of Orchomenes, who was seconded valiantly by all his subjects, and all cut in pieces by that mighty hand; which passed from them amongst the Bithinians, and seeing the proud Euardes at their head, he cast himself like a Lion upon him, and at two blows with his Sword, deprived him of life.  
The Bithinians lost courage at the death of their Prince, and falling soul on those that followed, had caused by their disorder the loss of the whole day, if Barzanes on the one side, and Merodates on the other, had not rallied the fugitives, and fortified those trembling Troops with the best assurance they could; yet not so happily, but that by the valour of Alcimedon, and the King his Father, and divers brave Princes, who fought under their Ensigns, a geart part of the Dacian Army were Routed.  
Day now, as the time before, was Alcamenes greatest Enemy; his Victory had been entire, if the darkness which covered the face of the Earth, had not hindered: The Dacians lost more than twenty five thousand men, but the Scythians not above ten thousand.  
Barzanes and Merodates caused a retreat to be sounded, and Orontes (whom the effusion of so much blood had filled with compassion) did the like, and permitted the Dacians to retire to their Camp.  
But doubtless, great Princesses, this long relation hath been troublesome to you, and, if you please, I will defer the rest to another day.  
This Princesses, who had given great attention to the discourse of Megacles, would not permit him to leave off, and having assured him, that they should hear the continuation without incommodity, he causing Lights to be set up in the Chamber, by reason the day began to fail, thus continued his Discourse.  
The end of the third BOOK.   

THE HISTORY OF ALCAMENES and MENALIPPA.  
BOOK. FOUR  
THE success of this day in all likelihood, aught to have given as much satisfaction to the King of Scythia, as displeasure and confusion to his Enemies; and it is certain, that by this notable loss, and the little hopes there was left of their remaining forces, the Dacians could not expect a favourable event to this War; this filled him with joy, and fortified his hopes, but his content could not but be imperfect, whilst he observed the grief, or rather the despair of Alcamenes.  
This disconsolate Prince, instead of rejoicing at his Victory, and the grand actions he had done that day, being retired from the place of Battle, with all the marks of rage and fury in his eyes and face, entered his Chamber, which he fastened upon him, and threw himself on a Bed, not permitting any to see him, or search some light wounds he had received. The King who was advertized thereof, went to his Chamber, and by the privilege of his authority saw him, and caused him to permit the dressing of his wounds, but could not diminish his sadness, nor cause him to enter into any conversation.  
He conceived, this violent displeasure proceeded from the dishonour he might fancy the fight with a woman had brought to his Arms; and after he had done his endeavour to comfort him upon this accident, supposing time would do the rest, he bid him Good night, and retired to his Chamber. It was some comfort to the Prince to find himself alone, and this solitude served to represent the cause of his griefs more lively than before. The sight of Menalippa an Amazon, and of Menalippa armed against his life, had rather increased than diminished his love; and the hatred of that irritated Princess, which in likelihood ought to have lessened his affection, seemed to have given new forces to torment him. She appeared (under those Arms, and in that condition, wherein he had seen her subject to his victorious Sword) more charming than ordinary; but after he had some time dwelled upon this Idea, he remembered that he had fought against this so beautiful and beloved Warrior, that he had drawn blood from her fair body, and offered his menacing Blade to her adored face; this thrust him into an unsupportable grief, and from grief he passed to a mortal despair.  
He considered how great a hatred it must be, that could drive her to such extremities, he called to remembrance how fruitless all his submissions were, after he had put himself into a posture of approaching her, and in what horrible fury he had left her, when he was constrained to separate from her.  
From thence, running over all the circumstances of his misfortune, seeking the cause with incredible torment, yet could not he imagine what it might be, unless that either Cleomenes had betrayed him, (which he could not imagine;) or that he had been betrayed in the place where he lay that night, and carried to the Dacian Camp, and there constrained to declare that Alcimedon was Alcamenes, and that the innocent delusion was discovered, which he had made use of as an evasion, in that Caprice whereinto Fortune had throwa him; he was confirmed in this belief by the words which Menalippa spoke in the Combat, and by the reproach she cast upon him for his Treasons, committed in the obscurity of the Wood; and having settled his persuasions here, Ah me! said he, is Alcimedon Alcamenes! Son to the enemy of Amalthea? but is it true also that Alcamenes is Alcimedon, who hath rendered so important services to the Crown of Dacia, who hath loved Menalippa a thousand times more than his life, and who hath had the happiness to be loved by her. I ought to have believed (amiable and cruel Princess) that your affection to Alcimedon, would not erace your hatred to Alcamenes, and that you were generous enough to stifle (in the hatred of your House) a particular affection; if in knowing me for Alcamenes, you knew me for the Son of your Enemy, yet you have learned thereby, that Alcimedon was no Impostor, when he professed himself to be a great Prince, and when he promised to give you the Crown of Scythia.  
But, blind that I am, (said he, a little after) ought I not to remember an evil that hath cost me so many tears? and have I not proved, that without the assistance of Alcamenes, Alcimedon was sufficiently odious to Menalippa; and that cruel banishment, wherein I have lingered so many unfortunate days, hath it not sufficiently declared the hatred of my Princess? and could I hope that the knowledge of Alcamenes, to a heart already piqueed against Alcimedon, would produce any other effects, than those, unfortunate one I, now suffer.  
Ah Gods! added he, if it might be permitted me to murmur against you, I would reproach you with the falsity of your promise: for if it be true that I have succoured my Father with success, it is as true that this sight of Menalippa which you ordained me, is the greatest misfortune that can happen to me in my life, since by this visit I have found her more cruel, and inexorable, than I could have imagined; nor have I seen her— O Gods! but to present my Sword unto her beautiful breast, and to draw blood from her fair Body.  
Speaking thus, he felt his Grief boil into rage, and casting his eyes by chance upon the Sword which he had used in the Battle, and upon which he might still have observed some drops of Menalippa's blood, had not the mixture of so much which he had spilt that day, confounded it: Perfidious instrument of my crime, (cried he,) the first service thou hast rendered me, hath been sufficiently fatal to me: if I had the Sword of Alcimedon, which I left with Cleomenes, and which is now in Menalippa 's power, it would possibly, better than I, have known Alcimedon 's divinity, and would have denied obedience to the sacrilegious hand which drew it against her; but this first service shall be the last I will receive from thee, for I shall be ashamed to wear the criminal steel, that hath drawn blood from Menalippa. Saying thus, he broke it into several pieces, not without a revery of some moments, whether it were not better to plunge it into his breast.  
Thus did he pass the Night, tormenting himself; and, the day appearing ere he had either sought or found a moment of rest, one of his Squires, who entered his Chamber, related that the Queen Amalthea, under pretence of carrying off her dead, demanded of the King, Eight Days Truce.  
Alcamenes, who well knew into what condition the Enemy was reduced, and, that if the King would take his advantage, he might ruin them in a day, had reason to fear that he would refuse the Queen's demand, and finding himself too culpable towards Menalippa, he sent, and instantly desired the King to grant Amalthea's desire; The King Orontes, who naturally was an excellent Prince, and who beheld with regret this effusion of blood, considering also the prayer of his Son, he thereupon granted Amalthea the Eight Days Truce: and having given orders to fetch off, and bury the Dead, and encamped his Army further off, by reason of the infection of the Air, he went into his Son's Chamber, with a spirit full of tenderness, and quite bend upon a resolution which he now discovered.  
He found Alcamenes in the condition I represented him, and though he endeavoured to recall himself in the King's presence, yet was it difficult to hinder the whole appearance of his grief from him: The King having sometime entertained him with the affairs of the War, and seeing he could not draw a word from him which was not diffected into sighs and sobs, he resolved to oblige him to disover his heart; to advance which design, he took one of his hands, and pressing it between his own with much affection, My Son (said he) I cannot taste with satisfaction the advantages your valour hath given us, nor rejoice to see in a few days my Kingdom entirely delivered from its Enemies, so long as you appear in this condition, wherein, to my extreme sorrow, I behold you; I always hoped better things from your courage, what reason soever you had to afflict yourself, and I must believe it exceeding great, since it can conquer a heart like that of Alcamenes: I thought yesterday, upon the first observation of your sadness, that it proceeded from drawing your Sword against a Woman, and a fair Princess, but seeing you this day in the extremities of the most violent grief, I believe it could not render itself so powerful over your spirit, were it not fortified by some other passion; and it is not impossible, but that in the moment, wherein the fair face of Menalippa appeared to you in the Combat, it might produce love enough in your Soul, to resent the violence of your Sword against her, and for having drawn some drops of her blood. Blush not Alcamenes, (continued the King, seeing him change colour) if this be the true cause of the sadness, wherein you appear to the eyes of a Father who dearly loves you; you shall receive no hindrance from him, to the completing your felicity; and though the action of Menalippa hath something in it very contrary to the sweetness and moderation of her sex, yet hath she many virtues, as I have heard by the common report, which makes me look-over this action. And born she is of a Blood, and in a Fortune, which might make you hope from me an approbation of your love; and indeed the Heir of Dacia is a person considerable enough, to surprise the affections of the greatest Prince; and the repose of Alcamenes is dear enough to me, to make me overcome those resentments I might have against my Enemies. If your sadness may be dispelled by this proposition; I will offer peace to Amalthea; in a time when she can no longer make War against us, and with the Peace, propose to her the marriage of Alcamenes with Menalippa. She will not perhaps be so obstinate in her hatred towards me, as to shut her eyes against so great advantages; and she will be ill advised, to refuse a Peace, when it lies in our power to ruin her; or reject for her Daughter, the greatest and most advantageous Match she could wish. Whilst Alcamenes heard the King speak thus, though he received by this discourse but an imperfect joy, yet could he not dissemble it, and kissing the King's hand with a profound reverence, and some sighs, which he could not retain, My Lord, (said he) beside the obligations which are common to me with all children, I have particular ones to your bonnty, which I cannot dissemble without ingratitude; I will not deny to your Majesty, (since you have discovered it against my will) that the face of Menalippa inspired me with love, when my Sword was upon the point to have given her death; I will say no more, nor give bounds to a bounty too great for Alcamenes. But if your Majesty hath any inclination to this alliance, I will receive it with all the respect I ought; I doubt only, that all the advantages which Amalthea can find, will not bow the spirit of Menalippa; and I beseech your Majesty, not to use the authority of the Queen to force her inclination.  
Alcamenes said no more: and the King, who knew his intent, and who, as I told you, was weary of the War, though it had continued but a little while, and preferring the repose of his people before a bloody Victory, having commanded the Prince to comfort himself, and to hope all things from his care; left the Chamber, and past into his own: where sending for Amphimachus, Prince of the Tauroscythes, he largely instructed him with his intention, and giving him a Letter to Queen Amalthea, caused him to depart towards the Enemies Camp.  
Here it was that Grief and Desolation put on their true shape, and if the whole Camp, groaning for the loss of so many thousands, that had been slain that day, for the death of the Prince of Bithynia, and the King of the Nomads, and for that of a great number of principal Officers, who had left their Bodies in the Field, as Trophies of Scythian Valour; The Queen, to the great cause she had to regret this loss, joined the grief she resented at Menalippa's despair.  
She caused her to be carried off the Field, to be disarmed, and her wounds dressed; and though they were but light, yet the unconsolable grief of the Princess, would have put the least bodily distemper into a capacity of endangering of life.  
In vain had the Queen embraced her, and bedewed her face with tears; in vain had she conjured her by the most pressing words affection could put into her mouth, to declare the cause of her despair, and funest resolution.  
The desperate Princess answered not but by sobs and tears, which flowed incessantly from her fair eyes, or if the afflicted Mother could sometimes force a few words from her, they so savoured of rage and fury, that they easily discovered her Soul to be possessed with a mortal sadness.  
But though Menalippa could not conceal her grief, yet she would her love; choosing rather to suffer the perpetual demands of the Queen, than confess she had loved Alcimedon, and that it was for him she fought with Alcamenes, and was fallen into despair. Notwithstanding the pre-occupation of her Soul, she caused Belisa to order the Body of Alcimedon, secretly to be buried (which was very easy amongst so many thousands that kept him company) and this Maid who with Leander had carried it to the Camp, according to her orders, would nevertheless divulge nothing of this adventure, having not yet received the Princess' commands: so she put the Body of Cleomenes in an unfrequented place, where it could not be known by reason of the wounds in his face, and being stripped of Alcimedon's Arms, which might have made him observed.  
Menalippa, in her design of concealing her love from the world, received some satisfaction from this discretion of Belisa, charging her to recommend the secret to Leander, and all those who knew aught of this adventure.  
The Queen pressed her uncessantly to reveal the truth, partly to understand the cause of her despair, and also to know how she came by Alcimedon's Armour, and what was become of that valiant man, and how he permitted her to fight in his place; yet he could never draw the least word out of her mouth, that might give any satisfaction in what she desired, and all that she could obtain, was a promise to declare the truth within six days, on condition that till than she would give her the liberty of her tears, without troubling her for a clearer knowledge.  
The Queen, who even adored her, and placed in her only, all her affections and hopes, was constaained to be satisfied with this promise; and though she disapproved and condemned the furious resolution and Combat of her Daughter, which she could not attribute but to a violent despair, yet durst she not blame her for this action, as she would doubtless have done, had she been in a condition capable of reproof.  
Yet was not Menalippa's heart so replenished with her own misfortunes, but there was room left to resent the Queen's; and seeing her drowned in tears at her Pillow, Madam, (said she) I render myself unworthy, by my folly, of that bounty you testify towards me; In the Name of the Gods, alloy the troubles of your spirit, and hope with me from the bounty of Heaven, that mine will repose itself, when yours becomes more serene. Ah Menalippa! replied the Queen with a sigh, You have little reason to imagine my spirit can be at rest, whilst yours remains in the condition it now appears; and you have little valued my repose, when you exposed a Daughter, more dear to me than my own life, to the conquering Sword of the valiantest man upon Earth. I am not (replied sadly Menalippa) the first person of my sex that hath drawn a Sword against men, and you yourself have inspired me with Warlike inclinations, by the education you gave me; however this action may partly be excused to you, by the hatred which, with my milk, you have made me suck against the Fâmily of Orontes, and which I believed might reasonably transport me to this extremity, against the Son of my Father's Murderer, against a man, who robs us of the hopes of revenge, and of the possession of Scythia, which the Gods hath promised us, and against a man, to whom for other reasons also, I have an irreconcilable aversion. It must be, Menalippa, (replied the Queen, and shaking her head) that these desperate resolutions against Alcamenes, have some deeper causes, than those that are common to us both; and, were he not born of your Father's Murderer, he hath done nothing in this War, nor in the Combat against you, but what might rather cause esteem than aversion. Pardon me Madam, (replied Menalippa brisquely) in that my resentments are not conformable to yours, and, if I have not generosity to love enough virtue in mine Enemies. Amalthea knew by the manner of pronouncing these words, that she could not contradict her without augmenting her affliction, and a little after going out of the Chamber, she permitted her to pass the night (through her instant entreaties) without any other company save that of Belisa.  
During the remainder of this night (which she gave wholly to sighs and tears, for unhappy Alcimedon) she made often reflections on the actions and words of Alcamenes in the Combat; and observing (amongst those cruel ones, whereby he owned the death of Alcimedon) that he was in love with her, and offered himself to her, with all the marks of a passionate man, she became astonished at the quick birth of his love, and flattered herself possibly (notwithstanding her mortal grief) with the glory of such a conquest; and of the quick and marvellous effects of her beauty. After a long revery, If it be true (said she) that Alcamenes loves me, I praise the gods for the occasions they have given me, of revenging his cruelty by that I will exercise against him; and if the Barbarian be so happy to escape the death which I prepare for him, I will make him feel from this heart, pre-occupied by a passion so just, all that a just resentment can inspire me with of most cruel, and most conformable to the hatred I bear him.  
In these furious thoughts she passed the night, and part of the next day, receiving some nourishment, and permitting them to dress her wounds, not out of love to life, but of design to employ it wholly in revenging Alcimedon.  
Part of the day was past, when they came to advertise the Queen, that the Prince of the Tauroscythes desired admittance from the King of Scythia. What hatred soever she bore his Master, yet knew she how to treat Ambassadors, especially in a time wherein Fortune had been adverse to her, and where she was forced to acknowledge, that the surety of her Troops, and safety of her person, depended wholly upon his bounty.  
She received the Prince in the presence of Merodates, Phrataphern, Barzanes, and other principal Officers of the Army. Amphimacus presented her with a Letter from Orontes, by which he hoped to incline her more than by the mouth of his Ambassador: Amalthea opened it in the presence of the Princes, and read aloud these words.  
ORONTES King of SCYTHIA, to the Queen of DACIA.  
IT is not in my power (great Queen) to blot out of your memory, the loss you have received by our Arms; But I can easily represent to you, that the King Decebalus died in the Field with his Sword in his hand, without treachery, cruelty, or any circumstance, that might inspire you with a greater hatred towards me, than other common Enemies. You have already poured forth much blood in his revenge, and you ought to be satisfied with the death of a hundred thousand men, whom you have sacrificed to his Ghost. Few Women have so solemnly and gloriously acquitted them of their conjugal affection; But it is enough (Great Queen) and I demand peace in a time, when you may well judge I can nothing apprehend the event of the War: There is blood enough spilt, and I have pity both upon your Subjects and mine own: And (if you refuse it not) I desire your amity and Alliance; the gods, as I am informed, have promised the Crown of SCYTHIA to the Princess MENALIPPA your Daughter, and I offer it, in presenting ALCAMENES for her Husband; I believe 'tis thus the gods would be understood; and all other ways to advance her upon the Throne of our Ancestors, will be found less easy. MENALIPPA hath conquered SCYTHIA in a moment, since in a moment she hath conquered the heart of ALCAMENES, and this Prince, whose life she assaulted with so much animosity, lays the same life, with the Crown I shall leave him, at her feet. The Prince of the TAUROSCYTHES (whom I have empowered) will negotiate according to your Commands, so soon as you let him understand them; and will testify unto you, how much I desire the union of our Crowns, Families, and Affections.  
Whilst Amalthea readd this Letter, the divers agitations of her Soul were legible upon her face, and if on one side the resentment of the King her Husband's death possessed still her spirit, filling it with aversion to the King of Scythia, on the other part the advantage she found in his offer, and the pitiful condition she was in through the defeat of her Amry, of which in all likelihood she could expect nothing but the entire ruin, disarmed by degrees that revenge, which she had preserved so many years, forcing her to give Reason audience, though hitherto she had preferred Passion and Animosity; and beside, comparing the offer of Orontes with the Oracles, which had promised the Crown of Scythia to the Princess her Daughter, her eyes were opened to these appearances, and judged that it was by this Marriage, and not by Force, the Gods intended she should be Queen of Scythia.  
Whilst she rolled these thoughts in her mind, without expressing them to the Company, Merodates, being amorous of Menalippa, and impatient of a proposition which destroyed his hopes, cried with precipitation, that the offer of Orontes ought not to be embraced, and that the Gods, Blood, and Nature, would be visibly offended, in case Menalippa should marry with the Son of her Father's Murderer; Phrataphern (full of amorous pretences) confirmed his exclamation, and added what ever he thought capable to authorise it: but Barzanes, (more prudent than they) though he exceedingly resented the death of the King his Brother, found no difficulty to tell the Queen (after they had conducted the Ambassador of Scythia into another Chamber) that she ought to receive with open arms the King's proposition; and that this fortune, which at this time was very great for Menalippa, could not with prudence be rejected, at a time, wherein through the defeat of their Army, they lay exposed to the mercy of the Enemy; where neither the valour of Merodates nor Phrataphern, could hinder them from being cut in pieces, if the Scythians had any such intent. The reasons of Barzanes were confirmed by all the Officers of the Army, and by Pharnaces, who having a few moments before lost all hope of reseeing their dear Country, could not hear the proposition of so glorious a peace and so little expected by all appearances, without protesting aloud to the Queen, that (unless she intended their entire ruin) she would not reject it.  
Amalthea harkened to this discourse, as unwilling to be accused of the destruction of those Soldiers which remained, by her obstinacy, nor could she think without some joy, upon the fortune which presented its self to Menalippa, in a conjuncture of time, when she expected to be exposed, with her, to a multitude of disgraces; so that, maugre the cry; of Merodates, and Phrataphernes, (who would never consent, but in a rage departed the Chamber) she sent for the Prince of the Tauroscythes, and told him that she willingly embraced the Peace which he offered, nor had she any repugnance to the King's Alliance: but it was just that she communicated it to her Daughter, who had herein the principal interest, and whose consent she would demand.  
Amphimacus replied to this discourse of the Queen with much civility and respect, who having left him with the King of the Sarmates, and the principal Officers of the Army, she with Barzanes went into Menalippa's Chamber, to whom she read the King of Scythia's Letter, and informed her, that all the Dacians settled their desires on this Peace and Alliance, and herself also, who had a desire to terminate this War by an honourable conclusion.  
Amalthea hoped that notwithstanding the hatred Menalippa had expressed against Alcamenes, she would yet submit her resentments to those of her Mother, and open her eyes to Orontes' advantageous proposition; but scarce had she discovered her thoughts, when the irritated Princess (casting a transported regard at the Queen); How Madam, said she, do you design me for the Spouse of Orontes' Son, who killed Decebalus, and who would yesterday have taken away my life in your presence, with the same Sword wherewith he hath slain three Kings, fight in your Quarrel? and him, against whom you have inspired me with so much hatred from mine infancy?  
Daughter (replied the Queen,) It is not just that enmities should be eternal, and prudence commands us to persevere in, or change, our resolutions and inclinations, according as they are either advantageous or hurtful: Alcamenes is very innocent of the King your Father's death, and in the death of the Kings, his Enemies, he hath done but his duty; if he wounded you in the Combat not knowing you, he treated you with respects so soon as he knew you; and yielded to you with the Victory, both his heart and liberty; and beside you know that amongst all the Princes of the Earth, only the Emperor of the Romans is greater than he, and the King of Parthia alone his equal; so that in our better Fortune you could not have hoped for a more advantageous offer, than that which presents itself to you, now our Affairs are desperate, and when the King of Scythia can finish our ruin, and render himself Master of our Destinies. The King of the Nomads, the King of the Basternes, and the King of Bythinia's Son, are dead for our interests, and of an Army of an Hundred thousand men, there scarce remains Twenty thousand, and a great part of those wounded, who beg the peace with as much strength as they are weak to return to the Battle; beside all this, your Destiny calls you to it, and you have not so little judgement, but to know that the Crown of Scythia, promised by the gods to Menalippa, cannot be Conquered by our Forces, nor put upon Menalippa's Head, but by her Marriage with Alcamenes.  
To these persuasions, the Queen added whatever she thought capable to bend the Princess' mind to what she desired; and before she concluded, made her understand, that she asked her consent but to a thing already resolved, and to which she absolutely commanded her to conform her obedience.  
Menalippa understanding the Queen's resolution, and not daring to contradict her long, sighed with grief, and dissembling so much as she could possibly the rage that transported her: Madam, said she, I was not prepared for this day's Trial, nor did I think the cause of Orontes and Alcamenes would be handled by the Queen Amalthea against Menalippa; respect closeth my mouth, yet will not hinder me to demand till to morrow, to remit my spirit into that obedience which it ought, in which time, I hope so to work on my heart, that I may contradict you no more, but I beseech you that I may have it entirely free from the visits of any body.  
Amalthea believing that the Princess would submit to her will, for the reason's sake at lest which accompanied it, easily granted what she demanded, and having kissed and embraced her with all the marks of tenderness (to which the disconsolate Lady made no return) went forth out of the Chamber, commanding that he should be seen only by whom she would.  
The Queen acquainted the King of Scythia's Ambassador with what had passed, entreating him to stay with her till the morrow, that he might return to his Master with the entire resolution of his Negotiation: The Prince obeyed, sending one of his Servants to advertise the King concerning the state of Affairs, and the disposition which he had found in the Queen of Dacia to conclude the peace which he had proposed.  
During the rest of this Day, and the Night following, the Dacians (the evil Estate of whose Affairs made them ardently desire the peace, and who the day before had feared their total Defeat, passing from mortal fears to the sweetest hopes) gave a thousand Testimonies of their joy; and even those who came from burying their Brothers, or dear Friends, could not but partake in the common satisfaction; the thoughts of the Commanders were conformable to those of the Soldiers; and (except Merodates and Phrataphernes) there was scarce a man in the Army, but appeared full of content, praising the moderation of the King of Scythia. The next Morning so soon as the Queen was dressed, she went into Menalippa's Chamber, imagining that her own time of considering being expired, she was disposed to follow her Mother's Commands. But O gods! how great was her astonishment; when approaching her Daughter's Bed, she found her not there, and only saw a large open place in the Tent, by which she went out.  
Amalthea would not give credit to her first fears, but going into the Chamber of the Princess' Maids, she found them all except Belisa, who lay with her Mistress, but could learn no News of Menalippa: Then in passing again into her Chamber, she saw a Letter upon the Table, which at the first sight she knew to be the Princess' hand; she snatched it up with precipitation, and readd these words.  
MENALIPPA to the Queen AMALTHEA.  
FInding it impossible to obey your cruel Command, and being unable (without an extreme grief) to see myself reduced to a necessity of disobeying you, I have endeavoured by my flight to prevent the one, or other, of these evils; and I am possibly less capable in this action towards you, than if I had openly opposed your will; and towards the gods, than if I had espoused Alcamenes: A Barbarian it is, whose Crimes (whereof you are ignorant) are known to me, and will be in time declared to you; in the interim (Madam) pardon me, if I preserve those resentments wherewith you inspired me, and if I declare that I will never marry Alcamenes, nor any other that cannot bring me Alcamenes 's Head: 'tis to this I invite all those who have testified hitherto an inclination to serve me, and to this it is that I solicit the valiant Merodates and Phrataphernes, and all those who believe the possession of Menalippa to be a Fortune good enough to invite them unto any danger. Trouble not yourself at my departure; I go before you into Dacia; where you shall find me, so soon as you have quitted the Design of giving me to Alcamenes: It is not without a sensible regret that I leave your Majesty, but I have left a far greater in my Soul, for having been so unhappily deceived in my opinion of your affection, which hath abandoned me in a deplorable extremity; but this cruel constraint (which I expected not from a nature sometimes so full of bounty) in taking away my last consolations; hath not taken away from me the resentments of that love, respect, and veneration which I have hitherto preserved for my Mother, and will preserve to my Tomb.  
I know not (great Princesses) how to express the Queen's grief at the reading of this Letter, and the knowledge of Menalippa's flight; all that I can say, will be so far below the Truth, that you will pardon me if I enlarge not on this part. I will only say, that possibly never a person so constant and courageous as Amalthea, gave so public testimonies of grief; she poured forth a River of tears, tore her Hair, and called the gods a thousand times for witnesses of her misfortunes, and uttered all that a most violent grief could inspire a Soul less moderate than hers withal, and when the first transports were passed, having sent for the Princess' Domestiques, who were all there except Belisa and Leander, she knew that only these two had accompanied her: you may imagine also that she failed not to cause many to take Horse, with order to bring her back if it were possible, or to wait upon her into Dacia, if her Design was to retire thither; part of the Army disbanded upon this occasion, and the Camp was almost quite deserted through every one's impatience to seek Menalippa; Merodates and Phrataphernes (content with the rupture of this Marriage, and fierce and proud at the mention Menalippa made of them in her Letter, and the confidence they had in their own Valour, having protested aloud they would obey this glorious command, that they would lose their lives, or take away that of Alcamenes) took Horse with the first, and followed according to the best conjecture the Tract of Menalippa.  
The Queen perceiving amongst the rest in her Chamber, the King of Scythia's Ambassador, turned towards him (her eyes drowned in tears) and presenting him the Letter, which she held in her hand; You may see my misfortune, said she, and you may acquaint the King your Master, and the Prince his Son, that it is no fault of mine, that the peace and alliance second not his intent, nay rather, though having desired it with passion, causing me to make use of my authority out of season, I have lost my Daughter, and with her, all the consolation of my life.  
The Prince of the Tauroscythes answering in tears, which expressed the interest he took in her afflictions: I will hope from the generosity of Orontes (added she) that he will not set upon me in my misfortune, nor refuse me now a peace which himself hath offered; the alliance shall be (if he desires it) completed so soon as I have the disposition of my Daughter: in the mean time I demand a free Retreat into my Country, promising him never to trouble him in his; nor will I ever forget how generously he hath used his advantages over us.  
The Scythian-Ambassador retired, and quickly after presented himself before his Master, who understood with much astonishment the success of his Negotiation; Alcamenes was less astonished, but mortally afflicted, and perceiving the King uncertain in his resolution, he conjured him to make up the peace with Amalthea, and to permit her to retire peaceably with her Troops; and the King willing to comply with his Son, sent Amphimacus the same day to the Dacian Camp, with full power to conclude the peace, and to favour the Retreat of the Dacians so much as the Queen could desire.  
Amalthea received with joy the courtesy of King Orontes, and protested she would never be his Enemy; then giving order for the march, she disencamped the next Morning towards Dacia, full of a mortal grief for the loss of Menalippa.  
Thus ended that War which had been conceived and begun with so much noise, and so fair hopes, and that Army who expected no less than the Conquest of Scythia, returned inconsiderable in their number, and pitiful in their condition, having left the greatest part of their Companions in that Country which a few days before they beheld as the Field of their Victories. A little after, the King Orontes quitted the City of Nicia, and having taken leave of his now unprofitable Troops, and ordered their Princes his Vassals to lead them into their several Countries, he returned to the chief City, carrying the said Alcamenes along with him; which he could never have done, had not his respect to the King made him do violence to himself.  
You may imagine that his mortal sadness received no small increase at the reading of Menalippa's Letter which fell into his hands; nor could he apprehend why this Princess (who before these last effects of his passion, had appeared most moderate in all her actions) should not be content to have precipitated herself into a dangerous Combat, through the only desire of killing him, nor content to have disobeyed the commands of her Mother, for whom she had always preserved a profound respect; but also by her flight to expose her person to those dangers which do continually threaten her Sex, declaring to the Queen her Mother and all the World, that she would never marry any man but him who brought her Alcamenes his Head; he could not consider all these things without a clear sight of Menalippa's hate, which possessed him with the greatest extremities of grief a heart ever submitted to; and as he continually reasoned with himself upon the cause of his unhappiness: Is it possible, would he sometimes say, that my being born of Orontes should kindle so much hatred in a heart I have formerly known so generous, and so reasonable? And is it so great a Crime for the Son of Orontes to love Menalippa? And an offence so cruel against the Daughter of Amalthea, to be loved by the Son of Orontes, that it should render the Son a thousand times more odious than the Father, and inspire her with so cruel and desperate Designs against him, having never entertained but moderate ones against his Father; but what could be this Crime hid and unknown to the Queen her Mother, whereof she accused me in the Letter, unless it be the boldness of having loved her, knowing myself to be the Son of her Enemy? After what manner soever I examine the actions of my life, I can find myself culpable of no other fault, and that methinks cannot justly deserve those punishments which the pitiless Menalippa ordains me, nor carry the fair Princess to such resolutions against her faithful and innocent adored; the love of Alcamenes should appear more considerable in the person of a man who was Enemy to her house, and in the person of a Prince who was conceived, born and nourished in the hatred of Menalippa, and her Family, rather than in one who had submitted under favourable aspects, and who had no crosses in his pretensions, neither from fortune nor former inclinations; yet it pleased the gods, and my cruel Destiny, that this fair and just Menalippa, should arm herself with an unknown steel to take away my life, exposing her own to danger to destroy mine, and arming the whole World against me.  
He stopped some moments upon this consideration which had almost awaked resentments in his Soul able to combat his love; but he found himself too weak to undertake it, for although the comfortless Prince, apprehended in the unjust proceedings of Menalippa, a just occasion to revolt from his love, yet could he not bring it about, or scarce form a desire towards it: If I consult my reason (said he) if I consult my courage, they will tell me, that I ought no longer to love this cruel person, who arms herself against my life with such obstinate inhumanity: But though my reason and courage are counsellors strong enough, yet are they unable to assist me, and it is assistance I want, when counsels are unnecessary; depart then all other thoughts, all other resolutions, save those of dying for Menalippa; 'tis my life I must give her, since 'tis my life she demands; it is unnecessary to arm Phrataphernes or Merodates to procure my death, for Alcamenes himself will serve you more faithfully and more powerfully, and through his means you will doubtlessly obtain that whereof by other means you will be very uncertain; I will go and pierce in your presence this unfortunate heart, whose flames are so criminal; and will satisfy your eyes and desires if it be possible with a spectacle able to cleave with pity any other heart but Menalippa's. This was his last resolution, nor did he weigh the design of killing himself before Menalippa's eyes, and of presenting her with that odious Head which she demanded.  
He was prepared for this funest Voyage, and the day was already come, when he saw an Herald arrive, who (having demanded of the King the accustomed Sureties) defied the Prince Alcamenes in the behalf of Phrataphernes and Merodates: The King was exceeding angry at this defiance, and had he not been withheld by his Virtue, as well as by the Law of Nations, he would have exemplarily chastised this boldness; he spoke to the Herald in terms which made him tremble, and told him he was not resolved to permit his Son to fight against those Princes whose lives he had granted a few days before, and who possessed neither life nor liberty but by his bounty alone; that such Combats were not ordinary amongst persons of Alcamenes' Quality; and that through his facility he would not introduce the damnable custom of defying Princes in their own Courts: To this he spoke many things full of Choler, and his resentments were approved by the whole Court, who murmured highly at the liberty of these strangers; but Alcamenes appeased this Tumult by his Authority, and respectfully opposing himself to the resentments of the King his Father, said aloud, That he knew no reason why this Combat should be dispensed with, being demand▪ by Princes of an equal Quality to his; and confidently protested at last to the King, that (having never contradicted his will till then) he would go seek them in their own Countries, in case he denied them to fight in his presence. Orontes opposed a long time the Prince's Design, with reasons which all the World approved, yet were they too weak to resist Alcamenes' resolution, and after a long contest this desperate Prince obtained leave on the morrow to fight them both one after the other in the greatest Plain of Serica, not enduring to divide that into two days which he thought he could finish in one; nay, he obtained of the King in the Herald's presence an Oath, that in case he were so unhappy as to lose his life, the Princes might retire without the least harm; After this promise, and the safe conduct signed by the King's hand, the Herald returned to his Masters, who lodged not far from the City, and who had the liberty to enter and provide them what they thought necessary for the Combat. Alcamenes sent to visit them, and constrained them to profess, notwithstanding their animosity, that so brave a Prince deserved rather the love, than the hatred of Menalippa.  
After Alcamenes had a good while consulted how he ought to carry himself in this Combat, he thought it better to testify his love and respect to Menalippa, by presenting his naked breast to those whom she had sent to take away his life and continued sometime in the Design of rendering his Neck to the Sword of Merodates, or Phrataphernes, since Fortune seemed to favour his Design of giving his life to his Princess; but a little▪ after, Choler against his Enemy's awakening, and Jealousy against his Rivals, he repented his Design of giving away with his life the victory and possession of Menalippa: No, no, said he, I will not give to these Enemies (whose hatred requires it) neither the glory nor the reward of the victory, it shall be presented more gloriously to the Princess Menalippa by the hand of Alcamenes; this was his last resolution, and scarce had the next Morning light appeared, when he was covered with his Arms the very same he wore in the Combat against Menalippa, and not amuzing himself with many formalities to render the Action more pompous, he marched towards the place appointed, accompanied by all the persons of Quality of the Court, who would needs have the Honour to wait upon him.  
The people of Serica had already filled the place, unless that patch which was environed by the Barriers, and intended for the Combatants: The Judges (whereof the one was Prince of the Tauroscythes, and the other a Prince of Phrataphernes' Kindred) had already taken their places, and the two stranger Princes appeared almost at the same time, covered with proud Arms, and advantageously mounted; they had determined by lot who should fight first, and it happened to Phratapherne: which Merodates impatiently suffered, though he believed there would be Valour enough to employ his against. He remained at the further end of the Barriers, whilst Phratapherne advanced in the Lists, with an Action which made every one behold him as a valiant man. After they had divided the Sun, and observed other formalities, the two Warriors parted at the third Signal of the Trumpet, and having traversed the space which separated them with exceeding swiftness, they found themselves in the middle of the Lists, with an equal force, but a different fortune: Alcamenes was lightly wounded in the shoulder, there where the Casque joins to the extremes of the Cuirass; but having directed the point of his Javelin to the Visier of Phratapherne, thrust the murdering steel to the hinder part of this unfortunate Prince's Head, who fell without life over the Crupper of his Horse.  
The Scythians cast forth a cry of joy for their Prince's Victory, and those of the Train of Phratapherne bewailed with a mournful murmur, the Destiny of their deplorable Master; they entered the Lists to take away the Body, nor could Alcamenes behold their Action without testifying some marks of grief and pity.  
But he had not time to make great Demonstrations of his resentments: for scarce had he given some moments to the consideration of that misfortune, which within a few days had made him spill so much blood, when he was drawn out of it by the impatient Merodates, who desiring rather to offer blood than tears, to the Ghost of his Companion, spurred into the Lists with a menacing posture; but before he could put himself into a condition to fight, a man passing amongst the Servants of Phratapherne, accosted him, presenting him with a Letter. Merodates, who feared no Treachery from his Enemy, made no difficulty to read it.  
Alcamenes casting his eyes upon the Messenger's face, observed some features which were not altogether unknown to him, and a little after knew him for the same Leander who had been his Squire, and whom he had left in Dacia to give his Letter to Menalippa: Merodates having quickly read the Billet: Alcamenes, said he, you may see the orders I have received for our Combat, and by the conditions they impose upon me, you ought well to defend your Head: Alcamenes having received the Billet without Reply, saw with a mighty surprise that it was Menalippa's hand; but his astonishment was increased, when having cast his eyes upon it with sighs, he read these words.  
MENALIPPA to MERODATES.  
REmember Merodates, that it is not your Victory, but the Head of Alcamenes, that I require: you must die or kill that Barbarian, there being no other way to Conquer Menalippa.  
At the sight of this known Character, and reading those cruel words, the disconsolate Alcamenes had almost lost Courage, and it is not without wonder, that in the grief which oppressed him, he could be able to fight with one of the most valiant men of the World, he lifted up his eyes to Heaven with an Action full of pity, nor could his just resentments hinder him from bearing this Billet to his mouth, reverencing that Princess whom he adored even in those marks of her inhumanity. It is just, Menalippa, (said he, with a voice defected into sighs) that this odious Alcamenes should lose that life so much detested by you; but it must be from Alcamenes, not from Merodates, that this heartburning for you must receive its mortal wounds, and you will be little obliged to me, if any other hand, save mine own, should offer you this agreeable victim. He would possibly have said more, when Merodates retook his Billet: Alcamenes, said he, you see the hard conditions of our Combat, and that there is no favour to be shown or hoped for, since I must obey Menalippa; Alcamenes, Maugre the grief which transported him, beheld Merodates with a smile full of sharpness and disdain, Use thy Victory, if the gods give it thee, said he, but I do not fear to see Alcamenes this day soliciting the Clemency of Merodates. They said no more, but separating towards the extremities of the Lists, that they might take their Career, they parted at the same time with an equal fury, and joined with a success little unequal, their Javelins breaking without any effect upon their Bucklers; then drawing their Swords, they dealt blows worthy the hands that discharged them.  
As Merodates was valiant amongst the most valiant, so this Combat became brave and long, and sometime-doubtful; but it will be difficult to relate all the particulars of this Combat, and having already in this Story described very many Combats, it will perhaps be unpleasant to you; I will only say, that an hour past ere Victory declared itself on either side, and as Merodates to his ordinary Valour added resolution either to conquer or die, he often put the life of Alcamenes into great danger, and saw not his own blood run down his Armour, without making his Enemies blush with the same tincture; those to whom Alcamenes' Valour was known, wondered to see that of Merodates' little inferior; and there were some moments wherein the King Orontes trembled and waxed pale, repenting that he had not utterly opposed this Combat. But the Genius of Alcamenes was stronger than that of Merodates, and the Victory was due to him, and reserved for him.  
Merodates' perceived the diminution of his strength, and it seemed to him that the force of Alcamenes received an increase, (nor was it a wonder that he grew so weak, having lost so much blood.) Alcamenes desirous of the Victory, gave him no respite whilst he thought him able to dispute it, and dealt him at last so many wounds, that having no more force to hold himself upon his Saddle, he was too weak to resist the powerful Arms of his Adversary, who embracing him about the middle, drew him from the Saddle, and threw him upon the Earth. Merodates had no power to rise, and Alcamenes having alighted almost so soon as he was down, the vanquished Prince doubted not but that he was coming to execute with rigour the conditions of the Combat. This thought made him lose no Courage, and beholding Alcamenes with an assured eye: Finish, said she, thy Victory, and take away from me a shameful life, which I neither can, nor will ask of thee. Thou shalt not ask it, replied Alcamenes, but thou shalt receive it from him in whose power it is to take it away, and I will leave thee so glorious, that thou shalt be able to present it to Menalippa without shame, to whom I will testify the brave thing thou hast done to obey her.  
Merodates' sighing with grief, received this favour, and beholding the Prince with resentments which had nothing of the Enemy in them; I know not, said he, by what misfortune a man so virtuous could have incurred the hatred of Menalippa, but the respects which I preserve for her, shall never more arm me against you; and if I escape these wounds you have given me, I shall behold you as my Conqueror, and the most generous man upon Earth.  
He had spoken more, had not the Prince, who feared the loss of his blood would prove the loss of his life, which he desired to preserve, caused him to be taken up, and carried to the Palace, ordering his wounds to be dressed with as much care as they would take for his own.  
But scarce had he performed this generous part, and not yet remounted, when from amongst the Throng a Cavalier rushed in with impetuosity, who passing through a place in the Barriers which was open, and spurring his Horse towards the Prince, accosted him with his Sword in his hand, before he could prepare to receive him, and aiming his Sword at the default of his Cuirass, pierced it through his body up to the Guards.  
Thus this great Prince vanquisher of so many Princes, fell upon the Field, where he had obtained two so gallant Victories, and scarce could his Soul contain itself from following a River of blood, which covered the ground round about him: A thousand cries were raised in an instant at an Accident so strange and unlooked for. Thousands ran to the fallen Prince and his Assasine, who by a Thousand Swords had lost his life, if some prudent persons, who knew of how great consequence it was to arrest criminals of this Nature living, had not opposed the first fury of the Tumult, telling them that it was by punishments proportionable to the Crime, that such Monsters ought to perish; and that by Torments those things were to be drawn from them, which a sudden death would prevent.  
Thus hindered they the destruction of Alcamenes Murderer, yet they loaded him with Chains, and carried him to Prison, whence he was not likely to return, save to those tortures which the grandeur of his wicked Action deserved.  
The King, overwhelmed by this Accident, had almost lost a Courage which never yet forsook him; it so pierced his heart, that it was difficult to know whether of the two was the more dangerously wounded. All the City, which Alcamenes' virtues had filled with as much love as veneration, with tears lamented his misfortune; and it seemed as if this one blow had laid all the hopes of Scythia in its Tomb.  
Those esteemed themselves happy who could lend their arms and care, to carry their Prince to the Palace, and the great multitudes of people who pressed to succour him, had almost deprived him of all succour; the cruel Sword stuck in his body, and scarce in drawing it out, could they hinder the Life from following; the Surgeons who visited this large wound by two Orifices, could give the King no apparent hopes, saying only they had seen greater wounds cured, and that it was not impossible but that the Prince might be saved. You may imagine they employed all their Art about a cure of that importance, and as they were the most experienced of all Scythia, they made use of those remedies which were indeed the most capable of preserving the Prince's life; for a long time they could not recover his lost senses, and when (by the force of remedies) they returned, it was with so much weakness, and so little knowledge, that it increased the general fear: They dressed also his other wounds which he received from Merodates, but they were inconsiderable.  
The King (who always remained with him full of an unconceivable displeasure, and who by all his Courage could not render himself Master of his mortal grief) was obliged at last to quit the Chamber, leaving the wounded Prince to his necessary repose, and passing into his own apartment, he there committed himself to the most violent effects of his afflictions. The remainder of this day he gave to tears and sighs, and past the whole Night in a suitable occupation: but the next Morning to his tender grief succeeded a just resentment, and a desire to know who was the person guilty of so great a Crime, that he might study a proportionable vengeance both for him and his Abettors; therefore (though against the ordinary forms and customs of Kings, who are leldom seen by Criminals) judging that an Adventure so little common, aught to be proceeded in after an extraordinary manner, he sent for the Assasine of Alcamenes to examine him, himself not confiding in his Judges upon an Affair of so great importance: they obeyed his Command, and a few moments after, he saw the Criminal enter in the midst of the Guards with two others, who voluntarily offered themselves Prisoners, and who confessed themselves guilty of the same Fact. The King notwithstanding all his moderation, could scarce contain himself from running on them to strangle them with his own hands, instead of an examination. But had he not been arrested by the Dignity of his person, the beauty which surprised him, had been a sufficient stop to the torrent of his passions, which at the same time struck, and filled him with admiration and astonishment.  
The Garments of the Criminal had been abused and torn by those that had taken him, and his body so loaded with Irons, that he could scarce stand under them; but through the vail of this misery shone a beauty so inflaming, and eyes brighter than the Planet under which they were born, casting beams so quick and piercing, that the Soul of the afflicted King pre-occupied as it was with grief and rage, could not refuse to this imperial object its due respect: he remained quite confused and nonplussed; then fixing his eyes awhile upon this fair face, and comparing Menalippa's cruel hate, together with so much of her face as he had seen in her former Combat with Alcamenes, he suspected it was she herself; but from suspicion he quickly passed into a certainty, when this fair person perceiving his astonishment, permitted him not to open his mouth, but beholding him with an assured eye, Orontes, said she, our offences are equal: Thou hast slain my Father, and I thy Son. This Discourse will inform thee that I am Menalippa; I have executed a vengeance due to my hand only, and committed a Crime in thy opinion, whereof I neither can nor will repent; give that then to the revenge of thy Son, which I have given to a person more dear to me than ever Alcamenes was to his Father: spill my blood, I have spilt thy Sons, and thou shalt see I will implore thy Clemency neither by word nor sigh; but if thou thinkest any thing due to the dignity of my Birth and Sex, suffer me no longer to languish under these shameful Irons wherewith I am laden, and preserve at my death that honour which I have inviolably kept through the most unhappy accidents of my life.  
Thus spoke Menalippa with a countenance which made Orontes judge that the fear of Death was the least of her care, and he was so moved by her looks and Discourse, that had Menalippa been guilty of any other Crime than the assasination of Alcamenes, she had overthrown all his resentments against her; but Alcamenes was too dear to Orontes, and the Act of Menalippa appeared too cruel, to suffer him to submit so soon to those tendernesses which she might have raised in another heart. And beholding her with eyes wherein were represented the different motions of his passions: Cruel and inhuman person, said he, What fury could stretch thy barbarous Arm against the bosom of the unfortunate Alcamenes? And what offence hast thou received from a Prince, who gave thee his heart at that time when thou didst assault his life with so much inhumanity? 'tis with too much injustice that thou sayest our offences are equal; thou hast slain a Prince who adores thee, and who, notwithstanding the efforts thou hast made against his life, breathes not but to love thee: And though I took away thy Father's life, it was when he assaulted mine, his Sword in his hand, in a Battle, and in a posture which hath left no reproach upon my memory, nor to thee or thine any just occasion of resentment; but if there remains any, why fell it not upon Orontes, but on the innocent Alcamenes? And wherefore sparedst thou not that heartburning for thee, to carry thy rage against thy Father's Murderer? Ah! doubtless the loss of my life was not capable of satisfying thee, and thou hast with reason fancied, that in taking away my Sons, thou shouldest deprive me of mine, with a double portion of torment; I have offered thee this unfortunate Prince, whom thou hast taken from me, and with him my Empire, in a time when I could have made thee perish, with the relics of that Army, which misguided Rage had conducted into my Country; possibly, this offer had not been disadvantageous for Menalippa; and Alcamenes was great enough both by his Actions and Birth, to have found in any other heart save thine, another manner of acknowledgement.  
The afflicted Father spoke thus, and would have extended his reproaches to a further length, if Menalippa (who, truly touched with compassion for him, though her unhappy Error suffered her not to be so for Alcamenes) had not interrupted him, wiping away some tears which sprinkled her Cheeks.  
King of Scythia (said she) though I will not seek an excuse for the action which I have done, yet I protest to thee before the gods, that it was not to be revenged on Orontes, that I punished Alcamenes; and that I never entertained any hatred against thee which was not guided by reason, or which was capable of carrying me to any particular designs either against thine or thy Son's life; but know, that I have punished Alcamenes for his own fault, and that I had never assaulted his life, had he not taken out of the World by the most unworthy and barbarous treason, all that I could love amongst men, and all that could carry me to these extremities, which may make it appear to thee that I am weary of my life: Thou shalt know no more, and Heaven is my Witness, that I would never have said so much to any one else; dispose now of my destiny at thy pleasure, preserve only in my death the respect due to the modesty of my Sex, and the dignity of my Birth.  
The tears which the remembrance of Alcimedon drew from Menalippa's eye, stopped the course of her words, and the King shaking his Head at her Discourse, testifying the little Credit he gave to it: Those reproaches of Treason and Unworthiness (said he) wherewith thou abusest Alcamenes, will find little faith amongst men, with whom his Actions are clear enough; and if he hath slain any one that was dear to thee, it must have been in Battle, or in some of those Combats which thy Rage hath raised against him. But Alcamenes is not yet dead, and if it please the gods to leave him with me, I shall have generosity enough to return thee free into thy Country, and forget, in favour of thy Sex and Beauty; and Alcamenes love, the bloody injury thou hast done me; but if my Son dyeth of the wound received from thy hand, by the immortal gods I will not leave his death unpunished; were Alcamenes dead, I would lose that life without regret, which I only preserve for his ruin, and in which there remains nothing which can make me desire its conservation.  
These words made the King judge that the Soul of Menalippa was possessed with a powerful despair, and he began to believe that her hatred might have another foundation than the King her Father's death; yet quite transported with grief and anger as he was, he commanded them to take away the Irons from her hands and feet, and to give her Garments conformable to her Sex (if she would,) and instead of the Goal an Apartment in the Palace, with order to guard her carefully, yet so, that she might taste nothing of Captivity save that of a Prison.  
Menalippa praising the moderation of Orontes, and unable to disapprove his resentments, had some regret for his grief, and, being discharged of her Irons, she retired into the apartment they offered her, where she put on woman's clothes, not those they presented, because they were her Enemies, but such as she caused Belisa to carry with her, she refusing any other attendants. Whilst the wounded Prince disputed betwixt life and death, his wound being so great that a complexion less robust than his could not have one moment survived the cruel stroke; he passed the Night with great weakness, and the day following when they took away the Plasters, the fear ceased not; and the Surgeons only said, as the day before, there were some hopes, and though his cure was difficult, yet was it not impossible. As they permitted not the Prince to speak, so they permitted only such to stay in his Chamber that were necessary for the present necessity, and it was in this solitude and silence that they perceived this poor Prince (whose judgement in spite of his feebleness and violent Fever was entire and sound) studying upon his adventure unable to imagine by all conjectures that his wound came upon any other account save Menalippa's. The King would not tell him what he knew, for fear the News should increase his misfortune and affliction, by letting him know that Menalippa had been charged with Irons, and dragged to a Prison; but that which the Prince's thoughts were most busied on, was, that the Sword wherewith he had been wounded remaining after the blow in his body, he believed that by this Sword he could clear himself of part of his suspicions, and having called one of those which served him, he commanded to bring it to him; it was remarkable enough through the beauty of the Hilt, to have caused some one in the Chamber to have it carried it away, but by Fortune it was left, and presented to the Prince, who no sooner cast his eyes upon it, but he knew it for the same he had along time worn under the Name of Alcimedon, and which he had given to Cleomenes with the rest of his Arms, and which he saw in Menalippa's hand in the first Combat: This sight made him imagine that it was by Menalippa's hand he had been wounded, and calling to mind that little of her face which appeared as she fell on him, and remembering the Letter which Merodates received from her by Leander, whom he believed to be still in her Service, he no longer doubted but that it was from Menalippa that he received the wound. This knowledge was the Parent of different thoughts, and if it redoubled his grief to see the continuation of Menalippa's hatred, he received also much consolation through the belief he had, that, to please Menalippa before he died, he could not die more gloriously than by her hand; he rolled this thought sometime in his mind without speaking, at last raising his voice with a weak and an unassured tone: Ah (said, he) the gods be praised, I die by the hand of Menalippa. He repeated these words divers times: and, a little after, Well Menalippa (added he) since 'tis your Will that I die by your hand, I willingly embrace it, and shall receive my death with an entire joy, if I may be permitted to kiss the hand that gave it. He stopped at these words, casting his eyes sometimes on the fatal Sword, and sometimes on those that stood round about him, who conjured him to be silent, if he desired to preserve his life; but they were much more astonished, when after he had kept silence sometime; But why, said he, do I oppose myself to Menalippa's Will, since she thrust not this revenging Sword into the odious body of Alcamenes, but that he should die thereby? What should oblige me to suffer these Remedies, which are contrary to Menalippa's intention? In saying thus, he would have carried his hand to the binding of his wound, to tear them off; but those which were with him knowing his intention, had laid hold of his hands, which by reason of his weakness were easily mastered, whilst others went, to advertise the King, who was in a Chamber by, and who never but almost by force left his Son's Bedside. Alcamenes stayed his hand when he saw the King, for whom he had always a great respect, and this afflicted person who came to know the cause of his Despair, telling him with are proach, full of tenderness, that he could not neglect his own life without hazarding that of his Fathers: Alcamenes instead of answering to this Discourse, beholding the King with a passionate Air: My Lord (said he) Menalippa is in your hands, in the Name of the gods hide not from me where Menalippa is: The King, who imagined he could not long conceal the Truth, confessed it all, and told him that for his sake what reasons soever he had to the contrary, he had taken Menalippa out of Prison, dismissed her Chains, and given her an Apartment in the Palace, with order to serve her like a Princess of her Birth.  
Alcamanes peaceably harkened to the King, and when he had left speaking, My Lord, (said he) if you love the life of the unfortunate Alcamenes, Treat Menalippa not as his Murderer, but as his Princess and Sovereign Queen; in taking away mylife, she only takes her own; and when she pierceth this heart by a thousand wounds, she only outrageth herself. In the Name of the gods, my Lord, Order, that instead of Prisons and Irons, that they give her Crowns and Sceptres, if she will receive them from us; and if she refuseth them from an Enemy, detain her no longer in a Captivity which cannot but be odious to her, and cause her to be conducted into Dacia with an Equipage suitable to so great a Princess, and the Heir to so great a Kingdom. Do me this favour, my Lord, if you will that I die satisfied, or live so long as the gods shall please to permit; and in reward of that fidelity which I will preserve for this memorable Princess to my Tomb, obtain the favour of her, my Lord, that, before my last sigh I am enjoy her sight a moment, though it be only to receive reproaches from her fair mouth, which will make me either the more contentedly die, or give forces to prolong this life as you desire. He had said more, if the King (who beheld with what passion he made this Discourse) had not left him, promising to endeavour what he desired, on condition that he would perform his part for the preservation of his life.  
Alcamenes promised the King all that he would, that he might obtain what he desired; and the tender King without deferring it longer, went into the Apartment, where they guarded Menalippa.  
This Princess, who had appeared before him with shame in a man's Habit, had now taken the Garments of her own Sex, and the King seeing her in a posture wherein she had not appeared unto him, could not refuse her the respect due to so extraordinary a beauty, and his heart being touched to the quick with Alcamenes' desire, he accosted the Princess no more as a Criminal, but as the absolute Mistress of his Son's Destiny, and tendering her the honour due to her Quality: Princess (said he) Alcamenes dies as you desire, and the sooner, cause you desire it; he shall die full of dissatisfaction, if he first sees you not free, and conducted into Dacia, so soon as you desire, in a condition conformable to your Birth; I vow I should not have been so generous as to have permitted you to depart gloriously with the life of my Son, and of a Son worthy a better Destiny; but since it is his Will, and possibly the last Will of this unfortunate Prince, you are free, and may depart this odious Country when you please. I only ask this one thing of you, if the prayers of a King whom you have rendered the most unhappy Prince upon Earth, may touch you, that you will permit Alcamenes to see you a moment, and give you his last adieu. This favour (such as it is) is possibly due to the reparation of the injury you have done me; and it ought not to be refused to a Prince, who receives from you his Death's wound with so much respect and resignation.  
Menalippa was not only astonished at these words, but she also resented a mortal affliction to find so much generosity in persons against whom her hatred ought to extend, even to the utmost extremities. And unable to dissemble the first resentments that presented themselves to her spirit, Immortal gods, cried she, can it be that a man who by so much wickedness hath armed me against his life, should testify so much virtue in the rest of his Actions? Or must it be that Barbarians become innocent, only to render me more guilty? My Lord, continued she (turning towards the King) I will see Alcamenes, since you desire it; not as the price of that life and liberty which you offer me, and which I refuse; nor to express any Repentance of the evil I have done him, but to make him confess before you, as he confessed to me in our Combat, that 'tis not the Father's offence which hath armed me against the Son, and that the cruel Treason which he hath committed, is worthy of a death less glorious than that which possibly he hath received from the hands of Menalippa; your interest in his misfortune hath touched me, and I shall be well satisfied that you learn from his mouth that which will partly justify the injury I have done you. In saying these words, she walked towards the Apartment of Alcamenes with the King who accompanied her, followed by Belisa, who left her not, and gave no time to the King to advertise the Prince of her coming.  
The Curtains were drawn in Alcamenes' Chamber to exclude the light, and the Bed was placed in a corner so obscure, that one might enter the Chamber, and approach the Bed without beholding his face; but the passionate Prince beheld attentively that of the fair Princess, and was so strucken, that his forces were unable to support him. Menalippa, unwilling to make a long stay in the Chamber of Alcimedon's Murderer; and desiring to explain herself in a few words, she cast an assured regard on that side where she saw the Prince, and doing violence to herself that she might speak: Alcamenes, said she, I come at the desire of the King thy Father, to present thee the face of that unplacable Enemy whom thy black Treason hath armed against thy life, even to the last moment of hers; 'tis thy Crime and thy Destiny which hath rendered me cruel, and not my inclinations; and thou art not ignorant that that black Action which the forests and obscurities have hid, hath made me return into thy bosom so just a vengeance. Declare to the King thy Father that which thou didst confess to me, or rather discover a Crime whereof thou didst boast in our Combat; Modesty hath made me hitherto hide the interest I have therein, even in the extremities whereto it hath carried our lives; I will pass by thee (whom I have no intent to satisfy) and give thee to the justification I owe to the King thy Father, that which I have refused to the repose of the Queen my Mother, if the gods will prolong thy days, and defend them against the Arms of Menalippa: after the sight and repentance of thy Crime thy life will be more tranquil; and if it be their Will that thou diest of the wound I have given thee, thou wilt justify me amongst men, and make that known for a just vengeance, which by misunderstanding passeth for an effect of rage and cruelty. I am not troubled at the loss of my life, if in sacrificing thine I have satisfied the Ghost of him I love: Thus spoke Menalippa, and she might long have spoken without the Prince's interruption; for it was the ill Fortune of Alcamenes, that he was fallen into a Swoon, without which, he had spoken, and made himself known to Menalippa, and by that discovery had finished those cruel Traverses which so long had persecuted his life; but the gods would not that this hour should be the last of his sufferings.  
When he came to himself, and considered the condition wherein he was, and called to mind all that had passed, his memory gave him occasion enough to exercise all his virtues, and he had certainly need of all his constancy, and all the iudeavours of the King, to consent to the care that they took of his life, which promising to permit, he engaged the King to set Menalippa at liberty, and the King gave him his word that the next Morning she should depart with an honourable Train, which should conduct her even into her Mother's Arms. They engaged themselves on this manner one to the other by this mutual promise, and if the Father sacrificed to the love he bore his Son all his resentments against Menalippa; Alcamenes divested himself for his Father's sake of all the aversion he had to life, and resolved to suffer those remedies, either in hope they would be fruitless, or out of Design that, in case he escaped this wound, he would seek Menalippa in Dacia, and die there before her eyes. When the King was gone out of his Chamber, he sent for Sosthenes, one of the two Squires that had served him in his Travels; the other had been killed in the first Battle, and this returned to the City but the day before, from a Government which the King had given him Alcamenes by his swooning had lost part of those words which Menalippa spoke, yet heard enough to understand that she accused him of some wickedness and black Treason: As he knew himself blameless in any thing save the innocent change of his Arms, and the supposition of Cleomènes; he would let Menalippa understand before his death part of those things he had to say to her; so that causing Sosthenes to draw near his Bed (whatever the Physicians could say to the contrary) he caused him to write that which with much pains he dictated, ordaining him to give it to Menalippa after his death: this being finished, and his spirit left to its last resolutions, he appeared more quiet than before: he inquired concerning Merodates' health, commanding their attendance on him, with as much care as on himself, charging his Servants to excuse him, being hindered by his wounds from rendering him those assistances which he ought.  
He returned thanks to all the principal Scythians, who stirred not from his Antichamber, enquiring continually concerning his recovery, and in all things he gave them reason to judge that his spirit was much calmed; but though this appeared with probability enough, it is also certain that Alcamenes' grief was now come to its utmost extremity.  
In the mean time Menalippa having demanded permission to visit Merodates, testified to him, by the most obliging words her grief and natural fierceness would permit, her acknowledgement of the Service he would have done her, and her sorrow to see him wounded for her interests; but she was astonished when she heard Merodates, instead of the passionate Discourses he used to make, to speak of nothing but the virtues of Alcamenes, testifying the displeasure he resented at the wound she had given him, protesting that if it pleased the gods to save him, he would divest himself for his sake, of all those thoughts he had entertained for her, advising her to change her hatred into acknowledgement and love, and a firm desire of rendering him possessor of that happiness, who of all men breathing did most highly deserve it.  
Menalippa was so angry at these words of Merodates in favour of Alcamenes, and Alcimedon's Murderer, that, having expressed her resentments by angry looks, she left the Chamber without Reply.  
Yet could she not hinder the strife of different thoughts which combated in her breasts: and that rage which she preserved against Alcimedon's Murderer, left room for a reflection on the love and perseverance of a Prince who died by her hand with so much resignation, who desired she might be treated with so much respect, even then when he felt the pains of that Death which she had endeavoured to give him, and who in these last sighs of his life could never be drawn to the least complaint against her.  
Her implacable fury could not hinder the Entertain of some tender thoughts, and it is certain that, had she believed Alcamenes guilty of any other Crime than the Death of Alcimedon, she would have given the Garland to pity, which combated her other resentments with a powerful force: Immortal gods (said she) that the wicked and cruel Treason of Alcamenes should be comparable with his Virtues! And could he, who testifies so much Valour and Generosity in Combats, so much perseverance and love to his pitiless Enemy, and so much constancy in his Death, should be the man who in the obscurity of a Wood by the help of twenty men should murder the innocent Alcimedon? Injurious fortune! must the wicked and perfidious become virtuous, only to render me Criminal? hast thou not made me see, hast thou not made me love, hast thou not made me lose the unfortunate Alcimedon, all to arm me against thee as an unfortunate Alcamenes?  
From hence making a reflection upon her past Fortune, and the present condition of her life, all her constancy could not divert a River of tears which poured down her fair Cheeks, passing the rest of this day, notwithstanding the comforts her faithful Belisa endeavoured to give in most mournful and deplorable employments: But if the day was cruel to her; the ensuing Night was nothing less sad, and having sufficiently tormented herself by the remembrance of Alcimedon and Alcamenes, sleep at last rendered it self Master of her Senses. After many confused Visions, that Alcimedon, whom she had continued in her thoughts, presented himself before her in a Dream: He appeared as he was when most dear to her memory, though pale and covered with blood, having his side pierced with a great wound like that which she had given Alcamenes; the beloved Prince seemed to point at the wound with one hand, and stretching forth the other with a passionate Action: Menalippa (said he) see how you recompense my love, behold the performance of your special promises! you have thrust the steel unprofitably into my Breast, for against a heart which hath always adored you, there needs no other arms than those of your hatred; behold this blood which you have cruelly spilt! and pour forth the rest, if you are so thirsty after it; but remember that you endeavour your own misfortune, and that you cannot persecute my life as you do, without submitting your own to new afflictions; content yourself at least with the evils you have already done me, seeing that even in just occasions of anger and hatred, you see me always ardent, always faithful; bend your spirit to the pity you owe me, and the love you owe yourself.  
Thus spoke the beloved Phantasm to the sleeping Princess, who was so touched with the Vision, and the passionate Discourse, that her sleep departed, leaving such as impression upon her, that in opening her eyes, she fancied that the dear Image appeared. She found herself washed with tears, and although after some moments she was able to distinguish a Dream from a real Apparition, yet could she not but stretch her Arms on that side whither she thought the spirit of Alcimedon retired, and calling him back with a voice interrupted by sighs: Return my dear Alcimedon (said she) and see that 'tis into the bosom of Alcamenes that I have thrust my revenging steel, and not into thine: Tears were too feeble to satisfy what I owe thee, and since it must be blood, who's more fit than thy Murtherer's? Already he draws towards his end, and instead of soliciting me to hasten the hour, thou indeavourest to touch me with pity for that inhuman Act; but think not that I can be sorry for your Assasine, and consider that whether in abandoning a dear Mother, a flourishing Kingdom, and leading a life exposed to many dangers, a reputation committed to the opinions of men, and all to revenge you, I have not given sufficient Testimonies that I dearly love you. She made many more Discourses of this Nature, and at last changing the Subject for Alcamenes: Wherefore deluding Alcamenes (said she) dost thou rob me of Alcimedon 's face, it is to disarm me of my just anger, whose last effects thou mayest well fear? Ah! rather take the odious shape of mine Enemy, and if thou escapest this wound, live if thou canst in safety from Menalippa 's fury, which thy submissions had almost disarmed: She talked long after this rate, tormenting herself all the Night, and in the Morning she rose early, but so troubled at her Dream, and the Ideas which it had left in her spirit, that she was scarce capable of any Discourse.  
So soon as she was dressed, the Prince of the Massagetes entered her Chamber, and told her from the King that she might depart so soon as she pleased, and that if she thought sit, an honourable Train should attend her from Serica to the Metropolis of her Kingdom.  
Menalippa was confounded at Orontes' bounty, and was even upon the point of repenting the evil she had done him, but (whilst she prepared her Answer, and was thinking in what manner she should receive her Enemies offer) she saw Sosthenes enter her Chamber with the Letter which Alcamenes had dictated.  
Menalippa received, opened, and read it, not knowing what to do in the trouble that possessed her, and had she considered she would not possibly have received a Letter from Alcimedons' Murderer; but full of pre-occupation, she read these words,  
The Dying Alcamenes, to the pitiless Menalippa.  
WEre not death more dear and glorious to me from your hand than mine own, I had prosecuted your Design; but if it be possible I will die by you, as I die for you; and if (by the anger of Heaven) this glory is refused me, I will seek my consolation in the felicity of pleasing you, and render you in Dacia this Head which you have devoted to your resentments; it is not just that you should come to seek with so much pain and peril here that which is your own, and which I would have offered to you had you not prevented me. The gods know it was always my Design to obey you, and I desire them to abandoned me to disgraces yet more great (if it be possible) than those I have already resented, if the Crimes you reproach me of, are known to me, or if I think myself culpable of any offence towards you, save when I lifted my sacrilegious hand against you. I have given the better part of my blood towards its reparation, and if there remains one sigh to complete your satisfaction, I will chase (O Menalippa) the unfortunate Soul out of my dying body, leaving it not so much as a receptacle upon my lips, unless to express the last accents of the dying Alcamenes 's love. Go then, fair Princess, into what place soever you will, either dead or alive, I will send the spirit of Alcimedon to you; he will show you the wound which you have made, and a heart where, instead of Alcamenes whom you seek to destroy, you can only harm Menalippa; pardon me the injuries which you have received in this barbarous Land, whose Crown Alcimedon promised to, and Alcamenes destined for, you; and do me the favour to believe, that you might without danger, trouble, or displeasure, have seen the last moments of,  
ALCAMENES.  
Though Menalippa read the beginning of that Letter without any particular emotion, yet those parts of it wherein he mentioned Alcimedon, where he threatened to send the spirit of Alcimedon, to show her the wound she had made, so troubled her, partly to comprehend the sense of those strange words, and the conformity they had with her Dream (the Idea of which was still fresh in her memory) and wherein the spirit of Alcimedon which Alcamenes threatened to send, had already made its first appearance; that there scarce remained either Reason or Discourse in her; she was exceedingly astonished, how Alcamenes should know that Alcimedon had promised her the Crown of Scythia, and in this mixture of different thoughts she fell into the extremities of confusion: What Fortune is mine, said she, within herself? and with what manner of man have I to deal? who could not only kill Alcimedon, but also dispose of his spirit after death, and know the most secret of his thoughts whilst living. Her spirit being embroiled on this manner, she knew not what presented itself to her eyes or thoughts, at last lifting up her eyes, which had been fixed on the ground, and fastening them on the face of Sosthenes, whom she had seen a thousand times in Dacia with Alcimedon, she presently knew him; this sight and knowledge plunged her into a great perplexity, and being forced to take her Bed through weakness, which but a little before she had left, and casting most passionate regards upon the face of Sosthenes, Are you not called Sosthenes, said she, and did you not serve Alcimedon whilst he was in Dacia? I have served him many years, said Sosthenes, and to him have I dedicated all the days of my life. How couldst thou then (replied Menalippa) without horror come near his Assasine? I have not done it, replied Sosthenes, but in obedience to his Command: and the person of his Assasine is so dear to him, that I cannot render him a more agreeable Service, than in promoting that passion which he will preserve for her even to his Tomb.  
How, replied Menalippa? Doth the spirit of Alcimedon still love the person of his Murderer? She stayed a while at these words, and (not giving Sosthenes time to speak) 'Tis no marvel, added she, that this generous spirit came whilst I slept, endeavouring to disarm my spirit against Alcamenes: and I begin to understand his threat of sending the Ghost of Alcimedon to me, though I cannot imagine what power he hath so to do. But, Sosthenes, since Alcimedon hath so dearly loved Menalippa, and that Menalippa hath preserved so much amity for Alcimedon, Wherefore, after the loss of your Master, have you not, after Leander's example, fixed yourself in Menalippa's Service, but in that of Alcamenes. This Discourse began to trouble Sosthenes, imagining (with some movements of pity) that grief had disturbed Menalippa's judgement; but as he was preparing a Reply, Leander entered the Chamber, quite out of breath, and accosted the Princess with a mighty astonishment: Madam, said he, I come to tell you News that will certainly surprise you, and fill you with Repentance for many of your Actions. Menalippa, whose spirit was already very unsettled, had not power to answer, which Leander taking for a permission to speak: Madam, pursued he, in passing through the next street, I saw two men fight with a mighty animosity; I drew near to part them, but just as I came, one of the two having received a mortal wound, fell at my feet, I drew near to help him; but whilst I was upon this friendly office, I saw myself encompassed with a great Number of others, who came upon the same Account. Your succours are unprofitable, said the wounded person to me; I perceive I must die, and the gods who at this time have justly deserted me, have permitted this in punishment of the Murder I committed on the person of Alcimedon: These words exceedingly surprised me. How, said I, are you one of those that Alcamenes made use of to kill Alcimedon? Alcamenes (replied this man) contributed nothing to the Death of Alcimedon, it was by the Command of Orchomenes King of the Nomads, whose Subject I am and who with Nineteen more of my Companions, murdered that valiant man near the City of Nicaea. Alcamenes was so far from being Alcimedon's Murderer, that he revenged it on the person of Orchomenes, whom he slew in the Battal. These words having thrust me into a marvellous astonishment; Friend (said I) in the Name of the gods hide not the Truth of that Relation which you have begun, it is of so great importance, and will conduce to the justification and repose of some so considerable persons, that you may expect very great Rewards, if the gods spare your life.  
I pretend no longer to life, replied he, and in the last moments thereof I should be sorry to lie, in charging myself with a Crime which will render my memory odious: That which is only like to justify me, is, that Orchomenes was my King, and that I am a Nomadian by birth, and at that time commanded those Troops which composed his Lifeguard. Then related he to more than Fifty persons that were present, that Orchomenes having nourished a violent hatred against Alcimedon for the death of his brother, and the imprisonment himself suffered by his Valour, no sooner saw this Prince return to the Dacian Camp, but he designed his death, and immediately after his departure from the Queen's Tents, caused some to observe which way he went; and being informed, he commanded me to take twenty more of my Companions, and attend Alcimedon's return, and kill him how he could, promising excessive recompenses, and giving part before hand. This order was punctually observed, for the innocent Alcimedon the next Morning cast himself into our Ambuscado, where he was born to the Earth, and pierced with twenty wounds in the face and throat: Thus, Madam, did he declare the circumstances; so that there is no reason to doubt but that it was so carried; a little after, notwithstanding all our endeavours to prolong his life, till the end of his Confession, he died in our Arms, and I ran with all diligence to relate the News, which will be confirmed by more than fifty Witnesses.  
This was Leander's Relation, and Menalippa had too much confidence in his fidelity to doubt the Report, and so called no other Witness; but when she made reflection upon the dying words of Alcimedon, who had uttered no other Name but that of Alcamenes, her confusion remained, and could perceive no light in these contrary appearances. It is true (said she aloud) 'tis true, that Alcamenes hath testified too much virtue in all his Actions, to be guilty of so black a Murder, yet it is true, replied she, that Alcimedon did name Alcamenes, and Alcamenes himself seemed to confess the Crime, and to glory in the death of Alcimedon.  
The Prince of the Massegetes, who was present all this time, understood nothing at all, and Sosthenes who understood a part, was ignorant of the rest, and more astonished than any. He knew the Prince had never told the King his Father any thing of those Adventures which happened to him under the Name of Alcimedon; so that before the Prince of the Massegetes, he would not speak more clearly to Menalippa, not utter those things which his astonishment had put into his mouth; but beholding her in a strange perplexity, and mortal inquietude: Madam (said he) you may believe Leander's Relation, and if you will but see Alcamenes this one time, I dare promise you that you will be certainly convinced, it was not he who slew Alcimedon. The Princess (confounded) raising herself at these words: Yes, Sosthenes, said she, I will revisit Alcamenes, and this Truth which I desire to know, is sufficiently important to make me pass beyond my resentments; I cannot understand after those words I heard from him, how he could be innocent of Alcimedon's death? but if he be really so, I will so repair the Cruelties which I have exercised towards him, that I am sure he will grant my pardon. At these words she arose, and desiring Sosthenes to demand the Princes leave to see him, she followed him immediately, and was almost so soon there as he.  
The Prince (whose wound had made many promises that day of amendment) and the King who was with him, understood with astonishment her demand; nor could they divine the cause, though the Prince imagined his Letter had done it; and resolving his spirits against any thing cruel or funest that could arrive, he prepared to receive this second Visit of Menalippa with more courage than the former, and the King thought he saw some beams of joy darting a good augure from Sosthenes' face.  
Menalippa entered the Chamber, followed by Leander and Belisa, but it was with less fierceness, and more sweetness than formerly. The King caused a Chair to be set for her by Alcamenes' Bed, where being fate, Alcamenes, said she, (with an assured countenance) I come to make that reparation which I owe to you if you are innocent, or which I owe myself if you are guilty of that Fact which I would have punished by the loss of your life; I will make a confession of that before the King, and other persons here present, which I refused to confess in the extremities of my life to my own Mother; and which I would never confess to any, were my own life only interessed therein. I have loved (since I must acknowledge it) with an innocent affection the valiant Alcimedon; his Birth was never known to me, though I am not ignorant that it was of the most illustrious amongst men; but I have loved in him all the virtues, and with so much innocence and purity, that this asseveration makes me not blush. I have lost him by a dismal accident, on that day he should have fought with you: I saw him mortally wounded, under those Arms known to all Dacia by the brave Actions he performed under them; and as he was giving up the Ghost in my Arms, I demanded the Name of his Murderer, and could draw nothing out of his mouth, but (the Prince of Scythia.) That which I owed to his revenge made me forget my Sex, love listed me a Soldier, and I covered myself with the Arms of my dear Alcimedon, to revenge him by the death of Alcamenes; and it happened that, in that Combat, you spoke to me of Alcimedon, and boasted that you had punished his boldness, uttering whatever could confirm me in the opinion I had conceived; you know what effects it hath produced since: love rendered me furions to revenge him I loved; and I have not spared your life, having first exposed mine to all manner of disgraces. You have accused me doubtless of cruelty, but you would rather have excused me, were my passion sufficiently known to you. In brief I have believed you the cruel Murderer of my beloved Alcimedon; but this day that belief hath been shaken by contrary appearances; the King of the Nomads is accused of this Fact, and I have rather believed it of him, than of such a Prince as Alcamenes, in whom I have always found too much virtue to have believed him so guilty, had not mine eyes and ears imposed a contrary opinion: Many things do persuade me that you are innocent, and the spirit of Alcimedon itself resisted this Night the resentments I had against you, and complained of the wound you received from me, yet it was from Alcimedon's own mouth that I learned his destiny, and you yourself spoke to me of Alcimedon, as of a person whose most secret thoughts you knew: My Soul is so troubled at so many contrary appearances, that I know not whereon to rely; and I should lose my judgement, but that Sosthenes makes me hope that you will draw me out of this cruel uncertainty; if you are innocent of this Crime, I will repair with the last drop of my blood, the injuries I have done you; if not, I will endeavour to satisfy Alcimedon's Ghost, by sacrificing my own life, not endeavouring any thing more against yours, which after the generous treatments which I have received from the King your Father, and yourself, I cannot attempt without ingratitude.  
Thus spoke Menalippa. And Alcamenes (who called all his courage to his assistance) lost not one of these words: But! O gods! what expressions can represent the state of his Soul, at this change of his Fortune! He apprehended at the same time, not only that he was not hated by Menalippa, not only that her great Soul was touched with pity for him, and that he now ceased to be the object of her cruel hate which had produced so many funest effects; but also, that all those violent demonstrations of her hatred against Alcamenes, were the most tender and most passionate proofs of her love to Alcimedon; in short, the wound he had received, the blood he had lost, the dangers he had run, both from the hand of Menalippa, and all those Enemies whom she had raised against him, were so many testimonies of the most violent love he could have desired his Princess' heart to be possessed with.  
Certainly (great Ladies) it will be very hard to apprehend to what extremities this knowledge carried him, and if grief had almost cast him into the Tomb, joy wanted but little of producing the same effects; he strove with it a long time, knowing he should need all his Forces to resist it; and though he could not become an entire Master, yet he obtained so much of his patience, as was necessary to advance his Fortune to the uttermost, He remained a long time unable to speak, and gave Menalippa leisure enough to interpret his silence amiss, but having dissipated part of that which impeded his Discourse: Yes, Menalippa, said he, Alcamenes hath punished the audacious Alcimedon; but Alcimedon, (too glorious to be beloved of Menalippa) hath forgiven Alcamenes those things he made him suffer; and Alcamenes cannot complain of Menalippa 's cruelty, if Menalippa still loves her Alcimedon.  
He spoke only these few words, and there needed no more to make Menalippa know the beloved voice of Alcimedon; Belisa and Leander who knew it (notwithstanding the respect of the place) cried both together: and the Princess impatient, or rather transported, drew the Curtain to view Alcamene's face, and there found, maugre its paleness, all the lineaments of Alcimedon. A while she resisted these appearances, which she could not but suspect, comparing what she saw, to what she had seen; the Prince perceived her astonishment, and taking courage from his good Fortune: Doubt not, Madam, said he, that this Alcamenes whom you have so hated, is the same Alcimedon whom you confess to have so dearly loved; and, as you never declared to the Queen your Mother the affection you bear Alcimedon, so did I never acquaint the King my Father, that Alcimedon was Alcamenes.  
Him whom you saw exspire under mine Arms, was without doubt the unfortunate Cleomenes, whose story you shall know hereafter: and if you remember the words I spoke to you in the Combat, you will judge that Alcamenes as Alcimedon, might speak them of Alcimedon: And lastly, Madam, (continued he, taking one of her fair hands, and pressing it with a thousand fiery kisses) the same Alcimedon who promised you the Crown of Scythia, is still in a condition of making you the same offer, through his Father's bounty; and if you will permit him to pass at your feet, the relics of that life which the Gods shall afford him, you will too generously repair those evils he hath suffered by you, and thereby render me as happy and glorious, as even now I supposed myself miserable.  
Alcamenes added many words to these, during which, the Princess was partly recovered from her astonishment, and possessed with so immoderate a joy, that it had likely to have proved mortal. After a strong resistance, neither modesty, nor the King's presence, could hinder her from throwing her arms about his neck; and pressing him with so much affection, that the Prince, unable to resist so dear carresses, had almost fainted in her arms: Alcimedon, said she! my dear Alcimedon! expressing by these words only, the tenderness of her heart, better than by the most eloquent she could have spoken; a River of tears (whose course she could not resist) succeeded, and opposed themselves to all the tumultuous expression she would have uttered: but having given to her joy, all that she could not refuse to Alcimedon living, she began to consider Alcimedon dangerously wounded by her own hand, and this consideration had almost carried her into her former transports of grief. How often in a moment did she ask pardon for her cruelty with a torrent of tears? how did she detest that cruel hand which gave the unhuman blow? and, how often did the transported Prince protest, that her greatest favours had never been so sweet as this precious wound, which had given him so infallible a proof of her affection for Alcimedon? I shall abuse your patience (great Princesses) if I draw this discourse to a greater length, and since there is nothing more considerable to say, I shall conclude in a few words.  
The first transports being over, the King drew near to participate in the common joy, and having joined to the pardon which he begged of Menalippa for his resentments against her, his thanks for her affection to Alcimedon, he understood by Leander and Sosthenes, all his Son's adventures, to the least particulars; and Menalippa recounted the cause of her error to proceed from Alcimedon's change of Arms with Cleomenes; and Alcamenes learned poor Cleomenes' fate, whereof till then he had been ignorant.  
The wound of Alcamenes was the only obstacle to their happiness, and it pleased the Gods that within a few days they lost their fears of him, and a little after he quitted his Bed and Chamber, recovering with his fortune his strength and courage, though with displeasure to see himself so soon cured of a wound, which he had received by a hand so dear, and upon an account so glorious.  
He was scarce cured, when the King, having obtained Menalippa's permission, sent the Princé of the Tauroscythes to the Queen Amalthea, to relate the wonderful adventures of these two Lovers, and demanded her consent to the Marriage: To which she agreed with exceeding joy, and a satisfaction much more entire, when she understood that Alcamenes, whom she had sometime so hated,, was Alcimedon, whom she so dearly loved: She sent into Scythia the flower of her Court, to assist at the ceremony of so famous an Alliance; and the Prince Barzanes, ravished with joy at the fortune of his friend, and pardoning him the refusal of his Daughter, was the chief of that proud Ambassage. At last, they arrived at Serica, where Alcacamenes excused his ingratitude to Barzanes, and received him with all the caresses and honour he could have rendered to the King his Father; and his power from the Queen of Dasia was no sooner understood; but all things were prepared for this famous Wedding, which a few days after (with all imaginal pomp and satisfaction to the two Lovers, in the enjoyment of a happiness which had been crossed by so many traverses of Fortune) was accomplished.  
Merodates (entirely cured) assisted at this famous Marriage, not testifying the least regret; and having promised to Alcamenes an eternal friendship, returned into his Kingdom, whence, as I learned since, he carried a War into Thrace; and there lost his life, having acquired a beautiful reputation by many Victories.  
It is some five or six years, since the conclusion of the Amours of Alcamenes and Menalippa; and it is certain that their love hath ever since continued in its primitive ardour; and that Alcamenes contemplating daily the admirable virtues of the Queen his Spouse, hath always considered her as a divine person.  
The King Orontes died two years after these Nuptials; and it was about the time of Alcamenes' Coronation that I arrived in Scythia, where I had the honour to be known by this great Prince, and where I took care to inform myself particularly of his memorable adventures.  
Thus finished Megacles his long relation, possessing both the Princesses with admiration, which they expressed by divers Questions, notwithstanding the pressures of their own misfortunes.  
After this converse, Megacles caused Supper to be served in, and a little after gave them the good night; both the Princesses lying together, fought to unbend their cruel inquietudes, by some moments of repose.   
The End of the Eighth Part of Cleopatra.   

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA; OR, Loves Masterpiece. Part. IX.  

LIB. I.  
ARGUMENT.  
The two Princesses Cleopatra and Artemisa, compare their Misfortunes, and compassionate and comfort one another. Artemisa, out of her Love to Alexander, and the Desire she had to be acquainted with her future Relations, entreats Cleopatra to give her an account of her Brothers and Sisters. Cleopatra relates the History of Julius Antonius, Antonia, and young Ptolemy. Julius Antonius, riding a hunting one day, is thrown by his Horse; and relieved by an unknown Lady, whom he falls passionately in love with. Lucius Scipio is in love with Emilia, the Daughter of Statilius Scaurus. Being a friend of Antonius 's, he carries him to see his Mistress, where, by a fatal chance, he meets with the unknown Lady, who proves to be Tullia, the Daughter of Cicero. She abhors Antonius, as being the Son of Anthony and Fulvia, who had put Cicero to an ignominious and cruel death. Tullia is courted by Cecinna, with the approbation of her brother Quintus Cicero, who bringing her one day to the Amphitheatre, to see the combats of certain beasts, Antonius hath another sight of her, but is much troubled at her kindness to Cecinna. She shows him a box, wherein was her own picture, which he going to return her, it slips out of his hands into the Area, where the beasts fought. Antonius, perceiving how much Tullia was troubled at it, out of an extravagance of passion, leaps down into the Area among the beasts, and takes it up: but bringing it to her, out of a confidence she would take that expression of his love with civility, if not with kindness, she, out of the horrid aversion she had for him, would not receive it: whereupon he keeps it, protesting he would never restore it to any hands but her own. Cecinna, meeting him afterwards alone, demands the box of him, which Antonius refusing to deliver him, it begat a duel, wherein Cecinna is killed. Upon which accident, as also at the request of Tullia, that he would not appear in her sight again, Antonius leaves Rome, and is never after heard of.  
THE slumber of the two fair Princesses could not be long, not only because the night was far spent before they fell asleep, but also because the importunate resentment of their misfortunes would not permit a rest of any great continuance. They had hardly opened their bright eyes to receive in the light, but they opened them withal to let out tears: and it could hardly be discerned whether came out of their mouths first, or certain broken sighs or some mournful expressions. The dawning must needs be full of affliction, that was to be delivered of a day so fatal to these two desolate Princesses: for neither could the great courage of Cleopatra, nor the resignation of Artemisa fortify them, so as to entertain with constancy, the first idea that presented itself to their imaginations, of the misery they were to expect. Artemisa, having been awake some few minutes, and bestowed her first reflections on the memory of her Alexander, turns to the Princess Cleopatra, and putting forth her arm to embrace her, she felt her give a little start, and turning from her to the other side with a certain action, wherein she observed no small disturbance; Thinking herself obliged to be as tender of the concernment of that dear Sister of hers, as of her own: she hastily asked her the reason of it; and the fair Daughter of Anthony, ushering in her answer with certain sighs, Sister, said she to her, the affliction I am in does not only disturb my reason, but it is as unmerciful to my senses; and my deluded imagination, having while I slept entertained me with the idea of Coriolanus, hath brought in to my ears, the sound of his very voice, and caused me to hear certain words, which I should be confident could proceed from no other mouth than his, were I not now satisfied, to my confusion, that it is only to my imagination, that I must attribute these deplorable effects of my affliction. Inexorable, and yet unfortunate Princess, (says that known voice) I must then be content to lose you for ever. These few words are all I heard, or, to say better, thought I heard but the sound; I have some time been so well acquainted with, hath made such an impression in my hearing, that, with all the assistance of my reason, I can hardly be persuaded, that I have not heard the very voice of Coriolanus. 'Twas with that reflection that I started as you felt, and turning to you that I looked wish'dly about me through that remainder of the impression, which my error had left in my thoughts.  
Such was the discourse of Cleopatra; and Artemisa approved her opinion: but it was not long ere she fell into another imagination which might have added very much to her affliction, had she fastened her thoughts on it: for she imagined for some minutes, that Coriolanus, killed in the combat wherein she had left him engaged; it might haply be that his spirit, wand'ring about that which he had some time dearly loved, had entertained her with those passionate words. This reflection found at first some little entertainment in her mind, and might have done abundance of mischief there, had she afforded it any long entertainment: but that being such in her, as was not capable of ordinary weakness, that extravagance was soon dispelled by the light of her reason and communicated to Artemisa, who gave it more credit than she had done. For the Armenian Princess was easily drawn in, to think the opinion very probable, and soon persuaded, that if it were true, that Cleopatra had heard certain words pronounced by a voice, like that of Coriolanus, 'twas, questionless, the spirit of that unfortunate Prince, dead in the combat, wherein they had left him with little assurance of his safety, that spoke them to the Princess he had so dearly loved while he lived, and whom haply he still loved, even after his death. From the opinion she had conceived of the death of Coriolanus, she derived all the affliction her virtue could give her for a Prince, whose extraordinary endowment deserved a better fate; and the friendship she had for Cleopatra, for a man, who (how angry soever she might seem to be, and how highly soever she might disguise her sentiments) was much dearer to her, than her life. Certain it is, that what sense soever she might have of her own misfortunes, it abated nothing of what she conceived for so great a loss, so that to the tears she shed for her own unhappiness, she added some for the death of Juba's son. But when, reflecting on her fortune, she passed from one consideration to another, and was satisfied that she might mind her own interest with those of others, without any breach either of friendship or generosity, she thought, that, if Coriolanus were, for certain, dead, (an accident she neither could nor would conceive, without an extraordinary affliction) it might occasion no inconsiderable alteration in Cleopatra's condition and her own, and that, it being not impossible, Cleopatra's inclinations might change, when the object of her affections were in the grave, if she could consider the love of the King her Brother, with other eyes than she had done before, and be persuaded by time and necessity to marry him, that Prince, how exasperated soever he might be against Artemisa and Alexander, would not only pardon them for Cleopatra's sake, but would, no doubt, confirm their marriage, and suffer them to enjoy in quiet what they had sought with so much trouble and danger. To this happiness would be added also that of having Cleopatra, for whom she had a passionate affection, her Sister two several ways, insomuch, that this reflection flattered her into a hope that was not unpleasant. True it is, that she could not raise it to that height, as to reflect on the death of Coriolanus without grief, but rather that she was content to seek out some comfort in her misfortunes, without entrenching so much as to the least wish, upon what she ought the virtue and friendship of Cleopatra. Yet durst she not communicate this reflection to the desolate daughter of Anthony, conceiving, not without reason, that such a Discourse would not be delightful to her: but she felt her resolution growing stronger and stronger by that glimpse of hope, and betrayed in her countenance, more settledness and less sorrow, than she had done the day, nay indeed, for some minutes, before.  
This little alteration happened in her thoughts, at the same time that those of Cleopatra met with such another; for that fair Princess, out of motives quite contrary to those of Artemisa, had just then fastened on resolutions, worthy the Cleopatra's. She had hardly well fixed on them, but, not able to disguise them either by her countenance or her discourse, she embraced Artemisa, with a gesture less sad than all the precedent; and letting her read in her eyes part of what passed in her soul, Sister, said she to her, Let us not weep any longer, but rather hope, from the assistance of the Gods and our own Courage, the remedy of our misfortunes; it may be our unhappiness will not be so great us we were afraid it may; and if our hard fates reserve us for what we fear as most insupportable, we shall not want the assistance of our virtue, either to overcome, or to entertain it as we ought. For your part, Sister, I hope it will be no hard matter to pacify the King your Brother; and I think it not impossible, you and Alexander may come together: and for me, I can easily contemn whatever may happen to me, when I do life itself. Ever since the cruel confidence I have had of the infidelity of Coriolanus, I value it so little that I should not be much troubled to lose it, when ever it shall please my ill fortune to put me into any such exigency; and if the King your Brother violates the respect due to me, or do any thing that shall make my captivity insufferable to me; I shall free myself by the same courses the Queen my mother took to avoid it; and I have that example so much before my eyes that I were unworthy the name I bear, should I seek for assistance any where else while I have that of my own courage. This resolution once taken, I no longer fear the King of Armenia, and since I hope no more of Coriolanus whether dead or unfaithful, I look on whatever may happen to me, in a manner with indifference, and shall entertain it haply with a constancy whereof the very example may add much to yours.  
No doubt but Artemisa found some comfort in this discourse of Cleopatra, not that she approved that hope, which the daughter of Anthony grounded only on a contempt of life, but was glad to see her in a quieter posture than she had been in before: and though she had not the confidence to discover to her the reflection that had found her the entertainment of some few minutes, yet was she of a belief that time might so dispose of her as to endure such a discourse, and that in the mean time she might admit a conversation less afflictive than that wherein they had already passed away so many cruel hours. Accordingly, no sooner were these two Princesses resolved to submit to what the uncertainty of fortune might cast upon them, but they seemed to be quite changed from what they were; the current of their tears was dried up, and by degrees they passed to some discourse different from that of their present misfortune. Yet could not Artemisa give over disputing in favour of Coriolanus, and would maintain against Cleopatra, that after the last expressions he had given her of his affection, in his forsaking of his kingdom, the trouble it was to wander up and down the earth to find her out, and the late combat he was engaged in before their eyes, against those that would have ravished them, she could not be persuaded he was unfaithful to her. Cleopatra, who would gladly have been induced to believe Coriolanus innocent, opposed what she said with the reasons before alleged, yet so as that through her arguments, might be perceived part of what Artemisa represented in his favour. But at last this discourse of a person, of whose life there was much uncertainty, adding to her grief, she would needs change it, and put Artemisa upon some other.  
The love which that Princess had for Alexander, made her desirous to know, and willing to hearken to any thing that related to his family, as if she had some concernment therein; and that consisting of divers illustrious persons of both sexes, Artemisa, who had seen only Alexander, and Cleopatra, and young Ptolomey while yet a child, had the curiosity to desire some account of the Sisters and Brothers of her beloved Prince. She had not the time to understand the particularities of their lives and fortunes, (for what she had heard from Alexander, related to the time while they were yet very young, and not what happened to them since his departure from Rome:) but though she would gladly have been informed of all, yet had she a more particular inclination for the Princes Antonia, whom Cleopatra had mentioned very much to her advantage in her own History, and young Ptolomey, of whom she had heard such beginnings, as gave many occasion to conceive very great hopes of him. Cleopatra satisfied her as to all she desired; but afterwards observing, her design was to have a more particular knowledge of them, and thinking it cruelty not to comply with the affection she expressed towards her house: Sister, said she to her, I perceive you are not satisfied with the account I have given you of our house, and if we were in some other place, I had already entertained you with the discourse, you would put me upon, of the fortunes of our nearest relations: but, Sister, the likelihood I am in to engage in a long relation much disconsonant to our present condition, and such as would require such a freedom of spirit as I now have not as to narration, nor you to attention, deters me.  
Ah Sister, says Artemisa, for my part, what misfortune soever I am persecuted with, I cannot want the attention I ought to have for the fortunes of our Brethren; and if you can as well without inconvenience give me a particular account of their lives and affairs, as I should hear it without passion, you would make no difficulty to undertake a relation, that may prove the greatest case to my afflictions, that haply they are capable of. Not, Sister, that I dare, without blushing, put you to that trouble, and if you think it fit that Camilla, or any other of your Women, who haply can satisfy me as to what I would know, supply your place, I should make less difficulty to abuse her patience than yours, and should nevertheless receive the satisfaction I desire. Sister, replies Cleopatra, no doubt but Camilia is able to acquaint you with part of what you desire, and would entertain you with adventures, such as must needs be known to the persons that were about us: but she cannot possibly give you an account of some particularities, that haply went no farther than my knowledge, since it was to me more than any one else, that the persons now to be spoken of, communicated their most secret sentiments, and that it was in a manner in my presence, that the greatest part of the things happened. The relation will haply be somewhat long, (though it may not contain any great variety of adventures, and that in all likelihood I shall not be able to leave off when I would) but since I made a shift yesterday to continue that which I had begun, of the History of my own misfortunes, I hope I shall be as able to go through with this, and I shall endeavour all that lies in my power not to omit any thing that may any way satisfy your curiosity. Whereupon Cleopatra, preparing herself for the narration, the two Princesses thought it their best course to lie still a-bed, because it was very betimes in the morning, and bid those that waited on them, to prevent, as much as they could, any from coming to disturb them. Camilia took that charge upon her, and so, not long after, the fair Cleopatra having bestowed some few minutes to recall into her memory the things she had to say, began her discourse in these terms.  

THE HISTORY OF JULIUS ANTONIUS, ANTONIA and PTOLOMEY.  
BEfore I give you the account you desire of the adventures of Ptolomey and Antonia, it will not be amiss, Sister, to make mention of an Elder Brother we have had, & whom haply we have yet, though I said little of him in myown History, in regard it is so long time since we have either seen or heard of him, that we have acted hitherto as if there were no such person in the World. His beginning discovered him not to be unworthy the blood of Anthony, and all things in him were great enough to rescue him from the oblivion of his nearest relations. But before I acquaint you with the first beginnings of his life, and the strange accident whereby we lost him, I shall tell you what condition the unfortunate Anthony left his family in when he died, though I doubt not but you have heard something of it from Alexander. I am easily persuaded, Sister, you are not to learn how that Anthony left seven children by three wives, by Fulvia, who was the first Antillus, and Julius Antonius, by Octavia, Caesar's Sister, the two Princesses, Agrippina and Antonia; and by Queen Cleopatra, Alexander, Ptolomey, and myself. For the two daughters by Octavia, and for us, the issue of Cleopatra, we all had our education together, in the house of that Virtuous Princess, with all the civilities and kindnesses that could be expected from a most affectionate mother; and as to the two children of Fulvia, Antillus was killed not long after the death of our Father, by Caesar's Soldiers, (his fate having proved not unlike that of our Brother Caesarion, whose first eruptions, and the great inclinations he discovered, raised some jealousy of him in Augustus, who for that reason took away his life) and Julius Antonius was provided for as we were by the indulgent Octavia: and not long after possessed of the house of Fulvia, and all the estate belonging thereto, with an addition of somewhat out of Anthony's. To be short, his condition was such, that he needed not envy the fortunes of any Roman whatsoever, and though he had not those Kingdoms at his disposal, which had been at his Father's, yet did he keep up our house in the greatest lustre it ever was in before the death of Julius Caesar, and before Anthony and Augustus made themselves Masters of the Empire. He was elder than Alexander and myself by seven or eight years, insomuch, that within a short time after our misfortune, and while we were yet brought up as children by Octavia, he was numbered among the young Princes that pretended to employments and opportunities of acquiring fame. He was certainly born to all the noblest and greatest endowments, and though he were not so fair as Alexander, yet had he a high and majestic look, was of a proper stature, and wanted not any of those advantages, either of body or mind, which could rationally be wished in him. With this, his inclinations were absolutely noble; he was wholly disposed to the acquisitions of virtue, and an earnest suitor to those opportunities which lead a man to glory. We cannot indeed complain, but that he expressed as great affection towards us, as we could expect from a Brother, and him a virtuous one: but in regard we were of several ventures, lived in several houses, nay, that ours was in some sort divided between him and us, and that even among the kindred of Fulvia, there was no small aversion for the name of Cleopatra; certain it is, that our familiarity was so much the less with him, and that he concerned himself less in our Affairs, than if our family had not been disunited: which is the reason that you have had so little mention made of him in the first beginnings of the life of Alexander and mine. Whence yet I would not have it thought, as I told you, that we can reproach Julius Antonius with any backwardness to do all the civilities and good offices we could expect from his friendship; but that when any great emergencies intervened, he was no longer among us; and it is upon that account that I have been destitute of his assistances in all those occasions which the love of Coriolanus hath furnished me with, to make use of them, and of which I have already made you a relation.  
You have, I question not, understood, from Alexander, as also from me, all the particularities of our youngery ears; but to give you an account of Julius Antonius, I am to tell you, that after he had attained perfection in all those exercises, that are proper to persons of his birth, he was no sooner arrived to an age fit to bear arms, but he sought out the wars with much earnestness, and engaging himself in the armies of Dalmatia, Pannonia, as also that which Marcus Crassus conducted against the Basternes, and having gone through all employments and charges suitable to his age, with all the good success imaginable, he acquired a noble same, and gave the World ground to conceive as glorious hopes of him as of any other whatsoever. Being, after several years spent in travel, returned to Rome, he settled there, and was honoured by all, nay wanted not from Caesar himself more than ordinary expressions of esteem and affection. He was at first established at the Court among persons of the highest rank, so far, that only Marcellus, and the children of Livia, particularly favoured by Caesar, seemed, by reason of the advantage of their fortune, to aim at higher pretences. His expense was noble and magnificent, his disposition inclined to do civilities and to oblige, and his whole deportment such as all the World approved, and were satisfied with. Accordingly, he soon got him a great number of friends, and, those only excepted, whom the divisions of Rome, and the distractions of the Triumvirate had made irreconcilable enemies to our house, there were very few of the Roman Nobility, who had not a particular esteem for him, and courted not his friendship. When he went to Augustus' Palace, he was attended by a gallant retinue of young Gentlemen. In all public shows, and all Assemblies that met either at the Empresses, or at the young Princess Julia's, he always had the general acclamations: and it was already the ordinary talk in Rome, that, if Fortune were any thing favourable to him, he would raise the house of Anthony to the height of lustre it had been in some few years before. But it was not the pleasure of the gods, he should continue long in that condition, and the quiet that he himself lost after a very strange manner, proved the occasion of our losing of him to our no small grief. Now, Sister, shall you hear something which you will haply be astonished at, as to the parallel you will find there is between the fate of Alexander and that of Antonius; whence you will haply imagine, that fortune treating them as Brothers, would needs have some conformity between their adventures.  
Among those exercises of the body he was most addicted to, Antonius was the greatest lover of hunting, and used it very often. To that end being gone adays journey from Rome on the Tusculum▪ side, where the Country is very pleasant, and very fit for that kind of divertisement, he passed away certain days there, with abundance of satisfaction. The last of those he intended to bestow on that exercise, being, as he was hunting a Stag, forced to cross certain woods in the pursuit, he came into a very pleasant valley, where putting-on his Horse very negligently down a little descent, and along the slippery grass, he stumbled, but so of a sudden, that he could not get his feet out of the stirrups, nor prevent the horse falling upon him so violently, that having knocked his head against the root of a tree, he was not only senseless for the time, but received also a very considerable wound. A further misfortune was, that none of his fellow-huntsmen being mounted comparably to him, or having taken other ways, there was not any one of his people near him, to afford him any assistance in that condition, so that he lay grovelling on the ground, senseless, losing blood; and being much in need of help, when certain persons that passed by in a Chariot, in a way not far off, drew nearer, and came out of the Chariot to relieve him. They were in number three, and they women, without any man with them, but he that drove the Chariot, and certain slaves that followed it. She of the women that seemed to be of the greatest quality, perceiving my Brother to be in the sad condition I told you of, was extremely troubled for him. and concluding otherwise by his countenance, and the sumptuousness of his clothes, (though he had only a riding suit on) that he was of no mean condition, she seemed very much inclined to do him all the good she could. She first looked on the wound in his head, which she found not to be very dangerous, yet did she not think it amiss to put some linen to it, which she tore off the clothes of her maids.  
While she was thus employed, Antonius, whose greatest hurt proceeded from the sense-lesseness he had been in, comes to himself, and opening his eyes, saw that he was under the hands of those fair and officious Surgeonnesses. He was not a little astonished at the adventure, and though he were in some doubt of the truth, nay, remembered that he had seen the Chariot as he came into the Valley, yet could he neither forbear being surprised at the first, nor afterwards divert the amazement with the sight of so beautiful a person, as she that stood by him, put him into. He cast his eyes upon her, yet without speaking, and viewed her all over several times, in such a manner, as easily betrayed his admiration. He had indeed some reason to look on her with a particular attention, for there was both in her countenance and her person, what might very well fasten the eye, and fetter the imagination. Her stature was of the noblest, and her deportment discovered a certain grace that was wholly particular. All the features of her face were regularly well drawn, her mouth extremely handsome, her hair of the fairest flaxen that could be, and her eyes were animated by something so sparkling, and withal so passionate, that, among the greatest Beauties the earth affords, there is not haply any one so fit to produce a sudden effect, and to imprint something of passion in a soul capable thereof. In fine, whether she were truly such, or that the inclinations of Antonius represented her as as such, she seemed to him a very Admirable Person, and he looked on her a long time with a certain astonishment, without so much as being able to open his mouth to acknowledge the good office she had done him. But at last he absolutely recovers himself as well of his surprise, as the senselessenesse occasioned by his fall, and conceiving himself to be in a very undecent posture, before a person he thought worthy all possible respects, he would needs rise up, but he could not do it without some difficulty, as having his leg a little crushed by the horse that had fallen upon it; insomuch, that when he was got up, being not well able to stand, he was forced to lean against a tree, where, minding not so much the pain he felt, as the noble adventure he had met with, he at last broke forth, and looking on that fair Lady, with an action that already spoke something that argued abundance of passion, I know not, said he to her, fair, or rather, divine, Lady, what acknowledgements I ought to return your Goodness, for words will be but weak expressions thereof, if you do me not an absolute favour, by affording me some occasion to return you part of what I owe you. The assistance you have received from me, replies that excellent person, with such an accent as discovered something full of charm, is no more than what we are obliged to do to all those that stand so much in need thereof as you did, and particularly to those, who, as you, carry about them what distinguishes them from the ordinary rate of men. Your present condition is not, as far as I can judge, very good, and therefore if you please to make use of my Chariot, I will bring you to a place, where you may receive the helps you stand in need of, better than you can here; These words came from her (as Antonius hath related since) with so much kindness, insinuation and majesty, that he was infinitely taken with it, and felt at that instant, the sudden quickening of a passion, which till then could never get entrance into his soul; insomuch that he began to consider her again with a gesture that expressed part of what he felt, and thinking it a dishonour not to return some answer to so obliging a Proffer. I have not been able, said he to her, to resist the effects of your goodness, nor prevent your hands from taking the pains they have, because I was in a condition that allowed me not the knowledge of your favours; but how precious soever I ought to account them, I shall not presume so far upon you as to abuse them, but be content to preserve, till death deprive me of it, the glorious remembrance of those I have received, without desiring any other of you, which, being trouble some to you, might too much betray my incivility.  
Thus did he endeavour to put off the civility of the Unknown Lady, wherewith yet he was at last willing to comply, out of the violent inclination he had to follow her: but just upon this comes in some of his people, and seeming to be not a little frighted at that adventure, they came about their Master, viewing him all over with much earnestness, and holding him up under the arms to help him to walk. Antonius began to feel within him a wound, which took up his thoughts more than the hurt of his body, and so was desirous, with assistance of his men, to get near that fair Lady, who was gone some few paces from him: but at the same time one of her Maids, having before spoken to one of Antonius his men, comes to her, and whispers something in her ear. She had no sooner heard what she said, but her colour changed. She seemed to be extremely at a loss; insomuch, that turning her back on the Prince, after she had called her slaves to her, she went to her Chariot, got into it, commanded it should be made fast, and to make all haste thence. Antonius, more surprised at this accident than he had been at the former, it raised in him a certain vexation and astonishment, so that being still between his people, he lift up his voice, the better to be heard by that fair Lady: How, Madam, said he to her, do you forsake me ere you afford me the time to return you my thanks? I forgive them you, replied she a little smartly, and you stand no longer in need of my assistance. The Prince was not able to master himself in the agitations, which so unexpected a separation caused in him, insomuch, that his impatience was such that he spoke then what he would not haply have the confidence to speak in a long time, had he been in another condition, Ah Madam, cried he, the pain I endure, is much very greater than you imagine, and the wound you have seen is very slight in comparison of that which you have given me, Alas, continued he, seeing her departing, and following her with his eyes, while she made all the hast she could away, must I lose you so suddenly, and with so much cruelty, without knowing either the cause of your departure, or my unhappiness? What have I done? What have I attempted? Or what have I so much as thought, that should in a moment work a change in those officious inclinations? Have you perceived in my heart the creation of your own eyes there? Or have you discovered therein any thing so injurious to yourself, as to arm, in an instant, with so much disdain, a mind wherein I had found so much goodness, and so much humanity? These words he scattered into the air, while the Chariot drove on with all speed, till that, not long after getting into a Wood, he quite lost the sight of it.  
Antonius, over-pressed with affliction, sat him down on the grass, whereupon reflecting on his adventure, he found so much matter to grieve at, that it was with much ado that he admitted any the least mitigation thereof. He was ignorant what motive could induce a person so officious, and one that had made proffers to him so full of obligation, after she had assisted him with her own hands, to exchange so much indulgence into so much disdain; nay, he was to seek who that fair, good-natured, and scornful person was, from whom he had received so much good, and so much hurt; and what completed his affliction, was, that he could not inform himself from any of his own people, who ingeniously confessed they had not the curiosity to inquire, though one of her Maids had come to them and learned his name, which it seems they made no difficulty to tell her. Antonius' blamed them a hundred times for their stupidity, though they alleged by way of excuse, that the disturbance which his fall had put them into, so took up their thoughts, that they could reflect on nothing else. Being therefore desirous to do all that lay in his power to learn out the name of a person, whose idea was but too well engraven in his heart, he commanded one of his men to get on horseback immediately, and ride after the tracks of the Chariot, and without fail to find out some means or other to know the truth, and to come and give him an account of it at a house of Servilius', which he named to him, that lay about two hours riding from that place, and upon the way to Rome. Having given him this order, he, with the assistance of those that were about him, got on horseback, and though it was with some difficulty that he sat, yet he made a shift to ride on easily towards Cervilius' house.  
It were a hard task for me to represent to you the different reflections that exercised his thoughts all the way he road; but certain it is, as he hath himself acknowledged since, that though he felt no small pain in his body, yet he never so much as minded it; and that he had so deeply graven in his heart the idea of a person, one while kind and obliging, and another, cruel and disdainful, and yet both in her mildness, and in her scorn ever fair, and ever full of charm, that he was not one minute without it. What a fantastic adventure is this of mine? said he. And what arms does Fortune intend to take up against me? Ought I to see that accomplished person in a condition, wherein her good offices had begun, what her fair eyes have completed? or Could my soul, prevented by the obligation, be insensible as to beauty? But when I had seen her, when I was obliged to her for her assistance, when her beauty had inflamed me with love, must I lose her after so strange a manner, contrary to all probability, contrary to all rational order? and, what I think yet much more insupportable, see her depart disdainful, incensed and exasperated, from a place, where some few minutes before she had appeared with so much goodness? By what action have I incurred her displeasure? or what could she discover in my person, which should oblige her, so of a sudden, to exchange her first sentiments, for such as were absolutely opposite thereto? Or is it possible she may have truly read in my eyes the love which I already feel for her? or could she look on that unexpected influence of her beauty, as an injury worthy her indignation, and this deportment of hers towards me?  
Having thus for some time spent his thoughts on that part of his adventure, and passing to the other; But is it possible, added he, I should commend, or be dissatisfyed with anyone, and not know whom I either commend, or am dissatisfied with? and shall I be long ignorant whom I ought to return my thanks to, for the assistance I have received, or whom I ought to complain of, for the wound hath been given me? For, in fine, I feel, and that not without some confusion, that I am really in love. 'tis from the blood of Mark-Anthony, who lived and died the most amorous of mankind, that I derive these amorous inclinations: for had I not been born of him, the charms of that Unknown Beauty had not produced so unexpected an effect.  
Amidst these reflections he comes to the house of Servilius, who chanced at that time to be there himself, and who having understood the accident had happened to him, caused him to be put into a bed, and to be attended with as much care and affection as might be. The hurt he had gotten by his fall was not so considerable, insomuch, that before he lest Servilius' house, which was about two or three days after, he had very well recovered himself: but that which troubled him most, was, that he could not learn any thing of what he desired from the person he had sent after the Chariot, who had brought him no other account, than that having lost the tract of it in the sand, he had never been able to recover it again; and that, notwithstanding all the enquiry he had made up and down the Villages thereabouts, yet could he not meet with any tidings of it. So that my Brother, being still as ignorant as he had been before, after he had described the place as well as he could to Servilius, and given him all the marks whereby he might possibly know it, could not meet with any satisfaction at all, though Servilius, the more to humour him, had sent for several other persons, and had very diligently enquired of all the Ladies that might have any habitation near the place where the accident had happened.  
Antonius having taken a great deal of pains in this business to no purpose, returns to Rome with as much melancholy, and haply with as much love as ever man could be capable of. He dissembled the cause of his affliction, as thinking it not fit to discover it, but to some few persons, that were his very intimate friends, who were not a little astonished at the adventure, and assisted him what lay in their power, to find out the name of the person, whose image he had so deeply imprinted in his heart. Agrippa, to whom he had made a relation of this story, and who was his very particular friend, had some discourse with him of it, when ever they met together, and assisted him what he could, (though as ineffectually as others) in the inquisition he was so much bend upon. His melancholy was remarkable, and obvious to all the World: insomuch that those who knew him to be naturally of a cheerful disposition, could not conceive upon what grounds his humour was so changed of a sudden. It being about six or seven years since what I relate to you happened, Alexander and I were too young to be admitted of his Privy Council, so that it is since that I came to the knowledge of these particularities.  
In the mean time Antonius, as to point of magnificence, lived much after the rate he was wont to do. He went daily to the Emperor's Court, who had a very great esteem and affection for him; and whereas the generous Octavia, his Sister, with whom we were (notwithstanding the ill treatment she might have received from our Father,) had nevertheless very great respects for his memory, she was as earnest for the advancement of those children that he had by his other Wives, as she could have been for that of herown, and that merely out of the excess of virtue that was in her. Thence was it that she had a design to marry Antonius to one of the Daughters she had had by Marcellus her former Husband, and who were brought up with us, without any distinction, as if we had been really Sisters: as conceiving that she could not better dispose of her Daughters than to bestow them on the Sons of her Husband, or rather, that she could not do any thing more contributory to the advantage of the Son of Anthony than, by making him her Son in law, to make him Caesar's Nephew, who was able to raise his fortunes to the highest pitch of greatness. It was indeed an admirable expression of the indulgence of Octavia, in regard that by way of addition to the merit of their person, which yet is extraordinary, her Daughters, whether we consider their birth or their fortunes, were such as there were no men in the World, who would not have been proud to serve them, upon the least appearance of any such pretention; nay, it might haply be affirmed, that, Julia only excepted, they were the best Matches in the World.  
You may well imagine that Antonius being acquainted with that goodness of Octavia towards him, entertained it with all manner of acknowledgement and respect; but by reason of the misfortune whereby he was a little disordered, he received it not with any great joy, but found it no small difficulty to disguise his resentments as he was obliged to do. His love was not haply raised to that violence which it might have arrived to, by a further knowledge of the person beloved; yet was it strong enough to maintain the Garrison of his soul against the assaults and eruptions of another passion, and to satisfy him, though not without an extraordinary affliction, that, of necessity, he must either prove ungrateful towards Octavia, or oppose the advantages were intended him, or resolve to do a thing, which, how advantageous soever it were, could not appear to be such, nay, not indeed supportable to his prepossessed imagination. But it being withal certain, that he was a person of very great endowments, and a noble education, he neglected not to do what he thought requisite, to express his acknowledgements to Augustus' Sister, and forced his inclinations so far, as to do all those devoirs and civilities, which he thought might be expected from him by the Princess Marcelia, (so was called the elder of the Daughters of Octavia by Marcellus her former Husband.) T was indeed with abundance of prudence and discretion, that he overcame the violence he did himself in that particular; but it was withal easy to observe, that he made it not his business to assure himself of that good fortune so much as in all appearance he should have done; or rather that he suffered those that were employed about it, to bestir themselves, he doing little or nothing contributory thereto. Those who made this observation were very much astonished at the dis-activity he expressed in an affair of such concernment to him, and instead of imagining the true cause, were persuaded that his indifference or backwardness proceeded from the little inclination he naturally had to marriage in general, against which he had been often heard to speak, and for which it was known he really had some aversion.  
But when he had done all he thought himself obliged to by way of sacrifice to that violence he had done his inclinations, and had some hours freely to dispose of, his discourse ran upon misfortune, and his entertainment was of a strange posture of his spirit, and the odd effects of his adventure. He did indeed endeavour all he could, to force out of his thoughts the inevitable Idea which would have a place there, whether he would or no, and was so prejudicial to his quiet and his establishment. Nay I know he did all that lay in his power, to get it thence; and it may be his endeavours had, with the assistance of time and his reason, proved effectual, if he had not afterwards met with something, that instead of contributing to his recovery, confirmed him in his passion.  
Among those friends whom he accounted his most intimate and familiar, Lucius Scipio, of the illustrious house of the famous Scipio's, whose glory hath filled the universe, was the chiefest. He was a person not unworthy the name he bore, as being one, that while he was yet very young, the hope generally conceived of him, was, that he would not degenerate from his Ancestors. He had a violent passion for Emilia, the Daughter of Statilius Scaurus, and being very free and open to Antonius, he had given him a faithful account of the progress of his love, and had carried him along with him to Emilia. But this affection of his being of no long standing; Antonius' acquaintance at that house was not very great, besides that it was haply the less, by reason it had been contrary to our Father's party; nay I think he had accompanied Scipio but once thither. It is seituated upon the Tiber, and the Garden, which is one of the fairest about Rome, reaching down to the Riverside, which is kept off by a Terrace with Pilasters, very magnificent, and very commodious for walking. It being the fairest season of the year, Emilia came down thither ever night to take the fresh-air, and Scipio, out of a certain piece of gallantry, very ordinary in Rome, taking a little boat, and driving along the River to Scaurus' Garden, had often seen Emilia upon the Terrace, and, without quitting the boat, had had in that manner several conversations with her. And whereas the design he had upon the Lady, was approved by his friends, no body took any offence at, or censured his so doing; for since the house was always open to him, the conversation of the Garden was not forbidden him  
But meeting one evening with Autonius at Octavia's, he invited him to that divertisement, and that he did the more freely, in regard he did not conceal any thing from him of his amorous adventures. The melancholy Antonius was content to accompany his friend to that walk, and being gotten into the boat with him, they went down the River towards Emilia's Garden. Antonius, out of a confidence not inferior to that of Scipio towards him, had discovered his mind to him, and had fully acquainted him with that fatal adventure, whereby he came to fall in love with that Unknown Beauty, and which had changed his natural cheerfulness into so much cloudynesse and melancholy Scipio had taken abundance of pains to get him the acquaintance of that Excellent Person, but his endeavours had proved as fruitless as those of other people: now this consideration being the ordinary employment of Antonius' thoughts, it proved also the subject of his discourse with Scipio in the boat, and they talked of the consequences of that accident, till they came, in sight of the place where Emilia was wont to walk. It being as fair and pleasant an evening as could be wished, Emilia failed not to be walking upon the Terrace; where Scipio and Antonius had no sooner discovered her, but they could perceive another Lady walking with her. The Waves of the Tiber did continually wash the wall of the Terrace, so that Scipio could cause the boat to be brought as near it as he pleased, and the Terrace being of no great height, he could discourse with Emilia, and not speak any louder than ordinary, and discern all objects with ease, at a certain distance, which was not very great As they drew near, Scipio, who knew not the Lady that was with Emilia, would have asked Antonius, whether he had any acquaintance with her: and Antonius, whose thoughts were otherwise taken up, and had not so much as looked towards her, thought to have a fuller sight of her when the boat was come so near as that he might easily discern her. But, at the same instant, she, not desirous it seems to be known, le's fall her vail over her face, and deprived them of the sight of it; yet not so suddenly, but that the prepossessed Antonius could perceive some few rays of the same Beauty which he had so well engraven in his memory. This confused and imperfect glimpse put him into such a disturbance, that he was no further concerned in the first interview between Scipio and Emilia, than a submissive salute to Emilia and her Companion amounted to, on the latter whereof his eyes were so much the more fastened, out of that suspicion that raised no small tempest in his heart. At last he dispersed that cloud which he thought his mind overspread with so unseasonably, and with so little ground, and engaging himself in the conversation that was between Emilia and her Friend, he confirmed her by his discourse, in the good opinion she had conceived of him. Emilia's Companion seemed not at all concerned in their discourse, though she were still in place, and it being her design not to discover herself, she accordingly was resolved not to speak at all. But Scipio having a particular curiosity to be acquainted with his Mistresses' Friends of her own Sex, addressing his speech to her: Since you are a Friend of Emilia's, said he to her, can you have so much cruelty as to conceal yourself any longer from those persons, who of all the World, have the greatest honour that may be for whatever is dear to Emilia? The Lady, who thought herself obliged not to be altogether wanting in point of civility towards a person of so much worth as Scipio, especially one she knew to be much in the affections of her friend; or rather out of an imagination, that the accent of her voice would not be discovered by a person, with whom she had not exchanged above three or four words in her life, would needs put herself to the hazard of making him some answer. Seeing him therefore in a great expectation of it; Though I am a friend of Emilia's, said she to him, yet am I not any of those you have seen about her before, and, for my face, it is so little known in Rome, that you would be never the more satisfied, though you had your full sight of it.  
Those few words were all they could get from her, but there needed no more to discover her to my Brother, and the accent of that voice came so full into his memory, that at the first syllable she uttered, he knew her again as perfectly as if he had spent his whole life with her, and to the knowledge of her voice, adding the great trouble she was in to conceal herself, and the little glimpse he had had of her face when she covered, he was absolutely satisfied she was the same person, that, in so few minutes, had raised such a combustion in his soul. Whence it came that he was at such a loss at the rencontre, that he continued in suspense for some minutes, between astonishment and joy; but at last not able to master his first resentments, which absolutely betrayed him to the mercy of his passion, and crying out with an action full of transportation; Ah Madam, said he to her, though you are unknown to Scipio, you are not to Antonius, and the fatal assistance you once afforded him, hath left an impression of you too deeply graven in his heart ever to mistake you; however you may be pleased to conceal yourself from him. 'tis you that a grateful inclination and a soul overflown with the tenderest passion seeks every where; and it is you alone for whose sake I contemn all the Roman Beauties, nay, whatever the earth affords besides.  
He had said more, his passion it seems suggesting such words as he could not forbear uttering, when that cruel Beauty desirous to avoid all further discourse with him, whispered something to Emilia, and taking her by the arm, drew her along with her, hardly affording her the leisure of a few words to excuse herself to Antonius and Scipio; so that she was forced to leave them, to conduct her friend, who pretended to be indisposed. If Antonius was surprised at this unexpected meeting with his Unknown Mistress, he was no less at her hasty departure; and if the one had raised a certain joy in him, the other caused in him an equal affliction, as being not able, without an excessive grief, to imagine that that very person, to whose service he had devoted himself with so violent a passion, should have conceived, for him, an a version as great as the love he had for her. He would have run after her, had it been in a place where he might have done it, but that satisfaction being not allowed him, he pursued her with his eyes as long as he could, and being in the boat he held his arms across, the ordinary posture of a man in a confusion; or, to say better, at an absolute loss. O ye gods, cried he at last, after he had continued some time in that condition, what fortune do you intent me, and with what new kind of misfortune is Heaven resolved to persecute me! This he seconded with a many other exclamations, which it were hard for me, and withal to no purpose, to repeat to you: but at last having fixed on some resolution, he turned to his friend, who was in a manner as much astonished at this adventure as himself, and looking on him with an action absolutely passionate; Dear Friend: said he to him, you are sensible of my present condition, and, I doubt not, are much at a loss to see the strangeness of my fate. ay, by an unexpected accident, light upon what I seek I know not where, and what I love, though it be unknown to me, and from this rencontre I derive no other knowledge then that of my own inevitable misfortune, since I cannot but apprehend, to my confusion, that I am no less hated than I am myself amorous, and that this cruel Unknown Beauty abhors me so far, that to avoid me, she forgets all Courtship and ordinary civility: It must needs, that Nature hath put something that is odious in my person, that should cause so sudden and so strange an antipathy between us, since I am confident it cannot proceed from any of my actions.  
Hereupon he sat still for some minutes, while Scipio, no less surprised than he, could not find any thing to say to him upon that adventure: so that reassuming the discourse: If you have any affection or respects for me, said he to him, as I ought not to question but you have, you may do me a good office which I should gladly return you in such an emergency. My cruel unknown Mistress is now at Emilia 's, she may not haply stay there an hour; and if I let slip this opportunity of knowing her, I shall not haply recover it while I live again, it being not to be doubted but that, when she leaves Emilia, she will oblige her to conceal from me what she would have me ignorant of. When Emilia left us to follow her, she forbade us not to come to her house, and consequently without any fear of displeasing her, you may bring me to that part of the house where she lodges, where you have free admittance, and where we shall find her yet, provided we afford her not the time to be gone: so I shall see her through your means, I shall take acquaintance with her if I can, and shall endeavour to learn the cause of this violent aversion. As you respect the gods, Friend, deny me not this assistance, which you may not haply have the opportunity to afford me while you live again, in an exigency wherein my quiet is so much concerned.  
He would have added other entreaties, when Scipio, who had abundance of affection for him, not suffering him to proceed: There is no necessity, said he to him, to use so much solicitation to work out a quiet which is as dear to me as my own, let us go to Emilia 's, since you desire it; and let us hope, that, in case she take any displeasure at this action, she may pardon it out of a consideration of our friendship. Having taken this resolution, they caused the boat to put off, and being brought as near as they could come to the street, wherein was the great gate of Scaurus' house, they went about, and soon got thither. Scipio being much acquainted in the house, went strait to that part where Emilia had her lodgings, where those of the house were wont to see him almost every day; and, as fortune would have it, they were no sooner come into her Chamber, but they presently perceived Emilia and her Companion; who, standing near a window, with their backs turned to it, were fallen, as they inferred from their gesture, into a very serious discourse. Antonius immediately knew the beloved countenance of the cruel one that so much avoided him, and the fresh flames, which at that moment found a passage quite into his heart, heightened the fatal fire that was already kindled in his soul. He went towards her very amazedly; but she immediately perceiving it, to avoid him, as one would do, whom they think most abominable, hastily leaves Emilia, and runs in a closet, that lay hard by whereof the door was open. It happened, that either by accident, or by reason of the fright she was put into, she forgot to shut it, so that Antonius, whom the sudden transport of his passion had deprived of part of his discretion, and smothered the respect he ought Emilia, followed her into the closet, and seeing her sit on a chair, runs to her with such precipitation, that he was at her feet, and held her fast by the knees, in a manner before she had, the time to perceive what he did. This beautiful enemy of Antonius, being neither ableto get away from him, nor yet to endure his presence, whose importunate pursuit very-much inflamed her indignation, spent some few minutes in considering what resolution she should take, discovering in her countenance the marks of an extraordinary agitation, At last she thought fit to speak first, and endeavouring to force my Brother from her knees, with an action, which though it expressed her sufficiently incensed against him, yet made her not seem the less amiable. Upon what account is it, said she to him, that thou darest thus violate the respect due to my sex and my birth, and by what action is it that I have deserved to be exposed to thy unmerciful persecution? Is it not enough that thou hast received from me an assistance which I was not obliged to afford my enemy? Or wilt thou in requital force me once more to quit Rome to avoid what is to me, of all the earth contains, most abominable? These words pronounced with a shrill voice, and after a manner absolutely imperious, struck Antonius like a Thunderclap, and put him for a while to such a loss of spirits, that he knew not what to say. At last; rallying all the courage and resolution he had about him to stand out this encounter. Adorable enemy: said he to her, whom I do adore, though, I do not know, and to whom I am odious, yet am to learn the reason why mistake not for a persecution, or any want of respect for your Divine Beauties, those effects that proceed from a cause absolutely contrary. No, these are the expressions of my gratitude, and a passion full of veneration and respect, which I fatally conceived for you, at the very moment I became obliged to you for your assistance. Then it was that I became yours, much out of a consideration of the assistance you afforded me, but infinitely more through the violent impression which your celestial beauties made of a sudden in my heart, which there upon absolutely yielded to be yours without the least resistance. I have tenderly, nay indeed but too too tenderly for my own quiet, preserved the memory of the obligation you put upon me, and the glorious wound I received and therefore you ought to be the less offended, if I am at some pains to sinned out the opportunities both to acknowledge your goodness, and to see again those fair eyes that had hurt me. If my eyes have done you any hurt, replies the Unknown Beauty somewhat angrily, they have done me such an injury as I shall never be able to pardon them: and if what you say be true, you will find yourself very unfortunate in your address to a person, who cannot, otherwise then by hatred and aversion, make any return to your affection. I am indeed easily persuaded, replied the amazed Antonius, that I deserve this cruel aversion by reason of some defects in my person, since I am confident I could never have merited it by any action, or thought I have ever been guilty of. I see then, replied she much displeased with him, that I am still unknown to you, and, were you not ignorant whom you speak to, I am confident you would not speak to me at all, Certain it is, said he to her, with a very submissive gesture, that I am to learn whom I speak to, and whom I have be stowed myself on, unless there be no more requisite to know you, then to have well observed the divine qualities of your admirable person: all the endeavours I have used to gain a more particular knowledge of you, have proved ineffectual, so that I am now at a loss what I ought to learn, or what I ought to desire, since the knowledge of your person is of no less concernment to me then that of your aversion. You shall know both together, replies the Unknown Beauty, and you will be no longer to seek why I eat you, when I have told you that I am Daughter to Cicero, and you remember, that you are Son to Anthony and Fulvia, his Executioners. With these words she goes out of the Closet into Emilia's Chamber, and out of that into another, where she locked up herself for fear of further pursuit.  
But indeed there was no necessity she should take all that pains, for he, whose pursuit she was so much afraid of, was at such a loss, and so surprised at the discovery she had made to him of herself, that he hardly knew where he was. No that, from his understanding that she whom he loved was Cicero's Daughter, he felt any diminution in his love nor yet that being his Daughter, she appeared less amiable; but that all the hopeshe might have conceived vanished away in an instant. And when it came into his mind, not only that Anthony had caused Cicero to be put to death, but also that Fulvia, his Mother, had caused his head and his hands to be fastened to the Rostra, where he used to make his Orations, and had committed a thousand cruel indignities on the relics of that great person, whose memory was so precious among the Romans, he had no more to say for himself, and could not blame his Daughter for the horror she had conceived against the Son of Anthony and Fulvia. For, though indeed divers persons had lost their lives, during the proscriptions of the Triumvirate, which yet occasioned not eternal enmities between families, yet it is certain that in the death of Cicero, there had been some circumstances so cruèl, and Fulvia, naturally inclined to blood, had used him with so much inhumanity, even after death, that my Brother, whose memory was of a sudden burdened with all those things, and whose inclinations were absolutely virtuous, could not think on them without horror. Woe is me, cried he at last, rising up from the place where he had continued all this while, and turning to Scipio and Emilia, who had been witnesses of all that was passed, the Daughter of Cicero, hath indeed reason to avoid the Son of Fulvia, hath not his own destiny at his disposal, and cannot forbear loving, whiles he lives, the Daughter of Cicero.  
With these words he, at the entreaty of Emilia, sat down, and lay under such a dark cloud of affliction, that for a good while he was not fit for any conversation. During that time, he understood from Emilia, without any desire of his to be informed, that Tullia was a near Kinswoman of hers, and that her Mother Terentia was of the family of the Scauruses, that the beauty and excellent endowments of that young Lady had made no great noise in Rome, and that her person had not been known there so much as in all probability it ought to have been; by reason that while she was yet very young, and that during the time the house lay under disgrace, her Mother had carried her to a Countryhouse near Tusculum, where she had spent her life in solitude, without ever returning to Rome; and that haply she had not come thither so soon, if, upon occasion of her Mother's death, which happened not long before, her Brother Quintus Cicero, who lived at Rome after a very noble and high rate, and had been nominated Proconsul in some part of afric, had not some few days since sent for her. Emilia further acquainted Antonius and Scipio, that Tullia, besides the perfections of her body, had a many admirable endowments; that she had cultivated an excellent disposition with an excellent education; and that, during the time of her solitude, being addicted to the study of the nobler kind of Sciences, she was grown perfect therein; that she discovered abundance of courage and virtue; that she was not subject to the weakness of our Sex; and that she was of a conversation infinitely pleasant, when she was among persons to whom she was pleased to communicate herself.  
To these Emilia added a many other things in commendation of Tullia, whereof the effect was; that they made the wound of the unfortunate Antonius wider than it was, and disarmed him of all the forces he had to oppose a passion, wherein he expected not to find any satisfaction. Scipio was extremely troubled at it, through those sentiments which friendship inspired him with; and Emilia, who had that esteem for his virtue, as all others had that were acquainted with it, had an extraordinary compasson for his misfortune, and would have been very glad to find out any means to comfort and assist him. But knowing Tullia to be a person constant and unchangeable in her resolution, especially in those, wherein she thought her honour concerned, and that from what she already knew, she foresaw that the passionate Antonius would find but little satisfaction in his love, she endeavoured to divert his thoughts from it, with the best agruments she could make against it, and forbore not to tell him whatever she imagined might put him into some doubt of the success, and fear of her friend's humour. My Brother heard her with abundance of patience, and great expression of the resentment he had of her goodness, in concerning herself so much in his misfortunes: but when all was done, he protested to her, that it was impossible for him to make any advantage of her good advice, and that that unfortunate passion was grown so predominant in his soul, that he was out of all hopes ever to see himself free from it, what course soever he might take. Scipio added his remonstances to those of Emilia, and knowing, that, besides the difficulties, which his friend might well fear in respect of Tullia, he was in the ready way, by a fruitless love, to ruin his fortunes which seemed absolutely to court him in the design which Augustus had to marry him to one of his Nieces, he represented to him whatever his friendship could suggest that were most rational, and most likely to prevail with him in that emergency: but he took pains to as little purpose as Emilia, and that poor lover, too too violently prepossessed, made them both such answers, as raised in them more compassion to see him so resolute, then hope to see him of any other mind. I am not to learn, said he to them at last, that in Tullia 's aversion. I have a terrible enemy to engage with, nay am further-satisfied that the hatred she hath for our Family is so justifiable, that I should find it a hard matter to find any pretence to condemn her for it. As to the design which Caesar and Octavia Emperours' good inclinations towards me into just resentments against me. But there is something withal I know much better than I do all this, that is, that I am not able to hear any reason in the wretched condition to which I am reduced; and that whatever the most enforcing arguments might produce where there is freedom of spirit, they will have no effect at all upon amind fatally and unfortunately prepossessed. I am absolutely persuaded, added he a while after, that this misfortune is an effect of the wrath of the gods against the memory of Anthony and Fulvia, and that they could not revenge that of the unfortunate Cicero, against his murderers, otherwise then by sacrificing their Son to the Daughter of him whom they sacrificed to their rage and ambition. O Anthony, O Fulvia! concluded he with a sigh, I refuse not to be the victim that must appease the incensed Deities; and I cheerfully offer myself up to the fair Tullia, to expiate the blood you have unjustly spilt.  
These were all the words Emilia and Scipio could get of him; and a while after, out of a fear to displease Emilia, by depriving her of the conversation of her friend, he took his leave of her in so sad a manner, that it raised in her an extraordinary compassion for him, and went out of the house with Scipio, who would not by any means leave him; but it was in such a posture, and with a countenance so disturbed, that it was no easy matter to know him.  
From that day he grew more and more melancholy and affected solitude much more than he had done; and if, while he knew not who was the object of his passion, the desire to be acquainted with it, was his perpetual torment; the knowledge he had of it troubled him also after a strange manner: and the less disturbed and moved he was at it, the more he seemed to be afflicted and cast down. He was seldom seen at the Emperors, or at Octaviae's, or at the Princess Julias, or in any of the noblest companies of Rome, and if any of his friends came to him, where he ever entertained them with abundance of civility, they found him so changed and different from what he was wont to be, that they had not the patience to see him in that condition, without concerning themselves in his affliction, though they knew not the cause of it. All his thoughts, all his designs, aimed at nothing so much as to find out an opportunity to speak once more to Tullia, out of an imagintion, that, if he could but cast himself at her feet, and entertain her with the discourse which his mind perpetually ran upon, though her soul were made of iron, he should soften it. In this imagination he made a hundred passionate speeches, and his love inspired him with the tenderest things any mind could be capable of: but when he had sufficiently ruminated on what he would have said to her, he still was to seek for the opportunity to speak with her.  
Tullia had been in Rome but some few days, and her abode was at her Brother's, Quintus Cicero, who lived after the rate of a Consular house, suitably to the condition his Father had left him in; but there was no likelihood Antonius should ever give her a visit at that house. The Son of Cicero had for the family of Anthony a resentment which none could blame him for; and though, by reason of Caesar's authority, the factions of the Triumvirate had been reconciled, and that the families among which the difference of parties had produced very fatal effects, were content to be quiet, and forbore openly to endeavour the revenge of past injuries: yet had not that reconciliation, which had put a Period to the civil wars, so far reunited their hearts, as to establish friendship, and secure the freedom of visits: nay, though this had been effected among those whose enmities were grounded on more inconsiderable injuries, yet those between the children of Cicero, and those of Anthony and Fulvia, amounted to some thing more bloody, than to admit of any correspondence between them: Besides, young Cicero was a person of a nature much different from that of his Father; he was stupid, brutish, and malicious, and though he smothered his resentmenrs out of a fear to discover them against a house of a far greater fortune than his own; yet is it certain, that, if he could have done us a mischief without any hazard to himself, he would have embraced the opportunity to do it: and therefore it was impossible Antonius should attempt the seeing of Tullia at her Brother's house, without putting his life into manifest danger. Yet was it not this fear that hindered him: for, that of displeasing Tullia had a far greater influence upon his spirit, than that of hazarding a life that could not be of much value to him, considered with the misfortune that attended it: Nay, he would have cheerfully ventured into that house, though his enemies, without any reflection on the danger that might ensue, had he observed in Tullia any sentiments different from those of her Brother: but it was his unhappiness, that after he had subdued the enemies he contemned, he should meet with one that was terrible, against whom yet he had no arms to defend himself. A hundred times did he cast himself at Emilia's feet, and made use of the interest Scipio had in her, to obtain of Tullia the permission to see her but once more in his life: in answer to which, Emilia, who had a great esteem for Antonius, as also upon the intercession of his friend, did all that lay in her power to persuade her Kinswoman to afford him that satisfaction. But Tullia was not only inexorable as to that request, but fearing further that in her visits to Emilia, she might meet with Antonius at her house, either by accident, or out of design, she entreated her not to take it amiss if she came not to her any more, till she were confident that Antonius had quitted all inclinations for her; insomuch that having earnestly entreated her pardon for that resolution, she persisted in it so far, that she made no more visits to her, or, if she saw her sometimes, it was at such hours that she was in no fear of finding my Brother there.  
This cruel obstinacy of hers to avoid Antonius had almost put him into despair, and yet such was his unhappiness, that what would have recovered any other out of an affection so much slighted, made his cure the more desperate. All the discoveries of Tullia's cruelty signified, in his apprehension, so many expressious of her virtue, and the respect she had for the memory of her Father; and so bewailing his own misfortune, he thought he could not justly charge her with any thing. He constantly visited all the places she was wont to frequent: but she, being as careful to avoid him, as he was diligent to find her out, forbore going thither as soon as she perceaved that he had discovered so much: yet could not all her caution hinder, but that he saw her sometimes in the Temple, but she either let fall her veil as soon as she perceaved him, or took up such places, and kept still such company that he could not come to her. But one day above the rest, she having not been so careful as at other times, and being gone to the Temple of Ceres, with the Maids that ordinarily waited on her, while she was at her devotion, in a remote corner, and at such a time as there were hardly any people in the Temple; my Brother, who had caused her to be watched where ever she went, having had notice of the place where she was, failed not to come thither, and to speak to her, but with a countenance that sufficiently discovered the fear he was in to displease her. Tullia had no sooner perceaved him coming towards her, but she le's fall her veil, and by that action had almost put the sad Antonius so far out of countenance, that he hardly had the courage to speak to her. However, he made a shift to recover himself; and when he was got near her, making a halt as if he stayed for some body, and having looked towards the door of the Temple, he at last turned his face to Tullia, whom, though she looked another way, addressing his speech to her; Is it possible, Madam, said he to her, you should hope for any favour from the gods you adore, when you yourself are inexorable towards those men that adore you? Tullia was silent a while out of a resolution not to make Antonius any answer at all; but at last conceaving that what she should make him would be such, as she might haply be rid of him for ever after: It is not for the Son of Fulvia, said she to him, to hope for any favour from the Daughter of Cicero; and if Cicero's Daughter may expect any from Anthony 's Son, it shall be no other than that he would never either see or think on her again. You cannot without injustice, replies Antonius, charge me with the crime of Mark-Anthony and Fulvia; vay I am confident you are satisfied of my innocence; I am so, replied she, and therefore I have not the least thought of revenge for you; but, if I am not mistaken, I can be charged with no injustice, if I abjure all conversation with their son, who were the implacable murderers of my Father. Ah unmerciful woman! replied the afflicted Prince, you pretend reason not to be revenged of a person that is innocent, and in the mean time know very well, that, if you should thrust a dagger into my breast, there were much less cruelty in your revenge, than there is in your shunning me as you do. I shall shun you while I live, replied she very angrily, and, if you get not from me, I shall not only quit this Temple, but shall leave Rome and Italy, in case you do not forbear persecuting me. With these words she would have risen out of the place where she was, but Antonius, thinking he could not any further press her without incivility, prevented her departure; and having made her a low reverence, he went from her, so clouded with affliction, that for that whole day he was not capable of any conversation.  
Though Antonius sound it a great difficulty to conceal from those who were acquainted with his natural cheerfulness, the change which that unfortunate passion had wrought in him, yet were they ignorant of the cause, and for a good space of time only; Scipio knew the mystery of it. But, at last, it came to the knowledge of divers persons by several discoveries sufficiently extraordinary, but particularly by one which, because it was public and withal very rare, made no small noise in Rome. The Emperor, Livia, Julia, Octavia, and all the Illustrious Persons about Rome were one day assembled in the Cirque, where they were to be entertained with the combats of savage beasts, by Agrippa, who had brought them out of afric to that purpose, as you know it is an ordinary thing at Rome, as also that those who would have the reputation of being magnificent, do often entertain the people with such sports. Though Tullia went very seldom into great companies, as well by reason of the mourning she was still in for her Mother, as out of a fear of meeting Antonius, yet this day she thought herself obliged to go, not only upon the account of Agrippa: who was at the charge of the divertisement, but also because it was her Brothers will she should go, and accordingly he brought her thither with divers other Persons of their Family and Alliance. Antonius, who was very much in hope she would be there, and expected, with much impatience, to see her, observed, very much to his satisfaction, the place where she sat, which was near enough to her Brother, and some of her Kinswomen: but found withal to his grief, that Lucius Cecinna, a young man, of an Illustrious House, and one that had the reputation of courting her, having waited upon her thither, sat down by her. This sight made Antonius blush, and inflamed him with indignation and jealousy; yet durst he not seat himself near Tullia, out of a fear she would take it unkindly, and a confidence that she would admit no conversation with him? But he got into a place, which, being not very far from her, and at one of the Angles of the Amphitheatre, joining to that where she was, gave him the advantage of seeing her better than any other part where he could have placed himself. The seats of persons of quality are in the lowest Stage, and nearest the Area, which is the place where the combats are fought, whether they be between Beasts or Gladiators: so that those of that rank may lean against certain Pilasters, whereby the Cirque is compassed about, and which is raised up to such a height, as to secure them from the fury of the Lions and Tigers, that are the creatures of greatest agility: the seats behind that, being raised, and standing at a greater distance, are for the people, who are ordinarily admitted to these sights, to their very great delight and entertainment. I went thither myself that day with the Princess Julia, though we were both of us at that time but in the thirteenth year of our age, and consequently I can give you a more particular account of this action, than of some others at which I was not present.  
Antonius had his eyes continually fastened on Tullia's face, who never was guilty of so much as one look towards him. This amorous Prince looked upon that freedom of conversation which was between her and Cecinna, with a very jealous eye, and with no small disturbance of mind: and if any one had concerned himself so far as to mind his actions, he might easily have observed in his countenance the agitations of his soul. There had past divers combats of several beasts, which found the Spectators abundance of sport and entertainment, and they were going to open the door to let in a Tiger and a Bear of a prodigious bulk, to set them a fight together, when Antonius, who had his eyes still fixed on Tullia, saw, that amidst the conversation she had with Cecinna, and certain Ladies that sat about her, she took out a little box, set with divers rich Diamonds, wherein was her own picture, which her Mother had caused to be taken about a year before, and which she had given her at her death. She had shown it to those Ladies, and Cecinna had it in his hands a good space: but at last going to restore it to Tullia, the box, through negligence, slipped out of his hands, and, she leaning on the rail, it fell down into the Area, just when the two furious beasts were coming into it with looks so full of terror, that they put the Spectators into some fear. Tullia, being extremely troubled at the fall of the box, she respected so much, into a place, whence in all likelihood there would not be any so desperate as to fetch it again, gave a great outcry, and by her countenance and all her actions expressed an extraordinary disturbance at that accident. The Emperor, and all that were present, soon came to understand it, but there was no possibility to recover it while the beasts were within the Cirque. Cecinna, who was partly the occasion of the falling of the box, endeavoured to persuade Tullia to patience, by telling her, that, after the combat of the beasts, he would go and find it for her: but she giving too much way to her indignation upon so leight an occasion, answered him very roundly, that had she been a man, she would have ventured her life to fetch her picture. She had no sooner delivered these words, but young Antonius, whom his passion had at that time absolutely devested of all reason, distracted as to all matter of consideration, not only of the hazard whereto he exposed himself without any necessity, but also of the noife which that action must needs make, contrary to the design he had to keep his love secret, turning towards that side where Tullia was; Fair Tullia, said he, loud enough to be heard by her, you shall find there is a man who dares hazard his life to do you this inconsiderable service; and thereupon, leaning upon the rail, he vaulted over it into the Cirque. I was ever of opinion, that Antonius, a person naturally discreet, would never have been guilty of an action so extravagant, had he not been transported by an overviolent passion. But I imagined withal, as divers others did, that to do Tullia that service, whereof the consequence deserved not he should expose his life to so great a danger, he had been encouraged partly by a belief he was of, that he might not haply, while he lived, meet with so noble an occasion to express his love to her, and partly by a desire he had to let her know the difference there was between him and Cecinna, whom she preferred, and favoured even in his presence. However it were, this action raised a many outcries among the Spectators, even to the Emperor himself, who had a great love and esteem to my Brother. My Sister and I were almost out of ourselves to see it, Octavia was not a little troubled at the accident, nay there was hardly one in that great Assembly, that was not troubled at it, only Antonius seemed to be the person that had any confidence, and though he were a little startled at his alighting, by reason of the height of the place whence he had leapt down, yet immediately recovering himself, he drew his sword, and went with an undaunted courage towards that side where the box lay sparkling among the sand. He was so happy as to take it up without any hindrance, and so indiscreet as to open it in the same place, and to have the patience to look on the beautiful picture of Tullia that was enclosed within it. Yet was it not with so little caution, but he stood sufficiently on his guard, to defend himself if the beasts came to fasten on him: but as he went towards the door at which he was to go out, he made no more haste than ordinary, and retreated so as if he had not been in the least fear of the two beasts that were within the Cirque. The Bear stirred not from the place she was in, but the Tiger came up to my Brother with his sparkling eyes, and in such a posture, as put all that were present into a fright. Antonius might have gained the door before the Tiger could have fastened on him, if he would have run for it, but such a flight he thought unworthy his courage; and therefore seeing this terrible enemy coming towards him, he stood and expected him, and presented the point of his sword to him with an admirable constancy. You may well imagine, that all those to whom Antonius' life was any way dear, were not a little troubled at the accident: but it was the pleasure of the gods, that when the furious beast saw the glistering of the sword, it made a halt, and seemed uncertain what resolution to take: when the Emperor having called out to those of his guard that were about him, immediately to kill it, it was shot with above twenty arrows, and fell down dead at Antonius' feet. He seemed to be somewhat troubled at the death of the beast, saying he was very sorry he had deprived the Emperor and the Spectators of part of their entertainment, and when he thought he might retire without dishonour, (for the Bear had not stirred from the place) he came to the door which they kept open for him, and by the stairs joining thereto, came up in the Amphitheatre. As all that were present had a secret admiration for what he had done, so did all gladly make way for him, it being perceived that it was his intention to restore Tullia her picture; and accordingly having without much trouble gotten up to the place where she was, he comes to her with a submissive action, and presenting her with the box: Were I not odious in your sight, Madam, said he to her, I would entreat you to entertain the inconsiderable service I have done you without aversion: and if I am so unhappy as that I cannot be otherwise, I beseech your acceptance and acknowledgement of that I would have done you by exposing my life, which you so much detest, to danger.  
Now the enmity which is between the Children of Cicero, and the House of Anthony, being known to all the World, no body took any exceptions at those words of Antonius; but there were many who thought that that action should have obliged Tullia to some kindness, or at least to receive that service with a seeming civility. But her deportment was quite otherwise, and instead of making any acknowledgement of the service he had done her, she turned her face another way, and vouchsafed not so much as either to make him any answer, or receive out of his hands the picture he presented to her. This action, which displeased all that were present, struck Antonius to the very heart; but having fortified himself with an extraordinary courage, and done an action so full of gallantry, that he thought himself obliged to press it home: Madam, said he to her, not without some violence done himself, to smother his grief in so great an Assembly, I must confess my unhappiness such, that I deserve to be treated as I am, but do not, haply, the precious treasure you are pleased to leave me, as such as I durst not have detained, had you thought good to receive it.  
These words startled young Cicero not a little, who sat near his Sister, and was as much displeased at my Brother's action as she, but withal would have been much troubled to see him keep his Sister's picture. But he whom they had greatest influence on, was the amomorous Cecinna, who being passionately in love with Tullia, could not without much disturbance within himself, see her picture in the hands of a man, whom he looked on as his Rival, and withal a powerful one: so that he would undertake to Antonius, to persuade Tullia to receive the picture, and while he desired it, Cicero reached forth his hand to receive it from him. But Antonius looking on them both with a certain contempt, and with a disdainful smile; 'tis not thee, Cicero, said he to them, and much less to thee, Cecinna, that I intent to restore it; And since Tullia is content it should remain in my hands, I shall keep it no otherwise than I would do my life. If thou wouldst have had it, added he, looking on Cecinna, thou shouldst have gone for it to the place where it fell through thy negligence; and if thou art so desirous of it, thou must force it out of a place, whence there will haply be as much difficulty to get it, as from among Bears and Tigers. However it be, I here protest before the gods, that I shall never part with it willingly, till Tullia desire it of me herself, and that I will never put it into other hands than hers.  
With these words he left Tullia, and, without any more ado, immediately quitted the Amphitheatre, out of a fear that Tullia might change her mind, and call for her picture. She was upon the point to do it, as being desirous it should not remain in his hands, nay indeed would not have been well satisfied to leave it with any man, how great an affection soever she might have for him: but, thinking there were other ways to retrieve it, she thought it better to have patience for some days, than to remit any thing of her disdain, and stoop so low as to desire it, after what had passed before so many great and Illustrious Persons.  
This action raised no small noise in Rome, and found all people matter of discourse. Several judgements passed upon it: there were a many that attributed it to the true cause; others made it only a piece of gallantry, and the effect of a violent desire of glory, a thing not inconsistent with the fiery humour of a young man: Nay, some, pitching upon an opinion probable enough according to the intention of Antonius, and the discourse he made of it, which was, that, having discovered Tullia in that great Assembly to be the Lady from whom he had received such assistance when his horse fell under him, whom till then he had not known, and had sought out so much, though he knew not who she was, imagined that he had resolved to express by some service, the resentment he still had for the kindness she had done him, and that just than an opportunity offering itself, he thought he could not, without baseness, that is, without being accounted either an ungrateful person, or a man of little courage, let it slip. With this discourse did my Brother satisfy the Emperor, who blamed him very much for exposing his life to so great a danger without any necessity; but that account of the business being probable enough, Augustus, who could not disapprove those actions that argued courage, had a greater esteem for Antonius than he had before. Octavia, who was as tender of all the children of Anthòny, as she was of her own, especially of him she intended to make her Son in Law, entertained this discourse as the Emperor did; and attributed to gratitude, excellency of nature, and the courage of Antonius, what was merely a demonstration of his passion. And yet what had passed at the closure of the business, concerning Tullia's picture, which he had refused to restore either to Cicero, or Cecinna, with words passionate enough, might cause a little suspicion; but it might also be attributed to pure gallantry, which might produce that effect in a person of the age my Brother was then of, and that, after the doing of so noble an action. In fine, every one censured it according to his inclination; and Antonius, whatever might be said to him, could not repent him of it, though he was extremely troubled at Tullia's deportment towards him, and that the vexation he conceived thereat, put him sometimes into a resolution, to do what lay in his power, to free himself of that cruel slavery.  
Some days after, having entreated Scipio to bring my Brother with him to her house, he failed not to come; and having told her that he should think himself extremely happy, if she would be pleased to lay any commands upon him, she told him before Scipio, who was present, that she was desirous to have some discourse with him upon the entreaty of Tullia, who had charged her to demand her picture of him, and had desired her to employ all the interest she had in him to get it, upon the confidence she had that my Brother would not deny that satisfaction to a person, for whom he seemed and professed to have a great esteem. Antonius entertained this discourse of Emilia's with abundance of respect, and when she had given over speaking, Madam, said he to her, it is not without reason your friend is persuaded that you have an absolute power over me, and accordingly I did not much doubt but that she would make this request to you, when ever she should be content to have her pictture again: and I further engage myself, that I will return it as soon as she shall be pleased to receive it, and that I have no intention to keep it against her will, though I haply better deserve that favour than others, whom she may confer it upon. Tullia is more discreet, replies Emilia, than to bestow her picture on any one: and I can assure you she hath no such intention, and that it is only for herself that she hath entreated me to get it out of your hands. Ah Madam! replied my Brother, you know what I am obliged to by my oath, an oath I took in the most Illustrious Assembly in the World. I cannot return the picture till Tullia desire it, nor put it into any other hands than her own. I conceive myself disengaged as to the one half of it, and I receive the demand you make of it, as from Tullia 's own mouth: but for the other part of my oath,, whereby I am obliged 't to restore it only to herself, it cannot admit any explication. And if you will give me leave to add to the justice of my cause the confidence I have in your goodness, and to speak sincerely to you, as to a person whose protection I cast myself under, I shall tell you, that for the favour of one visit from Tullia, she shall receive her picture. 'Tis the least she can do, if she have any desire to have it again: and if she deny me so poor a request, you are to imagine it is her pleasure I should keep it: all I desire is to put it into her own hands in your presence, and you shall be privy to our conversation. And, to acquaint you with what is most secret to my thoughts, since you see I have but this only means left me to procure one visit more of Tullia while I live, methinks you cannot without cruelty take it away from me. Emilia found a great deal of reason in my Brother's discourse, and Scipio adding his persuasions to the others to prevail with her, they brought her to this at last, that she promised to use all the interest she could with Tullia to oblige her to see Antonius once more, and to receive her picture from his own hands, according as he was engaged by his oath.  
She made it her business that very day, but to no purpose, so that Antonius understood by her, the next, that all the entreaties she could make to her, could not induce that hardhearted Beauty to condescend thereto, and that, at last, she had with a strange constancy protested, that she had rather lose her picture, by an accident whence it might not be inferred that she had any design to favour Antonius, then resolve to see him, and to speak, with her will, to a man, whose name those of her family could not hear without horror. My Brother was extremely cast down at this obstinacy of Tullia, and entertained Emilia with divers discourses, which moved her to much compassion for him: but he also continued firm to the resolution he had made not to deliver the picture, not that he could do Tullia this displeasure without some repugnance, but that, besides the comfort he received from the sight of that dear image, he thought he could not with honour restore it, after the protestation he had made not to do it before Cecinna and Cicero, who pretended to be so much concerned in it. What confirmed him further in this resolution, was, that, some days after, he understood that Cicero, purposely to spite him, had bestowed his Sister on Cecinna; and it was conceived that within a few days he was to marry her, and indeed it was certain that he had promised her to him, and though Tullia had not till then any particular affection for Cecinna, yet being discreet and virtuous, she submitted to her Brother's will, and without any contradiction entertained the Husband he was pleased she should have. This news put my Brother into such violent transports of grief, as you may easily imagine, if you consider well what I have told you concerning those of his Love; nay, it is almost a miracle that he did not discover it by some action suit able to the passion he was hurried by. At first all his thoughts ran upon some thing that was violent and fatal; and when he imagined to himself that his Rival was happier than he, did not only deprive him of what he loved, but might haply be the cause of all Tullia's rigour towards him, had prevented him by an affection, that made her insensible of all the expressions he made to her of his, and exasperated her against him more than any consideration of the death of Cicero, he could not oppose the torrent of his resentments, nor think of any thing but the death of his Rival. How said he, walking in a furious manner, it was then the love of Cecinna that made Tullia 's heart impenetrable as to all compassion; and it is Cecinna that robs me of this unmerciful Beauty, and, with her, of all the satisfaction and desire of life? I wonder not, added he, at his backwardness to recover her picture, and the confidence he had soon to be possessed of the person, hath made him take it the more indifferently to see her fair image in the hands of an unfortunate Rival. 'Tis the knowledge he had of my misfortune made him neglect what haply both his interest and his honour had obliged him to do, and I am satisfied he had courage enough to take the advice of his reputation in that emergency, if the hope of a greater happiness had not made him less earnest for what was of less consequence. Whereupon he walked for a good while, without speaking at all, then breaking forth into his ordinary transports, Think not, Cecinna, said he, that I resign Tullia to thee, as thou hast done her picture to me; it shall cost thee the purest of thy blood to dispute whose she shall be, and since I have hazarded my life for her picture, it is but just thou shouldst venture something for the person.  
This was the resolution he took; but when he thought himself fully confirmed in it, he met with such difficulties in that design which he was not a little startled at. He had reason to fear he might displease Caesar, who, upon what had passed in his presence fearing the consequence, had forbidden them very severely to attempt any thing one against another. Nay, there was yet something more in it, as to what resentment the Emperor might have of it; for when he considered that he could not quarrel with Cecinna upon the account of any interest in Tullia, without declaring openly, & discovering at the same time the little regard he had for the advantageous design which the Emperor and Octavia had for him, and that in a conjuncture on which his absolute fortune depended, he knew not what course he should take to overcome that difficulty. And yet this was not considerable to him, in comparison of the fear he was in of Tullia's indignation, as putting it out of all doubt that he must needs force her to the extremities of enmity towards him, by putting himself in a posture to take away that man's life whom she accepted for her Husband. To be short, this consideration prevailed so far upon him, that he hardly minded the rest, and how far soever he might be from deserving the cruel treatments he received from that incensed Beauty, yet was his soul guilty of such extraordinary respects towards her, that he would have looked death in the face with less disturbance, than the occasion of offending her.  
These contradictions kept his thoughts in an aequilibrium in so strange a perplexity; so that finding it a hard matter to fix on any thing, he continued some days without fastening on any resolution. During that time he delighted altogether in solitude, avoiding the company even of his Friend Scipio, and retiring into the most solitary places, where he would not admit any of his own people to be about him. Without the gate called Porta-Capena, there is a little Wood near the fair Gardens of Metellus, where the shadiness and solitude of the place afford very pleasant walking, for such as avoid company. Antonius going out of Metellus' Garden, was directed thither by his own cruel thoughts, or rather by some genius, who would determine his irresolutions. He walked there a long time alone, (having left those servants that he brought with him from home, which he could not dismiss, at the Garden door of Metellus) and had endeavoured to find out, though with no success, what might prevent the happiness of Cecinna, without any violation of the respect he ought Tullia, or incurring the displeasure, (if it were possible) of the generous Octavia and the Emperor, when coming to a crosse-walk, he spies a man coming all alone towards the place where he was, and having looked on him very attentively, when he was come somewhat near, he found him to be Cecinna. The sight of him inflamed Antonius with indignation and jealousy; and though he suspected what design brought Cecinna towards him, yet did he mistrust his own thoughts of mistake, and was in some fear he should not have so much power over himself as to reflect, in that emergency, upon those considerations whereby his hands were as yet tied up. In this uncertainty he expected him as ready to fight, and in such a posture as put Cecinna into some disturbance.  
Now my Brother being a person of higher quality in Rome than he was, and his interest consequently, with those that managed the supreme power, much greater, he was more cautions and circumspect in what he undertook, than he had haply been with another person, whose fortunes had been meaner; and accordingly coming very civilly towards him, It hath been my business for some days to find you out, said he to him, and I should have spoken to you sooner, could I have done it with the same liberty as I now do. I should have given you all you could have expected, answered Antonius, if I had had but the least notice of your desires, and since you now have as much freedom as you could have wished; neglect not this opportunity to acquaint me with what you think fit to let me know. I doubt not, replied Cecinna, but you know that sufficiently well already, and if you but remember that Tullia 's picture is still in your hands, you are at the same time satisfied of the great concernment I have to entreat you to return it to me. I have not desired it of you while I was of opinion it might be gotten out of your hands without my interposition. But now that the interest of Tullia, and that of her friends hath proved ineffectual, you will not think it strange, if, as things now stand between us, I endeavour to obtain that from you which you had denied them,  
Antonius looking on him with scornful smile, There is indeed but very little likelihood, said he to him, I should grant Cecinna what I had denied Emilia: besides, I am of opinion, that if you had been so desirous of Tullia 's picture, you would have gone for it to the place whence I took it. Though I was much less obliged to do it than you, it were unjust I should, with the hazard of my life, procure a thing you had slighted, to bestow it on you with so much ease, and you may haply find yourself very much mistaken, if you imagine there may be less danger to get it out of my hands, than to recover it out of the Area of the Amphitheatre. Had there been any necessity for that action, replied Cecinna, I should have done it as well as you: And if there had been any justice, interrupted Antonius very roundly, to restore what I had so well gotten, I had restored it to Emilia, and not to you. However it be, Cecinna, you ought not to expect it, as being the last of all men for whom I should have that compliance. I thought indeed, replied Cecinna, I should be forced to those extremities with you, which the Emperor hath forbidden us: and it is with that design that I sought you out, resolved to take away either your life, or Tullia 's picture. This is it I expected from thee, replied Antonius fiercely, and which I thought I had so sufficiently obliged thee to, as to make thee contemn all other considerations.  
With these words they both laid hands on their swords, and drew at the same time, there being not any body near to hinder them. They exchanged a many blows, with much more fury than circumspection. Cecinna fought with abundance of courage, but with little good fortune; and being overrash and inconsiderate, be received two mortal wounds in the body, upon which he fell down at my Brother's feet, with very little remainder of life. Antonius had no doubt wished the death of Cecinna, and had behaved himself in that duel with abundance of indignation and animosity against him; but being a person of a great and noble soul, seeing him fall with all the mortal signs, his anger vanished, and compassion took place in his heart, into which the passions whereby it was then moved, were not against its admittance. He came to Cecinna, to do him all the good he could, and endeavouring to stop his blood, persuaded him to take courage, by all the words which might express the regret and sorrow he conceived at his misfortune.  
But while he was employed in this compassionate office, there comes, by an accident, you cannot but be astonished at, a Chariot, full of Ladies, to take the pleasure of a solitary walk in the Wood, to the place where they were: and the Ladies, who intended to take a walk, being got out of the Chariot, came on easily without any jealousy of what had happened, to the very place where the unfortunate Cecinna was expiring his last, in my Brother's arms. You may well imagine what astonishment this sad spectacle raised in the Ladies; but it will be hard for you to conceive that of my Brother, when with Emilia and some other Ladies of his acquaintance, he saw the cruel Tullia; that very Tullia whom he had so well engraven in his soul. I leave it to you to supply the difficulty of expression I meet with in this strange rencontre, so hard is it for me to give you an account of the agitations of these two souls in so unexpected an adventure. If Antonius was surprised to see that Tullia whom he adored, that Tullia, who shunned him with all the cruelty imaginable; nay, the same Tullia, whose Lover, that was to be within a few days her Husband, he had killed; you may well think that Tullia, on the other side, was not less astonished to meet with that Antonius, whom she avoided, standing over the expiring Cecinna, and soiled with the blood of a man she was to be married to. She had not had, 'tis true, any violent affection for him, yet it is withal certain she had no dis-inclination towards him; and since she had been acquainted with the design her Brother had to make her his Wife, she had entertained in her heart all the love she thought herself obliged to have, for a person that was shortly to be her Husband: so that she could not see him weltering in his blood, and expiring at his enemy's feet, without feeling an extraordinary affliction, and whatever her soul was capable of, upon an accident of that nature. She at first sight gave a great outcry, and was ready to swoon in Emilia's, arms, who made a shift to hold her up, and, a little after, casting her eyes on both Antonius and Cecinna, on the one, with all the demonstrations of compassion, and on the other with all those of indignation, shedding tears for Cecinna, and darting forth her wrathful looks on Antonius, she continued for some minutes in an uncertainty as to what resolution she should take whether to avoid what she hated, or to succour what she was obliged to love. And whereas she seemed to be rather carried away by the aversion she had for my Brother, or at least inclined rather to the motives she conceived she had to avoid him, then to the affection she had for Cecinna, her first reflections seemed to engage her to avoid the face of an enemy, especially he being such a one as confirmed himself to be such, by the action he had then done. But afterwards, upon second thoughts, she, being a Lady that chose rather to be guided by her duty then her passions, and conceived herself obliged to relieve Cecinna dying upon her account, rather than to avoid Antonius, comes to him, with a face bathed in tears, and by certain broken words entreated him to take heart, and to further all he could the design she had for the preservation of his life. The expiring Cecinna met with this satisfaction in his misfortune, that he breathed out his last in the arms of Tullia, and mustering up all the strength he had left him; to turn his eyes towards her, and to take her by the hand, she reached forth to him, while one of her Maids held up his head in her lap; Madam, said he to her, I lose my life by the hands of Antonius, but it was through my own fault and seeking; and therefore I beseech you to forgive him my death as heartily as I do myself. The compassion, he takes at my misfortune, deserves yours; and I die happy and glorious, since I die at your feet, for your sake, and in a condition that forces those fair showers from your eyes.  
With much difficulty was he delivered of these words, but with them he lost his speech and, some few minutes after, breathed out his last, leaving in Tullia's soul such violent characters of passion, that she hardly knew where she was, or what she did. My Brother, to give her way, retired some few paces when she came near Cecinna; and being extremely moved with pity for his misfortune, the affliction he perceived it was to Tullia heightened his own so much and so violently, that he had much ado to keep off from despair. He, at first, thought himself obliged to avoid the eyes of that incensed Beauty; nay, though he was infinitely desirous to have a sight of her, yet must he need imagine, that, as things than stood, he could not without inhumanity importune her with his. Out of this consideration had he already retired some few paces; but his passion growing too strong for him, would needs oblige him to speak to her, and to make some reparation for the injury he had done her. This resolution grew so strong upon him, that he could not resist it, and so slighting all those reflections that were incompatible with the violence of his love, he came some paces nearer, he looked on that desolate Beauty, with all the agitations that a soul that hath lost all command of itself can be capable of. He had not hardly had the confidence to open his mouth, had he not been encouraged by the presence of Emilia, whom he knew to be favourable to him, and from whom he expected some relief. But at last, having rallyed a the courage he had, he sets one knee on the ground, and looking on Tullia in a trembling posture; I should not presume to importune you with my sight, Madam, said he to her, if I thought not myself obliged to make you some satisfaction for the injury I have done you; and though Cecinna hath in some sort justified me, by telling you that I only stood in a defensive posture against him, yet the displeasure I have done you is greater than to be passed over with such a reparation. There was no need of this last misfortune to heighten the aversion you have ever had for the unfortunate person that now adores you; and this sight of you, which I so earnestly begged before, should not have been granted me, together with that of an accident which can raise in you nothing but horror for this so unhappy a wretch. But since it is the disposal of heaven it is but just that both Heaven's anger and yours should be appeased: and since I am already so well acquainted with your heart, as to believe I shall find in you all the resolution requisite to revenge yourself, and to do right to the Manes of Cecinna, here take the sword, (continued he, drawing it, and presenting her with the hilt) take the sword that hath taken away the life of Cecinna, thrust it into this breast which lies open to you, and spare not, after the injury I have done you, a life, which, even in a condition, of innocence hath ever been odious to you.  
At these words Tullia, who all the while would not so much as look towards him, but turned her face another way, gave him such a sudden and furious look, that haply upon the first sallies of the violent passions she was then absolutely subject to, she might have granted the desolate Antonius the death he so much desired, and that accordingly she would have taken the sword he presented to her, and whereof the very sight very much inflamed her indignation, when she perceived upon it certain drops of Cecinna's blood. But the prudent Emilia fastening immediately upon it, got it, not without much difficulty, from Antonius; and this she did, as well in regard of the uncertainty she was in as to Tullia's intention, as to prevent that desperatè Prince, from making use of it against himself, as he might have done, in the distraction his grief had then put him into.  
Tullia continued for some time without so much as opening her mouth, expressing the agitations of her soul by her looks and silence more effectually than she could haply have done by her words. But at last, not able to master the impetuosity thereof, and looking on the prostrate Antonius with eyes, wherein, through the tears that fell from them, the fire of her indignation discovered itself but too apparently; Unmerciful disturber of my quiet, said she to him, thou who being the issue of my Father's Executioners, art resolved not to degenerate from their cruelty; Is it possible that thy inhumanity cannot be satisfied either with the blood of Cicero, spilt by thy Friends, nor with that Cecinna, which thou hast shed thyself, but thou must persecute to the death an Unfortunate Maid, who hath not without reason avoided thee, and who never yet gave thee the least offence? Dost thou hope, stained with the blood of him that was to be her Husband, that she can regard that odious passion, which hath proved the cause of all her unhappiness? Or dost thou imagine she can look otherwise on thee than a Monster, and the foulest object of detestation and horror? Go Barbarian, go Son of Fulvia, and disturb no longer the Daughter of the Unfortunate Cicero, for whom thy cruelty hath opened a source of tears, which no passion could ever have made her shed.  
As she uttered these words which came from her attended with a deluge of tears, she rested her face on Emilia's arm, when Scipio, who was then in quest of either his Mistress or his Friend, came into the place, directed thither haply by the gods, to prevent my Brother's despair. He was in few words made acquainted with all that past; and though compassion had that effect which it could not but produce in him, yet he made a shift to smother it, the better to serve his Friend, and so joined with Emilia to oppose those sentiments of hatred and indignation which Tullia had conceived against my Brother. But, notwithstanding all their arguments, entreaties and remonstrances, she was still as inflexible as ever; and the suppliant posture wherein Antonius had continued all this while, or the abundance of tears he shed after her example, could not raise in her the least touch of compassion, nor any way moderate her exasperation.  
When he saw that the mediation of Emilia and his Friend proved altogether ineffectual, rising up from the place where he was, and looking very dreadfully on Tullia, I now see Tullia, said he to her, that nothing but my death can satisfy you, and I were very much to blame, if, being near the dead body of Cecinna, I should hope to find that pity from you, which in the greatest innocence of my life, and amidst the most prevalent expressions of my love I could never obtain: nor indeed was it to your compassion that I addressed myself, but I defied the implacable aversion you have for me to put a period to that life, for which you have so much horror. I must confess, I should have embraced death more kindly from your hands than my own, as conceiving your revenge would be the more absolute, when you took it yourself. But since Emilia hath deprived you of that satisfaction which yet had been but proportionable to the grief I have innocently caused you, I shall make it my own business to sacrifice to you the remainder of this life, which hath been so unfortunately preserved, and is so cruelly abhorred.  
With these words he pretended as if he would go away with an action not far from extravagance; but Scipio, who, during his discourse, was gotten near him, stayed him, and Tullia, implacable as she was, yet having abundance of virtue about her, would not leave in the persons that heard her, the sentiments which her distraction might have raised in them, so that endeavouring once more to express herself to Antonius, yet without looking on him: I come not out of a cruel race, such as thine is, said she to him, nor do I desire any bloody reparations for the injury thou hast done me. I neither wish thy death nor thy life, and leave thee Master of a Fate wherein I never intent to be ary ways engaged: but if the horrid outrages which my family and myself have received from thee and thine, may give me leave to hope any satisfaction from thee, I entreat, as thou dost respect Heaven, or whatever else may be dear to thee, that thou never appear before me again, and that thou free me for ever henceforward of a sight which neither is nor aught to be any way supportable to me. This thou canst not refuse me, if thou hast any spark of virtue left in thee: and if thou grant it me, I engage myself never to desire either of the gods or men any revenge against thee, and that I shall not be guilty of so much as a wish that may contribute any thing to the disturbance of thy life. 'Tis but just, Madam, said Antonius to her, who was already resolved what to do; I shall give you the satisfaction you desire of me, though it be more insufferable than what I had offered you myself, and I protest to you, that you shall never while you live see again that unfortunate person whom you thus condemn to eternal banishment. With which words he went away along with Scipio, who would not by any means leave him, out of a fear of some effect of his despair; and not long after Emilia, and the other Ladies, having caused the body of Cecinna to be brought away, returned into the City in the confused condition which it is not hard for you to imagine to yourself.  
I shall not trouble you, Sister, either with the grief of Cecinna's Friends and Cicero's, or with the displeasure of the Emperor at that action, wherein yet he could not much blame my Brother, after he had understood the circumstances of it. But I must needs tell you, that Antonius, having spent the night with Scipio, who would by no means leave him till he were a little recovered, vanished the next morning, and hath not been seen since in any part of the earth that ever we could hear of, though he hath been sought out everywhere. He went away with a very small retinue, purposely to avoid being discovered in the places through which he passed, and where he intended to spend his life, only he left a Letter for Scipio, wherein he entreated him to make his excuses to all those to whom he was obliged to make any, either out of respects of birth, or any other considerations, further desiring him, not to inquire after the place of his retirement, protesting to him that he knew it not himself, and that he was resolved to wander up and down the World, till he were quite recovered of Tullia's love, and then he promised to return to Rome, and not before. Scipio and all his Friends sent some after him for certain days, but they returned to Rome very much troubled that they could meet with no tidings of him. Tullia extremely cast down, and in a manner distracted at this unhappy adventure left Rome some few days after, and returned to her solitude, where she continued for many years. And thus, by a passion fatally inflamed, have we lost a Brother; a great and excellent person. It is six or seven years since this loss happened, which yet I was sensible of, before it could be thought one of my age could be sensible of any such thing, and in regard that it is since that time that all the remarkable accidents of my life are happened, my Brother could not be any way concerned in them. And thence it came, that I made no mention of him in the relation of all the misfortunes which the love of Coriolanus hath engaged me in. I shall now proceed to the adventures of the rest of our Family, which having happened long since the other, I have accordingly fresh in my memory.  
Here the fair Cleopatra made a stop to take her breath a little, and Artemisa, who had heard her with very much attention, without ever interrupting her all the time, seeing her come to that place, Good Heaven, Sister, said she to her, what an extraordinary obligation have you put upon me by this discourse of yours? and what regret have you raised in me for the sad fortune of that Brother of yours, who in all probability, would have lost nothing of the lustre of your noble house? How angry have I been with that inflexible Tullia, who made so little distinction between the innocent and the guilty, and how different have our sentiments been, though we have met with equal occasions to express them? I could not absolutely disapprove the ●arriage of Tullia, replies Cleopatra, though it were somewhat too violent at the latter end. At so bloody a spectacle as that of the death of Cecinna, she could not be less troubled than she seemed to be; and in the beginning, though Antonius were innocent, yet was he Son to those who had put her Father to a death notorious for the cruelty of its circumstances. And if there were no reason she should be desirous to be revenged upon him, so was there not on the other side any that should engage her to admit his conversation, much less the expressions of his affection. In your fortune things are very much different; your friendship took its first rise from your infancy, and from that time you have been accustomed to endure the presence of Alexander, not as that of their Son who had put Artabasus to death, but as that of a Prince that adored you, and for whom ever from that time you had no aversion. The two fair Princesses had some farther discourse upon that subject, which ended, Artemisa having entreated Cleopatra to go on with her discourse, she proceeded thus.   
The end of the first Book.   

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA; OR, Loves Masterpiece. Part. IX.  
Lib. II.  
ARGUMENT.  
Cleopatra, pursuing the History of Antonia and young Ptolomey, entertains Artemisa with a description of Augustus 's Court, and gives her an account of all the most considerable Persons about Rome, in point of Love and Courtship. Augustus entertains Terentia, the Wife of Maecenas, in the Gardens of Lucullus, where Mithridates walking with Antonia, discovers his passion to her, and is slighted by her. Undressing herself that night, she finds, in one of her sleeves, a letter from an Unknown Servant. Tullia, meeting with young Ptolomey at Sabina 's, is taken with him, but he reflecting on her inflexibility towards his Brother Julius Antonius, slights her. Antonia going to the Empresses, where all the great persons about the Court were met, is surprised by her Unknown Lover with another Letter, which she finds in her handkerchief. A show upon the Tiber, wherein the Unknown Lover surprises her in a Galley, which for the invention and magnificence proved the miracle of the divertisement. That night Antonia, undressing herself, finds another Letter, at the reading of which she gives Cleopatra another which she found in one of her Gloves. Archelaus and Mithridates, Suitors to Antonia, conspire against their Unknown Rival, watch him one night, but are both worsted by him, whereupon he sends them a letter. Tullia and Emilia walk into the Gardens of Lucullus, and, for more privacy, go into an Arbour, where Tullia acquaints her with her love to Ptolomey, and is overheard by him and Lentulus, who thereupon falls desperately in love with her. The solemnity of Augustus 's Birthday, the several exercises and divertisements of it described, wherein the Unknown Lover of Antonia being declared Conqueror, receives accordingly the Prizes, which he presents at the feet of Antonia, and she, upon the command of Octavia, accepts. Having so done, he conveys himself out of Lists yet not so, but that being perceived by Mithridates, he is by him pursued and overtaken in a Wood, where they engage, and Mithridates is overthrown. Archelaus perceiving Mithridates departed, out of the same motive of jealousy, follows him, to discover the Unknown Lover, and comes up to them just as he had worsted Mithridates. Archelaus, seconding Mithridates, engages with the Unknown, who after a little fight, perceiving some coming from the City, unhorses him, yet not so, but that the other laying hold of his cask, the chin-pieces broke, and his head being by that means unarmed, he is discovered and known to be Drusus, the Son of Livia, and Brother to Tiberius. Marcellus and Ptolomey, coming in upon this, he makes his apology to them, and is by them carried away immediately to be presented to Antonia, who, upon the mediation of Augustus, Livia, Octavia, Marcellus, Ptolomey, and others, entertains him as her Servant. Archelaus goes into the wars against the Parthians. Mithridates, is made, by the Emperor, King of Comagenes, Polemon, of Pontus, and Ptolomey continues his devotions to Marcia.  
'TIS since the loss of our Brother Julius Antonius, as I told you, that so many memorable accidents have happened in our Family, such as no doubt but he would have concerned himself in, as he ought to have done, had he not been absent, nay, it may be, absolutely lost. It was much about the time of his departure that Coriolanus made the first addresses of his love to me, or it was then at least that I was come to an age, wherein I seriously began to take notice of them. I have already acquainted you with all that hath befallen me since, even to the most inconsiderable circumstances, so that I am dispensed withal as to any relation that concerns myself, though what hath happened to me be of greater consequence than any thing else that hath befallen our Family. For what relates to Alexander, you have been acquainted with the adventures of his first years to his departure from Rome; and for what hath happened to him since, I have learned it from yourself, who must needs have been the best acquainted of any with his adventures, as having been the only occasion thereof. All then that now lies on my hands to do, is, to give you an account of young Ptolomey, of the Children of Anthony and Cleopatra, and, of those of Anthony and Octavia, of my two Sisters, Agrippina and young Antonia, whom you have so particular an affection for. For Ptolomey he is yet of an age wherein it cannot be expected he should meet with many adventures, though the World hath, from several particular actions of his, conceived very miraculous hopes of him: and for my Sisters, I shall punctually acquaint you with all you desire to know concerning them.  
These two Princesses, born, no doubt, to all the perfections of nature, have extremely improved and heightened them by an excellent education, for I need say no more to you than that they have been brought up by their Mother Octavia, to let you understand what advantages they might derive from that. Agrippina is certainly a very rare and exquisite Beauty, hath a great command of understanding, and is of an exemplary virtue; nay, it will haply be found that the World is but poorly stored with persons whose accomplishments and perfections may come into the balance with those of this Princess. Yet is it as certain that Antonia surpasses her in all things, and though Heavea hath bestowed on her a Beauty of the first magnitude among those terrestrial Constellations, whose influences the earth adores and is guided by, yet is this Beauty of her person much below that of her mind, and that of her inclinations. Never was there any one of her Sex that had a mind fixed with so much solidity, refined by so much purity, and heightened by so great a disengagement from things that are inconsiderable and beneath her. It discovers such a consonancy of sweetness and severity, as amounts to a just moderation, and all her actions are guided by so certain a rule, that they defy whatever the most irreconcilable malice durst object against them. I could tell you much more of her, Sister, and yet be in some fear I might not speak enough; since it is undeniable, that, taking her in all things, there cannot be any thing more accomplished than Antonia, and it is generally acknowledged in Rome, that Octavia, the honour and ornament of her Time, could not have furnished the World with any thing else that were more worthy herself, or more like her Mother in all her great and excellent perfections.  
It is not many years, since Domitius Aenobarbus, a man Illustrious enough by his extraction, but much more for his great employments, and the noble actions he did, addressed his affections to Agrippina, and afterwards became an earnest and constant Servant of hers. And in regard his engagement in this design was not without the approbation of the Emperor, Octavia, and, in a word, of all those persons whose countenance he stood in need of, Agrippina, out of pure compliance with Octavia, entertained his addresses with the esteem and acknowledgement she was obliged to, and, without any repugnance or violence of passion, was resolved to submit to the disposal of those persons to whom she ought an obedience. But, on the contrary, Antonia, having a dis-inclination to love, and an aversion for whatever had but the least appearance of gallantry, had spent all the years of her life to this very last, not only without loving, but even without so much as enduring any discourse, or indeed the least discovery of any such thing, though her extraordinary Beauty, and the amiable excellencies of her person had raised her no small number of servants among those of greatest quality upon earth.  
Among the most eminent of those that had any thoughts for her, Archelaus, King of Cappadocia, a young Prince, of great valour, and abundance of virtue, was one of the first that declared himself a servant of hers: and certainly, if an excess of merit heighthned by services, full of passion and respect, might have had any influence on the heart of Antonia, it was not improbable they should fail of their effect on it, on the behalf of that Prince. His alliance with Caesar, or rather his dependence on the Empire, to which his dominions were tributary, (as were those of most Kings upon earth) obliged him to be very much resident at Rome, where all other Kings as well as he were forced to make their constant addresses to the Emperor.  
'twas in one of these voyages that he became a sacrifice to the fair eyes of Antonia, and upon that account stayed longer in Rome than he had resolved to do. Whole years passed away ere he durst make his case known, or any way discover himself to her, who was the occasion of all his sufferings. And though that, during this time, he traveled very much up and down, either within his own Kingdom, or into those of his next neighbours, whither the war often drew him; yet was his love his perpetual attendant, and upon the least occasion brought him still to Rome, where he had left the fair object of his passion. Whenever he felt in himself any inclination to discover to Antonia what he suffered for her sake, her severity, and that modest fierceness she was subject to, put him to immediate silence: and whereas upon all other occasions he was never known to be wanting as to courage, yet all that great confidence he was naturally master of, proved, as to this design, absolutely unserviceable, and that out of no other consideration than that he was not ignorant of the inflexible humour of Antonia. But at last he ventured to break forth into speech, after he had ushered in the discourse by thousands of actions which might have signified no less than what he spoke; but this first overture of his proved so little to his satisfaction, that for a long time after he could never reflect on it without a certain regret, which must needs be the greater, in that Antonia, who till then had suffered his conversation as the would do that of a Prince, eminent for his virtue, and high in the esteem of all the World, could not endure to hear from his own mouth, the first declaration of a passion which she had a natural aversion for, and entertained it with such a resentinent, as easily put her upon a resolution to avoid all occasions of discourse with him. However, after some time she was persuaded to endure it, but not so much out of any remorse of her inclinations, as by the mediation of Octavia, who would not have her treat, with disdain and incivility, a King of extraordinary merit, as also upon the advice of her Brother Marcellus, whom she had very great respects for, and who highly esteemed Archelaus. But after all, the greatest advantage he made of this sorbearance amounted not to so much as to make his condition any whit the better; and if Antonia gave him sometimes leave to wait on her, and to fall into discourse with her, yet could he never either from his addresses or conversation infer the least hope they might ever prove affectual, or derive any other comfort from them, save that of being assured, that his Rivals, (who no doubt were not a few, and those very considerable) were not treated any thing more favourably than himself.  
Besides Archelaus, there was a great number of other Princes at Rome, and there daily came some from all parts, as I told you, to do homage, and make their acknowledgements to the Lord of the greatest part of the Universe. Among the most accomplished were Mithridates and Polemon, persons whom their excellent endowments made accordingly considerable, it being indeed upon the account of their virtue, (which added a great lustre and advantage to their birth) that they had not long before received Crowns from the liberality of Augustus; Polemon that of Pontus, and Mithridates that of Comagenes. Mithridates, a person naturally confident and daring, and of high and aspiring thoughts, captivated by the perfections of Julia, and flattered into some hopes through her easiness, in admitting addresses and adorations, made no great secret, for some time, of the inclinations he had for her: but at length, seized with a fear of displeasing Marcellus, whom all the World very much respected as well for his repatation as his virtue, and to incense the Emperor himself, who would not have taken it kindly that his Daughter should be cajolled into any other affection than that of Mercellus, on whom he had resolved to bestow her, he was forced to smother his first inclinations, and after he had continued for some considerable time in an uncertainty, without being able to fasten on any chance, he at last ran the same fate with a many others, and became an admirer of the excellencies of Antonia, and accordingly put himself into the same predicament with Archelaus. Polemon, on the other side, continued Master of Liberty for a long time, but at last was forced to sacrifice it to Marcelia, Daughter to Octavia, by her former Husband, and Sister, both by Father and Mother, to Prince Marcellus: but his engagement into that affection was with very little hope, or likelihood of any good success; not but that his great worth and high birth were very considerable, but, it was the general belief that the Emperor had long before designed his Niece the Princess Marcelia for Wife to the great Agrippa, a person so considerable in point of reputation and interest, as not to be parallelled by Polemon, or indeed by any other person in the Empire, unless it were by Prince Marcellus himself. His younger Sister by the same marriage, named Martia, a Princess of an excellent Beauty, an admirable wit, and a disposition full of sweetness and complaisance, had also a great number of Suitors; and you are not to imagine but that Princesses of such worth, extractions and interests were more likely to raise desires than hopes in the hearts of such persons as were the most eminent.  
I have purposely given you this small account that you may thence infer what a noble and great Court there must needs be at Octavia's where we were no less than five Princesses, who, next to Julia, might, not without reason, pretend to the first rank among all those of the Empire, and that had had the honour to be brought up by the conduct of a person, whose virtue is a thousand times more considerable than all the advantages she might have derived from either her Birth or her Fortune.  
Besides those that I have named to you, that were particularly related to the Imperial House, or were otherwise of Royal extraction, there was at Rome a great number of those Illustrious Families, which are no way inferior to those of Kings, as also of those Consular Houses, whereof the chiefs have so often led Kings in Triumph, and disposed of Kingdoms as if they had been their own private estates. The admirable Sulpicia, Daughter to Lucius Metellus, the Beautiful Hortensia, Daughter to Caius Lentulus, Scrvilia Daughter to Servilius Hala, Flavia, of the Noble Blood of the Fabii, Sabina, of that of the famous Scipio's, and the discreet Virginia, the Daughter of Catulus, were, as I may say, in respect of us of the second magnitude. In like manner, among the men, the very same Families, and others of that quality had produced no small number of such, as, in all probability should not degenerate from the glory of their Ancestors; and as to matter of magnificence and gallantry, next to Marcellus, the Sons of Livia, and the Princes I have already mentioned to you, young Crassus, Son to those of that name, who died among the Parthians, a person already arrived to the fame of divers Noble Victories, young Catulus, Albinus, Ciuna, Lentulus, Flavianus the Son of Scaurus, Emilianus, of the race of the Scipio's, and Cornelianus descended of that of the Cato's, were the most Eminent and Remarkable in Rome, as well for their excellent endowments, as their Pomp and Magnificence. All these persons, or atleast the greatest part of them, came every day to the Empresse's Court, or to the Princess Julia's, or to us, or to Scribonia's, or to Terentia's, the Wife of Maecenas, and it may be well affirmed, that there was never any thing of ostentation, and magnificence, comparable to what was seen in the public shows, and divertisements, that these Illustrions' Persons daily entertained us with, and that with such prodigality and profusions, as it were impossible to meet with in any other place, than a City that is Lady of the Universe, and surfeited with the spoils of so many Kingdoms.  
I need not tell you, Sister, that I have all this while digressed from what I had first undertaken, purposely to give you a slight description of Augustu's Court, and that out of a confidence you would not take it amiss to be acquainted with the names of those persons that are the most considerable in the Universe. I shall therefore now return to our own Family, and give you a punctual account of all that you desire to know concerning it, omitting, out of design, what happened long since, the more to hasten to a relation of what hath happened within these late years, as well because it is of greatest consequence, as that is freshest in my memory, and most within my knowledge.  
That you may therefore be the better informed as to what concerns the affairs of our Family, you are to know, That Julius Antonius, as I have already told you, had been lost for some five or six years; That I was at Rome exposed to the cruel persecution of Tiberius; That Alexander was, not long before, gone from Rome into the Army in Pannonia, whence it was that he came to you; That Ptolomey was brought up in Caesar's Court, all the World conceiving miraculous hopes of him; That for our two Sisters, that were born of Octavia, Agrippina was courted by Domitius Enobarbus, and the younger Antonia by Arehelaus, King of Cappadocia, and divers other Illustrious Persons, as well among the Romans, as among those Princes that had their education in Angustus' Court, and that for the two Princesses, the Daughters of Octavia and Marcellus, and whom we still looked on as our Sisters; Marcelia was courted by Crassus and Polemon, but according to the general opinion, designed by the Emperor for the great Agrippa; and the young and fair Martia, besides a many other Suitors and Adorers, whom her excellent perfections magnetically drew after her, was most earnestly courted by Emilianus, one of the house of the Scipio's, and young Catulus, both persons extremely considerable as well upon the score of their virtues, as extraordinary worth and parts. The other Ladies, whom I have named to you, were also courted by the most Illustrious Persons about Rome, of Roman extraction, insomuch that Rome was, in point of gallantry and magnificence, much beyond what I am able to represent to you. The Emperor, who, as you know, is yet in the flower of his age, and is naturally very much inclined to whatever sounds any thing of gallantry, gave himself the example as to what tended that way, through the engagement and inclinations he then had, and still hath for Terentia, Mecaenas' Wife, a Woman of great Beauty, and a vast wit and understanding, but with this disadvantage as to her reputation, that the frequent addresses and familiarity of the Emperor did her some injury, as being one, that, having been Wife to a man whose virtue the whole Empire had a particular honour and veneration for, should have carried herself with that reservedness as might have been proof against those reports, which but too too often blast the most circumspect behaviours.  
This excellent woman did the Emperor one day take occasion to entertain with a Comedy, Music, and Walking, in the fair and famous Gardens of Lucullus, and all the persons I have named to you, with divers others, whom I have not mentioned, were admitted into the noble meeting. The first divertisement they were entertained with, while they expected the other, (which were not to be had, but by torchlight) was that of Walking, so that the Company being gotten into those pleasant walks, they took their turns about, and saw all the rarities of the Garden, which certainly are admirable, and not below the report that is spread over the World of it, and the charge, which the most sumptuous of mankind had been at about it. The Empress, whose thoughts have ever been more taken up with what related to her ambition and State-Affairs, then with any thing else, pretending to be ignorant of the Emperor's inclinations, and seeming not the least troubled thereat, would needs make one of that Assembly; and while they walked, was led by Agrippa, though she had no great respects for him, and looked on the interest he had with Augustus, with some jealousy. Maecenas waited on the Princess Octavia, and after her the Emperor himself led Terentia; after them came Julia, led by Marcellus, and after her myself, led by Tiberius. Domitius had Agrippina by the arm, and King Archelaus the fair Antonia. Marcelia was conducted by Prince Polemon, Martia by the gallant Crassus; Sulpitia, by Lentulus; Hortensia by Flavianus, Sabina by Cinna, Servilia by Emilianus, Flavia by Albinus, Virginia, by Cornelianus, & the excellent Cipassis (who for her own worth, and the friendship which Julia had for her, was numbered among the most considerable) by Ovid. Besides all these, Drusus, Ptolemy, Mithridates, and Horace, whom they had brought with them, and whom all the World respected, and was in love with, for his admirable wit, having not any Ladies to wait on, or being unwilling to engage themselves any where against their inclinations, very pleasantly desired leave to dispose of themselves where they might meet with any hands free; which Livia having, in the name of the whole company, granted them, Drusus came and took me by the hand, out of a confidence his Brother, who had me by the other, would not take it amiss. Ptolemy addressed himself to the beautiful Martia, who was led by Crassus; the daring Mathridates confidently fastened on Antonia, who was led by Archelaus; and Horace, after he had recollected himself a little after a very pleasant manner, laid hold of Cipassis, who was led by Ovid, and reaching him her hand, said very wittily, that for an unfortunate stranger, she was not the worst waited on ●n the Company, having those two men about her.  
This Noble Assembly, the noblest haply that the whole Universe could have afforded, went all together into a spacious walk, covered in a manner with trees of an extraordinary height, and abutted, as all the rest did, upon a large Basin of Water, which is in the midst of the Garden, having in it one principal figure which may be seen from all the extremities, and that is a Neptune, placed in the midst of the water, seated in his Chariot, drawn by Tritons, and holding in the right hand his Trident, which at the three points of it, cast forth water to a greater height than the highest trees of the Garden. He is compassed about by a hundred Nereids of Alabaster, disposed about the extremities of the Basis, in a hundred several postures placed at equal distances within a row of Pilasters of white marble, by which it is encompassed. From this place, by the means of twelve spacious walks, which abutt there, may be seen all the extremities of the Garden, and the end of every walk is remarkable for some object that does a certain pleasant violence on the sight, and surprises the Spectator in twelve different manners. That particular walk into which we were gotten, entertained our eyes only with the gate of the Garden, and a prospect of Rome; but all the rest end either with perspectives, made with so much art, that they deceive the sight, even to the extremity thereof; or with grotts, admirable as well for the variety of shells, and the Nacre whereof they are built, as for the diversity of the springs and figures, whereby they are adorned, or with Arbours miraculous for their structure, or lastly with descents of water, ordered with such extraordinary artifice, as that falling from an excessive height upon a many several steps, it makes a confused, but withal, a pleasant noise, and so runs into a number of little channels, which border the Walks in divers places, cross them in divers others, so that people are forced to go over them upon Bridges, having on both sides Pilasters of Marble.  
The twelve principal Walks are crossed up and down by an infinite number of others, wherein it is not hard for one to lose himself; but with this advantage, by way of recompense, that wheresoever chance, or your own inclination disposes of you, the objects you are entertained with, are every where very delightful and very surprising. There are thousands of rarities in this Garden, which I do not trouble you with an account of, and for what I have told you, it hath only been by the way, and somewhat besides my purpose.  
When the whole Company had taken several turns about the Basin, it divided itself into several parties according to the different inclinations of the persons. Julia having made a proposition to that purpose, and represented that walking, wanted that freedom and divertisement when there were a many together, which it had when there is more privacy. For my part I was resolved not to leave Octavia, who began to direct her course towards one of the principal Walks, and my Sister Antonia was as resolved to keep me company. It was, I must confess, no small satisfaction to me, that Drusus came and joined with Tiberius, to lead me, as well upon the account of the many excellent qualities I observed in his person, as also that I thought it much better, being between the Brothers, than alone with Tiberius; besides that I cannot deny, but that I found something in Drusus' discourse, which in some measure took off the tediousness I met with in that of his Brother, and consequently was satisfied as to the good opinion which all the World had of him. He was in very good terms with Marcellus, as to the difference there had been between them concerning their loves to Julia; insomuch, that he not only forbore all visits to the Princess, but it was visible in all his actions, that he had given over all thoughts of her, and sought nothing with so much earnestness as the friendship of Marcellus. Besides, though he sided as much as he could with his Brother, as in point of honour he was obliged to do, yet did he not press his interest very much to me, and knowing the aversion I had for his Brother's addresses, and the respects I had for those of Coriolanus, he said very little to me of his Brother, and spoke nothing to the disadvantage of his Rival. 'Twas this day that he entertained me with abundance of things that were infinitely pleasant, and his Brother maliciously putting him upon some discourse concerning Julia, he spoke of her with so much modesty and reservedness, but withal with so much wit, that I had from that time a greater esteem for him then I had had before.  
After us came Antonia, led by Archelaus and Mithridates, but the Emperor having sent for Archelaus, as having some business to communicate to him, Mithridates stayed alone with Antonia, to his unconceivable satisfaction. This was it he had soughtout, of a long time, and what he could never find before; and accordingly being a person infinitely confident, he would needs make his advantage of it, attributing the silence he had for some time observed to want of opportunity. And yet all his confidence, though summoned together upon this occasion, stuck not so close to him, but that for some minutes he was at a loss what to do as to the design he had to discover his thoughts, and Antonia on the other side was so terrible upon all occasions of that nature, that she was able to make the most assured of their strength, to tremble. However he took heart in his resolution, and falling into discourse about the departure of Archelaus; I never made it any question, Madam, said he to her, but that Archelaus entertains whatever orders come from Caesar, with all the respect and compliance that may be; but for this last, I believe it hath been received by him, with a disturbance equal to the satisfaction it hath bred in me. I cannot apprehend, replies Antonia, the cause of either his discontent or your joy, nor see in this accident any occasion either of the one or other. For Archelaus, replies Mithridates, you cannot certainly but know how unkindly he takes it to be absent from you, since you are not to be now acquainted with the passion he hath for you: and for Mithridates, you may well imagine what joy it is to him to have the honour to wait on you alone, when I have once told you that he is involved in the same chains with Archelaus.  
These words of Mithridates made Antonia blush for very indignation, though from some circumstances she was satisfied as to some part of that truth; but she would needs pretend that she understood not his meaning, and so seem the less incensed against him, whereupon reassuming the discourse with an action full of disdain, I know not, said she to him, what you mean either by the chains or passions of Archelaus, but am satisfied, that were he conscious of any thing which I should take amiss at his hands, the respects he hath for me are so great, that he would keep it from my knowledge. Ah Madam, replied he, is it possible, that you who pretend so much to a real sincerity, can so peremptorily affirm that the King of Cappadocia hath never entertained you with the affection he hath for you? If ever he did speak to me of it, replies the Princess, it matters not, I gave no credit to what he said, and that for me to do so, was the greatest advantage he could ever hope from such discourse; for after all, when he had done what he could to persuade me that he had an affection for me, I should possibly have persuaded him in my turn, that I should be subject to a quite contrary passion for persons, whose affections make them forget the respect they ought to observe. For matter of respect, replies the Prince of Comagenes, I must acknowledge, it ought to be had for you while life lasts, and that the least violation thereof deserves the severest punishment; but for a man to be so far from being wanting in point of respect, as that he only presumes to discover a love, which for the greatest part consists in respect itself; does he deserve those lightnings and thunderbolts which you cast at the guilty? and must a man needs be exposed to your indignation for telling you, that he hath an adoration for you, equal to what he hath for the gods, as he should be to that of another person, whom he had done some affront to? The case is the very same, replies the Princess very roundly, and in my opinion, there should be no distinction made between such adorations and affronts. How Madam, cries out Mithridates, it seems you allow no difference between the effects of Love, and those of Hatred? When those of Love are importunate and troublesome, answers Antonia, I think them more insupportable than those of Hatred, and, such is my humour, I should sooner pardon an affect of Hatred in my enemies, than an expression of Love in those that call themselves my Friends. Ah Madam, replies the Prince with an action full of earnestness, if it be so, I shall advise the unfortunate Mithridates not to tell you till at the last gasp, that he dies for you, and I shall beseech you for the future to read in his eyes what you forbid him to declare with his tongue.  
Mithridates had no sooner pronounced these words, with a submissive look on the ground, but Antonia casting her eyes on him, with an action full of fierceness; Mithridates, said she to him, I am now satisfied that you take me for ........ at which word making a sudden stop, haply to correct what the hastiness of her thought had almost forced into her mouth. No, no, said the Prince, interrupting her, no Madam, I do not take you for Julia, for it was of her that you were going to speak, and the gods are my witnesses, that though truth itself, and the passion I have had for that Princess, might well oblige me to speak advantageously of her, yet must I acknowledge that I find no resemblance between you. It was from my intention, replies Antonia, to say any thing of Julia: I conceive it an honour to be any way like her, and am persuaded she gives as little entertainment as I do, to such discourses as that, you have entertained me with: but whether that it be so or not, if I have deserved this unhappy adventure for the pains I have taken to make you some answer on an unbeseeming subject, merely to avoid the like for the future, since I cannot take down your confidence, I shall deprive you of the occasions, and you shall talk to me in another stile or never see me again.  
Mithridates at these words, notwithstanding his great confidence was somewhat at a loss, and knew not what answer to make her, when the incensed Antonia having pronounced them: and walking a little faster to overtake us, Sister, Sister, said she to me, stay for us, and give us leave to be of your company, and participate of your discourse.  
These words falling from her somewhat disorderly, were enough for me to guests at the truth; so that when she was come up to us, I could not forbear looking on her with a certain smile, as if I understood by her countenance that she was really angry. Coming to our side, Drusus, who was next her, very respectfully presented her with the hand he had at liberty, and Antonia having with as much civility received it, we walked all five abrest, after Octavia and Maecenas, who were some few paces before us, and often engaged in our discourse. Tiberius and Drusus talked in a manner all the time, and though Mithridates was a person sufficiently inclined to discourse and mirth, yet came there not many words from him all the day after. I could not forbear smiling when ever I looked on Antonia, who was extremely troubled at it. But what was most pleasant of all, was, When we were gotten out of the spacious walk to go into others that were narrower, which lie next to the little Rivuletts, and wherein there cannot walk above three abrest; for Drusus being in the middle of the five, and just between my Sister and me, we were both desirous to keep him; Antonia, to be exempted from the discourse she was so willing to avoid, and I, because I would not be alone with Tiberius, and accordingly upon these several considerations we both drew Drusus with us at the same time, and to make him the more sure to us, wrung him hard by the hand.  
That action surprised him a little at first, as not being wont to be so treated by us, but a while after, being a person infinitely ingenious, he apprehended our meaning, and could not forbear laughing at it. He was a while in suspense which side to take, telling us that he wished himself the fate of Aristocles, with abundance of other things, very witty and pleasant; but at last, he decided the controversy, somewhat to my disadvantage, for he left me, because he would be alone with Antonia, but telling me withal very wittily, that he was a better Brother then for to deprive Tiberius any longer of my discourse, and that he would wait upon Antonia, who had not the same engagements to Mithridates, as I had to his Brother. Mithridates' blushed at this discourse, and was forced though with much discontent, to accept of Drusus' company: but not long after, being come to a place where several walks crossed one the other, we met Julia, Agrippina, and Marcia, with Marcellus, Domitius, Crassus, and young Ptolomey our Brother, and saw coming on the other side, the Emperor with Terentia, the Empress, Marcelia and divers others, so that Caesar having given order that all the Company should rally, all met together at the end of one of the walks in a spacious vaulted Arbour, open on three sides, and having at the three openings, three springs casting up water higher than the roof of the Arbour. There it was that the music expected us, and that the most excellent voices that Rome could afford, joined to all the Instruments requisite to make a noble consort, gave us a very delightful divertisement. After the Music, which lasted not above an hour, all went a walking again, and walked till night; but this second time, every one endeavoured to avoid being of their Company whom they could not affect, so that Mithridates being deprived of the company of Antonia, who did all she could to shun him, stayed with Drusus, Crassus, young Ptolemy, and others, who came not near the Ladies for all that day.  
When the day began to dis-lodge, and resign its place to darkness, we were all brought into a spacious Bower, so covered over with the boughs of trees whereof it was made, that the violent rays of the Meridian Sun could hardly find any passage into it: but that night it had such an excess of light, that it might be said it never knew a greater day, that is, that of a thousand torches fastened to a hundred sumptuous branches sparkling with gold and precious stones, which hanging down from the boughs of the Bower, produced the noblest effect in the World, and enlightened a magnificent Theatre that had been set up at one end of it, and upon which the successors of the famous Roscius entertained the Company for two hours.  
The Comedy being ended, we went into another Bower, not far from the former, and enlightened after the same manner, where we were entertained with a magnificent collation; and that also over, the rest of the night was spent in dancing. Archelaus danced with Antonia, whom Mithridates durst not come near all the night. Polemen danced with Marcelia, and had a long discourse with her, and our Brother Ptolemy, with the fair Mantia; but after a manner much different from that of the other. For Polemon having an extraordinary passion for Marcelia, who, for her part was not any way moved thereat, and did not much mind the expressions of Polemon's affection, and Ptolemy naturally averse from love, unless it were that of his libetrty, was little moved at the beauty of Martia, though she were so well furnished that way as to make an impression on souls that were most insensible, and had naturally no aversion for Ptolemy, but lived with him by the directions of Octavia, as if they had been Brother and Sister. For Domitius and Agrippina, their conversation was full of freedom, and whereas the pretensions of Domitius were generally countenanced and encouraged, and Agrippina a person of a disposition easily satisfied, her affection accordingly met with few traverses of fortune, and so her mind had little to struggle withal. Marcellus and Julia were in the height of familiarity, in regard no man disputed her with him, and that he himself had made his peace with her, as to the difference they had had together about the love of Drusus; and for my part, I had my hands full of Tiberius, who made all the advantage he could of the absence of Coriolanus but the most pleasant part of the story was a dispute raised by Cypassis, between Ovid and Horace, who had waited on her all that day, and who, upon a very nice and ticklish question, said things worthy the admiration of all the World. The greatest part of the night being thus spent, it was thought time to retire; whereupon the whole Company being disposed into Chariots, every one went to, what was then most desirable, Rest.  
I know Sister I have not done well thus to digress, or at least there was no necessity I should give you such a particular description of that days walking and entertainments, and it is ot unlikely you expected to hear of some extraordinary accident somés way relating to this History. But this short relation of the divertisements of that day, (whereof I have given as brief an account as I could) may be thus far advantageous to you, as to make you better acquainted, as well with the persons, as the little intrigues that then were in the Court of Augustus, and I have been so much the larger out of this consideration, that it was this day that gave birth to some things which have since come to pass of very great consequence. My Sister Antonia and I had lain together for some few days before, and were extraordinary kind one to another, as being engaged in a friendship that allowed as little separation as could possibly be. As we were undressing ourselves that night, I fell into discourse about what had happened between her and Mithridates, and though she was extremely loath to make me acquainted with it, yet at last not able to stand out against my persecutions of her, she gave me a punctual account of all the discourse she had had with him, as I have related it to you already, and discovered so much indignation in the recital thereof, that notwithstanding the sadness which then lay heavy on my heart, I could not forbear laughing at it, andto torment her with discourse about it. But the occasion I laid hold of to do so, was yet more handsome: when as she put off her clothes, there fell, out of one of her sleeus, a letter that had been hidden there, and which was no sooner fallen to the ground, but I took it up, and having with a great curiosity looked on the superscription, I found written in a hand that was unknown to me. (To the fair Antonia.) I had no sooner eyed that superscription, but presenting it to her, and obliging her to read it, she was extremely at a loss, and perceiving her amazement to be so great as hindered her from speaking, Sister, said I to her, you have not dealt freely with me, since that having acquainted me with the particularities of Mithridates 's affection, you conceal from me that of another more fortunate Servant of yours, from whom you receive letters. These words put her into a sudden blush; but having soon after recovered herself, Sister, replied she very soberly, I shall not vindicate myself to you, and I think you know me better than to believe that I receive letters from any one. And yet you see, replied I, that this is very truly directed to you, and that he that writ it, hath been so much afraid it should miscarry, that he would needs put your name in the superscription in very fair Characters. For that, replies Antonia, be it on the account of his discretion; but that he hath been so fortunate in his design, as that it should be known it was directed to me, is all the satisfaction it will bring him, and assure yourself, I am satisfied with the bare superscription, and have no desire to see any more of it. Not but that I am persuaded it comes from Mithridates himself, who will needs accomplish what he so confidently began, It being not so likely that Archelaus should have any hand in it, since he talked with me all the evening, and that I cannot believe every day should produce persons guilty of such an excess of confidence. However it may be, said I to her, if you are not resolved to conceal it from me, you will give me leave to read it. You may as well let it alone, replies Antonia, but it would argue in me a distrust of my own strength, should I forbid you to do it if you are so resolved. I therefore opened the letter, and began to read aloud these words.  
Since that in your judgement there is no distinction to be made between adorations and affronts, and that you think the effects of hatred more supportable than those of love ........  
Now, Sister, say; Antonia interrupting me, was I not in the right, when I told you it came from Mithridates, and are they not his own words in the discourse that past between us? So far, said I to her, I agree with you that Mithridates is the Author of it; but let us see what follows, and comfort yourself so far, as that there is no new affront offered you in this letter, since it acquaints you with nothing but what you knew before. Antonia being of the same opinion, heard me with much more quietness of thought then before, so that I began it again, and found in it these words.  
SInce that in your judgement there is no distinction to be made between adorations and affronts, and that you think the essests of Hatred more supportable than those of Love, those who are destined to affront you, since they are only such as are born to adore you, ought either to conceal the offence from you, or keep the offender out of your knowledge. For my part, fairest Antonia, I am the greatest of your Enemies, since that I am of all mankind the person that hath the greatest affection for you, and I tell you that confidently, which I should not without trembling, were I not unknown to you. You have seen and know the person, while yet you were ignorant of his passion; but now that the passion is discovered, it is but fit the person should be concealed, that only his Love may be exposed to your indignation. And since it is only Love that you hate, and not the persons that are inclined to love you, if it be possible to engage the aversion you have for it, with such good success as that you may be entreated to be more favourable to it, those who are guilty of no other crime, will appear before you in a less odious posture, when their crime is pardoned, or at least connived at by your indulgence. The most guilty of all those that commit any offences of this nature against you, seeing himself reduced by your inflexible maxims, to a cruel necessity of either holding his peace, or concealing himself, stands in suspense at the choice he is to make, which though it be, in appearance, fantastic, yet is in its consequences rational enough, nay haply generous enough, since that he cannot be charged with any consideration of his person, but only of his love, and that it is to induce you to bear with his Love, that he addresses himself to you, and not to engage you to any affection towards his person, which he conceals from you, and which he shall conceal, haply, as long as he lives. Pardon him this innocent surprise, which he intends your rigour, and let only your Beauty engage against him, in a case wherein, to punish the rashness of his attempt, it wants not the assistance of your cruelty.  
As soon as I had given over reading, I looked on Antonia, who at the same time cast her eyes on my face, with certain discoveries of astonishment, not inferior to what I was in myself. In a word, we were both equally surprised, and whereas we inferred from the first words of the Letter that it came from Mithridates, we concluded from the sequel, not only the quite contrary, but were persuaded withal, that the person who had writ it, had never made any expression of his love to Antonia, and that in that Letter he took occasion to make the first discoveries of it. 'Tis true we were somewhat distrustful as to that opinion, when we reflected on the first words, which were the same she had said to Mithridates, and could not apprehend how they could come by chance so pat into the imagination of the Unknown Lover; but for all the rest, it had so little relation or consistency either with the humour, former proceeding of Mithridates, or the terms wherein he was with Antonia, that we were satisfied it must needs be some other, and one that either out of curiosity or concernment in the business, might have gotten behind the trees that were on both sides the walk, wherein the discourse had passed, and listening attentively to what was said, had heard some part of it.  
Being agreed in this opinion as the most probable, we fell into discourse upon the adventure; so far, that Antonia thought there was some thing in it so full of surprise, and so extraordinary, that she could not be angry at it, as she had been before at the confidence of Mithridates. We searched among all the men I have named to you the person we could with any likelihood suspect; but though it was out of all question that it was one of those that had passed the day with us, yet after we had examined them all one after another, we could not fasten on any one whom we could charge with it. Divers of them had come near Antonia, as well during the Comedy, as while they danced, and at the Collation; but of all those that she could remember had had any discourse with her, there was not any whom we knew not to be otherwise engaged as to matter of affection, or to be much a wanting in point of ingenuity, to carry on such a piece of gallantry. When we had discoursed almost to weariness about it; Who it may be, it matters not, says, Antonia, he puts himself to a great deal of trouble to no purpose, and if he deprive me of the object of my indignation, by concealing his person from me, he also deprives himself, continued she laughing, of the acknowledgement I should return his affection by not discovering himself. Ah Sister, said I to her, how well is this man acquainted with you, and how true is it, that if you were as ready to make acknowlegdments, as to be transported with indignation, he would have taken a course quite contrary to what he hath; but, be he what he will, I do not only think him extremely ingenious, but I believe he may carry on his design very successfully, and dare pass my word that you have a less aversion for him then for Mithridates and others, who have been so confident as to discover their passions to you. I acknowledge no less, replies Antonia, and am of your mind, that if I never know him while I live, I shall never while I live know whom I ought to hate. How ever it may be, replied I, 'tis out of all doubt, this man hath Understanding, and in that understanding something that is great, and signifies very visibly that he is a person of eminent quality, we shall know him when he shall think it fit ........ And, I hope, added Antonia, interrupting me, that, if he be a man of his word, we shall never know him. In troth, replied I, my mind gives me, I should be extremely troubled at it, and must confess this untrodden way of proceeding hath raised in me a more than ordinary curiosity. We should have had abundance of other discourse upon this adventure, but it was so late, or rather so near day, that we were loath to sit up any longer, so that going to bed a little after, we soon fell asleep.  
For some days ensuing, (though it might well be thought, that the misfortunes of my own life, being at that time such as found matter of discontent enough, should have lest me but little curiosity) I made it my earnest business to find out whom that Letter should come from, nay seemed to be much more concerned in the business than Antonia herself, who looked on all these things with the greatest indifference imaginable. And what much heightened my inquisition, was, that me-thought the adventure argued somewhat so far beyond the ordinary way of proceeding, that contrary to my natural inclination, I was extremely desirous to see the issue of it. But all the little inquiries I made, proved ineffectual, for I never could come to the least discovery of any thing; with so great circumspection had that person managed all things in order to the design he had to continue still unknown, though he omitted not any that might demonstrate the earnestness of his passion for Antonia.  
In the mean time, Ptolomey our Brother (the only Brother Fortune had left us after the loss of Alexander, who was gone to find you out in Armenia, and of whom we had not the least account in the World) lived in Augustus' Court, after such a rate as gave all that knew him occasion to conceive very great hopes of him: but as to matter of inclinations the greatest he seemed to have, were those of his Liberty, nay, though he daily waited on the ●●●rest Ladies about Rome, and was extremely well entertained by them, yet could it not be inferred from any action of his, that he had a particular devotion for any. He was a great Lover of Arms, Horses, and all Exercises of the Body, and had a singular dexterity therein; but, to sigh or pine for a Beauty, was a thing inconsistent with his humour, as being a person naturally inclined to be free and cheerful, and avoided as much as could be all distraction of thought. The virtuous Octavia, who still persisted in the generous design she had taken to make the best provision she could for the children of Anthony, and imagined she could not do it any way better than by bringing them into the family and alliance of Caesar, being now out of all hopes to effect her desires first in the person of Julius Antonius, and not long since in that of Alexander, who was looked on as lost as well as our Elder Brother; conceived it might be brought to something in Ptolomey, and wished his inclination directed to Martia, a Lady courted by the greatest persons among the Romans, and, to speak modestly of her, one that had very excellent parts. Ptolemy made no difficulty, to entertain that Princess with all the civilities she might expect from him, nay, discovered somewhat of particular affection for her, suitable to the good intentions of Octavia: but indeed his flames were come to no great height, though Martia were a person infinitely lovely, for having a freedom of access to her every day, his deportment was accordingly full of cheerfulness and indifference. It was much otherwise with Martia, and though she were of an exemplary virtue and modesty, yet must it withal be acknowledged, that she is subject to much tenderness of mind, and having been brought up with Ptolomey, as with a person on whom her mother had cast her eyes with a design to make him her Husband, and lived familiarly with him as with Marcellus, that fraternal friendship, which, with the names of Brother and Sister, Octavia would needs have continued among us, had made a greater impression in her mind, than well stood with the serenity and quiet thereof, so far as that she was no longer able to withstand the lovely qualities of that Prince, which out of all doubt had wrought much more upon her inclinations, than hers had upon those of Ptolomey I had, not without much dis-satisfaction, taken notice of it myself, and several times chid my Brother for his back wardness in his acknowledgements of the sincere affection of Martia: but the young man, of an uncontrolled humour, would make some shift to put me off, telling me that he loved and honoured Martia, as he was obliged to do, and that he should be well content to give her the greatest assurances she could expect of the devotion he had for her; but for melancholy, disturbances of mind, and reservedness, he looked on them as the destroyers of his happiness, and making good what he said in his actions, he was indeed very punctual in doing her all manner of civilities, and acknowledgements, nay so far as to express a more particular affection for her, than for any other. Yet was it observable withal, that it was done with a certain discovery of much freedom of mind, which argued in him such a mediocrity of inclinations, as that he would not, to wait on her, abate any thing of his enjoyments, nor let slip any occasion that offered itself, to be among the Ladies, whose company could afford him aught of diversion. Martia, who is of a very mild disposition, endured this indifferent manner of behaviour a long time, without the least discovery of any discontent thereat: but at last, looking on it as an evident expression of his coldness and negligence, she began to be troubled, insomuch that the grief she conceived thereat, wrought some alteration both in her humour and countenance. All the World took notice of her sadness; but the motive thereof was absolutely unknown: and Martia, who made it her business to conceal it what she could, had haply smothered it to this day, if I had not casually made the first discovery thereof.  
During the time that her melancholy grew more and more prevalent upon her, taking occasion to give her a visit, and finding her alone, I entreated her of all love to acquaint me with the cause of her sadness, which troubled not only all that knew her, but myself more particularly, who (as I was for many considerations obliged to do) had a more than ordinary affection for her. My caresses were answered by Martia, after an indifferent and evasive manner, yet such as betrayed much grief and resentment. Very loathe she seemed to be to give me any satisfactory answer, and would say no more than that she knew not any cause whence her sadness should proceed, and that it must be derived from her temperament or some indisposition of Body. But I, not satisfied with this answer, reproached her with a want of sincerity, and was pressing her to discover her mind more freely to a person whom she might trust with any thing, when Ptolomey comes into the Chamber. His first appearance wrought such an alteration in her, that her colour changed several times of a sudden; and having casually cast my eyes on her countenance, I could not but immediately take notice of the alterations which my Brother's coming in had wrought therein. From this discovery I might well guess at some part of the business, and was in a manner persuaded that Ptolomey had contributed much to the change of that Princess' disposition.  
This reflection made me take more particular notice of her deportment than I had done before, and I observed, that while Ptolomey stayed with us, she was at such a loss, that she found it some difficulty to speak. His visit was indeed but very short, for having stayed about a quarter of an hour with us, he told us, we were too sad for his company, and that he would go to Sabina's, where Virginia, Hortensia, Telavia, and several other Ladies were met, and where he hoped to find more diversion. Whereupon going out of the room, he left Martia so much troubled both at his words, and manner of departure, that the most dis-observant person in the World might have perceived the disturbance of her thoughts, by the trouble it raised in her countenance. I must confess I was myself much surprised at Ptolomey's deportment, and angry with him for it, and havingwithal observed Martia's affliction thereat, I was so much the more earnest to look further into the business, out of the desire I had to serve & oblige her, if it lay in my power. To which effect reiterating the caresses and entreaties to her some few minutes before, I conjured her by all the friendship that was between us, not to conceal from me any longer what her heart was so much burdened with, assuring her that that curiosity in me proceeded not from any thing but the desires I had to serve her in that conjuncture, proportionably to the affection I had for her. But I could not get a word from her, and instead of some answer, there fell from her eyes some few tears which she could notpossibly keep in any longer, and which she would have concealed from me by turning her head to the other side. That discovery raised in me all the compassion I could conceive at such an accident, and thereupon putting my cheek to hers, with an action that argued the tenderness I had for her, What Sister, said I to her, can you be so cruel as to conceal from me the cause of a grief wherein I concern myself so much or have I so poorly deserved your affection, that you have so little confidence of mine? I durst trust my life in your hands, replies Martia, nay any thing else that I thought more precious; But why will you engage me into a discourse, whence you will infer nothing but my fondness and extravagance? Or if you have any opinion of my prudence, why will you not rather advise me to do all that lies in my power to preserve it? I am so well satisfied as to that particular, replied I, that I shall never conceive otherwise of you; and that is the reason I am so importunate with you, as knowing, that I shall not understand any thing from you, which must not confirm me in the confidence I have thereof. It argues the greatness of my obligations to you, replied the Princess, but be what will the issue of it, I cannot have the courage to acquaint you with my weakness, and I think I satisfy the duty of our mutual friendship when I promise you to acknowledge it, if you guess the cause thereof. Since you afford me that freedom, said I to her, and consequently give me some ground to believe you will approve of that my disccourse, May I not ask you, whether the young Prince, who now left the room, be not in some measure the occasion of your melancholy, and whether his being wanting in the service he owes you may be some cause of your being dissatisfied with him?  
Upon these words, Martia, being not any longer able to smother the confusion she was in, nor the blushes that spread through her countenance, leaned herself against my shoulder, and wring one of my hands between both her own, with the greatest discovery of passion that could be, Sister, said she to me, with much difficulty, I am not worthy the services of Ptolomey; nay it is not unlikely he conceives it so, and by his deportment towards me, you may easily judge, that I am not to flatter myself with any great hopes of him. I must confess that, having entertained the first addresses of his affection, by the commands of those who have the disposal of my inclinations, and that having possibly been too implicitly dutiful to Octavia, I cannot quit the hopes I had conceived thereof, without some affliction, and this is the confusion, this is the fondness. which I neither durst, nor aught to have discovered, but the reliance I have on your friendship perswades me, that you will not let it go any further, nay, that you will conceal it even from Ptolomey himself, who obliges me not to this tenderness for him, while he hath so little for me.  
These words, falling from her with that mildness which is absolutely natural in her, gave my heart a more than ordinary assault, whereupon embracing her with a certain excess of affection; Sister, said I to her, Ptolomey is happy, infinitely beyond his deserts, if I may measure his happiness by these discoveries of your affection towards him; nay I am confident, that had he but the knowledge thereof, he would cast himself at your feet, begging your pardon for all the faults, which through the inconsiderate sallies of youth, he may have committed against you. He were unworthy all countenance of fortune, if he entertain not this as the greatest which Heaven could favour him with: but I am to assure you, as I have had it thousands of times from his own mouth, and see it in his heart, that he hath for you the greatest sentiments of passion and respect he can have, and if that he be wanting in the demonstrations he ought to give you thereof, it is to be attributed to the impetuosity of his greener years, which time will so settle, as that you will be the only object of his devotions for all the rest of his life. I shall not acquaint him with any thing of what you have discovered to me, but as from myself make him sensible of his omissions of duty, and I dare promise you to bring him at your feet, as penitent and as reform in matter of inclination as he ought to be, and your virtue deservs. With these words, and what else I said to her, I appeased Martia, and further representing to her, that Ptolomey deserved not so great expresons of her good will, and that it was but fitting he should not be acquainted therewith, lest it made him too insolent, I by degrees so laid that mild nature, that I brought her to a resolution of not grieving any longer after that manner, and that she would reassume her former freedom and pleasantness of conversation.  
In the mean time, give me leave to acquaint you with the adventure, which the same day happened to Ptolomey, and prepare yourself to hear a very strange accident. He went to Sabina's, as he told us he would, where a great many Ladies met, and among others, besides those he had named to us, Helvidia, Sulpicia, Emilia, (whom I made mention of in the adventures of Julius Antonius, & who was some years since married to Scipio) and with her that inexorable Tullia, who had been the cause of the loss of our Elder Brother. After the death of Caecinna, and the deplorable accident I have already related to you, she retired to Tusculum, where she continued six years, without ever coming once to Rome; during which time Cicero, her Brother, had made his abode in afric, where he was Proconsul; but being not long before returned to Rome, he had brought his Sister with him, which to effect he had used all the authority he had over her, otherwise she had still continued her solitude. 'T was not above three days before that she came to Rome, where she was thought as beautiful as when she left it, though she were then about three or four and twenty years of age, and had a sufficient measure of affliction to cause some alteration in her beauty. Her dress was not after the exactness of the mode, yet neat, and there was in her countenance such a conjunction of sweetness and majesty, that Ptolomey, who had never seen her before, immediately took notice of her more than of any of the rest. At his coming in, the company was gotten into a long Gallery, where they were looking on the pieces that were hanged about it, yet so as they were divided into parties, according to the difference of pictures more or less inviting them. Ptolomey was not expected in this company, and if Sabina had had any notice of his coming, she would not have had Tullia there, though she were of her most intimate acquaintance: but he being of a quality that won him a welcom-reception every where, and that the excellencies of his person recommended him no less than the rank he was of, he was very kindly entertained, so far as that some part of the company came about him at his entrance into the room. Being a person of a majestic look, a noble carriage of body, and a deportment infinitely taking. Tullia immediately observed him, not without surprise, and she viewed him with such a look as discovered, that, notwithstanding his being Anthony's Son, he seemed such to her, as could not raise her aversion. Now she being the only person in the company to whom he was unknown, she asked one that stood next her, what his name was; which she had no sooner heard, but there rose such a tempest in her countenance, that the alteration happening therein was observed by all those that looked on her. She was once in a thought to leave the company, whereupon coming up to Emilia; and whispering her in the ear with some disturbance, What, said she to her, can the World afford me no place of refuge against the Children of Anthony? Emilia, who was troubled at the accident, made her no immediate answer; but Sabina, as Lady of the House, coming near her to make excuses for what was happened, and to let her know that she was as much surprised at Ptolomey's arrival, as she was, told her withal, that he was a person of such quality, as not to be forced out of the house. Whereupon Emilia, having somewhat recovered herself, entreated her not to make any disturbance in the company, and to remember herself that the too public discoveries she had made of her aversion for the children of Anthony had produced effects but too too deplorable; that she might stay in the room, yet not engage herself into any particular conversation with Ptolomey, and from that day avoid all opportunities of meeting with him; that she would undertake, that Ptolomey should not endeavour any acquaintance with her, and that she knew so much of his humour, as raised in her a confidence that he would not be guilty of those importunities towards her, which his Brother had been. Sabina added her entreaties to those of Emilia, and both together prevailed so far with Tullia, that they persuaded her to stay with them as long as the rest did.  
In the mean time, Ptolomey, who, upon the first sight, had taken notice of Tullia's beauty, and had further observed some part of the trouble which his presence had raised in her, and some thing of what had passed in that part of the Gallery where she had retired, being in some impatience to know the name of that beautiful person, asked it of Albinus, who, making no difficulty, to give him an account of her, filled him with astonishment. He retreated some few paces, as somewhat amazed, and looking on her more attentively than before; What, said he, is this the same inexorable Tullia, that terrible Beauty, by whose means we have lost our Brother? At these words he stopped, running over in his mind thousands of things which presented themselves confusedly to his imagination. The relation had been made of the insupportable treatments which our Brother had received from her, and the sad effects they had produced, raised in him such bitter resentments against her as made him abhor her as an over-cruel enemy; And though he were not ignorant of the reason she had to defy all communication with our house, yet was it his judgement, as well as of a many others, that she was excessively violent against a Prince, that had given her so great assurances of his love, and who, as to his Person, was very amiable and much respected. He had often wished a meeting with her, to see, as he would say himself, what making that terrible person was of, and to try, whether his soul were so immalleable, and consequently not able to resist the influences of her beauty better than that of Julius Antonius did. But Tullia being not returned to Rome, and that there was no expectation of her coming thither, he had quitted all hopes of it, nay, lost all remembrance of her. At last, having recovered himself out of the first astonishment he had conceived at the rencontre, he fortified his heart with more fierceness then ordinary, summoning all his indignation, to avoid a fate like that of his Brothers. But he stood not in any need of that assistance, for, whether it proceeded from the prejudice he had against her, or from a certain Antipathy, he was not guilty of the least inclination for her, and accordingly looking on her with a scornful smile; Arm thyself, said he to himself, with all the charms of imperious beauty, thou shalt not treat me as thou didst my Brother. He was at first in a mind to be gone, as being unwilling that his presence should cause any distraction in a company whereto he had not any invitation; but not long after perceaving, that all were satisfied with his being there, and that Sabina herself was not troubled at it, he resolved to stay, as thinking it no discretion to deprive himself of his enjoyments, to do the enemy of our house a pleasure, and being not much troubled at the spite he thought he did her by his stay.  
Being a person infinitely master of himself, he immediately reassumed his ordinary pleasantness, and while the conversation lasted, there fell from him the most ingenious things he had said in his life, and that with such a grace, that all the company admired him. Even Tullia herself was as attentive as any, could not forbear looking on him, and sound, to her grief, that her indignation was not so violent, as she had wished it might have been. They spent the time in several recreations, they danced, they had a collation; and as Ptolomey was the most sportive, the most pleasant, and, out of all doubt, the handsomest person in the company, so did he accordingly, in the dancing, and all the other entertainments, draw the eyes and ears of the present after him. He sung, he danced with abundance of grace, nay, he would needs that day make the greatest ostentation he could of himself, purposely to put his enemy out of countenance, and to let her know that the children of Anthony, were not so contemptible as she would by her example have persuaded the World. His intention as to some part proved effectual, as to the rest, it produced effects much different from those which he expected it should. He spoke to all the Ladies that were present, several times, Tullia only excepted, whom yet he treated not with any incivility, or did any action that might disoblige her, as well out of a respect for her sex, as upon Sabina's account, thinking it enough to be at some distance from her, as it were to make show of respect, and the fear he was in to displease her. He looked on her often, and he observed her eyes were in a manner always fastened on his countenance. He at first conceived her looks to be such as proceeded from indignation, but afterwards he was satisfied there was nothing of hostility in them, and that her eyes darted no more rigour on him, than any other of the company. That observation made him the more self-conceited, insomuch, that having that day resolved to be confident even to a degree of insolence, whispering Lentulus, who stood by him, in the ear, yet without turning his eyes towards Tullia, whom he would by no means offend; Pray give me your opinion, said he to him, with a pleasant kind of presumption, do not you perceive, that that cruel enemy of ours, who treated our elder Brother with such rigour, honours us with her looks? I have taken notice of it, as well as yourself, says Lentulus to him, and you would think it very strange, if, instead of the aversion she hath for your house, she should have a contrary passion for you. I should indeed be extremely astonished at it, replies Ptolomey, but if it should be the pleasure of the gods that such a thing should come to pass, I protest to you I should revenge my Brother. How, added Lentulus, taking him to the window, that they might not be heard, would you behave yourself barbarously and inflexibly towards a Beauty that had an affection for you, and would act the part of Tullia towards her, if she acted towards you that of Julius Antonius? I have not hitherto, replied my Brother, been any ways in a condition to exercise my cruelty, and when things shall come to the pass that you speak of, I shall not be guilty of those scorns and incivilities towards Tullia, which she was towards my Brother, because it is impossible I should ever be exempted from that respect which I owe her Sex. But I would have her to know, that that destiny, rather than his own reason, which forced my Brother into the extremities of blindness and extravagance, hath not the same influence on me, and that there can but little love be expected from me for a person guilty of so much aversion for an innocent Prince, and one so eminent as Julius Antonius was.  
While Ptolomey broke forth into these expressions, and chafed himself into exasperation by the sight of that female enemy of his, there passed things of a quite different nature in the soul of Tullia; insomuch that though that Beauty did all she could to heighten her detestation against Ptolomey, yet that passion, disarmed of its main strength, was so far from contributing any thing thereto, that it seemed of no force at all, and whether it were that she saw in the person of Ptolomey, (son to Cleopatra, and not to Fulvia, who had been Cicero's implacable enemy, and much more the occasion of his death than Anthony) but one half of its object, or that she submitted to some unknown power, she refused to obey in that emergency, and felt herself disposed of all that before had kept up her spirit with so much constany. In a word, to speak of her modesty, Fulvia could not hate Ptolomey, though possibly she was not free from a desire to do it, she hearkened to him, and looked on him as favourably as on others that were present, she was one of the last that withdrew; and when the Company was dissolved, she did not express the least dissatisfaction at that meeting, nor betrayed by any action or look, the least aversion for the person of Ptolomey.  
In the mean time, I, having left Martia; retired into my own Chamber, where I was no sooner got, but Antonia comes in, and coming to me with a countenance divided between a desire of laughing, and some inclination to be angry; Sister, said she to me, I have somewhat to make you merry withal, and since you find so much diversion in an adventure I take but little pleasure in, I love you too well to conceal any circumstance from you, which may add any thing to your satisfaction. I have spent this whole day at the Empresse's, where were all the most eminent about the Court, five or six only excepted that were at Sabina 's, and this evening as I came away, I found a Letter in my handkerchief, and cannot imagine by what means it should come thither without my knowledge; and since I think it out of all question that it comes from the same unknown person you wot of, I thought fit to bring it away with me, that you might have the full satisfaction of it. Having with these words put it into my hands, I took it without making her any reply, and having opened it, sound therein these words.  
To the fair ANTONIA.  
I Have seen you this day, and found you brighter and more beautiful than the star from which we derive our light, and have participated of the excellencies of your conversation. You have seen me, you have looked on me favourably, nay, such was your goodness you have given me leave to entertain you with as much freedom as any of those that were present, nay, what is yet more; there were some not so well treated as myself, and whose condition I have been far from envying, as to any thing hath happened this day. Hence you may see, fairest Antonia, what advantages I make of the resolution I have taken to conceal from you the name of your enemy. Had you known me to be that criminel that durst presume to adore you, and sticks not to tell you so, I should have been thrust away with as much contempt as Mitaridates, and have been as discontented as Archelaus, whose fortune hath not been much better. But in regard you could not either in my countenance, or yet in my designs perceive the least discovery of what I have in my heart, you have looked on me, and treated me as an innocent person, though I really were the most guilty of all the company. See then, incomparable Princess, whether I am any ways to be blamed, for putting this trick upon you, and pardon it me, since that, of all those that ever were done, it is the most innocent.  
No question Sister but it is, said I, having read out the letter, and delivering it to her; he deserves to be pardoned for there never was any thing of surprise or circumvention more excusable than this. That then is your judgement, replies Antonia, but for my part, I am not absolutely of the same, and there is haply in this artifice much more malice and designy on can suspect there may be in it; I can see nothing but abundance of respect and care to avoid the occasions of displeasing you. But Sister, added I, can you not suspect any one of all those you have seen to day? The number was so great, replies Antonia, that I know not on whom particularly to fix my thoughts, for there were present Agrippina, Maecenas, Marcellus, Domitius, Tiberius, Drusus, Crassus, Aemilianus, Cinna, Cepio, Pollio, Flavianus, Servilius, Polemon, Archelaus, Mithridates, Varus; and, besides these, all of the most eminent quality in Augustus 's Court, so that among so many, it were impossible for me to make any certain judgement.  
Our discourse had been longer upon this subject, had not Ptolomey come into the room, and put us from what we were then upon, with what he had to say of another accident had happened to him. For he had no sooner set his foot in the Chamber, but crying out to me, as it were in a transport of joy, I have seen her, Sister, said he to me, I have seen that terrible one, I have seen that inexorable Beauty, and thanks be to the gods, she hath done me no hurt. These words, uttered by him with a certain precipitation, gave me not any light to guess at the adventure had happened to him, nor was it likely I should have imagined any thing near it; but Antonia having asked him what it might be, he related to us how he had met with the cruel Tullia, at Sabina's, how he had passed away the whole day with her, and in a word, gave us a particular account of that meeting, even to the least circumstances. I was extremely troubled at the relation, to see that inflexible beauty, as it were newly reviving, by whose means we had lost our Brother, and was afraid some unfortunate accident would have been the effect of her return, which I had no sooner discovered to Ptolomey, but he made thousands of protestations to me, accompanied with oaths that there was not any woman in the World which he should not affect rather than Tullia, though he could not deny but that he thought her very handsome, & was persuaded she had abundance of worth in her, I was overjoyed at those assurances; as well because I could not by any means affect Tullia, after the loss of a Brother, such as she had forced away from us, as because I was desirous that Ptolomey should have been at the service of Martia, not only for the extraordinary perfections of that Princess, the affection she had for him, and the respects I had for her, but also out of a consideration of the advantages of Fortune which must needs have followed upon that alliance, such as he had all the reason in the World to embrace. From that day I took occasion to discover my thoughts more and more to him, and to represent to him what obligations he had to Martia, Octavia, and herself; and, seconded by Antonia, I made him so sensible of all things, that, though he was not much subject to make over-serious reflections on things, yet he promised us to devote himself absolutely to Martia, for whom he had an infinite esteem and affection, and whom he would never give any occasion to distrust his constancy: insomuch, that giving her a visit that very night, he made thousands of protestations of his fidelity to her, and that with circumstances so full of ardour and obligation, that she was extremely satisfied therewith.  
The very same night, the unknown servant of Antonia entertained her with a Serenade, consisting of certain instruments, and the best voices in the World. But, we two lying together, Antonia said it might be as well intended for me as for her, and that among the voices she knew some to be of the Emperor's Music, whom none but Tiberius could employ; but it was long since Tiberius and I had expressed ourselves one to another by Serenades, so that Antonia was at last persuaded to the contrary, when, after a Dialogue which was sung in several parts, the whole Music joined together to sing these words which we heard distinctly, and which I could not but remember, as having been sung three or four times over.  
T' express his Love, the Lover is  
Unknown, t' appease an angry Fair,  
Can you not pardon him that dies  
A crime of Love for to repair?  
There needed but these words to take away all contestation between Antonia and myself, insomuch, that since it was out of her power to remedy it, she resolved, though not without much trouble, to endure the persecution. I could not forbear laughing at the disturbance she was in, and no question but I might have found a great pleasure in the adventure, had my thoughts been subject to a certain innocent mischievousness, wherein persons of our age find themselves no small diversion. But, besides that I have a natural dis-inclination to any such thing, the misfortunes of my life have abated very much of my cheerful disposition; and if it might be thought that I had at that time some favourable intervals upon the news which came to Rome of the great successes of Coriolanus, who with his sword opened himself a way to reascend the throne of his Ancestors. I became on the other side more and more suspected at the Court, and it was already threatened I should be secured, as indeed I was, not long after, as I have related to you already.  
There were already five or six days passed since there was a general expectation in Rome of a divertisement which the Emperor was to have upon the Tiber in one of the fairest nights of the Summer, to express the love he bore Terentia, as it was reported, where by the means of certain artificial fires of the invention of the Greeks there was made, in above a hundred several figures, a new day upon the Tiber, wherein, because it is not of itself broad enough for such a kind of divertisement, the Emperor hath caused a new channel to be made below the City, which is six times broader and deeper than the ordinary current: so that with that light multiplied by that of a thousand torches, disposed along the banks on both sides, there was seen a little sea-fight. wherein a great number of small boats, made after the manner of men of War, and all covered over with artificial fires, crossing and engaging one the other, according to the order agreed on before, entertained the Spectators with one of the most delightful sights in the World. The pleasure of the eye was seconded by that which was provided for the ear by the sound of thousands of war-instruments, which raised an echo from the banks of the River for above a hundred Stadia about, and which instead of a confused noise, made an harmonious sound with much art, which, smiting the ear, inspired the most vigilant with a certain joy, and raised the spirits of the most dull. And whereas the boats that are up and down the Tiber are very little, especially in the ordinary channel, and that there was requisite a vast number of them to receive those persons that would participate of the divertisement, people were forced to divide themselves into small parties, and for the most part there went but five or six persons in every boat. This was it that gave occasion and birth to a thousand designs of gallantry, and obliged the young Romans to prepare boats for the Ladies they were servants to, the most sumptuous could be made for the time. Tiberius had provided for me a very magnificent one, and Archelaus another for Antonia, with abundance of entreaties that she would vouchsafe to accept of it; but we, having no inclination to engage ourselves into the company of such persons, had resolved before hand to take a boat for Antonia, Martia, and some others of our own sex, under the conduct of Ptolomey, who had taken that charge upon him, and should have waited upon us.  
But while we were hot upon this resolution, comes a person of a goodly presence to speak with Antonia, and to acquaint her that the Empress had provided a boat for her and such of her Friends as she should be pleased to take along with her, and had sent him to conduct them to it; and to take care for all things requisite, during the time of that night's divertisement. Though Antonia knew not that Officer of the Empresse's, yet thought she that she could not with civility refuse what was proffered, and knowing her to be naturally imperious, she was the more afraid it might displease her, if she made any difficulty to accept of it. Whereupon turning towards me, as it were, to ask my advice, and perceiving my compliance with her intentions, she returned the man an answer to this effect, That the Empress did her too great an honour, but that since it was her pleasure so to dispose of her, she received that favour with the same respects which she ought to have for all those that proceeded from her goodness; at which words Martia and Ptolomey coming into the room, and having confirmed her in that resolution, desired to be of our company, and we took also along Sulpicia and Hortensia, who were come to give us a visit. All the rest of the house had disposed of themselves as they thought fit; Marcellus had prepared a boat for Julia, & waited on her; Domitius had done the like for Agrippina, and Agrippa for Marcelia. Octavia stirred not out of her Chamber, where I would have gladly kept her company, had she given me leave to do it. We went along with that Officer down to the riverside through the Garden, and at the door the boat waited for us, which we got into without being able to take notice of the sumptuousness of it, by reason of the obscurity of the place, which was not yet enlightened. But we were scarce got in, ere the torches were all lighted of an instant, insomuch that we were not a little surprised as well at the suddenness of the light, as the objects that presented themselves to our sight, which certainly were the most delightful that can be imagined.  
The boat was in the form of a little Galley compassed about by a row of Pilasters, which seemed to be of gold, but was indeed of wood guilt; without which hung out a hundred arms gilded as the row of Pilasters, which sustained a hundred great torches of virgin-wax, whereby the darkness of the night was removed to the distance of many stadia. The oars seemed to be of gold proportionably to all the rest, and the Rowers were twelve little Cupidswinged, armed with arrows and quiver, and covered with cloth of gold in those parts of their bodies where it was not requisite they should be naked. At the extremity of the stern grew up a golden tree, of the height of an ordinary mast, having at the top the form of a Scuttle, compassed about by a row of golden Pilasters and twelve arms proportionable to those below, wherein were twelve torches, and in the midst of all that sight was a Heart hanging down, which seemed to be all on fire, and out of which, by some strange artifice there visibly issued flames ascending up towards the stars, and made more light than all the torches. In the distances which were between the torches were hung up twelve Streamers, which were tossed up and down by the flames, and the smoke a thousand several ways, and in which by reason of the greatness of the light, there might be distinctly seen double A. A●s with other Characters, expressing several ways the word ANTONIA. The same Letters, and the same Characters were disposed up and down all over the boat, as also upon the Pilasters, the oars and the mast, and it was so lightsome every where, that the least things could not be more distinctly discerned than they were at that time.  
But if we were so much surprised by what we were entertained with, on the outside of the boat, we could not but be so much the more, when we were brought into the chamber that was within it, where we had no sooner set foot, but our sight was dazzled with the lustre of the gold and other embellishments, wherewith it sparkled again. Where ever there was any gold to be bestowed, it was with the greatest profusion imaginable; and where there was any necessity to heighten the richness of the matter, by the perfection of art, all was done with admirable dexterity, but with this every where observable, that the Characters of ANTONIA were scattered up and down all places. The ground work and the ceiling had the same, and the hangings, the chairs and the cushions were of sky-coloured Velvet, intermingled with flames of gold in embroidery, as also burning Hearts, Characters of Antonia, and the first letters of her name. This little Chamber was admirably enlightened, and perfumed with the most delightful scents that Arabia could afford: and what was yet a greater convenience, (which was, that we might without stirring out of the Chamber, participate of that night's divertisement, and might be seen by all those that were upon the Tiber) that part of it which was covered by the hangings, was only of glass, so that as soon as those, which were made curtain-wise for that purpose, were drawn, the river lay open to our sights of all sides, the Chamber itself was visible to all that were in the boats, and the light that was scattered by so vast a number of torches as were disposed about our Galley, and which enlightened the Chamber falling upon the glass, as well without as within, made such a fire on the river, as sound light for all the other boats, and seized with astonishment all those that saw it.  
You are not I believe, Sister, much in doubt whether we were much surprised or not, when we found ourselves in that little enchanted vessel, and you would be soon persuaded that we had been deceived, and that it was not to the Empress that we were obliged for that magnificent lodging. Antonia looked on me, not knowing what to think of those things, and I could easily perceive in her countenance that she was to seek as to all resolution, and that she was vexed to the heart at the trick had been put upon her She looked all about for that Officer of Livia, but he was vanished as soon as they were gotten into the boat, so that there was only the Cupids that rowed, left for her to wreak her indignation upon.  
In the mean time, which way soever she looked, she met with her own Characters and the Letters of her name scattered up and down amongst the burning hearts, and what she was most of all troubled at, was, that the very same Characters were exposed in the streamers at the topmast, fluttering as it were amidst the flames of that burning Heart, and, by reason of the great light whereby they were encompassed, were visible to all that were upon the River. The vexation it was to her to see herself engaged with that passion which she had so much aversion for, had put her out of patience, if Ptolemy, Martia, and myself had not laughed her into a good humour, and told her, that if the same thing had happened to us, we had entertained the adventure with abundance of enjoyments, By this means did we make a shift to dispel the clouds of her melancholy, and disturbance, and considered at lesure all those rarities which we could not have discerned at first sight.  
But this was not our employment alone, for this great fire, and that admirable object which it discovered, had hardly appeared on the waves of Tiber, but all the boats left the places they had taken up, to come nearer to that which they wondered at so much at a distance. The Torches, the Hearts, the Streamers which were, from the top of the mast, remarkable on all sides, immediately drew all the World to it; insomuch that the Emperor himself, surprised at this sight as well as others, caused his own boat to approach it. At first the report went from one to another that it was Antonia's Galley, so that all coming as near as they could to Antonia's Galley, there could hardly be any thing else heard on the water, but Antonia's Galley, and the greatest part were resolved only to follow it not minding much the other divertisements, for which they were assembled. The Emperor, Livia, Marcelia, Julia, Agrippa, and all the most considerable persons having compassed it about not without astonishment, Augustus asked who had bestowed that magnificent Galley on Antonia? To which the Princess not knowing what to imagine could only say that she had received it from the liberality of the Empress. Livia began to deny that she had made her any such present, which the Emperor hearing, told her she needed not take such pains to vindicate herself, and that it was apparent from all signs and circumstances that that excess of gallantry and magnificence proceeded from the invention and prodigality of some Lover. But while all these eminent persons were assembled about the Galley, six of the Cupids, who were the Rowers, coming into the Chamber, drew the hangings, and discovering through the transparent walls thereof what was within the Chamber, filled all that were present with a new astonishment, and all the places about with a new light, which both near and at a distance was the most delightful thing that could be seen.  
I shall not trouble you with any further particulars of that night's entertainment, the description I have already made thereof having been haply too long, and therefore shall only tell you, that, when all had sufficiently admired Antonia's Galley, and had spent a long time in talking of it, had almost tired themselves in guessing at the Author of so sumptuous an invention, and had celebrated this sight beyond those that were to succeed it, they all advanced towards the place where they were to be entertained with the sea-fight, and the artificial fires, doing our Galley the honour to follow it, as if it had been the Leader of them, the lights of all the others being as much darkened by ours as the smaller stars are by the rays of that bright Torch whence we derive our day. I shall not give you any description of that night's divertisements, which it must be confessed were not unworthy Caesar's magnificence; but shall only tell you, that when all was over, and that it was thought time for all to retire, Julia coming into our Galley, together with Marcellus, Agrippina, Domitius, Marcelia, and Agrippa, (for Tiberius, seeing that I had refused the boat he had prepared for me, thought fit upon point of resentment to continue still in Caesar's, and accordingly never came near us) and having seated themselves about the Chamber upon chairs, the floor or planks that were under them immediately opened, and we, frighted at it, began to cry out, for fear the boat should sink, when there rises up from below a table covered with as magnificent a Collation as ever could have been served among the Romans, not excepting the sumptuous entertainments of Lucullus; nay, such it was, that Agrippa and Marcellus, who were not wont to wonder at great things, were astonished at the magnificence and the neatness of it. In a word, what ever came to Rome from foreign and remote Nations that were most rare and exquisite, was there, and that heightened admirably by art: but, what most troubled Antonia, was, that what modes or forms soever the services were of, or what figure so ever they were disposed into, (wherein there had been more than ordinary care taken) the Characters of Antonia were scattered up and down amongst the burning Hearts, after the same manner as they had been all about the Vessel. This stirred up their curiosity afresh, to find out who this servant of Antonia might be, insomuch that Marcellus having acquainted Agrippa with what he had received from us, they sought and guessed a long time, but after all could not fix on any person whom they could with any probability affirm to be the man. But I shall trouble you with no more as to that: we made an end of our Collation, we went away with the rest of the Company, and retired with matter enough for discourse as to that adventure, but what was most pleasant of all, was, that, abating the trouble which Antonia conceived the reat, we undressed ourselves, she found another Letter in one of her sleeves, though she thought she had made sufficient provision against any such thing. I was hasty enough to read it, and found the words of it to be these.  
To the Princess ANTONIA.  
YOu see then, fairest Princess, how much I am obliged to artifice, and how I effect that by stratagem, which I should never compass by open hostility. You have granted the Unknown Lover, what you had denied Kings that were professed Lovers; and though he be obliged for this good Fortune to the name of Livia, for which you have had so much respect, yet is he much more engaged for it to his own industry, and the confidence he had to effect his design. You will pardon me that I have entertained you in so poor a place, since I acknowledge I cannot conceive any noble enough to receive you, and cannot wish you any other than that Heart which you saw burning this day in the public Sacrifice I have made thereof to you. In a word, my Fortune, whatever it may be, hath been envied this day by all that is great and eminent in the Empire, whence I derive a certain hope that it will one day be envied by all that shall think themselves the most fortunate in the World.  
I cannot, said I, having made an end of reading the letter, but acknowledge, that this man, what ever he may be, is an extraordinary Gallant, a great wit, and inexpressibly magnificent. I grant you all that, replied Antonia, but you must acknowledge withal, that there is a certain spice of extravagance in his design, and that all the pains he takes will amount to nothing. That I cannot tell you, replied I, nay methinks I already perceive he hath effected some part of his intentions, for in that he hath declared to you at the beginning, that there is no other reason of his recourse to this artifice, then to induce you to endure the name of Love, and to reconcile you to that passion, which you avoid as a Monster, because you are not acquainted with it, you must needs acknowledge that he hath already prevailed with you, to endure, not only the discourse, but all the expressions of it, much beyond what you had suffered in all your life before, and, in a word, that you have held a greater correspondence with love, since you first entertained the addresses of this one Unknown Servant than you did upon those of all the rest put together. Ah Sister, replies Antonia very roundly, what inclinations do I derive from what you say to hate him the more! and yet how true is that which you have observed, and I must with shame acknowledge it to be such! But if it be possible, I will remedy it one way or other. What remedy can you think of, said I to her, while you are kept in this ignorance? This man is haply of such a nature, that he will not discover himself while he lives, and though we may very well from the transcendency of his thoughts and attempts, infer the greatness of his birth, yet may it not possibly be such, as may furnish him with confidence enough to declare himself. Since we are fallen into this discourse, Sister, says Antonia, I am to acquaint you, that not many days since I found, in one of my Gloves, another Letter which I purposely forbore to show you by reason of some discontent that you were in that day concerning Tiberius; but kept it nevertheless, that it might be communicated to you, for you know that I mind them only in order to your diversion. No, said I to her smiling, 'tis because you would have me no farther acquainted with your secrets; at which words perceaving she had found the Letter, I took it from her, and read out of it these words.  
To the Princess ANTONIA.  
THough my name ought to be concealed from my Princess, till such time as she hath pardoned me the injury I have done her to prevent all suspicions that may be conceived against an unknown person, yet is it lawful for me to let her know (and I ought to do it in order to my justification, though it may be with some prejudice to my modesty and reservedness) that my person is not disliked by those whom I have addressed myself to, that I am not without some esteem, or without some name in the World, and that my birth and fortune are such, as whence I may well derive an encouragement to serve her. In fine, my love is that which she might most disapprove in me, after the protestation she hath made herself, that the person was not hateful; and from this defect it is that I hope for greater advantages than I can expect from either birth or fortunes.  
This letter furnished us with more matter of discourse and imagination than all the rest; but at last, having done all we could, we resolved not to trouble ourselves any further, and to expect with patience what might be the consequences of that adventure. Ptolomey, to whom I had given one of the letters, had made it his business to inquire all about, whether there were any such hand among those persons of quality, and never could meet with any that came near it, Marcellus had done the like, but to as little purpose. All that passed before had made no great noise, but the Galley occasioned abundance of discourse, insomuch that for many days after, the talk of all Companies was of the magnificent Galley of Antonia. The King of Cappadocia taking occasion to make a modest complaint to her upon her refusal of the boat which he had provided for her, told her she had very much reason to slight that, when she expected another that was so magnificent. But Antonia satisfied him as much as lay in her power, telling him that it was not for its sumptuousnesle that she had preferred that Galley before his boat, nor yet out of any other consideration, than that it had been proffered her in the Empresse's name, from whom she neither could nor ought to have refused it. Archelaus, a Prince of a disposition easy to be pleased, was satisfied with that answer; but could do no less withal then conceive abundance of jeal ousie against that Unknown Lover, whose presents were preferred before his and resolved to do all that lay in his power to discover him. Mithridates was as earnest in the same design as the other, and though he had been slighted by Antonia in such a manner, that, notwithstanding his great confidence, he durst hardly open his lips before her, to entertain her with any thing of his love, after the discovery he had once made to her thereof; yet was not his passion quite smothered, nor his jealousy inferior to that of Archelaus. Being therefore both unfortunate, and their loves encouraged by little hope, jealousy had not produced in them its ordinary effect amongst Rivals, and had left in them friendship enough to visit one the other, and to communicate part of what they thought one to another; so that having mutually acquainted one another with the desires they had to discover who that Unknown Lover might be, who had made such signal demonstrations of his gallantry towards Antonia, they resolved to join their endeavours to that purpose, and not to leave any thing unattempted to find out the truth.  
Many days passed ere any one came wherein they could discover any thing, though they had their spies in all places, and oftentimes took occasion to walk themselves in the night about Octavia's Palace, out of some hopes they might meet with him, not doubting but that he might have some haunt thereabouts, especially at the time that he was wont to entertain her with Screnades, which he had done several times. At last, after abundance of fruitless enquiry, fortune would needs have it, that, one of those nights wherein they were both together on horseback, without any other company than that of certain slaves, who were asoot, coming into the street into which our Chamber looked, they heard the sound of certain instruments and voices, making an excellent consort almost under our window. They made no question but they had met with what they sought after, as knowing that Tiberius had given over entertaining me with serenades, that since the departure of Coriolanus, there was not any person in Rome that had discovered any inclinations for me, and that the lodgmgs of Agrippina, Marcelia, and Martia, were in another part of the Palace at a good distance from that; besides that, they also knew that the Unknown Lover had given divers others before, and that, having not the liberty to express himself as others did, he took occasion to discover his intentions by demonstrations of gallantry of that nature.  
The two amorous Princes, not doubting but that they were in the right, resolved not to let slip the opportunity they now had to be informed of what they were so desirous to know, and to attempt any thing rather than not to effect their design. They caused no torches to be brought with them, not only out of a desire to avoid being discovered, but indeed that it was but too light for their design, and that the Moon being then in her full, any thing in the streets was easily discernible. Being thus light, they were no sooner come into our street, but they perceive a man on Horseback, who leaving the place where he was, as soon as they came in sight, went to the music, and bid them give over and disperse themselves as soon as they could. From this action the two Princes immediately inferred that it must infallibly be the Unknown Lover; and being absolutely resolved to make all the advantages they could of that accident, they came on further into the street, and passed under our windows, where they could neither hear nor find any body. They made a little halt to listen, and, whereas the man they had seen on horseback could not conceal himself as they could that were on foot, and that the horse must needs make a great noise going upon the stones, they could easily both hear and see him at a certain distance before, endeavouring what he could to get away. They on the other side as carefully pursued him, and passed through many streets, following him still by the noise, and seeing him before them. The Unknown, perceiving their resolution to follow him, put on somewhat faster, and made towards the most solitary streets, so to get out of their sight: but that stood him in no stead, for they followed him every where, with so much obstinacy, that they gave him at last some ground to imagine, that it would be a hard matter for him to get off. At length, having forced him into a street, at the other end whereof he saw several Torches and Chariots that might hinder his further passage, he made a stand, and, turning toward those that pursued him, took one side of the street, as it were to give them the way. But they rid up to him, and Mithridates, opposing the design he had to make an escape, Do not hope, said he to him, to get hence, or to avoid us, if thou dost not discover thyself; and therefore tell us who thou art, if thou wouldst have thy passage free to be gone.  
The Unknown person retreated some few paces at this action of Mithridates, and having reflected a little on what he had to do, he set spurs to his horse, and quick as lightning fell in between the two Princes, who were very near one the other, and rushing on Mithridates, who was on his left hand, with all the violence he could both of himself and his horse, (which was one of the best in the World) and at the same time as he passed by, laying hold with his right hand on Archelaus' bridle, he, with the shock of his horse, overthrew Mithridates' horse and man to the ground; and, with that he gave Archelaus' at the same time, made him stand upright, in such manner, that the Prince falling backwards, and holding still fast by the bridle, overturned the horse upon himself.  
Their fall proved shrewd enough, and their condition such, that they found it no small difficulty to get up again, especially seeing that they were not attended by any, and that the slaves they had brought with them, being on foot, had lost them in the several turnings they had made. At last, they made a shift to rise, not a little bruised, and, going with some difficulty, approached one another with no small confusion. For, all considered, they were not so much troubled at the fall they had received, or the hurt occasioned thereby, as that they had been so treated by a single person, and one they had forced to that action by their own unsatisfied pursuit. They stood a while looking one upon the other, as not being able to find out terms fit to express what their hearts were burdened with; but at length, Mithridates, as being the most eager and impatient, was the first that spoke, and expressed the resentment he had of that adventure in words full of fire, and visible demonstrations of his fury. Archelaus endured that unfortunate encounter with more moderation, and told Mithridates that there was no more happened to them then what they had deserved, and that ordinarily there was no other satisfaction to be given to curiosities that were so near a kin to indiscretion.  
At last they with much ado got up on horseback, and returned to their lodgings, where having gotten into their beds, they were forced to keep them for some days. Mithridates, for his part, extremely troubled at the adventure, was desirous to conceal it; but Archelaus, being a person more inclined to sincerity and freedom, and whose proceedings, in the affection he bore to Antonia, were more clear, made no difficulty to acquaint all those that came to visit him with the truth of the business, so that the very next day, it was generally known, and was become the subject of all men's talk. We soon understood it from Tiberius and Ptolemy; and the perpetual discourses, which all entertained Antonia with about it, added very much to the disquiet she was in before. But what troubled Mithridates more than all the rest, was a Letter that was brought to Archelaus, and which Archelaus sent him, as soon as he had perused it himself, as having been directed to both, whereof the words were these.  
To KING ARCHELAUS and PRINCE MITHRIDATES.  
I Am much troubled at the small misfortune that hath be fallen you, though, out of a desire of your own satisfaction, you were yourselves the occasions of it; and since I am no enemy of yours, though I have done some hurt, I should have wished your curiosity a slighter punishment had you left it to my choice. You may hence learn to beware how you hereafter pursue, with so much violence, those that would avoid you, and remember that you are to make a bridge of gold for a retreating enemy. If you are chargeable with no crime but curiosity, disburden yourselves of it, as being a vice whereof you will find the inconveniences to be far greater than the advantages; but if you are withal guilty of Jealousy, learn, that Jealousy is a self-disturbing passion, whereof the effects are ever dangerous, and elude the expectation. Besides it is not much for your reputation to be jealous of a person that's unknown to you; and did you know me, you would haply find, that I am too much below you to do you any prejudice. In a word, whatever I may be, assure yourselves I wish you no other hurt than that you may see me more fortunate than yourselves in the service of ANTONIA, and this declaration of mine considered, I shall entreat you not to take it amiss, if you see me among those that come to visit you.  
This Letter had been delivered to one of Archelaus' Officers, by a man that as soon as he had done, was vanished, and could not be seen after; as having gone his ways without being observed by any one, so that the two Princes were still in the same ignorance they were in before. They were both very much nettled at it, though in a different measure, according to their several dispositions, and if Archelaus was more moderate than Mithridates, yet was he not less moved at the satirical stile of his Rival. The last words of the Letter were those that troubled them most, and they thought that fantanstick circumstance of their adventure the most indigestible of any, that among their Friends that came daily to give them their visits, they were to expect him that had put them into the condition they were in, and who haply might prove him, they thought the most endeared, and could the least suspect. This reflection made them look on all that came to see them with a certain distrust, and taking it for granted that their Rival was of that number, they sought him among them without any distinction, and that possibly sometimes where they were the most unlikely to find him. They fell into discourse with all those that came to them upon that accident, and observed their countenances while they talked to see what inferences they might draw thence, but all proved ineffectual. For Archelaus and Mithridates being persons that for their rank, their virtue, and the respects which the Emperor had for them, were very considerable among the Romans, there were few among the Families that were most Illustrious that came not to visit them, so that a midst so great a number, they made fruitless inquisitions for that which in a lesser they might possibly have discovered. Archelaus hath told me since that he was never at such a loss in all his life, and that, fearing he might see the face of his Rival in all those that came near him, his thoughts were in such a a distraction, that for some minutes he could not make any return to their civilities: and for Mithridates, he looked on all as enemies, though his resentment was directed to one single indeterminate person. A few days recovered them of the hurt they had by the fall, and with the pain, they forgot part of the affliction they had conceived thereat, their thoughts being now taken up, (as were those of all the most considerable persons about Rome) with preparations for the solemnity which was celebrated every year on the day of Augustus' birth, on which the people were divertised by all sorts of exercises and shows, and at which time, the more to honour the Emperor, the Romans outvied one another in point of gallantry and magnificence towards the Ladies.  
In the mean time Ptolomey, whose inclinations for Martia were not so violent as to deprive him of the divertisements he was addicted to, among other designs of pleasure, wherein he was every day engaged, went one day with many other persons to walk in the same Garden of Lucullus', whereof I have given you so large an account already. Having slipped away from his Company, to enjoy more privately that of young Lentulus, whose humour, of all his friends, he found the most consonant to his own, and desirous to discourse with him about divers things which they mutually communicated one to another, they sought out the most solitary walks, as being resolved not to join their company for some time. As they passed through one of the most remote from all company, they perceaved, at a good distance from them, two Women, who seemed to them to be of a very goodly presence, and though they were alone, yet the sumptuousness of their habit, which they could perceive glittering, easily argued them to be persons of quality, who seeking solitude as they did, had left their attendants in some other part of the garden. These women were coming towards them: but as soon as they had eyed them at such a distance as it was impossible for them to know one another, they turned aside into another walk, and continued their solitude. These two young men, having a more than ordinary curiosity, and whose thoughts were employed in their pleasures wherever they were to be had, were suddenly possessed with certain desires to know who those two women might be; and their shunning of them adding to their inquisitive, they resolved to follow them, and, if possible, to know who they were. To that end they went into the same walk where they were, and had soon overtaken them, if the Ladies, having perceaved them, had not avoided meeting with them, by turning aside, and passing over one of the Bridges, to get into some of the little Isles that are made such by the Rivulets, and wherein there are in several places green Arbours, made of the boughs of trees twisted together so thick, that when the Sun darts down his most perpendicular rays, they can hardly find a passage through them.  
Having observed the way they intended to take, and satisfied of the design they had to avoid all company, they bethought them that without an excess of indiscretion, they could not be so troublesome as to follow them any longer. But they on the other side having resolved, out of a curiosity natural to young people, to have a sight of them, and that the goodliness of their persons had very much advanced their desires of it, took notice of the way they took, with a design to meet them by other turnings, which they were not unacquainted with, which yet they might have done without any bodies perceiving what game they were in chase of. Accordingly, having traced them through divers trees that lay between both, they at last saw them go in to one of the little Isles, and made no question but they would go and rest themselves in one of the Arbours. They thought it their best course to give them the time to do so, and so having taken a good walk, they made towards the Isle by other ways, and passed over another bridge than that by which the women had gone in. They were no sooner got in, but coming behind one of the Arbours, on a certain side at which they could not be discovered, they heard the voice of a woman singing in the Arbour and, making a halt, to give her the greater attention, they found her admirable, not only as to the voice, but also as to the skill whereby it was not a little heightened. They at first heard her at some distance, out of a fear of making any noise to interrupt her; but afterwards perceaving that they had much ado to hear the words, and confident withal, that if the noise did not discover them, they might go quite to the Arbour, without any danger of being seen, by reason of the thickness of the branches and leaves which admitted not any passage for the sight, they went as softly as possibly they could, and came to the Arbour time enough to hear these words, which were the last that were sung.  
He's now (alas?) o'ercome that would not own.  
But still defied Love's charms and power;  
O may my eyes my heart's dear loss bemoan,  
And let their tears its shame devour,  
That slave-like yields to passion.  
The Lady concluded her song with a deep sigh: and her companion, who had harkened to her with great attention, had no sooner perceived that she had made an end, but addressing herself to her, and speaking loud enough to be distinctly heard by the two Eavesdroppers that were without the Arbour; But is it possible, said she to her, and must I believe it, my dearest Tullia, that, that god, who, as 'tis generally conceived, directs and disposes of the amorous passion, should take such extraordinary vengeance on you and that to punish you for the Cruelty which you sometimes exercised, not without injustice, upon a Prince that adored you, he should infuse into you a kindness, nay, if I may presume to say it, inspire you with a love for a Prince that does not so much as think on you, and one, that, though born of the same blood, yet, hath not any thing of those inclinations towards you which his Brother had?  
These words were no sooner heard by Ptolomey and Lentulus, but they withal perceived, by the voice, that it was Emilia that spoke them, and could not be ignorant, having heard her name pronounced, that they were addressed to Tullia. They were both equally surprised thereat, and Lentulus looking on my Brother with eyes, wherein were visible not only his astonishment, but all that he would have said upon so unexpected an adventure, had they been in a place where they might have discoursed without any fear of being discovered, grasped him by the arm, as if by that action, and other gestures, he conjured him from making any noise, and to hear attentively as well as himself, a discourse, wherein, if he were not mistaken, he thought himself very much concerned. Ptolomey was willing enough to comply with his desires, so that, continuing in the same posture they were in before, they heard Emilia reassuming the discourse; Speak, my dearest Tullia, said she, and since I am the only person in the World whom you think fit to entrust with a secret that is so near your heart, ease your spirits as much as you can, by acquainting me with what you would conceal from all but Emilia. We are now where all things favour our design, so far that the Sun itself, did he shine, could not participate of the secret that is between us, and all things promote the solitude we seek. Do yourself therefore no further violence, my dearest friend, and open to me that heart, which being heretofore hard and impenetrable to all love and compassion, does now submit to the same passion against which it was armed with so much rigour.  
While Emilia was speaking in this manner, Lentulus had found a way, by turning the leaves aside, to make a little passage for his sight, and as good fortune would have it, he could through that little place direct it just upon Tullia's face. By this happy means had he the opportunity to see the face of that Beauty, leaning on the shoulder of Emilia, bathed with certain tears, which issuing out of her fair eyes, ran down along her cheeks, and dropped into her bosom. With one of her arms she embraced Emilia, in the other hand she held a handkerchief, wherewith she wiped the tears which she could not forbear shedding. Her hair was in a loose and negligent posture, and all her gestures spoke a certain remisseness but all that negligence, all that languishing did but heighten her ordinary beauty, insomuch that there seemed to Lentulus to be much more lustre and divinity in it than he had ever observed before.  
He further perceived that after she had with some difficulty prevailed with herself to comply with the solicitations of Emilia, assuming the discourse with an action wherein were easily remarkable all the expressions of sadness and confusion: Why will you oblige me, said she to her, to repeat to you what my eyes, what my heart, what my mouth have already acquainted you with? Are you so much in love with my grief, as to be delighted with the unhappy demonstrations I give you of it? Or would you have me, out of a reflection upon so many acknowledgements as I have made of my unhappiness, weakness and cowardice, to die for shame and confusion before you? If it must be so, my dearest Emilia, I am content, and since you are, and ever shall be, while I have a minute to breathe, the only person to whom I shall discover my misfortune, I am willing my most secret imaginations should pass out of my heart into yours, and wish you may be moved with pity for the misery which my inflexible destiny hath forced me into. I say, my destiny, Emilia, for it is that only that I can justly charge with all the misfortunes I am fallen into. Do not imagine it any effect of the celestial vengeance upon me for the rigour I expressed towars Julius Antonius. Though I have contribted very much to his absence, and am charged as the occasion of it, yet have I not been troubled with the least remorse for any deportments of mine towards him. Being Cicero 's Daughter, I could not upon the first addresses of his affection to me, be obliged to entertain any such thing from him; and reflecting on the death of Cecinna, whom, being to be my Husband within three days, he killed in my sight, upon my account; I was certainly dispensed from whatever the expressions of his love might require of me in his favour. And yet, the powers of Heaven are my Witnesses that I never hated him, that I never wished him any ill fortune, that I have acknowledged his great worth, and that I do at this day confess, notwithstanding my present sentiments, that he is as great as to point of merit, and as amiable as to his person as Ptolomey is himself. So that there is no ground to imagine that the gods should inflict all this as a punishment of my cruelty; but that it proceeds merely from my destiny which in this emergency acts against me, as it hath done through all the misfortunes that have happened to our house.  
But my dearest Tullia (replied Emilia) since you would not be flattered in your passion, may it not be represented to you, that the same reasons which you alleged against the love and merits of Julius Antonius, before he became an impardonable criminal by the death of Cecinna, might with much more ground be urged against the affection which you have conceived for his Brother; since that, not being obliged to him for any the least demonstration of love, you cannot but look on him as the Son of Anthony, which he is, you know, no less than his Brother? I am, no question, replied Tullia, obliged by the same reasons to do the one as the other, at least in some part, (for yet I might tell you, did I stand upon my justification; that Ptolomey is not by his birth such a criminal to us as his Brother was, since that he is Son to Queen Cleopatra, who contributed nothing to the death of Cicero, and not to Fulvia, who alone engaged Anthony in that design, and exercised her cruelty upon the body of my Father, even after death, by a many abominable indignities) but such was my misfortune, that I could not make use of them, and I need not tell you, that in those of this nature, the assistances of reason are not always infallible. You may further argue, that I have hardly seen Ptolomey above once; that he is a Prince younger than myself, by five or six years; and a person that neither does, nor haply will love me while he lives. All the answer I have to make to these Objections, is, That my misfortunes are so much the more to be bemoaned, and that the rather, out of a consideration that I have not contributed any thing thereto myself, and have endured this violence to tyrannize over my heart, without the least compliance of my will. Pity me then, if you please, Emilia, and charge me not with an offence which I see no reason I should take upon me. 'tis not in the power of either Virtue, or the Study of Philosophy to make us uncapable of passions, but only teach us how to struggle with them; and if they have not been able to make good the little garrison of my heart against the assaults of that which now disturbs my quiet; they will so weaken it, as that it shall not produce therein any effects that may slain my reputation at the present, or my memory hereafter. I have been able to look on the Son of Anthony, but it seems under an unhappy constellation which made me indeed but too sensible of what I thought amiable in his person: I have been able to preserve the remembrance of it too dearly for my own quiet; I cannot think of him without tenderness, I can speak of him with delight, I can communicate my sufferings to you, I can sigh, and, as you see, weep and bewail, this sad exchange of my condition. But this, Emilia, is all that this destructive passion can work in my soul, so that all the tempests it is able to raise there, shall not eclipse those lights of wisdom, which it is not in the power of any blindness to extinguish. I can pine away, yet conceal from all the World, Emilia only excepted, the reason why I do so; and if I must endure, even to death itself, I can easily do it, not only rather than open my lips, but rather than become guilty of a wish that should any way slain my reputation, or cast a blemish on the former part of my life.  
But, when all is done, replies Emilia, to speak sincerely, could you not wish that Ptolomey loved you, or can you with all your Wisdom and Philosophy, oppose such a wish? To this Tullia could not for some minutes make any positive answer; but having a little after shaken off that suspense, and reassuming the discourse with a certain blush, wherewith Lentulus could perceive her face all covered; The desire of being loved, said she, by that which one loves, is a thing so natural in us, that I durst not tell you, that I did not wish myself loved by Ptolemy; but you are withal to assure yourself, that this wish is so innocent as not to injure my virtue: nay I must add thus much, that though it should prove effectual, yet would not my condition be any thing the more fortunate, and that Ptolomey himself, though he should love me, should not know while he lived that I ever had any affection for him. I should avoid him as an enemy, though he were dearer to me than my own life; nay though it shoúld cost me this very life, I should keep, to the last gasp, from the knowledge of all the earth, those sentiments which have broke forth to that of all the Romans.  
But what is then your meaning, replied Emilia, what course do you intent to take, in order to your own quiet? To die, answered the Daughter of Cicero, to die, my dearest Emilia, if occasion require; and I am very much unknown to you, if you imagine, that I think my life so considerable as not to sacrifice it to preserve my reputation. But I shall do what lies in my power to struggle with this enemy that hath possessed himself of my heart, and if the strength and assistances of heaven, which I daily implore, prove such as that I may not gain the victory, you shall find, Emilia, whether I have not learned to die, rather than be guilty of faults which might make you blush for my sake. I have acquainted you with the secret of my heart, because there hath not been any transaction there which you have not known; but did I imagine it should come to the knowledge of any other person in the World besides yourself, I should think one hour along time to survive the shame I should conceive thereat, and you should bestow on my death those tears, which compassion obliges you to shed, to accompany those which my unhappiness forces from me.  
As she made an end of these words, she could keep in no longer those showers of tears which fell down from her eyes in abundance; which yet hindered not, but that Lentulus, who looked on her with attention, or rather with transportation, thought her so beautiful in that condition, and was so much moved at her discourses, the grace wherewith she delivered them, and the fortune that obliged her thereto, that pity, which had by degrees taken place in his heart, was of a sudden changed into a violent passion. For though he had seen Tullia several times before, yet did it not raise in him any inclinations for her, other than what her merit might raise in all that knew her; but now in this little inter●●el, wherein grief appeared so amiable in her countenance, he became her absolutely devoted vassal, and in love with her after such a manner, that he had not the least strength to oppose it, and was not able to hear the reason which should have dissuaded him from loving a person whose affections were otherwise disposed of, and one from whom, either upon occasion of that discovery, or out of any consideration of her own humour, he was in all probability never to expect any thing. In a word, Love here knew no degrees, but as soon as he could be said to love, he might be said to do it violently, insomuch, that sympathising with her in the affection wherein he saw her involved, he participated thereof so far, that, when he turned toward Ptolemy, my Brother perceived his eyes were red and big with tears. For his part, he had not been at all moved, either at Tullia's words, or the discoveries of her affection, whether it proceeded from the resentment he had in heart against that Lady, or that naturally he had a soul not over-susceptible of love, or that all the affection it was capable of, was already devoted to Marcia, a Princess of excellent beauty, and one to whom he ought abundance of obligations. He was already desirous to remove from that place, when Lentulus, fearing they might be surprised, and perceiving by the discourse of Tullia, that it would trouble her infinitely if she should discover that Ptolomey had heard her, took him by the arm and carried him away. They went thence as softly as they had come thither, and made so little noise, that they were not perceived or heard. They went out of the little Isle, and walked a good while ere they spoke one to another. Ptolemy know not what to say of that adventure, so much was he surprised at the strangeness of it; and Lentulus, whose soul was wounded by what he had seen, and whose spirits were in some disorder, by reason of his newly-conceived passion, could not think of words whereby to express himself, and was content only to look on Ptolomey, in whom he could not perceive the least alteration upon that accident, and knew not, whether he should, out of considerations of compassion, advise him to love Tullia; or out of those of his own love and interest, entertain him with the sentiments he had for her himself. At last, having taken some few turns; they were just falling into some discourse, when coming to the end of a walk, that abutted upon that wherein they were, they met full-but with the two Ladies, who had left the Arbour in a manner as soon as they had, and without the least fear that they had been overheard by any one, had reassumed their walk. They were all very much surprised at that meeting, and particularly Tullia, as being the least prepared for it, and the most concerned in it. Her eyes were still red with weeping, which Lentulus perceiving, and consequently the condition she was in, could not look on her without a certain trouble and disturbance.  
They were so near one another, that it was impossible to pass by without salutes; and Lentulus, submitting to the Ascendent which now began to govern him, could not follow Ptolomey, who after a salute full of respect turned aside. Emilia, who took notice of his carriage, not consulting at this time so much decorum, as minding the friendship she had for Tullia, called him, and having obliged him to turn back; What now, Ptolomey, said she to him, do you shun the Ladies? No Madam, replied he, but it is not fit that the Son of Anthony should come near the daughter of Cicero. Enmities, replied Emilia, should not be eternal; and I shall not be friends with Tullia, if she make no distinction between the Children of Cleopatra, and those of Fulvia, who alone wrought all the unhappiness of their house. Both the one and the other are equally guilty by their birth, replies Ptolomey; nay though they were innocent enough to deserve that Tullia should wish them no hurt, they cannot be so far such as to hope for any of her conversation.  
This fierce young man not guilty of that tenderness he was, in civility, obliged to, would needs, out of an affected malice, repeat the same words to Tullia, which she had sometimes said to his Brother, as he had heard it related; so that after this last compliment he went away, and would have no further discourse with Emilia. In the mean time Tullia had not spoken at all, though Lentulus had come to her, but had fastened her eyes on the ground, as being in some doubt whether she should approve the proceeding of Emilia, whose intention seemed good to her, but her action indiscreet enough. So that her courage, and the affection she had for my Brother, raised no small distraction within her; but when she heard those last words, and saw him go away with so much disdain, her face was of a sudden deprived of all colour, and grief and vexation pressed upon her heart in such manner, that after she had, with some precipitation, said to Emilia, that she was not well and was not able to stand, she fell into a swound in her arms. Lentulus, whose eye was but too much upon her, ran to her; and though her misfortune touched him to the very heart, yet was it some joy to him to have her in his arms, while Emillia sat down on the grass, and with the assistance of Lentulus, laid Tullia by her, and took her head upon her lap. Ptolemey, who had not had the time to go far thence, turned about at the cry which Emilia gave, and seeing, though confusedly, what they were doing, he suspected what the business might be; though, it is possible, he might not think himself absolutely the cause of that accident. However, though he was not subject to much love, yet would he not be a wanting in point of civility, and consequently as to that assistance which he thought due to her sex; so that when, being come near, he saw her in a swound, Emilia loosening her garments, and Lentulus in such amazement, that he knew not what to do; he ran to the next rivulet, and, having taken up some water in both his hands, he brought it, and cast it on Tullia's face. Whereupon she immediately opened her eyes, and that, time enough to see the action of Ptolomey, and to perceive that it was from him that she received that assistance. I know not whether the joy or the confusion she conceived thereat were the greater; but being well furnished, both as to courage and reservedness, she betrayed not her thoughts of it, and giving my Brother a look suitable to the different passions she was then engaged with; I receive this kindness from you, said she to him, in requital for what I did your Brother in the like conditions; but it is enough for an enemy, and you are too too tender of the concernments of your house to do me any more.  
With these words she turned gently towards Emilia, and spoke to her softly, to entreat them to depart: to which end Emilia making signs to them, they went their ways, but, after several manners; Ptolomcy with such indifference, as if he had not been any way concerned in the adventure, and Lentulus so moved, and so distracted in his thoughts, that he hardly knew what he did. Being come some paces thence, they met with the women that belonged to Emilia and Tullia, whom their Mistresses had left behind, that they might walk alone, and having acquainted them with the accident that had happened, they obliged them to go to their Mistresses.  
When they were gotten a good distance from that place, Ptolomey, who walked after his ordinary posture of freedom and cheerfulness, observing the disturbance Lentulus was in, as well by his silence as by the several expressions thereof that were visible in his countenance; Is it possible, said he to him, that you are so much troubled at this adventure as you seem to be? But is it possible, replies Lentulus, that you can be so little as your face and actions discover you to be? I assure you for my part, says Ptolomey, that I am not troubled a jot at it, and that I look on this adventure as if it had happened to any other body. How, continued Lentulus, hath neither what you heard from the mouth of Tullia, of the love she hath for you, nor yet what you have seen of the effects of your disdain on her spirit, raised no trouble or alteration in you? Not a jot, replies Ptolomey. And besides the aversion I had for that Lady, I am not much taken with what is bestowed on me upon such occasions, if it hath not cost me something before, so that I shall not make any advantage of this adventure; and all that I shall do for Tullia that speaks any thing of obligation, is, that I shall not divulge it, and that I do, I do upon the account of discretion and her sex. So that it seems, says Lentulus, you do not love her, nor feel any inclination to do it? I do not only not love her now, answers Ptolomey, but I protest to you, I never shall love her, If it be so, replies Lentulus, I am some what less unhappy than I thought myself, that I am fallen into a passion which I should have wrestled with while I lived, had it been any way prejudicial to our friendship. And since you are the dearest of my Friends, I shall make no difficulty to tell you, that being come with you into this garden, as free as yourself from any love I had for Tullia, I am now fallen infinitely in love with her, to so high a degree, that it is impossible your brother could be more.  
These words made Ptolomey look on Lentulus somewhat amazedly, as if he could hardly imagine his discourse to be serious: How, said he, is it possible, Lentulus, that in so short a time, and by so strange an accident, you should fall in love with Tullia? So deeply, replies Lentulus, that all the words I can use are not able to express it: and I thought Tullia so beautiful in her grief, and so amiable in her singing and discourse, that my soul is bestowed on her without ever consulting my will; I say bestowed, and that in such a manner, that I am not in the least hope ever to retrieve it out of her power. I know I put myself to strange extremities; and that, attempting to serve a Lady, prevented by a strong passion for you, and one that hath studied constancy and resolution, such as Tullia is; I embark for a voyage wherein I am sure to meet with many storms: but when all is done, it is the pleasure of my destiny it should be so, and it is not in my power to oppose it.  
Lentulus went on with abundance of discourse to the same effect, which the length of this relation obliges me to forbear repeating to you, though it put Ptolomey into such an astonishment at the fantastic adventure, that he could hardly imagine it to be real. He entreated him, since he was not resolved to affect that Lady, never to speak ill of her, nor let the World know what he did concerning her passion, which haply the account and acknowledgement he made thereof, might in time oblige her to forget. My Brother promised never to speak of it while he lived to any one but to me, from whom he was not able to conceal any thing, and engaged for me that I should not suffer that secret to take any further air. Accordingly, he failed not to come that very night, to give me an account of all that happened to him, conjuring me to secrecy, and I could not but be amazed as well at his relation of tee love of Tullia, as that of Lentulus, whose misfortune I much bemoaned, because he was a person of a most illustrious birth, and very recommendable among the Romans for his many excellent endowments. I had also some compassion for Tullia, though I had no reason to love her, and I blamed Ptolomey for the inflexibility of his heart; but having great respects for Martia, and looking on that alliance as most advantageous for my Brother and all our house, I was very glad not to see him engaged in any other affections that might have diverted him from her. He on the the other side visited her oftener than he had done before, continuing and adding to the demonstrations of his affection; but with this remark, that he did all things with greater indifference and freedom of spirit than she could have desired, and in such a manner, that his love hindered him not from minding his ordinary divertisements, or discovering the aversion he had for marriage. However, he provided against the day of Augustus' his birth, to do for her what all other young Romans did for the Ladies they served; and would come into the exercises, with the Livery, and all other demonstrations of the engagement he lay under to serve her. Lentulus did the like for Tullia, but he understood that she was not well, and was not likely to be present at the Solemnity. You may some other time have an account of what hath passed in the loves of Lentulus and Tullia, possibly not unworthy your attention; but besides that there is not much come to my knowledge, they are not the subject of my present discourse, and my relation is so long without it, that I doubt not but you will excuse me, if I say not any thing thereof.  
At length, the day destined for the celebration of the Solemnity, and the honour of Augustus' birth, being come, the whole Court, all the Nobility, and the people ran to the Sights. I shall say nothing to you of the duels fought by the Gladiators, and the fight of savage beasts, which were the divertisements of the people for the morning. The rest of the day was spent in things of greater magnificence, such as wherein the Roman Nobility discovered their greatest pomp and gallantry; and yet I shall give you but a short description of it, and that out of a necessity that lies upon me to make mention thereof in my relation. There was no place within Rome able to contain the vast number of people that were to be present at the shows, and that of the persons that were to celebrate them. The Emperor therefore, had, without the gates of the City, in a fair Plain upon the Tiber side, caused a vast tract of ground to be railed in, having left two sides free for the people, which were bordered with an Amphitheatre of several steps, on which an infinite number of people might be disposed. He had caused to be raised over against the entrance certain Scaffolds covered over with rich tapestry, for the Ladies, the Senate, and such other persons as were destined for those places. On the fourth side were disposed part of the Emperor's Guard, whose employment it was to open the rails at the entrance of the Chariots, the horses and people that were to come in, and all that side was wholly taken up by such as were requisite for that office, to avoid all confusion & disturbance. The place was spacious enough for the longest races of either horse or Chariots, and of such an extent, as, it was said, that it was sufficient for the encamping of an army.  
The first sight was to be that of the Chariots, which was followed by Horse-races, and after that was a combat on horseback, between two parties with edgeless weapons, which the Romans call Troy, and they say was invented by Ascanius, the Son of Aeneas, at his arrival into Italy. All the Chariots passed one after another, took divers turns about the place along the rails, and after they had been seen by the Emperor, the Ladies, and the people, when the signal of the races was given, they were all disposed according to the order they had observed in coming in, at that end of the place which was opposite to our Scaffold, in expectation of the last signal at which they were to set forward. They had all four horses abreast, open before, with one only place behind, for the Master of the Chariot, wherein he sat armed all over, having on, a head-piece, the visor down, with a Buckler on his left arm, and two Javelins in his right hand; and the Chariots, the slaves that followed them, the clothes that covered the horses, and all the Equipage wore the Livery of the Ladies, as far as they were known. Upon these occasions was it particularly that the young Romans outvy'd one another to discover their inclinations; at least those who had no design to keep them secret, and to that end was there a great distance between the Chariots as they passed by, that people might the better observe the attendance of every Chariot in particular, and that without any confusion.  
The first that appeared was that of Marcellus, all glittering with gold and magnificent workmanship; his attendance was noble and full of pomp, and about his person, and in all his Equipage he wore the Livery of Julia. That of Tiberius came next, not inferior in point of magnificence to that of Marcellus, with my characters and colours. That of Domitius followed him, with those demonstrations which argued the affection he had for Agrippina. After that came Archelaus with the colours of Antonia. Next came young Ptolomey, very neat and gallant in his Equipage, wearing the colours of Martia. Prince Polemon followed him with those of Marcelia; and Mithridates, who came after him, made no difficulty to have also those of Antonia. The next was Crassus, with a Livery which none could guessc whom it was for, and whence it was to be inferred, that his intention was, not to have it known. Then came Lentulus with that of Tullia, and then Albinus, Aemilianus, Cinna, Cepio, and a many others of the most Illustrious Romans, to the number of fifty, it being the Emperor's pleasure there should be no more to avoid the confusion that might have ensued. Though Agrippa was not of an age that made him incapable of these exercises, yet would not the Emperor have him engaged therein, but took him and Maecenas for company's sake, to judge of the races, and to order the distribution of the prizes. And though all the Masters of Chariots had the visours of their headpieces down, and were in such a posture, as if they had been ready to fight, yet were they known as they passed by, as well by the persons that were of their attendance, as by divers other marks, so that it was in us to judge of the magnificence and graceful carriage of them, which we did, and gave our opinions thereof very freely.  
This great number of Chariots, (which certainly was the noblest sight in the World) had gone round about the place, and it was thought there would not come any more, when the Lists being opened again, the place echoed with the noise of twelve Trumpets which appeared at the entrance, and began to march a good distance after the last of the Chariots that had passed before. They were mounted on twelve excellent horses, and their long coats were of a sky-coloured stuff, which was the colour of Antonia, all covered over with inflamed hearts, and the characters of Antonia, in embroidery of gold; but the noblest and most sumptuous embroidery that ever had been seen at Rome. The flags which hung at their Trumpets were full of the same characters. After the Trumpets, came one after another twenty horses, led every one by two slaves, who held them in on both sides by two scarves of the colour and embroidery aforementioned. The horses were of the best kind of Gennets, and the proudest in their paces that ever were seen; they had in their heads, which they listed up with a certain Pride, great pennaches of the aforesaid colour, and their mains and tails tied up with ribbons of gold and skye-colour. The bits of their bridles were enamell'd with gold, and embellished with precious stones, and they were covered with sky-coloured clothes hanging down to the ground, and enriched with the same embroidery of gold, and the same characters of Antonia. The clothes of the slaves were of the same stuff, and had the same trimming. After these came fifty others clothed after the same manner, without any difference, and went on both sides the chariot which immediately followed the twenty horses.  
The Chariot had in it four horses white as the very snow, done with ribbons, and harnessed as the former. It seemed to be all of gold, mixed with skye-colour at certain distances, with double A. A's, burning hearts, darts, chains, and other emblems of love and servitude. The two sides had the form of two Lions, that seemed to have submitted to the yoke, upheld the seat, and served for a leaning place on both sides. And behind there was a Cupid made of the height of a man, where of the figure was somewhat greater than ordinary, which resting only on one foot behind, stretched himself out as it were to fly, and, having the wings spread, covered there with the person that was in the seat, and seemed to have been put there purposely against the injuries of the weather, and as it were a covering for the Chariot. The sculpture of that Cupid was admirable, his face as handsome as the best Gravers could have made it, and his wings glittering with gold and precious stones, which shined in several places. In one hand he carried a Heart upon the top of one of his arrows, and in the other a little flag of sky-coloured silk, wherein between two chains, and other marks of slavery, might be seen these verses written in letters of gold:  
I like a captive pine and sigh;  
Yet place a glory in my woes:  
I'd rather own this slavery,  
Than of the Universe dispose.  
All the rest of the Chariot was open, so that it was easy to see how the person was accommodated that was within it. He had on a cuirats and a head-piece of gold, enamell'd with skye-colour, and enriched, in several places, with stones of a great value. The head-piece was covered over with a many plumes of blue feathers, which both backwards, and on both sides hung down to his Shoulders. But in the enamel, as well of the head-piece as the cuirats, might be observed every where the characters of Antonia; and the sleeves and the lower part of his under-garment, which came down somewhat below his knee, being interwoven with gold and blue silk, were full of the same characters, with an excellent embroidery of gold, and his buskins interlaced with gold and blue, adorned with rich buckles and precious stones. Nor was there any want of them, about the sword he had by his side. He had in his right hand two Javelins, with the points guilt with gold, and in the left, a Buckler of the same metal, with the edges enamelled suitably to the rest of his Arms, and enriched in the middle with the picture of the fair Antonia, done so like her, that it was immediately concluded to be the work of the most excellent Painters of Italy.  
I thought it not amiss to give you this short description of him, for that indeed we spent more time in looking upon him, than we had done on all else that was to be seen, though it must needs be acknowledged there was no want of state or magnificence any where. But in regard that all the rest were known, and that there was no means to discover this last, either by the persons of his Attendance, or by any other mark, he drew after him, not only the astonishment and acclamations of the people, but also the curiosity of all others. And yet though it was impossible to know either his face or name, yet from some other circumstances, that were public and remarkable enough, it was generally concluded that it could be no other than the unknown Servant of Antonia, who some days before had bestowed on her the magnificent Galley, who had overthrown Archelaus and Mithridates, and of whom, under the name of the Unknown Lover, there were such strange reports spread up and down Rome and elsewhere. It immediately ran from mouth to mouth among the Spectators, and all the discourse was concerning Antonia's servant, insomuch that Archelaus and Mithridates perceiving it, conceived not a little trouble and envy thereat, and could not for a certain time recover themselves out of that disturbance of thoughts which that sight had caused in them.  
Antonia and myself were not far from the Emperor, so that overhearing all the discourse which fell not only from Caesar, but all those that were about him, upon occasion of this accident, there spread such a redness over Antonia's face, as could not be gotten off for almost all that day. And though I was not thereupon thrifty of my discourse to her, and earnestly entreated her to communicate her thoughts to me upon that emergency, yet was it a long time ere she would so much as open her mouth to make me any answer. Sister, said I to her, was it not shrewdly guessed of me some days since, that your unknown Servant was a person admirable as to point of invention and magnificence, and do you not find that in whatever he undertakes, he eclipses all that is done by others? In troth, I cannot forbear speaking for him, and to tell you, that I have conceived an extraordinary good opinion of him. Antonia was in some uncertainty, whether she should discover her displeasure at the adventure, or make her diversion of it as others did: but what thoughts soever her disturbance might inspire her with, yet could she not but entertain in her soul a certain joy at the advantages of a person that loved her, though he did it contrary to her intentions, and the reputation he acquired, whether she would or no, for his gallantry and magnificence.  
But not long after, she had much more reason, for in fine, Sister, (not to tire you with a relation of all that passed that day, which it were impossible to relate to you fully) I shall think it enough to tell you, that this unknown person having provided all things for that day, with all the care and prudence imaginable, and furnished himself with the best and fleetest horses that could be had, carried away all the prizes, as well for the horseraces as the Chariots, leaving behind him at a distance all that ran with him, and in that combat on horseback called Troy, he behaved himself with so much address and vigour, and did all things with such an admirable grace, that he alone drew after him the general acclamations of the Spectators. In fine, he was by the Emperor himself declared Conqueror, how partial so ever he might be for Marcellus, and received the prizes, which he came and laid at the feet of Antonia, bending the knee, and bowing to her with a submission that spoke him her slave. Antonia blushing for shame and vexation, though haply she was not much dissatisfied at the adventure, did, by the commandment of Octavia, receive them, and immediately after, the Unknown Lover mounting one of the best of his horses, rid him before us with such a grace, and seemed to us to be of such a noble presence, and so well to become the bow of the saddle, that we could not forbear admiring him. A while after, he went in among the rest, and, taking his time, and making his advantage of the disorder and confusion they were in, he went out of the Lists, and got away with as much speed as could be. His Chariot and Equipage were gone along before, for he had given order, that as soon as the Chariot-races were over, all should withdraw, while the people were taken up with the other exercises, wherein he was to make use of no more than the horse he road on.  
By this precaution had he taken a course, that those who were not concerned in his affairs, should not follow the persons that were of his attendance in order to discover him, as it might have been the design of divers. But as he retired himself, how circumspect soever he might be, he could not escape the eyes of the jealous Mithridates, who fully satisfied it could be no other than the same Rival that had cast him to the ground, took a resolution to follow him to the world's end, and never to leave him till he had discovered who he was, or that the other had made him satisfaction for the injury he had received from him. He went out of the lists soon after him, and perceiving he made all the speed he could away, he followed him at a distance towards certain houses, whither he saw he intended, and are distant from the City about fifty or sixty stadia. Archelaus, perceiving that Mithridates was gone, presently imagined the occasion of his departure, and it being no less his concernment than the others to be acquainted with his Rival, would needs follow him, and took his course that way which he was told he had taken.  
In the mean time Mithridates was gotten far enough before, and having observed that his unknown Rival turned towards a little Wood on the left hand, he made after him with all the speed he could; and reached it in a manner as soon as the other. It was with no small difficulty that he overtook him, nor indeed had he done it, had his Rival suspected any thing of his design; but ere he perceived any such thing, he was gotten so near him, that all he could do was to pull down the visor of his head-piece, which he had raised up to take a little more air, and he did it time enough to prevent Mithridates from knowing him. Having so done, he would have kept on his way, but Mithridates made a shift to get before him through the trees, and opposing his passage; Hope not (said he to him) to get away this time again, till I have known thee, and possibly till thou hast made me satisfaction for the many injuries thou hast done me. The Unknown Lover, troubled at this rencontre, was in suspense for some minutes what answer to make him, but at last, perceiving what extremity he was reduced to, and thinking that, besides the care he should take to disguise his voice, the head-piece would contribute so much thereto, as to make him undiscernible by the other. Mithridates (said he to him) thou hast little reason to be so obstinate in pursuing a man that is not thy enemy, but may become such through thy importunate persecution of him. If thou art my friend (replies Mithridates) thou shouldst not concealthy self from me, and if thou art not, I little fear thy displeasure, after the disgraces I am fallen into by thy means.  
As he uttered these words, he opposed his passage more than before, and held up against him the point of a Javelin he had in his hand. The Unknown Lover would have avoided fight without discovering himself, but perceiving it impossible to do it; Thou wilt haply have occasion to remember (said he to him) what violence thou dost force me to, and if thou receive any inconvenience thereby, thou hast no body to blame but thyself. With these words they charged one another at the same time, and having broken their Javelins on their Bucklers, upon which they received them, they drew their swords, and many blows were dealt on both sides. But my little experience in matter of Combats, permits me not to give you all the particulars, and therefore shall only tell you, that the Unknown Lover finding in one pass, Mithridates' horse in somewhat an unsettled posture, ran his own abreast upon him, and so overturned both him and his master to the ground.  
The Unknown Lover thought himself freed by the fall of Mithridates, and would accordingly have kept on his way, when there coming before him Archelaus; Stay, cried he to him, having seen Mithridates' fall, thou hast done but half thy work, unless thou conceive me less concerned to know thee then Mithridates. This second stoppage put the Unknown Lover out of all patience, though he very much esteemed the person of Archelaus, and seeing divers others coming from the City, he conceived he had but little time to lose, and accordingly without any further consultation, he fell upon Archelaus, who answered him with blows as to weight, not much inferior to those he dealt himself. They fought for a good while on equal terms; but at last, the Unknown Lover perceiving the persons, he had seen before, coming nearer and nearer, runs to Archelaus, and laying hold of him, he put on his horse, which was one of the best in the World, to force him out of the saddle, and so free himself by his fall, as he had done before by that of Mithridates. And certainly, he put so much strength to it, that he did what he desired in some part, and drew Archelaus out of the saddle upon the crupper, whence he slipped down to the ground: but Archelaus, having, as he fell, gotten hold of the other by the head piece, held him with such force, that he broke the chin-pieces of it, and taking it with him, his enemy's head was naked and disarmed. Upon which Marcellus, Ptolemy, Crassus, and divers others being come into the place, ran to the two Combatants, and in the sight of all those persons, as also of Archelaus and Mithridates, who were gotten up, the face of the unknown Lover was seen, and known to be Drusus, Son of Livia, and Brother to Tiberius.  
The astonishment of the two Princes that had been worsted by him, of Marcellus, Ptolomey and the rest, wars not ordinary, when they found Drusus to be the Unknown Lover of Antonia, who had served her, without discovering himself, with so much gallantry and goodliking: and if Archelaus and Mithridates were troubled that they had met with so powerful a Rival; they were in some measure comforted as to their disgrace, because it happened by the hands of a Prince, whose valour was known to all the World.  
Drusus was in a little trouble and disorder to see himself discovered, as thinking he had not come to that point that he should have done ere he had been known; but perceiving the misfortune to be incapable of any remedy, he generously resolved to endure it, and turning towards Prince Marcellus and Ptolomey, who stood near him: Most Illustrious Princes, said he to them, I crave your pardon for the surprise and stratagems I have used towards the Princess your Sister, and the offence I have committed against you by serving her without your knowledge. Had I thought myself worthy that glory, I should not have had any recourse to artifice; but how mean soever I may be as to point of merit, I cannot but hope from the goodness of Prince Marcellus, for whose sake I cheerfully quitted all the pretensions I had for Julia, that he will grant me, out of an excess of favour, that which I durst not presume to desire of him, before I had in some sort obliged him to love me, by the services it was in my thoughts to do him. And from Prince Ptolomey, a person I have ever infinitely esteemed, I do expect, he should not oppose me in the design I have, absolutely to sacrifice my whole life to the service of the Princess his Sister.  
To this effect was the discourse of Drusus, which when he had done, he expected the answer of the two Princes with that confidence, which he might well derive from the friendship they had expressed towards him for some time before. 'tis true, Drusus was a Prince of so great merit, that he was infinitely esteemed by all that were of his acquaintance; and from the time that Marcellus was reconciled with him after the duel they had fought for Julia, having discovered his excellent endowments, as well in his conversation, as the earnestness he observed in Drusus to purchase his affection, he had conceived more respect and friendship towards him than any other among the Romans, and preferred no man before him in his inclinations, but only Coriolanus. On the other side, Drusus' Fortunes were so considerable by reason of the authority of Livia, and the interest his own worth had justly gained him with Caesar, that neither Marcellus, nor Ptolomey, nor any of the other Friends of Antonia could wish her a match that were more advantageous. They accordingly studied not long for the answer they were to make him, and Marcellus speaking for both, out of a confidence that what he said should be confirmed: Prince, said he to Drusus, we have some reason to be displeased with you; but it is only for the little reliance you have had in our friendship, and the esteem we have for you. But that you shall hear more of another time; and therefore in the interim, since you have thought Antonia worthy your affections, I shall tell you that I think her happy, and very much honoured in the inclinations you have for her; that I question not but that Caesar, Octavia, Alexander, (wherever he may be,) and Ptolomey are of the same mind, and that, for my part, if in the design you have upon her, you need the assistances of a Brother that hath some power with her, I proffer you all you can desire or expect from me, as being one that endeavours nothing so much as the acquisition of your friendship, and next to that, the continuance of it while he lives.  
What Ptolomey said to Drusus, was to the same effect, whereat this Prince was so much satisfied, that he could not express his joy without a certain confusion. After he had discovered his resentments thereof to both, as much as he possibly could, he comes to Archelaus and Mithridates, and made his excuses to them, as to what was past, in the most obliging manner that could be. These two Princes felt so much grief within, that they could not think of any consolation, but not so much for the disgrace of their falls, as for that their ill fortune had raised them so dreadful a Rival, and the words they had heard from Marcellus and Ptolomey, from which, together with the confidence they were in, that Augustus and Octavia would declare for Drusus, they could not but infer that the little hope which they had conceived in the course of their affections, would come to nothing▪ But however they were burdened with grief, they received the civilities of Drusus as they ought, and on their side craved his pardon for their indiscretion, and whatever they attempted against him, while they knew him not.  
I see, Sister, you are desirous I should contract this relation, since it is indeed of an excessive length, and therefore, I shall only tell you, without insisting too much on particulars, that, notwithstanding all the resistance that Drusus made thereto, Marcellus and Ptolomey would needs have him, immediately, and in that very posture, presented to Antonia, and that Drusus having opposed it for some time out of fear to displease her, at last was prevailed with to come along with them, and followed them to the City, and so to the Emperor's Court, where all the most eminent persons about it were assembled, and discoursing of the Unknown Lover of Antonia. They were yet speaking of him when Marcellus comes into the room, leading in Drusus by the hand; and it was before this Illustrious Assembly, that Marcellus, having presented him to the Emperor, and Octavia, brought him to Antonia, and, having discovered him to her for the Unknown Lover, who had given her such gallant-like expressions of his love, and that in so extraordinary a manner, entreated her to entertain him, as a Prince that had devoted himself to her service, and whose inclinations for her were an honour to all their house. The whole Assembly was nothing but applauses and acclamations at the sight and discovery of Drusus; and being a person generally beloved, all were glad to hear that it was he who had done such noble things for Antonia, and cried out they were worthy one another, and that it was a couple the best matched of any in the World. The Emperor conceived an extraordinary joy at it, Livia was well pleased with the good choice her son had made, and the Emperor and she together, joining with Marcellus, (having performed the first civility to Octavia) addressed themselves to Antonia, entreating her to entertain Drusus into her service, and give him leave, by open hostility, to take in that heart which he would have surprised by stratagem.  
Antonia, some what troubled at the adventure, found it some difficulty to recover herself out of the disorder she was in; and though it be certain that it was some joy to her to see the unknown Lover changed into Drusus, who was the person of all the Romans, into whom she had most reason to wish him changed, yet was she still vexed at the artifice he had used toward her, and could not of a sudden overcome the resentment which was risen thereof in her mind. However she had a command over her ordinary moderation, and, having raised Drusus, who was on his knees before her, she only told him that there was a consonancy between her will and those of the persons to whom her birth had made her subject; and that, (I mean her moderation) she made use of not only for that day, but was the same for a many that followed; insomuch that Drusus hath found it true, that all the demonstrations of love that may be have no influence on her spirit, and amount to no more than the compliance she had for the disposal of Octavia. He was at last received into her service with the joy and acclamations of all, insomuch, that Antonia, having since had a greater acquaintance with his excellent endowments (if she were incapable of Love) hath at least submitted to the commands laid on her by Octavia and Caesar in his behalf, and hath satisfied him, by expressions worthy his solid virtue, and of the esteem she hath for him. And so it hath continued ever since, by the happy meeting of these two compliant dispositions, who are not subject to any trouble, because not to the weakness of a many others, so that it is out of all question that the Emperor will have them married at the same time that the nuptials of Marcellus and Julia shall be solemnised.  
Drusus hath told us since how that he had heard from Mithridates' own mouth, the discourse that had passed between him and Antonia, when they walked together, upon which he grounded his first letter, as also what course he had taken to conceal himself from all the World, as well that day that he bestowed on her the magnificent Galley, as that of the public shows, before which, some few days he had pretended affairs of consequence in the Country, because there should be no notice taken of his absence, at an Assembly, wherein he should in all likelihood be one of the first. Some few days after, Archelaus, overcome with grief, went to ease himself of it in the war, whither he was called to assist the King of the Medes, his kinsman, against the Parthians, and wherein, as they say, he hath gained abundance of reputation. Mithridates was in the same posture, uncapable of any consolation, though his love had not made so much noise as the others: but to satisfy him in some sort, the Emperor having the Crowns of Pontus and Comagenes, where there had happened very great revolutions, to d●spose of; bestowed that of Pontus on Polemon, and that of Comagenes on Mithridates, and sent them to take possession thereof.  
Ptolomey, according to his ordinary way of courtship, continued his addresses to Marcia, that is, with little earnestness, and much esteem and respect, but discovering little inclination to marriage. He never minded Tullia, who in requital was very violently courted by Lentulus, but I shall not give you any account of their loves, because they relate not much to the subject of my discourse, though they may be said to be some consequences thereof. I have already given you an account of all that happened to myself at that time, as well as to the news I received of the infidelity of Coriolanus, the departure of Marcellus and Tiberius, and the Emperor's voyage, wherein we accompanied him; so that you are fully acquainted with the affairs of our house; and the better to satisfy and entertain you therewith, I think, and that truly, that I have spoken more in three days, than I had done all my life before.  
Thus did the fair Princess Cleopatra put a Period to her long relation, which to do, she had done a more than ordinary violence to her disposition, and Artemisa had heard her with an attention, which had suspended in her mind the memory of her misfortunes.  
The End of the Second Book   

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA; OR, Loves Masterpiece. Part. IX.  
Lib. III.  
ARGUMENT.  
Megacles discourses with the unknown person, whose life he had saved, about the constancy and inconstancy of Fortune; Cleopatra and Artemisa, of the fidelity and infidelity of Coriolanus. The King of Armenia visits Cleopatra with a great dal of Courtship and personated Affection. She, abhorring him for his cruelties, and having resolved to be Coriolanus 's, slights him, and looks on his addresses as the pure effects of insinuation and sycophancy. However he forbears force, because far from his own Kingdom, whither he would make all the haste he could, but is prevented by contrary winds. Zendorus the Pirate entertains Artaxus with the History of his Life. He marries Elisena, a beautiful Lady of Armenia, and not long after grows jealous of her, through the means of one Cleontes, a young man, with whom she was over-familiar. His jealousy still increasing, Cleontes is by Elisena desired to depart the Court. The day before his departure, he and Elisena taking their last leaves, in an Arbour, are surprised by Zenodorus, who transported with rage and jealousy, immediately kills Elisena in the midst of their embraces. Cleontes gets away, but afterwards hearing of the death of Elisena, offers himself to Artaxus 's sword, who runs him through. As he lay dying, he discovers his neck and breast, and is found to be a Woman, Artesia, of near kin to Phraates, King of the Parthians, to avoid whose addresses she had disguised herself. Phraates, to revenge her death comes with an Army, and drives Zenodorus out of his Tetrarchy, which is afterward begged of Augustus by Herod. Zenodorus having lost all, seizeth some few ships, and turns Pirate. He follows Piracy with great success for ten years, at last takes Candace, Queen of Aethiopia, whom he falls in love with; but she, firing his ships, and casting herself overboard, escapes. Losing her, he takes Elisa, sole Heiress of the King of Parthia, but going ashore to seek out Candace, he loses both Elisa and all his ships, hath most of his men killed, and is himself wounded. He is met with in a Countryman's house, under the Surgeon's hands, by Aristus, and by him brought along with the men he had left to the King of Armenia.  
WHile the two Princesses were thus engaged in discourse, Megacles, whose care was equally divided, between that of having them in safe custody, to obey the commands laid upon him by his Master, and that of affording them the best attendance he could, to satisfy in some sort his own inclinations, which were ever directed to virtue, omitted nothing of what he thought might be expected from him in order to either of these Obligations. And whereas on the one side it was some dissatisfaction to him to be employed to secure them, out of the fear he was in to incense a Prince who was not wont to pardon any thing; so on the other, he with no less joy laid hold on those occasions which presented themselves, to discover unto them the repugnance which he struggled with to displease them. Being therefore obliged not to part from the ship, he had sent Aristus betimes in the morning to see what news he could learn of the King of Armenia, and this man being returned, had brought him word, that the King would infallibly come aboard the Vessel that very day: and that though he were in such a posture as to point of health, that he could not well undertake such a Voyage without some danger, yet had he absolutely resolved to venture it, out of the great desire he had to see Cleopatra, and the fear he was in of losing so noble a prize.  
Megacles, having received this intelligence for certain, began to dispose all things in the Vessel in order to his entertainment; and having understood that the Princesses were desirous to be alone, he, out of the great respect he had for them, would not so much as come near their Chamber, and was content only to give notice to one of the women that belonged to Cleopatra, that he desired that notice might be sent him, when the Princesses were pleased that he should wait upon them, and when they would have anything brought to dinner. That done, calling to mind the Unknown Person, whom the day before he had rescued from the devouring waves, and of whom he had conceived a marvelous good opinion, he would needs give him a visit, and being come into the Chamber, where he had left him a-bed, he found that he made a shift to get on his clothes; but that afterwards, being much troubled with the great quantity of salt-water he had drunk, he had been forced to cast himself again on the bed they had assigned him. Megacles, as soon as he came in, caused a little window to be set open to give a little more light to the Chamber, and having by that advantage of light made fresh observations of the good countenance and handsomeness of the Unknown, he was now much more surprised at him than the day before, and could not look on him, but with a certain admiration. The other, who with much ado knew him again, and reflected on the assistance he had received from him, as also on the conversation they had had together, and the more than ordinary pains and earnestness he had expressed in the saving of his life, entertained him with abundance of kindness, and gave him some occasion to see through the clouds of his melancholy, that though he had little love for the good office he had done him, yet had he abundance of acknowledgement for his good intentions. Add to that, that all his behaviour, all his gesture, nay indeed all things seemed to be so great, as if there had been in him a conjunction of sweetness and modesty with a noble and majestic air, that, notwithstanding all his ill fortune, Megacles felt in himself abundance of inclinations to respect him, as he would do the person of Artaxas himself. After he had sat down by him, that he had felt his pulse, and had desired of him some account of his health, the unknown person assuming the discourse with a sigh, which by its depth seemed to have come from the bottom of his heart; My health (said he to him) is but in too good a posture compared to that of my Fortune; but whatever it may be, you see that I do not any way oppose the return of it, and that I have kept the promise I had made you not to attempt anything against my life, while I shall be in your power. And for that very reason, replies Megacles, you shall continue in it as long as I can possibly keep you, and I should find it no small difficulty to suffer you to leave us, if I had the least imagination that you forsook us, to go and seek out death. When I consider what posture my life is reduced to, replied the Unknown, I think death to be the only happiness I either can, or aught to hope; and yet since I have had that of seeing you, having made some reflections on the things you told me yesterday, on the strange manner whereby I was delivered out of the very jaws of death, contrary to all probability, and other circumstances of my misfortunes, I concluded, that I ought not to put a Period to my own life, before I had done all that lay in my power to serve a person on whom I had bestowed it; since that in all likelihood she stands in need of it, and that it is not impossible but that by some one of those extraordinary accidents that happen to me, but she may yet receive it. Out of this consideration, and upon the account of this Obligation, rather than out of any hope, or remainder of love that I have for my life, had I taken my clothes, and would have begged your leave to be gone; but, to deal truly with you, the body was not able to follow the motions of the spirit, and perceiving that all the strength I could muster was hardly able to bear me up, and consequently far from putting that in execution which I had intended, I was forced to lie down again, till such time as I shall have recovered it a little better, as I possibly may ere this day be quite passed. The Gods have the praise of this good resolution, replied Megacles, and I shall think myself obliged to give them thanks while I live, for the opportunity they have furnished me with to prevent the effects of your despair, since that by this very demur we have made to it, we may haply have absolutely diverted and dismissed it. Alas, alas, replied the afflicted person, with a sigh, how little acquaintance have you with my Fortune! And how far would you be from that opinion, had you but once an account of my misfortune! I shall know them when you shall think good, replied Megacles; but I shall not desire it of you, till such time as your own inclination shall inspire you to give it me: for, the little time I have known you considered, I have conceived such a respect for you, as permits me not to deal with you as I haply should with ordinary persons. That compassionate sentiment, which you have for the miserable, replied the Unknown, you rather derive from your own virtue, than any thing you might have observed in my person, which is only the mark of Heaven's Indignation, and a ball continually tossed and bandied by the inconstancies of Fortune. And therefore assure yourself, that the opinion I have conceived, and the resentment I have, of this compassion you express toward me, should, no doubt, prevail with me to make a discovery of myself to you, rather than to any other person, if I might thereby convinoe you of the esteem I have for you, and were I not obliged to secrecy out of other considerations then what concern myself, You may judge of the truth I now tell you, by the posture wherein you have seen me, and I doubt not but you are satisfied that he who contemns his life, as I have done, hath nothing to fear, as to himself, that might hinder him to discover himself. Till such time then that I am at that liberty, I shall only tell you, that whatever incensed Heaven, and the indeprecable destinies may have ever executed that were most in supportable, on a great number of miserable persons, is fallen in such manner on me alone, that neither the times of our Fathers, nor yet our own, could ever afford such another example. And whereas you have seen divers persons become unfortunate through the loss of dignities, friends, estates, the affection, nay, and the persons too of all that they could love in this World, you have in me a draught of all these, but a draught a thousand times greater than your imagination can represent it to you.  
I have ever been of opinion, replied Megacles, that your misfortunes were indeed extraordinary, and your soul hath appeared to me so great in the expressions I have seen thereof, that I immediately inferred it impossible as to ordinary ones. And yet I shall presume to tell you that in the course of the World there have been seen revolutions strange enough to raise up and encourage the most crushed hopes, and that several persons out of the most dreadful abysses of misfortunes, have as it were in an instant flown up to the highest pitch of happiness and glory. Who could have promised Marius in the midst of his miseries, that glorious change that happened in his condition? and who could have put him into such a hope, as that out of the fen where he had hid himself for the safety of his life, and out of the dungeon, wherein he had been exposed to the mercy of those that were sent to murder him, he should, within a few days after, enter Rome in triumph, and be raised up to the same height of greatness whence be had before been cast down?  
You find it no small difficulty, replied the Unknown person, to meet in all our ages but with this one example, to prove the possibility of man's▪ return from misfortune to lost felicities; but you may easily find an infinite number to demonstrate how easy it is to fall from thrones into chains, and from same and happiness into shame and misery. So many Kings in Rome, drawn after Chariots, loaden with chains, and disposed into prisons, and among the Romans themselves, the great Pompey, and the deplorable Anthony, furnish us with examples of it sufficiently dreadful. A man may endeavour to struggle with Fortune by the assistance of virtue and a great courage, but not expect the return of her favours, when she hath once withdrawn them by her inconstancy: for this envious goddess is much more inclined, and subject to pull down what she had once built up, than to raise up what she had once brought to ruin. Besides, there are some happinesses, and some misfortunes in our lives that have no dependence on Fortune, and wherein she is very little concerned: and where as she hath no power over men's inclinations, it were in vain for those, whose greatest happiness should consist in the loss of an affection, which they thought extremely precious, to expect the return of it from Fortune, and it were fruitless for them any way to rely on her assistance. Sylla, who seemed to have made an alliance with her, and who might well attribute more to her indulgence than he could have done to his own virtue, enjoyed the continuance of her favours to the end with a more than ordinary constancy; and that Greek Captain, whom she in his dreams, presented with Cities besieged in nets, acknowledged her ever for an assistant goddess. But neither of these two great examples ever sought any other happiness, or feared any other misfortunes than those which are deriveable from her Empire, and she might well be their principal divinity, since she disposed of all those things that could raise in them either fears or desires, and consequently could make them either fortunate or unfortunate: but for my part, who, with all she could take from me, have lost what she cannot restore me to, alas, To what god can I address myself? Or where shall I find either assistance or compassion, when both Heaven and Earth have conspired against me?  
These words fell from him with such an expression of sadness, and yet he had uttered them with such a grace, and in so obliging a manner, that Megacles had not only all the pity that could be for him, but also all the admiration. He therefore omitted nothing of what he could say to him, that he thought might give him any comfort, and having, before he would stir out of the place, caused victuals to be brought in, he would not leave him till he had eaten something. Which done, out of a fear he might be troublesome to him, and a consideration that rest would do him much good, he left him, and went about those things which his charge obliged him to look after, and particularly to take order for the bringing of victuals and other necessaries from Alexandria in order to their voyage, wherein he was to be so circumspect as that the vessel might not come thereby into any danger of being discovered. In these employments and some other which he had had, the morning and better part of the day was spent; so that at last perceiving it was very late, and that the Princesses had not called for any thing, he went to their chamber-door, and sent to entreat them that they would be pleased something might be brought them to dinner. It was much about the time that the fair Cleopatra had made an end of her long relation; insomuch that upon the solicitation of Megacles and their Women, they gave way that somewhat should be brought them in, and took a little nourishment.  
About the end of their repast, the Princess Cleopatra, who seemed to have slumbered herself into a deep recollection, gave a sudden start, and was as it were in a great trouble and disturbance; but a little after recovering herself, and fetching a sigh from the bottom of her heart; Good God, Sister, said she to Artemisa, how true is that which I told you this morning concerning the force of our imagination, and how certain is it that the remembrance which I still have in my soul of the unfaithful and unfortunate Son of Juba, hath imprinted such strong idaeas of him in my mind, that if his countenance appears not to my eyes, his voice I am sure s●ites my ears! Even at that very moment that you might have observed some alteration in my countenance, I thought I had heard him distinctly very near me, and several times this day, during the time of the discourse I have entertained you with, this same deluded imagination of mine brought that sound to my ears, and had almost put me out in my relation. I could not have believed that for an unfaithful person there should have remained such strong impressions in my mind, but alas, how unconstant soever he may have been, he is haply dead for my sake, and by the blood he hath shed by defending us against the Barbarians, he hath haply expiated part of the offence he hath committed against us.  
Introth, Sister, replied Artemisa, whether he hath lost his life in our cause and assistance, or that it hath been the pleasure of the gods to preserve him, as it is not impossible but it may be so, I cannot for my part, imagine he should be unconstant: and what hath appeared to me in order to his justification, hath had such an influence over my belief, that I am still of the same mind, and cannot forbear telling you, that I think him very innocent. Might it please the gods he were such, replied the afflicted Princess, and were it the pleasure of the same Gods that I had purchased the innocence you attribute to him, with the best part of my blood. But having paused a while, O vainest of wishes, continued she, the pure effect of the tenderness of my own heart! What advantage can I derive to myself from his innocence? If he were destined to die, should it not be some satisfaction to me that his infidelity hath happened before his death, that so I might be capable of a comfort which I should never have harkened unto, had he died constant? And if on the other side he be living, when I consider the wretchedness of my misfortune, and the captivity I now am in, which haply will never suffer me to see him again, am I not much less unfortunate in that I have only my own miseries to bewail, than if, it being supposed he were constant to me, I should be obliged to have aresentment of his as much as if they were my own? And yet all this notwithstanding, concluded she with a sigh, (proceeding either from weakness, or that she had some reason for it) I cannot repent me of my wish, and I should be glad, though haply it might cost me my life, he were not unconstant to me.  
I am very much of your mind as to that point, replied Artemisa, and accordingly make it out of all question, that of all the miseries which it is in the power of Fortune to force upon us, there are not any but are more supportable to a heart sensible of a tender affection, than those that proceed from that very affection, as being such as are all directly leveled against the same heart that is wounded by them. There are in our souls several degrees of tenderness, for they are not equally sensible of the happinesses and unhapinesses of this nature as of those that proceed from other causes; nay I dare affirm, that while they have this impression, they have no other consideration of these later, than that they were assistances or obstacles to those which we look on as purely real and essential. Which granted, I can without any difficulty believe, that amidst all the misfortunes which the just indignation of heaven may send upon us, the unconstancy and infidelity of the person beloved, is the most indigestible, and most grievous and insupportable, and, by a certain violence of assault, storms that strength of mind which might possibly hold out against all other unhappinesses. And you must on the contrary acknowledge, that amidst all the miseries through which our inexorable destinies will needs force us, the faith and constancy of the person we love, raises up our spirits into such a height of consolation and enjoyment of ourselves, that during such time as we make a strong reflection thereupon, we are almost in an apathy as to all the rest, all our sensibility being taken up by the other.  
Ah, Sister, replies Cleopatra, fixing her eyes on Artemisa, with a languishing, but withal an amiable look, how true is all you have said, and consequently how have you fully convinced me, that I am the most unfortunate person in the World, and that you are not unhappy at all, since that being exposed to all those misfortunes, which you have mentioned, and particularly to that which you acknowledge to be most insupportable. I am deprived of that dear consolation which might in some sort alleviate them, and which the gods have been pleased to leave you. I must indeed confess, replied Artemisa, that I shall never think myself absolutely miserable while my Alexander is constant to me: but I hope you are in the same degree of happiness, and cannot forbear telling you over and over, that I find more reason and probability in the circumstances that make for Coriolanus, then in those that make against him. And you ought to give me so much the more credit, Sister, for that I speak on the behalf of truth contrary to my own interest, and against my own quiet. Your interest, Sister, says Cleopatra to her, and what interest have you I pray in the fidelity of Coriolanus, other then what our friendship obliges you to have? I am so much concerned in it, replies Artemisa, that Coriolanus is not much more himself. And this you might easily have imagined, though I have not spoken any thing to you thereof, since it is apparent enough, that, if, according to the presumption you have of the inconstancy of Coriolanus, you should once banish him your heart, the King my Brother, whose prisoners we are, and who loves you well enough as you have had sufficient trial, might conceive a little more hope from your neglect and oblivion of Coriolanus, then if you still afforded him a place in your affections. And if that alteration should once happen, what fortune were comparably to mine, since I might hope to be two several ways your Sister, and to possess my Alexander without any danger, and that with my Brother's consent? And yet you see▪ Sister, that this interest could not prevail with me to speak contrary to what seemed to me to be truth, and the innocency of of Corilanus; and all the fortune might happen to me should it be otherwise, could not force me to disguise my thoughts or betray the affection I have for you.  
Your deportment in this business, replied the Daughter of Anthony, speaks you a Princess nobly born, full of goodness and virtue, and I conceive myself obliged to you for this particular demonstration of your friendship, much more than for all the others you might have given me. But since you have thought fit to make this overture to me of yourself give me leave, Sister, to entreat you, by whatever is dearest to your thoughts, to persevere in that good intention, and I beseech you, by all the good inclnations you have for me, never to aggravate the miseries of my captivity by such discourses as haply the King your Brother will oblige you to entertain me with on his behalf. I shall not tell you, that, by his horrid cruelties as well towards my Brother as yourself, he hath rendered himself unworthy, both of the affection he expects from me, and the assistance which he hopes you may afford him. Nor shall I add to that; as I very well might, how that by the same cruelty, whereof I have been acquainted with the abominable circumstances, both from the relations of Alexander and your own, he hath raised in my heart the greatest horror that may be for him, whence it comes that I look on him rather as a Tiger than a great King. But I shall not stick to tell you plainly, that, though his life were not stained with any base or reproachable action, though his manners and disposition wanted not that mildness and affability I should require, though his person were more than ordinary amiable, and that to his single Crown he could add the Roman Empire, he should never have any part in this heart, which I have once bestowed, and never can do a second time. Coriolanus hath had the first spoils of it, and shall carry them with him to the grave; whether he be living or dead, constant or inconstant he only shall have that advantage. And if, by his infidelity, I am dispensed from the affection which I ought to have continued to the very last gasp, had he persevered in his; oram, by his death, disengaged, as to him, of a friendship, which it is needless to observe towards the shades, there is nothing can disengage me from myself, that is, from what I imposed upon myself, when I first submitted to that innocent affection, and consequently, nothing can set my soul at liberty in order to a second choice, or into a condition to entertain any new impression of love. 'tis enough that the great Clcopatra hath once given way to love and been taken with the great perfections of the most amiable amongmen; but the justification which I might find for my former weaknesses, would not haply be accepted for the latter. Expect not therefore from me, my dearest Sister, what I could not obtain of myself, for myself, though I should pretend a greater interest it should be so, than that which you represent, and imagine that there cannot be any felicity hoped from an affection contracted by such extraordinary ways. To do you what service I can with the King your Brother, and to oblige him to treat you with more civility, I shall conceal part of my resentments, and the aversion I have for him; and therefore you ought to be satisfied with me, when you shall see me do that for you which I should never endure to do one minute for myself, and consider the violence I do myself for your sake, as no slight demonstration of my Friendship.  
Artemisa gave Cleopatra many thanks for the promise she had made her to force her inclinations upon her account, and begged her pardon for what she had said concerning her own concernments, and, in requital, made a protestation to her, that she would never speak to her more on the behalf of the King her Brother, and that she had too great an esteem for those resolutions of fidelity and constancy which she had taken, ever to be guilty of any design to oppose them.  
Thus were they engaged in discourse, when of a sudden they heard a very great noise in the ship, and not long after, that it was upon occasion of the Kings coming into it. What lectures soever they might have read one to another of constancy, they both grew pale, and were a little startled at this news, and looking one upon the other without speaking, they were at a loss as to all resolution; yet so as that there might be some difference in their thoughts, and if the soul of Cleopatra was burdened with a more lively grief, that of Artemisa was subject to more fear. At last, Cleopatra, whose courage was greater than that of Artemisa, was the first that broke forth into any resolution, and looking on Artemisa with a countenance that spoke something of more confidence; Sister, said she to her, Let us rely on the assistance of Heaven in our misfortune, and in the mean time summon together all our virtue, and let us not forget the resolution we have taken.  
Artemisa had not the power to make her any answer, nor indeed had she time: for immediately thereupon their chamber-door being opened, the first thing they saw was the dreadful countenance of the King of Armenia. He was somewhat of a pale complexion, and leaned, as he came along, upon one of his men; but his paleness was dispelled at the sight of that object by which he was inflamed, and he made a shift to forget all his weakness to get near Cleopatra, who at first coming in was risen from the place where she fate.  
Artaxus saluted her with abundance of respect, and Cleopatra, who was glad to continue him in that humour, and loath to force him to those extremities, which she might justly fear from a man so violent, returned him, though with a sad and serious countenance, what was due to his quality from a Princess of hers. Before he spoke to Cleopatra, he cast his eyes on Artemisa, who trembling for fear, had her eyes fixed on the ground, not having the confidence to look him in the face. The fear and confusion he perceived her to be in, added not a little to his joy; but however, he thought fit to speak to Cleopatra, before he addressed himself to the other, and looking on her with a countenance wherein he endeavoured to moderate some part of his natural fierceness, and to take off somewhat of that which was most dreadful in him; Madam, said he to her, my love forces me to wait on you, though the justice of the gods hath made you mine to be disposed as I please; even in the late accident you might have taken notice of so much, and you ought to forget your own resentments of it, out of a consideration of the blood I have lost to preserve you. I shall never believe, answered Cleopatra, that it is to be attributed to the justice of the gods, that a free person, and one of my birth, should become your Prisoner, without any war, and contrary to the Laws of all Nations. You might have observed no less yourself in this very adventure, where it hath cost you so much blood, and it is impossible they should approve the unjust violence you do me, if they are, as it is believed, the assertors and patrons of Justice and Innocence. What violence, replies Artaxus, can he be said to do you who casts himself at your feet? Or wherein does he violate the Law of Nations, when he gives you a full right and absolute power over both his Heart and his Crown? Do you imagine that this injustice is of the same kind with those which the gods punish, and are you not afraid to incense them yourself, by entertaining so much aversion and animosity against a King that adores you, and is ready to die at your feet?  
Having said these words, he turned towards Artemisa, and looking on her with a little more mildness than ordinary, by reason of the presence of Cleopatra, whom he knew to have a horror for his cruelties: Well, Artemisa, said he to her, you see after what manner Heaven hath prospered your designs, and how it hath approved that the Daughter of Artabasus should forsake her Brother and her King, to run away with the Son of Anthony. My Lord, replies Artemisa, endeavouring to recover herself a little, though my affection was, I must confess, very great towards Alexander, yet was it not such as should have obliged me to forsake you to follow him, could I have taken any other course to have saved his life, which you would have taken from him, and he should have lost for my sake. This makes nothing for your justification, replies Artaxus; but you do not stand much in need of any, having sound such a sanctuary in the Princess Cleopatra. The power she hath over me disarms the indignation I have against you, and I have no hatred for Alexander since I adore Cleopatra. In a word, your destiny is in her hands, and I shall not only pardon you the offence you have committed against me, but I shall further consent to your marriage with Alexander, if Cleopatra will be but mine.  
It is not impossible, replies Cleopatra, not staying for any answer from Artemisa, but that we may find other means to get out of your power; and if they ●aile us, we will follow those resolutions which the gods and our own courage shall inspire us with. In the mean time, be not flattered with so fond a hope, as that Caesar should tamely suffer you, in his own dominions, and almost in his arms, to carry away a Princess that is one of his house, and under his protection; but on the contrary, assure yourself, that by such a contempt of his authority you may stir up such a fire as may set your Kingdom all into a flame.  
Caesar, I question not, replies Artaxus, will remember, that my Father hath always served him, and died in his cause, through the cruelty of your Father, who was his implacable enemy. I myself, in my younger years, have drawn my sword on his side against▪ Anthony, and if the children of his enemies are not more considerable to him than those of his Friends and Allies, he will not think there is more injustice in the carrying away of Cleopatra, than in that of Artemisa. Artemisa hath not been carried away, replies Cleopatra, she hath only fled away from your wrath, after she had saved my Brother's life▪ It was her obligation to preserve it, because it was for her sake that he had exposed it to that ignominious death, which you had intended he should suffer. And so after she had thus acquitted herself towards a Prince who was not unworthy of her, she was content to follow him, and participate of his fortune in order to the safety of her life, which she could not hope to have secure with you, after those examples of cruelty which she had so fresh in her memory.  
Well, Madam, replied the King of Armenia, whether Alexander carried away Artemisa, or Artemisa carried away Alexander, it matters not; this is certain, that I received the affront, in the very heart of my dominions; and that a Prince of the quality of Alexander had no ground in the World to go and remain incognito in the Court of a King, whom he knew to be his enemy, whether it were to gain the affections of his Sister, or out of any other design which he might have had; and that there is not any Prince in the World, by whom he had not been ill treated upon such an account. But though this reason, and the others I have already alleged of the interests and the services of our house, should amount to nothing with Caesar, I am now to appeal to another power than his, and since I have submitted myself to yours, I stand in greater fear of your indignation than Augustus'.  
This he seconded with some other discourse, after which, he desired leave of her to sit down, by reason of his wounds which had weakened him very much, and were not a little troublesome to him. Cleopatra laughed in her sleeve at this pretended respect, and yet was not a little pleased to keep him in that humour, out of a fear he might break forth into disorder, and accordingly not much care what violences he put in execution. Nor indeed was the design of Artaxus any other; it being impossible that his fierce and cruel nature should spend itself long in fruitless compliances! But he thought it his best course to dissemble, while he was yet in a condition to fear all things, and out of that consideration would not make use of his power, till such time as he were come into his own Kingdom. In the interim, he had resolved to do all that lay in his power to humour Cleopatra, and omitted no humble submissions, to make her forget, if possible, the aversion she had conceived against him. He would needs have the ship hoist up sail at that very instant, though his Chirurgeon had made it appear to him, that the sea was prejudicial to his wounds, and indeed on the other side some reason to fear he might be surprised upon that coast, by those that were sent out in quest of Cleopatra. He conceived, and that not without probability, that he had not escaped so long, had it not been for the little likelihood there was that those who had carried away Cleopatra, should stay so near Alexandria. And indeed it was out of that very consideration that those who went in their pursuit, as well by sea as by land, had gone the farther from the place where the fact was done. Besides, the vessel was so hidden by a Rock, which in a manner covered it, that on the landside it could not any way be seen; and to prevent all suspicion from the sea of its being that vessel wherein were the Princesses, order had been taken, that neither they nor any belonging to them, should at any time appear upon the deck.  
With this precaution, and these favourable circumstances, Artaxus, not conceiving himself secure, would needs have been gone thence at that instant, when a wind, contrary to his designs, and consonant to the wishes of the Princesses rises at the same time; but a wind so contrary to the course they were to take, that it was thought impossible to get out of the river, while it blew with the same violence it had begun, nay there was some fear, that if they went out of the place where they were, wherever they had cast anchor, it could not be so private as the other. The King of Armenia, exasperated at this, railed at the gods and fortune for this misfortune, but after he had tormented himself for some time to no purpose, he was forced to give way, and to suffer the remainder of the day and the night following to pass away in expectation of a change. In the mean time he was retired into a little chamber which they made a shift to dress him up in the vessel, where he thought fit to take his rest for some time and have his wounds dressed.  
The two Princesses had soon notice of this favourable change of the wind, by Camilla, who had heard it from Megacles, and this wench, who was indeed very much esteemed by her Mistress as well for ne'er virtue, as her many excellent qualities, after she had told them the news with a countenance full of joy and cheerfulness, Madam, said she to her, let us not despair of Heaven's assistance, and since it begins to declare itself for us, let us believe that its assistance will prove absolute and effectual, and that it will never for sake such great and virtuous Princesses in such a misfortune as you are in. I am very much inclined to hope it, my dear wench, replies the Princess, and we ought to join our prayers together, to beseech the gods to direct those to the place where we are, who in all probability run up and down to our rescue. There is no doubt to be made, added the fair Artemisa, but that Alexander will search the World over in our pursuit; but he goes far enough to find us whi●e we are so near the place where he lost us; 'tis so much the more our unhappinesses, and it will never be believed that those who carried us away should make a stay at the gates of Alexandria. I am of your mind, replies Cleopatra, but these reflections avail us nothing, and all that lies up-us to do, is, to expect with patience what it shall please the sovereign disposers of our destinies to do with us.  
While they were discoursing thus in their Chamber, Artaxas kept silence in his, unless it were when that from his bed he gave orders for his voyage. Megacles gave him an account of that admirable unknown person whom he had relieved, and had disposed into his bed, and spoke of him in such manner as raised in the King a desire to see him, upon the extraordinary relation which the other had made concerning him. But in regard that Megacles told him, that he was too weak and too much cast down to be brought before him, in a time that he shuned the light, and hated life itself, he resolved to give him a visit in the place where he was, after he had taken an hour's rest on his bed.  
Thus was he employed, when he sees coming in to him, Aristus, and with him seven or eight men sufficiently well armed, with fierce and savage countenances, and, in the head of them, he who seemed to be their chief, and had as little kindness in his looks as any of them, though he were very pale, and seemed to have lain in lately of some great sickness. The King at first sight could not call the man to mind, not only by reason of the alteration wrought in him by his sickness, as the change which ten are twelve years had made in his countenance, it being so long since he had seen him. But Aristus, assuming the discourse, and presenting him to the King, This my Lord, said he to him, is the famous Zenodorus, whom you have sometimes seen in your own Court and in your Armies, before the accidents that have happened to him, had obliged him to coast up and down the seas where he hath made himself so dreadful. I have met him again by a very strange chance, and in regard that I knew your Majesty hath had a great esteem for him, and conceiving that his services and those of the men that accompany him, (persons much better acquainted with these seas than any of your subjects) might prove advantageous to you in the condition you are now in, I though fit to bring him along with me, out of a confidence that your Majesty would take it well at my hands.  
With these words Zenodorus continuing the discourse, made himself fully known to the King, and Artaxas, who had not only seen him many years before both in his own Court, and also in the King his Fathers, but had also a particular esteem for him, and, at his coming to the Crown, had assisted him in his marriage with one of the handsomest Ladies in all Armenia, called him to mind very well; and having entertained him with much kindness, he assured him of his joy to see him again, and of his assistances as far as he were able, upon what account soever he might desire them. Zenodorus returned him thanks with much respect, and proffered to serve him in his own person, and promised the services of those men that accompanied him with all fidelity. Artaxus, discovering his weakness by the paleness of his countenance, and having known him to be a person of a considerable rank, caused him to sit down, and after some words expressing the respects he had for him; Zenodorus, said he to him, if you are astonished to see me upon this coast, and in the posture wherein you find me, I am no less myself to meet you in that condition wherein you appear to me. About the time of your departure from Armenia, while yet I was but young I heard thousands of stories of you, and have understood since, that for these eight or ten years you have scoured the seas with several considerable ships of war, have taken many prizes, fought divers memorable fights, and grew dreadful beyond all the Pirates that sound so much trouble to the Great Pompey.  
'tis very true, my Lord, replied the Pirate, that I have done part of what you say, and that I have been feared as well on the main sea, as in that where we now are. I was, not many days since, the richest of all the Pirates, and had gotten together riches enough, to forget all resentment for what had been taken away from me to bestow on Herod; but Fortune hath eased me of a great part of them. The late tempest, which lay so heavy on this sea, dispersed some part of my ships, the rest have been taken by the Praetor of Egypt, and I have received myself upon this coast, a thrust through the body, which left little hopes of life behind it, and yet I have with much ado recovered it, and by a miraculous assistance am brought into the condition wherein you now see me. What you tell me, replied the King of Armenia, I am not only astonished, but much troubled at, and if ever we come into Armenia again, I will furnish you with those supplies which you shall conceive necessary to restore your fortune to the posture it was in before. But in regard I have heard a many strange and wonderful things of you, and that without any order or dependency, I should be very glad to understand from yourself the accidents of your life, such as are of greatest consequence, as may best suit with a short discourse, if it may be done without any inconvenience to you. I shall be no less satisfied, my Lord, replied Zenodorus, to give your Majesty that demonstration of my obedience and respects, and notwithstanding the paleness which is so visible in my face, and proceeds merely from the quantity of blood which I have lost, I feel no inconvenience that shall hinder me from giving you a relation of my adventures, which were not haply worth your Majesty's attention, were it not for one accident, which, being very remarkable, hath accordingly made no small noise in the World. With these words he came somewhat nearer the bed, and sat in the place where the King had commanded him, and having caused his men to leave the room, Megacles received them, and lodged them with the others that were in the vessel; so that having, by a little rest, and some minutes of silence, prepared himself for the discourse he was to make, he began it in these terms.  

THE HISTORY Of the Pirate ZENODORUS.  
I Shall not be so disingenuous as to deny, that in the life I have led for these eight or ten years, I have been forced to do many actions full of impiety, injustice, and cruelty; that I have violated all manner of laws, and committed all manner of crimes: nay, that by the constant practice of them, I have contracted such a habit of evil, as I shall haply find it no small difficulty to reform myself of. But I would withal, if possible, gladly persuade your Majesty, that a great part of the mischievous inclinations which are grown so powerful within me, are rather the consequences of my cross Fortune than the effects of my own nature, and that, if the misfortunes that have happened to me since my departure from Armenia, had not exasperated my disposition, and corrupted my manners, I should, as I had been born with great inclinations to virtue, have continued in the same esteem and reputation that I was in when your Majesty was pleased to honour me with more than ordinary savours and kindnesses. I shall contract the discourse of my misfortunes as much as I can, as well because I am unwilling to abuse your attention, as that considering the condition your Majesty is in, it were very unseasonable for me to spin out any over-tedious relation.  
Your Majesty hath heretofore understood that I was born in the Frontieres of Judaea, where the Fortunes of my Father were such, that through the affluence thereof he had the means to purchase the estate of Lisanias, which was a small portion of that Country endued with sovereign power, and without appeal to any other Monarch than the emperor. Lisanias' had possessed it as such for a long time; but at last, having, for certain weighty considerations, exchanged it for some other estate which my Father had, and some moneys he had gotten together in the several employments he had gone through in the wars, my Father became the peaceable Lord of it, and I by that means came into a rank which rendered me the more considerable among my neighbours. I spent the first sallies of my youth in the Armies, and through the natural inclination I ever had to the wars, I gained therein some reputation. I was in that of Anthony against the Parthians; and being not merely a Soldier of Fortune, and minding Factions, I followed the Children of Pompey, against Augustus Caesar: and among other services, I was at that famous Sea-sight that happened between Menas and Menecrates. That war receiving a Period by the ruin of young Pompey, I sought out new employments elsewhere, visited the Courts of divers Kings, and at last came to yours. You were then but about 15 or 16 years of age, and it was not long after the taking of the King your Father. He honoured me very much with his kindnesses; but he being shortly after taken by Anthony, I had, in those attempts which, young as you then were, you made to procure his liberty, and afterwards to revenge his death, the honour to follow you, in a very considerable employment in your Cavalry; and I was so happy as to have it from your own mouth, that you were satisfied with my services, and accordingly received those presents, and acknowledgement from your liberality which I have had reason to celebrate ever since.  
But besides the inclinations I immediately conceived for a valiant and a grateful Pr●nce which engaged my stay in your Court longer than in all the rest, another thing that detained me there was the beauty of Elisena. I shall not need tell your Majesty, who remembers it ●ell, as having seen her, that that Lady was one of the greatest ornaments of your Court, that by her birth she was one of the most considerable, and that in poin● of beauty and desert, there was none comparable to her. A man cannot well imagine an● thing more amiable, or more excellent than her face, but the advantages of her mind were no less admirable, and the reputation of her virtue was generally known through the whole Court of Armenia. Thousands of persons sighed for that beauty; of which number, I had no sooner seen her, but I became one. My love increased from day to day, till at last, that passion became as violent in my soul, as ever it had been in any, though the most possessed by it. I entertained her with all the demonstrations I could of it, with respect, earnestness and assiduity; but she seemed to be little moved thereat, and discovered very little resentment for all those expressions of love which she received from all the rest who made their addresses to her. She was endued with a virtue which nothing could shake, and was subject to a modest kind of severity, which was proof against all passion. Her inflexibility at that time drew daily complaints from my mouth, and sighs from my breast; but if I was troubled at the small success of my own sufferings, I had still this comfort left me, that the Fortune of my Rivals was in no better a posture than my own, and that she seemed not to incline to any choice, other than that which she should be advised to by those to whom she ought her birth.  
But, to be short, my Lord, (why should I abuse your patience, by acquainting you with things that you know?) your Majesty was pleased to employ your authority on my behalf, you spoke yourself for me both to Elisena and her Friends. Insomuch, that about the same time, news being come that my Father was departed this life, and that I was absolute Lord of that little estate which he had died possessed of as a sovereign Prince, your Majesty was pleased to further my interests, made appear the advantage of my alliance, and, to the confusion of all my Rivals, though they were your own subjects, I carried away the fair Elisena and married her. The Nuptials were solemnly celebrated in Artaxata, and I had gotten into my possession that beauty for whom I had suffered so much, and in the possession whereof I found much more sweetness than I had imagined to myself. Alas! can I reflect on these things without dying, and, though my mind be grown brawny by reason of the accidents I have run through, and the barbarous employments wherein I have spent my life, Can I resist the resentment they should produce in me? I became possessor of Elisena, and with her of all the excellencies both of body and mind, that can be wished in one single person. Nay, what is contrary to what ordinarily happens, the possession increased my love, and through the more particular knowledge that I had of my Elisena, I discovered a many excellent qualities which I had not observed before in their full lustre. After I had made some stay in Armenia, I took leave of your Majesty, I departed, and carried away my dearest Elisena, that she might take possession with me of that little estate which my Father had left behind him. I was there received as their sovereign, and began to lead the most pleasant and delightful life that could be imagined. Thus far, my Lord, hath my life been known to you, thus far was it innocent.  
Now may your Majesty be pleased to understand what hath happened to me since, and to have so much goodness for me as to charge my adverse Fortune with some part of my crimes. In my little retirement with my Elisena, I knew not what meant the ●●●st disturbance from abroad, and enjoyed all imaginable felicity at home. My government, though of no great extent, was such as I was content with, and though it were envied by Herod, who was too powerful a neighbour for me, yet with the assistance and protection of some others, I could make a shift to maintain my own, the love I had for Elisena having had such an influence over me, that I had given over all thoughts of the wars, to which I had before sacrificed all my inclinations. My amiable Elisena, though she had married me purely out of the compliance she had for the commands of her Friends, yet had ever after so much accommodated her affections to her duty, that she had an extraordinary love for me, assoon as she was convinced that she ought to love me. Accordingly might it in a manner be said that we were inseparable, for that at all hours of the day, whether we stayed in the chamber, or w●nt a walking, or a hunting, whither I carried her sometimes, and in all manner of divertisem●nts, Zenodorus was never seen without his Elisena. Heaven itself, I fear me, envied our felicity: or, it may be, I was not born for that pleasant kind of life, and those who know me at this day, would find it no small difficulty to imagine, I could ever spend my time as I did then.  
The first year of our marriage was not yet run about, when, among those persons whereof our little Court consisted, I took notice of a young man lately come thither, for sanctuary, as he said himself, against certain enemies that were more powerful than himself, who had forced him to leave those places where he was born, and who, having been very courteously entertained among us, set up his staff there. He was called Cleontes, and this I may truly say of him, that of all the men I ever met with, I never saw a handsomer, or a more gentile person, in all his actions, nor a more amiable in all that appeared outwardly of him. Suitably to these good endowments, ●e immediately insinuated himself into the affections of all the World, in so much, that there was no divertisement appointed between persons of either sex, but the am able Cleontes was invited thereto. All the world courted him, all the world spoke well of him, and all the world were extremely desirous to oblige him. He very pleasantly received those demonstrations of kindness and friendship which were rendered him: and though he seemed not to be above eighteen years of age, yet did he discover such prudence and conduct in his behaviour, as is seldom in persons of a far greater age. Yet was this particularly observed in him, that, slighting ordinary persons, nay indeed many Ladies, by whom he was not a little courte●, he enjoyed himself in no other conversation, but that of Elisena, whom he accordingly honoured with his constant attendance. In so much that at last he got a haunt of visiting her so often, that he was in a manner perpetually in her company. And whereas it was none of the most inconsiderable perfections of Elisena, that she was admirable in matter of discourse, and that Cleontes was infinitely pleasant in that kind also, they passed the best part of their time away with abundance of mutual satisfaction. Among all ●●e re●t that perceived it, I took notice myself of the great kindness and familiarity that was between them, but at the first looked on it without the least disturbance, and out of the extraordinary opinion which I had of the virtue of Elisen● I not only harboured not the least suspicion of them, notwithstanding all the compliances▪ services, and constant addresses which Cleontes had for her, but also took notice, without the least worm of jealousy, that Elisena looked very favourably on him, and dissembled not the pleasure she took in his company beyond what she did in that of divers other persons that came to see her.  
Several months were past and gone in this manner, before ever I conceived the least suspicion of the demonstrations of friendship that passed between them; and though I was indeed of opinion that their familiarity was greater than there ought to have ●een between a person of the quality of Elisena, and a man of the age and beauty of Cleontes, yet did I attribute their weaknesses to their youth, and the friendship which Elisena naturally had for persons of good pleasant wits. In a word, their manner of behaviour made greater impressions on other men's minds than it did on mine, and among the many persons that conceived an ill opinion thereat, there happened to be some indiscreet enough to act the part of the unlucky crow, and to bring me the tidings of my own unhappiness▪ One above all, a person I very much credited, egged on by an imprudent zeal, came to me on a day, and pumping, not without some difficulty, as I could perceive, for words wherein to dress his expressions the more modestly; My Lord, said he at last, is it possible your voluntary blindness should be such as must reduce your most faithful servants to a necessity of giving you those discoveries of their fidelity which they cannot do without regret and violence to themselves? Or are you resolved not to open your eyes to see what is done against you, while it is yet in your power to remedy things by mild and gentile courses, and that evils are not come to their extremities? Observe my Lord, after what manner Elisena and Cleontes live together, and spare me the confusion it will be to me to tell you what follows.  
This was the discourse of that indiscreet person, which yet had this effect upon me, that I could not have been more cast down, had I received a mortal wound. However I did what I could to smother the resentment I conceived at his words, and thought it enough to tell the men, that we ought not to pass our judgement so lightly of a thing that might ●● innocent; that I was confident of Elisena's virtue, and if, through the pardonable eruptions of youth, she had been too familiar with, and too liberal of her company to Cleontes, I could not thence safely infer it proceeded out of any unjustifiable design or intention. This I spoke to him with a countenance wherein yet he might have observed some part of the effect of his own discourse, and, having dismissed my intelligence, I would be the more at liberty to make reflections on the knowledge he had given me of my own misfortune. It began to magnify in such manner to my apprehension, that my soul for some minutes was as it were in a tempest, and my mind overcast with such clouds as darkened all its former light, the better to dispose it to receive melancholy and fatal impressions. All that before had seemed so innocent to me, presented itself now to my thoughts under another form, and calling to mind all the occasions upon which I had observed too great familiarity between Elisena and Cleontes, I was astonished at my own blindness, or rather inadvertency, and upon that came to my memory a hundred circumstances which I condemned all as criminal. O ye gods, how did this fatal discovery eat into my heart, to make a place there for the greatest grief it could be capable of! And what deplorable effects did that self-tormenting passion immediately produce there? This black impression wrought a kind of Metamorphosis in me, insomuch that I was become quite another man than what I was some days before. Being thus convinced of my want of circumspection, and consequently of my misfortune, I railed at Fortune, I quarrelled with heaven, and I took any occasion to discover my affliction. Is it possible, said I, that one that is so dear to my heart, this great example of virtue and conjugal love hath so soon turned bankrupt as to all virtuous inclinations, and lost all the affection she had promised me? Or if she never were virtuous, nor had any real affection for her Husband, is it possible she should be so well read in the art of dissimulation as to conceal it from a man's knowledge with so much artifice for so long time? How, can that Elisena, to whom I had absolutely sacrificed my heart, that Elisena, for whose sake only I love my life, prove unconstant to me, and it may be, dishonour me? O inexpressible cruelty of my destiny against which it cannot be expected my courage should be able to rescue me! O Heaven! O Fortune, what resolutions would you have me to take? Shall I ever be able to hate what I have so affectionately loved; and from hatred can I proceed to revenge, against an object so dear to my heart, and that the only object of all my affections? But if I do not, I shall be insensible of the perfidiousnes of an ungrateful woman; and can I with an unparallelled baseness endure those extraordinary affronts which must needs blast my honour for ever? Hatred, Love, you that divide my heart between you, let either one or the other give place, and persecute not my soul with perpetual uncertainties and irresolutions.  
Many days did I spend in these reflections and discourses, while in the mean time my countenance began to change with my humour, and the alterations that happened, there, was so observable, that all the World took notice of it. Elisena was one of the first that observed it, and by all demonstrations and expressions of love took occasion to discover the grief she conceived thereat; but her carriage towards Cleontes was still after the old rate. And whereas my ●ies were now much more open than they were before, and discerned all things after another manner than I had done in times past, methought, I could perceive in all her actions, so much tenderness, and so much love for Cleontes, that I made it no more a question, but that I was as unfortunate as I had imagined myself. I saw the whole day in a manner was little enough for them to spend together; they had ever and anon some secret or other to communicate one to another, and when they were at too great a distance to speak one to another, they discoursed by their eyes: and cast looks at one another that were more eloquent than any thing of conversation, and this to the observation of all the World as well as myself.  
This alteration seemed very strange, insomuch that all those that had known Elisena a little before could not without an excess of astonishment, make any comparison between these sallies of lightness and liberty and her former reservedness and modesty. True it is nevertheless, that notwithstanding all those demonstrations of affection that past between her and Cleontes, her carriage towards me was as it had been ever before, and I could never perceive either from her discourse or her countenance, that there was any abatement or remission in her love towards me, or that she was less taken with my person then at the first hour of our marriage. Her caresses, and her insinuations were still the same, she spoke with the same sweetness, and acted with the same compliance, save that she did it not so constantly as in times past, that she left me often to go and discourse with Cleontes, and bestowed on his entertainment the best part of those hours which she had before only devoted to mine. At last, my grief was seconded and reinforced by my resentment of those things, and after I had been a long time sad and melancholy, I became at length exasperated, and studying how to be revenged of Cleontes, I began to discover to Elisena, how that her caresses had not over me that influence they were wont to have, that I looked on them as the pure effects of artifice and dissimulation, and that I felt my soul changed from the love I sometime had for her, to the passion that was most contrary thereto. I gave over looking kindly on her, I took a bed by myself, and by degrees forbore all discourse with her.  
She seemed to be as much troubled at this alteration as the most affectionate woman in the World could possibly be, and gave me all the demonstrations of a grief as violent as any soul can be able to endure. She used all the insinuation that could be, she melted into tears, and omitted nothing, which she could imagine might persuade me that she was really moved. In some intervals, I was extremely sensible of those expressions of her affliction, and those imperious remainders of love that were yet left in my soul did partly produce therein the effect she desired; but a little after, through the cruel prejudice that had taken root there, all was dashed out again, and I had no more regard to what she did then, as if it had been mere personation and sycophancy. At last, after a many day's silence, she would needs force me to speak, and having found me all alone in my chamber, whither I was often wont to retire since the change of my humour, she runs to me with her face bathed in tears, and grasping both my hands, with an action full of earnestness and passion; Ah, my dearest Husband, said she to me, shall I be any longer unhappy, and not know the cause of my unhappiness? And will you by so many several expressions make it appear to all the World that I am odious in your sight, and not acquaint me by what horrid misfortune I have lost your affection? Am I less worthy of it now than I have been formerly by reason of some defect which you have discovered in my person; or have I made myself unworthy of it by any offence I have committed against you?  
To these words she added a many others, no less earnest, and pressed upon me so far, that I could not forbear making her some answer. Madam, said I to her, methinks you take abundance of pains to express with your tongue that which hath no acquaintance with your heart, and if my quiet had been so dear to you as you would make me believe, you would not have utterly ruined it by your own cruel inconstancy. 'Tis enough for me to be miserable, and not that you should aggravate my misery by your dissimulation, and you ought to be satisfied with what I have suffered hitherto, and not put my affection to greater trials.  
Elisena seemed to be extremely troubled at these words, as I could easily observe in her countenance; but mustering up all her strength together to recover herself, My Lord, said she to me, it is not any change in me that disturbs your quiet, or may have been the occasion of that which is happened in yourself. The gods are my witnesses, that I am the same woman to you that ever I was, and that my life is innocent even to the least thoughts. It is very strange, replied I, that the thoughts should be innocent when the actions are criminal, and that when they appear such not only to the eyes of a Husband, but to the eyes of a thousand other persons.  
These words were a little indigestible to Elisena, so that she took a little time to ruminate upon them without making me any answer, but with the countenance of a person recollecting and examining herself, to find out wherein she had offended. At last, looking on me with an action which spoke something of clearness and confidence, Can it be possible, said she to me, that the cause of my unhappiness must be no other than the demonstrations of kindness and friendship which have passed between me and Cleontes! And knowing me so well as you ought to know me, is there any possibility that you should persuade yourself, that in the good entertainment I make him, there can be any thing criminal or unhandsome? The demonstrations of your affection towards Cleontes, replied I, are so public and so remarkable, that you need not pretend so much astonishment, that, when all the World had taken notice of them, they should at last come to my knowledge; and you ought to be so much the less surprised at the effect they have wrought on my disposition, if you but reflection the love I have had for you.  
This proved another bone for her to pick, so that she could not make any answer thereto till that she had been silent a good while, with an action that discovered her uncertainty, and loss of resolution. At length, lifting up her eyes, which she had all the time before fastened on the ground, and directing them on me with a countenance much more settled and serene than before: My Lord, said she to me, when I recollect myself, and call to mind things that are now past I much acknowledge, that there hath been some want of prudence in my carriage, and if I have committed any fault, no question but it hath been out of the excess of confidence which I have had in your love. I cannot deny but I have entertained Cleontes with very great demonstrations of a particular esteem, nay, I confess that I have still abundance of respects for him, as well upon the account of his own worth, as for other reasons which oblige me thereto, and which I shall acquaint you with, when you shall give me leave to do it: but I call all the gods witnesses of my innocence, and desire them to send me some exemplary death before your face, if ever I have injured you as much as in the least thought, or ever discovered in Cleontes any design or intention that you might condemn. I freely give you leave to take away my life, if in process of time you find not my words true, and will accordingly be sorry for the injury you have done me. In the interim, I conjure you to restore 〈◊〉 your affection, the loss whereof is much more insupportable to me then would be that of my life. And since you have not taken it away from me but upon unfortunate apparences, which rather argue my imprudence than bad intentions, I shall make such provision against the like for the future, that you shall not have the least occasion to suspect me.  
This was the discourse of Elisena, but uttered with so much assurance and serenity, that I began to be persuaded she might be innocent; whereupon that love whereof there were still some remainders in my heart speaking to me on her behalf, with as much force as her words, dispelled by little and little some part of my suspicions, and if it could not absolutely clear them, and make it a bright day in my mind, it did at least put me into such a posture, as that I was willing to hearken to what it suggested to me for her advantage, and to expect her justification from time, in stead of condemning her from what was passed. I immediately acquainted her with all the transactions that past in my soul, promising, that in case I should find her as innocent as she would persuade me she was, I should love her with the same passion that I had ever had for her, and she entertained that promise and assurance with such demons●r●tions of joy, that I could not at that time suspect her guilty of any artifice.  
From that day she began to live after another rate with Cleontes, that is, with much more reservedness and distance than formerly; she forbore all secret meetings, and private discourses with him, and entertained him no otherwise than as civility required, that such a person as Cleontes should be. This alteration occasioned a change in my humour, and I began to recover the rest I had a long time wanted, and was convinced that Elisena, having been a little extravagant through the imprudent sallies of youth, had by the strength of her own virtue and good advice recovered herself. I also, for my part, carried myself towards her as I had done formerly, and expressed my love to her with the same earnestness as I had done, before my mind became disordered by jealousy.  
This lasted for some months, during which time we lived together with as much delight as can be imagined: but not long after, the same person who had made the first discovery to me, came again to tell me of certain kind and amorous looks, and other circumstances whence he concluded there was a secret intelligence between Elisena and Cleontes. Now my disposition being before prepared for impressions of this nature, I entertained them much more easily than at the first time, and observing myself, that there was a certain violence in that reservedness of Elisena, I fell into my former humour, and that so violently, that I was likely enough to fasten on any desperate resolution.  
When Elisena was sensible of the alteration she soon took notice of in my countenance, and would know the reason of it, I answered her with nothing but bloody reproaches, and the passion I was then possessed with, furnished me with all the words I could desire upon such an occasion. Elisena heard them with much patience, and at last, when I had given over speaking, joining issue in the discourse with abundance of resolution, but a resolution full of modesty, and the demonstrations of that confidence which is ever the attendant of innocency: My Lord, said she to me, I thought I had reduced myself to such a behaviour towards Cleontes as you expected, and was of opinion, that I had entertained him no otherwise then I ought in pure civility to do. But since I have been so unhappy, either through my ill fortune, or my imprudence, there is now no dispute to be made of it, but the occasion must be removed, for the correspondence which is between Cleontes and me, is not of such consequence, as that we should thereby purchase the danger and inconveniences which are the effects thereof. I shall not therefore tell you that I will not see Cleontes any more, or that I will never speak to him again. No, this is not security enough for you, while Cleontes shall continue in your territories; no, he must not tread your ground; and though it speaks a certain barbarousness and inhumanity, to force away a person from the place where he had taken sanctuary against a malicious fortune, yet is not it considerable in comparison of the mischiefs which his abode here hath already, or hereafter, may occasion. I will therefore take it upon me to send him hence so as he shall never return again, and after the term that you shall appoint for his departure is expired, I promise you that neither you, nor I, shall ever see him more.  
These words of Elisena gave me some satisfaction, though I think she discovered some violence when she made that proposition to me, and so, resolved to grant it her. Well Madam, said I to her, if you expect that you and I should live together in any quiet, there is a necessity that Cleontes should be sent away. His longer abode here may haply involve us into some misfortunes which we shall do well to avoid, when it lies in our own power to do it; and therefore I shall entreat you to dispose him to leave us within eight days, that is the longest day I can afford him to provide for his departure, and to find out some other place for his refuge, and that time once expired, I beseech you let such order be taken that he may never be seen in our dominions again. I promise you to do it, replies Elisena, and I shall take occasion this very day to acquaint him therewith, and endeavour what I can to have things so carried, as not to raise among our Neighbours any suspicion of the true cause of his departure, With those words she went away and left me, but as she took leave, she expressed so much affliction in her eyes, that it was easy for me to judge, through the constancy which she so much affected, that it was not without a sensible regret that she was induced to dispense with the company of Cleontes.  
The next day I saw them speaking together, and I perceived they were very earnest in their discourse, and, in their gestures and looks, discovered much sadness. But conceiving all to be in order to his departure, I bore with their conversation, at that time, as also what they had in my presence the day following, during which time Cleontes took leave of his friends, alleging certain reasons to them for his so sudden leaving of them. The seventh day, which was just that day before his departure, guided by some unfortunate genius, and my own malicious fortune together, I would needs take a walk in my Garden. And being desirous of solitude, and at that very time reflecting on the uncertainty I was in as to what I should believe of Elisena, finding appearances of all sides, as well to demonstrate her affections to me, as to satisfy me of her infidelity, I went aside from those that followed me, and leaving them some in one of the fairest knots of the Garden, and others in the more spacious walks, I went into those that were most private and solitary, and so continued my walk in the most remote parts of the Garden. At the furthest end of the Knot, before mentioned, there is a little handsome Grove, and in divers places of the Grove, Arbours made of the boughs of trees plashed together. Coming near that which which lies at the greatest distance, I heard the noise of some people talking, and going forward still to come yet somewhat nearer, and listening with much attention, I could discern the voice of Elisena. The privacy of the place bred a little worm in my brain, and I immediately suspected there might be some unhandsome action committed; and not willing to let slip an opportunity; so favourable for the discovery of the truth, I crept softly between the trees, and coming near the Arbour with so little noise that I was not heard, I put my head close to the branches whereof it was made, and finding an easy passage for my sight, I presently perceived all that was done in the Arbour. O ye gods, what a spectacle, with what object were my eyes unhappily smitten with! I saw, my Lord, since I must rip up these dolesul passages of my life, I saw Cleontes set upon a little table that stood in the middle of the Arbour, holding Elisena standing between his legs, compassing her with his arms, while he was as amorously embraced by those of Elisena, and at the same time both giving and receiving thousands of kisses from him. Sighs, tears, and bemoaning empressions were the burden of their carcases, and reciprocally wiping off one another's tears, they reiterated their kisses with so much love, that a person, the least subject of any in the World to suspicion, would never have been 〈◊〉 but that there might be yet a further familiary between persons so passiona●●. Fo● my part, I made not the least question of it, and from that fatal spectacle, concluding my unhappiness undeniable, I gave way to the rage then gaining ground upon me, and 〈…〉 moment to consult upon the resolution I was to take to revenge my injured love, 〈…〉 the loss of my honour. I seldom went any where without my sword, & as ill fortune would have it, I had it then about me. I drew it, transported with fury, and running to one of the doors of the Arbour with so much haste, that those two amorous persons had hardly the time to break off their kissing; You must die, base perfidious wretches, cried I, you must die, and putting my fury in execution upon the first object that offered itself, itself, it fell upon the unfortunate Elisena, whom running with my sword in at the breast, there needed not much strength to force it in up to the hilts. Cleontes had the time to get out at one of the doors of the Arbour, &▪ had got away as soon as he saw me appear with all the speed he could make: but the unfortunate Elisena, who stood nearest to me, receiving the mortal wound, fell down at my feet in a torrent of blood, & ●s she fell, fastening on my knees, she held me so, that I could not get off from her to run after Cleontes. In the mean time Elisena expiring, strove as much as she could to speak, and with abundance of difficulty made a shift to bring forth these words. Zonodorus, said she to me, thou hast spilt innocent blood, which will cry out for vengeance against thee; but far be it from me to desire it of the gods, and I forgive thee my death, which my own imprudence, and thy want of recollection hath brought me to: thou wilt find that I have not injured thee, and therefore content thyself that thou hast taken away my life, and meddle not with Cleontes, who is ............ She would have said somewhat else, but ere she could bring it out, both voice and life had taken their leaves of her.  
This spectacle, you may well imagine was deplorable enough to move me to some pity, and the love which I had formerly had for Elisena, whom I saw expiring at my feet, beautiful even in her paleness, and, amidst the very looks of death, as amiable as ever she had been in her life, must in all likelihood force me to some compassion. But rage and fury being grown predominant over my soul, and I looking on the loss of my honour as a thing infallibly certain, and from the last words of Elisena, when she recommended unto me the life of Cleontes, and seemed so indifferent as to her own, drawing no other conclusion than that of the excessive love she had for him, my fury derives new strength from that cruel confirmation, and leaving the body of Elisena in the hands of her Women, who were come in at the noise, out of a place where they waited hard by, I pursued Cleontes, with the sword all bloody in my hand, that way that I had seen him run away. He was gotten far enough from me, and I should have found it no small difficulty to overtake him, if at the same time a noise had not been spread about the Garden, that Elisena was dead. At this unhappy, news Cleontes stays, not desirous to save his life after the misfortune which he had been the occasion of, as I came into the Knot of the Garden, I saw him coming towards me, tearing his clothes, pulling his hair, and filling the place with his lamentations. Instead of avoiding my sword he would run upon the point of it, and presenting his naked breast to me, he therein received the mortal thrust which ran him through and through. After he had gone two or three paces backward staggering, he fell down at the feet of a Diana of Alabaster, which stood at one of the corners of the Knot, and as he fell embraced it: Goddess of chastity, said he, receive this life which I offer up to thee, and if I slain it with my blood, thou knowest it is pure and innocent.  
There was something in these words that seemed so mild, and withal so mournful, that the better part of my fury was thereby abated; and while a many persons were running to the place where I was, the expiring Cleontes, turning his eyes from the statue, and fastening them on me: Barbarous man, said he to me, hope not that the gods will pardon thee the death of the innocent Elisena, though I forgive thee mine, and since I have not life enough left me to convince thee of her innocence, acknowledge it upon the sight of what I had never shown any man, and which thou of all mankind art the most unworthy to see. With these words, contracting together all the strength he had left, he made a shift to open, or to tear that which covered his stomach, and by discovering to us a neck and breasts, whiter than the Alabaster which he embraced, easily satisfied us that he was a Woman.  
Artaxus interrupting Zenodorus at this passage; Heavens! Zenodorus, said he to him, what is this that you relate to me, and what an unfortunate adventure was this of yours? Till now, though there were things deplorable enough in your relation, yet had I not been moved to compassion at any, and I thought there was so much reason in all proceedings that I could not bemoan the distiny of two persons whom I conceived worthy the chastisement they received at your hands. But these last words of your relation having changed the whole scene of the adventure, and though there lies no more guilt on you then there would have done, ●ad it been otherwise, yet I must confess you are so much the more to be pitied. You may very well think it, my Lord, replied Zenodorus, and with the same labour comprehend some part of what I was not then able to express. At that sight, that fatal sight, that fatal and too slow discovery, I was in a manner more like a dead carcase then those I had deprived of life; and not able to oppose all the passions which then made their several assaults on my soul with as much violence as can be well imagined, nor express them by word●, I was almost grown immovable and senseless in the arms of those persons that were about me. I apprehended myself at the same to be the murderer of two Women, of two beautiful and amiable persons, and two innocent persons, whereof one had been my own Wife, whom I had loved as dearly as my own soul, and the other merely upon the account of compassion had already raised in me an affection towards her. This demonstration of the innocence and fidelity of Elisena, did at the first reflection on it stick a sword into my heart, much more cruel than that wherewith I had pierced her breast, and the sight of that unfortunate person, now no more Cleontes, but one of the handsomest Ladies in the World, wounded my soul with the most violent affliction that it is capable of: Certain it is, that some other person, endued with a greater tenderness of mind than I, who have ever been of a fierce and harsh disposition, had not survived so deplorable an accident, and yet, such as I was, I really felt in my heart whatever a lively and piercing grief can have in it of torment.  
After I had recollected myself for some time in the hands of those persons who had taken away my sword from me, as having gathered from the fury of my looks, that it was not unlikely I might do myself a mischief▪ I drew nearer to that expiring Lady, making signs to others to endeavour to help her, when perceiving my intention, Stand away, cruel man, said she to me, and come not near me. Thy assistance is more hateful to me then the death thou hast given me, and since the unfortunate Elisena, whose death I have unhappily been the occasion of is no 〈◊〉 ●iving, oppose not the last demonstrations of the friendship I had for her, and suffer 〈◊〉 to expire without any other regret than that of having sacrificed to my misfortune, a 〈◊〉 so virtuous as she was. O Elisena, Elisena, since my last kisses proved so fatal to thee▪ learn among the dead, where I am coming to enjoy thee again, that I was 〈◊〉 to survive thee, and that I run after thee to continue among the shades that friendship which was so dear to us here.  
As she uttered these words, she saw passing by the body of Elisena, which they were carrying out of the Garden, and at that sight, crying out louder than her weakness could bear, she withal sent out her last breath in the arms of those that were come about to relieve her. Among those that came immediately after, a young Gentlewoman that served her, and who after her example disguised her sex by man's clothes, casting herself upon the body as soon as she could get near it, made the air echo again with her cries and her lamentations, and did a many things worthy compassion; which I was not in a condition to take notice of, for that at the sight of the body of Elisena, which they had very indiscreetly caused to be carried close by me, I grew absolutely senseless and distracted, and was conveyed away and cast upon my bed, where I was carefully looked after, out of a fear I should have fallen into despair. When I had a little recovered myself, I ran to the place where they had laid the body of Elisena, and giving it thousands of kisses with an affection equal to that I had for her at the beginning of our unfortunate marriage, I did all that lay in my power to die near her, and have a thousand times since wondered, that my grief alone should not be strong enough to do that which no doubt I should have done with my sword, had I been left at liberty. Her innocency and her virtue being then but too too well known to me, I became a continual prey to that remorse, and those implacable furies which unmercifully torment the soul; and, looking on myself as a Dragon, or some horrid monster, I made against myself the most terrible imprecations, that a man could make against his most inveterate enemies.  
From the body of Elisena I went to that unfortunate companion and partaker of her death; and though I had not had any affection for her while she lived, yet had the unhappiness of her destiny such an influence upon me, and she had appeared to me so amiable, even in the last minutes of her life, and in the last words she spoke, that my soul was possessed by something greater than compassion, and I was no less liberal of my tears for her death, then for that of Elisena. When I was so far recovered, as that I could apprehend any thing was sad to me, I was very desirous to know who she was: and the Gentlewoman that had waited on her and who after her death had no reason to conceal what she had kept secret while she lived, being brought before me, though she could not look on me without horror and detestation, and being informed what my desires were, gave me this account of her, Since you are so desirous to know, said she to me, who this unfortunate woman, whom you have put to death, was, I shall soon satisfy you to your sorrow, for with that you sha●l know what enemies you have raised yourself by your cruelty, She was born among the Parthians, of an extraction that is equally noble with any of the subjects of Phraates, and was allied on both sides to the Illustrious Family of the Arsacides. Her name was Artesia, and her beauty such, when it appeared in its meridian lustre, under clothes suitable to her sex, that the World can afford but few comparable to her. She hath neglected it very much ever since, and indeed hath had no great reason to be much in love with it, because it hath proved the occasion of all the misfortunes that hath happened to her. Being brought up about the Queen, as a Princess that could claim some kindred to her, and having in a short time discovered to the whole Court, as well the beauty of her countenance, as that of her understanding, she was there generally beloved; but indeed much more than she desired to be, insomuch, that the amiableness of her person having inflamed Phraates with an affection towards h●r, she became accordingly the object of his cruel persecution. She endured the torment of it for some time with an admirable virtue, and endeavoured to smother the extravagant inclinations of the King, by all those ways which in any other soul might have produced that effect. But her modesty and resistance adding to the eagerness of the King's love, he would at last needs come to violence, and without any consideration of the nobleness of Artesia's blood, which was no other than a branch of his own, he laid a design how to put his wicked resolutions in execution upon her. This virtuous Lady, whose Father had been dead many years before, destitute of all protection against her King, and that such a King, as to whom, after he had put to dea●● his own Father, all crimes ought to be easy and familiar, had no way but to fly, to deliver her virtue from that tempest, and there being no way for her to conceal herself from so great a King, but by disguising her sex, she put on man's clothes, and causing me to do the like, 〈◊〉 only me along with her in her flight, and two ancient man-servants of her Fathers, whose fidelity she was confident of. After several journeys to and fro, wherein she had still inviolatly kept the secrets of her adventure, she at last came into your territories. It was not her design●● make any long stay therein; but she immediately charmed by the virtue of Elisena, and in process of time coming to a perfect knowledge of her, and conceiving her a person with whom s●● might safely enter into solid friendship, and in whom she might repose a great confidence, s●● discovered herself to her, acquainted her with her Fortune, and revealed to her what s●● had so carefully concealed from all the World. Elisena entertained these demonstrations of her affection and confidence with an admirable goodness and offered her all the assistance th●● lay in her power. This was merely the effect of her generosity as to a stranger; but not long after, the virtue and excellent endowments of Artesia having wrought their effect on the spirit of Elisena, as those of Elisena had upon that of Artesia, it became the cement of such a perfect friendship between these two amiable persons, that the present age could hardly have furnished us with a nobler example. The mutual demonstrations which they gave thereof one to another, with less circumspection than persons, whose intentions are criminal, ●●● w●nt to observe, raised jealousy and suspicions in you, insomuch, that upon the first 〈◊〉 you made thereof, they consulted together, and considered whether ●● were safe to discover the truth to you, and acquaint you with the sex and 〈◊〉 of Artesia. But after 〈…〉, Elisena herself thought it not either safe or seasonable, and k●●●ing that you 〈◊〉 some fear of the power of Phraates, and that your tetrarchy ●ying ●e●r 〈◊〉 E●p●r●, it concerned you very much to hold a good correspondence with him, did not 〈…〉 that secret should be communicated to you, as being in some 〈◊〉, th●● either 〈…〉 obligation upon Phraates, or to avoid the occasion of making him your 〈…〉 discover to him that Artesia was in your power, and haply have sent h●r back to him. The sincere friendship which Elisena had for Artesia, inspired her with that fear, which indeed became so great afterwards, that upon your relapse into jealousy, and the second discoveries you made thereof, she chose rather to be deprived the sight and company of her friend, than that you should be acquainted with the secret of her life, and consequently expose it to any danger. This separation could not but occasion a violent grief on both sides, insomuch, that when you unfortunately took them in the Arbour, they were taking their last leaves one of another, with th●se demonstr●tions of friendship which proved so 〈◊〉 to them. You are but too well acquainted with what followed, I desire to be excused as to any further discourse with you, and your leave to return to that body which I so much loved when living, to render it my last services, and to take some course for the carrying of it away out of▪ cruel country, and, since it is now beyond all fear of the violences of Phraates, dispose ●t among the monuments of her Fathers.  
Such was the discourse of the desol●te Gentlewom●n, whereby coming to understand as well the extraction, as virtue of Artesia, I felt 〈…〉, which I thought violent enough before, assuming new strength torment me the more. I was in a perpetual posture of sighing and sobbing, which being pe●t up in the crannies of 〈…〉 forced out their way with the greater violence, bringing forth with them words so ●●●●ful, that it raised a certain compassion in all those▪ who upon 〈…〉 of my mistake had conceived a horror for me. I continually 〈◊〉 upon 〈…〉 of Elisena and with that of Elisena, I oftentimes brought out th●● of Artesia, whose lamentab●● adventure I was no less troubled at, than I was for the loss of my Wife, whom I 〈◊〉 thought so amiable, and accordingly so dearly loved.  
I shall not tyre you, my Lord, with ●edious discourses of my complaints, or with relations of all those things which I did for some days, during the extravagance of 〈◊〉 affliction, and shall only tell you, that those who know me at this present, and 〈◊〉 what course of life I have led for these many years together, would not 〈…〉 lief the strange effects it wrought in me. The Gentlewoman, who had waited ●● ●●tesia, and her two ancient servants, having caused the body to be embalm●● 〈…〉 away into their own Country; and that of my Elisena, was disposed into a 〈…〉 nument which I caused to be built for her. I visited it every day, and spent 〈…〉 in washing it with my tears, embracing the cold Marble, and doing 〈…〉 which sufficiently discovered my love, melancholy, and despair. There was no● nothing from which I could derive any comfort; in the day time I 〈◊〉 the society o● men, and in the night, me-thoughts I saw perpetually at my bed▪ he●●, the unfortunate images of Elisena and Artesia, showing me their wounds, and loading me with the most bitter reproaches that might be. During these imaginations, I was many times in a manner distracted, insomuch, that in time, if I were not grown absolutely m●●, I was at least so far gone, that I had nothing of mildness, nothing of a sociable humour left in me. By degrees I became more and more savage, and barbarous, much more than I was naturally inclined to be, and out of an imagination I had, that all the World ought to abhor me, I began to abhor all the World. Accordingly, from that time all things fell out contrary to my expectations, and my crime was such, that Fortune declared herself my enemy as well as men. The King of the Parthians, who was infinitely troubled at the death of Artesia, immediately resolved to ruin me, and Herod, who watched all occasions to possess himself of my Tetrarchy, to join it to his own dominions, whereof he conceived it should be some part, having no pretence of war against me himself, promoted underhand the designs of the Parthian King, gave a passage through his Country, to the Army he sent against me, and supplied them with provisions, out of hopes of getting my estate into his hands.  
Things fell out, in a manner as they had designed they should, so that I, who in the height and favour of fortune, had not been able to oppose the forces which the King of the Parthians sent against me, could hardly, in the misfortune, I was fallen into, lost as to friends, courage, and all things, make any resistance against them. The Parthians forced me out of my country, and Herod having gotten it into his hands upon some treaty there had passed between him and Phraates, he not long after went and begged it of Augustus, alleging that he had some interest in it, during the time that Lisanias was in possession thereof. It was bestowed on him, and he was put into possession thereof by the Emperor, who sent Sosius to settle him quietly in it, and who accordingly maintained him therein, against the pretensions of the King of the Parthians. This was the occasion of the difference wherein Phraates was so much exasperated against Herod, and which bred the war that hath happened between them since, and which was begun by Phraates not long after the carrying away of Phasela, and old Hircan.  
In the mean time I made a shift to get away with a certain number of ships, destitute of all friends and supply, nay indeed lost as to all things; for having applied myself every where for assistance, all proved ineffectual, all denied me. Insomuch, that, my mind exexasperated by the constant malicce of my Fortune, I became lost as to all virtue and morality; and thence out of an assurance I had that all the World were enemies to me, I became an enemy to all the World. While my grief, for the loss of Elisena continued strong upon my spirits, I was but little troubled at the loss of my Estate, and Friends; but when time had wrought some abatement of it, I could not, without indignation and rage, look on the change of my condition, and see Herod possessed of all I had, and so powerful through the authority of Augustus, who maintained him in it, and there was but little probability of ever getting it out of his hands.  
This put me upon resolutions of getting that elsewhere which had been wrested out of my hands at home, and having yet a number of ships under my command, I began to make a Sea-war; first against those only that had taken away my Estate, and afterwards against all Nations, without any choice or distinction of parties. I had gotten with me my Nephew Ephialtes, as valiant and daring a person, as ever followed this course of life, who contributed much to the carrying on of my design; insomuch that when I had by a great number of rich prizes, got together abundance of wealth, I bought more ships, and so reinforced my Fleet, and lured in a many Soldiers, who found better service and pay in our war, than they would have done in any lawful one. In fine, I became so powerful, that I had squadrons of ships on all Seas. Having made Ephialtes my Vice-Admiral in those parts of the Sea, which admitted not of any communication by Sea, we went and met by Land, having Horses and private retreats for that purpose. So that of a desolate man, and one that in all probability should have spent his whole life in weeping over a Tomb, I became terrible and dreadful to all Nations, the terror of all that had any business with the Sea, and famous for thousands of Prizes, which had made me the richest of all the Pirates that ever were. This course of life have I led for these ten years very near, and yet I shall not entertain you with the most considerable actions I have been engaged in, not only because it would require a long relation, such as possibly might prove very troublesome to your Majesty, but also for that I am confident you have already had some account thereof, and have, not without astonishment, heard of the several changes of my Fortune. I shall therefore only tell you, that during the space of ten years, that I have followed this trade, there happened not any thing memorable unto me, in comparison of what hath come to pass within these few days upon these very coasts, there having in a manner at the same time, fallen into my hands, two of the most beautiful preys that the whole universe can afford. And this I am confident you cannot but acknowledge, when I have told you that in two days time, I had in my power and disposal the fair Cand●●●, Queen of Aethiopia, and the Princess Elisa, the only daughter and heir of the great King of the Parthians. I took the Queen of Aethiopia, just at the mouth of the Nile; and this soul of mine, which since the death of Elisena, had not entertained the least impression of love, nor ever thought it could have been capable of any, remitted some part of its Forces, upon the first view of that Princess, and, by degrees, became absolutely subject to her Beauties. I was ignorant both of her name and quality; and yet love made me at first slight the proffers she made me of a considerable ransom, and when afterwards she told me that she was Queen Candace, I would not absolutely believe what she said, out of an imagination that she might take that name upon her, purposely to keep me within those terms of respect which she perceived I should not be long able to observe. During that uncertainty, I did all that lay in my power to persuade her to my will, and having found all the ways I took ineffectual, I hoped at last to effect my own satisfaction, by making use of the power I had overher, when that during the space of one night, which I had allotted her to fix on some resolution, this Princess, daring above her sex, and beyond all example set my ship on fire, which broke forth in several places, and cast herself into the sea within some few stadia of this river. You may well imagine what an astonishment I was in when it came to my knowledge that I had lost her in that manner. I made the best shift I could to repair the breaches which the fire had made in my ship, that I might the sooner make after her into this river, whither I conceived she might get upon planks, with the assistance of some men, who had cast themselves overboard at the same time with her.  
We were very busy a mending of our ships, when it was the pleasure of Fortune, (to make me some requital for the former loss) to send me a vessel, wherein was the Princess of the Parthians, which having with much ado escaped wrack in the great tempest that had been, and being not furnished with men to maintain her, came and ●ast herself into our hands. We boarded her without any great difficulty, and the first thing I was entertained with, was the shouts of certain slaves, whom I found to have been my soldiers, and some of those that I had left Ephialtus. They presently gave me an account of the death of my Nephew, and pointing to a person that stood near the Princess, they told he had been his murderer. I cast my eyes on the man, and not withstanding the admirable things I could observe in him, yet was I resolved his life should be sacrificed to the Manes of my Nephew, whom I had so dearly loved, and thereupon caused the points of all our swords to be tu●ned upon him. But good gods, how strangely did he behave himself! for passing through our arms without any fear, he comes up to me, taketh hold of me by the middle, and cast himself into the sea, with me in his arms. I was relieved and taken up again by my own men, not without much difficulty; but when I had recovered the danger, cast up the water I had drunk, and put on other clothes, the presence of a Beauty which all the World might admire, but that seemed o'erwhelmed with an insupportable grief, could not make me forget her, who may be said to have set my heart a fire as truly as she had done my ship. And thereupon resolving to follow her living, or find out her dead body about this river, I came hither, and landed with thirty of my men, leaving the fair prize I had taken in my Vessel, under the care of a Lieutenant whom I trusted her with. I wandered up and down the riverside all that day, and could not make the least discovery of what I sought, and the nextday, after I had spent some part of the day in the same enquiry, and having divided my men into several parties, in order to visit more places, I came at last, accompanied only by two of them, near a spring, where I saw two men engaged in a furious combat. They were both persons of an admirable goodly presence, their arms rich and magnificent; but there was nothing comparable to the valour wherewith they fought, but the animosity they expressed in the combat: One of the two had upon his arms, which glittered with gold, the Roman Eagle spread in divers places, and those of his adversary remarkable for certain Lions, causing me to observe his stature and action, I at last discovered him to be the same person that had cast himself overboard with me in his arms, and whom I had given over for drowned.  
I was at a loss what I should do upon this occasion, when, notwithstanding the attention whereto it might be thought the combat obliged him, he cast his eyes towards me; and immediately calling me to mind, he retreated a little before his enemy, and having said something to him, which I could not here, he left him, and fell upon me with as little mercy as a bird would on his prey. I was astonished at the violence of his proceeding, but though I had then no other arms about me but my sword, yet I saw there was a necessity I should put myself into some posture of defence. When I saw falling dead at my feet upon the dealing of but two blows, my two companions, who had set themselves before me; I must needs confess, that this sudden execution frighted me a little, and seeing myself without arms, to engage with a man armed all over, I was afraid to meet with him, and so made away from him as fast as ever my horse could carry me. I rid a great way, flying still before him, and he had very near overtaken me, when coming into a pleasant valley, I met with a person on horseback; very sumptuously and richly armed, who secured me from him, and in the very same place had I a sight of the admirable Princess, whom I sought after. I was not a little encouraged at this happy adventure, but being not in a condition to carry her away without some assistance, I returned to my companions, and having met with some of them, I came back again along with them into the Valley, and with their help carried away the fair Candace, on horseback. 'tis true, the greatest part of my soldiers, were killed by those valiant men that engaged with us at our coming into the place, insomuch that I had but one about me by that time I got to the river side. Here it was that I was satisfied as to the inconstancy of Fortune, who had treated me so oddly in one and the same day; for my ships were all gone, and casting my eyes toward the sea, I saw them at a good distauce, making as much sail as they could away. However I resolved not to quit my prize, and accordingly carried her into a Wood that was hard by, in spite of all the resistance the could make. At last having made a shift to get from me, while I was upon the point of recovering her again, I was set upon by divers men on horseback, and being run through with a sword, I fell down to the ground with very little hopes of life. That Soldier of mine who had followed me, saw me fall at a good distance from the place; and when our enemies were gone away with the Princess, he came back to me, meeting in his way with another party of his companions, which I had sent some other way, and had not been engaged in the fight we had had. They were extremely cast down to see what condition I was in, and perceiving there were some remainders of life in me, they carried me to a poor Countryman's house, not far from that place. This man was sent into the City for a Chirurgeon, having before engaged himself to keep all things secret, and my men having put them both into hopes of extraordinary rewards for the good they should do me, they have accordingly done as much for me as I could have desired them. I had about me both money and jewels to engage them to fidelity and attendance, and I must confess, they have done all things with so much good success and secrecy, that they have brought me into the condition you now find me in, without the least discovery of any thing.  
During the time I remained at that house, such of my men as had gone several times to Alexandria, purposely to see what news were stirring, brought me word that Candace was in Alexandria, that it was the Praeteor himself that had wounded me, and that the very same day those whom he had sent to Sea had taken my ships, killed all the rest of my men, together with my treacherous Lieutenant, and recovered the Beauty I had left with him, who had discovered herself to be Elisa, Princess of the Parthians. Till than had I been ignonorant who she was; but had learned Candaces name from her own mouth, as I told you before, though my people told me, that she was not known in Alexandria for any other than a Lady of great quality, born in Aethiopio, and one whom it was thought the Praetor was fallen very deeply in love with. In a word my Lord, having lost my ships, my men, and the noble prizes I had taken, with the assistance I have happily met with, I am gotten into the condition wherein you see me, and this very day, as I was thinking of my departure from that house, Aristus, seeking out where there were any provisions to be sold, comes in. We had been heretofore very intimate friends, and, notwithstanding the alteration, which so many years must needs have made in our faces, yet after we had looked a good while one upon the other, we called one another to mind, we embraced, and after we had enquired one after another what accidents or occasions had brought us into these parts, he told me, that your Majesty was hereabouts, and made me believe that my own service, and that of these men I have left me, might be worth your acceptance, and contribute somewhat to the furtherance of your designs. Whereupon I thought myself obliged to follow him, which I did with the greater joy, for that it gives me some occasion to satisfy you, that even in the midst of my misfortunes, notwithstanding all the changes I have run through, nothing hath been able to force out of my memory the resentment of your goodnesses, or the desire I have, by all the services it lies in my power to do you, to acknowledge them.   
The End of the Third Book.   

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA; OR, Loves Masterpiece. Part. IX.  
Lib. IU.  
ARGUMENT.  
The King of Armenia acquaints Zenodorus how he had brought away the Princess Cleopatra and Artemisa, tells him what designs he had upon them, and is encouraged in his enterprise by the Pirate. Artaxus is set upon by an Egyptian Vessel, for the deliverante of Cleopatra, and is like to gain the Victory, when an unknown person that was in Artaxa's ship, awakened by the noise, comes in to the relief of the Armenian, and forces the Egyptian to retreat. Having secured the Victory, he is known by Cleopatra to be Coriolanus, whereat she is almost distracted. Upon her reproaches to him for the disservice he had done her, he 'swounds, but soon after recovers, pleads his ignorance, and the innocency of his intentions. To expiate his crime, he undertakes to deliver her out of the hands of Artaxus, who thereupon sets his men to kill him, but upon the mediation of Cleopatra, he is proffered life and liberty. He refusing both, is again set upon, kills Aristus, Zonodorus, and divers others, and keep all in play so long, till a ship of Alexandria coming in quest of Cleopatra, comes to his relief, The ships being ready to close, Artaxus threatens to kill the two Princesses, whereupon the Egyptian Vessel, wherein were the Princes, Alexander and Marcellus, dares not fasten to the other. Artaxus would have put his barbarous design upon the Princesses in execution, but is miraculously prevented by Coriolanus, who thrusting him to the other side of the ship, sets himself before the Princesses. Marcellus taking his advantage upon that interval, board's the Arminian. Alexander would have killed Artaxus, but, upon the mediation of Artemisa, forbears; yet he, scorning life from an enemy, falls upon his own sword. Coriolanus is charged with, and, at last informed what his ancient infidelity to Marcellus and Cleopatra was, promises to clear himself, and is promised to be restored to Cleopatra 's affection. Marcellus, Alexander, and the two Princesses return to Alexandria, whither the body of Artaxus is brought by Megacles, who in his way set Coriolanus ashore, to find out some means to approve himself a faithful lover and servant of Cleopatra.  
THis was the conclusion of Zenodorus' discourse, and when he had given over speaking, the King of Armenia acknowledged his obligations to him for the proffers he had made him of his Services, and by way of requital promised him, that, as soon as they were arrived in Armenia, he would furnish him with all the assistance he could desire, either to restore him to his Estate again, that he might spend the rest of his life in quiet, or put him to Sea in as good a condition as he had been in some days before. Zenodorus told him on the other side, that it was neither prudence nor safe for him to make any stay in Armenia, because of the Friends of Elisena, who could not look on him without a certain horror, and therefore he relied more upon the hopes he had put him into, of his furtherances in that course of life which he was resolved to follow. Artaxus, who by this unexpected supply was twice as strong as he had been before, in men, not only well versed in Sea-affaires, but much acquainted with those coasts, was not a little glad of the adventure: and out of a design of engaging Zenodorus the more to serve him, he thought it not amiss to discover to him all that had passed, how things then stood, and related to him the manner how he had brought away the Princess Cleopatra and Artemisa, & how that his intentions were to carry them to Armenia as soon as the wind should serve.  
The Pirate was infinitely pleased to see a King fallen into that course of life which he had followed for so many years, and being almost out of himself for joy that he had such a companion, he encouraged him in his enterprise, and promised him success in it, or that he would perish in his Service. These two souls, near of the same making, were extremely glad at this renewing of their acquaintance, but Megacles, a person of a quite different disposition, and one that could not without a certain regreet endure the violences of his Master, looked on the Pirate with horror, and had shed many tears at the unfortunate adventure of the deplorable Elisena. Having therefore taken his rest (which he should otherwise have done out of a consideration of his indisposition) during the whole time that this relation had lasted, Artaxus, thinking it long since he had seen the Princess Cleopatra, rose up from his bed, and was going to her chamber. But before he was gotten into it calling to mind that virtuous unknown person in whose commendation Megacles had spoken such great things, and though he were of a cruel nature, yet upon the account of his courage, which indeed was very great in him, having a certain esteem ser noble and generous persons, he would needs give him a visit, and so went to the place where he was in his bed. The unknown person lifted himself half up at his coming in, for having heard the word King often spoken of in the vessel, out of an imagination that he might be the King himself who did him that civility, he received him with abundance of respect, and with as great demonstrations of cheerfulness, as might be expected from so deep a melancholy as he then groaned under. The place was something dark, and the day almost spent; but it was not long ere torches were brought in, by the light whereof the King soon discovered the gracefulness of the unknown person; which raised in him not only astonishment but much respect for him. The first discourse he made to him, was to express how much he was satisfied with the assistances he had received from Megacles, repeating some part of those proffers which Megacles had made him before: and the unknown person o● the other side, though he entertained them not as one that had any intention to make advantage of them, yet acknowledged how great an obligation he had laid upon him, and did it in such terms and with such a grace as raised no small admiration in the Armenian. Having understood by the account Megacles had given of him, that he was a person much inclined to Virtue, he though it not fit to let him know any thing of his carrying away of Cleopatra, as conceiving he might not approve of it, whence it may be inferred that Virtue hath this advantage, that even in the persons of the miserable, she raises a fear of herself in the most happy and most powerful. He told him that he had to his no small satisfaction understood, that since his coming into the ship, he had lost some part of that aversion which he had for life, or at least that he would not prove his own executioner as he had intended the day before. The unknown person made him answer, that as to matter of Life, it was no dearer to him than it had been, when he had endeavoured to rid himself of it; but that having called to mind certain obligation that lay upon him, to continue it till such time as he should be disengaged from it, he had resolved to make one attempt more to meet with some opportunity to do it, and consequently not die with a regreet of having omitted any part of his duty.  
That discourse ended, the King asked him whether he would go along with him, in a voyage he intended to make with the first fair wind, or if he had no inclinations to that, whether he had in some other design any occasion of his assistance? The unknown person made answer, that not able to imagine how he could do him any service by reason of the despicable condition whereto fortune had reduced him, and satisfied on the other side that being unserviceable he must needs be troublesome, he made no proffers of his company, but entreated him, that, ere they set sail thence, he would order him to be set somewhere ashore.  
Some further compliments passed between them; but at last the King remembering where he was to go, and impatient to see the Princess, put a period to the discourse, and having left the unknown to his rest, which he seemed very much to want, he went to the chamber where Cleopatra was. He came to her with a countenance wherein through the Love it discovered, was visible some part of the discontent he was in; and not able to dissemble the occasion of it: All things, Madam, said he to her, are contrary to me, all things oppose me, while you are against me, nay, the winds themselves, which seem to depend of another power than yours, will never turn to do me any service while I am hateful in your sight. You may thence also infer, replied the Princess, the injustice of your designs, since that where there is a want of the assistance of men, the very Elements fight against you. We must not always, replied Artaxus, measure the justice of the intentions by the easiness of the obstacles which we meet within the execution of them; and if you lay that down as a general rule without any exception, you must consequently reconcile Fortune and Virtue, who are seldom found to be very great Friends. I am of your mind as to that, replies the Princess, and if Fortune did take part with justice, and afford her assistances to Virtue, 'tis out of all question that you had been ere this punished for the violence you do me, o● at least I should not be your Captive. Ah, Madam, says the King of Armenia, do not call her my captive, who herself hath me in chains, and dispofes of me with a severaign power! I pray give me leave only to dispose of myself, says Cleopatra, interrupting him, since that there's no Law in the world that gives you any power over me. The Laws of Nations, replies Artaxus, are of much less authority than those of Love, and it is only to these latter, that men, such as we are, that like so many stars of the greatest magnitude, are of the highest quality, aught to submit themselves. By this law of Love, whatever my passion puts me upon, is justifiable, and all that I could allege, as concerning the affronts and injuries I have received from your house hath much less of argument in it than this imperious reason.  
It was with no small trouble that Cleopatra endured, not only the discourse, but even the presence of the King of Armenia, and notwithstanding her reservedness, no question but she had treated him with a great deal of scorn and contempt, had it not been out of a consideration of Artemisa, whose condition pitied her no less than her own, and a conceit withal, that there was no way to keep Artaxus within the bounds of civility and respect, but by an excess of patience. Supper was brought them in, and the King to express his compliance, permitted them to eat alone, as knowing they would look on it as a favour, and endeavouring by such behaviour to dissemble the resolution he had taken to make use of his power, when he were gotten off a little further from a Country where he was not over-confident of the safety of his prize. He spent some part of the night in discourses of the same nature with the precedent, and when he thought it time to leave the Princesses to their rest, he withdrew into his own chamber & before he lay down, gave order that a good strong guard should be set in the ship, to prevent all designs the Princesses might have to get away in the dark. The two Princesses passed away this night as they had done the precedent, save that they were in a much greater fear of their sudden departure than before, if it were not prevented by some unexpected assistance from Heaven, and the kindness of the winds, which did them all the favour they could. Artaxus, tormented with his Love, and a fear of losing his beautiful prize, could sleep but little. The unknown person disburdened himself of frequent sighs which were heard by some in the Vessel that were nearest him; And Zenodorus bursting almost with grief and rage for the losses he had received, had much ado to find any rest.  
The day hardly began to appear, when upon the first dawning of it, those who were upon the watch discovered a Vessel, which being gotten somewhat near them while the darkness was not yet dissipated, made all the sail she could towards them, as having a very good wind, that indeed in a manner forced them upon the shore. They immediately gave the alarm, and all being prepared, and in expectation of an engagement with the other ship, all that were able to bear arms, took them, and came up upon the deck in order to a fight. There were much more arms in the ship than were requisite for the number of men that were in her, insomuch that the Seamen who minded only the conduct of the ship, could not as she than lay be any way employed, as being in such a posture as they were loath to quit by reason of the advantage of the place, which was so advantageous that the enemy could not assault them but by one only side. Zenodorus and Megacles having put all into arms, and there being, as I told you, but one side to make good, they fortified it with men, and put it into such a posture of defence, that it was as defenlible as if they had had a far greater number of men. This charge did Zenodorus and Megacles take upon them, because of the wounds which the King had received not long before, whereby he was still a little indisposed, and would fain have had him kept his bed; but he would by no means take their advice, by reason of the great concernment which he had to make his party good, and accordingly starting out of his bed upon the first alarm, he called for arms, and came up upon the deck in the posture of a man that wanted not either courage or confidence. Zenodorus and Megacles walked up and down the ship, putting all things into good order, and Artaxus showing himself among his own people in a posture of fight personally with them, endeavoured to encourage them as well by example as by words. He omitted nothing of all that he thought might any ways animate them to fight, and promiseth them extraordinary rewards, if they behaved themselves gallantly, and came off with honour.  
During all this time the other Vessel drew nearer and nearer, and when it was come within a comp●ent distance, Zenodorus discovered by the ●●●g that it was one of those ships that belo●●ed to the Pr●●or C●rnelius, and which ordinarily lay in the port of Alexandria. This discovery exasperated him not a little, as calling to mind the wounds he had received, ●●● the great losses he had suffered by the same enemies; and thereupon he told Artax●● that he ●eed not quendon but he would be set upon and that infallibly it was one of t●e 〈◊〉 ships purposely set out by him in the pursuit of those that had carried away Cl●●●●tra. Upon this discourse, which made some of the company tremble, Artax●● 〈◊〉 the entreaties he had made to them to defend themselves to the utmost, and they all promised him, though possibly with unequal resolution, that they would stand to him, to the last drop of their blood. The two Princesses, who had awakened at the first noise that was mad●, and had, from what they had distinctly heard through the ship, easily imagined the truth of what had passed, got immediately out of bed, and betaking them to their devotions prayed the Gods to send them those assistances whereof they then began to conceive some hopes.  
In the mean time the vessel of Egypt being come up to the Armenian, the person that commanded it showed himself upon the deck very well armed, and having made some sign to show that he was desirous to speak with those of the other vessel before they engaged, asked him that commanded the Armenian vessel. Artaxus having showed himself to be the man and asked him what his business was with him; My business▪ said he to him, is to find out the Princess Cleopatra, and these that have carried her away▪ and if you are any of these, you are either to restore the Princess or prepare to fight. Art●●us would have been glad to avoid fight, as not conceiving himself strong enough to deal with his enemies who very much exceeded him in number; and accordingly making him answer, though not without s●ame and some repugnance. Those whom you seek said he to him, are not among us, and there is very little likelihood that any people having made such a prize should stay so near Alexandria, What you say, replies the other, may possibly be true, but we shall not take your word, and therefore must search your ship, which we are empowered to do by the orders of the Praetor and the authority of Caesar. Artaxus, exasperated at this discourse, and perceiving there was no way to avoid fight; I am not a person to acknowledge any orders, said he, nor k●●w I any authority, that should force me to commit a base action, and therefore if it be fight that thou desirest, prepare thyself for it without seeking any other pretences.  
These words were spoken so loud that they were distinctly heard by the Princess Cleopatra; and out of a fear that she was in least Artaxus might persuade those of the other v●sse● with fair words, and divert them from their intended design, she would needs show herself to them. Finding therefore the chamber door fast, she ran to a little window that was on one side of the ship, and opening as hastily as she could, she showed them her beautiful countenance, which seemed to shine a new day upon the waves, and lifting up her voice so as that she might be heard; Here, generous men, cried she, here is Cleopatra, whom you look after, I expect my Liberty from your assistance, and I beg it of you out of the compassion which my misfortune may have raised in your Souls.  
There needed no more to satisfy all parties so as to resolve upon what was to be done, insomuch that she was scarce delivered of these words but the Egyptian vessel had fastened her grappling irons in the other. The fight upon the first onset was very terrible, and so much the more cruel in that they were come to handy blows, those that ●●re come to rescue the Princess, having it seems purposely forborn to make use of arrows out of a fear they might hurt them. There being therefore on both sides a many gallant men, and those animated by considerable interests and concernments, they all fought with abundance of valour, insomuch that within a few minutes the waves were died with the blood of both parties. With the first rays of the rising Sun were seen the swords glittering, and the blows falling at the same time either on the Bucklers opposed thereto, or on those unarmed places where the steel found its passage to dispatch life. And whereas Artaxus and his men were only upon the defensive, and stood to their business close and covered with their bucklers, it was very difficult to force them and so to board the vessel. The first that came on of the enemies was cast overboard, and there fell more than one by the hands of Artaxus himself. He was gallantly seconded by Zenodorus and Megacles, though this latter fought with some regret upon so unhandsome a quarrel. But after some dispute, the number of their enemies being still greater than theirs, and being also better armed than they, and commanded by no less valiant men, and that of Artaxus' side there were but twenty fight men, and the rest only ordinary Seamen whom they forced to fight both against their wills and their custom, Fortune began to turn to their side who fought for the liberty of Cleopatra, and their Commander having with an unmerciful blow upon the head laid Zenodorus grovelling on the ground, and gained the places which he had forced him to quit, his companions took encouragement by his example, and victory seemed to declare herself for their side.  
Things were come to this pass when the unknown person, who rested himself upon his bed in the bottom of the Vessel, and perceived that through the rest he had taken he had recovered his strength, having heard the noise, and at length understood the truth of what was done, immediately got on his clothes. And though he seemed a person little concerned in what was done in this world, yet, his generosity being not quite extinguished by his misfortunes, he thought himself obliged to assist those men, who had done him such civil offices in his despair, and who were set upon in a vessel wherein he was with them. Possessed by this imagination, he stood not to resolve on what he was to do in that emergency; so that finding his sword lying by him, he took it, without any other arms, and comes up on the deck; where meeting with a buckler at his feet, he covered with it his left arm, and in that posture went towards those that were a fight. Just as he came in were Artaxus and his men ready to quit the place, and their enemies pressing very hard upon them, began to board the ship in several places. The unknown person stood still a little to consider how the fight stood, and perceiving what an ill condition they were in whom he was to relieve, he ran and set himself in the head of them, and by the first blows he dealt, let them know that in one single person, they had met with an assistance far greater than they could have expected. The two stoutest and most forward men of the enemy's side fell dead at his feet at two blows, and rushing in upon the rest with such a force as they were astonished at, he dispersed the most daring, in such manner, that in a few minutes, he brought the victory into dispute which had been before concluded for the other side. Artaxus and Megacles were immediately sensible of this assistance which had so much changed the face of their affairs, and, perceiving him to be the gallant unknown person mentioned before, because he fought without any thing on his face, and without any arms other than a sword and a buckler, they were overjoyed at the relief they had received in him, and looked upon him as some miraculous person.  
When he had by the first blows that fell from him scattered the most confident of the Enemy, calling Artaxus and his men to him, and encouraging them to prosecute the fight both by his words and examples; Take heart, said he to them, gallant men, fight with me for your own safety, and do not fear enemies that dare not stand before you. These words were seconded with such heavy blows, that there durst not any enemy appear before him; and Artaxus and his men having recovered a little of their courage at this miraculous assistance, came up to him, and began to fight again with abundance of valour.  
During all this time, the fair Cleopatra, who in a strange disquiet expected the success of a fight on which her liberty, and all the happiness of her life depended, after she had spent a good space in prayers to the gods for those that fought for her deliverance, would needs, if possibly she could, see them fight, out of an imagination that they might derive no small encouragement from her presence. To this end coming to the chamber door, which, during the time of the disorder of the fight, was not guarded, she found a means to open it, and to get up upon the stern of the ship. From thence she soon discovered how things had past, and perceived, much to her grief, that those of her party fled before the dreadful sword of the unknown person, and those others whom his example had animated, and that that man, without arms, by a prodigious valour, sweeping all that came before him, forced the others into their Vessel with much more speed than they had made to get into that of the King of Armenia; Woe is my lot, cried she at that sight, overwhelmed with grief! What man is this that the gods have armed against me, and why, if they are just, have they not made him one of those that came to my rescue, since that I might with more reason expect my safety from his single sword, than from the assistance of so many men, whom he puts to flight? Thus, continued she, sighing and speaking a little lower, did, not many days since, my unfortunate, or unconstant Coriolanus fight for me, and with the same valour would he fight again, had it but pleased the gods to send him to me.  
While she thus discoursed to herself the unknown person, whose valour she so much admired, and was withal so much displeased at, either flung his enemies over board into the sea, or forced out of the vessel what ever stood in his way; and, being at last come up to the Commander in chief of the contrary party, who had fought all this time very gallantly, he burdened him with such heavy blows, that notwithstanding his extraordinary valour, not able to bear them, he was forced to retreat towards his own vessel, and had gotten his foot into it, when he receives a blow on the head from the same dreadful hand, which made him fall to the ground among his own men, who reached out their arms to save him from falling into the sea. The fall of their Commander, and the death of the best part of their companions, put the enemies to a loss of all courage, and having as soon as they could, got their ship clear from the other, they made all possible haste away, and would meddle no further with either the victory or relief of Cleopatra. 'Tis inexpressible what affliction it was to the Princess, to see all the great hopes she had conceived vanish of a sudden, and with what resentments was she not exasperated against that valiant, though unknown, person, whose valour had proved so fatal to her? She looked upon him sighing, and when, after he had secured the victory, he turned his face towards that part of the ship where she was, which before he had always had upon his enemies, she cast her eyes upon him full of tears But, O celestial powers! What a strange astonishment, what an incredible surprise was she in, when in the countenance of that dete●table stranger to her, who had been the only hindrance of her liberty, and had returned her once more into the power of Artaxus, she saw that of Coriolanus? Here certainly all expression is too weak to make the least representation of what the felt upon that cruel discovery, and the strangeness of the accident wrought so violently on her, and put her into such a distraction, that having not the command of her constancy for some small time, she was upon the point to cast herself into the sea at the sight of that ungrateful person, and so to sacrifice to him a life which he had made so insupportable to her, by delivering her up to the most cruel enemy she had in the World. She looked on him for a good while together, out of a fear she might be mistaken, and found it no small difficulty to convince herself of that cruel truth. But at last being satisfied that her eyes did not deceive her, and that it was but too too certain that she saw no other than the true Coriolanus, she was out of all patience so far, that she discovered her grief by such circumstances and demonstrations of it as she was not able to conceal, and made the ship, and the hollowness of the adjoining rock to echo again with the noise of her lamentations. Is it possible, wickedest of men, cried she, that thou shouldest fight against the liberty of Cleopatra? This then is the innocence thou pretendest to, and wouldst have had me to believe; Or art thou not sufficiently satisfied with thy former treachery, which had armed the powers of Heaven and earth against thee, but thou must commit a second more detestable than the other, by being thyself the instrument to deliver her whom thou hadst so ungratefully forsaken into the hands of the greatest of her enemies?  
She had no sooner begun to speak, but Coriolanus, (for it was really Coriolanus himself) smitten with a voice he was so well acquainted with, had cast his eyes upon her with some precipitation, and perceiving it to be the celestial countenance of the Princess whom he adored, he became as immovable as a statue of Marble; and having, from the very first words she said, discovered the certainty of his unhappiness, that conviction of the malevolence of his destiny, wrought so much upon him, that immediately a deadly shivering running all over his body, the sword fell out of his hand, his eyes closed, and his strength leaving him of a sudden, he fell down in a swound upon the deck. The incensed Cleoapatra, had not lost her generosity, and therefore seeing him in that condition, though she was somewhat of opinion that that weakness might come upon him from some wound he had received in the fight, she gave those notice that were about him to have a care of him, since he had fought so well in their quarrel.  
Having so done, she found a place to sit down where she was, and leaning her amiable face on her two fair hands, she burst out into a rivulet of tears, and deplored the strange and extraordinary misfortune that had happened to her, by such complaints, as no doubt would have moved any soul with compassion, unless it were those of Artaxus and Zenodorus. Artemisa, who sat by her, would have comforted her, but not being able to do it, she wept with her for company, and was not afraid to displease Artaxus by participating in her lamentations. When the fair Daughter of Anthony had with much ado dispersed those sobs which made some resistance against the passage of her voice, turning upon Artemisa those fair eyes, which, though drowned as they were in tears, set all on fire in the ship, even to the hearts of unmerciful Pirates; Ah Sister, said she to her, what fortune was ever comparable to mine, by what means think you am I fallen into the hands of Artaxus, now the second time! That man whose innocence you pleaded so much, and were so confident of; that man from whom, inconstant as I had concluded him, I yet expected assistance, nay, that very man whom you saw, not many days since, fight so valiantly in our defence, by the same valour delivers us up himself, and that into his hands from whom he had before rescued us, the King your Brothers. Had it not been for the assistance of his fatal valour, we had been freed; and it was he alone that forced away, nay, haply, killed those that fought for our liberty. After such an adventure as this, never dispute with me a gain the greatness of our misfortunes, and find me but one example in the World that may be paralleled with this. I do not think it strange, that Artaxus, an implacable enemy of one house, and one that by his former inhumanities' had discovered the malice he hath against us, should treat me with violence and injustice: but that he who had sometime loved me so dearly, whom, to my confusion, I had loved beyond my own life, who had suffered so much for my sake, and upon my account, and had been the occasion that made me suffer so much myself, and to be short, that that only person who should have sacrificed thousands of lives for my liberty, should come and expose all he had against my friends and against my rescuers, purposely to return me into the chains and power of Artaxus, and not into his own! Ah Sister, this, this is what no ages ever produced any thing comparable to, and 'tis such a strange accident as I am not well able to comprehend, though my eyes can but too well witness the truth of what I have seen.  
While Cleopatra broke forth into these lamentations, and that Artemisa, astonished at the strangeness of the adventure, gave her the hearing, and wept with her without making any reply, Megacles and divers others were gotten about Coriolanus, endeavouring to recover him again, some others were employed in casting the carcases overboard, and to dress those that were wounded, whereof there was no great number. But before they went to visit them, having looked all about the body of Coriolanus, they could not find any wound about him: and, yet though they cast water in his face, and used several other remedies, all could not bring him to himself again. Megacles, who had the greatest respect of any for him, made it his business very earnestly to recover him, besides that when they reflected on the assistance he had done all that were in the vessel, all did accordingly conceive themselves obliged to relieve him. Artaxus knew not how he should entertain this strange emergency, and though his first motions were inclined to gratitude and acknowledgement, for the great services he had received from that valiant person, yet those which immediately succeeded them began to raise a terrible disturbance with him. From the words of Cleopatra, which fell from her in the violence of her grief, contrary to her ordinary prudence, he concluded that that man must needs be his Rival. But that grieved him not so much as to consider that it was a Rival very precious in the affection of Cleopatra, and the history of the King of Mauritania's Love to that Princess being a thing known all over the world, from the gracefulness, from the valour, and from all the other demonstrations and characters of a great soul that were discoverable in that valiant man, he was easily persuaded that it was Coriolanus, and consequently he that of all the world should be most his enemy, and whom he should accordingly be most jealous of in the love he had for Cleopatra. Yet could he not find in his heart to hate him so suddenly, as well for the considerable service he had received from him, as that from several circumstances it was very probable he was unfortunate in his affection, and that from the reproaches of infidelity which the Princess made him, he could infer no less than that that Prince had forsaken her. In this confusion of imaginations he was at such a loss, that he knew not what resolution to take, casting his eyes sometimes on the Prince that was still in a swound, and sometimes on the afflicted Princess. Besides, it being not his opinion alone, that the unknown was the very same person he thought him, it went from one to another, that without question it was the valiant King of Mauritania. So that, coming at last to the ears of Cleopatra, as incensed as she was against him; yet was she not a little troubled that she had by her discourse discovered him; and yet it being to no purpose to recall what is once past; You are in the right, said she, it is indeed the King of Mauritania, 'tis a perfidious man whom for a double infidelity I am obliged to hate above all mankind besides; but he is a Prince, how unconstant soever he may have proved to me, deserves your assistance for the service he hath but too fortunately done you against me, and therefrre since you have made some advantage of his treachery, you have as much reason to look, after him as I have to abhor him.  
To this effect was the discourse of this generous Princess; and though that in all appearance she seemed, not without very much reason, to be incensed against the unfortunate son of Juba, and to have made a strong resolution not to admit him into her affections again, but to avoid him as much as she could, yet could she not wish his death, nor endure the very thought that she should die for want of assistance. 'Twas for this reason that she aggravated his infidelity before Artaxus, purposely to make him the less odious in his sight, and to divert what after such a discovery he might well fear from the exasperated Armenian.  
The Prince was not all this while come to himself, and while Megacles was very busy and took a great deal of pains about him, one of the Armenians being come near him, and viewing him with a countenance swelled with indignation; instead of the assistance you afford this man, said he, with so much care and tenderness we should do well to run our swords into his breast. This is the very man that killed our companions not many days since, when we carried away the Princesses; and besides the lineaments of his face which I easily call to mind again: I have found about his bed the arms of my Brother whom he unmercifully killed in my presence. This was the discourse of the Barbarian, who could not but discover the malicious design he had against the Prince's life, when Megacles hearing it, and having authority over him, gave him such a look as upon which he immediately took occasion to be gone, with some threatening gestures, that sufficiently argued his resentment of it.  
At last, upon the application of several remedies, the King of Mauritania opens his eyes, and became sensible, and having gotten up, he scattered his scaring and extravagant looks on all those that were about him, and finding Megacles one of the nearest him, and one that made it most his business to assist him, he looked on him a while in such a manner as if he would express thereby how sensible he was of his compassion and good offices, yet were displeased at him for them? Will you ever be, said he to him, the cruelest enemy I have, by taking so much trouble upon you as you do for the preservation of mylife, and should you not rather have suffered me to die, since you are one of those that carried away Cleopatra. Charge me not, said Megacles to him, speaking very low, with a crime I have not committed, and confound not those who do things out of a consideration of the duty they owe their Masters, with those that serve them in their most unjust and irregular passions. Coriolanus thought it not fit to make him any answer and perceiving he had recovered his strength again, he gets up, and looking about for Cleopatra, he found her sitting in the same place where she had continued ever since they had given over fight. This second sight of her had almost put him into the same condition he had been in before, and reflecting on the disservice he had done her by opposing her deliverance and liberty, the grief he conceived thereat was so great, that he found it no small difficulty to support it. And yet he thought, that, as things stood, his only course was to muster up all his courage, and to summon all his virtue to his assistance, and after the short reflection of a few minutes, thinking himself in a better condition, that he met with Cleopatra in that posture, than that he should have lost her for ever, he took the best heart he could, and with a flow pace, such as argued the smallness of his confidence, he goes towards the place where Cleopatra was still set. She saw him coming towards her; and her indignation against Coriclanus being greater upon the recovery of himself, than her pity had been before, she could not endure he should come near her, and giving a look sufficiently discovering her displeasure; Stay there barbarous man, said she to him, and come not any more near a woman whom thy continua▪ treacheries expose to so many misfortunes! What canst thou hence forward expect from me, and what further mischief canst thou imagine yet to do me, after thou hast bestowed me on the King of Armenia. That Prince, inhuman as he is, and though the greatest enemy of our house, hath not betrayed me as thou hast, and I am much inclined to believe, that he would not give me to any other, as thou, with so much baseness, dost: Leave me therefore quickly to him, since that it is on him that thou hast bestowed me, even with the hazard of thy own life, and aggravate not my afflictions with thy abominable presence. This heart which so unfortunately received for thee those impressions whereof it should have been insensible for any other, favoured thee and argued on thy behalf, seeking out something, by way of justification for thee, while thou wert in arms for Artaxus against Cleopatra. Do not therefore think it much to afford her that comfort which she may derive from thy eternal absence, since thou hast for ever deprived her of all hope of any other, and imagine not, that after I have cleared my thoughts of the image of an uncounstant man, they can ever entertain that of Artaxus, for whom no doubt but thou art come to speak.  
The dejected and almost desperate Coriolanus, leaning against one of the Masts, harkened to this violent discourse of Cleopatra, having not the courage to make her any answer, and the Princess, attributing his silence to the confusion he might conceive at the horror of his crime, was the more inflamed into indignation; insomuch that she could not forbear to discover it in further reproaches, Tell me, cruel man, said she to him, by what offence had I so far incensed thee, as to deserve the unworthy treatment I receive at thy hands, and, if I were no longer worthy the affection thou wert pleased sometime to afford me, and which had wrought all the pleasure and felicity of my life, by what action, or by what defect, am I become so odious to thee, as that thou must needs sacrifice my liberty, life, and enjoyments to the most inhuman of all mankind; to him, whom of all men I should look on as the most detestable? Or if this proceed not from any hatred, which I know not how I should have deserved at thy hands, upon what account of friendship or interest, couldst thou do Artaxus a service so disconsonant to the precedent actions of thy life, and to that virtue which thou hadst sometimes the reputation to practise? Wert thou restored to the throne of thy Predecessors by the means of any assistances from the King of Armenia, or wert thou so deeply engaged to him that thou couldst not any way disengage thyself, but by presenting him, with that which thou hast sometime preferred before the Empire of the Universe.  
Thus did the disconsolate daughter of Anthony discourse, while the King of Armenia and all those that were about him gave so much ear to what she said, that they had not any of them the power to interrupt her; and the Prince overwhelmed with grief and confusion at the apparent justice of her reproaches, suffered the torrent of them to waste itself without offering to oppose it, and would not have presumed to open his mouth in his own justification, if the Princess had not given over speaking, to wipe the tears that fell abundantly from her fair eyes. The dejected son of Juba took the advantage of that interval to rejoin to her discourse, but it was with no small difficulty that he made a shift to speak, so much were his expressions in a manner smothered by sighs. I am satisfied Princess, said he to her, that it is not without some reason that I am so detestable in your sight, and since that by so many extraordinary demonstrations and by misfortunes so far exceeding those of the common rate, it may easily be perceived how odious I am in heaven's account, it is but just you should avoid the eternal object of its indignation, and have no farther commerce with a person so strangely destiaed to be miserable. I am guilty of the crime you lay to my charge, I cannot deny it, and in an accident so unfortunate I cannot stand upon my innocency. I have fought for your enemies, against you; I have with all the strength I was master of opposed your liberty, and I have been the means of your coming into the hands of a man whom you would have me look on as the King of Armenia. After the commission of such a crime, I cannot pretend any thing to innocency, and, when their effects have proved so deplorable, it were vain for me to plead the harmlessness of the intentions. But might it be once the pleasure of heaven, Madam, that the former treacheries you charge me withal, and for which I am undone; were so much within the reach of my knowledge as this 〈◊〉 which you reproach me with, I should not be as miserable as I am, since I should haply find somewhat to say for myself by way of justification in relation to those, as I can for this last.  
How is that, wickedest of men, said the Princess, interrupting him, dost thou think to find any thing by way of justification for a crime thou ha●● committed in my sight, or wouldst thou persuade me that I have not seen thee with thy sword drawn fight for my enemies against those that endeavoured my deliverance? Wouldst thou dazzle my own eyes in this, as thou wouldst those of all the World in thy former treachery, or is it thy design to persuade me that I am extravagant and out of my wits? It is indeed but too too true, replied Cori●lanus, that you have seen me with my sword drawn fight for your enemies, and I ●●y presume to affirm, that I haply made their way to a victory, which without my a●●●cance it is likely they had not carried. It is not therefore my design to justify the events, but only my own intentions, which if considered alone, I dare affirm myself innocent, if there can be any innocency in an offence whereof the success hath proved so fatal to you. You may be pleased to remember, that there are not many days past since I fought in your defence against the same enemies, whom I have this day served, and there is but little likelihood I should since that time have contracted any friendship with them to prejudice the love I have for you. For this man, said he, looking on Artaxus, whom you would have me take notice of as King of Armenia, he knows how that it is but some few minutes since I first saw him, and whether I discovered the least desire to be acquainted with him. And for those others, said he, pointing to Megacles and his companions, you may have haply learned from them, whether they had not recovered me out of the waves into which I had cast myself, from the top of the rock that covers us, through the despair which the loss of you had put me into. They can further tell you what trouble they had to make me admit of life, and they know, whether it were out of any other motive than that of gratitude, and a sense of the obligation I ought them for their assistances, that I took up arms in their quarrel when they were set upon. These truths cannot be unknown to you, all those that hear me are now become my enemies, since they are those that did you violence, and yet I appeal to them whether I affirm any thing which is not true.  
At these words he made a little stop, looking about him of all sides, and perceiving that Artaxus, being much at a loss to think of this adventure, expected to see what would be the issue of it without speaking one word, and that all those that stood about him were in the same posture, and suspense, continued his discourse to this effect. I know not, continued he, whether I wanted any love towards you, when I cast myself headlong into the sea, out of the regent it was to me that I could not relieve you, when it hath been known, that in other very considerable misfortunes, to which my life hath been exposed, I have never been charged with want of constancy to support them, but these very enemies that hear me, know whether, upon their earnest entreaties, I have prolonged my life out of any other desire then that of making one attempt more for the service of that person to whom the life they prolonged was devoted.  
As soon as Cleopatra began to find some probability in the discourse of Coriolanus, she had heard him very attentively, and out of the desire she had that he were innocent, she favoured him in her heart as much as she could; and looking on Artemisa, seemed as it were to ask her, whether she was not also in some sort convinced of the innocency of Coriolanus? Artemisa was very much inclined to that belief without any solicitation, and it was only by reason of the presence of the King her Brother, that she would not speak openly in his justification.  
In the mean time Coriolanus deriving a little more confidence from the silence of Cleopatra, as also from those discoveries which he perceived in her countenance of the disposition she was in to be persuaded of his innocence, reassumed the discourse with an action that argued a greater setledness of mind. You see then, Madam, said he to her, what I can say for myself, to justify my intentions: but for the effects, since they have proved so fatal in relation to your quiet, and that it is impossible to recall what is past, the reparation I am to make you, must be extraordinary. And therefore this very hand that hath done the mischief, must find out the remedy for it, and this sword, (continued he, putting his hand on the hilt of his weapon, which he had taken into his own hands when he got up) this very sword that hath put you into the power of the King of Armenia, aught to bring you out of it, or take away his life, were it to be done, not only in this vessel, but even in the heart of his kingdom. 'tis with this resolution that I cast myself at your feet, added he, coming near her, ready to defend you against him to the last drop of my blood, and it may be in a condition yet to give him his death in the midst of all his men, if he does not resign up to me what is mine, and restore you to that liberty against which I have so unfortunately fought.  
Artaxus had hitherto, with a great deal of patience harkened to all the discourse that had passed between Coriolanus and Cleopatra, and was content to hear the Princess charge him with cruelty, and declare that he was odious in her sight; but at this last discourse of the Prince of Mauritania, he thought his temerity and confidence insupportable, and accordingly looked on him with a malicious and scornful smile; Coriolanus, said he to him, I have passed by the first affronts I have received from thy presumption, out of a consideration of the service thou hast done me, and I have given thee leave to speak against my concernments with too much liberty, because thou hadst defended them with abundance of valour; but now I perceive thy temerity knows no limits, so that it will be hard for me to observe those bounds which I had proposed to myself upon the first reflections I had made on the assistance I have received from thee, and the esteem I have conceived for thy person.  
Artaxus, replied the valiant Mauritanian, looking on him very fiercely, there cannot be any such thing as a mutual esteem between us, and if my actions have raised any such in thee towards me, haply not without reason possibly have the same effect upon me. Besides, it cannot be expected we should be any longer Friends, not only because thou keepest Cleopatra as a captive, but also because thou lovest her. For the service thou hast received from me, thou art soon disengaged as well by the regret and affliction it is to me that I have done it thee, as by the little intention I should have had to do it, had I known thee to be him that carried away Cleopatra; and for the good office which I received from thy people, when they took me out of the water, I have sufficiently requited it, by exposing my life for their defence. We are therefore upon equal terms as to point of obligation, we are equal as to that of extraction, and if we are unequal as to fortune, it is in the power of Heaven, who protects justice against oppression and iniquity, to make our forces and conditions equal, and to put me once more into such away as that I may be able to deliver Cleopatra If it be the pleasure of fortune that I perish in the design, expect not thou ever the more that she will be long at thy disposal, nor indeed canst thou be ignorant that the whole Empire is at this present in arms against thee, and that, when thou hast brought the Princess into Armenia, thou wilt be soon followed thither by the most dreadful forces of the Universe, who will destroy all that lies before them by fire and sword, upon so just a quarrel.  
The Armenian King was silent all this while, as if his astonishment was no less now at the confidence of Coriolanus, than it had been not long before at his valour; and thereupon giving him a look wherein he sufficiently discovered his indignation; Thou speakest to me, said to him, with as little respect, as thou wouldst haply do, if thou were in the head of a hundred thousand men, but there is, it may be, some flaw in thy memory, and thou hast quite forgotten that thou art alone, and without arms in my ship, in the midst of all my men, and that thou art already obliged to me for the life which thou hast enjoyed upon my courtesy ever since that moment, wherein thou gavest me the first occasion of displeasure. From this very indulgence Cleopatra might infer so much as might oblige her to quit the opinion she hath conceived of my cruelty, and there are few Kings in the World, who having an absolute power, such as mine is, would have suffered so much from any man, and not have cast him into the sea. I shall cast myself into the sea of my own accord, replied the Prince of Mauritania, when the misfortunes of my life prove so insupportable as to advise me to put a Period thereto; but thou wilt find, that, to cast me into the sea against my will, is not an attempt so easy in the execution as thou conceivest it. And though thou hast a a great number of men about thee, yet am I confident that the most daring among them will bethink him more than once what he hath to do ere he attempt it, and though they should forget all respect to the royal character which I bear as well as thyself, they are better acquainted with the metal my sword is made of, then to come over-confidently too near the point of it.  
Artaxus had his hand ready on the hilt of his sword, and by his own example was going to oblige all his men to fall upon the King of Mauritania, who securing himself with a buckler, expected them with an undaunted courage, when Zenodorus, having recovered himself of his fall, and the lethargy occasioned thereby, and being come up to him, told him that the wind was turned, and was very good for their departure thence, and that it was their best course to weigh anchor, and be gone from a coast, where they must expect to be assaulted again if they stayed there any time. Artaxus overjoyed at that happy change of weather, gave order to hoist up sail, and that they should make what ha●t they could out of the river. But now was it that Coriolanus made them know what he was, and turning toward Cleopatra, who heard that order of Artaxus as she would have the sentence of death passed against her; I beseech you, Madam, said he to her, be pleased to receive this last service from me without any repugnance, and be assured by the death which I am soon to suffer for your sake, what correspondence there hath been between me and the King of Armenia. I do not suspect you guilty of any, replied the disconsolate Princess, and notwithstanding the unconstancy you have been guilty of towards me, I am better satisfied as well of the nobleness of your blood, as of that of your courage, then to make a hard judgement of you in things where there is any one circumstance that makes any way for your advantage. But how inconstant soever you may be, added she, rising from the place where she ●ate, I am far from desiring your death, and I shall never give way you should receive it in my sight, if I can hinder it.  
Coriolanus had not heard those last words, and seeing too men somewhat near him, doing something in order to the departure of the vessel, he thrust away the nearest to him with such force that he had turned him overboard into the sea, with his sword, cloven the others head into two pieces. Upon this spectacle Artaxus, perceiving it was not safe to daily any longer, and repenting he had not fallen upon him sooner, cried out to his men to hasten to cut off that temerarious person; and when he saw himself fortified by those that came about him, he advanced along with them with his sword drawn towards the Prince of Mauritania. But Cleopatra came and stood before him, and, speaking to him much more mildly than ever she had done before, Artaxus, said she to him, if ever in thy life thou wilt do an action which I may take kindly at thy hands, attempt not the life of Coriolanus, and remember the assistance thou hast received from him, without which I had been out of thy power, and thou thyself haply out of the World. What you desire of me, Madam, replies the King of Armenia, is a thing out of my power to grant, besides that Coriolanus himself, who, unworthily abusing the respect I have for you, sticks not to murder my men before my face, is not desirous of that life which you so much beg for him. And yet I shall not take it away from him, that I may at length begin to do something that pleases you, and though he be my Rival, and that one so much the more to be feared for that he is much in your favour, yet shall I permit him to live, and give him leave to depart immediately, out of the ship, and go his ways whither it shall please fortune to dispose of him.  
If there be any favour in this, replies the Mauritanian, it were done to thyself and not to me, nor indeed do I make the least doubt of it, but that thou wouldst be very glad I were once out of thy ship; but thou art not guilty of so much vanity as to imagine I will go hence without the Princess Cleopatra, and therefore resolve immediately either to restore her to liberty, or to give me my death, and withal to defend thy own life, which I doubt not but I shall even in the midst of all thy men, put once more into danger. Alas! for death, cries out Artaxus, being grown furious to the highest degree, thou shalt without much difficulty find it at my hands, and here I now sacrifice thee to my resentment, and my love, both as a temerarious enemy, and an insolent Rival.  
With this Rhodomantade, having not the patience to give any further ear either to his words, or the cries of Cleopatra, whom he caused to be taken away by force from between their arms, he began to make towards the Prince, who, having got to a place whence he could not be assaulted, but only before, covering his left arm with a buckler, and brandithing his dreadful sword with the right, expected him in such a posture as spoke him a person whom no danger could frighten. Artaxus was both valiant and daring; but besides that, he was not absolutely recovered of his wounds, and felt himself a little too weak to engage in a combat, the great actions he had seen him do that day against the enemy that would have rescued Cleopatra, made him look on that enterprise with some distrust, and accordingly was not much displeased to see the stoutest of his men expose themselves before him to that danger. Zenodorus, followed by the rest of his companions, and some of the Armenians, animated by him whose Brother the valiant Prince had killed some days before, was the first that would venture to come on. Megacles, not able to divert this misfortune, would not however have any hand in the crime, and holding his arms across at the other end of the ship, did all that lay in his power to persuade to stay with him such of the Armenians as had most affection for him. Aristus, who was the first that offered at the King of Mauritania, was also the first that paid for his confidence; for, having made a blow at the Prince, and he putting it off with his buckler, he received another from him by way of exchange, which taking him in the throat, cut off the passage of his respiration. For the blood, issuing out of his wound in thick clots, choked him within a few minutes, and after he had staggered some paces backwards, spreading his arms asunder, he sell down and breathed out his last at the King of Armenia's fe●t. Had Cleopatra delighted in revenge, and that a broudy revenge, here she might with no small pleasure have looked on this victim which the Prince sacrificed to her, since it was this man that had seized her, and carried ●er in his arms into the ship.  
This sudden dispatching of Aristus did a little cool the courage of his companions; but ●● withal animated them to revenge him; and the King, who had loved Aristus very ●●●rly, being extremely grieved at his fall, cried out to his men to take heart, and would have been in the head of them, had he been in his absolute strength, and if some of his own, who would not have him to hazard his life, had not stood in his way. But this they did partly out of a desire to please him, and the fear they were in at the sight of Coriolanus' dreadful sword, and partly out of a certain repugnance they felt in themselves to put to death a valiant Prince, who not long before had so generously hazarded his life for their safety. Those that were the most forward to second Aristus, met with a destiny, not much different from his, and he who was so violent to be revenged for his brother's death, coming on a little too rashly, lost his resentments, with his life, by a thrust which for want of arms found a way into his belly, and which made him fall down into a Rivulet of his own blood. The deaths of these two men made their companions more circumspect, and more fearful of the length of Coriolanus' sword. The valiant Prince looking on them with a certain contempt, and frightening them the more by menacing gestures; It is not so easy a matter, said he to them, as you conceived it, to take away a man's life, who knows how to defend it, the advantage of number and ar●s does not always bring victory with it, and if I die this day, as it is possible I may, by your hands, if the gods have so disposed of me, I hope I shall not die unrevenged.  
Having said these words to them, he kept his former posture, that is, stood close to the ships side to avoid being set upon behind, and warding off the blows which were made at him with his buckler, he looked like lightning on his enemies, and when any one of them instigated either by shame or the cries of Artaxus grew more daring than his companions, he neglected not either time or occasion to make him repent his forwardness, and always directed his sword so fortunately and with such force and execution, that it ever proved either the messenger of death or some cruel wound. At last Zenodorus, to whom this kind of engagement was more familiar than to any of the rest, being ashamed to fight with so much precaution against a single person, and desirous to let the King of Armenia see how much he deserved the assistances he had promised him, after he had called his companions about him, and reproached them with their cowardice and baseness, comes on before them, and, intending to direct his stroke at the Prince's bare head, Coriolanus warded it off with his buckler. But, having many adversaries to deal with, and they directing several blows at him at the same time, he could not so well put off that of the Pirate, but that his sword sliding down along the buckler fell upon his shoulder, and gave him a slight wound. Zenodorus perceiving the Prince to be in some disorder, would needs be at him again, and taking his sword with both hands, he lifted it up high in the air, with a design and hope to cleave the Prince his head asunder; but at the very same time the son of Juba, exasperated at the blow he had received, gave him a backblow with such force, that the edge of the sword meeting with the Pirate at the wri●●s, which were not covered with any arms, cut them both off, so that both hands and the sword fell down at the feet of those that were fight. The unfortunate Zenodorus, seeing himself in that deplorable condition, was loath to live any longer, whether that strange misfortune raised in him an aversion for life, or that he was persuaded that through his cruel wounds it would have run out with blood. So that having remained some little while as it were in an irresolution what to do, and sent forth a doleful exclamation towards heaven, he of a sudden flies at the Prince, with a design to thrust him over board into the sea. And certainly he might have effected it, if the Prince perceiving he made towards him, had not stepped aside with so much agility, that the desperate Pirate not meeting with any thing to stay him, and thrusting forwards with the whole weight of his body fell over the vessel into the Sea, where having no hands to do him any service in point of swimming, or to fasten on any thing if need were, he was soon drowned, losing his life after a little struggling, the last word that fell from him being the name of Elisena, it being a certain justice in the Gods that he should expire in that Element upon which he had committed so many crimes, and was grown so dreadful to all the world.  
The misfortune of Zenodorus took off much of the spirit and eagerness of his companions, which had been the most animated by his example; but on the other side it put Artaxus into so much rage and violence, that being not any longer able to forbear either out of fear or any other consideration, he came up to the most forward of his men, resolved to perish himself or to take away his enemy's life. What, cowardly villains, cried he to his own men, you are afraid and give back for a single person, and you suffer the stoutest of your companions to be killed before your faces and are not able to revenge them? O shame beyond expression, the stain whereof neither all his blood nor all ours is able to wash off! O Zenodorus, added he, since thou hast in my quarrel lost a life, which thou hadst preserved among so many dangers, and among so many misfortunes, If I cannot make that satisfaction to thy Manes which I ought them, receive at least that victim which I now sacrifice to thee.  
With these words he comes on full of fury▪ when the most affectionate of his men cast themselves before him, and kept the Prince so much in play, that there was little probability, with all his valour, he should long descend a life set upon by so great a number of enemies, and that with so much eagerness and animosity.  
Alas! how can we imagine the disconsolate Cleopatra was employed while they were engaged in this unequal combat; and with what abundance of tears did she bewail the loss of a Prince whom she saw p●rishing upon her account, and that a Prince who, notwithstanding the pretended infidelity laid to his charge, was dearer to her than her own life? What endeavours did she not use to divert his enemies from their inhuman enterprise? But when she perceived that all her entreaties and solicitations proved ineffectual, as to the expectation she conceived from them, what complaints, and what regrets did she not importune heaven with, since that, in her misfortune, her lamentations and tears were all she could afford, and indeed all that Fortune had left her? She embraced the comfortless Artemisa, whose tears were mingled with hers, and pressing her, with an action that spoke the height of passion; Now Sister, said she to her, now, may you see the extremity of my cruel and unfortunate destiny, now may you see the most extraordinary effects of heaven's indignation, that ever fell upon any wretch in this world. After the infidelity of Coriolanus, after the loss of my liberty, and after the affliction it must needs be to me to see myself returned into captivity by no other hand than his whom I loved so much, all the misery I could further expect, was, to see the same Prince whom I loved so dearly, cruel●y destroyed in my sight, and perishing in our defence. If it must needs be the pleasure of the gods that he should die in my presence, it had been supportable to me that he had done it while he was yet in his mistake and fought for our Enemies, and that to the former infidelity I might not reproach him with this last, which he hath now sufficiently cleared himself of. But the gods thought not fit to leave me that consolation in his loss, and would needs make his innocence appear as to this last crime, where of I might otherwise have accused him, as if it had been done purposely that my grief for his loss might be the more in supportable.  
But Sister, said Artemisa to her, whenever the importunity of her tears made any interval in her discourse, can you be still of opinion, that this man whom you see fight with so miraculous a valour for your deliverance; that he, that should cast himself headlong from the top of a rock into the sea, merely because he would not survive your loss and indignation; and that hath refused before us the life which Artaxus was content to leave him, purposely, that he might sacrifice it to your service, can be a treacherous and unconstant person; and will you not quit that opinion upon so many apparent demonstrations of his fidelity and his affection? No doubt, Sister, but I should have other thoughts of him, replies Cleopatra, if in the discovery he made to me of his treachery he had not been so cruel as to deprive me of all matter of hope, and not leave me any circumstance whence I might argue any thing on his behalf. But, I beseech you; let us have no farther dispute about his innocence, since that if he be found innocent, I shall be so much the more unfortunate, and that it must needs be more insupportable to me to lose him innocent, then to see him die in his unconstancy. And yet Sister, though I see my grief must needs be the greater, yet can I not forbear wishing him innocent, and therefore whatever he may be, whether innocent or guilty, whether loved or hated by me, might it please the Gods that I could redeem his life with the sacrificing of my own, and that those Barbarians that assault him, would turn their swords against my breast so they would spare a life which is so dear to me as his.  
The consequence of these words was a torrent of tears, which when it had almost spent itself, she lifts up her eyes towards heaven, and reassuming her discourse; O ye just powers of heaven, cried she, are you then resolved to expose virtue to rage and cruelty, and shall heaven be turned into brass only against my addresses, when it is open to the Lamentations and cries of other wretches that call upon the gods?  
These words were hardly understood by Artemisa and Megacles, who desirous to have no hand in that unjust combat, was come into the room where the Princesses were to comfort them as well as he could, but there was such a horrid noise in the ship about one single person, that there could not well be a greater, had there been a fight between divers ships. That put Cleopatra in a manner out of all hope of ever seeing Coriolanus alive long, when casting her eye towards the sea, as she did every minute almost to see whether there were any thing coming to their assistance, she discovered a ship making all the sail she could. That sight recruited her heart with some hope again, especially when she perceived by degrees with Artemisa and Megacles, who also observed her course, that the ship tacked about and came directly towards theirs, and was not at that time so far from it, but that it might come up time enough to relieve the Prince, if he would but stand it out as long as he could. To that end she thought fit to communicate that hope to him, and accordingly speaking to him as loud as she could, by reason of the noise and disorder; Take heart Coriolanus, cried she to him, the gods have sent you relief, husband your strength so as to expect it, and do not cast yourself away through despair, when it is yet in your power to hope.  
These words of Cleopatra wrought on him the effect she expected they should, and by a certain miracle multiplying the remaining fractions of courage which were yet lest in the Son of Juba, when his strength was upon the point to for sake him, they obliged him to have a greater care of his life than he had had before. Five or six of his enemies were laid with their bellies upward at his feet, and made, as it were, a kind of a rampartagainst the rest, who, notwithstanding the cries of Artaxus, and their own great resolution, were afraid to meddle with him, and thought it greater prudence to expect till weariness had made him incapable of fight any longer, that they might accordingly kill him with less danger. Artaxus was some what of the same opinion himself, out of a confidence he had that he could not escape him, and finding in himself, that his strength, grown much less by reason of his wounds, was not proportionable to his sury, as he could have wished, he was content to remit somewhat of his rage, and to have a little patience with him.  
But, having at the exclamation of Cleopatra cast his eye about him on the sea, and seen the ship making towards them, which he could not take for any other than an enemy, the violence of his grief was inexpressible, insomuch, that retreating some few paces full of confusion and astonishment, he was for some minutes at such a loss, that he stood immovable, and incapable of all resolution. The first imagination that came into his mind, was, that he could not be in a condition to stand an engagement with those that came against him, especially, when the men he had left, found it such a difficulty to take away the life of a single person: so that he was in a fear both of losing Cleopatra, without whom he did not much care for life, and also to lose that very life against which he had armed such powerful enemies. Possessed with this fear, he looked all about him, and perceiving he was at no great distance from the shore, he had some thought to quit the ship, and accordingly to avoid a fight which must needs prove disadvantageous to him upon the sea. But this reflection was no sooner in his mind, but he considered withal that that flight into the land, besides the dishonour of it, would prove fruitless, and that, though he should with much ado get ashore, yet could he not get Cleopatra out of the Vessel till he had dispatched Coriolanus out of the way. Nay all this granted as possible, and that he were delivered of that obstacle by the death of the Prince, he conceived himself less safe upon the land than he was upon the sea, it being in a Country where all things were at the command of his enemies, and where he was not likely to meet with any retiring place for himself, or any to conceal Cleopatra, whom he could not think of forsaking without death.  
These difficulties, with many others, coming immediately into his imagination, made him soon quit the design he had at first sramed to himself, and thereupon he took an absolute resolution to fight it out, and to defend his beautiful prize to the very last gasp. In this resolution, looking up to heaven with eyes sparkling with indignation, and an action expressing the very depth of despair; Though gods and men, cried he, and all the elements combine to ruin me, yet shall they not abate a jot of my courage, and if I must perish, implacable destinies! you shall find I can do it without either baseness orremorse. With these words, he returns to Coriolanus, as conceiving it absolutely necessary that he should be dispatched out of the way before the enemy were come up; and thinking it now past time to dally, and that he was to make all the haste hë could with him, he comes up to him in such manner, that the Prince, after he had warded off certain blows which the other had made at him, struck him over the head with all the strength he had. The goodness of the head-piece saved him from death; but it was not able to hinder him from being stunned in such wise, that after he had staggered a while, he fell down within some few paces of the Princess Cleopatra, Megacles ran immediately to help him, and Artemisa, out of the excellency of her good nature, remembering what she ought her own blood, came to him, and took up the visor of his head-piece, to give him a greater freedom of breathing, and more air.  
While he continued in that condition, Cleopatra, running to those that were still fight against Coriolanus, and who possibly, notwithstanding his miraculous resistance, would have dispatched him at last, comes up to them without any fear, and lifting up her voice that she might be the better heard; Hold your hands, said she to them, and if you expect any favour from those whom you see coming to our assistance, make no further attempt on the life of a Prince, on whom your own will, within these few minutes, depend. 'tis the only way you have left you to secure your lives, for you are not to hope for any mercy, if you betake you not to your own Prince, and by compliance make yourselves worthy the pardon which I promise you. These words proved effectual upon some part of those that heard them, and particularly upon the Armenians, who were most of them persons of considerable quality. These were content to do as the Princess would have them, and, giving over fighting, went to see how their King did: but the Pirates, in whom the death of their leader, and the despair of pardon wrought a different effect, were obstinate in the design they had conceived to take away Coriolanus' life, and, though there were but one half of them left, yet despaired not of revenging the death of Zenodorus.  
The Prince, perceiving himself eased, not only of the greatest part of his enemies, but also of the most dangerous and most valiant, valued not much those that remained; and though he must needs be very much weakened, as well by the continual action he had been in, as by some slight wounds he had received, yet was he now in greater hopes than ever of gaining the victory, and delivering Cleopatra. In the mean time, Artaxus, who had only been stunned with the heavy blow he had received, comes at length to himself, by the assistance they had given him; but ere he had so far recovered himself as to know all that were about him, and become master of his strength, that is, before he was in a condition to discern what passed in the ship, and to give out orders about any thing, the other that was coming in to the assistance of Cleopatra, and which had already been known to be one of those of Alexandria, was gotten so near, that they could hear them hollow that were within her, and in a man●er discern their faces.  
Artaxus having got up, and taken his sword again, looked about him of all sides, and perceiving that all his hopes were vanished, he was convinced his final ruin was at no great distance. He sighed again for very grief and rage, as conceiving himself not to be in a condition either to execute his revenge, or keep Cleopatra in his possession, and therefore was at such loss and irresolution; that he knew not what side to take. Whi●e in the interim, the other ship came on still with such speed and such hollowing, that it was out of all question she was an enemy, and indeed within a few minutes after Cleopatra and Artemisa, perceived, in the head of those that were coming to their assutance, Prince Marcellus and Prince Alexander, who, that they might be known to the Princesses had raised up the visours of their headpieces. If their joy was extraordinary, the grief of Ataxus, who, upon the first sight knew Alexander, was no less violent. He blasphemed against Heaven, and railed at his evil fortune, and that hateful sight filled him no doubt, upon the first apprehension thereof, with satal resolutions. We must perish, cried he, but it is but just we bury under our ruins those that should derive any felicity from our destruction. And for thy part, Alexander, said he, loud enough to be heard by him, assure thyself thou shall not laugh at the defeat of Artaxus. With these words he com●s up to the two Princesses, and looking on them with eyes red with blood and fire, he put them into a greater fright than ever they had known before; See bear, said he, these are either my security, or my victimes: what shall escape my love, shall never escape my revenge, and if it be lost to me, it shall be lost to all the World besides.  
As he uttered these words, he took Artemisa in the left hand, and with the right presenting the point of his inhuman weapon to the fair breast of Cleopatra, he directs his fatal looks on Alexander and Marcellus just at the instant that they were preparing all things to fasten the grappling-irons; and addressing his speech to the Son of Anthony: Alexander, said he to him, hope not thou shalt have any thing to rejoice at in the misfortune of thy enemy, and think not to triumph over me so many several ways as thou hast, through the malice of my fortune, and the persidiousness of Artemisa. It was through the baseness of this Princess that she ever came into thy power, and the revenging gods have been pleased that Cleopatra should fall into mine; but if my Sister hath been too susceptible of thy love, thine hath been too ungratful to entertain the affection I have had for her. Thou returnest again conducted by that Fortune which hath ever been in hostility against me, with a design, and haply in a condition to force them both out of my hands: but know, that thy hope hath deluded thee, and all thou art to expect from this enterprise, is the death of these two Princesses, Thou mayst save their lives by directing thy course some other way, and leaving me at liberty to pursue mine: but if thou losest a single minute in considering what resolution thou should take, thou shalt find me already resolved to sheathe this sword in the breasts of Cleopatra and Artemisa.  
The King of Armenia had made this discourse without the least interruption, while Alexander, seeing him in that cruel posture against the Princesses, had given order to those that were preparing to fasten the ship, to forbear, and stood in a confusion, and absolutely at a loss what to think of so terrible a spectacle. Upon the first sight of that Barbarian and his inhuman attempt, his indignation would have broke out against him with all its violence; but fearing, on the other side, by his precipitation, to lose what was a thousand times dearer to him then his own life, his love tied up his hands, with considerations as strong as the other, and kept him in an irresolution full of perplexity. Thence it was, that he not only forbore interrupting Artaxus while he spoke, but also when he had given over, was not able to make him any reply, and only looked on him with much confusion, and as if he had been in trance. Marcellus was also afraid for Cleopatra, whom he loved as dearly as he could a Sister, but his soul being not upon this occasion, capable of such a violence of passion as was that of Alexander he was guilty of a greater freedom of apprehension, and consequently was the less troubled at the horror of that object. Hence was it that he took occasion to speak while the other was silent, and darting on Artaxus, a look expressing the greatness of his indignation; Barbarous wretch, said he to him, if the sight of those divine beauties cannot stay thy hands, consider what will become of thy own life in that horrid attempt, and doubt not but thou shalt lose it by the most exquisite torments that humane invention ever found out, if thou execute thy barbarous resolution.  
The Armenian smiled at this discourse of Marcellus, and looking on him very scornfully. Do not imagine, said he to him, that thou canst frighten me with thy menaces, or that I stand in any fear of death myself, after I have given it to what I love beyond myself; but if thou with Alexander art desirous of the safety of these Princesses, resolve immediately to do as I would have you, for sear your resolutions come too late. Ah! says Alexander to him, assuming the discourse at last, will thy cruelties never have any end, and wilt thou treat me with more inhumanity upon the sea of Alexandria than thou didst upon the scaffold at Artaxata? Thus did he speak to him, as much out of tenderness as indignation, when the courageous Cleoapatra, out of a jealousy that that softness might prove prejudicial to her liberty, and standing less in fear of death then of her captivity, and the importunate Love of the King of Armenia, broke that silence which she had observed all the time before, and looking on Alexander with a countenance that argued much more confidence than his: Brother, said she to him, have a greater reliance on the gods then to forsake us upon the vain frights which Artaxus would put us into. He dares not put us to death, but though we were to expect it, we think it much more supportable than the life he prepares for us.  
Artaxus was in a manner satisfied that these words of Cle●patra would have that effect on the spirit of Marcellus and that of Alexander as she expected they should, and fearing to be surprised, he lifted up his arm as he drew near to Cleopatra (who was gotten some paces from him) either to frighten them the more, or possibly to execute his bloody resolution. But, as happy fortune would have it, at the very same instant of time, the valiant son of Juba, who was fight at the other end of the ship against those that were lest of the Pirates, had, notwithstanding their finding him so much employment, (minding the safety of Cleopatra much more than his own) partly taken notice of what was passed: Transported at the imminent danger he saw her in, and perceiving it was not now a time for him to be so mindful of his own life, broke through those enemies that stood in his way, and laying on the ground all that any way opposed him, he got up to the King of Armenia with so much speed, that, before he was sensible of his coming, he gave him a thrust with such force that he laid him at his feet and tumbled him upon the deck to one side of the vessel. Artaxus made a shift to get upon again, but e'er he could do it, Coriolanus was gotten before Cleopatra in a condition to defend her, while in the mean time Alexander and Marcellus in taking their advantage of this interval had caused their ship to close with the other, and, notwithstanding the opposition of the Armenians and the Pirates, who joined with them with abundance of resolution, made their way through and boarded the Armenian.  
This fight, as it was undertaken upon a barbarous occasion, so was it managed with more animosity than ordinary, and upon that account was it that there was some blood spilt, which upon another occasion had haply, through the clemency of the Chiefs, been spared. The Egyptian soldiers that followed Alexander put all they met with in their way, to the sword; but that Prince and Marc●llus scorning a victory too easily gained, ran to Cleopatra and Artemisa, and if love obliged the son of Anthony to mind in the first place what he most loved, Friendship had in a man●er the fame effect upon the son of Octavia. Alexander, full of fury and indignation ran towards Artaxus, whom rage had upon the last and most violent attempts, and who must needs have expected the execution of a just revenge; but Artemisa stepped before him, and speaking to her dearest Alexander with her natural goodness; Alexander, said she to him, put not to death the King my Brother, and satisfy yourself with the victory and possession of Artemisa. Alexander let fall the point of his sword at this discourse, and looking on the Princess with an action full of affection and respect; Madam, said he to her, had not you laid your commands on me, I should have considered in the person of Artaxus both the blood of Artemisa and the dignity of a King. Whereupon, turning to Artaxus, who, swelling with rage and confusion, and overpressed with grief and weariness, sat upon the deck, whence darting his scattered looks of all sides, his thoughts ran upon what was most barbarous and horrid. King of Armenia, said he to him, thou shalt receive from us what thou hast never granted any one, and what indeed thou should not expect, if thou call to mind that cruel scaffold upon which my head was once made a public spectacle. We leave thee thy life, and absolute liberty to dispose of thyself as thou pleasest, and desire no other advantage than that of delivering Artemisa and Cleopatra out of thy cruel hands. From this difference of carriage, thou mayst reflect on what there is between us, and from the ill success of thy enterprises infer what horror and vengeance the good and just powers of heaven have for thy violences and cruelties.  
To this effect was the discourse of Alexander when the King of Armenia, looking on him with eyes wherein the rage which possessed him was visibly apparent; Be not so fond as to imagine, said he to him, that I will accept of a life from the son of Anthony, the Cajoller of Artemisa, and the brother of Cleopatra. Thy very birth made thee my enemy, thy crime armed me against thee, and thy Sister, by the little regard she had for my love, hath deprived me of all the desire I could have had for life. Think not then that I will owe it to him who hath occasioned me so many misfortunes, or survive the hope I now lose both of being revenged of thee, and possessing Cleopatra. With these words he rises with his sword in his hand from the place where he was set, and rolling his dreadful eyes about him, gave all notice as it were of the horrid resolution he had taken. The two Princesses, who were best acquainted with his furious humours, ran behind their defenders, and the Princes set themselves before them in a posture to oppose Artaxus, if he should attempt any thing. The cruel King having considered his weakness, and the little probability there was he should execute what his resentments inspired him with, harkened to the temptation of his evil genius, and after the silence of a few minutes; Implacable Fortune, said he at last, thou seest me ruined, but not vanquished, and though, by thy unjust assistance thou hast made the blood of Anthony to triumph over that of Artabazus, yet is it not to thee, but to my own revenge and love that I now offer this great sacrifice.  
Having uttered these words, with a furious action he turned the point of his sword against his breast, and directing it to a certain place where there was nothing of arms to oppose its passage, he fell upon it so of a sudden, that no man had the time to prevent him and that so effectually, as to his design, that the murdering sword meeting with no resistance, ran him quite through, and, passing through those parts which are most necessary for the preservation of life, deprived him of it in a moment. Though that unfortunate King had drawn upon himself the detestation of all those that were present at his death; yet were there some among them, who could not but pity his misfortune: and though Alexander were a person that of all men had the most just ground to hate him, yet was he extremely troubled for him, even to the shedding of tears at that deplorable adventure. Artemisa ran immediately to her Brother with a face overflown with tears, and bewailed his loss with all the lamentations, which an excess of good nature could put into a woman's mouth. Cleopatra, Coriolanus, and Marcellus thought themselves concerned in it merely out of a consideration of generosity, and not long after, they all jointly acknowledged the justice of the gods in that example, and submitted to their will in the punishment of that cruel King. Artemisa was still about the body of Artaxus with Megacles and the rest of the Armenians who had their lives given them upon the mediation of Cleopatra. Cleopatra returned her thanks to Marcellus and Prince Alexander for their assistance, and Coriolanus, not able to stand for weariness by reason of the continual action he had undergone for so long time, and the weakness he was in, through certain wounds he had received, was sat down, and looked on what passed as a person distracted by different reflections, when Marcellus and Alexander, casting their eyes on him, knew him. Their astonishment was not small at that accident, for Alexander, having been acquainted by Marcellus with the pretended infidelity of Coriolanus, he was no less surprised than Marcellus, to find him with Cleopatra. Now, Alexander, having ever loved the person, and respected the virtue of the Son of Juba, thought not the ground he had to hate him so great as should oblige him to forget the esteem he sometimes had had for him. But Marcellus, whose resentment proceeded from a more violent passion, could not absolutely moderate himself in that emergency, and looking accordingly on the Princess Cleopatra with a countenance wherein might be seen the lively characters of his astonishment: What, Sister, said he to her, is the King of Mauritania among you? And is that Prince, who is guilty of so horrid an infidelity both against you and me, so near Cleopatra, whom he had so ungratefully forsaken? You may credit your own eyes, says Cleopatra to him, and know withal, that that very inconstant man whom you find so near me, hath fought all this day alone against Artaxus and all his men, hath killed the greatest part of those you see laid along upon the deck, overthrew Artaxus in your presence at the very instant, that he was going to take away my life, and hath done so much in my assistance, that without it, yours had come too late, and I had been yet in the hands and power of the King of Armenia. I never questioned, replies Marcellus, but that Coriolanus was the most valiant Prince upon earth; but we may as little doubt, for your part and mine, but that of all men he is the most unfaithful both to his Mistress and his friend.  
Coriolanus, as it were, awakened by this discourse, out of those reflections wherein his thoughts were employed before, and looking on Marcellus with a certain discovery of his resentment; Marcellus, said he to him, now do I perceive that thy cruelty knows no limits, and thou thinkest it nothing to crush a miserable man with such indignities as he could not have expected from a Prince that had sometimes been his friend. It is a great demonstration of my fidelity, that I suffer these affronts from thee with patience, and not many days since, when thou hadst an implacable design against my life, I presented my breast to the point of thy sword without the least opposition, though it be not unknown to thee that I am able to defend it. If it be any trouble to thee that thou didst not then take it from me, come now and destroy the pitiful remainders that are left of it, and satiate thyself with my blood without tormenting me continually with thy cruel persecution. Acknowledge the difference there was between us in point of friendship, since that, for an imaginary perfidiousness which thou wouldst have to be construed a real infidelity, thou art bend against my life with so much inhumanity, and that by so many unworthy actions of thine, (whence I cannot but too much infer thy baseness) thou couldst never abate any thing of that affection which my heart hath conceived for thee, and does still preserve, indeed, but with too too much fidelity. Go cruel man, triumph over my misfortune by thy change, and prosecute, with Cleopatra, those enjoyments which I am content to resign to thee. I must needs at last conclude from the conformity which I perceive there is between her sentiments and thine, that it is upon thy account, and to enjoy thee, that she slights me, as conceiving her fortune will be much better with Caesar's Nephew, a person destined for the Empire of the Universe, then with a beggarly dispossessed Prince, whom Fortune hath not left any thing but his sword. And yet as contemptible and as wretched as I am, I would not resign the interest I have in her to Tiberius, while I had one drop of blood left in my veins, and I would wander all over the World, but I would find him, and take away his life, did I but once imagine that Clcopatra were designed for him. But for thee, who didst sometimes quit the pretensions thou hadst to her, to me, I find in myself a compliance for thee, suitable to so great an obligation, and if I cannot look on thy fortune without dying, I will be so far from being any way thy hindrance, that I shall haply by my death remove out of thy way the greatest obstacle which any other but thyself could have met with in such a business.  
This was the discourse of Coriolanus, and notwithstanding the cruel prejudice, whereby some, that were concerned in it, were possessed, yet had it that influence upon their spirits, that it was impossible for them to conceal the discoveries of their sympathy. Marcellus, who was a person of an excellent good nature, could not dissemble it; and doing himself a certain violence to express what he felt within him; Coriolanus, said he to the Prince, how far soever I ought to be persuaded of thy infidelity, yet have I not so great an a version for thee, but that I would spend the best part of my blood, might it contribute any thing to thy justification; and if thy proceeding had been such as to leave us any thing to doubt of, thou hadst found an advocate in my heart, that would have maintained thy innocence against all the World to the last minute of my life. But, Coriolanus, thou wert not pleased to afford us that comfort, and hast taken such a course to have thy crime noised through the whole Roman Empire, that unless we had been without the limits of it, banished into the most remote parts of the earth, it was impossible we should be ignorant thereof. Ask the most inconsiderable person among the Romans what the infidelity of Coriolanus was, and by what means it broke forth; and then ask Caesar, ask all the Romans, nay, Cleopatra herself, whether I have betrayed thee, or whether, from the day that for thy sake I have disengaged myself from the affection I had for her, I ever looked on her otherwise then as a Sister, or minded any man's interests as to her, but thine. Do not therefore charge either her or me with any basin ess, since there hath happened no change in our sentiments, and that when we both accuse thee with a departure from thy former thoughts, and the infidelity thou hast committed against us, infer not that I have quitted Julia, for Cleopatra, or that Cleopatra, shunning Coriolanus as a monster of ingratitude, hath looked on the Empire, or Marcellus, or indeed any other person that thou canst any way reproach her with.  
Coriolanus, being out of all patience at this discourse, rises up of a sudden, and coming to Marcellus in an excess of passion; I am satisfied, said he to him, that what thou sayest is true; but thou must either run me through this heart with thy sword, or expect to see me fall upon the point of my own, after the example of the King of Armenia, or let me understand at last, what this infidelity is, which is so well known to all the World, and unknown only to the person that hath committed it. I have nothing in particular to acquaint thee withal, replies Marcellus, but it was ever my opinion, that was apparent to the eyes of all the World carried crime enough in it to deny thee the thought of innocence, and that thou needest not express thyself more plainly both to Cleopatra and Marcellus, then by sending plenipotentiary Ambassadors to Caesar with credentials under the great Seal of Mauritania, to demand of him the Princess Julia in marriage, and thereupon to do him homage for thy Kingdom.— Who? ay! cries out the Prince, at this discourse of Marcellus, have I sent Ambassadors to Caesar to demand Julia of him, and to do him homage for my Dominions? 'tis true Coriolanus, says the Princess Cleopatra, who had been silent all the time, 'tis true, Coriolanus, you did send them, and if we had not seen them ourselves with their credential letters in form, and with full power, we should hardly have been persuaded to a thing so improbable. Theocles, one of the most eminent of your Subjects, was the chief person of that Embassy, and he came along with Volusius to Rome, at his return out of Mauritania. There was nothing omitted in that affair, either as to solemnity or form, and if it wrought not the effect you expected it should, it hath raised in the heart of your friend, and that very justly, the resentment he hath discovered to you, and in that of the unfortunate Cleopatra, a grief which will bring her to the grave.  
Cleopatra having thus disburtnened her thoughts by this discourse, Camilla, whom the virtue of that Prince had ever obliged to side with him, perceiving he was mute and immovable at these reproaches, comes to him, and in few words acquainted him more at large, with the cause of his misfortune, and the truth how all things were managed between Volusius and his Ambassadors. The son of Juba no less cast down at this discourse then if he had been struck with a thunderbolt, stood still for a good space of time looking still about him as if it had been to seek for some either to witness his innocence, or make good the charge put in against him. At last, dispelling his astonishment, and fe●ring his silence might be thought an argument of his guilt, he comes nearer to Cleopatra, and setting one kn●e to the ground; Madam, said he to her, I humbly crave your pardon, for my having charged you with any thing unjustly: I should have known, that you are just in all things, and thence have inferred, that your change could not proceed but from a cause suitable thereto. I might haply, not without reason, hope it from your goodness and the friendship of Marcellus, that you would have proved my advocate to yourself, and plead my cause against the artifices and designs of my enemies. And this it was not hard for you to take notice of; since there was little likelihood I should so much court the alliance and friendship of Caesar when I was possessed of the throne of my Ancestors, having slighted it in a time when I had no favour or fortune to hope for, but from him alone, or that I should voluntarily offer him the homage of my kingdoms after I had conquered them by open war, and the defeat of his forces, when I had not long before refused them of him upon those very terms. But, in fine, since I have not been so fortunate as to find that protection in you, and that you have really been persuaded that I had been guilty of a baseness so improbable as that, and▪ if I may presume to say it, so disconsonant to the other actions of my life, it concerns me ●o endeavour my own justification, and to satisfy both you, and all the world besides, of the impossibility there is I should be guilty of so base an infidelity. I must find out Volusius and Theocles, and I must find out Ti●●rius, who, no doubt, is the Author of this cruel intrigue. I hope, through the assistance of the gods, to make my innocence apparent to all and am confident that within a short time I shall dispel all these mists of plots and prejudice. But▪ Madam, you may be pleased to remember, that when you banished me out of your sight for ever, and pronounced that dreadful sentence, which hath occasioned all my losses, I was master of two great Kingdoms which I came to present you with, and that through the despair you put me into, you deprived me not only of the power but even of the design I had to go and maintain them, as no doubt I could have done against all the forces of the Universe. Through that misfortune is it now come to pass that I have nothing left me, as having lost, not only the crowns I had conquered, but also the Friendship of Caesar. from whom I was to hope for all I could expect. So that when I shall return again into your sight, in a condition innocent enough to hope a readmission into your favour, I shall have no Crown to offer you nor indeed a refuge in any part of the earth, it being not so easy for me to expect a second revolt of my Subjects, after I have by my negligence betrayed them to Caesar's severity, and the orders he hath settled in the Provinces since his last conquest thereof. Thus Madam, can I not cast my eyes on you with any confidence; nor indeed desire▪ you should fasten yourself to the fortunes of miserable person that hath not an inch of earth to offer you and to entertain you in. However I go my ways in order to my justification, so to satisfy both my love and my duty, by both which I am equally obliged thereto: and when I shall have affected it, I shall either, out of a compliance with the will of the gods, not disturb a better fortune, which it is in their power to send you, or, with my hopes, lose a life which must needs be troublesome to you, and to me insupportable.  
To this effect was the discourse of Juba's son, and Cleopatra and Marcellus were so moved thereat, as also at the reflection he caused them to make upon the deplorable change of his condition, that they could not forbear tears, and all other demonstrations of the tenderness, compassion, and sympathy, which might be expected upon such an occasion. Cleopatra, the most concerned of any to express her sentiments to the Prince, looking on him with with eyes wherein could not be seen any thing of displeasure; Go Coriolanus, said she to him, go, and endeavour your justification, I desire you should effect it, no less than you do yourself. 'Tis possible you might be sufficiently justified in my apprehensions by the things you have done for my deliverance, by the probability which I find in your discourse, and by the good opinion I have of you, were it not requisite to make your innocence apparent, that so it might be lawful for Cleopatra to readmit you, with honour into her former favour and affection. They are but justrewards of pour fidelity, if you have continued in it, and the loss of your Kingdoms shall lose you nothing in my heart, if yours have suffered no change. In the mean time conceal yourself in a Country where you are to fear all things, as being so near so powerful an enemy; and assure yourself that in the uncertainty I may be in of your fidelity, I am not so little concerned in the safety of your life, but that I tremble when I reflect on the hazards whereto you expose it.  
With these words she reached forth her hand to raise him up, and the Prince imagined to himself so much kindness and obligation in what she had said, as also in all the other demonstrations of her affection, that for the time he had in a manner lost all remembrance of his misfortunes. He stood still and made no reply, not knowing how to express his resentments, when Marcellus, looking on him with eyes red, by reason of the tears he had shed; Prince, whom I once loved so dearly, said he to him, and whom I cannot yet hate, if you are innocent, I know not what reparations to make you; but what condition soever you may be found in, I here promise that I will never oppose you.  
Having said thus much, they all went towards Artemisa, who was showering down her tears upon the body of her Brother, and, after they had given her a little time to recover herself, they entreated her to pass into the other Vessel. Artemisa was content, and was handed in by her Alexander, who, looking on her now as Queen of Armenia, by reason of the general opinion there was of the death of Ariobarzanes, would have behaved himself with more respect towards her than he had done before, would she have permitted it. They ordered Megacles to carry the body of Artaxus to Alexandria, that it might be embalmed, and transported thence into the monument of his Fathers: and Coriolanus, who had a great esteem for Megacles, out of a consideration of his virtue, would needs be carried ashore in his ship. Cleopatra, Marcellus, Alexander, and Artemisa, having once more taken their leaves of him, went into their own, and, with all the joy and satisfaction, which they could derive from the liberty of the two Princesses, set sail towards Alexandria.   
The End of the Nineth Part of Cleopatra.   

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA; OR Loves Masterpiece. Part. X.  

LIB. I.  
ARGUMENT.  
Artaban and Elisa, Princess of the Parthians, take sanctuary in Alexandria. Agrippa, under whose protection they had cast themselves, falls in love with Elisa, but out of consideration of Virtue and Generosity, forbears the discoveries of his affection. Candace and Elisa discourse of their loves. Caesaria (generally known by the name of Cleomedon) comes to Alexandria, upon intelligence that Queen Candace was there, with whom he hath a secret interview in the nighttime. He entertains her and Elisa with a continuation of his History. He gives battle, with 16000 men, to Tiribasus, who had 100000, is left for dead in the field, but afterwards miraculously recovered by Eteocles, who was left in a condition not much better. The next day after the battle, Eurinoe, an Ethiopian Lady, coming into the Field to seek the body of her beloved Teramenes, is brought also to that of Cleomedon, whom, as having killed him, and not long before a Brother of hers, she would have run through with a dagger, but is prevented by Eteocles. Making a second attempt to do it, she finds something in his Countenance, which being taken with, she had compassion on him, causing him and Eteocles to be carried to he● Castle, where they were nobly entertained, and recovered of their wounds. Euri●oe, having given order for the enterrement of her dear Teramenes, he miraculously recovers to life, and is brought by Pelorus to a Sister's house of his, where he is secretly Cured, and informed of all that passes at Eurinoe's. She falls in love with Cleomedon, whom she much presses to promise her a mutual affection: but he persisting in his former resolutions of virtue, and constancy towards Candace, all proves ineffectual. Several conferences they had together to that purpose, most of which are overheard by Teramenes, who thereupon conceives a great esteem for Cleomedon. At last Teramenes is reconciled to Eurinoe, and by the mediation of Cleomedon they are married before his departure thence; and, in requital of his good offices, furnish him with all things necessary. He goes to Telemactrus and Oristhenes, to whom he discovers himself, and acquaints them with the design he had against Tiribasus.  
IN the mean time, the Queen of Ethiopia, and the Princess of the Parthians were gotten into Alexandria, and after that the two Princesses had been disposed into their several lodgings, Cornelius, who had already taken order for the entertainment of the King of the Medes, did the like for the accommodation of Artaban. This latter, though he were not looked upon as a person of a royal rank, as Tygranes was, yet was he treated with as much respect as any of those that wore Diadems; and the great reputation he had acquired, such as was already spread over the whole earth, added to the gracefulness of his countenance, and that majestic air which was so remarkable in his person, made Agrippa, and the Praetor of Egypt consider him as a man worthy of all the reverence and acknowledgement that might be due even to the Caesars. Though by an extraordinary indulgence of good fortune he had come off without wounds, having been engaged in so great a fight as he was that day, yet was he not so throughly recovered of those he had received before, but that the action he had been in, had weakened him so much, as that he stood in need of some rest. Elisa could have wished he should take his ease for a certain number of days; but, not able to persuade him to it, by reason of the impossibility which he urged there, was, he should forbear waiting on her for so long time, after he had so miraculously met with her again, she laid her commands on him not to stir out of his bed for that night, and the best part of the next day, though she did no small violence to herself merely out of the tenderness she had for his health. He obeyed her commands with that respectful submission, which, notwithstanding his heat & fierceness, he had ever observed towards her, and, receiving the lodgings appointed him, and the Officers whom Cornelius ordered to wait on him, with abundance of satisfaction and respects, he passed over that night in his bed with reflections much different from those which he had had, for some that preceded it. Certain it is, that that great soul, great even among those that could pretend most to greatness, though it were not immoderately subject either to grief or joy, was at this time sensible of both: for as it had, in the loss of Elisa, made trial of the greatest spite that a malicious fortune could do him; so in the happy recovery of her, he had met with the sweetest satisfaction he could be capable of.  
During these pleasant entertainments of his thoughts, reflecting on the many extraordinary accidents that chequered his life, and not a little delighted with the consideration of those many victories that had raised his fame to so high a pitch, and the noble demonstrations of his affection to his Princess, he could hardly for some time so much as think of the misfortunes he had already run through, or the opposition he might for the future meet withal, through either the cruelty of Phraates, or the troublesome interview between him and the King of the Medes. All this signified very little with him, when it came into his mind that he had found Elisa again, that, by many discoveries, he found her not displeased that she had met him, that he was within the same walls with her, and that in a place, where she stood not in fear of any thing from either the Authority or Tyranny of Phraates. O ye immortal gods, said he at last, directing his thoughts to Heaven with all possible acknowledgement, O ye assistant deities, who have ever delivered me out of those abysses of misfortunes, whereinto an implacably malicious Fortune, and the ingratitude of men have often forced me! I humbly acknowledge your power in this miraculous effect of your goodness, and I repine no longer for what I have suffered, either from the hands of ungrateful men, or from the contrary disposal of my destiny; since you have been pleased at length to restore me my Elisa. I have not forgotten how much I am obliged to celebrate your divine assistances, not only for a many Vistories which have proved the means to raise me to some name and rank in the World, but also for the extraordinary protection which you thought fit to afford me, as well amidst the swords of my Enemies, as the angry Waves. There is therefore much less reason I should forget, that, at the point of despair, you restore my Princess, and with her those felicities which are not subject either to the inconstancy of Fortune, or the ingratitude of men.  
From this consideration his thoughts were taken up with Tigranes, and he began to reflect on the obstacles and inconveniences he might fear from him, and his unfortunate meeting with him; and certainly, such a reflection, had it happened at some oath time might have moderated, if not disturbed, his joy, but, as things stood now, it was not so considerable as to come into balance against his present happiness. Whereupon, calling to mind how that during the small time he had been felicified with the company of his Elisa, he had observed that her affections were absolutely devoted to him, and that she had all a version that could be for Tigranes, he could not but raise his thoughts to a certain confidence, that all the hindrance he might fear from that Rival would not be able to injure his Fortune. The protection which Agrippa had put him in hopes of, amounted to so much, as to win him into a belief, that Caesar would not any way oppose him, and the constancy he had perceived in Elisa towards him, though she were not naturally guilty of too much forwardness, made him imagine that though all the world should be against him, yet was happiness so surely grounded on the affection of his Princess, that nothing could shake it. Amidst these imaginations, wherein it might be said he placed a certain felicity, his greatest disquiet, was, that he wanted the sight and presence of his Elisa for some few hours; and the impatience he was in to see her again, made him look on that one night, and a piece of the next day, as if it had been a year, so trivial seemed to him the consideration of his rest in comparison of that of his Love.  
But if his reflections troubled and interrupted his sleep, that of the great Agrippa might be said to be subject to greater distraction. For the passion he had for Elisa having already arrived to its full strength, and being come to such a height as that all the force of his understanding and discourse was not able to oppose it, the effects it had wrought in his soul were accordingly so violent, that he could expect no other issue thereof but perpetual and inevitable disquiet. And though it had been merely out of the consideration of his own virtue, which would not suffer him to deny the doing of a good action, when an opportunity offered itself to do it, that he had protected Artaban, against the arms and power of Tygranes, and purely out of generosity had taken his part rather than that of the King of the Medes, yet was it not in his power to forbear looking on him as his Rival, and that not as a Rival out of favour and slighted, as Tygranes was, but as one much esteemed by Elisa, and consequently as the only person that had been so fortunate as to engage her affections. He had, it seems, that very day observed very evident demonstrations of the mutual respects that passed between them. And whereas, on the other side, the revolutions which had happened in the Kingdom of the Parthians, and that of the Medes by the valour and conduct of Artaban were of such consequence as that they were known all over the world; in like manner, his inclinations for Elisa, and the ingratitude of Phraates, made no small noise among the Romans, and by that means was come to the ears of Agrippa, so that when he looked on Artaban, he must needs consider him as that person, who of all men was the most likely and most able to cross him in his love, or rather as the only man that could ruin all his pretences.  
This consideration made him sigh for very grief, and if his virtue had not been so great, no question but he had repent him of the assistance he had given him: but, having withal a great and gallant soul, and all his resentments conformable to the noble fame he had acquired, he could not be troubled that he had done what he ought to have done, and thought it sufficient only to quarrel at the crossness of his Fortune without being guilty of a wish that should any way derogate from his Virtue. Nay, he was not able to conceive any aversion for such a Rival, and those excellent qualities which might oblige him to fear Artaban, were no less powerful in obliging him to love him, as representing to him, that he might by the same means deserve the friendship of Agrippa, as he had obtained the love of Elisa. And yet all this hindered not but that he wished himself loved by Elisa, and all the great virtue he was master of, could not oppose in him a desire so natural to those that Love, nor prevail with him to quit Elisa to Artaban, though he were very much in her favour, and not unworthy her affections. He was satisfied that how earnest soever he might be to gain her love, all his endeavours would prove ineffectual, and yet h●s passion exasperated by that kind of despair, seemed to grow more and more powerful, and to seat itself in his soul with more empire and authority.  
From this therefore he concluded, that it was impossible for him to give over loving Elisa, and thereupon resolved to do all that lay in his power to force her inclinations from Artaban, and to give a check to the favour she was pleased to afford him. But, in regard that all his thoughts were conformable to honour and generosity, and out of a consideration that he could not, without prejudice to both, disturb a noble affection grounded on extraordinary Services, and that, between persons that had cast themselves under his protection, in a place where he had all power in his own hands, and where, in all likelihood, he could not make use of his authority, without a certain kind of tyranny, he sought but a mean to reconcile his Love to his Virtue, and to manage the former without perjudice to the latter.  
Upon these reflections he resolved to dispute the business fairly with Artaban, without any advantage to matter of power, and to strive with him for the heart of Elisa, by desert and services, and not make use of his credit in the Empire, or the authority of Caesar, Being confirmed daily more and more in that resolution; What injury, said he, do I do Artaban, by being desirous to engage with him in a combat; wherein all the advantage is of his side? And what quarrel can be justly have against me when I shall with no other force, than that of Love, assault a heart already delivered up to his disposal, and that a heart favourably prepossessed for him with all that may make him happy, to my prejudice. I am not engaged to him either upon any account of Friendship, or obligation. and wherefore sit no reason that should persuade me tamely to sit down in my own misery, out of a fear of thwarting his happiness. There are few persons haply that have such a command of their inclinations, as to confine themselves to those rules which I propose to myself, and it is in Love rather than policy, and to gain the possession of what a man most affects, rather than to gain a Kingdom, that it is lawful to employ all arms, and to make use of all manner of forces▪ And yet to avoid the reproach, I might make to myself, of having abused my Fortune against persons to whom it is contrary, I will by no means make use of Augustus' favour, or the power I have in the Empire, but shall be content to be unhappy while I live, if my happiness cannot be effected by other ways than those.  
Having so said, he recollected himself for some few minutes, as if he were extremely well satisfied with the resolution he had taken. But not long after, reflecting on the difficulty of his enterprise, and the little hope he had to bring it to any effect: It is true, continued he, that by this course I should avoid that remorse and those scruples with might rise in my mind, for oppressing, by my power, a man whose virtue is not inferior to my own: but, alas! if thus be the way to quiet my conscience, it is also the only course I can take to crush my hopes; that is, I undertake a business whereof I cannot expect the success should be fortunate. Artaban is already very much in the affections of Elisa, and besides the eminent services, whereby he hath deserved her favour, he is otherwise worthy of it upon the account of the great excellencies of his person, as much as for the noble effects of his Love. So that there is very little probability, that a Soul engaged not only by a great merit and very considerable services, but also haply by a strong inclination, can easily be disengaged by a new affection, if I neglect my advantages, (which alone may come into comparison with those of my Rival) and merely upon the account of merit deal with a merit, which is so far from being inferior to my own, that it hath already wrought in the soul of Elisa, all that I could hope, or rather all that I could desire.  
This reflection troubled, and cast him down very much; but not long after taking encouragement from that little shadow of hope which ever offers itself even to the mo●t miserable; Why, added he, may it not be lawful for me to hope? There happen daily revolutiòus no less strange than what I am about to undertake, and if a m●n may be pardoned, a little self-conceit upon some certain occasions, I may hope something beyond the ordinary rate of men. My person is not unacceptable to those that see me, I have some name among men, my rank is considerable enough to work some effect on the inclinations, of Elisa, to the prejudice of a man, to whom heaven, though it hath bestowed on him great advantages, hath denied some part of those which it was but requisite he should have to pretend to the Princess of the Parthians. Let us hope then if we may presume to do it, or at least, let us not absolutely despair, since that hope is a virtue so much inclined to assist any one, that it hardly for sakes the most unfortunate that are, though in their greatest and last extremities.  
Thus were Agrippa and Artaban treated by love, (who at this time, in a City where the Ptolemies had reigned, was taken up with nobler employments than haply he had met with in all the extent of his Empire) while Prince Ariobarzanes, and Prince Philadelph were entertained by him with such enjoyments as to all others were incomprehensible. These two Lovers, who, after so many traverse▪ offortune, and so many tempests, saw themselves at the feet of their amiable Princesses, as it were in a secure Haven, could not without some difficulty apprehend the greatness of their felicity, when they reflected on their past miseries, and may in some sort be said to have found that, in the excess of their joy, which they had avoided in their afflictions and dangers, All that day was spent in transports, such as the prudence of their Princesses would have moderated, though ineffectually; and though those of Ariobarzanes, should, proportionably to his adventures, and the accidents had happened to him, (which indeed had been of the most dangerous and extraordinary) have expressed in all probability something ●ore vehement than could be expected from those of Philadelph; yet was it certain, that in the soul of the Prince of Cilicia, there passed somewhat that argued a greater tenderness and sensibility of affection. For, this satisfaction having happened equally to both, that they had met with the Princesses they adored, and whom they sought out so earnestly, Philadelph had this advantage, that now he had by many infallible demonstrations discovered himself to be admitted to a happiness which he was not before assured of, and found that his amiable Delia, who, while they were in Cilicia, could never be persuaded to declare what sentiments she had for him, made no difficulty to afford him, even in the presence, and with the consent, of her Brother, the greatest proofs of affection he could have desired, from a virtue, such as was that of Delia. Above a hundred times that day had he embraced her knees, with expressions of love particular to his passion; and the modest Arsinoe, mildly putting him back, could not but with joy observe the continuation of that noble affection, whereof he had given her so many obliging demonstrations in Cilicia. The more he called to mind those pleasant entertainments, the more it added to h●s acknowledgements, insomuch, that the fair Olympia, whom Ariobarzanes had already acquainted with all the particulars of their History, conceiving an affection towards Philadelph, upon the account had been given her of his generous way of proceeding, took occasion to confirm Arsinoe more and more in the resentments she had thereof.  
Yet was not this felicity of Philadelph without some disturbance, for the experience he had of the King of Armenia's disposition, (which was such as admitted no reconciliation with his enemies) put him, not without some ground, into a fear he might refuse his alliance, and, out of the hatred he had to him, for his house, raise him some new difficulties. Arsinoe herself was not absolutely free from that fear, and could not dissemble it to Philadelph, when he discovered his to her: but Ariobarzanes gave him the best consolations and assurances he could, by promising him that he would further his interests as much as lay in his power, even though the King his Brother should oppose them, and that he would perish rather than that Arsinoe should be any other man's than Philadelph. Besides, when it came to the worst, they had this course to gain the consent of Artaxus, still left with them, which was to make use of the authority of Augustus, who had such an influence upon the King of Armenia, that he could not deny him any thing, having some intentions, to that very end, to cast themselves under the protection of Augustus, who had sometimes profferred it them, and making no doubt but that he would employ the utmost of his interest to effect their quiet, not only upon their own entreaty, but also upon the recommendation of Agrippa, who had promised to assist them with all the power he had with the Emperor. The same mediation they thought would prove effectual with the King of Cilicia, who in all probability would gladly comply with the desires of Caesar, though, on that side, all that was to be done was to satisfy Arsinoe, in regard Philadelph was fully resolved not to be troubled at any obstacle which through the means of the King his Father, might any way delay his happiness.  
As for Ariobarzanes, his trouble was much less, as being not obliged, as Arsinoe was, to be guided by the will of his Brother, and knowing no reason he could allege to disapprove the alliance of Olympia. However, he hoped he should not want Caesar's Authority, if it were requisite, and doubted not but he should find him favourable in an occasion which of its self was sufficiently such. The consent of Adallas he stood not at all upon, as thinking it unnecessary, and, besides that he had already given it, he had, by the inconstancy of his proceedings, given them but too clear a dispensation from all ordinary proceedings. The greatest regret he now had, was, that he wanted a Crown to present Olympia withal, as Adallas had sometimes cast it in his dish. For though that Princess seemed to be very well satisfied with his present condition, and to prefer his person before all the Empires of the World, yet had it been no small difficulty to him to digest the displeasure he conceived thereat, had there not been'a certain hope left, that with the help of the same sword which had defended Thrace with so much valour, he might possibly raise Olympia to the dignity of her Ancestors. Besides, it must needs be some grief to him, to observe, in the Princess' countenance, the alteration, which her sickness and sufferings had wrought therein; but he doubted not but that in an age, such as was that of Olympia, joy might recover what sadness had taken away, nay, he was further of opinion that the change which her condition had received that very day, had in that small space of time retrived no small part of her beauty.  
These four, mutually loving, and mutually beloved persons, having thus passed the day together, understood at night, and not long after the return of Elisa and Candace, some part of what had happened to them, and how that the Princess of the Parthians, had almost been carried away: but what they heard was with some uncertainty and confusion▪ And therefore since it was very late, and that they were assured the Princesses were sasely arrived in the palace they forbore the visit they intended them till the next day, as being only to express how much they concerned themselves in their adventure, and their desires to be acquainted with the particulars thereof.  
In the mean time, Candace, and the fair Elisa being retired to the lodgings appointed them, after they had endured the conversation of Agrippa and Cornelius for the space of an hour, were no sooner left alone with the women that attended them, but perceiving themselves delivered of the company that had hindered them from entertaining one another when they had the greatest desire and opportunity to do it, they caused their chamber door to be made fast, that they might discourse with greater privacy and liberty. After they had looked upon one the other, with eyes wherein might be perceived some part of what they had to say, they embraced one another with as much earnestness, as if it had been a long time since they had met. Whereupon, sitting down together upon a bed, Candace began first to speak, and pressing Elisa's hand between her own, with an action expressing the greatness of her friendship; Well then, my dearest Princess, said she to her, will you not for the future give credit to my predictions, and was I not a true prophetess when I promised you a happy change in your fortune? Fairest Queen, replied Elisa, returning her caresses, I should but poorly acknowledge the happiness it was to me to meet with you, should I not have derived from it all the advantages I could expect, for I have not only found what I gave over for lost, according to your prediction, but I have found it by your means, and through that inspiration which no doubt you had from Heaven, to take me along with you to that happy walk. So that it seems then, replies Candace, I am not like to be henceforth the most satisfied of us two, and that you will return me some part of those consolations which you have received from me, when I shall bewail Caesario, as you did Artaban. May it not please the gods, replied Elisa, that you have the same occasion to do it? I had with these eyes seen Artaban buried in the waves, and you have seen Caesario living within these few days, and know that he is not far from Alexandria. I know not certainly, replies Candace with a sigh, whether I may trust my own eyes or no, and through the experience I have of my own unhappiness, I begin to imagine that rencontre a pure illusion. But whatever it may have been, I am content for this day to suspend the remembrance of all my misfortunes, to dispose myself the more absolutely to joy out of a compliance with your good fortune, wherein I think myself so much concerned that I can hardly believe your apprehensions of it more lively than mine. This argues you as excellent in point of goodness, replied Elisa, as you are in all those great perfections which make you so admirable a person, and these I am so extremely sensible of, that .......  
No more of that, I beseech you, saics Candace, interrupting her, I do not expect any acknowledgements, from you, of an affection, which, being but too much your due, the expressions I make you thereof cannot be excessive, nay I question not but your merit will force as much from all the World besides. But since it is lawful for me to rejoice with you, now that all occasions of your weeping are taken away; do you not expect I should reproach you with a felony you are guilty of towards me, for having stolen from me a man, whose first inclinations, if I am not much mistaken, were directed to me And consequently you will give me leave to charge you with the trick you put upon me, in that, when you related to me the great actions of Artaban, you would not let me know that it was Britomarus, and that, when I gave you an account of the first actions of Britomarus, you would not tell me it was your Artaban.  
You charge me with two things, replied the Princess, whereof I shall find it no great difficulty to clear myself. For the former, which is, that I have robbed you of the heart of Artaban, I am to tell you, that the age and condition he was of when he was with you, considered, there is little probability he should lift up his eyes so high as you; and that further, supposing that might happen, the treatment he received from you, continued she smiling, might ha●ly displace you out of his heart, so that there might not possibly be any necessity he should meet with Elisa the more to alienate his inclinations from you. And for the latter, which is, that I had not discovered to you that Artaban was the same person with Britomarus, I can assure you, that I have ever been ignorant of it as well as yourself; that Artaban never acquainted me with any thing that had happened unto him before I kn●w him, and that, being satisfied that his greatest glory consisted in the memorable actions he had done, whereof those of most consequence we had the knowledge of, I was never guilty of a curiosity's to know any more of his fortune than he was pleased of himself to communicate to me, out of a fear of engaging him in a discourse, which he should take no great delight in.  
I am very much troubled, added the Queen of Aethiopia, that I have acquainted you with that particularity of the first beginnings of his life, though it discover as much of the greatness of his courage, as the gallant actions he hath done since, and could I have thought that Britomarus was sometime to be Artaban, I should not have let you known how he had lived with me, in a condition not proportionable to the rank which he now deserves to be in among men. Assure yourself, replied Elisa coldly, that you have not done him any ill office by that discourse, and tha● Artaban, having only told us that he was of noble birth hath not been with you in any employment, which might derogate aught from the nobility of his blood. On the other side, added she, with an action more free and cheerful▪ I shall not blush when I tell you, that you put me into no small joy▪ when you let me know that Britomarus had had some inclinations for yo●; and, if I should think it any misfortune or malice of my destiny to have complied with the affection of a man, whose birth is disproportionable to my own, I should have this comfort withal, that I were not the first of my rank and quality to whom he had addressed himself, and thence fall into this consideration, tha● he might very well lift up his eyes to me, when he had had the confidence to do●● to you.  
This 〈◊〉 but a very slight ●●●fort, replied the Queen, but indeed you stand not i●● any need of it, since the virtue of Artaban is such as may both raise him to Crowns, and without doubt is to be preferred before them. But, my fairesh Princess, continued she presently after, will you promise me that he shall be no longer at any distance with Caesario if I may be so happy as to meet with him again? He hath made you that promise himself, said the Princess to her, and, not to mention the respect he hath for you, and the consideration he may have of the desire I made to him to that purpose, there is so much advantage in the friendship of Caesario, as that he will not only desire it, but endeavour by all ways to purchase it; nay I dare further promise you upon the experience I have of the generosity of Artaban, that, if ever any occasion offer itself, he shall with the hazard of his life confirm the truth of what he hath already assured you of.  
Elisa having spoken to this effect, Candace spent a few minutes as it were in a deep recollection, not making her any answer at all. At last, awaking as it were out of it, and lifting up her head, she spoke to the Princess with much more earnestness than she had done before. But, Madam, said she to her, if I am not mistaken, you related a while since, before Agrippa and Cornelius, how that when Tigranes would have carried you away, you had been relieved by a certain man that laid him grovelling on the ground, and killed two of his men.▪ 'tis very right, Madam, replied the Princess, I have been relived by a very miraculous person: one that must certainly be Caesario, since it was not Artaban. The distraction and trouble I was in, hindered me from taking better notice of him, only thus much I can remember of him that he was somewhat pale in the face by reason of some wound or sickness, that he seemed to be much about the age of Artaban, and though I cannot haply speak of Artaban, without partiality, yet me thinks, measuring all things by the little notice I could take of him in so short a time, that either in point of beauty or valour, this person was not inferior to him. According to the description you make of him, added the Queen, I should be almost persuaded that it can be of no other than Caesario that you received that assistance, as being satisfied that unless it be Caesario, no man can come so near, as you express it, the valour and handsomeness of Britomarus. Might it please the gods, my most amiable Princess! to afford me a comfort so great as that of being certainly assured that it was really he and no other, who had done us that service. And this I the rather wish, not only out of a reflection that you had received it from a Prince I infinitely love, and could not do me the like more to my satisfaction in my own person than he hath in yours, but also out of a consideration that this action might in some part take away the aversion which Artaban hath for him, and might prove a likely means of a reconciliation, and as it were a short introduction to that Friendship which we would establish between them, as by fortune and the sympathy of our dispositions it is effected between us. Do not I beseech you make the least doubt replied the Princess, but that Artaban will acknowledge this action with as much resentment as I do myself, and assure yourself, that, if I have received this relief from Caesario, his endeavours to gain his friendship will be greater than the dis-inclination he sometime had towards him.  
The two Princesses would have continued their discourse for some time upon this subject, when Clitia who not long before was gone out along with Cephira to take a little fresh air upon the Terrace, comes into the chamber, and persented herself before the Queen with a countenance wherein might be seen that the owner of it was in no small disturbance and astonishment. Candace having looked upon her, knew by demeanour that she had something to say to her: whereupon, causing her to come nearer, she commanded her to discover before the Princess the cause of that disturbance whis was so apparent in in her countenance. Clitia having looked about her, and perceiving there was none in the chamber but only Urione, whom they were confident of, takes the Queen by the hand, with a certain unusual eagerness; Madam, said she to her, the news I am to acquaint you with, is, no doubt, the best I could ever bring you; but indeed it is so great that you may well pardon the disturbance it hath put me into and which you took notice of. Caesario is in this palace, nay is come up upon the Terrace, and stays at your chamber-door. O ye heavenly Powers! Clitia, says the Queen, in a manner out of herself, what dost thou tell me? Is Caesario at my chamber-door? He is, replies Clitia, in the little Gallery which abuts upon the terrace, where he expects my return and your commands to wait on you. Taking advantage of the night and the confused number of persons that are in this palace he hath made a shift to get in; and being acquainted with all the passages of the place, as having not only been born here, but spent his youth in it, he hath without any difficulty got to your lodgings, and hath walked upon the terrace, till such time as he saw me appear, and, by the discourse I had with Cephisa, knew my voice. Whereupon, having called me softly by my name, he acquainted me with his own, and not long after with his person, whereof I had an impression so well graven in my memory, that it would not have been very hard for me to dave discerned him in the greatest darkness.  
While Clitia gave this account of Caesario, the beautiful Queen was in a manner overwhelmed with an excess of joy, which, by a pleasant authority, got the dominion of her Soul; and, though fear and disquiet endeavoured to disturb it, yet was there a necessity they should give place to the first sallies of that passion and suspend their effect, till the first violence of the other were spent. The Queen, casting one arm abount Clitia's neck, Ah Clitia, said she to her, it is certainly decreed, that it is from you I must expect all the most happy tidings; and it was you that heretofore brought me word into the garden at Meroe, of the life and return of Caesario, at a time when I bewailed his death, and that I had renounced all the enjoyments of life.  
After she had said these words, she would have put a hundred questions to Clitia, and that all of a sudden, upon that accident: but she told her, that the time she had was to be otherwise spent, and that she must resolve either to see Caesario at the place where he expected her return, or permit him to come into the chamber. Now was it that fear beg●● to disturb her joy; and if, on the one side, she were satisfied to see herself so near the Prince she dearly loved, she trembled, on the other, when she considered, that he was in a Pal●●● whereof Augustus' Lieutenant had the command, and that a place where he must expe●t no less than to lay down his life, if he were discovered. This fear made her to shake again, and put her to such a loss, that she knew not what resolution to take, looking sometimes on Elisa, sometimes on Clitia, as if it had been to ask their advice what she were best to do. The fair Princess of the Parthians, who had received so great consolations from the Queen, together with such remarkable demonstrations of Friendship, conceived herself extremely concerned not only in the joy, but also in the fear which she now struggled with, and would have been as glad as the other to find out a way to see Caesario with as little danger as might be. But, after they had continued for some time in uncertainty, and at a loss what course should be taken, they at last thought it the safest way that he should be brought into the Chamber, it being then such a time of the night that it was not likely they should be troubled with any more visits, especially there being conveniences enough to hide him in case it were necessary, and that Clitia proffered, as soon as she had brought him into the Chamber, to go out upon the terrace along with Cephisa, and to walk there a while, to see if any body came, by whom they might be surprised. Besides all which, it made something for the security of the Prince that he was, not only, not known in Alexandria; but also his death was more firmly believed there, than in any other part of the world. Upon all these grounds summed up together, yet not without a great deal of doubt and terror, the Queen commanded Clitia to go fetch him in, whereupon Elisa thinking herself obliged in discretion and civility to go into her own Chamber, that they might be at a greater freedom in that interview, would have done it, but Candace embracing her would not permit it, and entreated her to be present at her felicity, as she had been at the happy meeting between her and her Artaban.  
Elisa, at the entreaty of Candace stays in the room, and presently after Clitia returns, bringing along with her the son of Caesar into the Chamber. At that first sight, these two excellent souls felt in a moment all that a passion, such as theirs could produce in a longer space of time, and their first looks communicated one to another, of an instant, what their hearts meant of greatest tenderness and passion. As soon as ever the Prince appeared at the door, the Queen ran towards him, with an action, whence he might easily infer, how welcome his presence was to her; and the son of Cleopatra, kissed her hands and embraced her knees with such transportations of joy, as might well convince her that his Love had not admitted of the least diminution or remission. Candace, after she had embraced him very earnestly with both her arms, while he was yet in that submissive posture, raised him up, and entertained him with all those Caresses which were suitable to her dignity and modesty, considering withal the violence of her affection. During the first expressions of their mutual satisfaction and joy, their discourse was accordingly confused, and incoherent; but when the violence of those were over, Candace, retreating some few paces back, as it were to take the better notice of the Prince; What Cleomedon, said she to him, the gods it seems have thought fit to restore you to me, after so many dangers as I had run through myself, and so many others wherein I had left you? But, Madam, replies the Prince, it was then decreed I should find you, after I had so unfortunately lost you, and what is more, I do not only find you living, and full of goodness for me, but I meet with you in Alexandria, in the Palace of my Fathers; and in that very Chamber, wherein I drew the first mouthful of air, and saw the first beams of light. 'Tis an accident, I must confess, replies Candace, that speaks something extraordinary, and if you are surprised at it, I must needs be not a little moved thereat. O how does this second life which I here receive, added the Prince, make the Palace of the Ptolomey 's much more dear and precious in my apprehension then the former which I ought it, and how easily can I bear with the loss of the command of it, when I find therein what is a thousand times more dear to me then thousands of Empires, and thousands of lives.  
To this discourse he would have added much more to the same effect, and the beautiful Queen, whose affection was not inferior to his, though, out of the civility and reservedness suitable to her sex, she moderated herself the more, looked on him with a certain delight, and had pleasantly seconded him herself in the expressions of his love, had she not thought it unhandsome to suffer any more, before the Princess of the Parthians, till Caesario had taken notice of her and saluted her. Upon that account, mildly interrupting him, she obliged him to turn towards Elisa, and prepared him to salute her as the greatest Princess upon earth, and the best friend she had in the World. Caesario, however he might be transported at the sight of Candace, was astonished, and in a manner dazzled at that of Elisa, and, coming near her with a respect, which her admirable beauty, and the words of Candace easily forced him into, saluted her with such submission, as the most inconsiderable of mankind might do the heiress of the throne of the Arsacides, and received from her all the civility she could have done him, had he been possessor of the Empire. He was not at all surprised to meet with Elisa, whom he knew before to be in Alexandria, and with Candace, but looking more earnestly in her face, he thought he had seen her that very day once before, and the fair Elisa taking more particular notice of him, discovered in his, that he was the same man whom she was talking of some few minutes before, and who had that day relieved her against the violence of the King of Media. She no sooner perceived it, but her gratitude and acknowledgement working their effect upon her, she turned towards Candace, with a countenance which partly expressed the sense she had of that Obligation. Madam, said she to her, our wishes are accomplished, and if you find in this Prince a person infinitely dear to you, I find in him, that of my valiant defender, and look on him accordingly as one whom I owe, not only my liberty, but also the happiness I have to be hear with you.  
These words put the Prince into a modest blush, and receiving them with abundance of submission; Madam, said he to her, I have done no more for you then you might have received from any man whatsoever upon the same occasion; but indeed it proved so favourable and so glorious a one to me, that I ought to have hoped for no less in Consequence thereto, than the great happiness which I enjoy this fortunate day.  
Having thus expressed himself, he thought himself obliged to observe a greater reservedness in the presence of Elisa, as conceiving it not fit he should disburden himself before her of all that lay upon his heart. But Candace, taking notice of it, would not suffer him to entertain any such thought, and after she had looked on the Princess with a smile; Caesario, said she to the Princess, since I have had sufficient experience of your respect, even so far, as not to fear any incivility from you even in deserts, and that the Princess hath a greater goodness and friendship for me than to deny us that liberty, I must tell you that her presence obliges you not to any reservedness, but what may be expected only upon account of the respect due to her, and not upon the score of any circumspection otherwise. And this you may be confident of, in that before her I call you Caesario, in Alexandria, and you will haply be the more assured of it when I shall have told you that she is not only acquainted with all our adventures, but also, that she is not ignorant of my most secret thoughts.  
Upon that assurance, and the freedom you are pleased to afford me, replied the Prince, I shall presume, my fairest Queen, to ask you what posture my life and fortunes are in, and to conjure you to let me know whether it be possible, that distance, distractions, and the dangers whereto you have been exposed, have wrought any change in that fortunate condition to which you had out of your own goodness raised me? May I hope fairest Queen, contived he (setting one knee to the ground, instead of sitting in a chair which Urione had brought to the bedside, where the Princesses were already sat) ought I, and may I hope that that precious affection, whereby you have made me the most glorious person in the World ............  
'Tis enough, said the Queen, interrupting him, and forcing him to rise, it is enough, I doubt not but you could answer that question sufficiently to your own satisfaction, were you so pleased, and I am in a manner confident, that you make not the least doubt of the constancy of an affection, which I have inviolably preserved for you, amidst traverses of fortune as great haply as those that may have happened to yourself since our separation. Not but I must confess, that I have been in more than ordinary extremities, and my life and affairs in such a posture, that I stood very much in need of your assistance. Ah Madam, replied the Prince, I have understood no less from Eteocles, whom it hath pleased the gods to preserve for my comfort; he hath indeed given me an account of that dreadful danger, whereto you were reduced, when you fell into the hands of the Pirate Zenodorus, and that admirable resolution which your virtue inspired you with rather to sacrifice your life to flames and waves, then to suffer any violence. It is possible, indeed, added the Queen, that that action might proceed purely from my virtue; but I must withal entreat you to conceive yourself a little obliged to me in it, and accordingly believe that the design I had to preserve myself absolutely yours to the last gasp, extremely fortified me in that resolution.  
Caesario was so strangely transported with joy at these obliging expressions, that he was at some loss how to signify the resentments he conceived thereof. And yet at last he made a shift to do it, but with such a disorder and confusion, as more truly discovered the greatness of his passion then the best couched discourse could have done. And when the Queen had suffered him to recollect himself in that posture, wherein she beheld him with abundance of pleasure; But is it just, said she to him, I should be any longer ignorant, how, and by what adventure I come to see you again, what good genius hath brought you to Alexandria, and what fortunes you have run through since our separation? It is just, replied the Prince, I should give you an account of what you were pleased to entrust me with, and acquaint you with the state of a Kingdom which you thought fit to leave to my management. That is not it, replied the Queen, which I am so desirous to press you to, and though I should be content to understand whatever you shall think worthy our knowledge, yet this fair Princess can satisfy you, that, in the discourses we have had together she hath observed, that the loss of my Kingdom was not the thing I was most troubled at.  
Your generosity is to be admired, replied the Prince, that is suitable to your admirable person, and I cannot express the experiences I have found of it, but by my silence and confusion. I shall therefore acquaint you, as well with what past at Meroe, as what hath been done in Aethiopia, since your departure thence, whereof the relation cannot be long, because it can amount to no more than a diary of some few days actions, and afterwards, what hath happened to myself, since it hath been my business to find you out.  
Now it comes into my mind, added Candace, when I entertained this fair Princess with a relation of our adventures, I forgot, to give her an account after what manner you got off from that bloody battle, which with a handful of men you gave the great and numerous army of Tirabasus, and where you were left for dead, and passed for such in my apprehension, as you did in the general opinion of all the World, till the day that I saw you again in the garden at Meroe. And though you since told me something of it, yet was it so confusedly that as well for that reason, as that I thought not fit to confound that discourse with the perfect relation I had to entertain the Princess with of other things, I made not the least mention thereof. So that it shall be your business to acquaint her with that particularity, which is all she wants of your adventures to your return to Meroe, and then we shall be glad to know what hath happened to you, since my departure thence. The discourse you have to make, you will, I know, contract what you can, by reason of the disturbance I shall be in, if you make any long abode in this place, where I cannot look on you without fear, as knowing what danger you expose yourself to.  
With these words the Princesses having called Urinoe, who only remained in the Chamber, entreated her to take such order as that there should not come near them any of the slaves that had been appointed to wait on them, and to have a care with Clitia, that they might not be surprised. After this precaution given, the Prince having seated himself between them, as the Queen had commanded him, after a recollection of some few minutes, to recall into his mind, the things whereof his discourse was to consist, began it at length in these terms.  

The continuation of the HISTORY Of CAESARIO.  
I Must needs confess that in the battle wherein, with 16000, men the greatest part wounded and unfit for service, I engaged with an Army of 100000. I did not do like an experienced General, or a man that had before commanded Armies and gained Victories. But it is also to be acknowledged, that it was not out of any hope of victory, that I came into the field, but merely out of a desire to die, proceeding from the despair whereto the misfortunes of my great Queen had reduced me, and to endeavour even at my death to shake, if not overthrow, the perfidious usurper of her Crown and Liberty. Besides, having considered all things, I found myself not in a condition to make my party good by retreating before the army of Tiribasus, which was come of a sudden upon us into that very field, where not many days before I had defeated 35000, men, and killed Antenor, the Brother of Tiribasus, by whom they were commanded. I shall not therefore spend any further time to justify that action, which will be thought more pardonable, among persons prepossessed by a violent passion, such as was that of mine, then among persons experienced in the business of war; and consequently shall only tell you, that I was not fortunate enough to effect what I had undertaken, though I had the happiness to see Tiribasus fall in the midst of his men with two or three wounds about him, & had this comfort in my misfortune, that, with the loss of my own; I saw the field covered with a number of carcases three times greater than that which I could make when I first came into it.  
At last it was my lot to fall, laden with wounds, amongst those that covered the ground with their carcases, and, as my good fortune would have it, my faithful Governor Eteocles, who still kept as near me as he could, having fought it out a little longer, fell also not far from me, with such wounds about him, as had deprived him of all sense and apprehension. The enemy spent the remainder of the day in shipping the dead, and in burying or burning their friends, but in regard that about that place where we were, the air was grown a little infectious by reason of the precedent battle, the Generals thought not fit to make any longer stay there, and thereupon marching all away in the night, they encamped at a good distance thence upon the way to Meroe insomuch that there were none left in the Fields but the dead, or at lest what were thought such by those that left them.  
Now the wounds of Eteocles proving not very great, and that his weakness proceeded not so much from their danger as the great loss of blood he had undergone, he made a shift to to recover himself assoon as it was night, and I am in this extremely obliged to him, that e'er he had bestowed many minutes to reflect on the condition he was in himself, he came to see what was become of me. He sought me out, and with much ado found me, notwithstanding the darkness because I was not far from him, and crawling along as he could to get a little nearer me, he came and felt me all over, trying by all the ways he could whether there were any life in me. The cold air of the night stayed the bleeding of my wounds, insomuch, that Eteocles finding me cold as ice all over, his first apprehensions concluded me absolutely departed this world, but at last laying his hand on my breast, he found by the palpitation of my heart, that there were some small remainders of life in me. The weak hope which this unexpected discovery raised in him, filled him with all the joy he could, in that condition, be capable of, and though he took abundance of pains about me to recover me to some degree of sensibility, yet all his endeavours proved ineffectual, insomuch that the whole night, which at that time of the year; was of the shortest, was over ere he could do any good with me. He many times endeavoured to get upon his feet, and to go seek out some help, but his weakness was such, that he was not able, and e'er he could half get up, he fell down again by me. I shall not trouble you either with the complaints that fell from him, or the grief it was to him, that he could not effect what he desired, and it were but to make my relation the more tedious to insist upon such frivolous particulars.  
The Sun was gotten into his Chariot when I first began to open my eyes, and to breath in such manner that Eteocles perceived it. He immediately creeps nearer my face, almost out of himself for joy, gave me so many kisses, and spoke to me with so much earnestness, that at last he absolutely recovered me to life again. I began to feel and to see, but had not the power to stir, and though I saw Eteocles, yet did I not perfectly know him, but as it were by some broken remainders of an Idea half forced out of my memory. In the mean time he perceived it was impossible for him any way to relieve me, and though he saw I was come to myself, yet did he in a manner put it out of all question that I would die for want of assistance, and, out of the fear he was in, it might so come to pass, he importuned Heaven with cries and exclamations, and did all that lay in his power to call in some body to our relief. Yet were they not his cries that wrought that effect; but it happened by an adventure very strange and unexpected, whereof, for many reasons, I thought fit to give the Queen but a slender and imperfect account, but shall now relate at large, since it hath been your pleasure to command it from me.  
I had already made a shift to open my eyes fully, though all I could do was only to stir them a little, when Eteocles hears the neighing of certain horses, and the noise of their going, which made him imagine that there were some people coming towards us. He thereupon looks about him, and perceives a Chariot coming into the field, among the dead bodies wherewith it was covered, and a man riding on horseback before the Chariot, as if he had been a guide to those persons that were within it. Those were only two women, one whereof filled the air with the dolefulness of her Lamentations, and there followed the Chariot only three slaves, all asoot. At last, when they were come quite into the field, the heaps of dead bodies hindering the passage of the Chariot, the Women that were within it, were forced to alight, and the Man that was on horseback having done the like, took the more considerable of the two by the arm, and led her towards the place where we were. Eteocles, whom this accident put into a great hopes of relief, took very much notice of all that passed, and distinctly heard the mournful cries and expostulations of that disconsolate Lady, which certainly were such as might have been heard many Stadia's. Her hair was loose and dishevelled, as if she had been fallen into some extravagance, her eyes showered down tears, her breast almost rend with the violence of her sighs, in a word, her deportment was no other than that of a person distracted and ready to fall into despair. Terrible death, cried she, implacable devourer of mankind, which appearest to me here in so many forms! it is possible, that in this place, where thou hast exercised thy power with so much cruelty, thou shouldst forbear to dispatch one miserable creature that defies thee, or that thou canst deny her thy assistance, after thou hast deprived her of all that could oblige her to shun thy face. Insatiable Goddess, to whom my malicious Fortune hath sacrificed all that the earth had that was amiable in my sight! is it possible thou shouldst avoid an unfortunate Woman as I am, while thou cuttest off such noble lives? and that, more inhuman in thy compassion than thy cruelty, thou must needs strike a thousand times at a heart which there needs but one blow to deliver from thy Tyranny.  
Here sighs and sobs made a parenthesis in her discourse for some minutes; but soon after, reassuming it with an accent much more doleful; Teramenes, continued she, my dear Teramenes, where art thou? why dost thou conceal thyself from me? O thou body that I have loved beyond all things; why dost thou hide thyself from her eyes that was sometimes so dear to thee? Art thou afraid, thy countenance covered with the horrors of death may frighten me, or that it will be a less delightful object to me in that figure, than it was in that wherein I was so much taken with it? No, no, my dearest Teramenes, even under that dreadful livery, under that irremissible ice of death, I shall think thee amiable, and it may not haply be impossible, I should by my kisses restore to thee some part of that which thou hast lost, and reinfuse into thy cold body that soul which thou hadst inflamed with a fire that death itself is not able to put out.  
At this passage she made a little truce with her Lamentations, but it lasting not above a minute or two, she turns herself to the man that conducted her: But Pelorus, said she to to him, where is then the body of Teramenes? You showed me in this place, with a confidence it was that where I should infallibly find it, and yet, among this vast number of carcases I see not that of my Teramenes. Fear not, Madam, replied the man to whom she spoke, it will not be long ere we find it, for now we are come to the place where I saw him fall yesterday by the hands of Cleomedon. No doubt, but he came by his own death out of the over earnestness he had to revenge that of your Brothers, who died by the same hand in the former battle, as also out of an excessive desire to have the honour of dispatching with his own hands a Prince of so great a fame. Cleomedon falling at his feet drew him upon him, and with that little remainder of strength he was yet master of ran him into the throat with a dagger which he had still in his hand. Teramenes, though mortally wounded with that thrust, made a shift to get off the body of the expiring Cleomedon, but after he had staggered a little, he fell down within some ten paces of him, and, by reason of the blood which, coming out abundantly, hindered his respiration, died immediately.  
Ah cruel man, cries out the Lady, ah inhuman stranger, whom I had never any ways injured, and that leavest thy native soil, to bring death after so many several ways into the breast of the innocent Erinoe! May it please the gods, since I have no other revenge either to take or desire upon thee, that thy body may be the prey of Vultures, and that thy shade may eternally wander amongst the most unfortunate ones, without ever obtaining of the infernal Gods any other rest then what thou leavest this miserable woman. Thou hadst opened the sluices of my tears by the death of a brother I infinitely loved, which thy unmerciful arms had deprived me of not many days before; but thou thoughtst it not sufficient to assault myself only upon the account of Blood, and Friendship, without sacrificing to thy cruelty, whatever there is in Love that is most passionate and most violent in the death of my Teramenes.  
While she disburdened her grief by such expostulations, he, who conducted her, showed her the body she looked after, which lay not above fifteen or twenty paces from us, and it was upon the cruel spectacle, that the desperate woman casting herself on the cold body with a great cry, fell into a swound, which for some time interrupted her lamentations and found those persons that were about her work enough to relieve her. For my part, I had not the least apprehension of any thing that passed, though I had my eyes open, wherewith, all I could do, was to look on the dejected Eteocles. But he had not miss one of these words, and was infinitely troubled to find himself so far from the relief he had expected upon that accident, as not doubting but that I should be discovered and known by those exasperated persons, if they saw me, and that, in the rage which then possessed them, they would take away those small remainders of life there were in me, rather than any way relieve me. On the other side he saw me drawing towards my end, & was sensible he should die himself, if he were not assisted, and in that perplexity, nor knowing what resolution to vain to take, he lifted up his eyes to Heaven, and desired that of the gods, which he thought it expect from men.  
In this interim the woman comes to herself again, and immediately discovered it by her mournful groans and lamentations: she embraced the frozen carcase, and bestowed thousands of kisses on a face all covered with blood, and that with such transportation as from whose violence Eteoclss could infer no less then that that of her love had been extraordinanary. Dearest Teremanes, said she, sometime the enlivening light of my days, but now a Luminary eclipsed by the interposition of eternal darkness! Are these the happy Nuptials that were prepared for our loves, and after the faithful test of so many traverses misfortunes, is it in this fatal field that I was to enjoy thee? Dear shade, which by an unhuman thrust hast quited this body, the object of my truest affections, and wanderest yet about these shores in expectation of sepulture! Infinitely beloved shade, dost thou forsake me for ever? And is it possible thou shouldst seek rest while thou leavest me in disturbances a thousand times more insupportable than that death which snatches thee from the embraces of thy faithful Eurinoe?  
Many other exclamations to the same effect fell from her, such as were the sad effects of her despair, and which Eteocles would have harkened to with more patience; but the danger wherein we were, or rather the desperate condition of our lives, took up his thoughts so much, that he could not afford her any longer attention. But indeed it was not long ere he had another motive to discover us, when the man that waited on that affiicted Lady, being come nearer me, and having presently known me, out of a confidence he was of that I had fallen in that place, and knew me very well by sight, perceived withal that my eyes were open, and that I was not quite dead. They had not stripped me naked because of the abundance of blood that was about my clothes but they had taken away the excellent armour wherein I had fought, and whereby I was so remarkable in the battle. Eteocles had wiped the blood off my face, so that the man could with less difficulty know me again, and thereupon returning immediately to his Lady: Madam, said he to her, if revenge may abate any thing of your grief, lay hold on the opportunity which the gods favour you with to offer a noble sacrifice to the Manes of Teramenes. Here, behold not only his murderer, but the murderer also of your Brother, is yet alive, and the just gods seem to have reserved those little remainders of life which he hath yet left purposely that they might in some measure satisfy your revenge.  
Never did any Tigress fly out with so much fury at those that had carried away her young ones, as that exasperated and desperate Woman did upon those cruel words. She lays hands on a dagger which she spied lying on the ground among other arms, and running to the place where the man pointed, she was immediately with me, looking on me with eyes sparkling with indignation, yet so as through which satisfaction she conceived at her intended revenge, did in certain intervals, show itself. Teramenes, cried she, I am now going to sacrifice to thee all that is remaining of thy Executioner, and shall meet with thee again with greater joy, when I shall have appeased thy Manes with this victim.  
With these words she comes up close to me, (who was lying on my back with my face directed to Heaven, and my eyes open, which I weakly fastened on the objects, yet so, as that I was not able to discern what past) and lifting up her arm to thrust the weapon into my breast, it was coming downwards upon me, when Eteocles lifting himself half up, put forth his hand, and, laying hold of hers with greater force than in all probability he seemed to have had in him; Hold thy hands, cruel Woman, said he to her, spare the blood of the gods, and do not, by thy cruelty, shorten, for some few minutes, the noblest life in the World.  
Eurinoe was so surprised both at the action and the words of Eteocles, that the dagger fell out of her hands, and she was at such a loss as to all resolution, that she could only look on the man whom the gods seemed to have purposely raised up to prevent the effect of her resolution. But at last her passion being still the most predominant in her mind, her rage grew more violent than it had been before, and running to another weapon which she saw, not far from her. Do not hope, said she to Eteocles, thou shalt divert me from the sacrifice which I owe my Teramenes, and be content with this comfort, that his Executioner hath but those weak remnants of life, where as I should wish him a hundred lives, that I might take a nobler revenge of them altogether.  
With these words she comes to me on the other side, and at a place where the assistance of Eteocles would have stood me in no stead; desirous to execute her revenge with a greater satisfaction, she would needs look upon me, and so as she lifted up her arm, fixed her eyes on my countenance. Eteocles hath told me since, that even in that languishing posture wherein I then appeared to the sight of Eurione, there was something in me more beautiful than ordinary: my eyes looked more gently, because I looked more dejectedly then I should have done otherwise, and my hair stained with blood in some places, playing with my cheeks, by reason of a little wind that then blue, heightened the little beauty which still remained in my face, whereof the paleness must needs be thought an extraordinary whiteness, in a Country where ordinary degrees of whiteness are thought rare and admired. I fine, for my part, I know not with what advantage I appeared in the sight of that incensed Woman; but the arm she had lifted up, remained in that posture, and at the same time having gently turned my eyes upon her, with a feeble groan, her indignation was disarmed at that object, and the weapon fell out of her hand the second time.  
The man that waited upon her, thinking he did her a very acceptable service in egging her on to take the intended revenge, put the weapon into her hand the third time, and encouraging her to the action she would have done, was ready to help her to put it in execution, when the woman looking very passionately upon him, Hold thy hands, said she to him, it is not the pleasure of the gods that I should put Cleomedon to death. The man, who was, on the other side, as ready to obey her, was quiet, and Eurinoe having sat her down some few paces from me, began to look very earnestly upon me, and ever and anon disburdened herself of certain sighs which her breast was not strong enough to keep in. She looked still more and more earnestly, and the more she looked on me, the more she seemed to struggle with her passion, and by all her deportment it was easily visible to those that took notice of it, that there passed strange things in her soul, and that there was an engagement of passion there, whereof she was not over-confident which should have the Victory. Sometimes she would take her sight off my countenance with some signs of reassuming her resolution; but presently after she would fasten her eyes on me again with greater earnestness than before, and during those uncertain and impetuous motions which raised such a tempest in her soul, she with much ado made a passage for certain sighs. Which when she had disburdened herself of, Cruel man said she, loud enough to be heard by Eteocles, who was the next man to her, fatal Enemy of our house, must thou needs, after thou hast triumphed over the life of my Brother and my Lover, prosecute thy Victorious arms even into my heart? With these words she held her peace, and observed not without confusion, that Eteocles might have overheard them.  
I here entertain you with a discourse not much consistent with the modesty which is natural to me, and which Eteocles might better have undertaken than myself; but it was your pleasure to command it, and I know not any reason whereby I may be dispensed from the obedience I owe you.  
While the Woman was still struggling with the incertainties she was in, and that by several discoveries it was visible, that she was guided by a passion contrary to that which a little before had put the weapons into her hand to dispatch me; Eteocles, who, notwithstanding the extremity whereto he was reduced himself by reason of his wounds, was satisfied of the truth of his observation. Being accordingly desirous to make what advantage he could of the adventure, wherein he could not but imagine something miraculous and extraordinary, and looking on Eurinoe in a very submissive manner: Fair Lady, said he to her, since your indignation hath submitted to your pity, be not generous by halves, and consider with yourself, that to thrust a dagger into the ●reast of Cleomedon, and to leave him without relief in the condition whereto you now see him reduced, is, no question, one and the same thing. Let your virtue have an absolute conquest, in favour of a Prince who hath offended you only through his misfortune, and will serve you by his acknowledgements, if the gods shall, through your assistance, prolong your life.  
Eurinoe needed no more prevalent solicitation to oblige her to do a thing which she was earnestly bend to do, and thereupon giving Eteocles an immediate answer; I shall satisfy your desires, said she to him, I shall relieve Cleomedon, though he be the murderer of both my Brother and my Love; and the gods who were not pleased he should receive his death at my hands, command me to preserve his life, if it be possible.  
With these words, turning to the man that accompanied her; Pelorus, said she to him, the hazard I run in this action is very great, and, besides the report I am to fear by doing this good office to him that hath shed the blood that was so dear to me, you know I have yet one Brother left about Tiribasus, exasperated to the revenge of his own relations, and without doubt an irreconcilable enemy of Cieomedons'. But I have so great a confidence of your fidelity, that all my hope is in it, and I am accordingly inclined to believe, that you will not betray this secret, and will afford me your assistance upon an occasion of so great consequence. The man, who was become absolutely her Creature by the death of his Master, complied with her in all things, and promised her to be as secret as she expected.  
But why should I importune you any longer with the relation of particulars of little consequence? By the command of Eurinoe, & the care of those that were about her, a horselitter was prepared & brought to the place were we were, into which I was put, & Eteocles by me, and we were conveyed as gently as could be possible, to a Castle which was but one hours riding from that place, where we were at first disposed into several beds, but in the same chamber, Eteoc●es, it seems being very unwilling to be in any other place then where I was.  
But now give me leave to beg your attention, O ye great Princesses, and withal your astonishment, as what I have to tell you, or at least be pleased to infer thence the constancy of those affections which seem to be the most violent. You have heard the account I have given you of the affliction Eurinoe was in for the loss of her Teramenes, as also of her lamentations and her deportment full of despair and extravagance, which in all probability were the expressions of the most violent love that a soul could be capable of: and now you are to know that when she left the place, whence she caused us to be conveyed away, she hardly so much as thought on him, or at least bestowing all her pains on the living, who might stand in need of her assistance, she thought it enough to give Pelorus order to cause the body of Teramenes to be carried away, and to see it buried.  
They presently sent into the next Town for Surgeons, by whom we were dressed with much secrecy, taking great care they should not come to the knowledge of my name who knew me not by sight. And these being excellent men in their profession, their endeavours proved so successful on me, that, ere that day was passed, they brought me absolutely to myself again, and within a few days after undertook to Eurinoe, and Eteocles, that I should not die of my wounds. I have understood since that Eurinoe entertained that assurance with as much joy as if her life were concerned in the preservation of mine; but for my own part, I can truly affirm that I received it without any, and that after I had recovered my memory, and began to make my first reflections on the wretched condition I was in, I had almost cast myself, through my own despair into that danger out of which they took so much pains to deliver me. Whereof this certainly must be the reason, that the violent desire of death which forced me to engage in the fight, being not yet gotten out of my mind, I should in all likelihood have followed what that inspired me with, and had tendered the endeavours of those that took so much trouble upon them about my recovery, absolutely ineffectual, had it not been for the continual solicitations and importunity of Eteocles, for whom I have ever had a very great esteem, and a most affectionate friendship.  
I shall not trouble you with a repetition of all those reasons whereby he endeavoured to make me apprehend, that I did not only betray a great want of prudence, but that I was guilty of a capital crime against my Love, by courting my own death, at a time, that my life might be necessary for the Queen's service, and that since I had not received any tidings that she was either dead, or married to Tiribasus, there was no reason I should rush into extremities, which I might overtake time enough, when those misfortunes were come to pass. To be short, he pressed these things to me with so much reason and conviction, that I began to acknowledge the truth of them, and to submit to his judgement, that it was not well done of me, to hazard upon such light grounds a life which I had bestowed, and consequently could not dispose of myself, while she that was the Mistress of it, might expect any service out of it. Upon this consideration I was content they should endeavour my recovery, and entertained with great acknowledgements the care they took of me.  
As soon as I had arrived to such a degree of recovery, as that I was able to endure discourse, Eteocles came and told me what place I was in, and by what adventure I was brought thither, and at the same time acquainted me what aversion Eurinoe had had for me upon account of the death of her Brother and her Love, and what affection she had conceived for me of a sudden. Now his health being in a much better posture than mine, as having given over keeping his bed, while I was yet in great danger, he had had more leisure to inform himself of all that he was desirous to know, and had understood that Eurinoe was a Widow of very great quality, that her friends and her husband had always kept her at a distance from the Court, that she had had two Brothers, very deeply involved in the interests of Tiribasus, whereof the younger was slain in the late Battle, and the elder had stayed at Meroe by the orders of Tiribasus, who affected him very much, and reposed great trust in him; that she had been very earnestly courted, since her widowhood, by that Teramenes, on whom she had bestowed, so many tears, a person it seems of very great worth and very amiable as to his person; that she had loved him very dearly, and that after many great traverses and revolutions, she was upon the point of marrying him with the consent of her friends, when death deprived her of him. Eteocles acquainting me with all these things, told me withal how circumspectly I should carry myself, that I might not be discovered by any other persons than those whom Eurinoe was forced to trust with that secret, not doubting but that, if such a misfortune should happen, my life must needs be in manifest danger, as well by reason of the rage of Eurinoe's Brother, as the near relation he had to Tiribasus, who, out of all question would never suffer me to live, should he once find out were I were retired. But, as things stood, the security of that secret consisted not altogether in our circumspection, for Eurinoe was so much concerned in it herself, not only out of the desire she had to preserve a person on whom she had bestowed her affection; but also for fear of her Brother's indignation, whose savage humour she was acquainted with, that she omitted nothing which in point of care or caution might be expected from her.  
I shall not presume, my great Princesses, before you, whose beauties eclipse what ever is beautiful in all nature, to say any thing of the beauty of Eurinoe, but certainly among the beauties of the rank next inferior to the first and chiefest, she might very well pass for a handsome woman, somewhat duskish, not absolutely black, the lineaments of her face very good, of a good stature, and in a word one of the handsomest persons that ever I met with in Aethiopia. I should commend her farther, were it not that you would imagine, fairest Queen, that in the commendations of her beauty, I should have no other design, then to celebrate my own fidelity.  
As soon as I was grown any thing capable of conversation, I had her perpetually at my bedside, and I soon observed in all her deportment what Eteocles had told me before of her affection. Her modesty-indeed was such, that she would not in words discover what her heart was burdened with; but her eyes betrayed some part of it, and all her actions sufficiently confirmed the observation which Eteocles had made of her. During some few days, at first, while the success of my recovery was yet doubtful, & my fever very violent, she said little to me, & I saw her not but at some certain times; but when I was a little recovered and permitted to discourse, she was very liberal of her company. She was one day at my bed side, where she seemed to be extremely satisfied to see my health in so good a posture, when I, venturing to speak, more than I had done before, took occasion to give her thanks & to make all the acknowledgement I could of her care & tenderness towards me, & commended the generosity she exercised towards a man who had been of a party contrary to that of her Friends, & withal so unfortunate as by the chance of war to do her a displeasure. She patiently bore with my discourse, & taking her advantage of my silence, My lord, said she to me, I have done no more for you than your virtue deserved; but shall entreat you not to attribute merely to a consideration of generosity all that I have done to serve you. After you had not only been the death of my Brother, but also deprived me of a person I infinitely loved, and one with whom I was upon the point of marriage, there was no reflection of generosity strong enough to oblige me to do an action, whereby, I cannot but incur, if it be known, the reproaches of all the world, and the indignation of all my kindred and you may therefore well judge, that it must proceed from some more powerful motive, that I conceived myself engaged to relieve you. I shall take it upon what ground you please, replied I, but you will give me leave to imagine that it is merely to your goodness that I am to attribute the assistances I have received from you, since I had not any ways deserved them. If it be merely upon the account of goodness, replied she with a sigh, alas! how fatal will that goodness prove to me, and if I am only good to you, how cruel am I to myself! It would be an infinite trouble to me, replied I, to think that the good offices you do me should cause you any displeasure, and therefore when my health shall be in another posture than it is now, I shall heartily spend this life, which I have received from your courtesy to protect you against whatsoever you may fear. You yourself, said she, casting down her eyes with a blush which covered all her face, you are the most dreadful of my enemies, the only person I can fear, and the only man against whom you can offer me your assistance.  
These words, though I were not at all surprised thereat, put me to such a loss that I knew not what answer to make her, and seeing me silent as seeking what to say; It plainly argues in you, added she, an excess of cruelty to pretend yourself ignorant of my condition, after what you have discovered yourself, and what you might have understood from Eteocles. You cannot be yet to learn that miraculous alteration of my heart and sentiments, which, by reason of the inexpressible suddenness of it, must needs proceed from some superior power, or a strange fatality ere it could pass out of one extremity into the other, It is impossible you should not take notice of its engagement in my actions since, and in fine you but too too well perceive all the transactions of my soul, for me to trouble myself to acquaint you therewith by my discourses. I am not naturally very much inclined to make declarations of this kind, but I have not been able to contain myself in an adventure absolutely prodigious, and whereof all the consequences must needs be extraordinary.  
Here Eurinoe put a period to her discourse not without great discoveries of confusion, and I was in too much disorder myself, not to be astonished thereat, as perceiving myself reduced out of necessity, to act a part for which I had so much a version. I thought it fit to make her some answer, and after I had studied sometime to dress it with such obliging expressions as that I might neither engage myself nor deceive her; Madam, said I to her, I now perceive I am much more happy than I thought myself, since I must infer from your discourse, (it being your pleasure I should) that I owe that to your affection, which I thought myself obliged for only to your pity. This happiness is too great not to be esteemed and acknowledged by a person that hath the least pretence to respect and gratitude, and I must therefore promise you that you shall find my heart as well furnished, as to that point, as you can desire yourself. This was all I said to her for the first time, and I was not able to judge, whether she were satisfied or displeased at it, for that Pelorus, whose fidelity she began to mistrust, comes into the chamber, which obliged her to fall upon some other discourse, and not long after to leave the room.  
The discoveries of this affection of Eurinoe had made some further impressions upon me, if my soul had not been then struggling with other afflictions which I thought more insupportable and if the knowledge I might have had of the extremities whereto my Queen had been reduced through the Tyranny of Tiribasus had not tormented me with such a violence as afforded me but little leisure to think of any thing else. Woe is me! what cruel reflections was I persecuted with at that time, and how often in the day, did I represent to myself that my fairest Queen was fallen into the power of Tiribasus, and, it may be, upon terms of yielding to his violence? Then was it that I seriously repented me of my rashness in pursuing my own death, at a time that I should most have husbanded my life to do her further service; and I thought that if I had minded my own safety, I might have been able, alone, and by some other ways, to take away Tiribasus▪ s life in the midst of all his Guards. That which aggravated my grief, was, that I durst neither inquire after any news from the Queen, nor give any credit to what I heard related in that place, as being such as I could not but suspect. On the other side I could well remember that just upon my engagement in the battle, I had writ her a Letter, whereby I gave her to understand, that I was going to inevitable death, and consequently made no doubt, but that the news of my departure was soon brought her, and spread all over Aethiopia. And this I saw must needs prove prejudicial to me two ways, either by exposing her to a grief for my loss, proportionable to the first experiences I had received of her favours, or by exempting her, by my death, from the obligation she had to my Love, and the promise's she had made me.  
I was so tormented with these cruel reflections that I saw there was no remedy, but patiently to expect my recovery, and to hasten it all that lay in my power, it being not to be expected I should there meet with any express messenger whom I d●r●● trust with the secret of my life, and Eteocles being absolutely resolved not to leave me in the doubtful posture I was in as to point of health, and withal in a place where I lay subject to a thousand dangers if my abode there were discovered. I therefore resolved, with much difficulty, to comply with the present necessity, mustering up all the forces of my mind to my assistance in that emergency; while in the mean time my fairest Queen was still in my thoughts, and her idea, as it was the cause of all my sufferings, was also the ground of all my consolations.  
That part of the Castle into which we were disposed was at some distance from all the rest, so that those persons that were in the others, knew nothing of what was done where we were, Eurinoe having so ordered things that all was carried on with the greatest caution and secrecy imaginable. By this means had I all the accommodation and attendance I could desire, insomuch, that, having kept my ●ed a month, I at last began to sit up, and to walk a little about the room. Now had I so much of Eurinoe's company, that she was in a manner never from me, making it her business, by all her discourses, though ever clothed with modesty enough, to convince me of the greatness of her affection. ay, on the other side, expressed myself with as much acknowledgement; as I could possibly, of the obligations I ought her, as well because I thought it no more than civility to do so, as upon the advice of Eteocles, who would not have me by any means to exasperate her, and was afraid of the dangers it was yet in her power to bring us into.  
But she in the mean time was not satisfied with my simple civilities, and expected I should engage my heart in a love proportionable to hers towards me. ay, on the contrary, avoided all the occasions of saying any thing to her which might displease her, though I said not aught that she might be mistaken in, or on which she might ground any thing of affection. But one day, after she had pressed me very much to resolve on something, yet in a way full of sweetness and modesty, I thought fit to discover my thoughts more particularly than I had done any time before. Looking on her therefore in the most obliging manner I could; Fairest Eurinoe, said I to her, I have this unhappiness for one, among many others that are my perpetual attendants, that I cannot convince you of the sincerity of my intentions, and the real acknowledgements I have for all the great demonstrations you honour me with of your affection. This misfortune happens to me, for that I really have too great an esteem for you, to make protestations to you beyond what I am able to make good; but since you will needs oblige me to open my heart to you, with that freedom which I owe a person to whom I owe my life, and of whom I have received such extraordinary expressions of affection, I must tell you, fairest Eurinoe, that, since you are acquainted with my name and person, it is not to be doubted but you have had some account of my life, and consequently know how far I am at liberty to dispose of my affections. There are few persons in Aethiopia but know it, and therefore without obliging me to discover myself any farther, be pleased to reflect on what I can, and what I ought to do, and assure yourself that I shall be infinitely desirous to afford you all the expressions of my resentments that I possibly can.  
Eurinoe seemed to be a little dashed at this discourse, and it was some time ere she could make any answer thereto, but at last, having sufficiently recollected herself; I have, indeed, with all the Kingdom, said she to me, heard of the love you have for the Queen, the great actions you have done for her service, the intentions which the late King had to bestow her on you, and the hopes you may, upon just grounds, have conceived, that you may obtain her, and I am not so far blinded by my passion, but that I am sufficiently sensible of the disparity there is, as well in regard of nature as fortune, between Candace and Eurinoe, upon the account both of quality and beauty; nor is my extravagance come to that height, as that I would dispute with Queen Candace, the possession of a heart to which she hath any pretensions. But my Lord, you are withal notignor●nt, how that, on that side, all your hopes are blasted, that Candace hath now lost both her Kingdom and her liberty, and that all the good intentions she may have for you, stand you in no stead. She hath haply bestowed herself on Tiribasus, who is master of her person as well her dominious; and the inclinations she hath had for you, if they have not already, will no doubt give way to that cruel necessity, which allows her not the liberty to make choice of a husband.  
These words, wherein I perceived there was abundance of probablity and truth, came very near my heart, and not being able to conceal it from Eurinoe; The news you tell me is very doleful said I to her, and yet you tell me nothing but what what I knew before; I have been acquainted with the usurpation of Tiribasus & the captivity of Candace, but I know withal, that the gods are just and omnipotent, and that by a turning-cast of their power and justice, they may overturn Tiribasus, and raise Candace into the Throne. There have been seen among men revolutions as strange as that, and we must not quit hope till the utmost extremities of misfortune. But such a hope as that, replied Eurinoe, cannot be well grounded, and as it is not impossible but you might alone counterbalance, and haply overturn the fortune of Tiribasus, if you had had sufficient forces to oppose him, for you are not ignorant that there is not any body left which he needs fear, or that can with any probability prevent his establishment in Ethiopia. I can do it yet myself, said I to her not able to disguise my thoughts, what necessity soever there were I should do it, I may yet haply t●●art that fortune which you think so well established, and put him to as great a hazard upon the usurped throne he is in, as he was in, when he had the command of a hundred thousand men. Ah, my Lord, replies Eurinoe, trust not too much to that unfortunate presumption. Your courage is sufficiently known, but Fortune is not your friend, and your life is dearer to me then that I can, without trembling, reflect on the danger you must expose yourself to. Your fear, said, I smiling, is haply for Tiribasus, as knowing well that a miserable person that is careless of his own life, may endanger those of the most powerful and most fortunate. Cleomedon, said she to me, you do not, I hope, any way doubt, but that your life is much dearer to me then that of Tiribasus, since I value it above my own. I shall not take the pains to persuade you any further as to that point, but shall only add thus much, that how far soever my Brothers have been wedded to his interest, whether upon the account of fortune, or some alliance that was between our houses, and though Teramenes, (whom when living I loved beyond myself, and whom dead as he is, I should have loved to the last minute of my life, had it not been for the fatal sight of Cleomedon) was very much in his esteem, I could never, for my own part, aporove his proceedings, nor conceive any respects for an unjust man and an usurper.  
She would have said more, had it not been for Eteocles coming into the room, before whom she would not insist any longer on that subject. In the mean time, my greatest care was to hasten my recovery, being upon thorns to fasten on some occasion to sacrifice the remainders of my life, with some advantage, to the service of my fairest Queen. But the more I recovered my health, the more did Eurinoe's diminish, insomuch, that at last she was brought so low by that unfortunate passion, that I could do no less than pity her, if I may use that term with modesty, and was extremely troubled that I could do nothing to comfort her.  
I was at last grown so strong, that I durst venture out of my chamber, and to go in to a fair garden where she would needs have me to walk with her. I did it, though with much difficulty, she being forced to help me ever and anon by reason of my weakness. 'Twas in this place that she made all her complaints to me with more freedom than she could do in the chamber, and where I was many times extremely put to it, though I am obliged to give her this character, that, in all the most violent expressions of her passion, I never observed any thing to fall from her that was unhandsome or prejudicial to modesty. I urged to her, but to no purpose, the fidelity I ought to the Queen, and one day above all having pressed it to her more earnestly then at other times; Cruel man, said she to me, you have but that only argument to elude me withal, and I am confident, that it is without any hope that you make it a cloak for your cruelty. I have told you several times that, I would not dispute your heart with Candace, could you but think of her with any likelihood of obtaining her; but you kn●w well enough that she is lost as to you, and yet thrust a dagger into the breast of an unfortunate woman who loves you but too well, and pretend fidelity to a person that cannot think on you, and, no doubt, does not.  
These words, which I was extremely moved at, furnished me also with an answer thereto, wherewith I thought she should be in some measure satisfied; yet so as that I should not stand engaged to any thing, and thereupon taking her by the hand, and wring it, with an action that argued something of a passionate affection more than ordinary; Madam, said I to her, it is no small affliction to me to find you so doubtful of the sincerity of my heart, but since you are so incredulous, I must make you one overture more, which shall absolutely convince you of my reality. Since therefore you have already declared that you would not dispute my heart with Candace, and that it is only upon the supposal of her loss that I must be yours, I pr●test to you, by all the gods, in whose presence we now are, and make a solemn vow to you, such as nothing shall ever oblige me to break, that if Candace be lost as to me, and that I survive her loss, I shall never love any thing but the fair Eurinoe. Though she could not derive any advantage from these words, if rightly understood, and that I hazarded nothing by promising not to love aught but her, in case I could love any thing after the loss of Candace, yet I observed that this discourse wrought that effect which I expected it should, and that she was so strangely appeased, that for many days her thoughts were in a more than ordinary serenity, during which time I grew stronger and stronger, insomuch that I thought myself able, within a few days to get on horseback.  
Now was it that my disquiets persecuted me afresh, as having neither armour, nor horses; and knowing no means how to procure any, but only through the assistance of Eu●inoe; whom I was very much afraid to make any proposition to upon that account, as being confident she would do all that lay in her power to prevent my departure at lea●● as long as the could. And certainly I was not mistaken in the opinion I had conceived of her, and accordingly as soon as she understood, that I was upon some resolutions to be gone, she was so extremely troubled at it, that I thought it would have proved impossible to comfort her. This put me into a strange disturbance, as well out of the fear I was in, that her despair might produce something that should prove prejudicial both to herself and to us, as the improbability there was I should get out of her house, in the condition I then was in, without her consent, or indeed without her assistance. My thoughts were continually employed in finding out some expedient, and consulting with Eteocles, who was to seek in it as much as myself, when our disquiets were determined by an adventure that happened, and at which you will not haply be a little astonished.  
During the time that Eurinoe was troubled most with a fear of my departure, and that I found myself in such a condition as that I might get on horseback within three or four days, she took me along with her, as she had done divers times before, to walk in the Garden. And in regard I had now fully recovered my strength, she carried me into the mo●t solitary walks, and most remote, having wi●h her that Gentlewoman, whom she had entrusted with this secret from the beginning, as if she stood much upon the decorum and civility she had always observed towards me. After we had taken some few turns, we sat down upon a seat made of turss, at the end of a walk, on both sides of which was a high and thick hedge-row, and there, after she had spent some time in the remonstrances ●he ordinarily entertained me with▪ How cruel man, said she to me, can you possibly prevail with yourself to forsake me, and leave me in an indignation that I have made no impression upon your heart by so many demonstrations of a perfect affection? It seems then, that neither what I have done in order to your safety, nor what I have done against myself by exposing myself to the indignation and resentments of my friends, nor the violence I did for your sake, to an ancient and earnest passion, could never move that insensible soul of yours, and you make it a light matter to forsake me for ever, and to leave me at a time, when you cannot doubt but that the loss of my life depends on that of your sight.  
There fell abundance of other things from her, with such a torrent of words, as I knew not ●ow to stand against. But when that was spent, and that she had given over speaking▪ Eurinoe, said I to her, I shall not leave you, till such time as you give me the liberty to do it, and sh●ll be yourself satisfied that I ought to be at a greater distance from you, as well in regard of your concernments as my own. By the discovery I have made to you of my thoughts, you have understood that I am obliged to endeavour once more to do something for the service of an unfortunate Princess, to whom you know my life hath been long since devoted, and I were unworthy your esteem if I should basely forsake her in the misfortunes whereto she is reduced. This is it I am obliged to do, as to what concerns myself; and for your part Eurinoe, you must give me leave to teil you, that what may be thought lawful, and haply commendable in your carriage, during the extremities whereto my wounds had brought me, would not be thought so after the recovery of my health, and that it would prove very unhandsome, and much prejudicial to your reputation, that a person of my age, and one to whom you pretend an affection should make any longer abode in your house. What may have been kept secret hitherto, cannot be any longer, for time does at last discover things that are most concealed. You have abundance of Virtue, Eurinoe, though you have been overcome by some passion, and it is your Virtue as much as the assistances I have received from you, that I conceive myself obliged to esteem you for▪ Since than your Virtue is really more than ordinary, suffer it not to be stained with those spots, which it will be hard for you to get out again, and endeavour to preserve your reputation amongst me a by actions conformable to those of your life past. You will pardon me for being so free as to give you this advice, which assure yourself, proceeds from a heart full of grateful apprehensions, as also if I presume to beg no other love from you, than such as you would afford a Brother, since that you perceive by the posture of my affairs, that I cannot love you otherwise then as a Sister.  
I had not till then spoken in such terms to Eurinoe, whence it came that she was the more surprised thereat, in somuch, that for a long time she was not able to make any reply. And yet I think she had bethought her of something to say, when our discourse was interrupted by a little noise which we heard behind the hedg-row, against which we were sat, and not long after, by the appearance of a man, who, being come into the walk, made all the hast he could towards the place where we were. Eurinoe's thoughts being employed at that time much more than mine, I took notice of the man before she did, and saw that he was of a very goodly presence, a noble and majestic air, and had a very fair countenance for a man of that Nation, though he seemed to be weak and brought very low, and discovered in his eyes some dreadful resolution. Being, for my part, ignorant what occasion might bring him thither, I was very glad of a sword I had by my side, which Eurinoe had given me the day before, I had begun to wear it but that very day, to make use of, ●f need were, in a Country where I was to suspect all things: but Eurinoe, who had thought before that it was either Eteocles or Pelorus, cast not her eyes on him, till such time as he was come up almost to us. At the same time the woman that was with her gave a shriek, which she hearing, and endeavouring to find the cause of it in the countenance of that man, she immediately found it, when she knew him to be her unfortunate Teramenes, on whose death she had bestowed so many tears, and on whose body she had made so much lamentatition, and done things that sufficiently argued her extravagance and despair. At this sight she gave a great shriek, and she brought forth the name of Teramenes, and the terror she conceived thereat was so great, that she fell into a swound upon the seat where she was sat. Her action, that of the woman that was with her, and the name of Teramenes, which they pronounced, put me into an imagination it might be his ghost, or haply he himself preserved by some miracle.  
During that uncertainty, retreating back a little, when he was come up very near us, and putting my hand to the hilt of my sword; Stand there, said I to him, and if thou art only the ghost of Teramenes, disturb not any further by thy approaches, those whom thy presence hath frighted. Were I only the ghost of Teramenes, replied the man, it were to thee that I should address myself, as having been my murderer; but since I am Teramenes living, and recovered of the cruel wound which I received from thee in the battle, thou shalt not need to fear in this deplorable condition, him, whom thou couldst look upon without any dread in the head of an Army. I am Teramenes the over-faithful Lover of that faithless Woman, whose heart thou hast gotten from me, after thou hadst taken away my life, not only in her opinion, but in that of all the world besides. I was thine Enemy upon the concernments of Tiribasus who was my Friend; I became thy Enemy upon the wound I received from thy hands, which hath brought me to the extremities of life and death, and I have yet a more just ground to be thy Enemy for the injury thou hast done me in Robbing me of the affections of Eurinoe, which I was in possession of, and had well deserved. I must further acknowledge, that this last injury though thou hast done it innocently, had armed me against thee, and that I came abroad this day, though the first of my stirring, with a resolution which might have proved fatal to one of us; but the words that have fallen from thee, and which I have overheard, have wrought a change in my thoughts, and I have found so much virtue, prudence and goodness in them, that they have taken off all the indignation I had conceived against thee. I come therefore, no longer as an enemy, but as a person that hath a veneration for thy virtue, and as one that is an humble suitor to that generosity, which thou discoverest as well in thy actions as thy words, to beg that heart of thee, which thou hast taken away from me, without making any advantage thereof, and which thou keepest from me, yet wouldst rather be without it. Restore to me Cleomedon, a thing which thou hast no mind to preserve, or if thou wouldst be further revenged on the Friends of Tiribasus, behold the sacrifice, which I shall now offer at the feet of an ungrateful woman, of a life, which must now be as detestable to her as my death was grievous at the last moments of her affection.  
While Teramenes disburdened himself after this manner, and that I harkened to him with attention and astonishment, Eurinoe by the assistance of her woman, and that of Eteocles and Pelorus, who came in at the same time, was come to herself again, and might have heard some part of what Teramenes said, while Pelorus, who had cast himself at her feet, assured her that he was really living, and craved her pardon for having put such a tick upon her. The woman was so strangely at a loss between horror, astonishment, shame, and, possibly, grief into the bargain, for the return of a man she had then no affection for, that she knew not in a manner where she was, was not able to speak, and had not the confidence to look upon him. With this, she found it no small difficulty to be persuaded that Teramenes was living, though Pelorus had, by protestations assured her of as much, as but too too well remembering the last kisses she had given his cold and bloody body, and the orders she had given for his enterrement.  
While she was in this perplexity, Teramenes comes towards her, though by her shrieks she sufficiently discovered the fear she was in he should come near her, and thereupon stopping at the distance of some few paces from her, because he would not disturb her any further, and looking on her with a countenance where in his passion was extremely visible; Is it possible, Eurinoe, said he to her, you should be so much affrighted at Teramenes living when you could find in your heart to give him kisses when he was dead, and wash his face with so many tears! But can I think that change any miracle, cruel and ungrateful Euninoe, when I am so well acquainted with that of your soul; and that I am not ignorant, how that, in the same minute, you were seen to pass from the effects of the most violent passion in the world, to a mortal oblivion of him that had adored you with so much fidelity; and to new inclinations for a dying man, whom you had never seen before, and one that had 〈◊〉 the death of those persons▪ whom you thought dearest to you: I return, Eurinoe, I return, almost from Hell to reproach you with your prodigious inconstancy, and the gods have been pleased to restore me to life, contrary both to your expectation and my own, that I might come and represent to you, the many oaths and protestations wherein you have called them to witness, to your promises of an eternal affection for me. Is it possible that you can call them to mind without remorse and confusion, and can so many demonstrations of my love, which you sometime valued at the highest rate, come into your memory, and not raise in you either a secret grief or a secret repentance? Your hand was lifted up to thrust a dagger into the heart of my Murderer, and by an extravagance of passion, you were hurried into extremities not ordinary to your sex, when that fatal sight gave a check to your cruelty, and that new love, possessing itself of your soul in an instant, forced thence the unfortunate Teramenes in such manner, that you hardly remembered he had once lived. In the mean time, my life was preserved to my greater misfortune, and I wish it had pleased the gods to have put a period to it at that very minute when your affection ceased, and that their assistance, and that of men had not proved so effectual as to restore it me, to make me fall into the greatest unhappiness that ever man groaned under. Do you imagine, Eurione, that Heaven hath not a punishment for so strange an infidelity, and that the cries of a desperate and an injured Lover, will not bring upon your head those misfortunes which his Love permits him not to wish you▪  
To this effect was the discourse of Teramenes, which fell from him with a certain action, that raised in me abundance of pity, and he would have said more, had not the excess of his grief prevented him, when Eurinoe, having quite recovered herself, as convinced, both by the things which she heard, and by what Pelorus had told her, would needs stop the torrent of his words. Whereupon, smothering that confusion and remorse which had tied up her tongue so long, she looked on Teramenes, not without some remainders of the fright he had put her into; and not long after, venturing to speak, though with difficulty enough; Whatever thou art, said she to him, whether the Ghost of Teramenes, or Teramenes himself alive, thou hast killed my soul with terror and astonishment, I cannot look on thee in that condition, after I had honoured thy cold and bloody body with the last demonstrations of my Love, but I must needs be disturbed at so strange an adventure. Assure thyself therefore, that what thou hast observed in my countenance is merely the effect of that trouble, and not of that confusion and remorse which thou dost reproach me with, and though it might haply have proved more advantageous to myself to have continued my affections to thee even after thy death, since it was decreed thou shouldst come to life again, yet is it certain that thou hast lost them by a misfortune which I have not any way contributed to. With what justice, Teramenes, canst thou charge me with any infidelity towards thee? Have I been any way backward in the Love I had promised thee to the very last minute of thy life, or did we persuade one another that our Love should last beyond this life? What law is that which engages one to this eternity of affection towards the dead, or by what symptoms, could I judge that thou shouldst return to life, after I had caused thee to be brought out of the Field in order to thy burial? Those demonstrations of love which I gave thee, and what else thou mayst have understood from the unfaithful Pelorus, were they the effects of an ordinary passion, and was there not ground enough thou shouldest be satisfied with a passion which engaged me to do things beyond the bounds of Reason? To revenge thee, I became, contrary to my natural inclinations, more cruel than a Lioness, and would have attempted the life of an expiring Prince, at whose sight even Tygresses would have been moved to compassion. If I therefore were moved thereat, if the will of the gods, and generosity obliged me to assist him, and if since, (as thou art too well informed to be denied any thing) his excellent endowments, or some superior irresistible power, have forced my inclinations, and taken that place in my heart, which was not to be eternally kept empty for one that was dead, dost thou find in this misfortune that horrid infidelity which thou reproachest me with, or didst thou imagine that my obligations were as great to thy ghost, as they were, while living, to thyself? No Teramenes, think not that thou canst accuse me with any justice, and if thou hast been so unhappy to lose my affections, by an adventure so prodigious quarrel, with heaven, whose will it was it should be so, and not with my will which hath contributed nothing thereto. As to the misfortune which thou bewailest so much, my condition is not a jot happier than thine, thou mayst elsewhere find a better fortune than thou canst expect with the unfortunate Eurinoe, while in the mean time it is destined she should be eternally miserable, and exposed to that chastisement of heaven, which thou sayest must fall upon me, and which indeed I have already felt.  
The period of this discourse of Eurinoe's was a shower of tears which it lay not in her power to keep in any longer. Whereupon Teramenes whom it put to the extremity of grief, by reason there could not be a greater confirmation of the reality of his unhappiness, casting a dreadful look upon her: No, no, Eurinoe, said he to her, I shall accuse you no longer, but acknowledge with you, and submit to that irresistible power which hath forced your inclinations. But in regard my life might do your reputation some prejudice in the world, though my tongue were silent and that it is not to be doubted but that I am now as abominable, as ever I was amiable in your sight, it is but just my life should here determine, and that in such a manner, that you may not be therein mistaken a second time. The greatest regret I now have at my death, is, that I leave you an unfortunate woman, and if the virtue and constancy of Cleomedon could but give him leave to forget Candace to enjoy you, as you have, to gain him, forgotten Teramenes, the last entreaty I were to make should be, that he would be less cruel to her, and not aggravate any further a revenge which I desire not you should take.  
With these words he drew out a dagger he had about him, and lifting up his hand, would have thrust it into his breast, if I had not fastened upon him, and stayed his hand, though only with so much force as to prevent him from executing his resolution. Teramenes, perceiving his design frustrated, looked on me very disturbedly, and endeavouring to snatch the dagger which I had taken out of his hands; Cleomedon, said he to me, content yourself that the experience I have of your virtue, hath prevailed so far upon me, that I would not have the effects of my despair fall upon you, and since I am willing to spare those by whose means I am become miserable, purposely that I might execute all my revenge upon myself, hinder me not from freeing myself from those miseries which I groan under upon your account. I will hinder you to lay violent hands on yourself, said I to him, if it lie in my power to do it, and it shall not be my fault, if you do not find out some expedient besides that of death, to get out of those misfortunes whereof I am the innocent cause. Eurinoe knows very well, that it is not upon any hopes that I have given her that she persevers in the affection which she hath for me, & I here give you a full discovery of my thoughts when I tell you, that I should think myself a very wretched person, and abominable in the sight of heaven, if a love so faithful as yours should come to an unfortunate end by my means  
Having with these words taken away the dagger from Teramenes, I turned towards Eurinoe, in whom the deportment and last words of her husband had raised some compassion I said to her all those things which pity could suggest to me on her behalf, and alleged to her all the reasons which I thought might any way oblige her to dis-lodge me out of her heart, and to readmit her faithful Teramenes. For some time she was not able to make me any answer, other then that of a shower of tears, which being at last over, she very earnestly reassumed the discourse, and charged me with the greatest cruelty and ingratitude imanable. I heard all with abundance of patience, and not discovering the least trouble thereat, I took occasion to represent unto her, what might be the consequencees of an obstinate perseverance, in a fruitless passion, and that directed to a man engaged, in another love one that was ready to take his leave of her, and should not haply ever see her again; nay, which is more than all, one, that, though he were not called away by the affection he had for the Queen, could not make any abode with her, but to the utter ruin of her reputation besides the little probability there was she would be so extravagant, as to entertain in her house the murderer of one of her Brothers. To this I added what she might fear from her other Brother, who was still with Tiribasus, and that she must needs expect he would have some designs, not only against her life, but mine also, as being dear to her, but that, on the contrary, she could not but be happy with Teramenes. It being out of all doubt that he had an extraordinary affection for her, since the demonstration she had received thereof were very remarkable: that he was approved and recommended to her by her friends, and, in a word, that it was the only means to make a composure not only in her own mind but also in her house and fortunes.  
While I thus distburthened my thoughts to Eurinoe, Teramenes, having cast himself at her feet, bathed them with his tears, insomuch, that, whether it were upon that spectable, which stirred up in her the embers of her former affection, or that she was convinced of the reason and truth of the things I represented to her, and withal lost all hope of being loved by me, and haply imagined she might never see me again, after a doubtful engagement wherein we spent the best part of the day, she at last began to yield. Whereupon upon looking on Teramenes, with a milder countenance than before, she turned towards me, and told me she would do what I should advise her to, and that, being become mine through the means of some unknown power, she now submitted again to the same power, which she was not able to resist. Teramenes, almost out of himself for joy, after he had given thousands of kisses to her feet, cast himself at mine, embracing me by the k●ees, calling me the author of his safety, and his tutelary angel, and making all the earnest protestations he could to me, that he would heartily spend, to do me any service, that li●e wh●ch I had prevented him from destroying, and made him happy in. And knowing on the other side that Eurinoe might be in some fear he should afterwards remember the change that had happened in her affections, and accordingly conceive some discontented thoughts of the love she had some time had for me, he, to rid her of that fear, made thousands of protestations to her, that it should never come into his mind again. He told her that he absolutely attributed that accident to the extraordinary merit of Cleomedon, which might produce no less miraculous an effect any where: but in fine, that, however he might seem to quarrel with her, he was confident of her virtue, not only upon the former expressions she had made thereof, but also from that very demonstration of it, which, when he least expected any such thing, he had heard from the mouth of Cleomedon, that, for my part, he should never conceive the least jealousy or ill thought of me, out of a confidence. I should never prove unfaithful to Candace, either for Eurinoe, or any other person in the World.  
Here am I forced to contract my relation, for that, should I make it business to repeat all the discourses which passed upon this occasion to satisfy and convince Eurinoe, it would take up more time than I have spent in the account of all I have given you already. At last I made an absolute reconciliation between Teramenes and Eurinoe, who endeavoured, all that lay in her power, to conceal before him, the violence she did herself upon that occasion, and prevailed with her so far upon the earnest entreaties of that Lover, that I got her to promise that she would be married to him before my departure thence, as she might very well do, being, as she was, altogether at her own disposal, and knowing withal that her marriage with Teramenes was approved of, and desired by all her friends.  
At last we would needs know of him, how he had recovered to life, and had carried his business so secretly that Eurinoe never so much as suspected any such thing. He, in few words, acquainted us, how that, after we had been brought into the Castle, Peloru● returning to the place, where he had left him, with a letter to carry him away, found him recovered out of that mortal swooning wherein he had continued all the night, and some part of the day; that this man, being one that had been brought up in his service, overjoyed at the accident, had taken such pains about him, that at last he brought him so far to himself, that he was sensible of what was said to him. To this Pelorus added, That Teramenes had commanded him to carry him to Eurinoe's, as having no place where he might well retire any nearer, and that thereupon he had been forced to acquaint him with the truth of all that had passed, as having far greater respects for his Master then he had for Eurinoe: That Teramenes had almost died in good earnest at that cruel news, and that nevertheless, out of a desire to see the consequences of that adventure, and to apply those remedies which time and his own resentments should suggest unto him, he was content to be carried to a house that belonged to a Sister of Pelorus', not far from Eurinoe's Castle, where he might not only be privately looked after, in order to his perfect recovery, but also be in a place, where he might every day understand, by Pelorus, what was done at Eurinoes': That all things came to pass as Teramenes had desired, and that he had been waited on and dressed with so much care as might be, by persons concerned in his welfare, and such as had not any way betrayed the secret committed to their trust: That this had been done with the greater ease, by reason of Eurinoe's continual employment about me, and the little curiosity she was then guilty of, to inquire what was done in her neighbourhood: That he brought Teramenes notice every day of what was done at the Castle, in regard he might go and come to his Sister's house without the least suspicion: That Teramenes conceived such a grief and affliction thereat, that many times he was upon the point of discovering all, not doubting but that Tiribasus, and Eurinoe's Brother, and all of that party would soon find out some means to dispatch me, when they were once acquainted with the place of my abode, but that he had been persuaded to the contrary, partly by his entreaties, who desired him to delay it, and partly by those remainders of love which he still had left in him for whose sake principally it was that he forbore putting that bloody design in execution; that at last, through the assistances of those that were employed about his recovery, he was come to the posture of health wherein he saw him, and that having notice given him, that Eurinoe and myself walked every day in the Garden, he would needs come thither, to overhear our discourse, if it were possible, and to take his opportunity to be revenged of me in such a manner as might least prejudice the reputation of Eurinoe; That he had many times overheard our discourse, through the hedge-row, but that in those which I made to Eurinoe, he had found so much prudence and virtue, that he immediately changed his resolution, and that perceiving I had no affection for Eurinoe, he thought fit to make his advantage thereof, and had then discovered himself to us to implore my assistance upon the opinion he had of my generosity,  
Thus did Teramenes give us an account of his adventure, and prevailed so far with Eurinoe, that she pardoned Pelorus, who in those transactions had expressed a greater love to his ancient Master then to his new Mistress. But to what purpose should I spin out the particulars of this relation, all things were composed, quiet and serenity of thoughts began to chase away all former dissatisfactions, only Eurinoe discovered by certain sighs that her soul was not absolutely recovered, and, three days after, finding myself in a condition to depart thence, I charged Eurinoe with her promise, and in my presence obliged her to marry Teramenes. There happened some particulars in this action which I carefully concealed from Teramenes, and the next day I pressed them, to accommodate me with those things that were necessary for my departure, that I might repair to those places which I was obliged to go to, promising them, I should acknowledge, when it should please the gods to enable me, the assistances and kindness I had received from the officious Eurinoe. Teramenes granted my request, and furnished us with clothes, arms, and horses, and would have gone along with me. Had I accepted of his company: but I gave him thanks for his kind proffers, and told him, that I was satisfied he should be no longer my enemy, without engaging him to be any way serviceable to me against Tiribasus, who was much his friend, and so entreated him not to discover any thing he knew of me, and to promote the report which was already spread abroad of my death. And this I was the more confident he would do, not only upon the promise he had made to do it, but also out of a consideration of his own interest, which would advise him not to publish a thing, that might exasperate Tiribasus against him. They also taught me an invention which proved very fortunate to me; for, perceiving I was somewhat troubled how to conceal myself in the places I was to pass through, by reason of the fairness of my face, so different from the complexion of the men of that Country, they gave me a certain water, which is commonly used among the Ethiopians, by those that are desirous of a more shining blackness in the countenance, and having made experience of it first on my hands, they afterwards therewith painted my face, as also that of Eteocles, so that after three washings, we were grown as black as if we had really been Ethiopians. They gave me a little Glasse-Bottle full of it, to carry along with me, and showed me the way to take it off, when I had a mind to do it, which was, only with warm water and certain herbs put into it. In this posture, after some bemoanings from Eurinoe, which she was not able to forbear, and thousands of protestations which I made her, to acknowledge her extraordinary favours, if ever Fortune proved kind to me, I departed from that house without any other company than that of Eteocles, and one servant on horseback, Teramenes bestowed on me, and of whose fidelity he gave me very great assurances.  
The design I then had was secretly to get to those whom I knew to be still my Friends, and were desirous to serve their Princess, and had a zeal for the memory of their late King, hoping, that upon my return they would be encouraged to attempt something for the service of their Queen, whom I knew to be well beloved among the Ethiopians. Among those Telemachus and Oristhenes were the most considerable, and, having understood in my way that they were retired from the Court to certain houses they had in the Country, where they passed away their time in grief and solitude, I, without any danger, got to Oristhenes, passing through all palces, without the least suspicion, by reason of the blackness of my countenance, which disguised me so well, that you yourself, Madam, were mistaken in me. I shall not take occasion to prolong my discourse upon the astonishment of Oristhenes and Teremachus, when I had discovered myself to them, and when they sound me living after they had bewailed my death. They gave me thousand of expressions of their joy and friendships, and continuing still as well affected and as zealous for the service of their Queen, as ever they had been; they very cheerfully entertained the proposition I made to them, of attempting something against the Tyrant, and proffered of themselves to go, and secretly solicit all her faithful Servants and Subjects into some engagement, and to get together such a Body as might undertake some remarkable enterprise. They acquainted me, Madam, how you had been secured and guarded; and gave me an account of your admirable constancy in opposing the solicitations of Tiribasus, who was not yet come the utmost violences, but had gone so far as to put your most faithful Servants into some fear, that he would not long continue in those terms. I communicated to them the design I had to wait on you, and they were persuaded, that, considering how I had disguised, myself, I might come even into the presence of Tir●basus without any danger. I came to Meroe, where I had not the happiness to see you the first time; but the second, when I came into the Garden, I was more fortunate, and seeing you again, I laid as an offering at your feet your faithful Cleomedon, whom you had honoured with your tears, and who, through the excess of your goodness and favours, still lives in your memory.   
The end of the First Book.   

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA; OR Loves Masterpiece. Part. X.  
LIB. II.  
ARGUMENT.  
CLeomedon prosecutes the continuation of his History. He draws to his party 4000▪ men, with whom he forces the Palace at Meroe, forcing Tiribasus into the City, and sending Queen Candace along the Nile to Bassa. He maintains the Palace till the supplies raised by Oristhenes and others were come into the City, whereupon, sallying out to join with them, and jointly to engage Tiribasus, he meets with a party commanded by Asanor, defeats it, and kills him. He relieves Oristhenes, hard set upon, and consummates the victory by kill Tiribasus. Having secured the reduction of the City by a new oath of allegiance to Queen Candace, he goes after, thinking to find her at Bassa, but meets there with a probable report that she might be taken by the Pirate Zenodorus, whom thereupon he makes a fruitless search after till at last he was by a tempest cast ashore near Alexandria. Renewing his search after her upon Land, he meets accidentally with Artaban, they fight, but are interrupted by Zenodorus passing by, who is pursued by Artaban. They both fight against Zenodorus and his men, till that weakened by wounds and loss of blood, he is relieved by Eteocles, and brought by Alexander to a house where he hath a sight of his Sister Cleopatra, but discovers not himself to either. By the mediation of Candace and Elisa, he is induced to an inclination of friendship with Artaban. Olympia and Arsinoe come to visit Candace and Elisa. Philadelph goes to visit Tigranes, to whom he presses his vain pursuit of Elisa, and reproaches him with his former affections to Urania: Olympia and Arsinoe are made acquainted with Artaban, who know him to be the same Britomarus, who had sometime had some inclination for Arsinoe, and had rescued Ariobarzanes out of the hands of the Pirates. Ariobarzanes and Philadelph are made acquainted with Artaban, and acknowledge their great obligations to him under the name of Britomarus. Agrippa entertains Ariobarzanes, Philadelph, and others, with the loss of Cleopatra, upon which the Princes that were present take occasion to discover what they had every one contributed to that adventure.  
THE fair Princess of the Parthians and the Queen of Ethiopia had harkened hitherto with great attention to the relation of Cleomedon, without offering to interrupt him, but when he was come to that passage, Elisa looking on the Queen with a smiling countenance; You were very much to blame, Madam, said the to her, not to have discovered to me this particular of Caesario 's life, because, in my judgement it is none of the least important. But I withal perceive that you purposely avoided all occasion of giving me any account of the Love of Eurinoe, out of a fear you were in, that I might observe in your discourse, some glimspes of the jealousy you may have conceived at that adventure. You force me to a protestation, Madam, replied the Queen (with an action wherein she seemed to be as indifferent and as little earnest as the other) which is, that the greatest part of those things which he hath related, was not come into my knowledge; and therefore whether it were for the reason you allege, or for some other yet unknown to me, Caesario had given me but an imperfect account of that adventure, and had not discovered the particulars thereof that were of most consequence. You are very much in the right, Madam, replies Caesario, for indeed, I should gladly have avoided giving you any account of it, could I well have done it, and the little inclination I have to engage myself in a discourse of this nature might have exempted me from doing it now, had you not laid your absolute commands upon me to that purpose. I have therefore made a shift to get through the first and longest part of my narration, since you have already acquainted this great Princess with the entertainments that passed between us in the garden, as also all that happened even to the day, on which, after I had brought in four thousand men of those I had drawn into our party by the means of Telemachus and Oristhenes, I forced the palace, and that Tiribasus, having saved himself by getting into the City, I led you through the garden to a vessel which I had provided to carry you along the Nile to the city of Bassa, a place then at our devotion. Of all these things, replied the Queen, I have given the Princess an exact account, all you have yet to inform us of, is, what hath happened to you since our separation. Though this, replied Caesario, be the shortest part of my relation, yet is it that of greatest consequence, and I cannot but extremely wonder you should not be more impatient to know whether you have not still a Crown to dispose of.  
After I had brought you to the vessel, & there left you, though not without much violence to myself; to put the design we had undertaken in execution, which we had in some part effected, in as much as concerned your liberty, but as to what was yet to be done were in a very ill posture by reason of the escape of Tiribasus, I returned to the palace, where I found all my men absolutely resolved to make good what they had gotten, and to fight for your interest to the last gasp. I encouraged them in that design by all the words I thought might any way animate them, and put them into a posture of maintaing the Palace, in the best order I possibly could. I made no doubt but that Tiribasus, as being a much experienced in matters of war, would come immediately and set upon us with all the force he could of a sudden make, knowing that it concerned his safety to recover presently what he had lost, before those supplies came in to us which we expected. This he accordingly put in execution, as I had imagined he would, and he was no sooner gotten into the City, but he forced all the Citizens to take up arms, though the main motive of their obedience was their fear, their inclinations being absolutely for their Queen; and in the mean time having given order that all the troops that were in the suburbs and about the City, should rally under the command of Theogenes and Asanor, he got a considerable body together, and came against the Palace with abundance of fury. You know, yourself, Madam, that all the fortification there is about it, is a ditch with a low stone-wall flanked here and there with certain Towers. The ditch may soon be filled, as being neither very broad nor very deep yet not so easily but that it would cost a great many men to do it, the palace being made good by a considerable number of men, and those all resolved to sell their lives at the dearest rate.  
Tiribasus having made his assaults upon that side of the palace which lies towards the City, sent at the same time to secure all the boats that were upon the Nile, that he might only have the command of the river to carry on the siege against us, but also prevent us from making any escap that way. Nay I doubt not but that, if he had had the least suspicion of your departure, he would have sent some boats after you; but you might have been so far before he bethought him of that course. that I was out of all fear of your being taken before your arrival at the City of Bassa, where you were expected. Tiribasus made his approaches and carried on the assault, as a man that very well knew what he had to do; and causing some part of his soldiers to bring turfs, stones, faggots, and all such other things as were fit to fill up the ditch, he began to do it with abundance of earnestness, but there being within a considerable number of old soldiers, and such as were well versed in matters of war, and far greater than was necessary for the defence of the palace, while I gave order that some should rest themselves, the rest were disposed upon the battlements, and showering down arrows upon the Stormers that were below, they filled the ditch much more than all those other things did which the enemy had brought thither to that purpose. I had, as good fortune would have it, found out in the palace, an infinite number of arrows and all other arms, which it seems Tiribasus had caused to be brought in thither, and which was yet a further happiness going into that chamber which he had appropriated to himself since his pretended Royalty, I there met with my armour enriched with Eagles of gold, the very same which I had been stripped of after the battle, and which had been brought to him, as well for their sumptuousness, as to put him into a greater assurance of my death. I have been informed since that it was an officer that had fought under my command in the war of Nubia, and one that had some respects for me, that had hindered his companions from cutting of my head, to present it Tiribasus, as they were once resolved to do, and was content only to strip me of my Armour and to present him with them. This accident I looked on as a good omen, and thereupon putting them on with much joy, I imagined myself more hardly conquerable in them than that I had been before. I very diligently visited all those places wherein my presence might be any way serviceable, and omitted nothing that contributed aught to our defence, no more than Tiribasus did on the other side to carry on the assault. I once perceived him, amidst a many of his Soldiers, issuing out his orders with much earnestness, and having discovered myself to him by a great shout, I took a bow and arrows in my hand, and shot twice at him, the latter arrow coming so near his head, that he durst not continue any longer in the place where he was; and perceiving that, at the same time, I caused him to be shot at several ways, after he had threatened me by cries and gestures, he retired to a place where he was more secure. From that time I set upon him the best Archers I had, to shoot continually at him assoon as ever he should appear, by which means it came to pass that he was less confident in the assault than he had shown himself before.  
The number of men that I had within the palace was such, that I might have ventured to sally out, and have forced back the more daring of the enemy's side; but it was my greatest concernment to gain time, in expectation of those supplies which Oristhenes was to bring me, and which were raised with so much privacy, in the Cities that were still under our command, that Tiribasus had not the least intelligence thereof, and in the mean time to keep Tiribasus so in play, that, directing all his force against us, he might make the less provision against other enemies. Besides those I had about me in the palace I had four hundred men lying dormant in the City, in certain houses whereof we were confident, and under the command of Clinias a Nephew of Oristhenes; and these were ordered, assoon as the supplies were come, to join with them at a place appointed, and possess themselves of a gate of the City to make way for the other forces. I discovered some part of my design to the principal Officers, encouraging them to play the men that day, and promising them they should be relieved, if not the night following, at farthest the next morning. There was no great need of this solicitation, for they all fought with such eagerness, that, though Tiribasus had in some places filled up the ditch, and had brought scaling ladders to storm the place, yet all came to no other effect then that those who were most forward to get up, were tumbled down in the ditch, as it were to abate the confidence of those that were to come after them.  
You would haply think my relation very tedious and impertinent, should I give you a particular account of all the actions of that day, and therefore, I shall think it sufficient to tell you, that the Gods (who no doubt, had a vengeance in store for the Tyranny of Tiribasus,) took away the light of his reason in that emergency, and, depriving him of some part of his ordinary prudence, were pleased, that, blinded by the violence he was in to reduce us, he bent all his forces to do it, in such manner, that he made not any provision for the security of the City. Upon this account was it that he spent the whole day in assaults against us, but to no purpose, and having hardly taken one hours' rest in the night, he was at us again before day, much more furiously than before.  
In the mean time, Oristhenes, having landed in the Island without any difficulty, was, with the advantage of the night gotten to the very gates of Meroe, and, at the break of day, having given the signal which we were agreed upon with Clinias, he was presently at the gate, whither all his men, coming to him from several quarters, came about him, and, before that those who were then upon the guard could perceive whether they were Friends or Enemies, they fell upon them, cut off those that made any resistance, and having forced the rest to fly, set open the gate for Oristhenes. Yet could not this be done with so little noise, but that those who were upon the walls, though but few, and those not much minding what was done, did, assoon as it was light, discover the forces of Oristhenes, and accordingly give the alarm; but, before it could come to the place where Tiribasus was, Oristhenes was gotten into the City, his troops coming in still like waves, and meeting with nothing that any way opposed them. He brought in along with him three thousand horse, and about seven or eight thousand foot, all choice men, and such as were ready to sacrifice their lives for the just cause wherein they were engaged. Oristhenes' used all the expedition he could to get in his forces, which he disposed into the more spacious streets and other large places that lie near that gate, and when he saw that the greatest part were come in, and that the rest would follow without any hindrance, he advanced towards the palace, putting all to the sword that he met with in arms. He caused it to be cried wherever he came that the Citizens should lay down their arms, and that no violence should be done to those that would not fight for Tiribasus. It were impossible for me to represent to you what a distraction Tiribasus was in, when word was brought of that misfortune, and what imprecations he made against heaven, when he perceived himself surprised by those very enemies, whom not long before he had slighted for their weakness: and yet he withal saw that he had but little time to lose in consultation, and that in tead of carrying on the assault against the Palace, he must make head against Cris●henes and fight him.  
He accordingly resolved to do it, and thereupon, rallying all the forces he had about him, and giving order that his horse should mount, he mounted also himself, and leaving a small number before the Palace to keep us in play, he took all the rest along with him to engage with Oristhenes. I had understood by a signal from Clinias that the supplies were come, and easily imagined what might have followed, insomuch, that, finding that I might either freely sally out, or at the worst meet with such opposition as I might well overcome, I thought it not fit to fight any longer behind dead walls; and so leaving twelve hundred men to make good the Palace, though a less number might have served to do it. I commanded out all the rest, and getting up of a good horse, whereof I ●ound no small number about the Palace, and which I disposed among the most considerable of those that were about me, I caused the great gate of the Palace to be opened, and drew out into a spacious place not far from it. Those that endeavoured to oppose our passage were ●nmediately cut in pieces, and the rest, running away, made all the haste they could to Tiribasus.  
I was no sooner got into the City, but I caused it to be proclaimed every where, as Oristhenes had done before, that the Queen pardoned the Citizens, provided they laid down their arms, and this, running from one to another, proved so effectual, that the greatest part of the inhabitants took occasion to go home to their own houses, by which means Tiribasus' party became much weaker than it had been. However, the number he had about him was far greater than that of our forces; but he could not make any advantage of their number in the streets, where the engagement was not the same as it would have been in an open field. Tiribasus was already engaged with Oristhenes, and upon the first encounter there was abundance of blood spilt on both sides. As I was marching towards the place where I thought to have found them, I met with Asanor in my way, in the head of a party which he was carrying to the relief of Tiribasus. I immediately charged him, and it happening that we met in a spacious place, the engagement proved accordingly very hot and bloody. The success also for some time was very doubtful, but at last victory declared herself for the juster cause, and, Asanor being killed, with the most considerable of those that were about him, the rest ran away in disorder towards the place where Tiribasus was fight against Oristhenes, and certainly there it was, that blood and blows were not spared, and that we had by much the worst end of the staff. Tiribasus sighting with his men like one that had all at the stake, had charged Oristhenes with such fury, that the bravest of his men lay upon the ground, and he himself, being unhorsed, disputed the business on foot with little hope of victory, nay, it would have been long ere he had lost his life, had not some of the best affected and stoutest of his men set themselves before him, and relieved him with much eagerness. Tiribasus, making all the advantage he could of that overture of victory, forced his enemies to retreat, fight them still even into the spacious place of Marrow. There it was that he thought to give them an absolute defeat, by reason of the advantage of the place, and the distraction they were already in, when I, coming to their relief another way, which I found free, got up to that place with my Troop, and immediately crying out, Candace, Candace, and those that followed me, Cleemedon, we revived those that were ready to quit the field, and abated their confidence, who expected nothing less than victory. The presence of the two chiefs added very much to the bloodiness of the engagement, which was upon my coming reassumed, and, having sent some of my men to relieve Oristhenes, whose danger I had understood, I endeavoured to meet with Tiribasus, as knowing that in his person consisted all the war. I took notice of the place where he was, and be immediately knew me. I am easily persuaded that it was not his desire to avoid fight, being, by the acknowledgement of all, a man valiant enough, and no less concerned in my death than I could be in his: but the most devoted to his interests that were about him, setting themselves before him, many were laid on the ground that I was forced to dispatch to come up to his person. At last we came together, notwithstanding the opposition of our men, and running at him full of fury; The day is now come, Tyrant, said he to him, that thou must render up the Crown with thy own life into the bargain. He made me some answer, which I could not hear by reason of the noise, and the heat I was then in, and received with me a resolution not much different from what I brought. But, being ever and anon hindered by our men, who came in between us, and that especially by his, who fell upon me on all sides, I grew the more eager to determine the difference; and that was it had almost cost me my life. I had made two blows at Tiribasus, with such good fortune, that they gave two wounds, whereupon he began to look on me as one that sought with a certain confidence of victory, when my horse, by reason of many hurts he had received, sell down so of a sudden, that I had much ado to get my feet out of the stirrups, and to stand before Tiribasus, who taking me at that advantage, was upon the point of running over me, I could not avoid the shock of his horse, in somuch that he had almost overthrown me, but in that posture leaning on my own horse that lay dead between my legs, with my left hand, I, with my right, thrust my sword into the belly of his, so that when he was coming at me, he felt him falling down under him. In that interim I closed with him, to avoid the shock of his men, and in that disorder finding a place unarmed, I run him with my sword through the body.  
Tiribasus stretched forth his arms as he was falling with his horse, but, in regard that I stood near him, he very furiously cast himself on me, and by his weight forcing me to the ground, he fell upon me, as he breathed out his last, and fastened on me in such a manner, that I found it no small difficulty to get from under him, all gored and covered with his blood. The danger I was in by reason of that disadvantage, had been very great, had I not been relieved by divers stout men▪ who rescued me from the rage of Tiribasus' friends, and, notwithstanding all they could do, got me on horseback again. This, Madam, was the fate of Tiribasus, the usurper of your Dominions, and your precious Liberty, and you may see in it how that the just gods decreed he should perish by his hands, to whom, of all men, that revenge was most due.  
Upon his death, those that were of his party were so lost, as to courage and resolution, that the most eager in the cause could hardly be gotten to fight much longer. When I saw the resistance they made was very weak, and that some were running away in the streets, casting away their arms, I considered, Madam, that they were your subjects, and thereupon, out of a desire to spare their blood, I cried, and caused it to be cried up and down, that if they laid down their arms, the Queen would give them their lives, & would forgive all that was passed. Some particular friends of Tiribasus would not accept of this proffer, but would needs be killed, and, among the rest, Eurinoe's Brother, whose life I would gladly have saved for his Sister's sake; but all the rest, perceiving there was no safety but by that means, and having, for the most part, sided with Tiribasus, purely out of fear, laid down their arms, and cried up and down, God save Queen Candace. I immediately thereupon sent orders every where, that none should be put to the sword; and it was so religiously observed, that after some few minutes, there was no more blood spilt. All those of Tiribasus' party went in among the Citizens, who had laid down their arms as soon as I was gotten out of the Palace: and our men, though in arms and victorious, began to treat the others as their Countrymen and companions. Oristhenes, who, having been set on horseback again by the relief which I had sent him, had joined with me, and behaved himself with abundance of valour, rid all about the City by my order, and so appeased the remainders of the disorder, that when the dead bodies were removed out of the streets, it could hardly be imagined there had been any fight.  
All things being thus composed, I sent out orders, that the more considerable of those that had followed Tiribasus, as well Citizens as soldiers, should come to me in one of the most spacious places in the City, and, after I had entertained them with a discourse (which it were not fit to trouble you with a recital of) wherein, having in, the first place, represented to them the greatness of their crime, I made them, in the next, apprehensive of that of your goodness, who were graciously pleased, even at a time that they might be punished with severity, to pardon them so horrid an infidelity, and forget all that was passed; provided that for the future they did those things which were expected from them. And that I exhorted them to do with a true remorse, and to repair their crime, by a fidelity as remarkable as their defection had been. All the inhabitants answered me with cries and tears, and, pronouncing your name on their knees, they called all the gods to witness the sincerity of their intentions, and protested they had done nothing against you, but by force, and out of the fear they were in of the power of Tiribasus. The souldery, for the most part, returned me the same answer, so that after I had taken a new oath of allegiance from them all in your name, I dismissed the Assembly, permitting all to follow their occasions, and such as had friends dead, to bury them. I also gave way, that those that pretended a more particular affection to Tiribasus, should take away his body in order to an honourable enterrement, as knowing, Madam, your generosity to be such, as permits not your resentments to go beyond death. And thereupon, having my thoughts wholly taken up with you, and yet not thinking it safe to leave Meroe that very day, for fear of the accidents that might happen upon so sudden a revolution, I sent Clinias Express to you, to give you an account of all that had passed, and to entreat you to remain at Bassa till the next day, at which time I should have waited on you, bringing along with me your people of Marrow, who were infinitely desirous of your return.  
Having gone so far, I spent all the rest of the day, and some part of the night in pacifying and composing all things, and, considering the shortness of the time, there was such order taken, that it was hardly perceivable that there had been any revolt in Ethiopia. But what grief it was to me, what distraction I was in, the gods only know, the next day, when I found Clinias returned, telling me, that you had been expected to no purpose at Bassa, whither you came not at all, and where there had not been any thing heard of you. Being extremely troubled at this account of you, I immediately left Meroe, having only stayed so long as to leave orders with Oristhenes to take care of all things t●ll your return; and taking certain boats, and such a number along with me, as I thought fit, of those I could best trust, I made all the hast I could to Bassa. There I soon met with the cruel confirmation of you loss, and understood from those that you had left to command there in you absence, that they had neither seen nor heard any thing of you. These unfortunate tidings raising the greatest distraction imaginable in my thoughts, put me to such extremities, as I had never been acquainted with before; and the violence of my affliction taking away for some time the use of my reason, I had much ado to forbear revenging myself upon such as had contributed nothing to the misfortune. I did nothing the rest of that day, and all the next night, but wander up and down upon the Nile, while thousands of persons were searching in other places to the same purpose.  
But all proving ineffectual, I thought it my best course to return to Meroe, out of a conceit, that, without all question, you had been taken by some persons that Tiribasus had sent after you, and that, by securing those that were yet there, of the friends of Tiribasus, something might be discovered, when there comes to Bassa an Egyptian Merchant ship, by which I understood, that as they sailed up the Nile, they had met with the Pirate Zenodorus, with four ships, and had escaped being taken by him, by making to land, which they were not far from, and that they had passed so close to him, by reason of the narrowness of the River in that place above any other, that they could easily perceive there were some Lady's prisoners in his Vessel, whereof they had seen some upon the deck, and heard the cries of others echoing all over the River, and that afterwards, coming further into the River, after the Pirate was gone by, they met with abundance of earkases floating, and found all the circumstances of a great and bloody engagement. From this discourse, which the passion I was then distracted by easily induced me to believe, I immedately inferred all circumstances considered, that it must needs be you, Mad. that was fallen into the hands of the famous Pirate Zenodorus, whose name was grown dreadful in all these coasts, and who was the best acquainted of any therewith, by reason of the perpetual inroads that he made upon them. You may easily imagine, Madam, that it were impossible for me to make you sensible of the grief it was to me to hear these fatal tidings, and that all I am able to say will come very far short of what I then felt upon the first entertainment of that cruel account of our malicious Fortune. This was it that put me out of all patience, and in a manner took away the use of my reason, insomuch, that the gods may well pardon me, if, during the time that that extravagance lasted, I did not always observe that respect which a man should never be guilty of any breach of towards them. Nay, methought the rage I was then possessed by, was in some sort excusable, and that misfortune, happening at a time when I expected all the kindness and indulgence of fortune, seemed to me so great, that I could not imagine it supportable by the greatest constancy in the World. Nevertheless, thinking it too great a lowness of spirit to loose time in lamentations and fruitless complaints, I sent Clinias back again to Meroe, with orders directed to Oristhenes, to hearken out every where after you, in case the tidings I had received of you should prove false, and to secure the most intimate friends of Tiribasus, to find out, by that means, whether you had been taken by any orders of his, and, having given him that charge, I took up three vessels that lay in the haven ready to set sail, accompanied by all those I had about me, that I thought able to fight, and made all the speed I could towards the mouth of the Nile, into the Mediterranean Sea. I thought it no such difficulty to make after Zenodorus though with a number of vessels, much inferior to his, and, no doubt, less serviceable as to matter of engagement, and all the fear I was in, was, that I should not find him, so far was I from any thoughts of being worsted, if I were so fortunate as to meet with him.  
We got out of the Nile, and were entered into the Sea, being absolutely to seek what course we should take; but, having understood that Zenodorus came often to Peleusia, and the ports adjoining to Alexandria, to sell some part of what he took upon those coasts, I imagined I might there hear of him, and so thought fit to make towards Alexandria. I shall not, Madam, trouble you with the complaints I made during the time of this sad course, nor the doleful reflections which tormented my thoughts without the least intermission. I was sensible, as indeed I ought to have been, of a misfortune that deprived me of the happiness of your presence; but this was not yet the greatest of my afflictions, and when I imagined to myself, that my fairest Queen was in the hands of a merciless Pirate, and represented to myself all the dangers whereto she might be exposed, (and to which, as I have since understood from Eteocles, it was but indeed too too true that she was) I was at a loss of all patience, insomuch that I could hardly forbear casting myself into the sea. At last, we were entertained by the same tempest which proved so favourable to you against the insolences of Zenodorus, and which hath been the occasion of so many accidents upon these coasts at the same time; and this also grew so implacable to us, that our vessels were dispersed, in such manner, that I could never yet learn any tidings of the other two, and know not but that they are long since devoured by the waves: and that wherein I I was in myself, after we had, for two whole days struggled with the same cruelty of weather, that you had met with, was at length cast upon this coast within a hundred Stadia of this City, so shattered, that it was absolutely unfit for the sea. I left some part of my men to get the vessel repaired, as at Alexandria they might with all freedom do, there being free commerce between the Ethiopians and the Egyptians, leaving orders with them that they should expect to hear from me in the port of Alexandria, and that they should make enquiry every where after the Pirate Zenodoras'. And so, taking only twelve along with me, proportionably to the number of horses that we had in the vessel, we all mounted, and having, for some time rid all together along the shore, I thought it not amiss that we divided into parties, it being the more likely way to find out what we sought, and thereupon showing them a little village which I knew, and whereof I gave them the name, I entreated them, that, after they had visited all the places about Alexandria they would all meet there at night.  
This was done as it had been resolved, and for my part I would have no more in my in company but only one Esquire, by reason of the aversion, which, through melancholy, I had for all company. All that day was spent in a fruitless search, and at night meeting at the rendezvous appointed, we there passed it over, wanting nothing as to the accommodation of the body, if the mind could have taken any rest. The next day, I named to them another small town distant from this place about two hundred Stadia, where was appointed the meeting for the night following, and so dividing into several parties, as the the day before, directing them to take other courses than they had done, went myself as before, attended only by a single person in the quality of Esquire.  
I had wandered up and down for some part of the day, when finding myself sweltered with heat, and the weight of my Armour, which I had not put off all this time, I would needs take a minute's rest, and refresh myself at a spring that lay in my way in the midst of a very pleasant valley. With this resolution I alighted at a certain distance from the spring, and▪ having given my horse to the Esquire, I sat down by it, and putting up the visor of my head-piece, I drunk of the water, and lay down on the grass, where no doubt I had taken some little rest, had my grief been so supportable as to afford me such an interval. I had not been there many minutes, when there comes to the place where I was, a man accountred much after the same rate that I was, and, as I conceive, with the same intentation. His arms were very sumptuous, and he was of a goodly presence: but I thought him quite another man, when he had put up the visor of his helmet, as I had, and that, casting my eyes on his face, I found he had the best countenance in the world? We saluted one another very respectfully, though that in his face, as well as mine, were visible the characters of a more than ordinary sadness. After he had quenched his thirst, which it seems had forced him thither, he began to look more earnestly on me, and he had no sooner cast his eye on my face but he thought he should know me. His behaviour obliging me to look on him with the like earnestness, methought the lineaments of his face were not strange to me, and, notwithstanding the alteration which seven or eight years might have wrought therein, I presently was persuaded I had seen him somewhere before.  
We looked thus one upon the other, with some suspense on both sides, when he, first discovering himself, and speaking to me with an accent which I was not unacquainted with; I know not, said he to me, whether you would find Britomarus in my countenance as I would do Cleomedon in yours. There needed no more than these words to put me out of all doubt, that it was no other than the same audacious Britomarus, with whom, while we were yet both very young, I had had that great falling out in Ethiopia, and whose valour and generosity I had so much admired. And though I should have gladly concealed myself from any other person, yet could I not imagine it pardonable in me to do it from Britomarus, after I had reflected on those things that had passed between us, and thereupon making him an answer suitably to his manner of speaking to me; You are very much in the right, said he to him; I am Cleomedon, and though it is with much ado that I called you to mind, yet now I am absolutely satisfied that you are Britomarus. 'Tis very true, I am Britomarus, replied he, and I must tell you moreover, that I am Artaban. Under this latter name I am much more known among men then under the former; under that name I have gained some battles, conquered Kingdoms for ungrateful Kings, and have done those actions, which have haply raised me to that rank whereto I told you at our last parting, I was in hopes to raise myself. I have measured my sword with Kings, who have not thought it any dishonour to themselves; I have raised some of them, I have pulled down others, and I have not met with any greater than myself, till the chance of war had dicided the controversy.  
There needed no more than the word Artaban, to satisfy me as to some part of those things which he told me, the reputation of Artaban being so much spread all over the world, that few were ignorant of the great actions he had done. On the other side, by reason of the acquaintance there had been between me and Britomarus, I was easily persuaded that he was Artaban, as finding in him all things extremely conformable to what I had known in the other. I harkened to his violent discourse with much patience, to see what would be the issue of it, when he proceeding; I do not, said he to him, tell you these things of myself, Cleomedon to derive any vain reputation thence, but to give you occasion to remember that, when I was affronted by you, and forced to quit the service of Candace for your sake, I told you, as we parted, that a day might haply come, wherein I should be in a condition once more to measure a weapon with you. Not but that the cause of that resentment of mine hath long since been taken away, and that the addresses which were slighted by Candace, have been entertained by a Princess who is not inferior either to Candace or any other Princess in the world; not also but that I am satisfied that the aversion which I have ever naturally had for you, is unreasonable, since your excellent endowments ought in all justice to gain you the esteem of all the world. On the other side, it is not unlikely, but that there may be some occasion, nay haply necessity, that both of us should employ our arms elsewhere, and upon that consideration I shall not oblige you to turn yours against me: but you will be pleased to remember, when we shall meet with a more favourable opportunity, that Britomarus is arrived to that condition which he said he should come to, and dares measure a sword not only with Cleomedon, but with all the Princes upon earth.  
This fiery discourse of Artaban's, though it raised in me a certain esteem for the person, yet was I not a little incensed at, and my thoughts being easily put into disorder by reason of the affliction I was in, there needed but a small matter to put me out of all patience. Not but that I was extremely troubled at this adventure, as such as obliged me to a fruitless engagement, in a time which I was to employ in finding out other enemies; but there being no grief so great as to smother the Love of glory, I thought, that, the discourse, which Britomarus hadmade, well considered I could not with honour avoid fight, though he had left it to my choice. Upon this reflection looking on him with an eye, which easily discovered how much I was moved at what he had said; Artaban, said I to him, I am very ready to believe of you all that you say of yourself, as also all that Fame hath spread abroad concerning you, and am withal satisfied, that the cause of your resentments hath been taken away by change of your affections; but, it seems, though there be no quarrel between us out of any consideration of jealousy, I am yet to be accountable for your aversion, and though there want not haply other occasions of far greater consequence than the motives of our differences that call me elsewhere, yet will I be obliged for my liberty to prosecute them, to myself and not to your civility. Let us not remit, to another time and other opportunities, what we may determine in this. It is possible we may not meet with another so favourable, and we were both equally unblamable if we should now part and avoid and engagement that is now become necessary, and for which it seems you come so well prepared.  
With these words I rose up from the place where I lay, and after I had put on and fastened my head-piece, and taken my buckler from my Esquire, I got up on horseback▪ and rid forth into the most delightful part of the plain. Artaban was not a person to be expected, he had his foot in the stirrup assoon as myself, and being immediately, come up to me, he easily discovered by all his deportment, that he was the person Fame published him to be. The first onset proved very furious, and the indignation I was in to think that he should continue an unjust aversion during so many years for a displeasure I had innocentdone him, and for which I had made such satisfaction, caused me to fight with no less animosity against him, than I had done some few days before against Tiribasus. The first blows that were dealt on both sides were hearty and heavy enough; but being both very well skilled in the use of the Buckler, there were a many exchanged ere there was any wound received on either side. At last being more and more exasperated by this trial of our strength, we engaged one another with less circumspection, insomuch that both his armour and mine began to be died with the blood. which our swords drew out of our bodies. That spectacle heightening our courage added also to our animosity, and no doubt but that the end of the combat would have proved fatal to one of us, nay it may be to both, by reason of the great equality of our force, when a certain man on horseback riding at a small distance from us, and making a sudden halt, stayed for some little time to look on us. For my part, I could see nothing in the man that might divert me from minding what I was then about: but Artaban had no sooner cast his eye on him, but he gives a great shout, and at the same time, gave me such a blow over the head that I was for some minutes stunned with it. However, I made a shift to recover and that immediately, and was thinking to drive towards him, when, looking about, I perceived him at a great distance from me, riding with all the speed his horse could make, after the man we had seen, and pursuing him so closely, that it was not long ere a turning that was in the plain, deprived me of the sight of him. This accident put me very much to a loss, as being too well acquainted with the valour of my Adversary, to imagine that it was out of any motive of fear that he avoided fight. No, I was far from conceiving any such thing of him, as knowing him to be as gallant and as stout a man as ever drew sword: but being already exasperated by the sight of my blood sliding down along my Armour, I would needs run after him, either to decide our quarrel, or know of him the reason why he had left me in the midst of it.  
Whereupon observing the way he had taken, I followed the tract of his horse, with all the speed I could make, and with a small time came into a place where I found him engaged in a combat with another man that seemed to be no less valiant than himself. But, my greatest Queen, I shall say no more as to what passed then, because you were yourself present and saw all, having Eteocles with you and another valiant person, who made it his business to part us, There it was that I had the happiness to see you like a flash of lightning, and just at the minute that I began to feel the first motions of joy for that adventure, I saw you carried away, once more, by the man whom Artaban had pursued, who was returned thither with his companions, and was the Pirate Zenodorus, as I have understood since by Eteocles.  
The fair Queen, who had been present at that action, and had observed all till she was carried away, was so well acquainted with all passages, that he might well forbear all further account thereof, Whereupon the Prince related to her, how that he had followed her so long, till at last, through the great loss of blood, and the weakness he was reduced to, by reason of his wounds he fell of his horse; how he had been relieved by Eteocles, and not long after by his own Brother, Prince Alexander, and the Princess Artemisa. He afterwards entertained her with an account how they had brought him to the house where they had taken sanctuary themselves; how that some few days after, when he had in some measure recovered his health, he had been acquainted with the History of their loves, and yet, though he had not the least mistrust of their virtue, and friendship, that he thought it not fit at that time to discover himself to them, as not knowing whether she might take it well at his hands.  
He afterwards acquainted her with the arrival of the Princess Cleopatra, and her being in that house, to whom also he had not discovered himself, and how that the next day she had been carried away again with Artemisa. Caesario aggravated to the Queen the affliction he conceived at that misfortune, as being not in a capacity to afford his Sister the assistances he ought, and to go along with Alexander after those that had carried her away; yet told her withal, that it was his resolution to have done it, and that he would have put on his armour, if Alexander himself had not prevented him; and if Eteocles had not taken such order, that he could get neither arms nor horses for that day: that the next day towards the evening finding himself a little stronger, he got out of his bed with an intention at the same time to seek out both Candace and Cleopatra, and was got to one of the windows, whence, casting his eye upon the adjoining wood, he had seen a Chariot passing by, wherein he had perceived the Queen, with the fair Princess of the Parthians, whom he knew not, that upon that happy sight, joy taking its former place in his soul, friendship had submitted to love, and the loss of Cleopatra troubled him the less by reason of the recovery of Candace: That he would immediately have run after her, but not long after, Eteocles, coming into the room, and having communicated that good news to him, had entreated him to have a little patience, and to give him leave to run alone after the Chariot, to find out the truth of that adventure; That accordingly Eteocles got on horseback, and followed the tract of the Chariot, and those that conveyed it, into Alexandria, whither having got in undiscovered, he had informed himself so well of all things, that he understood how the Queen was in the Palace, with the Princess of the Parthians; that she had been rescued out of their hands that had carried her away by the Praetor Cornelius, and that she was attended with all manner of respect, though she had discovered herself only so far as that she was a Lady of great quality, born in Ethiopia; that these tidings restoring him, as it were, to a new life, had also restored him, in some measure, to his health and strength: and that, having that very day sent Eteocles into the City to speak with her, if he possibly, with any convenience, could; he returned some time after, with news, that he had seen her getting up into a Chariot, wherein she went out of the City, to take the air along the river side, and would come within a small distance of the house where he was; That, upon that news he was not able to keep in any longer, and that notwithstanding the reasons alleged by Eteocles, who would by all means have hindered him, he got on horseback, and rid forth into the wood, in hope of some opportunity to see her, out o● a confidence he should not meet with any one that knew him That it was, as he crossed the wood up and down upon that design, that he first heard certain out-cries, and afterwards saw the Princess Elisa in the hands of Tigranes; That, though he knew not who she was, he had done her that service which he ought her, and that he had not sorsaken her, had he not seen Artaban, and a company of men on horseback coming behind him; That being unwilling to be discovered by them, he withdrew; but that he had taken particular notice of Artaban, and that, looking on him as the most concerned in the relief of the Princess, he was very glad that he had done him that good office, as well out of a consideration of the satisfaction a man takes in doing what he is in honour obliged to, as out of a remembrance, that, in the engagement they had had together, against the Pirate Zenodorus, and his men, Artaban had relieved him, and helped him on horseback, after his own had been killed under him; That afterwards he had wandered up and down the wood, in hopes to see the Queen, but that, having observed some appearance of Agrippa and Cornelius, with their Troop, he would not by any means be met with by them, and thereupon retired till night, at which time, through the help of the darkness, he made a shift to get into the City, and, knowing what part of the Palace the Queen was lodged in, he, without any difficulty, sound her out, having once gotten upon the terrace, where he had met with Clitia.  
Thus did Cesario put a period to his relation, and when he had given over speaking, the Queen, looking on him with a countenance wherein her thoughts were in some measure legible; Caesario, said she to him, you have had your traverses and extremities, and we badours, which I shall not trouble you with any relation of, because you have understood them already from Eteocles. If I have suffered much for you, I must yet confess you have endured more for▪ me, besides, that by your attempts and valour, you have regained me a Kingdom, which I gave over for lost. It is but just it should be a present made to you, as it were, in some sort, to reward your care and conduct, and might it please the gods I had any thing to present you with, that were more considerable and more precious, that I might requite, as I ought to do, those so many noble demonstrations of your affection. Madam, replies Caesario, it is beyond the merits of my blood, nay, indeed, of my life, to deserve the expressions I receive of your favours and goodness, and I am very much ashamed to expect so many great things from my noblest Queen, when I am able to offer her nothing but a miserable wretch discarded and despailed of that which now makes up so many Monarchies and a ............  
'tis enough, says Candace, interrupting him, let me hear no more of that discourse, if you have not a set purpose to displease me, and take it for granted, that your person is of a value high enough to be preferred by the greatest Princesses in the Universe before that of the ●super, who is now possessed of your Father's Palace.  
Having by these words engaged him to silence, she fell upon some other discourse, wherein she discovered to him what trouble she was in for the danger whereto he exposed himself, by coming into Alexandria, where he must expect no less than death if he were once known; as also her displeasure to see him so careless of his health, as being not sufficiently recovered, (as might be seen in his countenance) to venture on horseback, and take such pains as he did. The Prince, after he had thanked her for the afflictions she was in for his sake, as being the pure effects of the tenderness she had for him; For the hazard whereto I expose myself, said he to her, it is not so great as you imagine it, and besides the difference there is between the face of a child of fourteen years of age, and that of a man of four and twenty, the report that is scattered up and down the world of my death hath taken such root, and is particularly so much credited by Augustus, that it were no small difficulty to persuade people to the contrary: and for my health, I find, that through the joy which the gods have been pleased to afford me, by meeting with you again, I have recovered my strength in such a measure, that within three or four days I shall be in as good plight and condition as ever I was, either to do any thing in point of arms, or to wait on you by sea into Ethiopia. Eteocles hath within these two dates found out our vessel, which the Ethiopians that had followed me have gotten, made fit for the sea again, and rides at anchor within a hundred stadia of Alexandria. Your faithful subjects that are aboard it, have understood, not without great transports of joy, that you were in this City, and expect your orders with that secrecy which Eteocles hath engaged them to. I shall be content to remain either with them, if you think it good, or in the house where I have already made some abode, and where, by the appointment of Alexander, I have hitherto been extremely well entertained, and at such hours as these you will give me leave to wait on you for some small time, till the day that you shall have resolved to depart hence. Alas! for matter of departure, says Candace to him, it shall be as soon as your recovery shall permit, besides that there are some other reasons best known to myself, which would force me to hasten my departure hence, were it not that the company of this fair Princess, which I cannot without an infinite affliction ever quit, doth prevail with me to wave all resolutions of that nature. It was but just, said Elisa to her, that you gave me that little comfort, after the cruel discourse you have entertained me with, and I shall be very much troubled to consent to your departure, if you do not take me along with you.  
These last words fell from her with a certain smile, whereupon the Queen looking with a more serious countenance; Fairest Princess, said she to her, you speak that in jest, which, with more reason, you might do after another manner: and were it the pleasure of the gods, and that I might hope so much from your friendship, as that, till such time as you are reconciled to the King your Father, or have settled yourself by other ways, you would make your residence in Ethiopia, you shall be there attended with so much respect and affection, that possibly it would be long ere you returned among the Parthians. Two hours since I could not have made you this proposition; but since that through the assistances of the gods, and the valour and conduct of Caesario, we have recovered the Kingdom of our Fathers, I shall never derive any advantage thence that can be more acceptable to me then that which I may receive by this goodness of yours.  
This discourse of Candace was accented with so much affection, that Elisa could not forbear embracing her, and kissing her many times together, giving her withal many thanks for this demonstration of her friendship, in terms wherein she fully expressed how extremely sensible she was thereof. At length, turning to Caesario, I should have feared, said she to him, that the difference there is between you and Artaban might have engaged you to employ the interest you have with the Queen, to oppose the sanctuary and entertainment she is pleased to proffer me, as knowing the inclinations he hath for me, and haply having understood the marks of a more than ordinary esteem which I have for him: but since you have been so fortunately generous, as to have done her, with joy, the greatest service she could have expected from the best of her friends, I cannot but hope, that, through the assistance of the Queen, who will make it very much her business to persuade you thereto, you will not be so exasperated against him, as to deny him your friendship, if he desires it of you, as he is obliged to do. Madam, replies Caesario, I can make an unfeigned protestation to you, that I never had any hatred against Artaban, and from the esteem I have ever made of his admirable endowments, it may easily be inferred, how extremely I was troubled to find in him so much aversion for me. Insomuch, that without engaging by this action, the Queen, or yourself, to a belief that it proceeds from the respect and compliance I have for your commands, I shall gladly embrace his friendship, and give him what assurances of mine you shall think fit.  
Elisa seemed to be extremely joyed at this discourse of Caesario's, whereupon the Queen, desirous to unite those two extraordinary persons by a friendship as great as that which was between herself and Elisa, knowing that Caesario had had some imperfect account of the great actions of Artaban, as also of the affection he had for Elisa, acquainted him in few words with what of most consequence he was yet ignorant of. Insomuch, that by that relation she gave him such a character of Artaban, that he looked upon him as the greatest and most generous of men, and representing to him the difference there is between those elevated souls in whom noble actions raise only an impression of esteem and respect, and those other reptile ones, wherein they produce envy and enmity, to desire with earnestness, the acquisition of his friendship.  
It is not to be doubted but that the sight of Caesario was an infinite satisfaction to Candace; and Caesario, on the other side, could gladly have spent whole ages in her company, and yet not be sensible of their length; but yet, besides the fear which upon his account Candace was perpetually in, the night was in a manner spent, and Caesario, thought it too great a presumption to delay any longer the repose of those two great Princesses. So that he was obliged to recommend them to their rest, having first obtained the Queens leave to wait on her the next night at the same hour, and promised, that he would entertain Artaban with all friendly embraces, if it should prove his fortune ever to meet him again. Assoon as he was gone, the two Princesses went to their beds, and by reason of the alteration that had happened that day in their fortunes, having dismissed those cruel disturbances which interrupted their repose, they fell into such a quiet sleep, that it was very late the next day ere they awoke.  
Thus was this night passed over by those many illustrious persons who were then at Alexandria, and the next day assoon as Olympia and Arsinoe had notice brought them, that Candace and Elisa were awake, they left their own lodgings with an intention to give them a visit, and to let Elisa understand how much they thought themselves concerned in what had happened to her the day before. They would by no means give way that Ariobarzanes and Philadelph should follow them, though it was no small torment to them to be out of their Mistress' presence so much as one minute, and indeed they were not over-earnest to do it at that time, knowing well, that by reason of the difference of sex they had not the same freedom with the others to visit Ladies before they were dressed. Besides Philadelph was a little troubled by what he had understood of the arrival of Tigranes, and the attempt he had made to carry away Elisa. And being withal a Kinsman and friend to the King of the Medes, and that it was by his assistance and that of Archelaus King of Cappadocia, that Tigranes had recovered his Kingdom, he knew not well, how he should behave himself towards Elisa, for whom he had already conceived abundance of respect, and for whom Arsinoe whose commands he was wholly to be guided by, had a very great affection. At last he resolved not to do any thing that Arsinoe might take amiss at his hands, or prejudice the respect he had for Elisa; but he thought he might safely go and see Tygranes, having understood that he was in Alexandria, and thereupon taking his leave of Ariobarzanes for some time, he went to give him a visit. And yet before he was gotten out of doors he called to mind the ancient enmity that was between the King of the Medes and the house of Armenia, though there had been a peace concluded between those two Crowns by the interest and Authority of Augustus, And accordingly, fearing that Ariobarzanes was still wedded to the quarrel wherein his house had been engaged, and consequently an enemy to Tygranes, he entreated him for his sake, to moderate the resentments there might be yet remaining in him as to that affair, and to do that Prince no ill office, if he did not by some deportment of his, oblige him thereto▪ Ariobarzanes, who was a person of an excellent good nature, promised Philadelph to be guided in all things by him, and seeing himself deprived of all the company by his departure, he went to see Agrippa whom he extremely honoured for his virtue, and whose friendship he was very desirous to preserve, that he might make use of it, either upon his own account or Philadelphs, against the implacable humour of Artaxus, whom he stood much in fear of.  
Tygranes had passed away the night in such fits of madness and exasperation, as had hardly allowed him the rest of some few minutes, and brought him into an humour, which made him unfit company for all in a manner, Philadelph only excepted. But as soon as he cast his eyes on that Prince he whom he had infinite love for, and whom he was obliged to for the recovery of his kingdom, all his melancholy and extravagant resentments vanished to make way for that excess of joy which filled him at a sight so little expected. He found it some difficulty to imagine to himself, that it was really Philadelph; but when the Prince had by his words and caresses, confirmed what his eyes durst not easily decide, the satisfaction it was to him proved an excellent remedy to alleviate his discontents, and, suffering himself to be absolutely▪ possessed thereby, his behaviour towards the Prince was such as could not proceed but from a violent and cordiallaffection.  
After the first compliments, ordinary upon the occasion of such an interview, were past, Tygranes asked Philadelph what strange adventure had brought him to Alexandria, and Philadelph, having made the same demand to the other, they reciprocally satisfied one the other; and entertained one another with an account of their last adventures, by means whereof they were come to Alexandria. Tigranes seemed to be very glad at the fortunate success of Philadelphs Love, though he could not but much wonder, that that fair Delia, of whom he had heard such strange things while they were in the wars together, was the same Arsinoe, that was reported to be dead long before with her Brother Ariobarzanes, and Sister to Artaxus their irreconcilable enemy. Philadelph told him that he had been no less astonished at it himself, and therefore doubted not but that the indeprecability of Artaxus and that of the King his own Father might yet put a many rubs in their way; but, all notwithstanding, he thought himself happy in having consecrated his life to the most amiable and most virtuous Princess upon earth, and that he expected no less from the friendship of Ariobarzanes, and the authority of Caesar then that all things should be so carried that both parties should comply to contribute to their good Fortune.  
After they had had some discourse of the affairs of Philadelph they spoke of those of Tigranes, and after that, that violent King had with a great deal of fury and fierceness disburdened himself of part of that which lay so heavy on his heart, and made thousands of complaints against Elisa, and disgorged thousands of menaces against Artaban and all those that were of his party, Philadelph took occasion to reassume the discourse with abundance of m●●dnesse in these terms, You do not doubt, said he to Tigranes, but that I am your friend, and as deeply engaged in your interests as any Prince whatsoever, either of your allies or neighbours. The expressions I have received thereof, are but too many, too great, and too important, replied Tigranes, not to raise in me a confidence of your Friendship. Since you are so much of that belief replies Philadelph, you will give me leave to tell you, that you yourself contribute most of any to your own misfortunes, and that the same Elisa for whose sake you have once already lost your kingdom, may prove the occasion of greater inconveniences to you. I must needs acknowledge the world affords not any thing comparable to her beauty, not any thing greater than the rank she is in among the Princesses of the earth, and that the Crown of the Parthians, whereof she is yet presumed to be the lawful heir, is, next to the Roman Empire, the greatest Monarchy in the world. But on the other side, you are to consider, that this Elisa shuns you, hates you, prefers before you a person whose revenues consist in his sword, and defies the indignation of her Father and her King, merely to satisfy the aversion she hath for you; so that you may well infer that there is little likelihood to reduce that which neither paternal authority, nor the hazards she hath hitherto been exposed to, have ineffectually attempted: And therefore, if you will take my advice, you will make this advantage of the disentertainment of your addresses, to banish out of your heart a pe●son that slights you, and one that, though she were within your power, will never have any affection for you while she lives, and consequently, must needs make you, by reason of the continual hostility which you must ever expect to struggle with in your own house, the most unfortunate Prince upon earth.  
On the other side, I have heard of some little engagement you were in towards Urania, during the time you took sanctuary with King Archelaus, her Brother, who may with very much reason be exasperated against you, if the things I have heard be true, and you must needs expect the reproaches of all the world, if by your irregular proceedings you disoblige a friend from whom you have received services of so great consequence.  
While Philadelph held him with this discourse, Tigranes harkened to it with much impatience, as desirous to interrupt him. But when he had given over speaking; I must needs acknowledge, said he to him, that there is abundance of reason in some of those things which you insist upon; but if you have had as much love for Delia as you have sometimes told me you had, I am to learn, how you can imagine it should be so easy for me to disengage my se●f from that which I have for Elisa, the influences of whose beauty are not so weak but that they may work their effect upon a man's heart while he lives. Besides, though my inclinations that way proceeded not out of any engagement of Love, and the interest of a Crown, such as is that of the Parthians, I am obliged to do what I do out of a consideration of honour; for I have married her by my Ambassadors, and the King her Father bestowed her himself upon those Ambassadors, that she might be brought into my embraces. So that I am to take in any part of the earth, wherever I meet with her, the woman that is my lawful wife, and by all manner of ways revenge the affront I have received, and I cannot imagine that Caesar, or any other Authority in the world, will oppose so justifiable a resolution. For Urania, you know the worst she can expect; it will be no prejudice to her to give place to Elisa and though what you have heard should prove true, she is no worse dealt with by me then she had been before by you.  
I hope you are not so far mistaken, replies Philadelph, as to imagine I ever promised Urania any thing, and that if I had, the Love I have for Arsinoe should not oblige me to deceive her. As for the revenge you speak of, and which you say you ought to endeavour, for the affront hath been done you. I know not on whom you should execute it, and if you take my opinion, I think it is only of Elisa that you have received that affront. I shall not revenge myself on Elisa, replied the King of the Medes, because, notwithstanding her ingratitude and insensibility towards me, she is yet dearer to me than my own life, and I could never attempt any thing against her, but it must wound me to the heart. But I will punish that audacious fellow whom she most shamefully prefers before me, and will chastise a person who, ris●n out of the dust, would needs raise himself above Kings, and who, not able to lift himself up into the rank whereof he now is, but by the favours that I have done him, and the employments I have put him into in my Armies, hath so insolently abused the fortune he crept into by my lenity, and treats Kings as his equals, if not as his inferiors.  
I am not acquainted with Artaban, requires Philadelph, though his great fame hath raised in me a great desire to be; but if I may measure him by the things I have heard related of him, I cannot look on him as a person that Kings should contemn. This you can testify more than any other, and consequently when I consider the things he hath done as wel● for you, as for the King of the Parthians, it cannot enter into my imagination that you will find it so easy a matter to punish him as you conceive.  
Philadelph would have said more to that purpose, as being not able to forbear giving that acknowledgement of Artabans' virtue which all the world confessed to be its due; but observing in the countenance of Tigranes, that he was not well pleased with discourses of that nature, he thought fit not to continue it, and not long after falling into some other talk, for some time, they went together to give a visit to Agrippa. Tigranes made some difficulty to go, by reason of the hindrance he had done him in his design the day before; but considering withal that, by reason of the interest he had with Caesar, the success of his affairs depended partly on him, he went along; Philadelph having before hand made him promise, that he would not discover any satisfaction towards Ariobarzanes, who was no Enemy of his, and had made the same promise as to him.  
Agrippa entertained all these Princes with much civility, and being a man that derived no pride from the greatness of his fortune, because it was indeed below his Virtue, he treated them with all the honour due to their dignity. And knowing that in Alexandria they had not all things suitably to their rank and attendance, they were wont to have, especially Ariobarzanes and Philadelph, who had not any retinue at all, he invited them to dine with him, excusing himself for being so free with them, out of a respect of their present condition i● Alexandria, which was such, that they could not have those accommodations at their own lodgings, which they might with him. Ariobarzanes and Philadelph were persuaded to stay; but Tigranes would needs dine with Cornelius, who had sent him an invitation to that purpose in the morning. At this first interview between Ariobarzanes and him, they saluted one another as persons that were not acquainted, without any expression of discontent or animosity of either side, which was all that Philadelph desired.  
In the mean time Arsinoe and Olympia were gone to visit Elisa and Candace, whom they took just getting out of bed, and as soon as Olympia was gotten near Elisa, putting on, yet with a cheerful look, the countenance of a slave; What, Madam, said she to her, have you no employment now for your slave, and will you suffer yourself to be dressed, and receive the services of those that are about you, and slight mine? Elisa blushing at this discourse, after she had kissed Arsinoe and Olympia; I cannot blame you, Madam, said she to her, for reproaching me with the faults, which, through my ignorance, I have committed against you; and to be ingenious, I must confess they are such, that if you are not in some measure guilty of them yourself, I shall be ashamed of them as long as I live.  
This discourse had been continued somewhat longer, if the fair Arsinoe had not interrupted it, to let Elisa know, how much she thought herself concerned in what had happened to her, as well upon her meeting with Artaban, and with Tigranes, assuring her, that she was no less troubled for any misfortune, might come to her, than those persons that had been of her acquaintance many years together. The discourse of Olympia was much to the same effect, and that in terms full of affection; and when Elisa had returned them thanks, clothed in the best expressions she could, For your part, Madam, added she, speaking to Olympia, you have done nothing upon this occasion, but what I might justly have expected from the friendship we have mutually promised one another: but for yours, Madam, said she, directing her speech to Arsinoe, I must needs acknowledge myself infinitely obliged to you, for adhering to my interests, against your own Friends, or, at least, if I may be pardoned that freedom, against those of Philadelph. For I cannot imagine you are ignorant, that Philadelph, is both a Kinsman and Friend to Tigranes, and that it was Philadelph himself that raised him into that Throne, out of which Artaban had pulled him down.  
Since you oblige me to answer for Philadelph, replies Arsinoe, smiling, and blushing at the same time, I shall tell you, that haply he did but his duty when he relieved his Friend and Kinsman against those that had dispossessed him of his dominions; but if he place my concernment in the loss or enjoyment of my person, I shall accordingly hope, that those of our house will be as dear to him, as any related to that of Tigranes, who hath ever been an Enemy thereto. And for our own particular, I am to tell you, that there is such a constancy in the inclinations we both have to honour you, that I dare assure you that we shall ever be of the same party. Besides, I am further to let you know, that both my Brother and he, though they never saw Artaban, are so strangely fallen in love with the noble fame he hath acquired, and the account hath been given them of his person, that it will be a kind of miracle that ever they should oppose him in any thing. Some considerations of no small consequence have obliged them to forbear visiting him this morning; but they hope, that ere this day be over, they shall find out some means or other to see him: and if you will pardon me the acknowledgement of my own curiosity, I must confess, that I desire it no less myself, and that I cannot make any representation of him to myself but as a very extraordinary person. When you shall have seen him, added Candace, your conviction will be much greater than your confidence is now, and you will find, that, though Fame be extremely liberal of her good word and character of him, all comes short of the truth, and in this discourse which I make of him, I am the more to be credited, the less I am obliged to be his friend, and that, for some little infidelity he hath been guilty of towards me, I were sufficiently dispensed from speaking so much to his advantage.  
This last expression falling from her with a smile, and that observed by Elisa, on whom she looked at the same time; I did not imagine, replied Elisa, that you had been acquainted with Artaban, and much less that you could have charged him with any infidelity: but I have this only to say by way of excuse for him, that if he had been guilty of it towards any other person than yourself, whose attractions are so great, as to confine the most inconstant minds till death dissolve them, I think I should pardon such a defection out of a consideration of the noble cause of his change, and that I should not call that man inconstant that should forget all things to sacrifice himself to the fair Princess of the Parthians. You would take that for good satisfaction, says Candace to her, if he had forsaken you to serve her? I know not what I should do in that case, replied Arsinoe, smiling, but am satisfied, that I ought to do it, if I were but any thing rational. I do not place so much felicity in revenge, replies the Queen of Aethiopia, as to wish that Philadelph should prove inconstant; but I would with all my heart that Artaban, in whom you are not so much concerned, had seen you, had loved you, and had forsaken you, to court Elisa, and it would be no small happiness to me to have so fair a companion in this disgrace.  
Arsinoe was going to make her some reply, when Olympia takes occasion to break of the discourse; out of a desire to be more particularly informed of the adventure that had happened the day before; as having before had but an imperfect relation thereof. Elisa entertained them with an account of it; but, being unwilling to bring in any thing into those adventures relating to the History of Candace, which they had not been acquainted with, as they had with her own, she said nothing of the discourses that had passed between her and Artaban, and did not discover any thing whence they might imagine that Artaban was Britomarus. These two Princesses were, by this relation, confirmed in the great opinion they had conceived of him, and acknowledged that such a man, though without Crowns, was to be preferred before those that wore the richest in the World.  
Whe●● the Princesses were quite dressed, word was brought them, that dinner stayed for them, and though Elisa doubted not but that she should see Artaban that afternoon, as she had promised him, yet out of a conceit that she should not any time that day, have the freedom to see him alone, she thought fit to entreat the two Princesses to dine with them, which proposition they complied with, when they had understood by a messenger that came from Ariobarzanes to the Princess his Sister, that Philadelph and himself were invited to Agrippa's.  
Assoon as they had dined, they immediately returned into Elisa's chamber, whither they were hardly all gotten, but Cephisa came and acquainted the Princess, that Artaban, was at the door desirous to wait on her. She, with a certain agitation which she was not able to conceal, gave order he should come in, so that at the name of Artaban, Arsinoe, and Olympia prepared themselves for a sight which they had long been infinitely desirous to see. Artaban was immediately admitted, and came in with that attractive countenance, and majestic deportment, which raised in all those that saw him, respect and admiration. Olympia was astonished at it, as finding somewhat beyond all she could have imagined of him, and would needs turn to Arsinoe, as it were to read her thoughts of him in her countenance, when she observed in it, more of astonishment and surprise than she had thought to find there. Accordingly, Artaban; having in the first place very submissively saluted Elisa and Candace, had no sooner turned himself towards Olympia and Arsinoe, to do them the same civility, but the Armenian Princess met with, in his countenance, that of Britomarus, the same Britomarus that had courted her with a very violent affection, in the King her Father's Court, that Britomarus, whom, for his over-confidence, she had slighted, though she infinitely esteemed him for his great worth, and who, not long before, had in Cyprus, protected her against the violences of Antigenes, and restored her into the hands of Ariobarzanes after he had delivered him out of the chains of the Pirates, as she had related to Philadelph two days before. These last obligations put upon them by Britomarus were of such consequence, that in a mind, such as was that of Arsinoe, they could have produced no less than an acknowledgement equal thereto, and when that in the person of that great Artaban, whom she looked on as a man, whose sword decided the fates of Empires, she found that of Britomarus, to whom she ought to honour, and her brother's liberty, she could not avoid being seized by a violent surprise, yet such, withal, as was delightful, and brought with it n● less satisfaction than astonishment. Nor indeed either could she, or would she, dissemble it, and thereupon coming up to him with such a confidence as she might have expressed towards a most affectionate brother: What, Britomarus, said she to him, are you then that great Artaban, whose fame fills the universe, and who, under that illustrious name of Artaban, are pleased to conceal from us that of Britomarus, to whom I stand engaged for my own honour, and my Brother's life.  
The other three Princesses could not but wonder very much at this discourse of Arsinoe; but indeed A●taban could do no less himself, as considering with himself, not without astonishment, how Fortune, in so small a space of time, should bring together, out of several Kingdoms that lay at a great distance one from another, the only three persons for whom he ever had conceived affection. The presence of Elisa, as things than stood, put him into some little disorder, and yet not willing to be thought insensible of the civility he had received from Arsinoe, for whom he had infinite respects, after he had saluted her with as much submission as he could have done, even when his affections were mo●t violent for her, Madam, said he to her, the same fortune, that makes Delia's and Arsinoe's, may also make Artaban's and Britomarus', and under both these names I continue towards the Princess Arsinoe ● respect, which nothing shall ever be able to make me forget.  
Elisa, during this discourse, being gotten close to Arsinoe: What, Madam, said she to her, it seems you are acquainted with Artaban? Since Britomarus is the same with Artaban, replies Arsinoe, I dare tell you, Madam, that I knew him before you, and shall further let you know, that I have much reason to be acquainted with him, since that, n●t to mention the addresses he sometime made to me in my own Country, even while he was yet very young, he hath, within a small time, by his admirable valour, and with the hazard of his life, preserved that which, amongst us, is counted most precious and delivered my brother out of the hands of the Pirates. What Sister, cries out Olympia, is it then to the great Artaban, that we are obliged for the safety of Ariobarzanes? It is so Sister, reply; Arsinoe, 'tis to him that we are ●biiged for him, and I believe, let him go which way he will, he shall every where meet with persons engaged to his fortunate valour, replied Artaban, you may reflect only on services which you might justly ●ave expected from all those persons, whom fortune had favoured with the same opportunities to do them; but if you call to mind that over-confidence, as you thought it, which you punished with so much severity and disdain, while I continued in Armenia, you will haply conceive yourself more obliged to my crime, than my services, and that I had presented you with a thing at that time, which night have made a greater impressa on in your memory, th●n that little relief, for which you are indebted only to my sword.  
These words made Arsinoe blush, and while she was considering what answer she should make, Candace not well affording her the time to do it; Ah Madam, said she to her, might it please the gods that the wish I made some minutes since may be accomplished, and that it were true that Britomarus were guilty of the same infidelity towards you, which you so much approved, or at least, thought so excusable by reason of the noble cause thereof. For matter of infidelity, replies Artaban, I am not guilty of any towards the fair Arsinoe, for she never n●cepted of my fidelity, nor entertained the respect I had for her with any obligation. But certain it is, Madam, that when I left you, I brought away this young heart, which was, upon my first inclination,, grown confident enough, and laid it at the feet of Arsinoe, and that, without all question, I had spent my whole life in that engagement, if the rigour of this Princess, and the pleasure of my destiny, reserving me for another vassalage, had not involved me in other chains, for which I should willingly for sake, with all it contains that is most excellent, the Empire of the whole World. But who can be confident, says Elisa to him, not with too much earnestness, that these last chains will not be broken as the former were, and what Beauty in the world can be secured against your inconstancy, since that of these two fair Princesses hath not been able to fix it? I am very confident, replies Artaban, that she, whose vassal I now particularly profess myself to be, is not in any fear I should break the chains I am in, and am far from thinking myself so happy, as to put her into any fear, which might raise me to a degree of felicity whereto I am not yet arrived. Might it please the gods I were on those terms with her, for I should find is no hard matter to persuade her, that I conceive my slavery too too glorious for me to imagine there is any need of fidelity to continue in it,  
These few words he thought sufficient as to that point, and Elisa was satisfied therewith, not insisting upon any further matter of justification to be convinced of a fidelity, which she had experienced in so many extraordinary demonstrations. Upon that account was it that she fell upon some other discourse, and so asked Artaban, by what miraculous means he had escaped out of the sea, into which she had seen him cast himself, and being satisfied for that day, she could not hope to have any private discourse with him, she entreated him to relate before those Princesses, by what strange ways he had escaped, and in what manner he had spent his life since their unexpected separation. Artaban was preparing himself to obey her commands, conceiving, as she did, that he must needs expect till some other, more favourable opportunity, to enter into private discourse with her, when there come into the room Agrippa, Philadelph, Ariobarzanes, Ovid, and some others, who had dined that day with Agrippa. Ariobarzanes and Philadelph, how impatient soever they might be to see their beloved Princesses, from whom, after so cruel an absence, they could hardly bear with one that took up some few minutes, found that desire, when they were come to the Princess of the Parthians lodgings, exchanged into another, viz. That of seeing Artaban whose great reputation had raised in them no less curiosity for his acquaintance then esteem for his person. Assoon as Philadelph saw him, he thought there had been something more than humane in his countenance and deportment; but Ariobarzanes had no sooner cast his eyes upon him, but, as Arsinoe had done before, finding Britomarus in the person of Artaban, he retreated some few paces with an action full of astonishment, and a little after coming up to him with his arms spread open, after he had craved the pardon of Elisa and Candace, for the freedom he took in their presence, he embraced with all the demonstrations of a perfect friendship, and, seconding his caresses with words full of affection; O ye just gods, said he, is it possible, that in this Artaban, who is so famous all over the World, I should find that Britomarus, who is so dear to me, and to whom both my Sister and myself are obliged for our honour, life and liberty? Ah! no question, it is the very same, added he a little after, & all things were so great & promising in Britomarus, that, from the first discoveries he made of himself, we could presume no less then that they would terminate in the glory of the great Artaban.  
Artaban, entertaining the caresses of that truly noble and amiable Prince with all manner of acknowledgement, and his expressions of him with abundance of modesty, answered him with the respect he had for those Princes that degenerated not from their dignity; and, knowing withal that Ariobarznes was yet more considerable for his actions then for his birth, as he had understood from the relation he had received of him after he had rescued him out of the hands of the Pirates, he looked on him with so much esteem, as he could possibly have for those whom their quality and rank make the most recommendable amongst men. Whereupon disengaging himself out of his embraces, My Lord, said he to him, your own vert●●e makes you set too great a value on their valour in whom you may have discovered some virtuous inclination, and the actions of Artaban are not so considerable as the miracles of Artamenes. Besides, both yourself, and the Princess your Sister conspire together to attribute to me the glory of an assistance you received not from me, since that it is not to be doubted, but you had yourself a greater hand than I had in the victory, which rescued you out of the hands of the Pirates.  
They had continued their discourses to this effect for some time longer, if Philadelph, perceiving by what Ariobarzanes had said, that Artaban was the same Britomarus who had rescued Del●a from the violences of Antigenes, and put to death that infamous Ravisher, and all his lewd companions, being almost out of patience to express his gratitude towards him, had not come up to him with as much earnestness as Ariobazanes had done before. And in that heat, not having the least memory of the interests of Tigranes, but looking on Artaban, as a person to whom he was obliged for what was of greater concernment to him then his life; And have not I, said he to him, as much reason as any man to offer myself up wholly to the service of the great Artaban, & can he have delivered Arsinoe out of the hands of her enemies, and not command the life of Philadelph. At that word Artaban, having taken notice of Philadelph, whose goodliness, as to his person, he had already observed, and whose life he had been acquainted with, both from the mouth of Arsinoe, and that of Fame itself, looked on him with more earnestness than he had done before, and, considering him as one that might justly be of that number of men, whom he thought worthy his respects and affection, he accordingly expressed himself with as much freedom to him, as he had done to Ariobarzanes. So that after he had received his caresses with the same civility, It had been very much more to my advantage, said he to him, that you had had these favourable sentiments towards me, when you were so earnest inrestoring my enemy to his throne, and in a condition to deprive me of all, both my hopes and my happiness; but what time or occasion soever you take to proffer it me, I must needs place abundance of glory and felicity in your friendship. When the King of Cappadocia, and myself, replies Philadelph, assisted Tigranes to recover his Kingdom, out of which you had forced him, we gave him an assistance, which, no doubt, we ought to have afforded our Friend and our Kinsman; but what advantages soever he might have made of your absence, he would have been but little the better for it, if that sword of Artabans, which commands Victory where ●r● it comes, had still been in the service o● the King of the Parthians. When that sword purchased me any Victory, replies Artaban, I had not to deal with such Enemies, as Philadelph, and if Tigranes had followed your noble examples, he had never fallen into those misfortunes, out of which you have since delivered him.  
Philadelp replied to this discourse with much modesty, and they had continued it somewhat longer, if Agrippa and the rest of the company had not interrupted it, all looking one upon the other with a certain esteem and veneration. And certainly the persons that were then met, were such, that whether sex were looked upon, there was still matter of esteem and admiration, it being likely to prove a hard matter to find in any other part of the world, a like number of persons to whom nature had been so liberal of her advantages.  
When they were all sat, they fell into very pleasant discourse, but it was not free from some reservedness, and, unless it were Ovid, and some others that came along with Agrippa, there was not any one in that noble Assembly that was not rather desirous of private discourse with some particular person present, than a general conversation. Ariobarzanes and Philadelp could have wished they had been where they might with freedom speak to their Princesses, yet were not they the most disturbed of any, and whereas their fortunes were in a more settled condition than those of any of the rest, they accordingly with the more patience endured that little abatement of their satisfaction. Artaban, who had not had any discourse with Elisa since their separation, was no doubt very desirous of it at that time; but being confident that he was loved to as high a degree as he could rationally desire, he was much in a better condition than Agrippa, who certainly was the most disordered of the whole company. He had taken a seat very near Elisa, but he b● he could not say a word to her which must not be heard by all the rest, especially Artaban, who sat at a very little distance from her, and, for the most part, had his eyes fixed on her countenance. Elisa from that time to time fastened on him such looks as easily discovered what kindness she had for him in her heart; or if those who were not concerned therein, were accordingly the less apprehensive thereof, they were but too too significant to the construction of the passionate Agrippa; who, reading in them all he could fear in favour of his Rival, was wounded thereby to the very heart. Of this he would have given expressions remarkable enough, had he harkened only to the suggestions of his passion, but being a person of much prudence and reservedness, he so far sinothered the agitations of his thoughts, as not to discover them but only to Elisa, who had already taken but too much notice thereof.  
Now there having not happened any thing of a long time in that Country so remarkable as the carrying away of Cleopatra, that became for some time the subject of their discourse, and after that Agrippa had acquainted the company with the order that Cornelius and himself had taken for her recovery, and how they had sent by land an infinite number of persons to find her out, and by Sea the greatest part of the ships that were in the port of Alexandria, to so little effect that none of all those brought any account of her, all spoke with very much resentment of the misfortune of that fair Princess. It went to the very heart of Candace for Caesario's sake; Elisa out of her own excellent good nature, was extremely troubled at it, and Ariobarzanes and Arsinoe though the Children of Artabasus, and Brother and Sister to Artaxus, having not for the deplorable destiny of their Fathers, that cruel resentment which their Brother would never quit towards the innocent family of Mark-Anthony, but, on the contrary, calling to mind, with tenderness, the years they had spent in the company of the Princess Cleopatra, and her Brothers, in the same City and Palace, where they than were, and reflecting on the demonstrations they had in those days received of their affection, were very much afflicted at that misfortune. Insomuch that Ariobarzanes, concerning himself in it with that ingenious generosity which was observable in all his actions, made a protestation that he would hazard his life in the service of that Princess. Whereupon, Agrippa, who had privately seen Alexander the day before, had furnished him with a Vessel, and had in few words been informed by him how things had passed, looking on Ariobarzanes with a smile; I am very glad, said he to him, to find your sentiments of this business suitable to the greatness of your courage; but I am doubtful whether you will persist therein, when you have understood that the Princess Cleopatra was carried away by the King of Armenia your Brother. Ariobarzanes was very much at a loss to hear that, but ●ot long after rejoining to the former discourse; You entertain me, for your own diversion sake, said he to Agrippa, with a discourse that seems to have but little probability in it; but, it being supposed that the King my Brother had carried away the Princess Cleopatra, I should by no means approve his action, and would never serve him in such an unjust enterprise. I expected no less from your Virtue, replies Agrippa, and it is upon the experience I have of it, that, after a little recollection, I am resolved to acquaint you with the whole truth of that business, and shall inform you of divers other passages which you must needs be astonished at, after I have told you, that instead of sending abroad both ships and men, I would have gone in person, as I thought myself obliged both in point of duty, and the friendship I have for the Children of Anthony, in pursuit of the King your Brother, who would needs come and carry away, even out of our Port a Princess of the house, and under the Protection of Caesar, if I had not received an express order from the Emperor not to stir hence, upon any account whatsoever, before his arrival.  
This premised, Agrippa perceiving that the whole company, and particularly Ariobarzanes and Arsinoe, harkened very attentively to him, gave them a brief relation of what he had understood from Alexander, of his first addresses to Artemisa, of the cruelty of Artaxus, and the extremity whereto he had been reduced upon the scaffold, his escape through the assistance of Artemisa, and his arrival upon the coast of Alexandria with that Princess. Ariobarzanes, who had trembled, as it were, out of the horror he h●d conceived at that description of his Brother's cruelty, was on the other side glad of the safety of Alexander, and commended Artemisa for the acknowledgement she had made of his affection; protesting that if he had been near her, he would have encouraged her in that design, and have sacrificed his life to promote it.  
Agrippa, perceiving him to persevere in those virtuous sentiments, after he had commended him for it, reassumed his discourse, and entertaining the company with all that Alexander had learned from Cleopatra, during the space of a whole day that they had been together before her last carrying away, gave them an account of her meeting with the King of Armenia upon the Sea; how that cruel King was going to thrust a weapon into her breast to kill her, and had been disarmed by the Love he immediately conceived for that Princess; the persecutions he had made her suffer, their arrival upon the coast of Alexandria, the escape of Cleopatra, the relief she had received from an unknown person on horseback, who had defeated the King of Armenia when he was upon the point of retaking her; how she got to the Lodging, where Alexander and Artemisa were retired, and how that the next day she had been carried away a second time into the wood with the Princess Artemisa, by a company of horsemen that belonged to Artaxus, who in all probability had returned her into the hands of their Master: that Alexander, having wandered up and down in pursuit of her all that day, and the next night, though to no purpose, gave him a secret meeting the next day, and after he had given a brief Relation of what he had entertained them with, had entreated him that he might have a Vessel and men to make after those that had carried away Cleopatra and Artemisa; which he had done, not without much regret that he could not go himself in person, by reason of the express orders he had received from the Emperor not to stir by any means out of Alexandria.  
During all this long discourse, the prudent Agrippa made not the least mention of Coriolanus, though he had furnished him with his own horse in the wood to ride after Cleopatra, and was not ignorant of the greatest things he had done for the relief of that Princess. The whole company was extremely astonished at the relation of Agrippa, especially Ariobarzanes and Arsinoe, who were doubly concerned in it, both in the person of Artaxus and that of Artemisa. They continued for a good while all silent; but at last, Ariobarzanes, being unwilling Agrippa should imagine, that his discourse had wrought any change in him as to his former opinion; I am extremely astonished, said he to him, at the Relation you have made of the cruelty and injustice of Artaxus, and so far from disapproving the procedure of Artemisa, that certainly, had I been at Artaxata, at that time, I should with her have hazarded my life for the safety of Alexander. The extremity he was reduced to, by the inexorable severity of Artaxus, makes me tremble, and though he be my Brother and my King, he should not find any other in the world that would more oppose him in these horrid and detestable attempts. Might it please the gods, that, notwithstanding my Obligations to him, I might without attempting his life, deliver Clopatra and Artemisa out of his hands, and I protest to you that I should neither spare my pains, nor my blood upon that account. The King of Armenia, added Artaban, hath shown himself in those last actions to be the same man he had ever been, for it was out of the horror I conceived at his cruelty, that I sometime quitted his service, when he barbarously put to death two Cilician Princes, both Prisoners of War, whom I had taken myself in fight. But I can assure you thus much, that he is hardly in a condition to undertake any long Voyage, or any great enterprise; that I have seen him, and spoke to him within these two days, and that we parted but yestereday, after we had remained for some days together in the same house.  
Upon this he related to them how he had met Artaxus at the house of Tiridates, as also what discourse had passed between them, and told them, how that the day before, he had left that house, not long before his departure thence, upon a visit to Tiridate's Tomb.  
That discourse of Artaban gave the Company new matter of reflection upon that adventure; insomuch that at last Philadelph, who had been silent a long time, taking, upon that, occasion to speak; If I thought that Prince Ariobarzanes, and the Princess Arsinoe, said he, looking on them, would pardon me the injury I have innocently done them, I should acknowledge how far I have been engaged in this adventure, and would tell them, that, if I am not much mistaken, it was myself that fought with Artaxus, for the recovery of Cleopatra, and who, encouraged by the justice of the quarrel, gave him such wounds as made him incapable of further fight.  
Here he took occasion to acquaint them how he had met with Artemisa near the spring, though he spoke of her as a person absolutely unknown to him; how that at first he took her for Delia, what grief it was to him when he grew sensible of his mistake, what compassion she had expressed thereat, the long discourse there had passed between them, and how that upon the point of their departure one from the other, he had seen Cleopatra passing by, making all the hast she could before a person on horseback that pursued her. He told them that he had not any acquaintance with that Princess, but that by the admirable beauty he had observed in her countenance, it must needs be either some Goddess or the Princess Cleopatra.  
This account of Philadelph raising in the Company new matter of astonishment, as, that by a strange traverse of fortune, two men that were implacable Enemies should come and engage one the other, yet without either's knowledge of it, and that the amorous Philadelph should fight with the Brother of his beloved Delia. He once more craved their pardon for it, and both of them assured him, that the greatest affliction they conceived at that adventure, proceeded from the fear they were in, it might further exasperate Artaxus against Philadelph, and would make him the more inexorable as to the consent he expected from him for the quiet enjoyment of Arsinoe.  
It was generally concluded that the fair Lady he had met with at the spring, was no other than Artemisa, and that especially after the description he had given them of her, and the resemblance, which upon the first sight had made him mistake her for Delia, though there were a difference between their faces observable enough an imagination that were not so violently prepossessed with the impression of Delia.  
The end of the Second Book.   

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA; OR Loves Masterpiece. Part. X.  
LIB. III.  
ARGUMENT.  
Flavianus is brought in wounded to Alexandria, having been worsted in his attempt for the deliverance of Cleopatra; Whereupon Agrippa, Artaban and others prepare for her rescue; but upon their coming to the port, discover a ship arriving, wherein were Alexander and Marcellus, bringing in Cleopatra and Artemisa. Tigranes desires the favour of a visit of Elisa, but is denied: Cornelius persisting in the presumption he had, that Candace was only a Lady of great quality in Ethiopia, persecutes her with the discoveries of his affection. Cleopatra and Alexander are brought into Alexandria. Artemisa, persuaded, that Ariobarzanes and Arsinoe had been dead, 'swounds upon the first sight of them, and afterwards acquaints Ariobarzanes that he is King of Armenia by the death of her Brother Artaxus. Ariobarzanes, Alexander, Philadelph, Olympia, Artemisa, and Arsinoe condole his death, and afterwards reflect on the advantages they all have by Ariobarzanes 's coming to the Crown. Candace and Elisa are made acquainted with Cleopatra, to whom Queen Candace discovers both herself and quality, and entertains her with the History of Cleomedon. Elisa does the like with that of Artaban. Agrippa hath a private conference with Elisa, wherein he further discovers his passion to her. Artaban entertains Elisa and Candace with a relation how he escaped drowning, after he cast himself, all armed, into the sea, with Zenodorus the Pirate in his arms. Cleomedon hath a secret interview with Artaban in Elisa 's Chamber, where he discovers himself to Cleopatra and Alexander, to be Caesario, the son of Caesar, and Queen Cleopatra; which they not easily crediting, are confirmed and satisfied by Candace, Elisa, and Eteocles.  
WHile these Illustrious Persons were thus in the midst of their entertainments, discoursing of the many strange accidents that were come to their knowledge, Cornelius comes into the room, discovering by his action that he had something of news to communicate. Whereupon addressing himself to Agrippa, My Lord, said he to him, I have just now received some tidings from the Princess Cleopatra, and those that carried her away. Those whom we sent in pursuit of them, were gotten far enough hence to find her, when in the mean time they were nearer us than can well be imagined, insomuch, that Flavianus, a Commander of one of our ships, met, but this morning, with that, wherein were the Ravishers, lying close under one of the Rocks, which in some places hang over this coast, came up to her, saw the Princess, spoke with her, and fought for her deliverance with so much good success in the beginning, that he boarded the enemy with divers of his men, and was in a manner possessed of her, when a certain Person, who had not appeared at the first engagement, comes up upon the Deck, without any other arms then his sword, and fought ours with so prodigious a Valour, that having either killed or forced away all that were gotten into the other vessel, he struck down Flavianus himself, loading him with such wounds, that he was incapable of fight any longer, and so by the death of the Commander, abating the courage of the Soldiers, they gave over the enterprise, and were forced to quit their attempt for the deliverance of Cleopatra, and to make what hast they could into our Port. Flavianus is brought into the City, very desperately wounded, I have seen him, and though it be with much difficulty, that he expresses himself, yet have I made a shift to get thus much out of him.  
The news is not the worst we could have expected, replies Agrippa, and since Cleopatra is yet at so small a distance from us, I hope she may be met with by some of the other Vessels that are still abroad to find her. It was ever my opinion, says Artaban, that the King of Armenia could not be gotten far hence, and that, out of all question, the wounds he had received had been the ground of his lying in that obscure place, till such time as he were in a condition to depart. But is it not possible, continued he, turning to Cornelius, we may yet come time enough for the relief of that Princess? And have you no other Vessels ready for us in this extremity? We may make use of that which hath brought in Flavianus, with what there is remaining of his men, and such others as will follow us, says Agrippa to him, and since that those we seek are so near us, I think I shall not much oppose the orders of Caesar, if I go some few stadia out of Alexandria, upon an occasion of so great importance. It were not civility to entreat either Ariobarzanes, or Philadelph, whereof the one is Brother to Artaxus, the other in hopes to be, to afford us their assistance in this emergency; but for you, generous Artaban, if your condition, in point of health, be such as may permit it, I should not refuse your assistance, and having such a second with me, I may well think our Enemies must be very valiant to dispute the Victory with us, I find myself in a capacity to follow you, replies Artaban, and there is not any thing shall hinder me from courting the glory I conceive it is to fight under the great Agrippa.  
Elisa's complexion changed at this discourse of Artabans, and he discovered in her eyes the trouble it was to her that he should so readily engage himself in such an enterprise. Ariobarzanes and Philadelph knew not well what resolution to take, there being little probability they should be drawn in to engage, the one against his own Brother and his King, the other against the Brother of his dearest Delia, both of them being equally troubled at the departure of their Companions, in order to an engagement upon so just a quarrel. However, they knew no remedy, but to take all patiently, there being no matter of choice in the business, and consequently saw, there was a necessity they should quietly expect what would be the event, upon the promise which Agrippa made to Ariobarzanes, that if they met with the King of Armenia, they would treat him as a King, and would afford him the fairest terms he could expect, for his sake.  
These two great men, conceiving they had very little time to lose, as things than stood, in order to the design they were engaged in, left the Princesses, and were attended by all the Roman Nobility that came along with Agrippa to Alexandria. 'Tis possible they might have taken a far greater number with them, but having understood what number of men might be with Artaxus, and knowing that he had but one single Vessel, they thought there was no necessity of taking any more with them. Artaban sent for his armour, giving order that Telamonius should come along with them from the house of Tradates, and that they should be brought aboard the Vessel, to be made use of if occasion were, as being not able, by reason of the condition he was then in, to endure the weight of them without some inconvenience to himself.  
After they were all departed out of the Chamber, Cornelius who stayed there upon the order of Agrippa, coming up to Elisa, acquainted her, that he had, not long before, parted with the King of the Medes, who had honoured him so far as to dine with him, and that that Prince had entreated him to know of her, whether he might with her leave give her a visit. Elisa, though naturally full of mildness and compliance, seemed to be much troubled at that proposition of Cornelius, and looking on him with a little angry blush, that immediately spread over his face; He shall not need put himself to this trouble, said she to him, for after the violence he would have done me yesterday, I cannot look on him otherwise then as my Enemy. Let me therefore entreat you to spare me that affliction, if you please; and if you will have me to conceive myself at my own freedom, in a City where you command, I beseech you, let me not be forced to see those persons, whom above all I endeavour to avoid. Far be it from me, replies the Praetor, to side with Tigranes against you, and assure yourself, you shall be free and absolutely at your disposal ●n Alexandria, while I shall continue in that power which the Emperor hath put me into: but on the other side you are to consider, that, since you have the liberty to see Artaban, you were not very much to be blamed, if you also endured a visit from the King of the Medes. It is not my design, replied the Princess, that Tigranes should be ignorant how much I prefer Artaban before him, and that he should accordingly assure himself, that, besides the difference which Virtue hath made between them, I must needs add very much to it of myself, unless he imagines I know not how to distinguish between two men, whereof the one hath done me the greatest injuries he could, and the other the greatest services I could expect from him.  
Corn●lius, who had not made this proposition to Elisa, but merely to satisfy the importunity of Tigranes, who had entreated him to do it, thought it not civility to press it any farther, perceiving she was offended thereat, as being a thing, which he saw the had not the least inclination to grant. Whereupon, having taken a seat somewhat near Candace, he began to entertain her with the eyes, rather than with his tongue, as having not that command of his speech, as that he durst acquaint her with his thoughts; and that fair Queen perceiving it, would not suffer Elisa to be a minute from her, out of a fear she might be left alone with him. At last, having observed that the weather was somewhat cloudy, and that the Sun darted not his rays with too much violence upon the Terrace, he would needs invite the Princess to take a walk about it, not only for the air sake, but also for that there was a fair prospect thence into the sea, and that they might distinctly perceive things far beyond the place where they had met with the King of Armenia's ship.  
This curiosity was a sufficient motive to oblige them to leave the Chamber, and Philadelph, upon the command which Arsinoe herself laid upon him, having taken Elisa by the hand, while Arsinoe stayed with Ariobarzanes and Olympia, to whom her presence was not any inconvenience, Cornelius very fortunately happened to be alone with Candace. They took some turns upon the Terrace, before he could speak to her with any freedom, but at la●t, getting some few paces before the rest, and imagining he could not be overheard by them▪ Is it possible, Madam, said he to her, that, in a place where I may presume, I have some power, I should be the only miserable person, and that I should find so many other men happy through the favours of those Ladies whom they effect, while you seem to be absolutely insensible of the love I have for you?  
Cand●ce conceived such a vexation at this liberty of discourse, that she was upon the point to declare to him what she was, so to stifle the presumption he took to speak to her after that rate, as conceiving withal that it could not be long ere she were discovered, and that she was not so much obliged to conceal herself, now that Tiribasus was dead, as she had been were he living. However, reflecting on the concernments of Caesario, she forbore to do it at that time, out of a fear of exposing him to some danger, and being withal unwilling to discover herself, before she had taken his advice in it. She therefore endeavoured to find out a means, that is, so to express herself, that Corn●lius might perceive she was displeased at his discourse, yet so as that he might not be incensed thereat, as calling to mind how much she was obliged to him, and fearing the discourtesies he might do her. Upon these considerations, after she had continued some little time ere she made any answer, That I am so insensible of the passion you tell me of, as you conceive me, said she to him, the only reason is, that I neither am, nor am any way desirous to be, acquainted therewith; but I must withal assure you, that I am extremely sensible of the civilities I have received at your hands, and that with the remembrance thereof I have all the gratitude and acknowledgement I ought. Were that certain, Madam, replied he with some precipitation, you would treat after another manner, a person whom you conceived yourself obliged to for so considerable a service, and you would not slight, with so much disdain, an affection which cannot any ways displease you. Were I not sufficiently mindful of the obligations you have laid upon, replies Candace, a little moved, I should tell you that many times, what does not displease may be thought importunate, and that to endure any man's, either injury, or importunity, is to me equally insupportable.  
This discourse put Cornelius out of all patience, and not being able to dissemble it; I am very much troubled, Madam, said he to her, that I should be thought importunate to you, but if you will be pleased to remember yourself, I think I have sometimes found you in so good an humour as that you thought not my presence troublesome to you, and it is yet possible, that if I prove the object of your detestation, I shall not be withal that of your contempt.  
Candace, who was naturally fiery and confident enough, could not smother her courage upon this discourse of the Paetor, and thereupon looking very scornfully upon him; you have lost, said she to him, all the glory of the service you have done me, by pressing it to me with so many reproaches, and the menaces you add thereto, whence I perceive that you know me not, and that when you shall understand who I am, you will haply learn at the same time to speak to me after another manner.  
With these words she stood still, expecting Elisa & Philadelph to come up to her, & would have no further discourse in private with Cornelius. She made no difficulty to speak that day much more confidently than she had done at any time before, because she was in some thoughts to leave Alexandria within some few days, where if nevertheless she were obliged to make any longer abode, she knew that Caesar was upon his Arrival thither, and considered, that, Agrippa being there already, she should not be exposed to the persecutions of Cornelius, as she might have been without their coming thither. It came also into her mind, that if Augus●us came thither before her departure thence, it were not policy in her to conceal herself, out of a fear, that, if she were discovered (as it was very probable she might, by reason of the commerce that was between the Ethiopians and Egyptians, and the report which might be scattered every where of her flight, and the revolutions lately happened in her dominions) he might misconstrue her lying there incognito, & might take occasion to secure her.  
After she had spent some time in these reflections, she engaged in the discourse of Elisa and Philadelph, and not long after they made a halt for Ariobarzanes and the two Princesses he waited upon, to come up to them▪ that they might further participate of their conversation. Ariobarzanes seemed to be very much dejected and troubled in his thoughts, and Arsinoe in no small disturbance, there being a certain tempest raised in them by the reflections they made on the attempt of Artaxus, and the inconveniences likely to ensue thereupon, such, it may be, as might occasion great alteratiors in their fortunes. They discoursed thereof for some time, all having something to say of it, (Cornelius only excepted, whom the last words and deportment of Candace had so nettled, that for all that day he spoke not a word) and after several discourses, whereby Olympia endeavoured to divert Ariobarzanes; I know not, said she to him, what you would pr●sage by your sadness; but for my part, I have dreamt this last night, that you presented yourself before me, with a Crown of gold upon your head. Could I wish myself a Crown, replied Ariobarzanes, you may assure yourself, my dearest Princess, that it should be only to present you with it, & that it is many times no small trouble to me to consider the rank you are pleased, out of your own goodness, to quit for my sake. I have represented it to you, more than once, replied Olympia, that you cannot do me a greater dispeasure then by insisting on discourses of that nature; and, not to mention that you are Brother and Son, to Kings, that by a long series have sat successively in the Throne, you should be sufficiently satisfied, that a Virtue, such as yours is, is more considerable in my account than many Crowns.  
While they were discoursing in this manner, Agrippa, with Artaban, and a great number of persons of quality from Rome, were in their way towards the Port. As they went, Agrippa fell into discourse with Artaban, whom he could not but admire in whatever related to his person, and hardly forbore sighing, when he considered the many excellent qualities which made him both amiable and dreadful. Yet was it not in his power to have any aversion for him, as well by reason of the natural propension he had to Virtue, as that the personage of Artaban was such, as if it had been purposely made easily to raise love, and hardly aversion, in any that saw it. Artaban, who had not the least suspicion of Agrippa's love for Elisa, who esteemed him very much for his great actions, and much more for his moderation amidst so vast a fortune, who was in hopes of his assistance against Phraates, and was obliged to him for the refuge he had afforded him against Tigranes, looked upon him with very much respect, and a most unfeigned affection. The compliments that passed between them all the way to their coming into the Port, were accordingly such as well expressed the mutual admiration and esteem they had one towards another. They were hardly well gotten into it, but they perceive a Vessel making all the sail she could towards them, and was already within such a distance, as that they could discern the streamers. The Officers of Cornelius, who were with Agrippa, had no sooner observed them, but they told him it was the same Vessel which had been provided for Alexander, in order to the design he was then engaged in, and upon that account Agrippa having stood still, resolved to wait its coming to shore, as taking that to be the only way to hear what news they might bring of Cleopatra. They had not long to expect, for that within a few minutes the Vessel was gotten into the Port, & immediately they saw appearing upon the hatches, Prince Marcellus, with the Princess Cleopatra, Alexander with Artemisa, & behind them the women that belonged to Cleopatra  
Agrippa, being a particular Friend to all of the house of Anthony, and one that had a more than ordinary honour for Cleopatra, was extremely elevated at that sight, nay indeed astonished at that of Marcellus, whom he thought not to be near that Country, & of whom there had no tidings been heard; no more than of Tiberius, since they both left Rome, much about the same time. There was a very great friendship between Marcellus and Agrippa, though it had been often imagined at Rome that the great authority of Agrippa might produce alterations in that particular, and that there had been many reports spread abroad, that Marcellus, to whom the Empire was designed, looked with some jealousy on the great credit of that Favourite of Caesar's, and had some thoughts to pull him a little lower. This suspicion had prevailed very much among the people, but those, who were acquainted with the virtue of Marcellus and Agrippa, were of another opinion: and besides that the excellent good nature of Marcellus was such as forced on him an esteem and affection for Agrippa; on the other side, Agrippa loved him, and looked upon him no otherwise than as if he had been indeed the Son of his Benefactor, and accordingly endeavoured what lay in his power to moderate his fortune so as that he might not conceive the least jealousy thereat.  
As soon as he had perceived those illustrious persons on the deck, he would not stay their coming ashore, and thereupon, taking Artaban along with him, took a boat and went to receive them in their own Vessel, and at the same time sent some of his men to Cornelius, to give him notice of their arrival, and to desire him to send Chariots to bring the Princesses to the Palace. Cleopatra seeing these two great persons appearing, one whereof was unknown to her, came towards them with that amiable majesty which purchased her a certain Empire over all that saw her, addressing herself to Agrippa, whom she knew to be one of the best Friends she had, she entertained him in the most obliging way that could be, and surprised Artaban in such manner with the sight of her admirable beauty, that how strangely soever he might be prepossessed with that of Elisa, he could neither suffer that lustre without being dazzled, nor forbear acknowledging the advantages which Heaven had bestowed on that beauty beyond all that were mortal. He had not shaken off that astonishment when Agrippa presented him to Cleopatra by recommending him to her under the famous name of Artaban, and giving him withal a character which could not any ways be denied him. This made Cleopatra look on Artaban with an astonishment not much different from that which he had conceived at the first sight of her, and while he saluted her with the same respect which he would have expressed towards a goddess, and she received him with abundance of kindness and civility; Marcellus and Agrippa embraced one the other, and Alexander coming forward, and presenting Artemisa to Agrippa, as a treasure he had recovered through the assistance he had received from him, the Virtuous Roman received that fair Princess with all the Courtship that was due to her birth, her great merit, and the Friendship he bore Alexander. Upon that, Marcellus, being advanced to salute Artaban, whose name he had understood from Agrippa, after he had looked on him a little, knew him to be the same man whom he had seen in the house of Tiridates, at the time that that unfortunate Prince breathed out his last, and called to mind the hot contestation there had passed between him and the King of Armenia, and how far he had himself endeavoured to reconcile them. Artaban also knew him, and knowing him withal to be Prince Marcellus, whom all the Empire had a love and respect for, gave him no less honour than he would have done to Caesar himself, and received from him those demonstrations of the esteem and account he made of him suitable thereto.  
That done, Artaban and Alexander saluted one another as two men equally surprised, the one at the goodly presence of Artaban, the other at the great beauty of Alexander. But when Artaban came near Artemisa to salute her, and that she was preparing to return to the name of Artaban which she had several times heard pronounced, what was due to its great reputation, she cast her eyes on his countenance, and, considering it with some earnestness, notwithstanding the alteration which some years had wrought in it, she at last read in the person of Artaban, the same Britomarus whom she had sometime known in Armenia, and for whom she had that esteem which all the world was forced to acknowledge justly bestowed on him. While they were solemnising their renewed acquaintances, with expressions full of tenderness and affection, Agripp● being returned to Cleopatra, discovered to her the joy he conceived at her liberty and return; and that Princess who had understood from Alexander, that it was he himself that had furnished him with the Vessel & men that had come in to her relief, and had heard but a little before that he was then coming in person to find out those that had carried her away, had not her happy arrival prevented him, expessed the great sense she had of that obligation, in words proceeding from the greatest gratitude imaginable.  
At last, this illustrious company closing up together again; and Agrippa, having acquainted the Princesses with the care he had taken to send for Chariots to convey them to the Palace, persuaded them to remain in the Vessel till they were come, and, in that interim would needs know after what manner they had been recovered, and what accident had brought Prince Marcellus into their company. Marcellus thought it then unseasonable to give any particular account of his adventures, and so, only to give Agrippa some satisfaction, told him, that he came into Alexandria, just at the time, that Alexander was going to take ship, to find out the Princesses; and that, having met him and known him upon the Port, after they had embraced one another, with that fraternal affection wherein they had been brought up by Octavia, he had acquainted him with the loss of Cleopatra, and the design he had to relieve her, and that upon that account of her, he without any further disputing of the business, went abroad resolved to run the same fortune with him.  
But when the Princess Cleopatra was pressed to give Agrippa a particularly account of her being taken and her deliverance, she looked on Marcellus and Alexander, as not knowing whether she should make any mention of Coriolanus before Agrippa, in whom the concernment of Caesar might have altered his inclinations. But Marcellus, who was satisfied of the virtue of Agrippa, advised her to give him a faithful relation of all without disguising any thing, assuring her out of the confidence he had of his generosity, that he would rather relieve than crush the miserable. Upon this confidence of Marcellus, the Princess gave Agrippa a brief narrative of what had happened to her since her last carrying away, whereof the accidents of greatest importance had happened that very day, and surprised him in such a manner, by the relation of the great performances of Coriolanus, and by that of the King of Armenia's death, that he could not for some time recover himself out of the astonishment which the consideration of so many extraordinary occurrences had raised in him. And thereupon taking occasion to let Cleopatra know that it was not without some reason that she reposed so much confidence in him, he related unto her, how he had met with the disconsolate Cor●olanus in the wood the night before she was carried away the second time; how that that unfortunate Prince had discovered himself to him by his speech, and how that, not being able to do him any other service, he had bestowed on him his own horse, and had passed over the night in the woods, after he had spent the day in pursuit of those that had carried her away.  
Cleopatra could not forbear celebrating the generosity of Agrippa upon that occasion, and being before more then half convinced of the innocency of Coriolanus, she was not a little glad to find that, even in his misfortunes, Agrippa continued that Friendship towards him which he had ever had for him. Artaban, before whom, upon the engagement of Agrippa, who had to that purpose satisfied Cleopatra, were related the prodigious effects of the valour of Coriolanus, was very much pleased with that discourse; and being acquainted with that Prince by reason of the combat wherein he had been engaged against him in the presence of Candace and Tiridates, and by the abode they had both since made at Tiridates' house, and, having accordingly conceived very much affection and a more than ordinary esteem for him, he thought himself very much concerned, in what he had heard said of him, and though he concealed what he knew of him, because he saw there was not any necessity to speak of it, he was earnestly desirous to meet with some occasion wherein he might serve himself. And indeed it was partly upon that ground that he had so generously proffered his assistance in order to the relief of Cleopatra, at a time when the posture of his health, and other allowable motives might well have procured him a dispensation from engaging in that enterprise.  
Upon that reflection, looking on Artemisa, and perceiving the tears standing in her eyes for the death of the King her Brother, he was troubled at the misfortune of that Prince, though he was neither taken with his disposition nor his person, and so gave the Princess his Sister the best words of comfort he could. He thought not fit to tell her any things of Ariobarzanes or Arsinoe, because Agrippa and he had so resolved before, that she might be the more surprised when she saw them; and yet when he heard her called in the ship by the name of Queen Artemisa, he could not forbear telling them that they should not be so hasty to give her that title before the King's death were published, and that he had a certain imagination that she would not be Queen of Armenia.  
This discourse made Agrippa smile, which Marcellus perceiving would fain have known the meaning of it, when they perceived Cornelius was come with two chariots, followed by an infinite number of people whom the tidings of Cleopatra's arrival had drawn down to the port. The name of Cleopatra was in so much veneration in Alexandria, and the children of that great Queen were so dear in the account of the people, who had seen them born and brought up in their City, that they could not understand that the Princess Cleopatra, and Prince Alexander her Brother, whom they had sometimes, upon the coumands of Anthony, reverenced in a manner as gods, were coming into their City, without running before them with exclamations, and such expressions of tenderness, as could not admit any thing comparable thereto, but upon such another occasion.  
Nor indeed did Cleopatra and Alexander much misinterpret those expressions of their affection, for they could not look on either the walls or people of that City, wherein they had received their first breath, where they had passed over their first years with so much reputation, and whence, after the deplorable ruin of their house, they departed ten years before, to follow as far as Rome the fortune and the triumphal chariot of their Conqueror, but the sadness of the commemoration must force them to shed tears which i● was impossible for them to keep in. And it was the more observable in Cleopatra, for that she never gav● over weeping from the port even to the palace, the sight whereof multiplied her grief when she could not look on it only as the magnificent house of the Ptolomey's, but that also where the unfortunate Anthony, and the deplorable Cleopatra had lost their lives with the Empire, not to mention thousands of other sad circumstances, which at the same time pressed into their memory.  
Cornelius had so ordered things, that Olympia and Arsinoe, Ariobarzanes and Philadelph, as also Tigranes and Artaban, were not lodged within the Palace, because that had been reserved for the Emperor and the Empress, who were to come thither within two days, and how spacious soever it might be, the Emperor's retinue was so great, that there would be but little lodging to spare for other persons. But for the Princess Cleopatra, Cornelius thought it not fit to lodge her out of the Palace, but had appointed her certain rooms within that which had been designed for Octavia. And Candace, either to leave the more room for the Empress, or that she could not be without the company of of Elisa, was, upon the desires of that Princess, gone along with her, and had left her lodgings void; so that Cornelius finding none more convenient for the Princess Cleopatra, changed his former resolution, and disposed of her into the place which before had been taken up by the Queen of Ethiopia.  
When the two Princesses were alighted out of the Chariots, they met, at the bottom of the stairs; with Elisa, Candace, Olympia, and Arsinoe, with Ariobarzanes and Phil●delph, coming to meet them. Agrippa immediately showed Elisa and Candace to Cleopatra, to whom he had spoken of them before in the Chariot, and those two Princesses coming up close to her, she saluted them, with sentiments not much different from that admiration which they expressed at the sight of her divine beauty. She knew Elisa to be sole heir to the Empire of the Parthians, and looked on Candace as a Princess of the royal progeny of Ethiopia, and, accordingly, made the return of civility to both, which upon the sight of their countenance they might have challenged from all the World; and at the same time Artemisa saluted Olympia, who, knowing her to be Sister to Ariobarzanes, was, through a forwardness of affection, come up to her. Artemisa entertained, with very much civility, the effects of an affection, whereof she yet knew not the cause. But when, after she had disengaged herself out of her embraces, and received those of Candace and Elisa, whom she first met in her way, she was going towards Arsinoe, who stretched out her arms with a cordial friendship to entertain her, and at the same time cast her eye on her countenance, as also on that of Ariobarzanes, who stood close by her, she was seized by such an astonishment, that had it not been for Artaban, who was not ignorant of the cause thereof, and came forward purposely to hold her up, she had fallen all along on the ground.  
In the mean time Arsinoe kissed her, and embraced her with much tenderness, yet was not able to bring her to herself, nor make her apprehend that what she saw was real. Whereupon Ariobarzanes, after he had saluted Cleopatra, whom Agrippa had acquainted with his name, as also with that of Arsinoe, taking Artemisa out of his Sister's hands, after he had begged the pardon of those great Princesses, to acquit himself of the civilities he ought his Sister, saluted her at last, with all the demonstrations of an affectionate friendship, and perceiving that that Princess, astonished at the unexpectedness of the interview, could not be recovered out of her amazement; What Sister, said he to her, will you not know Arsinoe and Ariobarzanes? Artemisa, with much ado, coming at last to herself again, and looking on them one after another for some time, before she would venture to speak: Alas, said she at length, I very well see the countenances of Ariobarzanes and Arsinoe, but I question whether I may trust my eyes so far, and I find it no small difficulty to be satisfied, whether they are shades that present themselves to me after their death, so well known throughout all Asia, or whether they appear really before me, and without any illusion. Assure yourself, Sister, replied at the same time, Ariobarzanes and Arsinoe, you see us really, and you may embrace us without any fear, since we are truly living, and have not been dead, but in the opinion of men.  
Artaban, who stood near Artemisa, gave her further satisfaction as to that truth, acquainting her in a few words, how they had both escaped shipwreck; and when the Princess was convinced, and that the caresses of her brother and Sister had dispelled all her doubts she in the first place gave way to certain tears, which a tender joy would needs add to those which the death of Artaxus still forced out into her face. And then, instead of returning the caresses she had received from Ariobarzanes, suitably to their ancient familiarity, she cast herself on her knees before him, and taking him by the hand, and bathing it with her tears, Since it is certain, said she to him, that you are Ariobarzanes alive, and that I am now absolutely at your disposal, be pleased to pardon the unfortunate Artemisa, what too too justifiable a gratitude hath obliged her to do for the safety of Alexander, she embraces your knees to obtain that favour at your hands, and she hopes, the gods have not restored you to life, to raise in you a severe, and an inexorable, judge of my actions.  
Ariobarzanes, astonished at the deportment of Artemisa, from whom he expected those caresses that spoke more familiarity, raised her up with much ado, and discovering how much he was surprised at it in all his looks; Sister, said he to her, I apprehend not what you mean by this kind of behaviour towards me; and besides, that the crime you charge yourself with descraves rather to be commended then blamed, and that I should have done no less myself for the safety of Alexander, it is to the King our Brother, and not to me, that this submission is due from you. If it be due to my King, replies Artemisa, it is to my King that I make this submission, and since I am the first of your Subjects that hath demanded any favour at your hands, I am also the first that brings you the news that you are King of Armenia.  
These words put Ariobarzanes to such a loss, that he had not the power to make any present reply thereto; and during the silence he kept by reason of the astonishment he was in, Agrippa assuming the discourse acquainted him with the particulars of Artaxus his death, as he had not long before understood them from Cleopatra; and in the relation he made thereof, he forgot not to insist very much upon this, that his death was purely the effect of his own rage and exasperation, and that his enemies had been so far from contributing any thing thereto, that they endeavoured all they could to prevent it.  
Artaxas had, no doubt, been a very inhuman Prince, one for whom it could not be expected, that the inclinations of Ariobarzanes and Arsinoe should be very violent, by reason of the great disproportion there was between their dispositions; yet, being both of excellent good natures, the grief they conceived at that unfortunate accident, was, for the present, so great, that It could not be abated by the purchase of a Crown, in the apprehension of Ariobarzanes, nor, by the hopes of a more happy condition of life, in that of A●sinoe. For Philadelph and Olympia, if they were astonished in some measure at the first hearing of that news, assoon as it was dispersed, joy took its place, and there was no reason it should give way to any thing in their apprehension, it being considered how very much it concerned them to find Ariobarzanes King of Armenia. But for him, he had his countenance covered with tears for some time, which there was not any one thought proceeded from dissimulation, by reason of the confidence which all had of his virtue; and Artemisa, by the embraces wherewith she received him, and by his courteous reception of Prince Alexander, seemed to be so far eased of that burden of sadness, which till then had been very observable in her countenance, that there was not any could suspect her the least troubled at the loss of a Kingdom, which in all probability she should otherwise have possessed. Ariobarzanes, thinking himself obliged in civility to retire, Artemisa, who would needs, and conceived she ought to follow him, took leave of Cleopatra for some small time. He was also immediately after followed by Olympia, Arsinoe, Alexander and Philadelph; and the Princess Cleopatra, with Elisa and Candace, attended by Marcellas, Agrippa, Artaban, Cornelius, and divers others, went up the stairs, and was conducted by that Illustrious company into those lodgings that had been prepared for her. She could not prevail with Elisa and Candace, to forbear waiting on her thither, though that, out of the assurance she had of the quality of Elisa she did all that lay in her power to prevent that civility from her, that she might rather have done it to her. But she being the last come thither, and having lately escaped a danger which gave others a pretence to visit her, she was forced to permit it, and she did it with such a grace, that those two Princesses were infinitely taken with it. They both equally admired that so famous beauty of Cleopatra; and, though nature had been sufficiently liberal of her excellencies in theirs, to raise the same admiration in those that knew them, and that there was in that of Elisa, as much delicacy and perfection, and in that of Candace, as much grace and majesty as ever had been observed in the most accomplished beauties that ever were; yet was it certain, that the delicacy of that of Elisa, and the majesty of that of Candace were equally apparent in that of Cleopatra, and that if it were very hard for any man to see her, and not be sensible of a love towards her, it was also a matter of no less difficulty to look on her, and not conceive a respect and veneration for her.  
Candace, who thought herself much more nearly concerned in her person then Elisa, and looked on her with an affectionate tenderness, as the Sister of Caesario, was very desirous of some opportunity to discover herself to her, and to enter into that measure of her friendship which she should be pleased to admit her into. And having heard her particularly celebrated for her prudence and reservedness, she resolved to make her acquainted with Caesarrio, and could not but think him chargeable with ascertain degree of inflexibility, that he had remained a whole day in the same house with her, and never offered to discover himself to so amiable a Sister. But for the present, she, with the Princess Elisa, only expressed to her, in terms full of the tenderest passion, how much they were troubled at the misfortune she had fallen into, and how glad they were of her liberty and happy arrival thither. Whereto the fair daughter of Anthony having returned thanks, for that demonstration of their affection with the greatest acknowledgements she could make thereof, assured them on the other side of the satisfaction it was to her to meet with them in Alexandria: and in regard they were both strangers, and might haply stand in need of some recommendation to those powers which then disposed of the Empire, she proffered them, in the most obliging manner in the World, to serve them with all the interest she had in the friendship of Octavia, Julia, Marcellus, and some other persons whom she was allied to, in order to what they might have to propose, to the Emperor, promising them withal, all the service and assistance they might desire in those traverses of fortune which had forced them out of their native Countries.  
The two Princesses received those proffers with the greatest acknowledgements imaginable; and while they were thus engaged in discourse, Agrippa and Artaban, having not the opportunity to entertain Elisa as they could have wished, Cornelius having not the confidence so much as to come near or speak to Candace, and Marcellus being drowned in a deep melancholy, which had hanged upon him for some time before, Agrippa rising up, said, it was but just to leave the Princess Cleopatra to her rest, after the travail and vexation she had undergone, and Cornelius entreated Marcellus, that he would be pleased to follow him to those lodgings that were designed for him. By which means the Princesses were left to themselves, Artaban not presuming to stay alone with them though he left not the room without some regret. But ere he went out, Candace having called to him with much more confidence, than Elisa durst have done, and calling to mind the resolution she had taken to reconcile Caesario and him together that night, gave him notice to be on the Terrace at the hour she assigned him, and which was the same wherein Caesario was appointed to come. Artaban entertained that favour with abundance of respect: and going out of the Palace very well satisfied, he went to give a visit to the new King of Armenia.  
In the mean time, Ariobarzanes, being retired to his own lodgings, in such a sad posture as had not permitted him to take notice of the persons that followed him, observes at last among many others that were in the chamber, Prince Alexander, and imagined with himself, that the affliction he was in, could not excuse him from entertaining with the civility he ought a Prince so eminent as the son of Anthony. Whereupon addressing himself to him, with that sweetness and courtship that was ordinary and natural in him, after he had excused his unmind fullness of him, and the want of respect he was guilty of in suffering him to accompany him at that time, by confessing the disturbance he was then in; My Lord, said he to him, is it possible there can be any goodness remaining in you towards a house that hath exposed your life to so dreadful a danger, and wherein you have received such barbarous entertainment? And is Artemisa still so happy, as to have the continuance of your affections, after she had put them to such terrible trials? Assure yourself, my Lord, replies Alexander, that for what I have suffered for Artemisa, I place abundance of glory and happiness in it and the reflection I should make thereupon, must needs be very pleasant, if I am so fortunate as to find you in sentiments as much to my advantage, as those of King Artaxus, were to my prejudice. Ah my Lord, replies Ariobarzanes, make not the least doubt but I shall acknowledge the great honour you do our house, and be confident, that, notwithstanding I am the son of Artabasus, I shall have my eyes so far open, as to consider, how little you have contributed to the misfortunes of our Family. No, I have still fresh in my memory the first expressions of your friendship; and I should have disclaimed my Sister, had she not done what she hath for your safety, especially in an extremity whereto you were reduced, merely for your love to her. I shall not therefore tell you she is yours, for you have but too much interest in her for any man to dispute her with you, but I shall, for your further confidence, make this protestation to you, and that truly and sincerely, that your affection to her cannot be greater, than the earnest desire I have to serve you both in your mutual inclination.  
Alexander almost out of himself for joy to hear Ariobarzanes in these expressions, comes up close to him whereupon these two Princes embraced one another, with so many discoveries of a real friendship, that the whole company could not forbear taking notice of it, not without much sympathy and satisfaction. Artemisa could not smother the felicity she conceived therein, as seeing herself, after so many storms prosperously arrived into so happy a Port, and finding, by reason of the sweet and generous disposition of Ariobarzanes, her fortune much different from what it had been some few days before. While her thoughts were the most taken up to find out terms to express her satisfaction, or rather to moderate it, she accidentally cast her eyes on Prince Philadelph whom, till then, by reason of the disturbance she was in, and the many illustrious persons she had seen before, she had not taken any particular notice of. And after she had looked on him for some time very earnestly, she sound him to be that Prince of Cilicia whom she had met with some days before, and who had entertained her with a relation of his noble inclinations for Delia, and who, upon the point of their parting, had so gallantly defended the Princess Cleopatra, against those that would have carried her away. Artemisa, upon this occasion, conceived such an esteem for Prince Philadelph, and was so much moved at the relation of his love to Delia, that she could not look on him without expressing an extraordinary joy thereat. Whereupon coming to him with a countenance, wherein were visible the great kindness she had for him; What, my Lord, said she to him, I have, it seems, the good fortune to see you again, and the liberty withal once more to assure you of the esteem which I have conceived for your admirable virtue?  
Philadelph, whose joy had had put him into so much disorder as Artemisas, could have done her, and who waited the opportunity to discover himself to Artemisa, and to put her in mind of their last meeting, kissing one of her fair hands with the greatest submission that might be; Madam, said he to her, my fortunate meeting with you, proved the prologue to that good fortune which the gods have been pleased to send me since, and you may also infer thence that I was not absolutely blinded by my passion, when I took you for Delia. How extremely I was moved at your relation, replies Artemisa, the gods only know, and consequently you may well think yourself obliged to let me know immediately, whether you have had any tidings since of that Delia, for whom you pretended so extraordinary an affection.  
These words of Artemisa causing Philadelph to look on the Princess Arsinoe with a smiling countenance; I know not, Madam, said he to her. whether it be any prudence in me to acknowledge my inconstancy to you; but I cannot forbear making this confession to you, that that Delia, for whom I had so much affection, hath resigned up the all the right and title she had in my heart to the Princess Arsinoe, your Sister. Ah Philadelph! cries out the Princess with some precipitation, though my Sister were the most amiable person in the World, I should never approve that change in your inclinations, and I should no longer continue that esteem towards you, which I some time had for you, if I thought you could be guilty of any such infidelity.  
These words fell from her with so much earnestness, that Philadelph could not forbear laughing at it in such a manner, as put him afterwards into a little disorder, and more sport might have been made of it, if, by reason of the death of Artaxus, civility had not obliged them to a more serious conversation. And yet Arsinoe thinking it fit to make some rejoinder to the former discourse, What Sister, said she to Artemisa, it seems you would advise Philadelph to prefer a person he never knew before me? She said but these few words, but the action wherewith they were pronounced, raised at first some suspicion in Artemisa, which afterward grew into a satisfaction, in some measure, as to the truth of that business. With that reflection, looking on them both with a countenance wherein were legible the characters of her astonishment, Ah Philadelph, said she to him, is it possible that Arsinoe and Delia should be the same person? Philadelph, who thought it unseasonable to continue that lightness of discourse any longer, discovered the whole truth to her, and, telling her, that that Delia, whom he had professed so much love to in his relation, was the Princess Arsinoe her Sister, put her into such astonishment, that for a long time there fell nothing from her but exclamations, which once over, she embraced a hundred times together that amiable Delia, and entertained Philadelph with all the caresses she could express towards a beloved Brother.  
Ariobarzanes, who all this time was in discourse with Alexander, had nevertheless taken notice of what had passed between his Sisters and Philadelph. And when that first astonishment of Artemisa was over, taking her by the hand, and presenting her to Olympia, who stretched out her arms to her with much affection; What, Sister, said he to her, would you bestow all your caresses on Philadelph and Arsinoe, and will not look on my Princess here, her I say, to whom I not only owe my life, but have sacrificed it, to make her satisfaction in some measure for what I am obliged to her? Artemisa, without any difficulty, cast herself into the arms of Olympia, in whom, not withstanding her paleness, she could observe the tracks of an admirable Beauty, and a most amiable kind of Majesty. And thereupon having entertained her embraces with abundance of affection; Be pleased, Madam, said she to her, to charge the faults you now find me guilty of, upon my ignorance, as conceiving, that, one who, within these few minutes, knew not whether Ariobarzanes and Arsinoe were in the World, could not have learned whom they are obliged to for their lives, nor understood the particular respects due from her to yourself.  
Olympia made answer to this discourse of Artemisa with a civility civility suitable to that of the other, and the King of Armenia engaging himself in their conversation, addressing himself not long after to Olympia; and looking on her with eyes full of love, and a deportment, which, by reason of the present occasion of his sadness, was somewhat more serious than ordinary; Madam, said he to her, when I was so desirous of a Crown to present you with, the gods are my witnesses, that it was my hope I should have arrived to it, by some other way than that whereby it is now fallen to me, and that I should have chosen rather to pass a way my life with a private fortune, and then aspired to the Throne by the death of the King my Brother. But since it hath pleased those celestial powers, whose decrees are irresistible, so to dispose of me, as that I am come to the possession of the Crown of my Ancestors; give me leave to offer it to you, as I would offer you that of the Universe, were it in my power, and be you pleased to receive it from your faithful Ariamenes, as a thing of greater value than it is, and yet as what he conceives a thousand times less dear, and less glorious than the chains he hath worn, and shall wear for your sake to the last minute of his life.  
Olympia entertained this discourse of Ariobarzanes with a deportment suitable to his that spoke it, and looking on him with a countenance, which, in some measure discovered the present state of her thoughts; My Lord, said she to him, I have looked on you with so much esteem, even while you were without a Crown, that that, which you have now received, can hardly add any thing to what you were in my account before; I receive it with all heartiness and submission, because that with the Crown, I am confident you will bestow on me the Prince that is to wear it, and without the person of Ariobarzanes, I could easily contemn all the Crowns and Sceptres of the Universe. I cannot bestow Ariobarzanes upon you, replied the Prince, because he is yours ever since the day he ceased to be his own, and consequently it is not in my power to make you that present; but I might well offer you the crown, because that it is within this hour that it came to my disposal, and that till than I was not in a condition or capacity to make you any offer thereof; and so, ay, in some measure make you satisfaction for the injury I did you, in depriving you almost of all hopes of a dignity which you could not have miss elsewhere, and which you slighted for your Ariamenes.  
He entertained her with a many other things that discovered the greatest kindness & sense of obligation that might be; whereto the fair Princess answered with the same generosity, and their discourse might have continued yet some while on the same subject, had it not been interrupted by Prince Philadelph. And what shall become of me? said he to Ariobarzanes, shall I make no advantage of that influence which the change of your condition gives you over my fortunes? And will you offer me nothing, now that you can do all things, after you had offered me so much when all my hopes consisted merely in the good inclinations you had for me? Assure yourself, replied the King of Armenia, that one of the greatest advantages I shall hope to make of my new dignity, is, that I may be able to do you the civility I ought: and though you have indeed but too great an interest already in Arsinoe, yet if you have that distrust her arsposition, that you imagine she stands in need of a Brother's consent to make her absolutely yours, I should heartily, with that consent, part with the crown I have received, could I think that present might contribute any thing to yours satisfaction.  
Philadelph received this discourse of the King of Armenia's, with the marks of both a satisfaction and a resentment that were indeed extraordinary, and immediately thereupon casting himself at the feet of his amiable Delia, and, notwithstanding her resistance, kissing one of her fair hands, with the ordinary sallies of his affection, entertained her with abundance of discourse, consonant to those demonstrations of Love which she had received from him in Cilicia: Alexander was in the same terms with Artemisa and Ariobarzanes being also in the same humour with Olympia, these six fortunate persons, after so many storms which a malicious fortune had raised against them, finding themselves safely arrived at the so much wished for port, celebrated their happiness by all the obliging expressions, which they might derive from such an excess of joy, But being mutually ignorant of the fortunes of those persons that were so dear to them, and particularly Artemisa, who knew nothing of that of Ariobarzanes, and had not understood some part of those of Arsinoe, and that there were a many particulars in that of Artemisa and Alexander that were unknown to Ariobarzanes and Arsinoe, they would needs be informed one of another, and thought fit to spend that day in the relations of their adventures. To do this, they would observe a certain order, and Alexander and Artemisa being extremely desirous to understand those of Ariobarzanes and Olympia they were accordingly the first satisfied, with this proviso, that Alexander, Arsinoe and Philadelph should afterward give them an account at large, of what, of their fortune, was not as then come to their knowledge. Artaban coming into the room while they were thus engaged, and being very kindly entertained by all those illustrious persons that were pesent, diverted them not from the resolution they had taken. And being a person they might well trust with their concernments, he harkened, not without much satisfaction to many things, whereof, as having had an imperfect account of them before, he was very much pleased with the relation, and would needs sup with that noble company, and spend his time in it till the hour assigned him by Candace.  
In the mean time the Princess Cleopatra stirred not out of her chamber, where she had with her Elisa and Candace, and assoon as the Princes were departed the room, the two Princesses imagining, not without reason, that Cleopatra might stand in need of rest, took their leaves of her, and went to their own lodgings which were close by. Cleopatra, upon their importunity laid herself upon the bed, and rested for an hour; but time expired, she got up, and having understood what quality Elisa was of, and had some account of Candace, and finding herself inclined to a great esteem and affection for both, she would put off no longer the return of a civility which she conceived she ought them, and going out of her own chamber with her woman Camilla she went to that of Elisa. The two Princesses quarrelled very much at her for that strictness of ceremony, and seemed to be very much troubled, that she had taken so little time to rest, considering the great trouble and hardship she had undergone. But the made them answer, that the rest which her body might require was not so considerable to her as the obligation she thought lay upon her to return their civilities, nor so dear to her as the honour to wait on them, which she was not able to dispense with any longer after she had been deprived of their sight with so much precipitation.  
The two Princesses made her answer with equal civility, and whereas Candace was already passionately in love with her, as well out of a consideration of her excellent endowments, which might produce that effect in any one, as upon the account of Caesario, and was very desirous to be more intimately acquainted with her, looking on her in a most passionate manner; As for the fair Princess of the Parthians, said she to her, whose extraordinary merit makes an immediate assault on all hearts, and whose illustrious birth is known to you, she may without any unjust presumption claim some place in your friendship, and there are few souls can stand out long against her charms, if she thinks sit to make use of the battery thereof. But for one whom you have no other account of then that she is a person of some quality born in Ethiopia, and cannot aspire above a mediocrity of parts, she cannot rationally hope for the same advantage, if in some measure, to balance those wherein Elisa so much excels her, she could not pretend to something, that, more particularly recommends her to your notice. For matter of recommendation, replied the Princess, smiling at the modesty of her discourse, there is so much ligible in your face, that it were supererogatory in you to look for any elsewhere; and as for your being born in Ethiopia, you are never for that, that less worthy of our affections and our respects. I am not, I must confess, made absolutely acquainted with your birth, though I have understood something of it; but besides what I have observed of the Princess Elisa 's familiarity and behaviour towards you, there are many other arguments whence I infer, that your quality must needs be of the highest, and I shall haply know more of it, when you shall be so well acquainted with me, as to think I may be trusted with a secret of that consequence. I know not, replied the Queen, whether I can with civility distrust you; but, besides the bent of my own inclination which naturally engages me into a very great confidence of you, I have haply some very particular reasons to discover that to you, which I have not to any but the Princess of the Parthians. And therefore to begin with something, I shall make no difficulty to acknowledge myself to be Candace, Queen of Ethiopia, whom Fortune hath been pleased to cast on these coasts and that dispossessed of a Kingdom, which she hath since recovered by the assistance of a person unknown to you.  
Upon this discourse of Candace, Cleopatra asked her pardon, in case, through an ignorance of her quality, she had been wanting as to point of civility towards her, and gave her many thanks for the confidence she was pleased to repose in her, with a protestation that she should make no other advantages of that acknowledgement of her, than such as might give her the occasions to serve her, if she should be so happy as to find them. And thereupon reflecting on the last words that fell from her whereby she confessed herself obliged for the recovery of her Crown to a person of her acquaintance; May I pretend to so much happiness, said she to her, as that there should be a person within the reach of my knowledge, that may have done you a service of so great importance as that you tell me of, and can I beg his name of you without presuming too far upon the confidence you have honoured me with. I hope, it will not be long, replies Candace, ere I shall make you far greater discoveries of him than that of his name, and, it may be, renew your affectionate inclinations towards a person upon whose account I presume so much upon your friendship; but till that happen, give me leave to ask you whether you did not see Cleomedon, in the house where Prince Alexander made some little abode upon his arrival near Alexandria. It is very true, replied Cleopatra, that I have seen him in that house, where I stayed one night and some part of the next day, till such time as I was carried away thence: Alexander procured me the sight of him in his bed, which he was confined to by reason of some wounds, so that I could not see him with as much advantage in that condition, as, no question, I should have done in another. But to measure him by that little observation I then made of him, I perceived as well in his countenance as his discourse, something that argued a certain grandeur much beyond the ordinary rate of men; and it now comes into my mind, that my Brother procucured me that sight of him as a person of a great and noble fame, and told me withal, that his name was much cried up in Ethiopia for many famous victories. Alexander replies Candace, hath told you no more of him than Truth will justify; but I am in hope that he will bring both you and Alexander, those tidings of a person whom you once thought very dear, which may prove very advantageous to me, and very much further the design I have to purchase your friendship; and it is for that only reason, that I asked you whether you had seen him, and that I am desirous to give you another sight of him before this night be quite passed, if you give me the liberty to do it. It cannot be, replied the fair Princess, but too great satisfaction to me, to see a man so considerable, both upon the account of his own worth, and the great services he hath done you, and I think myself so much concerned already in whatever relates to you, that I cannot but with much more interest than heretofore, look on a man to whom you are obliged for the recovery of your Crown. Not, Madam, that any consideration of his person, or the hopes I may conceive within myself of him, can add any thing to the respect which I have already for you; and assure yourself, that if the friendship you are pleased to desire of me, were any thing of far greater value than it is I should gladly offer it you by way of exchange for that which I desire of you.  
Candace, extremely satisfied with this discourse of Cleopatra, made her answer in terms so affectionate, that the fair daughter of Anthony, as well out of considerations of gratitude, as for the remarkable excellencies of that great Queen, felt in herself a more than ordinary inclination to love her as much as lay in her power, and began to give her the greatest assurances she could thereof. Which Elisa, who had been silent all the time very much observing, and not able to endure it any longer without some discoveries of her jealousy; What, Madam, said she to Candace smiling, you are, it seems absolutely resolved to engross the friendship of this fair Princess to yourself, and would not suffer me to have any place therein, though possibly my desires of it are not inferior to yours? If you dispute it with me, replies Candace, no question but you will clearly carry it from me but if you do, you must look on it as the pure effect of your merit, whereas I have some reasons to pretend thereto, which you cannot any ways allege.  
Cleopatra perceiving this obliging contestation of the two Princesses, found it no great difficulty to give them satisfaction; and indeed they were both of them so amiable, that she was easily inclined to afford them those demonstrations of her affection which they desired, that is, such as could not well be denied them.  
But the discourse of Candace, whence she might have inferred that she must needs have something of news to acquaint her with, raising a certain curiosity in her, she could not forbear discovering to her the desire she had to be somewhat better informed than she was, of her affairs, as also of those of the fair Princess of the Parthians. Which they were no sooner sensible of, but they were both very ready to afford her that satisfaction, and having obliged her to cast herself on the bed, upon which they fate by her; Candace gave her a more brief account than she had done to Elisa, of the adventures of the greatest consequence that had happened to her; but in her discourse she discovered nothing of the birth of Caesario, and calling him all the way Cleomedon, represented him only as a Prince come for refuge into her dominions.  
Cleopatra having admired the strange accidents of Candaces' life, and expressed how much she was moved thereat, with no small affection, gave hearing afterwards to what she was yet to learn of those of Elisa; I say what she was yet to learn, for the greatest part thereof was already come to her knowledge from the common reporter of all things, Fame, who had divulged the most memorable of her adventures. By these discourses of the two Princesses, Cleopatra became better acquainted than she had been before, with both Artaban and Cleomedon, and looked on them as the only two in the World, whom she might justly compare to her own Coriolanus, and having understood from them the design they had to have them reconciled that night, and to oblige them to forget the great difference that had been between them, she very much approved their resolution. And being further satisfied, that Cleomedon, for very good reasons, could not come to visit Candace till such time as all other people were in their beds, she assured the Queen that she would gladly return into their Chamber at that time, if she thought it fit, that she might take better notice than she had done before of two men so particularly observable, as also to understand from Cleomedon; what the Queen had put her in hopes of, concerning him. They continued their discourses of this nature till supper time drew near, and having discovered their desires to eat together, all things were accordingly prepared in a Parlour, not far from their lodging rooms, whither they were conducted, and immediately after supper, returned to Cleopatra's Chamber, to pass away the evening with such as should come to visit them, and whom, by reason of their rank, they could not deny that civility, with a resolution withal to meet together at Eliza's Chamber, when all were withdrawn.  
Immediately after they were gotten into the Chamber, as they had imagined, they were visited by Marcellus and Agrippa, who had supped together at Agrippa's, Cornelius having, as it should seem, spent that evening with the King of the Medes, with whom he had contracted a friendship, and was engaging in some designs of his. Marcellus, whose company was infinitely pleasant, when his mind was in a serenity free from the tempests of his discontents, entertained the Princesses for some time, with an account of some particular observations he had made in his late voyage; when in the mean time Agrippa, finding an opportunity to sit by Elisa, so as that Candace was not so near her as she was wont to be, that fair Princess could not avoid, but that he might speak to her, yet not be overheard, and consequently that he might acquaint her with his love. She would have called Candace to a relief which they mutually afford one the other, by way of combination against both Agrippa and Cornelius, could she without incivility have done it: but Agrippa was a person of that rank, and, withal, of such worth in himself, that the Princess, not without some reason, was afraid to disoblige him, and thereupon resolved to endure this discourse, as being out of necessity forced to do it.  
Agrippa having thus broken the ice, and removed the first difficulties, he found it so much the less to carry on his design; and after some discourse of an indifferent nature, perceiving that he might speak without any fear of being heard: Is it possible, said he to her, that, in a place where I have the honour to wait on you at any time, I have with much ado got the advantage of this little interval, to give you some assurances of that submissive passion which I have for you? Or rather am I to imagine, that the first discoveries I made to you thereof, have incensed you so much against me, that you should avoid my company as you do?  
No doubt but Elisa, was sufficiently troubled at these words, yet would she not displease Agrippa, whom she thought herself obliged to, whose power she was afraid of, and whose virtue she highly esteemed. Accordingly, rejoining to his discourse with an accent full of mildness and modesty; I have but too great esteem, said she to him, both for your worth and your person, to shun your conversat on, and therefore if you find any repugnance in me as to that point, it does not proceed from either of those two causes; and I should both see you and hearken to you with very much satisfaction, had you so much goodness for me as to make something else the subject of your discourse. My discourse shall be of what nature you shall approve of, replies Agrippa, but I cannot, without a great violence to myself, forbear telling you, that I die for your sake, and that, though you should forbid my mouth to tell you so much, it were very hard for my eyes to afford you the same obedience, and that they should not, in some measure, express the effects of what you have caused in my heart. I am easily persuaded, replied the Princess, that you do not feel all that you would have me believe; and I cannot but have that confidence of your generosity, that instead of what your discourse might very well put me in fear of, I shall find only, where you are, a sanctuary against that persecution which I have run through so many dangers to avoid. I should think myself the most unfortunate man in the World, replied Agrippa, if you should look with the same eyes on the love of Tigranes, and that which I have for you, and call that by the name of persecution, which is, on the contrary, a passion full of respect and veneration, such as mine is, as you do the violence of a Prince, who, by force and tyranny hath sought that which he should have patiently expected from your own good liking. I know, Madam, that the enterprise, I engage myself in, is of no small difficulty, when I would dispute a heart prepossessed by another affection, and that an affection dearly purchased by an excess of merit, and which you have, not without much reason, conceived for him, who, of all men, hath shown himself the most worthy of it, as well by his virtue, as the transcendency of his actions. But I shall entreat you withal to assure yourself, that it is not by condemning it, that I shall endeavour to ruin it, to my advantage; and observe, that I freely acknowledge Artaban to be worthy of his fortune above all the men I have known, and, that it is not my own will that inclines me to traverse his affections, but that it proceeds merely from the violence you do me, which is such as I have ineffectually endeavoured to overcome by all the reasons which you could yourself have alleged against it. Do not therefore consider what I do against him as a voluntary action, which might be condemned, but as a forced action, and consequently rather deserving your pity, than his resentment; and pardon, if you please, the design I have to dispute your affections with him, which I shall not do out of any consideration of Caesar's authority, and the power he hath invested me with through the whole extent of his Empire, but my love and services.  
To this effect was the discourse of Agrippa, and the Princess finding some comfort in the conclusion of it, and in what he had said to the advantage of Artaban; It hath ever been my persuasion, said she to him, that, what design soever you might be engaged in, you would make use of no other force than that of virtue itself to effect it; and that is it indeed which makes you more considerable than the rank you are in, or the friendship of Caesar; and it is from the same virtue that I am inclined to hope you will overcome a passion, which may haply expose your reputation to some reproach by thwarting the enjoyments and felicity of those that cast themselves under your protection.  
These words troubled Agrippa more than any thing else could have done, as being leveled at him in point of generosity and honour; and indeed, great souls, such as was really his, are far more sensible of assaults of this nature, than those which proceed merely out of a consideration of difficulty or danger. He accordingly was at a little loss what return to make thereto, but when he had recollected himself a little; It is not for Agrippa, said he to her, to afford protection, within the territories that are under the subjection of Caesar, to a daughter of the King of Parthia. Caesar may be said to protect you, and I may contribute my services to his protection; but it concerns me ever to be suppliant and submissive to you, and to account myself your vassal, rather than your Protector: under this qualification of vassalage, which I conceive honourable enough for me, and not under that other of protection, which I could not pretend to without insolence, it may be lawful for me, upon equal terms, to engage against my Rival, and in this kind of engagement, I shall not seem very dreadful to a person, of whose side the victory is already declared.  
He would have spun out this discourse to a great length, had not Candace, troubled to see the Princess so engaged, started a question to her, purposely to break it off, and, not long after, obliged her to quit Agrippa, and to participate of their conversation. It continued not long that night, for Elisa and Candace, to oblige Marcellus and Agrippa to withdraw the sooner, bid Cleopatra good-night; telling her, that, the better to recover the rest she so much wanted, it was but fit she should go to it somewhat sooner than ordinary. Whereupon the two Princesses departed to their own lodgings, and Marcellus and Agrippa, having taken their leaves of them, left the room at the same time.  
The two Princesses were no sooner alone, but Elisa acquainted Candace with the discourse that had passed between her and Agrippa, and the Queen of Ethiopia, gave her an account at the same time of what she had had that day with Cornelius. Whereupon they advised with one another what they should do in that case, and spent some time in deliberating whether they should acquaint their Lovers with that new emergency. They found very strong reasons on both sides, as well to oblige them to do it, as to divert them from it, and they were absolutely unresolved what to do, when Artaban comes into the room. 'tis, out of all question, that Elisa was infinitely desirous to see him, yet could she not look on him at such an hour, without blushing at the freedom she gave him; and though she loved him to that degree which she conceived herself obliged to do, as well by way of recompense for his great services, as out of her own inclination, yet had she not ever granted him any favour that derogated from the strictest observances of honour and her sex; and had not been persuaded to this secret interview, but out of compliance with Candace, whose authority, rather than any thing else, satisfied her scruples, and prevailed with her to grant it in order to the interview which she so much endeavoured between Caesario and him. Candace, though she had no less devotion to virtue then the other, might presume upon a greater liberty, and besides, that she could not see Caesario but at such hours, she was absolutely at her own disposal, as well in regard of her person as her dominions. Add to that, that in her favouring Caesario, and bestowing on him her Crown with her person, as she was resolved, she complied with the will, and obeyed the commands of her father, who, in his life time, and at his death, had publicly declared such an intention, and had absolutely ordered it should be so.  
Elisa entertained Artaban with her ordinary sweetness and modesty; and Candace, having treated him with all manner of civility; You are now satisfied, said she to him, that I am not much inclined to revenge, and that notwithstanding the resentment which your inconstancy might well raise in me against you, I yet think it not much to procure you such favours as you had not happy ever received before. I must indeed confess, replies Artaban, that this favour is a pure effect of your goodness; but shall not acknowledge, if I may be so free with you, that you had any great resentment to struggle with, for a loss you were not any way sensible of. The loss cannot be thought light, replies Candace, when one loses such a man as Artaban: but it hath been the pleasure of our destinies to dispose of us both otherwise, and for that reason it is but fit we forbear all reproaches. But I must tell you withal, that I have not been the instrument to procure you this sight of Elisa, besides your expectation, without some little By-concernment; and that is, a request that both she and I make to you, that you and Cleomedon have an interview in this room, that you embrace one the other in our presence, and if it be not impossible, become good friends, as your fair Princess and myself are.  
Artaban receiving this discourse of Candace, with a great sense of the obligation she laid upon him; I am very much troubled, Madam, said he to her, that you should not make trial of the respect I have for you, by a test of my obedience, wherein I might find more difficulty, than there can be in that which you propose to me; for the friendship of Cleomedon is a thing, whereof the purchase is so advantageous, that I cannot entertain the offer you make me of it, otherwise then as are compence that you are pleased to allow me and not as a punishment that you impose upon me. I may add to this, that he hath put a late obligation upon me, which ought to have a greater infinn ceon my soul, hen that unresoanable aversion which heretofore I ever found bandying against that affection which his virtue might raise in me for him, & I conceive myself engaged to him in much more than my life amounts to since I must acknowledge the liberty of my Princess, an effect of the relief she received from his valour, when she was in the arms of Tigranes. Artaban, said Elisa to him, very much satisfied with his discourse, assure yourself, you cannot anyway oblige me so much as by this kind of proceeding, and there is such an union between this fair Queen and myself, that it were very unjust there should be any difference between the objects of our Loves. Cleomedon made in a manner the same answer, when we made the same proposition to him; and accordingly, it is no small satisfaction to me, to see that we shall find it no hard matter to establish between you a friendship not unlike ours.  
While Elisa spoke in this manner, Candace, desirous to favour Artaban all she could, pretending she had some business to do in a closet, that was within the room, took occasion to go into it for some time. Which interval the passionate Artaban making his advantage of, cast himself at the feet of Elisa, and embraced her knees, with all the most affectionate demonstrations of that passion, which she was already so well acquainted with; and whereas he could not express that transcendency of joy which then possessed him, otherwise than by confused and broken words, the fair Princess thought his love more legible in that disorder, than it had been in a discourse well couched, and actions proceeding from the greatest recollection. The presence of Urinoe (for Cephisa was walking upon the Terrace with Clitia in expectation of Caesario's coming) hindered him not from giving thousands of kisses to the fair hands of his Princess; and this being the greatest favour he could expect from her, she could not deny it him in so favourable an opportunity, and that especially after a separation, which had caused her to bewail his loss with so many tears. Nay, she had much ado to keep them in now, during the reflections she made on it, and looking on him in the most amorous manner that could be; with those very eyes which had set him so much on fire; Ah Artaban, said she to him, what real afflictions hath your imaginary death cost me! and what abundance of tears have I shed out of that cruel persuasion! Ah Madam, replies Artaban, how precious ought I to esteem that death, and how dear those tears. The rest of my life is no way comparable to that fortunate death, no, it was not either my life or death could deserve those tears, which compassion drew from your fair eyes. But is it not time, added the Princess, I should know, by what adventure it came to pass that you are now alive; or am I still to be ignorant what good fortune it is that we are obliged to for your safety?  
Artaban was going to acquaint her in what manner he had escaped drowning; but Elisa, remembering herself how that the night before, Candace would needs have her to be present at the arrival of Cleomedon, and being a little ashamed that she had suffered her to withdraw into the closet, she called her, and entreated her to participate of their conversation as she had done of the discourse that had passed between her and Cleomedon, and understand, how Artaban had escaped the fury of those waves into which he had cast himself, since that in all likelihood the relation he was to entertain them with would not be so long but that he might well go through it before Cleomedon came in. Candace made her answer, that she should gladly hearken to any thing wherein she thought herself concerned, and after she was set down by her; Madam, says Artaban to her, since that there are but few days since my falling into the Sea, I shall not need many words to acquaint you with what hath happened to me from that time, and shall not abuse your attention long with an account of things of little consequence.  
It is not without some reason, continued he, speaking to Candace, that you said you were concerned in my safety, or at least I may well say that you have contributed very much thereto, and consequently that I am not a little obliged to you for it. To me replied the Queen, somewhat astonished at what he said? Even to you Madam, said he, more than any other; and had it not been for that generous action which you did in setting Zenodorus' ship on fire, that action, I say, which carried in it a more shining demonstration of your virtue then the fire you kindled on the water, I had infallible lost a life; which I could not long have made good against the violence of the waves, being armed all over, my buckler hanging about my neck, and being at too great a distance from the shore to recover it by swimming, even though I had had nothing of armour about me. Their weight had once already forced me to the bottom, where I had rolled myself for some time upon the sand, when by violence of a Billow I was again brought up to the top of the water, where, as good fortune would have it, I met with a plank, half burned, of Zenodorus' vessel, which struck against my head, and, not long after, touched against my hand. Though my condition was such that I had but little knowledge or apprehension left, yet made I a shift to do that, which they say is natural to all men in the like extremity, which is, to fasten on any thing they can: and so, embracing the plank, which was thick and heavy, I did so well with the help of it that I got my head above water, and had the liberty to breath; insomuch that, by degrees, I got it under me, in such a manner, that it bore me up, with the help of my legs, which I moved to and fro, as if I were swimming, the best I could. But I was, withal, so weary, so much troubled with the water I had swallowed, and so loaden with my armour, that I could not hope to escape with that help alone, though I endeavoured with all the remainder of my strength, to force the plank towards the shore.  
Being in this extremity, it pleased the gods to direct certain Fisher-boards whereof there are a many upon that coast, towards the place where I was, which was not very far from the shore. Those that were in them taking notice of the glistering of my head-piece, and perceiving the top of my plume of feathers all wet, imagining what the matter might be, came up with one of their boats to my relief, and indeed it came just at the point that I stood very much in need of it, and was reduced to my last shifts. They took me into their boat, disarmed me, and at the same time made me cast up the salt water I had drunk, and when they saw I had a little recovered myself they took me ashore and brought me to one of their cottages. There was I forced, by reason of the hardship I had undergone, and the sad condition I was in to rest my self for some hours, as being so spent, that I was hardly able to stand on my Legs.  
I had not been there long ere the memory of my misfortunes began to torment me, and thereupon representing to myself how that I left the Princess under the power of a cruel Pirate, and that I was without men; without vessel, and knew not any way how to relieve her, my grief came upon me with so much violence, that I was in manner resolved to go and seek, in the bowels of the Sea, that death, which I had with so much difficulty escaped; and certainly I think, that, had I not been prevented by those good people, I should have executed that fatal resolution; but indeed my weakness was with all such, that it was easy for them to keep me on a sorry bed whereon they had cast me, and where I had already passed away some hours.  
I shall not trouble you Madam, continued he addressing himself to Elisa alone, with a repetition of all those words, which fell from me during the violence of my grief; and you may judge by the greatness of a passion which you are well acquainted with, that there was, in the effects it produced, but very little moderation. The night was now drawn near, when having recovered my strength and spirits in some measure, I called for my clothes which the Fishermen had taken off to be dried, and began to find my self in such a condition, that I would not by any persuasions be kept there any longer; when good fortune, being then my Friend, directs to the cottage where I was, a certain man, whom I knew to be Telamonius, a person that acccompanied me in the quality of an Esquire I immediately called him by his name, and the faithful Esquire, transported with joy runs to me, and embracing my knees, asked me thousands of times by what miracle I had escaped; but instead of answering him, I presently asked him what was become of the Princess? Telamonius, perceiving with what earnestness I pressed that question to him several times; My Lord, said he to me, assoon as the Pirate, by the assistance of his men, was taken up out of the water, and brought into the vessel, finding himself in a posture able enough to pursue the design he had undertaken, as having been immediately recovered out of the water, he gave orders to be set ashore at a certain place he appointed to them, and leaving the Princess under the guard for his Lieutenant, he left the vessel with a select number of his men, to seek out, as they said, a person that had made an escape the night before, after she had set the vessel on fire; he commanded his Lieutenant to have a care of the Princess, and to expect his return at a place where he appointed him. For my part, having not the patience to stay any longer in the vessel, I thought it my best course to leave it, with a resolution to give you all the assistance I could if so be I found you capable of any, or to take some order for your interrement, in case I should have found your body cast up any where on these shores. Whereupon I came away with the Pirates, with Zenodorus 's leave, after I had cast myself at his feet begging his permission to look after the body of my Master; to do it the last honours it were capable of.  
So that it seems then, said I interrupting him, my Princess is yet about the river, where she is to expect the return of the Pirate, and that Zenodorus is come ashore upon this coast, and is not yet returned to his ships. I can assure you, My lord, replied he, that he is not yet returned, and that he is resolved, by what I have understood, to bestow all the next day to sinned out the person that is escaped from him, and that it is impossible he should have met with her since we came ashore.  
This account of Telamonius filled me again with new hopes, as resolved, that if I could meet with the Pirate, what number soever of men he might have about him, I would either die in the engagement with him, or force him to return the Princess, out of a certain confidence, that either gods or med might afford me some assistance to carry on my enterprise. In order thereto, knowing that we were not far from Alexandria, where might easily be procured all things that were necessary, I gave Telamonius some of the jewels I ordinarily carried about me, and which the Fishermen had not, as good Fortune would have it, taken out of my clothes, when they dried them, and commanded him to make all the hast he could to the City, and buy two horses, charging him, by all means, to make choice for me of the best he could meet with all, what rate soever he might be set at. To which having further enjoined him to bring them me assoon as he possibly could, and to give notice that night to the Praetor of Alexandria of the arrival of the Pirates upon the coast, and the carrying away of the Princess, I dismissed him.  
Telamonius, with these orders, took his way towards Alexandria, while I remained, with some little hope to do something, among the Fishermen, who would needs force me to take what poor entertainment they could afford me; and certainly; that night's rest was no more than necessary for me to recover my strength, and put me into a condition to be able to deal with those enemies which I should meet withal. But why should I spin out my relation to such a length? In a word, the next day about an hour after Sunrising, I saw Telamonius coming with two horses. So that having put on my Armour and bestowed some of those jewels I had left among the Fishermen, I got up on the better of the horses, which I sound, much to my content, very sit for my turn; and having understood from Telamonius that the Praetor had notice given him, and was sending out vessels to the relief of the Princess, I resolved to make a search all about Alexandria. During all that day, it ran still in my thoughts, that the only way to relieve you, Madam, was, to meet with Zenodorus, and to become master of his liberty as he was of yours; and I thought so much the more likely to be effected, in regard that Telamonius had assured me, that, the better to find out the person he was in quest of he had divided his men into four parties, and consequently had but very few about him.  
I thought fit in the first place to ride up and down the shore and to visit the woods, and all the places thereabouts, especially wherever I observed the tract of any horse. I had spent in this manner the best part of the day to no purpose, when crossing through a pleasant valley, and perceiving a little rivulet, which took its rise from a spring that was not far off, the thirst I then was in, occasioned as well by the heat the of the day, as the heaviness of my armour, obliged me to alight, and to come to the spring, where happened that accident which you may have had an account of from Cleomedon, since you have already seen him. 'tis very true, replied the Princess Elisa, we have so, and understood all the particulars of your combat; and I kn●w not how to forbear blaming you, for being so ready to give Cleomedon occasion to come to blows, since you had no ground to hate him, nor did pretend any thing to the Queen of Ethiopia.  
Madam, replies Artaban, you may be pleased safely to assure yourself as of nothing but truth, that the condition I was in then was such, that I had not any intention to engage Cleomedon to fight; but calling to mind the last words I had said to him at our parting, wherein I made a confident brag, that I should one day be in a condition to measure a weapon with him without any prejudice to him, I thought myself obliged to put him in mind of it, out of a fear he might attribute that forgetfulness to any want of courage, and yet I endeavoured all I could to express it in such terms, as could not have provoked him to fight, had he not been as forward as myself.  
Whereupon Artaban, having briefly run over those passages which Caesario had related before, acquainted them with what had happened to him since Candace's being carried away in their sight the second time; his engagement with Zenodorus' crew; his retreat to the house of Tiridates, and the abode he had made there, to their meeting at Tiridates' tomb.  
He had just made an end of his discourse, when Clitia came to give them notice that Cl●omedon was upon the Terrace, and immediately after, he come into the room with an amiable majestic deportment. He had hardly acquitted himself of his salutations to the two Princesses, when Artaban, who would needs do, with an obliging grace, whatever he conceived he ought to do, comes up to him, and saluting him with a civility animated by all the expressions of a real greatness of soul; Generous Cleomedon, said he to him, I have forborn too long from rendering you that which all men acknowledge to be your due. Since you have overcome that unjust repugnance which I had to do it, as well by the admirable virtue you are Master of, as by a late demonstration of your generosity, give me leave to approach you with abundance of remorse for what is passed, abundance of respect for your person, and a more than ordinary earnestness to deserve some place in your Friendship.  
Caesario, who was resolved to have done that to Artaban which Artaban had done to him, was somewhat troubled that he had been prevented, and entertaining his discourse and action with a civility suitable to his; The friendship you proffer me, said he to him, is a happiness of that concernment, that it was but just I should purchase it with the price of my blood, and as I could not charge any thing but my own misfortune with the backwardness you were in to afford it me, before; so is it to my good fortune only that I must attribute the present you make me of it now. I conceive, replied Artaban, that respect and esteem which I have for you, due to your virtue, your birth, and your excellent endowments; and the earnestness I have, freely and faithfully to serve you, to the assistances you afforded me by your valour, in delivering this great Princess out of the hands of those that would have carried her away. It hath been no small satisfaction to me, replied Caesario, that you were something concerned in the service I have done the Princess of the Parthians, though it were such as she might have received from any man upon the like occasion; but I have not forgotten the relief you gave me, when my horse was killed under me in the engagement against Zenodorus 's men. However it be, I conceive it a great happiness, that these mutual civilities should engage us to become faithful friends, and I promise, I shall never be found guilty of the least violation of a friendship which I desire may be eternal between us.  
With these words, these two great persons embraced one another, upon the commands of the two Princesses (the respect they had for them not permitting them to take that liberty in their presence) and a little after, they looked one upon another with a mutual admiration, and were both equally satisfied as to the Friendship which they had contracted. Candace who was infinitely pleased with it, spoke to them therein; and Elisa, who was extremely sensible of the assistance which she had received from Caesario, joined her solicitations with the others, to establish a perfect union between those two great men. But they might very well have spared their endeavours to that purpose; for the behaviours of these two great souls was so mutually ingenious and cordial, that there was such a perfect consonancy between their words and thoughts, that it might be said, their friendship was truly consummate before they had in a manner made the first overtures thereof.  
These four illustrious persons, all satisfied, though with some inequality, would have fallen either together, or separately, into some pleasant discourse had not Candace bethought herself that the Princess Cleopatra was not gone to bed, out of an expectation to hear from them, and if she had not had a great desire to make her acquainted with Caesario that night. Upon that reflection, having taken the Prince a little aside (and at the same time left Elisa with Artaban in an affectionate and pleasant discourse) she discovered to him her desires, that he would make himself known to the Princess his Sister, to whose prudence it were not unsafe to commit things of the greatest importance, and repeated to him all the discourses which she had entertained her with, to prepare her thereto.  
Coesario very willingly condescended to the proposition of Candace, as having already found it no small difficulty to conceal himself from so amiable a Sister, and having forborn it upon no other account than the submission he had for the Queen. Candace would have sent word to Cleopatra of it; but she was a little troubled that Art●ban should be present, as not conceiving, that Caesario would, before him declare a thing, the lea●t discovery whereo● would infallibly cost him his life. She acquainted him with her thoughts to that purpose, and advised with him what course should be taken to have things so carried as that Artaban might not be present at that action. But Caesario's soul being too great to entertain the least distrust of such a person as Artaban, and upon the first discovery the Queen made of her jealousy, slighting that precaution, and lifting up his voice, purposely that he might be heard by all that were in the Chamber: There is no necessity, Madam, said he to her, of any such circumspection when we have to deal with a virtue, such as is that of Artabans. I know him so well, as that I would trust him with something more precious than my life, and therefore, since it is your pleasure we should see Cleopatra, I shall discover myself to her, before Artaban, with, as much confidence as before yourself.  
All that were present were infinitely pleased with the ingenuous clearness which Caesario expressed; and Artaban, who had heard the words, and easily imagined the occasion on which they were spoken, willing to return him an answer, not unworthy the good opinion he had of him; I must needs confess, said he to him, that this demonstration of your generosity is very great, wherein you are content to make a discovery of yourself to me, which, among persons, of whose faith you were doubtful, might prove prejudicial to your safety; and I receive, with the resentment I ought, a confidence, whereto I have not any ways obliged you. But that you may be satisfied, that I am not absolutely unworthy of it, and that you need not fear I should abuse it, now that you have assured me of your friendship, I am to let you know, that, even during that time, wherein I had the greatest aversion for, nay, in the time of youth, which is not ordinarily over-apt to keep a secret, I have known your name and birth, and that you will not tell me a thing I know not, when you shall discover yourself to the Princess your Sister to be Caesario, the son of Caesar and Cleopatra.  
This discourse of Artabans, little expected by Caesario, raised in him some astonishment, and might have put Candace into some jealousy of Elisa, had she not immediately called to mind to some words which Artaban had said to her, when they met at Tiridates' Tomb, whence she might have imagined, that the birth and true name of Caesario were not unknown to him. The Prince, upon this new expression of true friendship, could not but admire the great courage of Artaban, who, notwithstanding the strange aversion he had ever discovered towards him, and that in an age which is not much inclined to the moderation of the most violent passions, had slighted the opportunity he had to prejudice his enemy, and observed that secrecy towards him, which he would not, without some difficulty, have found, even among his friends. And certainly his astonishment had been the greater at this kind of proceeding, if these characters of an elevated soul had been less familiar to him, and if he had not found in himself an inclination to do the like towards Artaban.  
However, he thought it but just to let Artaban know what esteem and acknowledgement he conceived at so generous a carriage, and looking on him with an action, which in some measure expressed what his thoughts were employed about; I must needs confess, said he to him, that all things are admirably great in you, and that it will be a great injustice in fortune, if she raise you not above Kings, since they are things you can pull down when you please. There are few persons certainly would have made so little advantage as you have done, of a discovery, which might have proved so prejudicial to me in the world; but there are yet fewer would have effected those great things which are in you the accomplishments of your generous beginnings. But, may I presume to ask you, by what adventure you should come to the knowledge of that which all the World was ignorant of? A young man that had sometime been a servant of yours, replied Artaban, and who since, as I have been informed, was killed in one of the battles which you fought in Nubia, having for me a very particular friendship revealed that secret to me, and there needed no more than the illustrious character I observed in your person to satisfy me that he told nothing but what was truth. If those characters are able to work that effect, said Caesario to him I must needs imagine you to be the issue of the gods; and though you are not pleased to derive any recommendation from a birth, which you do not stand in need of to make you equal to the greatest Princes that are, yet can I hardly be persuaded but that yours is of the most eminent. Artaban would have made some modest return to this discourse, when the Princess Cleopatra, whom Candace had sent for, comes into the room, the Princess' having not thought it fit that she should receive Caesario's visit in her own, because of her women, to whom there was no necessity he should discover himself.  
The room, upon her coming into it, seemed to be filled with a new light, which dazzled both Artaban and Caesario, and though one of them had seen her that very day before, & that the other were her brother, and had spent his childhood with her, and that, to say better, they were both of them prepossessed by a passion, which till then had not permitted them to imagine any thing in point of beauty comparable to Elisa and Candace, yet could they not smother the astonishment which they conceived upon this sight, nor but acknowledge, though with some confusion and repugnance, that all the beauties upon earth ought to give place to that of Cleopatra. Caesario, transported with the affection which the blood and merit of that Princess, inspired him with, could upon the first sight hardly forbear making discoveries thereof; but upon second thoughts he resolved to proceed after another manner, and to make that adventure contribute somewhat to the diversion and entertainment of those that were present.  
Cleopatra was hardly gotten into Eliza's chamber, ere word was brought her that Prince Alexander, her brother, was come into her own, and that having left the King of Armenia, he thought not fit to depart the lodgings till he had wished her a good-night. Cleopatra was going to send the Messenger back again with word that he should stay a while for her, when Queen Candace knew it was Caesario's design, to discover himself, as well to Alexander, as Cleopatra, entreated her to send for him, assuring her that there was none had the least mistrust of him, and that Cleomedon was too much engaged by the assistance he had received from him to deny him the opportunity to see him.  
Cleopatra, having done what the Queen desired of her, saluted Caesario and Artaban, with that ceremony which she conceived she ought to have observed towards two such eminent men, and of whom she had her imagination full, by the account had been given her of their gallant actions. She looked on them one after another, with a certain astonishment, as not knowing any one in the World whom she could think comparable to them, but only her own Coriolanus.  
They were going to fall into some discourse, when there comes into the room Alexander, upon the first sight, somewhat at a loss to find that company there. Artaban and he had spent the evening together with Ariobarzanes, and it was not long since they had parted, after they had conceived, (considering the small abode they had made together) abundance of esteem and respects one for another. But the sight of Cleomedon, was it, that he was most astonished at; and, having not seen him since he had left Tidaeus' house in pursuit of Cleopatra, he word red much to find him in the same room with her. Yet was not his astonishment so great, but that he expressed the satisfaction he conceived it to meet with him; and after he had in the first place addressed his civilities to Elisa and Candace, with much submission, he came to him, to let him know how glad he was to find him in a condition so different from that wherein he had left him, & craved his pardon, that, by reason of the urgent necessity that had called him away to the relief of Artemisa and Cleopatra, he had been forced to leave him, and to recommend to other persons the recovery of a health which he infinitely esteemed.  
Caesario thought this discourse so obliging, that he could not but make an answer suitable thereto; whereupon looking on Alexander and Cleopatra with an affection, which blood, obligation, and merit, had easily raised in him; No, it is I, said he to the Prince, that aught, with much more reason, make my excuses to you; and had you afforded me the time to put myself into such a posture as that I might have followed you, the indisposition I might have been in by reason of my wounds, should not have excused me, for not bearing of you company, to relieve the Princess Cleopatra. That was an affair, which I was more particularly obliged to look after, than you could have imagined; and besides the engagement I stand in to the assistance I received from you, when my life was in greatest danger, the remembrance of a person whom you have sometimes esteemed, and of whom I have undertaken to bring some tidings to the Princess Cleopatra, and yourself, makes me concern myself in your interests, with a very violent affection.  
It is very true, replies the Princess Cleopatra, that the Queen hath put me into very much hope that I should receive by you some account of a person I have sometime dearly loved, and it is out of that confidence, that she hath been pleased I should come t● her Chamber at such a time that it may be some inconvenience to her. I must needs confess that this promise of the Queens hath raised in me a curiosity which is more than ordinary to me, as well out of the imagination I have, that, from a great person, such as you are, I shall understand only great things, as out of a self ●lattery I have been guilty of that it might be a Beloved brother a person of excellent endowments, whom an amorous despair, forced from Rome about seven or eight years since, that you have something to say to me. We are to learn whether he be dead or living, and it is not impossible, but that in his travels he might have met with you, and been of your acquaintance.  
I am very much troubled, Madam, replied the Prince, that it is not in my power to give you the satisfaction you expected from me; for as to that brother you inquire of, I have not certainly any account to give you of him, nay, which is more, I never knew him. But I may haply have somewhat to acquaint you with concerning some other persons of your house, who were no less dear to you, and whom I have heretofore familiarly seen and conversed with in this City, before the ruin of Anthony, and Queen Cleopatra. And that you may be the sooner convinced, observe well my face, and see, whether, notwithstanding the change which ten years may have wrought in it, you can find some features like to those of that person, who was brought up with you, and whom you dearly loved. I have been heretofore flattered by some with that resemblance, and know not whether you have preserved the Idea of it so well, as to find there is yet something left of it.  
These words raised no small astonishment in the children of Anthony, and Alexander coming up close to Caesario, who was purposely got near the torches, Cleopatra and he looked on him a long time with much earnestness. It was about the tenth year of their age that Caesario departed from Alexandria, and about the fourteenth of his own, so that, by reason, as well of the infancy of Alexander and Cleopatra, as the alteration, which (more remarkably then in any other degree of man's age) happens in the countenances of men between that of fourteen, and that of four and twenty, which was then the age of Caesario, it might well happen, that the Princess, and the Prince her Brother, could not, upon the first sight, discover the face of their Brother, in that of Cleomedon, whose speech, proportionably to the rest, was altered, by growing bigger since their separation. Yet was not all this alteration so great, nor their memories so weak, but that after what Cleomedon had said, and the particular observation which he had obliged them to make; they would have known the Prince, had they not been carried away with the general opinion, that he had departed this world. Nay, after they had well considered his face, they, in a manner, knew him; but that discovery had no further effect on them, then to force out certain sighs; whereupon the Princess Cleopatra, assuming the discourse after she had looked on Alexander, to see whether he was of the same opinion: I must needs acknowledge, said she to the Prince, that I find abundance of resemblance between your countenance, and that of a Prince, with whom my Brother and myself were brought up; and one that might have been much about your age, if the gods had thought fit to have continued him in life and health, and to preserve him against those powers, by which he received an untimely death.  
I am also very much satisfied, added Prince Alexander, that if our Brother Caesario were living, he might be very like the brave Cleomedon. And though that from the age of fourteen years, which was that of Caesario, when he died, to that of Cleomedon, which seems to be greater by nine or ten years, there happens more alteration, both in the bulk and countenances of men, then in all man's life besides, and that it might be withal granted, that time may in some measure have worn away, out of our memories, those Ideas, which cannot be expected otherwise then imperfect in the minds of children, such as we were then; yet can I not call them to my remembrance, without a certain conceit that I find them again in Cleomedon, and imagining to my ●elf, that, if Caesario were now alive, there would be a very great resemblance between them. Nay, I am much inclined to believe, from the great hopes that were conceived of him, and the glorious blood that ran in his veins, derived from illustrious ancestors, that this resemblance might have reached to the greatness of courage, and that he would have thought it a dishonour to come too far short of that stupendious man, whom it was his glory to imitate in all things.  
The modesty of the son of Caesar, made him blush at these obliging expressions of the son of Anthony; whereupon, looking on him with a smiling countenance, It is but just indeed I should suffer any thing, said he to him, from a Prince to whom I am obliged for an assistance that preserved my life. But since you and the Princess Cleopatra are pleased to flatter me so pleasantly, with so advantageous a resemblance, I must in requital assure you, that it is yet greater in all things than you imagine it, and that I am not only, as to my inclinations, comparable to Prince Caesario, but also that my fortunes have been absolutely suitable to his. I should put you to some astonishment, should I tell you, that, as he, so I was dearly loved by Alexander and Cleopatra in their younger years, That I was loved as tenderly as he was by the Queen your mother, and that her indulgence towards me was as great as what she expressed towards him; that as he, so I also left you to seek out my safety in Ethiopia, after the downfall of your house; That I was born as well as he of an unfortunate Queen, and am son to the greatest that ever was of mankind; and, in a word, I am so extremely like him, that I might even in Alexandria presume to own the name of Caesario, if by such an acknowledgement I should not put you to the hazard of losing him once again.  
These words of Caesario raised such a distraction in the souls of Cleopatra and Alexander, that neither of them being able to comprehend any thing of it, could do no more than look on him that had spoke them, with a silence which argued their astonishment, much more than any verbal expressions could have done. The son of Caesar had suffered them to continue a while in that posture, when he sees Eteocles coming, in whom he had caused Clitia to call from the Terrace, where he had left him. Whereupon, reassuming the discourse with an action which held the Brother and the Sister equally in suspense; That you may be absolutely satisfied, said he to them, that my fortunes have been in all things conformable to those of Caesario, behold the man that brought me up, and who presumes that he hath been of the same name, was of the same Birth, same Country, and same countenance as the Governor of Caesario. If you look on him with more earnestness than you have done for some days past, when he was with you in that very house where I received your assistances, you will easily observe that resemblance, and he is a person of such an age, as wherein ten years cannot make so great an alteration, as they may in that wherein one passes from infancy to a more advanced age.  
While he thus spoke, the eyes of Cleopatra and Alexander were fixed on the countenance of Eteocles, and it being very certain that it had undergone much less alteration then that of the Prince, they immediately found therein all the features of that of Et●●●le, with whom they had sometime been so familiar, as having been one that had carried them thousands of times in his arms, and had been brought up in the house, as son to the faithful Apollodorus, the dear favourite and confident of Queen Cleopatra. Whereupon both the Prince and Princess cried out, that it was really Eteocles, and immediately turning to the Prince with an astonishment much greater then what they were in before, by reason of this last circumstance: Cleomedon, said the Princess to him, for heaven's sake, keep us not any longer in the disturbance which you have raised in us, and let us know that Caesario is living, to tell us so much himself. 'tis only his death that abates that confidence which we raise from all the other circumstances, and if Caesario were living, I should be immediately satisfied that you were he.  
Should he discover himself to be Caesario, in any place that is under the jurisdiction of Augustus, replied the Princess, there is so little expectation of any Fortune thereby, that i● were hard to suspect such a confession subject to any imposture: but it is withal a th●●g so glorious to be born of Caesar and Cleopatra, that without an excess of baseness, a man cannot disclaim it, and there is so much satisfaction to Caesario, to meet with a Brother and Sister, great and amiable as Alexander and Cleopatra, that no consideration in the World can oblige him any longer to conceal from them, a brother they have dearly loved, and one that hath continued towards them the tender affection he ever had for them.  
With these words, he came near Cleopatra, with his arms stretched out, and that fair Princess soon satisfied those that were present, that she knew him to be her brother, by receiving from him, and returning him those caresses which never had passed between her and any, but those that were of that near relation. Alexander also received and returned the like, by the command of Elisa and Candace, whose presence obliged them to a greater reservedness. But, notwithstanding all that blood might persuade the children of Anthony to, and the joy it must needs be to them to meet with a lost brother, in the person of so great a man as Cleomedon, yet was not all enough to dispel their astonishment, and this adventure seemed to be so great, and so full of miracle, that to be fully satisfied, it was but necessary they had the assistance of Candace, Elisa and Eteocles, who very freely acquainted them with the secret of Caesario's life: for as to the great actions he had done under the name of Cleomedon, they were in some measure known to Alexander, and absolutely to Cleopatra, by the relation which Candace had made thereof to her.  
When they were fully convinced of these truths, their joy discovered itself by all the effects it could produce in moderate and affectionate dispositions, as theirs were; and it had not haply been greater, though they had seen this very brother returning in that pomp and magnificence, which he might have hoped from his former fortune, when, even in his infancy he had been proclaimed King of Kings, by the commands of Anthony, and Queen Cleopatra. Then was it that Cleopatra, notwithstanding all her reservedness and modesty, could not forbear entertaining so great a brother with embraces fit to be envied by all men; and that Alexander expressed the agitations of his heart, by the most earnest demonstrations, that a sincere affection could produce in a noble soul as his was.  
It was also during these pleasant intervals that the fair daughter of Anthony, giving thousands of kisses to the Queen of Ethiopia, gave her infinite thanks, with tears, which the excess of joy & affection drew from her fair eyes, for his preservation, and for the present she made of her so great a brother, and thence took occasion to celebrate her generosity, and the extraordinary goodness she had expressed, in bestowing her precious affections on a Prince whom fortune had not left any thing she could have taken away from him, and rasing him up to a Crown whereby he might recover himself into the dignity of his Fathers. What, said Alexander, is that invincible Cleomedon, who gained so many battles in Nubia, and whose reputation, notwithstanding the interposition of so many Provinces, eclipsed the glory of our most famous Captains, no other than the same Caesario, on whom, in our in fancy, we had bestowed so many tears, and in that dead Brother, do we recover again a Brother, whose glory may darken that of his Father?  
When the first demonstrations of this happy reacquaintance were over, they all joined together in a more moderate conversation; so that Artaban taking occasion to express his concernments in the joy of Cleopatra's children, no less then if he had been of the same Blood, made them consider with a certain admiration, that character of greatness, which the gods had put upon him. They thought it no ill course to moderate the discoveries of their joy, out of a fear the cause might come to be known; which if it should happen, it could not be without bringing Caesario's life into imminent danger. And considering withal that the night was in a manner quite spent, and that such long sit up might, in time, raise some suspicions, the desire which the Princess Cleopatra and Alexander had to enjoy yet for some longer time, that happy reacquaintance, and that which Caesario had to understand the fortunes of Cleopatra, whereof he had but an imperfect account, were not so great, but that, though not without some violence done to themselves, they appointed it to be the entertainment of the night following, those that were concerned in the safety of Caesario, thinking it not so safe to trust it to the day.  
They parted therefore, though with much unwillingness, and Alexander and Cleopatra were extremely troubled that the son of Caesar should take his retreat, in a loan house not much frequented, which Eteocles had provided for him in one of the most solitary skirts of Alexandria, as conceiving there would be less notice taken of his going in and out there, then in that of Tidaeus' without the City, where he had spent some days before.  
But before they parted, Artaban and Caesario confirmed the reconciliation they had made, by words full of the greatest expressions of a real friendship, and reciprocally promised one one another all the assistances, which according to the posture of their fortunes, they should be able to afford one the other. The two Princesses they served, were extremely satisfied thereat, and when they were alone, the Daughter of Anthony passing to her own lodgings, they went into their beds, to crown the extraordinary accidents of that day with a pleasant rest.  
The end of the Third Book.   

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA; OR Loves Masterpiece. Part. X.  
LIB. IV.  
ARGUMENT.  
●olusius coming in wounded into Alexandria, is entertained by Cornelius, and, upon his entreaty, brought to Marcellus and Cleopatra, whom he entertains with his own History. The noble deportment of Coriolanus towards him after his defeat, his honourable dismission from Mauritania, and his ungrateful resentments of such extraordinary civilities. He is overtaken by Theocles, a discontented Noble man of that country, and with him enters into a conspiracy to do Coriolanus all the mischief they can. Volusius, not daring to come to Rome, as having exasperated the Emperor against him, by the loss of Mauritania, makes friends to Tiberius, who, (being an enemy to Coriolanus, and Servant to Cleopatra) undertakes his readmission into Caesar's favour, with promises of readvancement. Theocles is drawn in to personate an Embassy from Coriolanus, to Augustus, for the obtaining of Julia, so to make a difference between Coriolanus, and his friend Marcellus and Cleopatra; which proves in some measure effectual. Volusius, slighted by Tiberius; falls into contempt, and sickness, which having recovered, he leaves Rome, and, some time after, meets with Tiberius at Brundisium, whom he puts in mind of his former promises, and goes along with him and Theocles for Alexandria. They, conceiving some jealousy of him, plot his death, which is attempted by Theocles and his men, but he is rescued by an unknown person, who having killed Theocles, and delivered him, proves to be Coriolanus, whom he acquaints with what he had done against him. Marcellus and Cleopatra are extremely glad and troubled at the relation of Volusius and Marcellus extremely grieved for the injuries he had done Coriolanus, goes to seek him out, resolved not to return till he had found him.  
THe fortunate meeting with a Brother, such as Caesario was, had raised in the Princess Cleopatra such a satisfaction, as, since the imaginary infidelity of Coriolanus, she had not been campable of, whence it came, that she passed over that night with more delight, and took more rest than the precedent. Now, as the best part of the night was spent ere she lay down, so was it accordingly very late ere she awoke in the morning, insomuch that those who knew not any thing of her long sitting up, would not have little wondered she had slept so long, had they not imagined that the trouble and hardship she had gone through, for some days before, might require a more than ordinary repose.  
'Tis a common observation, that, it is ordinarily at our waking in the morning, we make the most natural reflections on the conditions and accidents of our lives. She accordingly had no sooner opened her eyes but the Idea of her late adventures presented itself to her remembrance, and as she was of an excellent good nature, so that sympathy which her meeting with Caesario had raised in her mind, was the first effect that was produced there. Her thoughts were, with no small satisfaction, taken up with that fortunate rencontre, as looking on it as a thing extremely advantageous, to find a Brother, whom she thought dead so many years before, changed into a Brother so great, so amiable, and so considerable, as well for his virtue, as the greatness of his actions. She reflected on the noble accidents of his life, the strange Fortunes she had run through, and fixed her consideration on the present posture of his affairs, which in all probability was such as promised him a safe harbour, against all those tempests whereby he had been tossed up and down for the space of so many years, and seemed to be an establishment, such as gave him not any occasion to envy that of his Ancestors. The consideration of her Brother's concernments had that effection her which it might be expected they might have on the best sister in the world, and struck her thoughts with so much delight, that for some time she could hardly make any reflection on her own: but at last she could not keep them off any longer, but they must needs do a violence to her memory, and the Idea of her unfortunate Coriolanus presented itself to her in the same posture as she had seen him the day before. Her first imaginations represented him to her in that terrible posture, wherein he had forced out of the vessel those that fought for her deliverance: but there being not so much satisfaction in this, as in the reflection on the other accidents that succeeded it, she soon quitted it, and imagined to herself a sight of the Prince in that mortal surprise wherein he was upon his first knowledge of her, and fell into a swound upon the deck; as also in that undaunted posture wherein he had defied the King of Armenia, and was engaged himself alone against so great a number of Enemies; and lastly, she thought on him in that submissive posture, whereinto he had put himself before her and Marcellus, to clear his innocency. 'Twas upon this last reflection that she fastened her thoughts more than any, as desiring not so much any assurances of the valour of Coriolanus (whereof she had sufficient experience) as of his innocency, whereof she had been so long in doubt and whereof either the certainty or uncertainty occasioned all the happiness or unhappiness of her life. She had so well engraven in her memory all the words which fell from that poor Prince, that, notwithstanding the disturbance she had been in, while he had spoken them, there had not so much as one sliped out of her remembrance. And finding them all very pregnant and full of conviction, it was a certain imaginary pleasure to her to be in a manner persuaded, that it must needs be innocence and truth that put them into the mouth of that Prince, to convince her of that error, wherein she had passed over so many sad days. Alas! with what satisfaction, and with what tenderness did she repeat them over and over, and how did she make it her main business to heighten those circumstances that any way made for him) All indeed were very strong for him, from the time that she first opened her eyes to truth, and the discoveries of that pretended infidelity; and she could not but acknowledge her credulity, in having too easily been persuaded to a belief of things, that were contrary to reason and common sense. She could not find the least favourable imagination to persuade her that Coriolanus should fall in love with Julia, being then absent from her, when, even in her presence, and during the time that she expressed a great affection towards him, he had ever slighted her, and that the Prince should so much court the friendship of Augustus, she thought yet more improbable, and that he should proffer himself to be tributary to him, when he had by open hostility recovered a powerful Monarchy; when he had refused the same friendship, at a time when he was not master of any thing but his sword, and could not expect any thing but by his means and assistance. She called to mind in what terms he had vindicated himself with so much apparent reason, and found so much eviction in all, that there needed not much▪ absolutely to justify him in her apprehesion.  
During these pleasant intervals she opened her soul to give admission to that joy, which, of a long time before, could never have the least entertainment there, but it was at the same time very much abated, by a cold reflection on the miserable condition, to which that Prince was reduced, as having lost the Kingdoms he had conquered, and being deprived of all support and relief in the world, through her inflexibility towards him. These reflections, equally divided between grief and joy, drew many a sigh out of her breast, and this was the entertainment of her thoughts▪ all the time she lay in bed after her awaking, and while she was dressing.  
She was just upon the point of going out of her chamber, to go into that of Candace's (whom she now looked on as a Sister to whom she was engaged for life and fortunes of her Brother, and who, as well as the Princess of the Parthians, had lain longer in bed then she had) when Prince Marcellus comes to give her a good morrow. Cleopatra entertained him as a beloved Brother, but what confidence soever she might have of his prudence and generosity, yet did she not think it fit to trust him with the secret of another, though she had with her own, and so made not the least mention to him of Caesario, though she had not the least jealousy, that any consideration whatsoever might induce Marcellus to do him any ill office. This Prince, after the first civilities were passed, being sat down by her; Sister, said he to her, I am to acknowledge to you, that during all this night, the Idea of th● disconsolate Coriolanus never forsook me, and that I have spent the greatest part of it in finding out, as well in his actions, as his words, an innocency whereof I am more than half convinced. This Prince, who was sometime so dear to me, and whom it is not yet in my power to hate, comes and engages my heart with the same arms, whereby he had so well mastered it before, and methinks I find again, not only in his countenance, but also in his words and all his actions, that greatness of soul which we ever observed in him, and withal that confidence which never appears where there is a certainty of crime; and of all this I am so much assured, that I cannot, without an extraordinary violence, be persuaded, he hath been really unfaithful towards us.  
Cleopatra, in whom whatever were favourable to Coriolanus had already taken place, could not hear this discourse of Marcellas, without being moved to so much compassion, that a beautiful dew began to break forth at her eyes. Whereupon, having continued silent for some minutes, in such a suspense as easily discovered the disturbance she then struggled with; Brother, said she to Marcellus, the acknowledgement you have made to me, is such, that I conceive myself obliged to let you know, that my reflections have been absolutely conformable to yours, and that I find so many demonstrations of innocence in all the procedure of Coriolanus, and so much reason to fortify what he would have persuaded us to, that the opinion we had conceived of his infidelity, hath now with much ado any probability with us. Coriolanus, added the Prince, cannot be justifiable in your apprehensions, but he must be so in mine too, and as we charge him both but with one and the the same crime, wherein we are both equally concerned, so can he not be innocent as to what relates to you, but he must be so too as to what relates to Marcellus. Ah Sister! if this fall out to be true, what remorse shall I not feel within me while I live, for being so ready to hate a Prince so worthy the affection I had for him, and one, that, notwithstanding the cruel discoveries of my hatred seems to have continued his inclinations towards me? What reparations am I not obliged to make him, if he be innocent, or rather; what blood can wash off the crime I have committed against him?  
Cleopatra was going to make the Prince some reply, and their conversation might haply have been more earnest and tender, as being engaged upon a subject wherein both thought themselves much concerned, when Cornelius comes into the room, and drew near them with a countenance, intimating that he had something of news to acquaint them with. After the ordinary salutations passed between them, I am very glad, said he to them, that I have found you together, for I have charged myself with a request that is made to you both, which is, that you will be pleased to grant an hour of private audience to a certain man I have left in the outer-room, and one whom the sad condition he is in might well have dispensed from coming hither, if the things he hath to acquaint you with, were not of very great consequence.  
This discourse of Cornelius made Cleopatra look on Marcellus, as it were to ask his advice, and Marcellus by another look seeming to leave it to her what answer to make, she told him, that he might bring in what persons he thought fit, and that the Prince her Brother and herself should very readily afford him the audience he desired of them. Upon these words Cornelius went out of the room, leaving the Prince and Princess in some impatience, and withal some disturbance at the adventure; and not long after, he returns leading a man whom he helped to walk, and one that seemed brought very low through sickness, or by reason of some wounds.  
Cleopatra and Marcellus knew not, upon the first appearance, who it might be; but afterwards, having looked a little more earnestly on his countenance, they, without much difficulty, knew him to be Volusius, who had sometime been Praetor of Maritania, before it had been recovered from him by Coriolanus, the son of Juba, whom that Prince had generously sent back, after he had overcome and taken him Prisoner, and who, upon his coming to Rome, had ruined the fortunes of that Prince, as to Cleopatra, by acquainting that Princess, Marcellus and all Caesar's Court, with the pretended infidelity of Coriolanus, and the design he had for Julia, and presenting to the Emperor a person of eminent quality, very considerable in Mauritania; who gave out that he was come thence express upon that negotiation. Marcellus was a little astonished at the sight of the man, whose mischievous reports had brought him to very sad extremities: but the Princess was put into such a disturbance upon the return of a man, who had been the destruction of all her happiness and enjoyments, that, having not the power to rise off the chair whereon she sat, though she should in civility have done it, out of a consideration of the qualities of Cornelius and Volusius, she fate still, as it were in a strange suspense and disorder.  
Volusius took very much notice of her deportment, and the perplexity she was in; but being well acquainted with the occasion of it, he was not at all astonished thereat, and thereupon taking a chair, by the order of Marcellus, who was sensible of his indisposition, and during the trouble Cleopatra was in, thought fit to do the civilities of her chamber, he made a sign to Cornelius, whereupon, knowing his meaning, he went out of the chamber, to give them the greater privacy, and withal thought it not amiss to divert the visits of Elisa, Candace, and other persons that otherwise might have disturbed their conversation▪ Volusius, being such a condition, as required some rest, continued silent for some time, though Cleopatra and Marcellus seemed to be in expectation of what he had to say to them. But at last having prepared himself to speak, and seeing about the Princess only Camilla, who had obliged the rest of the women to withdraw into the closet, and who might be admitted to hear the discourse he was to make; Madam, said he, speaking to the Princess, I should speak to you and to Prince Marcellus in another posture, then that I am now in, and coming to make an acknowledgement of the crime I have committed against you, I should cast myself at your feet, to beg a pardon from you, which I neither hope nor deserve to obtain, were I not disabled by two wounds I have about me, such as have hardly left me the strength to come to you, and which will prove, for aught I know, a certain revenge for the injury I have done you. Only my remorse, and the promise I have made to do it, force me to discover to you things that ought rather to be concealed from all the World; and though I must introduce into my discourse, persons, whose power is much to be feared; yet shall I not forbear, since that in a few days, I shall either be in a condition not to fear it. or if the gods think good to continue my life, I am more willing to see it exposed to some danger by my confession, then be perpetually persecuted withremorses which make it much more insupportable to me. Be pleased to afford me your attention to the discourse I have to make to you, and it is my earnest prayer to the gods, that it may in some measure repair the mischief I have done, and restore that happiness and fortune which I have unfortunately disturbed. To this effect was the discourse of Volusius and, perceiving, that, instead of making any answer, Cleopatra and Marcellus harkened very attentively to him, he reassumed the discourse in these terms.  

The History of VOLUSIUS.  
WE are satisfied by experience, that both the remembrance, of good turns, and that of injuries, have a different operation, according to the different character of those souls where they are entertained, and that, as there are some minds wherein offences make but a very light impression, much lighter than that which good offices might make in them, so, on the other side, there are some, in whom the greatest benefits cannot smother the least injuries, or to say better, who, not much sensible of obligations said upon them, have nevertheless eternal resentments for injuries. That I have been worsted and disgraced by Prince Coriolanus, I must attribute it merely to his valour and my own unhappiness, and that I was nobly treated by him, it was the effect of his pure generosity: and yet the impression of the injury filled my soul in such manner, that it leaves not any place for that which the generous entertainment should have had there, and opposed the resentment it should have conceived thereof, that so I might be the more absolutely hurried into contrary resolutions.  
I doubt not, Madam, but you have heard, how that, having been several times defeated in the persons of my Lieutenants, I was at last overthrown in my own, and, through the valour of the son of Juba, having lost a battle, which in all probability I should have gained, I was by the same valour cast to the ground, and taken prisoner. You have also further understood, how that after some day's imprisonment, such as was sweetened by all the kind entertainments which I could have received from a brother, or the best friend I had, the same Prince, whom, by all manner of injuries I had obliged to treat me with cruelty, forgetting all, out of an admirable generosity, and comforting me in my disgrace with the most obliging words could fall from man, gave me my liberty without any condition, loaded me with presents of great value, and furnished me with ships and men to bring me to Rome, or any other place where I would myself. It might in all probability be expected, I should have been sensible of this treatment, as much as I had been of my misfortune; but having, through my disgrace, besides the fame I might have acquired in my former years, lost the government of two great Kingdoms, (a very high fortune for a private man) and the hope of finding again among the Romans an establishment comparable to that I had lost, the grief I conceived thereat, had so cankered my soul, that I was not able to entertain those expressions of the goodness and clemency of the King of Mauritania, with the least discover of gratitude. However I pretended to be extremely sensible thereof, as I ought to have been, of a favour I should not have expected, and I received, with my liberty, the other effects of the magnificence of that Prince, with those demonstrations which might well persuade him that I was not insensible thereof. I went a-board with a soul half burst with grief, and I carried with me into the sea an affliction grown so violent, through the change of my fortune, that there was nothing able to afford me any satisfaction. And yet I am apt to imagine that my grief would have been satisfied in being only a torment to myself, without producing any effect prejudicial to the fortune of my Conqueror, if something of chance, and the solicitations of other persons had not furnished me with the occasions to do it, and that at a time wherein my sufferings were not aggravated by any design of revenge.  
The third day after my departure, I was overtaken by a Vessel; that came after me from Mauritania, and he that was Commander of it being come aboard mine, to give me a visit, was known to me, to be a person of very great quality among the Moors, named Theocles, whose Father had had under King Juba, the Father of Coriolanus, the greatest places in the Kingdom, and the governments of greatest importance. But it happening upon the death of King Juba, that Theocles revolted to the Romans, and sided very particularly with me, as having not the least remainder of love for the Royal blood, and that further he had expected till the issue of the war, without declaring himself for his Prince, as the greatest part of the Moors had done, young Juba, coming to the Throne, had accordingly slighted him, though he had not any way disobliged him, nor taken away any thing he was possessed of, and in the distribution of the Governments & charges which he bestowed on those whom he thought most worthy, and had expressed most affection towards him, he conceived himself not at all engaged to prefer Theocles, whose pretensions were great, suitably to his quality, and the high rank his Father had lived in before him.  
Theocles, thinking himself hardly dealt with, and taking it very impatiently that his sovereign should prefer other persons before him, such indeed as were inferior to him in birth, but much more considerable than he, by their services & their fidelity to their Prince, would needs leave Mauritania, and lurk among the Enemies of his King, and bring over with him among the Romans his resentments and desire of revenge. So that having taken ship the same day that I departed, the third after, he comes up to me, and coming out of his own Vessel into mine, he gave me a visset, making the greatest expressions he could of the affection he had for me. Now this man being he that of all the Moors I had held the greatest correspondence with, and his discontents being not unknown to me, I was extremely glad to meet with him, and having understood from him, that the resentments he had against his Prince were the occasion why he left the Country to follow me, and to go along with me to Rome, this consonancy of thoughts made me the more confident of him, and raised in me a certain affection for him, and engaged me to promise him all the friendship and assistance, amongst the Romans, that I could possibly help him to.  
Thus resolved, we continued our voyage together, and in the same Vessel; though we made his to follow us, and that very day Theocles acquainted me at large with all I knew not, that related to his affairs, and disburdened himself of all that lay upon his heart; but with so much aggravation and animosity against his Prince, that, though I were really his Enemy, and well pleased to meet with a man that loved him not, yet could I not in my Soul approve the procedure of his Subject, and that one that had no ground given him of discontent. However, I dissembled the apprehension I had of it, as thinking it not amiss to encourage him in that exasperation, against a man I loved not: and so mutually communicating our resentments one to another we kept on our voyage, and, having very good weather, came at last to Brundisium, where we landed. Here it was that I thought fit to make some abode, to make some discovery what posture my affairs were in at Rome; and knowing well enough that the loss of Mauritania happened partly through my fault, as having not only by tyranny and misgovernment, but also by the liberty I had given the Soldiers to do them thousands of injuries, given the Moors occasion to rise in the behalf of their Prince, and partly by reason of my neglect of preventing that revolt in the first eruptions thereof, and, by that negligence, given Coriolanus leisure to fortify, and put himself into a condition to reascend the Throne, which he would have sound very much difficulty to do, had I used all the diligence I ought to smother that evil at its first breaking forth; the Conscience I had of this truth troubled me extremely. By which put into a fear of the displeasure of Augustus, whom a loss so considerable as that of two great Kingdoms might very much exasperate against me, and not doubting but that there were a many persons about him both very ready, and very likely to do me any ill office, I thought it no prudence to to to Rome, till I had before been assured what I was either to hope or fear upon my coming thither.  
To that end I sent one of my men with Letters to those Friends whom I had at Rome, wherein I entreated them to send me word truly and without flattery how I stood in the favour of Caesar, and what entertainment I was to expect from him, after the misfortune that had happened to me. The Messenger got to Rome, and some few days after returned thence with some of my Friends; who came to see me at Brundisium, and these did not only heighten the distrust I was in before, but withal told me positively, that there was no coming for me to Rome, where I was extremely ill spoken of, till I had in some measure vindicated myself; that the Emperor was prepossessed with an opinion very disadvantageous to me; and that if I did not employ certain powerful persons that had much interest in him; there was not only very small hopes I should ever recover my former fortune, but they thought there was no great safety for my person, and accordingly advised me, till the tempest were laid by some persons I should employ to do it, to continue at Brundisium, where I had the advantage of the sea if I should be put to any extremity.  
This discourse, made to me by persons whom I could not any way suspect, and whose Friendship I had great experiences of, put me to more than ordinary distractions, insomuch that I resolved not to leave Brundisium, or look at Rome, till the Emperor's indignation were appeased. To effect that, I writ a large Manifesto, in order to my justification, wherein I laid down all the reasons that made any way for me, and endeavoured to elude all accusations that were put up against me, and having delivered it to my Friends they returned to Rome to set on work all those persons who we were in hopes might prevail any thing with Caesar, and those such as had most power and authority with him. I durst not expect any thing from either Octavia or Marcellus, as being not ignorant that there had ever been a very great friendship between that Prince and the King of Mauritania. I had as little confidence of the mediation of Agrippa, whom I had ever observed an enemy to those Governors, who by their miscarriages had exasperated the nations they were to govern against them, and so thought it my only course to address myself to Livia and Tiberius who had ever been enemies to Coriolanus, and whose interest with Caesar was not inferior to that of any other whatsoever.  
I thereupon imagined, that my Friends, by the means of Tiberius, might set the Empress on work who could do any thing with Augustus, and it was altogether that way that I advised them to use their utmost endeavours. They departed in order to the design, and I remained still at Brundisium very much disquicted endeavouring what I could to shake off my affliction by the company of Theocles, who would needs stay there with me, and expressed a very great engagement in my concernments. Some days were passed since the departure of my Friends, when one of them returns to me, to assure me, that he had not only managed the business with much success with Tiberius, and had disposed him to engage the Empress, his Mother, to endeavour my justification; but also, that that Prince, after he had with much satisfaction embraced the occasion to do me any favour, had sent, him to dispatch me from Brundisium, and to bring me privately to a house that belonged to a Friend of Tiberius', in the midway between Rome and Brundisium, where I should meet with Tiberius himself, and where he would discourse with me more freely concerning the state of my affairs, and express the carnestness he had to serve me therein. I received this news with no small satisfaction, and though I could not but attribute this eartiestness of Tiberius to his envy against Coriolanus, much more than to any Friendship he might have for me, yet must I needs embrace this occasion of recovering myself very seriously, never examining out of what motive it might proceed.  
I left Brundisium in the night, accompanied by Theocles, who would by all means go along with me, giving out that I went another way quite different from that which I took, nay to make it the more credible sent some part of my equipage that way, lest it might have been discovered, that I had any interview with Tiberius, who had indeed sent me instructito that effect by my Friends. I came to Clunium, which is the name of that house, seated in a solitary place, such as a man might wish for a secret interview. Tiberius came thither the same day, having only a single person with him, and left Rome in the night, and that with so much secrecy that there was not the least notice taken of his departure. The condition I am in, and the desire I have not to abuse your attention, obliges me to contract my relation, and therefore, to be as brief as I can, I shall only tell you, that Tiberius, whose subtle wit bends itself to any thing it would be at, entertained me with extraordinary caresses, and very kindly received Theocles, after I had acquainted him with his quality, and the misunderstandings there were between him and Coriolanus. Whereupon, falling into discourse about my misfortune, he comforted me with the kindest expressions that could be, by instancing in many great persons to whom Fortune had been as malicious, and telling me, that I ought to have this satisfaction in my disgrace; that what discourses soever my enemies might raise against me, yet was there not any durst charge me with any want of courage or valour. Then did he express the infinite desires he had to serve me, and, to make my peace with Caesar, and restore me to my former favour and fortune, to employ not only the little interest that he had himself, but also that of the Empress his Mother, which, whatever people might talk, was far greater than either Agrippa's or Marcellus', telling me withal, that he was confident, upon the account of that Friendship which she had for him, that she would not only do what lay in her power, but that she would effectually prevail with Augustus to condescend to what she desired.  
I made answer to this discourse of Tiberius; and his noble proffers with all the discoveries of a kind resentment I could possibly give him, and after I had told him several times, that I had not deserved these demonstrations of his goodness, I made a protestation to him, that I would sacrifice the life and fortunes, which I should be obliged to him for, to serve him, and that no consideration in the world should make me quit his interests. After I had several times repeated this discourse to him; I do not doubt, said he to me, but that in a noble soul, the sense and acknowledgement you are to have of the service I am to do you, will produce the effect you promise me it shall; besides that there is some reason our interests should be joined together, since we have one common enemy that hath ruined our fortunes, and hath crossed all the happiness and enjoyments of my life, by all the obstacles he could lay in my way. I conceive you are not now to learn Volusius, what misfortunes have happened to me through the means of this African, who, not content to have disputed Cleopatra with me, upon the score of his own good Fortune rather than any other advantages, hath basely attempted my life, and almost reduced it to the last gasp by a wound he gave me at unawares. It is my business to be revenged on him, and I cannot do it better than by joining with you who are obliged to be his enemy; but, with my revenge, I seek the possession of Cleopatra, without whom life itself is unsupportable to me. I hope with your assistance, easily to compass both, and if you will do but what lies in your power to do, you may assure yourself that there shall not be any thing which I shall not both undertake and execute to give you satisfaction.  
This discourse of Tiberius, instead of putting me to any trouble, raised in me no small joy, by reason of the consormy which I found there was between his sentiments and mine at that time, and accordingly, returning him an answer, with a certain alacrity, whence he inferred how ready I was to do him any service that he should put me upon, My lord, said I to him, I shall think my happiness much greater than I could ever hope it would have been, if to the advantage which I expect from your protection, you add that which I ought to expect from any employment wherein I may serve you. For, though the Prince of Mauritania were not mine Enemy, yet so much am I engaged to your generosity, that there is not any thing which I shall not undertake to facilitate, both your revenge, and the possession you so much desire of the Princess Cleopatra. Be pleased therefore only to let me know how you will dispose of me in order thereto, and think me unworthy the assistances you promise me in my misfortune, if I endeavour not to merit them, by the earnestness I shall express in promoting your interests.  
Now, now is the time, replied Tiberius, and, as my affairs stand at the present, there is nothing can contribute more to my happiness, then to persuade the Princess Cleopatra, that Coriolanus hath forgotten her, now that he is gotten into the Throne, that matters of policy have stifled his affections, and that, to secure his acquests, he seeks other alliances than those of a ruined house, such as is that of Anthony, but these things must she be persuaded to by authentic proofs, and such circumstances as shall not leave her any thing to doubt of. As for the means how it may be done, I come to advise with you as a person whose testimony in this case she cannot mistrust, provided she hear nothing of our interview; and I find there is yet much less difficulty to effect it then I had at first imagined, by the account you have given me of the discontents of Theocles, his quality among the Moors, and the desire he hath to be revenged of Coriolanus. I can assure you, said I, interrupting him, that Theocles shall do any thing that we shall put him upon, and that he is so strangely exasperated against Coriolanus, that there is 〈…〉 consideration shall stave him from doing that Prince all the ill offices that li● 〈…〉 power.  
Tiberius' recollected himself a little upon this discourse; but at last rejoining to it; If what you say be true, replied he, I see an infallible expedient to do that effectually which I had projected. The design, at first sight, you will think requires much confidence, especially as to Theocles, whose assistance and agency in it is absolutely necessary; but when you look farther into it, you will find there's nothing of danger, and yet the action, as to us, shall be so meritorious, that all our house and relations shall perish, before you be exposed to any inconvenience, for having done me this service.  
Know then, that Coriolanus hath been sometime heretofore, very dearly loved by the Princess Julia, insomuch that it was the persuasion of many people that Coriolanus was not insensible of that affection. Marcellus himself grew not a little jealous of it, so for that it had almost made a breach in that Friendship which hath ever been so prejudicial to my affairs. When we have once facilitated your access to Caesar, and brought you into the same reputation with him as you were in before, you may represent to him, that Coriolanus hath not set you at Liberty, and treated you with such extraordinary endearments, but upon condition that you should do him all the favour you could with Caesar, in relation to the design he had to demand the Princess Julia, and present Theocles (whose rank and quality might well suit with an Embassy, to him as a person commissionated to that purpose. To that effect, Theocles in an equipage conformable to that employment, wherein there shall be nothing a wanting as to matter of expense, may address himself to Caesar, with credential Letters under the great seal of Mauritania, which it will not be hard to find at Rome, among those of divers other Kingdoms, that have been brought thither after their reduction into Roman Provinces, and propose unto him in the name of his King; That if, with the Peace which he should be desirous to have with him, he would also bestow on him the Princess Julia in marriage, he would submit to him, as all other tributary Kings did, and would take his Kingdoms as dependent of the Empire. This proposition must be made with all the solemnities requisite to so great an Embassy: and in regard we are at a great distance from Mauritania, so that there is not any commerce between us and that Country, and that as things stand at the present there's little hope we shall have any, it is impossible we should be discovered. And though it may be thought somewhat unlikely there should be so sudden a change, and so beyond all expectation, in the affections of Coriolanus, yet there happens daily things no less strange, which, notwithstanding their distance from probability, are yet neighbours to truth, and there will be those whom it will not be hard to persuade, that his Ambition hath made him forget his Love, and that in the condition he is now arrived to, desirous of a rest he never yet met with, he could no way better effect it than by making a peace, and courting the alliance of Caesar, of whom he might expect the former upon the conditions proposed, though he took him not into the latter. And we shall find it a matter of so much the less difficulty to make Cleopatra sensible of his infidelity, for that I have it from very good hands, that, since his departure, she hath not heard any thing from him, and that she hath already conceived no small jealousy of what we would persuade her to. By this intrigue, I shall not only turn that love which Cleopatra hath for Coriolanus, into a higher degree of aversion for him, which is the only rub that lies in my way to happiness: but I shall also dissolve that Friendship which Marcellus hath for him, by making him believe that Coriolanus, addressing himself to Julia, whom he loves, and looks on as designed for him, is no less perfidious to him then to Cleopatra. And by that means, I shall deprive our Enemy of a Friend, whose interest with Caesar hath hitherto been the greatest obstacle I have had to struggle with; and instead of those supplies which he secretly receives from him, and the good offices he daily does him with Cleopatra, he will have the greatest indignation, and most irreconcilable hatred that can be against him. So that, to arrive to the felicity I aim at, and to make my revenge the more complete, I shall not be opposed either by the love of Cleopatra, or the Friendship of Marcellus, which will be both destroyed by an artifice that cannot be discovered in many years.  
I harkened with a great deal of patience to this discourse of Tiberius, and sound in it many things not easily digestible, as such as must needs bring us into many inconveniences; but I overcame the greatest part of the difficulties I should meet with, by the great desire I had to purchase his friendship and protection. Whereupon, assuming the discourse when he had given over speaking; My Lord, said I to him, though your design seems to carry in it much danger, and requires no small daringness in those that are employed in it, yet all must be hazarded to serve you, and we shall not be discouraged by any considerations whatsoever from effecting your satisfaction. But I shall take the boldness to propose it to you, whether it were not fitter to demand some other person rather than Julia, so not to draw on you the displeasure and interest of Marcellus, whom we must visibly engage against us, by demanding of Caesar a person whom he is in love with, and that is designed for him. By this demand, replies Tiberius, we break the friendship that is between Marcellus and Coriolanus, which it concerns me most of any thing I do; But we do not thereby any way injure Marcellus, and you do not run the hazard of encuring his displeasure, though you may well be assured that your party shall not be weaker than his, after the union of our interests, & considering what you may expect from our house) for, as it is not hard for you to imagine, there is little likelihood that this personated Embassy of Theocles from Coriolanus, should any way prejudice Marcellus, or that Caesar should prefer the alliance of that African, his Enemy, before that of his Nephew, whom he loves no less than if he were his own Son, and designs to be his successor. No doubt, all he will do, will be to laugh at the extravagance of Juba's demand, but though the effect it will have upon him, will signify nothing, in Cleopatra and Marcellus, it will do all that I expect it should: so that I am in some hopes to enjoy Cleopatra long before the truth be discovered. And if ever it should come to light, I promise you, that through the power of the Empress, who will be absolutely for us, we shall reconcile all, it being to be performed that the Emperor will not be much displeased at an artifice, which hath no design in it, but that of assuring me of the enjoyment of Cleopatra, and is not prejudicial to any but his greatest Enemy.  
To these, Tiberius added a many other reasons to encourage me to engage in his design, so that there needed not much to inflame the disposition I was already in to serve him, into a resolution to do any thing he would have me, and by his own natural eloquence, and the inclination I had of myself to be persuaded, he took off all the difficulties I could make to myself when he first made his proposition to me.  
After I had reiterated the protestation I had made to him, we called Theocles, to whom Tiberius repeated all those things he had said to me, and without any difficulty brought him to a resolution to undertake any thing, which he the sooner was persuaded to, as well by reason he was naturally mischievous, and revengeful, but withal very indiscreet and inconsiderate, as by the hopes he was put into by Tiberius, of great fortunes and assistances among the Romans. At last he resolved to endeavour any thing should be proposed to him, and made no difficulty to personate the Ambassador of his King, and to take all his instructions from Tiberius. We stayed together all that day, and the best part of the night, to take all the order requisite in our design, and when we had settled all things, and thought ourselves fully instructed, Tiberius departed from that house to go and endeavour my peace with Augustus; having desired us not to stir thence till we had heard from him; but with as much secrecy as might be, lest there should be any suspicion of our interview. We accordingly stayed there as he had ordered us, while in the mean time Tiberius, having made a full discovery of his design to the Empress, and represented to her, that all the happiness of his life consisted in the hope he was in to enjoy the Princess Cleopatra. Livia, who had a very great tenderness for him, after some few difficulties were satisfied, engaged in our design upon you, and promised him all the assistances she could afford him to effect it. He thought it not fit to make the least discovery of it to his Brother Drusus, as knowing him to be a Prince of a candid and open disposition, and consequently would not have approved those artifices, so that all the persons acquainted with, and concerned in our plot, were only Livia, Tiberius, Theocles, and myself. For as to the persons we were to make use of, we easily persuaded them to what we would have had all others to believe. Livia solicited my readmission into the Emperor's favour with so much success, that she soon dispelled those clouds of reproaches and accusations which my adversaries had raised against me; and yet so ordered all things, that Tiberius was not any way suspected to have any hand in it, pretending, that what she did, was upon the importunity of some of my friends, who were persons of very considerable quality in Rome. So that as soon as Tiberius understood that I might have access to the Emperor, he sent to me by a trusty person, even the very same that had accompanied him in the interview, that I should come to Rome, and without any fear prepare myself to put in execution what we had undertaken. We departed thence, Theocles, and myself, and got thither much about the same time as our retinue and equipage, which we had sent for to Brundisium; but before I presented myself to Caesar, we had another secret conference with Tiberius, and having understood from him how strong our party was, by reason of the Empresses being of it, he further acquainted us, how that he had in his hands the great seal of the Kings of Mauritania, and the order he had taken for the liveries of the Ambassadors, and for all other things that were requisite to our design. The next day, I waited on the Emperor, who, suitably to the hopes that Tiberius had put me into, entertained me with abundance of courtesy, imputing my unhappiness to fortune only, and seeming to be satisfied with the reasons which had been given him in order to my justification. And though he discovered nothing so much in his discourse, as the violent aversion he had for Coriolanus, yet did I still give him the greatest commendations imaginable, celebrating his valour, and acknowledging the extraordinary civilities I had received from him, in such terms as easily discovered that I was far from being his Enemy. For thus had Tiberius and myself ordered the business to be carried, it being resolved that Theocles and I should speak well of him every where, so to take off all suspicion men might conceive of any evil design that we might have against him. The first time I was brought to the Emperor, I gave him only an account of my own affairs, as also of those of Mauritania; but in the second audience I had, which was when all things were ready and ripe for Tiberius' design, I had some discourse with him about Theocles' commission, and demanded audience for him.  
But here Madam, and you my Lord, continued Volusius, looking on Cleopatra and Marcellus, I am now come to that part of my relation, which, being to give you an account of things you are but too well acquainted with already, will accordingly be troublesome to you. For you know as well as myself how we were entertained by Caesar, as also with what contempt he looked on the Embassy of Theocles, & in a word, all the particular circumstances of our negotiation. You also best know what influence our design had upon yourselves, in some measure answering the expectations of Tiberius; yet so, Madam, as that, to his misfortune and my unhappiness, he made not that advantage thereof he was in hope it might have produced, since that though you ceased to love a Prince whom you conceived inconstant to you, yet did it not occasion the least change in you as to what thoughts you had of Tiberius; nay, on the contrary, the aversion you had had for him, seemed to be far greater than it was before, upon this accident.  
At this passage Volusius made a little stop, as if he had gone through the first part of his relation; and Marcellus perceiving, that the Princess, having summoned all the forces of her resolution and constancy, to keep up her spirits at this reiteration of her cruel afflictions, was, nevertheless, forced to give passage to certain tears, doing himself a little violence to avoid expressing the same weakness; It is but too true, said he to Volusius, that your barbarous combination produced effects but too deplorable, and that if the crafty Tiberius made no advantage of it, through the justice of the gods, who have ever a punishment for such treacherous designs; he drew nevertheless this satisfaction from it, that he filled our souls with a mortal grief, and that it did me more mischief than you expected it should, in regard of that strange influence it had on the disposition of the unconstant Julia, which it might have had on that of the generous Cleopatra. 'tis she, Volusius, whom you have not yet justified, though you have assured us of the fidelity of Coriolanus, and though Tiberius and yourself have overreached us to the prejudice of that poor Prince, who, you tell us, had not really so much as thought of Julia; yet hath that unmindful Princess appeared such upon that occasion as she had done upon divers others before, and the feigned expressions of the love and pretended design of Coriolanus, drew from her very earnest ones of the reflux of that affection which she had sometimes had for him. Ah my Lord, says Volusius, reassuming the discourse, entertain not any such thought, and assure yourself, if you dare credit a man acknowledging himself guilty of so great a cheat, that Julia hath shown herself upon this emergency, no less constant than Coriolanus, and that she entertained with abundance of contempt what we would have persuaded her to, as to the affection of Coriolanus. The gods are my witnesses that I have not in the least contributed to the occasions of your jealousy, but was told by Theocles, after he had received orders from the Emperor to leave Rome within some few days, that Tiberius, who had made him his absolute creature, and had promised him a secure refuge, though he saw him but very privately, and that in public he pretended not the least acquaintance with him, would needs, out of an extraordinary suggestion of malice, have him give you some occasion of jealousy, the more to inflame the resentment you might have against the King of Mauritania, This was to be done by the means of one of Julia's women, who, being corrupted by presents, was to give admittance two nights successively, into the lodgings of that Princess so to put you into an imagination that he had secret conferences with her. But he hath protested to me, with many imprecations, that he never saw the Princess, and that he had not spoken to any but that only woman, whose name is Acilia, if I mistake it not, with whom he had passed over several hours in the Princess' Wardrobe, & whence he never came but at such hours, as there must needs be notice taken of him.  
Cleopatra having wiped her eyes, looking on Marcellus with a very serious countenance, I know not, brother, said she to him, whether you dare trust me as far as you would Volusius. But if the late dissatisfactions which you have expressed yourself to be in as to Julia, proceed merely from those secret interviews which she hath been suspected to have had with Theocles, they are very unjust, and besides that the Princess coming to understand it after your departure, hath sufficiently cleared herself in my presence, as also by the acknowledgements of Marcelia and Antonia your Sisters, who spent those two nights with her, I can, for my own part, assure you, that during the representation of all this pretended infidelity of Coriolanus, she expressed nothing but a very great displeasure and indignation against him. I should have acquainted you with as much, had you not been gone from Rome without taking any leave from us, and must further let you know, that according to my apprehensions of it, you cannot any longer justly charge with lightness a Princess, who, in your absence, though she had reason to take it very much amiss, hath ever expressed a firm and faithful affection towards you. At these words of Cleopatra, Marcellus, who reposed no small confidence in any thing came from her, seemed to put on another countenance, and looking on her with an action, wherein she might discover the change they had wrought in his heart: Ah Sister, said he to her, how much does the assurance of a person such as you are, fortify that of Volusius, and what sufferings and afflictions had I avoided, if I had been acquainted with what I now hear from your mouth, and which I cannot but give credit to, by reason of the authority which you have over my belief, with as much confidence, as if I had it from the relation of Volusius. For my relation, replied Volusius, you have no more reason to suspect it as to this particular, than you do as to the other truths which you have received from me: and if you will but afford me your patient audience to the end, you you shall find, that, considering the interest which makes me speak, it is impossible I should entertain you with any thing but what is true. The Princess and the Prince having, upon those words, expressed their readiness to give him the attention he desired, he thereupon reassumed his discourse, whereof Marcellus harkened to the sequel with much more serenity of thoughts than he had done to the former part.  
When Tiberius first engaged me, with Theocles, to be instrumental in the cheat he had resolved to put upon you, my readiness to be drawn in, proceeded not so much from the dissatisfactory resentments I had conceived against the King of Mauritania, as the necessity I then stood in of his assistance, to be readmitted into favour with Augustus, and the expectation he put me into, of the protection of Livia, his own, and that of all his friends, for the recovery of my Fortunes which I had lost, with the government of Mauritania. He put me into some hopes, that, by the recommendations of Livia, I might be entrusted with other employments, not inferior, or less considerable, then that, nay haply with the same again, if the Emperor brought that Kingdom under subjection.  
He performed these promises he had made to me in some part, and, as I have told you, he made my peace with Caesar, before he got me to do any thing in the design, wherein I was to serve him. But when he perceived that the artifices he had made use of, answered not his expectation, and that though they had proved so fortunate as to satisfy you both of the infidelity of Coriolanus, and consequently destroy or divert the affection you have had for that Prince, yet would not that diversion prove any way advantageous to himself, nor raise in the Princess' heart those inclinations which were lost as to Coriolanus, he immediately grew cold, not minding my concernments at all, or the great hopes he had, not long before, put me into. I was sensible of that change of does disposition by many circumstances, and took notice of it with no small dissatisfaction. However, at the first I took all things with abundance of patience, as not thinking it very strange, that the distraction Tiberius was in, which was such as made him less careful of himself, might well make him reflect but little on his friends, and that, considering with himself what little possibility he was in to gain your affections, Madam, at a time where he was in a manner confident not to meet with any difficulty, as having no Rival to balance his addresses to you, his humour seemed to be somewhat changed from what it was, and discovered some remission of that earnestness which he had before expressed to do me all the favours I could expect from him. But when I saw that his coldness increased more and more, and that the Empress did me not any good office with Caesar, I began to be troubled, and to give entertainment to that remorse which ever attends guilt, when a man reaps not the benefit which had encouraged him to the commission of a crime.  
However Tiberius thought fit, out of policy, to flatter me still with some slight remainders of hope, and held it no prudence to make an absolute breach with me, out of a fear that the discontent I might conceive thereat, should engage me to discover the truth of what had past. Upon these considerations was it, that he, being prodigal enough of his kindness and caresses, when there is any thing of concernment to himself, entertained me with civilities, such as, in appearance, where the most obliging in the World. But I perceived that in effect, he thought but little of me, and minded me no more then as a complice, in the base trick he had put upon you, and one that he could gladly have wished out of the World, so to be rid of a fear of being sometime or other betrayed. His carriage was not the same towards Theocles, and knowing him to be a person of mischievous inclinations, and one fit to be put upon any enterprise, he had held him in a very fair correspondence to be made use of in a design he had, and to be employed, as I have told you, to persuade Prince Marcellus that the Princess Julia treated privately with him upon the negotiation, he was sent thither upon, from Coriolanus. When the Emperor had sent him an order ●o leave Rome, he sent him to a house of his own, within a day's journey from the City, and there kept him secretly, till the time of his departure, which was within few days after. You know how he left Rome, in a manner alone, without any attendance, and went his ways, so obscurely, that it was not known what design he was gone upon, nor what way he had taken at his departure. He gave out, some days before, (as I also heard myself) that his intention was to find out Coriolanus in the midst of his dominions, and to be revenged by his death, for the wound he had received from him, since the Emperor had denied him all other ways of satisfaction, and thought not fit to trust him with the command of that Naval army which he had sent against him, under the conduct of Domitius Aenobarbus, and I was confirmed in the confidence I had that he was gone away upon that resolution, when I understood that he had taken Theocles along with him, who was well acquainted with the Country, and might accordinglyly very much facilitate the execution of his enterprise.  
The departure of Tiberius put me into no small astonishment, as being a thing that came not within my expectation, for I found myself, by that means, much to my discomfort, deprived of that little assistance which I was as yet in hopes to receive from him. That which put me into a greater necessity of it, was, that, by the concernment I had in Theocle's negotiation, I had drawn upon me your displeasure, my Lord, with that of all your house, and that of Anthony's, which are the most powerful of the Empire, and against which I could not hold out long, but by the interest of Livia. Not my Lord, that I ever received any discourtesy either from yourself or the Princess, or that you did me any ill office that ever I could hear of; but it was not hard for me to take notice that you were all but little pleased with me, and I was not ignorant that you were in a capacity to do me a displeasure whenever you had a mind to do it. For your part, my Lord, you soon put me out of that fear, by your departure some few days after Tiberius, which was almost after the same manner, and, as most people were of opinion, with the same design; but the Princess Octavia stayed behind, as also the Princesses your Sisters, and divers other persons of great credit with Caesar, who were all very much dissatisfied with me. Livia and Drusus were indeed able to counterbalance that credit of theirs; but Livia countenanced me no longer, when Tiberius once forbore his solicitations on my behalf, and Drusus, a person of a more than ordinary virtue, finding haply little inclination to any such thing in me, and having at my first coming conceived a prejudice against me, expressed not the least friendship towards me.  
Thus was I, in a manner, discarded by all, little esteemed by Caesar, who had not entertained me but upon the mediation of Livia, and abused by those that saw me fallen, through my own negligence, from that noble employment, and favour of fortune wherein I seemed to have been so well settled. My ancient friends, nay my own relations began to slight me, and not to endure my company without some violence; so that instead of continuing in the hopes I had conceived to be restored to my former condition, I found myself in a probability to waste away my life, not only in the condition of a private man, but withal, in that of one of the most unfortunate of mankind. The reflection I made on this alteration filling me with melancholy and despair, began to reinflame those regrets in my soul, which I might well conceive for the abuse I had done to so great a Prince, and made me look on my present fortune as a visible effect of Heaven's justice, whom I had incensed against me, by an unreasonable desire of revenge, and the carrying on of a base and unworthy project. I made all the friends I could for several employments, which were all denied me, though they were such as I might well pretend to; and I found at last that there was no living for me in Rome, but with the contempt even of those persons who had sometime adored my greatness. This consideration stuck such arrows in my heart, that, at last, being no longer able to hold out against my affliction, I fell into a long and dangerous sickness, which I was struggling with when Caesar left Rome to go that vast progress he intended through the Empire, and from which he is not yet returned.  
I shall not trouble you with the particulars of my sickness which kept me fastened to my bed in a manner ever since that time, and during which there have happened very strange and great revolutions, especially in Mauritania, which, upon the absence of its valiant Prince, whose presence might have maintained it against all the World, is fallen under the power of Augustus. Hearing this news at Rome, grief seized me afresh, as reflecting on the promise I had been fed with by Tiberius, to be restored to that government, if ever it were reduced. At last, after a long and dangerous sickness, I made a shift to leave my bed, much about two months since; and conceiving, that change of air, might contribute somewhat to the recovery of my health, I departed from Rome, and went to spend some time in certain houses I had still left me in Italy. When I was grown to some competency of strength, I would needs take a further progress, and after I had spent some time in visits among my friends, (if I may say that in my misfortune I had preserved any) I went to a certain house belonging to Mummius, distant from Brundisium about an hours riding. There had I stayed two days, when, by some that belonged to Mummius, who went almost every day to Brundisium, I understood that Tiberius was newly arrived there. I was a little surprised at that news, nay, so far, that I was in suspense what course I should take, as not knowing whether it were then a fit time for me to wait on him, to put him in mind of the promises he had made to me, and to acquaint him with the sad condition I was reduced to, or sit down in the persuasion I was of that he had absolutely forgotten me. But at last, some little scantlings of hope, that he would in some measure perform what he had promised, encouraged me into a resolution to see him. Accordingly, I went to Brundus●●m, and presented myself to him, at a time, that in all probability he was not much taken up with any thoughts of me. 'tis generally known what a great master he is in the art of dissimulation, yet could he not so disguife himself at my first appearance, but that I could easily overthrow he was somewhat at a loss to see me there, and that I was not the welcomest person in the World to him. But after a while recovering himself and his artifices, he entertained me with abundance of seeming obligation, even to the making of a many excuses to me that he had left Rome without giving me notice of it, and swearing that that injury, (if it were any) was no more than he had done to all the World besides, those only excepted whom he had taken along with him, and that he had concealed his design from all, that so it might not be in the power of any to prevent it.  
Finding him in such a posture of civility towards me, I thought it a fit time, in plain terms, to acquaint him with the miserable condition I was then in as to point of fortunes, and did silently reproach him with a certain baseness, in that he had forsaken me, after I had upon his account engaged myself in an action, which had raised me enemies among the most powerful persons about the Emperor. I also took occasion to put him in mind of the promise he had made me for my recovery of the government I had lost, if it came within the power of Augustus.  
Tiberius' dissembled the vexation which this discourse must needs put him into, and affirming that the still persisted in the same resolutions, he told me that the reason of his stay at Brundisium, was, to learn by those that he had sent to Rome, in what place he might meet with the Emperor, who, as he had understood, was so far gone in his progress as into Asia, out of a design he had to visit the Provinces of the Empire. That as soon as his people were returned, his resolutions were to put to sea again to overtake Augustus' Court, where he promised me to endeavour all that lay in his power with him and the Empress to resettle me in Mauritania, in the same condition I had been in before.  
Seeing him in this humour, though I durst not be over-confident of his promises, I entreated him that he would be pleased to take me along with him in that voyage, and give me leave once more to try, whether I could recover myself out of the wretchedness of my fortunes by his protection and assistance. Tiberius' entertained that request with a countenance wherein it was visible that he thought me a trouble to him. Yet durst he not deny it me out of a fear, as I have had good ground to imagine since, lest such a disappointment might oblige me to discover the combination and the design we had to circumvent you; which it seems he was very loath should take any air, though he had not made that advantage thereof which he expected. He therefore was content I should accompany him, insomuch that having some three days after received from Rome the account he expected, and the accommodations he had sent for, in order to his retinue, I went abroad, by his permission, taking along with me but a small number of servants that had attended me to Mummius' house; and so we directed our course towards Alexandria, whither he had understood that the Emperor was to come within a short time, and to make some stay there.  
I had forgot to tell you, that I found Theocles with him, in very good terms, as to matter of trust and intimacy, which I was at first very glad to see: but not many days after I perceived that the good inclinations which that Barbarian had sometimes expressed to me, were in a manner lost, & that I was much more an eyesore to him then to Tiberius. I understood from both, that they had been in Mauritania, to endeavour, by any means they could, the death of Coriolanus, it being, it seems, the judgement of Tiberius, that he might compass it any way whatsoever, without any prejudice to his honour, after the treatment he had received from that Prince in Rome, & the course he had taken to be satisfied of him by other ways, if the Emperor had thought it good to bestow on him the command of the naval army which he had desired. They further told me, what trouble it was to him that he had not met with him in his own Kingdom, and that after they had sought him up and down in others the next to it, he thought it best to take his way back again to Rome, out of an imagination he might be secretly returned thither to see the Princess Cleopatra.  
Though I was no friend to Coriolanus, as I think I had sufficiently made it appear, yet this perfidiousness of Theocles could I not but conceive a horror at, perceiving it to be such as egged him on to compass the death of his Prince; and this troubled me so much, that I could not forbear discovering it to him, so far as that I could not any way approve of it. It was no doubt an imprudent action in me, and the Barbarian conceiving himself disobliged not only forbore all further correspondence with me, but raising suspicions in Tiberius of me, he had ever and anon private conferences with him, which I must not be admitted to, and accordingly gave me occasion to mistrust there was something a-brewing against me.  
Thus we kept on our voyage which proved prosperous enough till that yesterday we landed upon this river, at a little City which is distant about three hours riding from this place, Tiberius, it seems, being unwilling to come up into the port of Alexandria, out of a design, as he told me, to come into the the City undiscovered. In order to that resolution he told us that we must be divided into several parties the better to avoid going in such a number and equipage as might occasion any discovery, and thereupon ordered me to go before with Theocles, seven or eight of his men and but two of mine, assigning Theocles a place in Alexandria, where it was appointed we should all meet at night. We got on horseback (I all this time not having the least mistrust of the wicked design they had upon me) and road a good way discoursing of indifferent things, the distance which was between Theocles and myself being not come to that height as to hinder us from discoursing together. At last being come into a wood, which from the river side reaches some stadia into the neighbourhood. Theocles began to rip up the former discourse we had together some days before, concerning the service he would have done Tiberius, in the design he had undertaken to be the death of his own Prince; and told me he very much wondered, I should disapprove his proceeding being guilty of an action that was no better, and had myself engaged him in a cheat; which he had never been drawn into but by my advice and encouragement. Though I might well imagine that Theocles fell not upon that discourse but with a design to quarrel with me, and find a pretence without infamy to Tiberius to put in execution what they had basely plotted against me, yet did I not reflect on it soon enough, and accordingly could not forbear telling him, that there was a vast difference between an action wherein we had been jointly engaged (though truly considered, it were very horrid) and the design to mura King in his own Kingdom; and that there was the greater difference between those two actions, in regard of us, by as much as that I was a Roman and he a Subject to Coriolanus  
This barbarous wretch, who, what answer soever I had made, would have found the pretence he was so desirous of, pretended to be transported with indignation at this discourse, drew his sword and ran at me with all the fury he could. I should have been but little frighted at his action, if all those that were about him had not done the like, and with the same labour satisfied me, that Tiberius had not bestowed that guard on me but to give me my death. Of my two men, the more affectionate lost his life at my feet, and the other frighted saved himself by getting into the wood, so that I was forced to stand alone to the fury of those cruel Butchers, who came about me and gave me two great wounds. No question, but a thousand more had followed to dispatch me out of this world, and I saw it was to no purpose to think to lengthen my life by a fruitless resistance, when it pleased Fortune to direct into that part of the wood a man armed all over, mounted on a very stately horse, and attended only by an Esquire. He made a little halt to see what was done, and perceiving he had but little time to lose, if he would save my life, after he had anticipated his coming by a great outery, and in few words reproached my enemies with baseness and cowardice, he ran in among them with a fury to which nothing can be compared, and having with the shock of his horse overthrown the first he met within his way, he set upon the rest with such eagerness as showed he was nothing daunted at their number. And whereas they, as well as I, had no other arms then their swords, he spent very few blows which either carried not death along with them, or made those they met with uncapable of fight any longer. Theocles astonished at this miraculous relief, and perceiving there was no possibility to make an end of me till he had rid his hands of the stranger, endeavoured with the assistance of his men to dispatch him. But as it happened, he ran upon his own death, for that valiant man having received upon his buckler the blows he made at him, ran him clear through the body, and so he fell down to the ground, and immediately breathed his last. His companions were but weak in their endeavours to revenge his fall, and finding themselves reduced to one half of the number they made at first, and that by the same hand, they were quite discouraged, and placed all their safety in their flight.  
Finding myself rescued in that manner from those unmerciful enemies, though very much weakened by the two wounds I had received, I made a shift to come nearer my deliverer, to give him thanks for his assistance; and it happened at the same time, that he, feeling himself very much heated, either by reason of the sultriness of the season, or the action he had been in, put up the visor of his head-piece to take in a little fresh air. I had hardly fastened my eyes on his countenance, but I was in a manner dazzled by the lustre and goodliness of it, and thereupon looking on him a little more earnestly, I knew him to be that person to whom I had been so cruelly perfidious, the valiant King of Mauritania.  
It is impossible I should represent to you the confusion I was in, to find myself obliged for my life to a Prince whom I had so basely abused and to see that Fortune should, after so strange a manner, direct to my relief that person from whom of all men I had least reason to expect it. An adventure so unexpected could not but tie up my tongue for a while, and stifling the discourse I intended to disburden myself of by way of acknowledgement for the deliverance I was obliged to him for, I stood still before him, mute, immovable, and in the posture of a man whom an excess of remorse had deprived of all confidence. And it was certainly from my remorse, rather than any fear, that this proceeded, as not knowing whether the injury I had done him, was come to his knowledge; but if I was astonished to see him, he was no less to meet with me, and calling me to mind by the idaeas he had still in his memory of my countenance, and haply confirmed by the astonishment he observed in it, he stood still, as well as myself, like one lost in suspense and irresolution. At last, the passion which produced that effect in him being much different from that which had put me into so great disturbance, he soon recovered himself, and having viewed me with much more earnestness than before; Are not you Volusius, said he to me, sometime Praetor of Mauritania? I am the very same Volusius, answered I, who am now obliged to you twice for this wretched life, as having once received it with my liberty, as a demonstration of your generosity, and being obliged to you for it now by the relief I have received from you when I was reduced to the last extremities. You might have added to that, said he, that you are the same Volusius, who being once before obliged to me for your life and liberty, have nevertheless made me the most unfortunate man in the world, and by your perfidiousness have occasioned me the loss of Cleopatra 's affection, my Kingdom, and whatever should make me in love with life.  
This reproach put me to such a loss, that I knew not what answer to make, whereupon casting my eyes on the ground with an action expressing the greatness of my confusion, I satisfied the Prince that I had nothing by way of justification to say for myself. When he had looked on me for some time in that posture; What injury soever I may have received from you, said he to me, it troubles me not that I have been the occasion that you are yet alive; but certainly, 'tis a visible example of Heaven's justice to reserve the revenge of your perfidiousness to me who have been most injured thereby. Reassume the confidence which the conscience of your crime seems to have deprived you of, and since I have seen you defend your life with courage enough against divers men at the same time, muster up all you have, to defend it against one man alone, and give me not occasion, by a feeble resistance, to blush at the defeat of a man of inconsiderable va●our. Do not imagine I shall make use of the advantage I have over you, though the nature of the injury you have done me might very well induce me to wave that consideration; and since you have nothing about you but a bare sword I shall put off this armour, which if I should keep on, the engagement were unequal.  
With those words he cast off his head-piece and buckler, and was going to unhaspe his cuirats, when, looking upon him with the countenance of a man already overcome, and one that prepared himself for voluntary death rather than a combat; My Lord, said I to him, If these little remainders of life I have left me can any way satisfy your revenge, you may without any difficulty take them, nay, though I were much more in love with it then I am, you should never see me defend it against you. This is the second time that I receive it as your gift, and therefore present you with nothing but what was yours before, when I sacrifice it to your just indignation. Besides, should I endeavour the resistance which you would have me undertake, I have not strength to bear me out in it, for I find my spirits issuing out with my blood with such haste that it is with some difficulty they afford me the leisure to speak to you; so that if you consider the condition I am in, you may well take a just revenge on me, but not expect an honourable victory. Nor indeed is it from the ruin of a person infamous for his perfidiousness and treachery that you ought to look for any glory, yet will it not be any reproach to you though you should without any further combat run your weapon through a breast which I lay open to you, and which I offer up to your indignation, without any other regret than that of an incapacity tomake you better satisfaction for the mischief I have been the occasion of, and the injury I have done you.  
While I spoke to this effect, the Prince perceiving my countenance grew more and more pale, and that my blood ran down along my clothes in abundance, not only moderated his just displeasure, which would have armed him against me; but, passing from one extreme into another, with a generosity that is never met with in any soul but such as his, he seemed in a manner ashamed that he had been so ready to engage a man to fight that was weakened by so great wounds. Whereupon, compassion forcing its passage into that truely-royall heart through those barricadoes of passion which for for some time had opposed it, he became tenderly moved at the wretchedness of my condition, and, looking on me with a countenance, wherein there was not any thing legible of his indignation; Volusuis, said he to me, the injury you have done me is of such a high nature that it is not to be satisfied with light reparations; but it is not in the condition you are now in that I can take my revenge on you; nor indeed have I been wont to fight my enemies when they are weakened by wounds, and incapable to defend themselves. Far be it from me to take those remainders of life you offer me, since that though you had many whole lives to give me, 'twere but little by way of reparation for those cruel losses which I have suffered by your means.  
With these words, out of a miraculous excess of goodness, he commanded his Esquire to help me off my horse, to view my wounds, and to stop my blood if it were possible, The officious Esquire immediately obeyed his Master's command, & having torn off some linen from his own clothes, he endeavoured to stop the blood which ran in abundance from my two wounds, & to recover me so far as that I might get hither, being not distant many stadia's  
After I had received that assistance from him, turning to the Prince, who looked on the good office he did me without any expression of animosity; My Load, said I to him, this miraculous goodness of yours does in a manner multiply my crime, and forces a grief upon me; such as I shall not be able to shake off, but by the hope I am in, that the arrows which the sense of my crime, thrusts into my breast, will ere long put a period to my life. The gods know, that the remorse I conceived at that, was the only thing which brought it into the hazard wherein you have seen it, and if I had not discovered to Tiberius a regret for the offence I had committed, and to Theocles a horror for his perfidiousness, they had never plotted that against me, which no doubt but this latter was to put in execution, as well to satisfy his own resentments as to obey the orders of Tiberius.  
The Prince interrupting me at these words, entreated me to clear up a little more that which I had said somewhat obscurely. Whereupon, to satisfy him, I made him a brief relation of what I have repeated to you more at large, as well in relation to the instructions we had observed in the carrying on of the treacherous design we had upon you, as to what had happened to me from my departure out of Mauritania to our then meeting. And when I was come to the close of my discourse, I showed him the perfidious Theocles, who had newly breathed his last, and whom the gods by the miracles of their providence had reserved to die by his hands, as a reward of the horrid attempt he had made upon his life.  
The Son of Juba was very much astonished at the wickedness of Theocles, whose face he knew, though somewhat disfigured by death. At last when I perceived that he was, what by my words, what by my deportment, persuaded I was truly sorry for what I had done, I am very unfortunate, said I to him, that I can do so little in order to any reparation for my crime, and all the favour I desire of the gods, is, that they would continue me the light of this life, but till such time as that I have acquainted the Princess Cleopatra and Prince Marcellus with the cruel abuse we have put upon them. I shall give them an account of the whole transaction, and will acknowledge it to all the World to my last gasp. In a word, I shall endeavour to restore you to that innocence, which I have been the occasion that you have lost in the opinion of men, and I wish my blood spent upon no juster an account then that of restoring you to that Kingdom, which I sometime maintained so poorly against you. Accept, from a miserable wretch, of what you can get for the expiation of his perfidiousness, since you will not take those poor remainders of life he offered you, and which should have been sacrificed to your revenge.  
These words were accompanied by so many expressions of a real and sincere repentance, that the Prince, absolutely satisfied that I was truly sensible of the heinousness of my crime, was extremely moved at it himself by the discoveries I had made thereof. Whereupon having continued silent a little while, as it were to recollect himself, and to consider what he had to say to me; Volusius, said he, I heartily forgive you, the mischief you have done me, and am satisfied with the death of this perfidious subject, whom the gods, by a miraculous conduct of their justice had reserved to perish by my hands, when I least expected it. I refuse not the proffer you make me to give an account of my innocence to Cleopatra and Marcellus. I am confident they have already entertained some apprehensions thereof, and it will be your business to rid them of all those which may be yet remaining in them of the infidelity wherewith I have been charged. I imagine not but that my justification is of as great concernment to me as the recovery of my Kingdom. I have made a shift to live without a Kingdom, assured of the affections of Cleopatra; but I would not be burdened with the keeping of a Kingdom, when I have been abhorred by Cleopatra. I shall entreat you to tell both the Princess and Marcellus, that I had deserved they should have made a stricter inquisition into my crime, and consequently been more concerned in my vindication before they had condemned me with so much severity; and that they should both of them have debated the business a little on my behalf, against apparences uncertain enough. How do I acknowledge myself obliged to the gods that they have ordered things so, as that, before my death, I may let them know, I have not been perfidious either to my Mistress or my Friend, and that, since I have recovered myself from their reproaches by truth, they shall never hear of those which I might make to them, merely out of the love and respect which I shall have for them to the very last breath. Only you will be pleased to entreat the Princess to remember herself, that, notwithstanding my innocence, notwithstanding my justification, I am no longer worthy to serve her, and that, though I might hope the recovery of her affections, yet durst I not presume to desire they should be cast away on a wretch, persecuted by Heaven and a cross fortune, and one who hath not, all over the earth, any place he may call his own. Further, that time hath been I might, through the friendship and assistance of Caesar, have hoped to be restored to a condition not much different from that of my Ancestors; that after I had lost Caesar's friendship, I had recovered a Kingdom wherein she should have reigned, had the gods and my cruel destiny been so pleased: But that now, being dispossessed of all, all assistance, all protection, and all hope, it is not fit I should lift up my eyes on a Princess, whom the greatest Kings upon earth would think it a glory to serve, nor indeed so much as wish myself beloved by her, since she cannot affect me but upon a condition of her own unhappiness, by involving herself in the miserable destiny of the most unfortunate of mankind; That all I have to do now, is to die, so to put a worthy Period to this Tragedy, and that I shall be able to do, either by laying violent hands on myself, after the example of the King my Father, or by Caesar's wrath, whereto I shall expose myself without the least fear, after I have offered up to my ill fortune a Victim which I am obliged to sacrifice to her. That after that action, whatever may be the event of it, I shall endeavour to forbear disturbing the enjoyments of a person that is a thousand times dearer to me then the life which I bestow to further them; and lastly, that I make it my earnest suit to the gods that they never be interrupted by the memory of a wretch, whose remembrance might haply occasion some disturbance in the felicities I wish her. With those words, reaching forth his hand to me, he bade me farewell; and having commanded his Squire to help me up on horseback again to come for Alexandria, in order to the cure of my wounds, he took another way, and left me, much more troubled at his discourse and the action of it, than I was at the danger and pain of my wounds.  
Being gotten on horseback again by the assistance of his Squire, I took my way towards this City, much about the setting of the Sun, and came into it before it was quite dark, so weakened, that I was hardly able to stand. As to what hath passed since, I shall not trouble you. I was kindly entertained by Cornelius, who was my ancient friend, and seemed to be very much troubled at my misfortune; but it was not in his power to hinder me, out of any consideration of health, which he pressed very much, from leaving my bed, as soon as ever I understood, Madam, I might have access to you, to acquit myself of the charge I had taken upon me: and to clear to you and Prince Marcellus, the innocency of a Prince, who was never guilty of any thing but by the artifices of Tiberius and our combination, and who cannot justly be charged with any thing either as to his Mistress or his Friend, but is the most constant and most generous of all men living. I acknowledge the goodness of the gods in the favour they have done me to acquaint you with this truth before I die, and humbly beg it of them, that this discovery, which, proceeding from a real repentance I now make to you, may in some measure be thought a reparation of my crime. It hath produced effects too too important, and too too deplorable for me to hope any pardon from you, though I have obtained it from him, who hath been the greatest sufferer thereby, and whom I had offended most; but I fear me, I have received my punishment from those that were my co-agents in it, and that I shall not long survive the discovery of an action which must needs make me abominable in the sight of all the World.  
Thus did Volusius put a Period to his discourse; and though that towards the end of it he observed in the countenance of Cleopatra and Marcellus more compassion and grief than resentment or indignation against him, yet, were it that he could not any longer endure the presence of persons whom he had so highly injured, or that his wounds troubled him, he would not make any longer stay in the Chamber, and, with some difficulty, making a shift to rise off the chair he was sat in, after he had, by a gesture full of humility, and the expressions of his grief, taken his leave of the Prince and Princess, he passed into the outer-room, where he found the persons which Cornelius had left there to bring him back to his lodgings.  
It were no easy matter to represent what posture Marcellus and Cleopatra were in, upon this relation of Volusius. They were at the same time subject to such a distraction of thoughts, that it had been some difficulty to unravel them, and to make their confusion capable of some order. Yet is it certain, that their first apprehensions were those of joy, and that neither of them could, without being infinitely glad, entertain the news, that Coriolanus had even been a constant lover, and a faithful friend, and that they could not any longer doubt of that innocence which they so much wished. They looked one upon another during this first apprehension, and in their countenances expressed their mutual satisfaction. Cleopatra, as the most concerned in the business spoke first, and letting the Prince read in her eyes what her heart was so full of; Well Brother, said she to him, you see that Coriolanus is innocent, and that it was not without some ground that I was satisfied of it, before I had understood so much from the mouth of Volusius. I acknowledge the indulgence of the gods, replies Marcellus, as great towards me in this, as in the greatest favour they ever did me; and I take them to witnesses, that what you and Volusius have persuaded me to of the constancy of Julia, hath not caused in me such a satisfaction as what I have understood of the fidelity of Coriolanus. How, replied the Princess, with a certain transportation not suitable to her ordinary moderation, it is then infallible, that Coriolanus, whose pretended infidelity cost me so many tears, hath ever been constant to his Cleopatra; and that Princess, who, by her misapprehension thought herself condemned to eternal afflictions, may now reassume those joys and hopes she had before broke off all acquaintance with?  
Here would she have taken occasion to open her soul for the reception of a passion, which, of a long time, had not had any entertainment there: but that joy was soon eclipsed by an interposition of grief, and a certain reflection which filled her heart with all the sadness it was capable of, when she thought on her cruel deportment towards that Prince, the deplorable effect it had produced, as having proved the occasion of the loss of his Crown, and of all her hopes, and that fatal resolution which he had expressed to Volusius, that he intended to take, and whereof he had given her some notice at their last parting. In a word, being thus convinced of his fidelity, she could not call to mind the cruel entertainment she had made him at Syracuse, when, inflamed to the highest pitch of love, and thinking it a thousand times more glorious to be her servant, then that so noble a conquest, and the recovery of his Kingdoms had made him, he had passed through thousands of dangers, to come and offer her those very Kingdoms; she could not think on the cruel and injurious speeches wherewith she had received him, and the sad condition wherein she had left him, without a mortal wound in that heart which nothing but the love of that Prince could ever make any impression in.  
For that doleful reflection, calling to mind, how she had met him in the Woods of Alexandria, the day that he relieved her with greater valour than success, against those that afterwards carried her away, and lastly remembering the meeting she had had with him in the King of Armenias' ship, whereof she represented to herself all the particulars, after another manner than they had appeared to her, while she was still prepossessed of her cruel mistake, as well out of a consideration of that long swooning, into which her sight and words had put him, as the discourse, full of a generous confidence he had made to her, and the admirable resolution he had taken and gone through with, by fight alone for her liberty, against so great a number of enemies, with such prodigious valour, and by the last words he had spoken to her at their parting, wherein, as well as in his actions, his innocency was but too too apparent. And from these things, whereof her eyes had been but too too faithful witnesses, diverting her thoughts to others that were of no less consequence, such as the loss of a great Kingdom which he had conquered for her, and which he neglected to maintain, through the despair she had reduced him to; that which he had expressed when he cast himself into the Sea, because he would not survive his disgrace, and the shame he thought it, that he was not able to rescue her from her Ravishers; the miserable condition he was brought to, having no place of refuge, no relief, nor any comfort in the World, and lastly, the resolution he had discovered to Volusius and herself, of his unwillingness to have her any longer engaged in his misfortunes, and to seek out the remedies thereof only in death, which, for a courage, such as his was, it should not be hard to find; she could not fasten her thoughts on all these truths, which were but too importunate upon her memory, without giving way to such a grief, as neither all her own great constancy, nor yet the joy she conceived at the innocence of Coriolanus, were able to abate.  
After she had for some time smothered the disordered agitations she was in, being not able to hold out any longer, and conceiving she might freely disburden herself before Marcellus, whom she was confident of, and whose soul, during that time, was persecuted by imaginations much of the same nature; Coriolanus is innocent, said she, breaking forth into a rivulet of tears: But, O ye Heavenly powers! such is my cruel destiny, that Coriolanus cannot be innocent, but I must at the same time be the most criminal person in the World. That Prince, the most amiable, the most generous, and the most virtuous of men, hath continued inviolately constant to me, and hath still persisted in the same perfect affection, which had at first taken in my soul; and yet, unfortunate wretch that I am, I have had the cruelty for to banish him my presence as a Monster; I have had the inhumanity to see him in a manner expiring at my feet, and never could be moved at it; and I have at last reduced him to such extremities, as have proved the occasion of losing that Kingdom which he had designed for me, have made him a restless Vagabond all over the Earth, made him seek out precipices, and now make him resolve to seek in death a Period of these deplorable miseries, into which I, only I, have brought him. O Cleopatra, unfortunate Cleopatra! what pretence of joy canst thou find in the justification of Coriolanus, since it must needs expose thee to the most cruel regrets that ever persecuted guilty souls? It were much more for thy satisfaction, at least, if it were not for thy satisfaction, it would be much more to thy advantage, that thy Coriolanus had been found unconstant, and that thou shouldst be found innocent thyself; and since that thy innocence and his are things inconsistent, either he ought to be guilty, or thou have continued in the misprision which thou hadst been persuaded to. O cruel Vuolsius! cruel in thy malice, and cruel in thy remorse, thou art in both equally the messenger of death to me, and I find fatal poison in this appearance of life which thou bringest me, when thou tellest me that Coriolanus is constant to me. Let us then, till death, bewail the misfortune which attends us as well in the one as in the other condition, and never entertain any comfort, since that is a kind of happiness which guilty souls are never to expect.  
Here the tears interrupted the course of her speech, and fell from her in such abundance, that she was forced to allow them a free passage, and to let them express some part of what she felt within her. In that interval she repented her of her last reflections, and assoon as she was in a condition to reassume her discourse; I crave thy pardon, said she, with a voice imperfectly accented with sobs, I crave thy pardon, faithful Prince, for so unjust an apprehension, and what ever I may fear from my own remorse, and the reproaches thou mayst justly make me, yet must I needs acknowledge, that it is more satisfactory to me, nay a thousand times more satisfactory to me, to be found criminal by thy innocence, then to be found innocent by thy infidelity, for I set such a value on thy affection, that nothing can repair the loss of it, nor counterbalance the happiness it were to me to recover it. I am content to be though guilty of all that the artifices of my enemies have occasioned me to commit, and shall not seek for any excuse, either in my error or my repentance, but only flatter myself with this comfort, that thou hast ever loved me, lovest me now, and wilt love me to the last gasp. It is not therefore in thy justification that I would be thought unfortunate, because then the guilt lies on my side; but I acknowledge myself unfortunate in the ingratitude I have expressed towards thee, in the misfortunes I have occasioned thee, in the irrecoverabled losses I have caused thee, and the cruel resolutions I have forced thee upon. It was by my means, that, at Syracuse, thou wert reduced to those extremities that brought thy life into danger; upon my account hast thou lost a Kingdom, which thou didst design for me, thou hast spent thy days in wand'ring up and down the World with much misery, thou hast sought death among the Waves, and thou art still resolved to run thyself upon death, merely because thou wouldst not, either by thy presence or memory, disturb the enjoiments thou wishest me. Ah Coriolanus, 'tis in that resolution thou art unjust and cruel, no less than I have been, and thou oughtest not, by losing thy own life, imagine to add any thing to my happiness, since it is from thee alone that all the happiness of my life is derived. Thou hast but little acquaintance with Cleopatra, if thou canst think the loss of thy Kingdom able to abate any thing of the value I set on thee; I have ever preferred thy person before all the Monarchies of the World, and, supposing the condition thou art reduced to as miserable as can be imagined, I would run fortunes with thee with no less satisfaction then if thou hadst the universe at thy disposal. Do not therefore court thy own death, Coriolanus, if thou dost it not to rid thy hands of an unhappy woman, whom for her ingratitude thou hast reason to abhor, or if thou proposest to thyself greater felicity in death then in Cleopatra, let us go to it together, and know, that, as well as thyself, I am come from a house wherein the examples of voluntary death are but too too familiar, for me to be daunted at any such thing.  
With these words she as it were opened the floodgates to that grief, which was ready to overrun her, and cast herself on her bed, after a most pitiful manner, insomuch that Marcellus, who had never seen her so unable to command her passions being astonished at it, and rising from the place where he sat, came to her with an endeavour to recover and comfort her. Is it possible, Sister, said he to her, that so unreasonable a grief should have such a powerful influence on your imaginations, whom I have known with so much constancy resist the assaults of a just affliction; and cannot you entertain an account of Coriolanus 's innocency with some moderation, who have supported his infidelity with so much settledness and resolution? Can it possibly come to pass, if the affections of that Prince were ever dear to you, that you should not, with joy, entertain this change of your condition, and that the remorse you conceive at the miscarriages that have happened through your misapprehensions should have a more powerful operation on you, than the assurances of a fidelity which you have wished with more earnestness than you could have done any thing relating to your own life? Ah Sister, if these must be the effects of your regrets, let them fall only upon me who am oreburthened with crimes by the engagement I have had in your mistake, for that it was upon my solicitation principally that you came to hate a Friend, who loved me beyond himself. It was I that traveled up and down several Kingdoms and crossed many seas to find him out, purposely to dispatch him, when in the mean time I was dearer to him than his own life, and that was it that all my attempts were bend to cut off, even while, by the force of his Friendship, he contributed to the execution of my design, by presenting his naked breast to me to satisfy my cruelty. Let therefore all those arrows of remorse be stuck in my breast, with all the care of the reparation we owe him, and take heed you do not incense heaven by not entertaining, with the acknowledgements you ought, a favour you have put up so many suits to the gods for. I entertain, Brother, replied the Princess this favour from the celestial powers, with all the resentments I ought to have for it, and cannot but acknowledge, that there is not anything could be more dear to me than the innocence of Coriolanus: but Brother, after what manner would you have me consider the miserable condition whereto he is reduced, for my sake and upon my account, and with what constancy can I hear of the fatal resolution which he sends me word he intends to take, to run upon death merely to prevent his being any way a hindrance to my felicity? For what concerns his Fortunes, replied Marcellus, what lowness soever they may now be reduced to, it is not impossible but that they may be recovered to their former greatness, by such another revolution as that whereby they were ruined, and that either by open hostility, or those other ways he practised formerly, he may yet reascend into the throne of his Ancestors. But supposing all this were nothing but pure matter of imagination, and should never come to pass, he hath those Friends who will never have anything of fortune to dispose of, which they shall not divide with him, and will disclaim all they can pretend to in the world, if all be not common among them. For his fatal resolutions, we must endeavour to divert him from them: and since that he is not far from this place, hover hereabouts, in hopes to meet with Tiberius, I am in some confidence, that, seeking him out diligently, he may be met with. That care ought to be mine, and I accordingly take it upon me, and, in order to that design, I immediately take my leave of you, with this protestation that I will never return while I live, till I have met with Coriolanus, till I have obtained his pardon for the injuries I have done him, till I have acquainted him what favourable apprehensions you have for him, and have brought him to those terms wherein you would have him.  
The fair daughter of Anthony, being extremely eased and comforted by these kind proffers and expressions of Marcellus, would have made him some reply, when Queen Candace and Elisa came into the room, and, immediately after, the Princess Artemisa, attended by Alexander. Assoon as this company was come in, Marcellus, who was out of all patience to put the design he had undertaken in execution, withdrew without speaking aught to any one, and so, that the Princess herself could not otherwise than by a cast of her countenance express how infinitely she thought herself obliged to him for those good intentions of his. Though she had wiped her eyes, yet could she not hinder but that the three Princesses perceived she had been a-weeping: and in regard they all had a very great affection for her, and that Candace and Artemisa did not look on her otherwise than as an admirable Sister, and the Princess of the Parthians, as a person whose incomparable perfections had powerfully forced her heart and inclinations towards her, they discovered a certain emulation in expressing how much they were troubled for the grief she was in, whereof they saw the marks very fresh in her countenance, and with much precipitation would needs know the reason of it. Cleopatra returned them many thanks for those kind demonstrations of their affection, and after she had in few words expressed the resentments she had thereof, turning to the Princess Artemisa who was more particularly acquainted with the passages of her life than the other two, and had sometime seen Coriolanus, and pleaded very much on his behalf, and conceiving she might safely tell her what it was that lay so heavy on her heart, even before the two other Princesses, whom she had not the least suspicion of, and who were informed, though somewhat more confusedly, of the most important adventures had happened to her; Ah Sister, said she to her, (yet not without a little violence, to keep in the tears that would otherwise have accompanied her words) Ah Sister, how much were you in the right, when you maintained against me, that Coriolanus was not inconstant, and with how much reason did you take his part against an over credulous person, and one whom her imprudent credulity hath made guilty of irreparable miscarriages! 'Tis very certain, Sister, he is innocent, and hath been cleared, even by those that were the authors of the calumny raised against him. All the crime and all the remorse doth now absolutely fall to my share, and if you have made any discoveries of grief in my countenance it was the effect of those just regrets which I could not but conceive thereat.  
Artemisa seemed to be very much moved at this discourse, and made answer to the Princess with very much earnestness; But I pray Sister, said she to her, what certainty have you of the news you tell me, what stronger arguments can you have received of it, than those you might have derived from the discourses and actions of Coriolanus himself, and in a word what is it that hath so strangely convinced you of a thing, whereof you would not before admit of any satisfaction? Candace and Elisa, who, among other remarkable adventures of Coriolanus, had also heard of the pretended infidelity laid to his charge, thought themselves concerned in his justification, no less than Artemisa was; and Alexander, who had ever had a very great friendship for the person, and abundance of respect for the virtue of that Prince, seemed to be no less desirous to understand the truth of that business. The fair Cleopatra thought it but justice to satisfy them all, and perceiving there were only those persons in the chamber, she gave them a brief relation of all she had heard from Volusius, insisting more particularly on those passages that were of greater consequence. So that having by that discourse satisfied the noble company present of the innocency of Coriolanus; they were all extremely troubled to understand what a deplorable condition that Prince was reduced to, and the sad resolutions he had taken thereupon. The gods have the praise, cries out the Princess Artemisa, for that they have been pleased to confirm a truth which I have ever maintained, and whereof all virtuous persons were obliged to wish a perfect discovery: I had ever observed in all the actions and words of that great Prince what remorse never permits in guilty Souls, and I would have hazarded my life upon the confidence I had of his innocency.  
The Queen of Ethiopia, and the fair Elisa discovered for the vindication of Coriolanus, a joy and satisfaction not inferior to that of Artemisa, though he was, as to his person, utterly unknown to Elisa, and that Candace had not seen him, but for some few minutes in the combat wherein he had fought with Artaban against the companions of the Pirate Zenodorus. But Alexander was absolutely overjoyed, as well out of a consideration of his Sister, as that of a Prince whom he had ever infinitely esteemed; and having understood from his Sister the design which Marcellus was engaged in to find him out, and so to divert him from his tragical resolutions he proffered to go along with him, and entreated Artemisa to give him leave to accompany Marcellus in so noble an enterprise. Artemisa was content he should, though she could not look on his departure without some regret; so that Alexander immediately went out of the room, with an intention to find out Marcellus, and to join endeavours with him to recover Coriolanus out of his despair, and to rescue that Prince out of the danger which he might fall into by coming too near so powerful an enemy as Caesar was▪  
The three Princesses, remaining still with Cleopatra, endeavoured to persuade her out of a grief whereto she seemed to be inclined beyond all reason or moderation, & to covince her that she ought to be more satisfied with her condition as it now stood, then as it was some days before, since that the cause of her most just and sensible grief was taken away. To which, whe● she would represent to them, how it troubled her to the very heart, that she had treated with so much rigour a faithful and innocent Prince, and had brought him from a throne, into which he had recovered himself, to the wretched condition he then was in; Candace assuming the discourse. Madam, said she to her, the very regret you discover for your harsh treatment of the King of Mauritania, is, no doubt, reparation enough to him, and there needs no more to satisfy him and all the world, than to consider the apparences whereby you were deceived, and which might indeed have deceived the most subtle and circumspect persons upon earth. And for his condition in respect of Fortune, which you seem to bewail so much, besides what you may promise yourself from the Friendship which Marcellus hath for him, I dare proffer you both, in Ethiopia, not only sanctuary, but absolute and sovereign Authority. For when the Prince, whom you know, shall once come to reign there, as I am much in hopes he will, I am confident he will not think it much to divide, with you, the power he shall have there, and think it not impossible but that with the assistances of his men and person, he may put Coriolanus into a condition to get once more into a throne which he had made a shift to recover without the helps of his Friends.  
Cleopatra made answer to this obliging discourse of Candace, with the greatest acknowledgements that could be, embracing her with the greatest affection imaginable. And the Princess of the Parthians, who could not make her so absolute a proffer in the dominions of her Father, till they were fallen under her power, made a protestation to her, that if ever it should please the gods that she had the sovereignty there, she might assure herself of no l●ss authority in her dominions than in those of Candace.  
The incomparable daughter of Anthony was, not without reason, very much raised up and elevated by the discourse & proffers of those fair Princesses, and they would thereupon have fallen into a long conversation. if Agrippa had not come into the room, after he had before sent in his desires of admission. Being come in, he told them, that, by a letter he had received from Caesar, he understood that he would be the next day at Alexandria, that all things were putting in order for his entertainment, though he had not sent any notice that he expected a more than ordinary reception. He told Elisa in particular, that the King of Media, was gone to meet him the day before; and that he was just getting on horseback with the same intention, attended▪ by all the Roman Nobility, that came along with him to Alexandria. Whereupon he took leave of them and particularly of Elisa by a passionate look, as having not, in that company, the opportunity of a more private conversation.     

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA; OR Loves Masterpiece. Part. XI.  

LIB. I.  
ARGUMENT.  
Agrippa, attended by most of the Illustrious Persons in Alexandria, goes to meet Augustus in his way thither. Prince Ptolomey, Drusus, and Lentulus come in, the night before the Emperor, impatient to see the Princess Cleopatra. Ovid 's discourse and judgement of Prudence, Modesty, Reservedness, Severity, Favours, and Compliances in matter of Love. The Princess Artemisa, desirous to have an account of the Loves of Lentulus and Tullia, he, upon the entreaty of Cleopatra, entertains them with the History of his Adventures. Tullia 's constancy in her affection for Ptolomey, notwithstanding her resolutions to conceal it, and his indifference for her. She is comforted by Emilia; told her Fortune by the Mathematician Thrasyllus, and constantly, though ineffectually Courted by Lentulus. Cicero, Tullia 's Brother, by the solicitations of Lentulus, made Aedile. Tullia writing a Letter to Emilia, falls a sleep before she had done; but it is finished, unknown to her, by Lentulus. She persists in her severity, upon which, despairing, he resolves for the Wars of Pannonia; but she, o'ercome at last with the transcendency of his affection, and the Remonstrances of Emilia, Scipio, and Cicero, commands his return, and entertains him suitably to his pretensions; but the solemnity of their Nuptials deferred till the return of Augustus. Candace is visited by Caesario, who is desirous to leave Alexandria, but for a time continues there, upon the entreaties of Cleopatra.  
THough Agrippa had resolved, in the design he had to meet Caesar, to take along with him only those of his own retinue, yet was his attendance very much augmented by the access of divers Illustrious Persons, who were guilty of an earnestness equal to his, to go and salute the Emperor at the place where he was to lodge that night. Ariobarzanes, the new King of Armenia, having spent some part of the day in giving order for embalming the body of the unfortunate Artaxus, secretly brought the night before to Alexandria by Megacles, as also for the preparing of the ship wherein it was to be conveyed back to Artaxata, to be disposed among the Monuments of his Ancestors, after he had acknowledged the civilities of Megacles suitably to the account he had received of his virtuous inclinations from the relation of Artemisa, who had given a very advantageous Character of him, conceived the change had happened in his Fortunes, no dispensation for his waiting on Augustus, whose power he was upon some considerations obliged to, and to whom he thought himself bound to make acknowledgement of what he had received from his Predecessors, He was the more animated to prosecute that design by the remonstrances of Prince Philadelph, (a person he now conversed with no otherwise then as a beloved Brother, their noble inclinations having contributed very much to the cementing of an indissoluble Friendship between them) it being also the desire of that Prince, to go along with him to salute Caesar, before his arrival at Alexandria. There was a third person, who would needs make one with them, and was entertained with no small satisfaction: and that was the gallant Artaban, whom the inconveniencies that still hung upon him by reason of his Wounds, could not divert from undertaking that small journey, nay he thought himself the more engaged thereto, as well to render to the Majesty of a person, who had made himself Master of the greatest part of the World, what from the whole was but due to him, as out of the necessity he stood in of his protection, both in regard of the present posture of his affairs, and the design he had to dispute Elisa, against the pretensions of Tigranes, and the cruelty of Phraates. But what most prevailed with him, was, that Tigranes had prevented him in it, and might haply by his presence and applications prepossess Augustus to his own advantage. Yet passed there not these transactions in his thoughts without a certain aversion, not much different from that which he had for the person of Caesario: but not finding much ground to entertain any such, he with the more ease overcame it, & so got on horseback with the two Princes his Friends, to close with Agrippa, upon his departure out of Alexandria. Marcellus was gone some time before, but with much different resolutions, and Prince Alexander had followed him, with some intentions not unlike his, Cornelius continued in the City, to put all things in order for the reception of the Emperor, it being his part only to come out the next day without the Gates with the Inhabitants, whom he had accordingly put into Arms. The Emperor had given order before hand, that he would not be received into Alexandria with the same magnificence as he had been in all the Cities of Asia, out of a consideration, That it was in that very City he had ruined the unfortunaie Anthony; but out of the respect he had for those of his Children that were about him, and particularly for Octavia, who had been his Wife. he would not make his entry with such Pomp as might revive in their minds the memory of their misfortunes, and would in some measure argue an insulation on the change of their condition.  
After the departure of the Princes, and those other illustrious persons that had left Alexandria, Cleopatra, Elisa, Candace, and Artemisa, after they had dined together, would needs give a visit to Olympia and Arsinoe, whom, after his departure, they were in hope to find in the Lodgings of the King of Armenia, when looking out they spy those two Princesses, who it seems had been more diligent than themselves, and having taken their leaves of Ariobarzanes and Philadelph, were purposely come to the Palace to spend the remainder of the day with them. It might have been said with as little flattery as untruth, That Fortune had, by a strange sort of accidents, brought into that place six the greatest Beauties upon the earth; or rather that the Sun through the vast extent of his course saw not so much beauty, as he could have done in Cleopatra▪ s Chamber alone. It must indeed be acknowledged, that that admirable person had somewhat the advantage of the rest, though in that of Elia's there were a greater delicacy, and in that of Candace no less Majesty: That of Arsinoe, whom they could not forbear to call still by the name of Delia, was somewhat inferior thereto, and yet the Earth could afford but few Beauties that had so sudden, and so irresistible an influence as that of Delia: In that of Artemisa there was a certain mildness extremely delightful; and notwithstanding the alteration that had happened in that of Olympia, yet was it not hard to discover, that when it should have recovered all its advantages, the world would have afforded but few with whom she might not dispute precedence.  
Among persons of such extraordinary quality, there could not but be a conversation suitably excellent, which yet became somewhat the more pleasant by the admission of Ovid, who having no great inclination to ride abroad with the rest, stayed behind in Alexandria, as preferring an attendance on the fairest Ladies before any thing in the world besides. He told Agrippa that he should see Caesar the next day, and that he hoped not to want the sight of him while he lived; but for what was at that time to be seen in Alexandria, 'twas a question whether any part of the world could parallel. Virgil would also needs stay behind, as one intimately acquainted with Cornelius Gallus, a passionate lover of Poesy, as may appear by those remnants of his that have reached posterity in those excellent Eclogues, wherein under the feign▪ d names of Tityrus and Menalcas he celebrates the Friendship that was between them. He came that day with Ovid to wait on the Princesses, though he were of an inclination much more severe than that of Ovid, and spent in other employments the greatest part of that time which Ovid sacrificed purely to his advertisements.  
This Noble Assembly was soon augmented by the access of divers other persons; and whereas the personage, the name, and birth of Cleopatra challenged a certain veneration in Alexandria, as having been the Royal seat of her Ancestors, the place of her birth and education to the nineth or tenth year of her age, all the Ladies of quality, whereof the number▪ was very considerable, came to visit her. Cleopatra entertained them with that attractive sweetness which all the world adored in her, and it being not imaginable, that these visits could be either given or received, without reviving in the Princess a reflection on her tender years, and, consequently on on her fortunes, and the ruin of her house, that conversation must needs prove the occasion of much sadness to her, and force many tears from those persons who had seen her brought up, as it were in their bosoms, with so much lustre, and could not reflect on those things but as fresh in their memories. She indeed did all that lay in her power to shift off all discourse of that nature, and those who took notice of her design endeavoured accordingly to find out some other things to talk of.  
When it was grown somewhat late, the Princess' finding the season cool and fair enough to take a walk without any fear of being incommodated by the Sun, would needs spend the rest of the day in the Garden, the beauties whereof were answerable to the magnificence of the Palace. They accordingly went thither, attended by a great number of Ladies, who could not be entertained in the Chamber, and with no small satisfaction walk▪ d up a●d down the fair and spacious walks thereof. They had taken some few turns when they saw coming into the Garden three men, whose amiable countenances raised a little astonishment in all that were present, and the sight of them proved very pleasant to the Princess Cleopatra, when ●he perceived them to be Drusus, young Ptolomey her Brother, and his Friend Lentulus, who out of an impatient desire to see her, would needs give her a visit before Caesar's arrival. Cleopatra entertain▪ d Drusus with all the discoveries of the real esteem she had for both his person and his virtue: She received Ptolomey into her embraces as a Brother she had ever dearly loved; and treated Lentulus as a person of high birth, of great merit, and an intimate Friend of her Brother▪ s and her House. Drusus and his companions rendered to the Princesses, to whom Cleopatra presented them, telling them withal their names, what was due to their quality, and might be expected from persons that understood very well the punctilios of Courtship. Which done, being again returned to the fair Daughter of Anthony, they expressed the trouble they could not but have conceived at the accidents had happened to her, and the satisfaction it was to them to find her so well, after an alarm that had put Augustus' Court into disorder, but particularly themselves into the greatest perplexity imaginable. Cleopatra having thanked them for that expression of their affection, and thereupon asked them what had occasioned the hastening of their arrival; Drusus, to whom she more particularly addressed her discourse, replied, Madam, said he to her, The injury you do us in that demand is not to be dissembled, since you might well imagine that nothing should prevail with us to leave the Emperor, but an in patience of the honour to wait on you, after you had run through those accidents whereby we had in a manner given you over for lost. The first account we had thereof was not till the last night, and I can assure you, that the Emperor, the Empress, the Princess Julia, and all the most considerable persons that are of their retinue were infinitely troubled thereat. For the Princess Octavia, and the Princesses her Daughters, 'twere not necessary we should give you any account how far they might be concerned therein: Could their Sex have dispensed with their coming the same way and born with the inconveniences of so hasty a removal, you should not have seen us before them, and it is only the hopes they are in to see you on the morrow that have satisfied their impatience in the mean time.  
Cleopatra answered this discourse of Drusus with the civility it deserved, and perceiving that he prepared to present her with his hand for her more commodious walking, she entreated him to render that service to the Princess of the Parthians and Queen Candace, and having made a sign to Ptolomey to do the like to Olympia and Arsinoe, she recommended herself with Artemisa▪ ●●●●e conduct of Lentulus. Ovid was gotten among the Ladies of Alexandria, and minded nothing so much as to proffer his attendance to the fairest in his judgement, and to wait on her for the remainder of that day. The walk they were got into being very spacious, the six Princesses went all abreast, and Cleopatra, who was not only desirous, but thought herself obliged to entertain Drusus, walking next to Candace, whom he had by the right hand, and addressing her speech to him with that attractive grace, against which the most savage hearts had nothing that could secure them; Now that you have so well expressed, said she to him, how far you thought yourself concerned in my affairs, will you not give me leave in my turn to discover my concernment in yours; and do you not conclude me guilty of a little tardiness, that I have no sooner demanded of you some account of Antonia? Antonia, replies the son of Livia, with a certain air of gallantry, is still the same Antonia; and as I think that expression enough to tell you that she is still one of the most accomplished persons upon earth, so I conceive you need no more to infer, that she is withal the person the least compliant in the world. Nor indeed can I imagine, Madam, added he smiling, that the small time past since your separation considered, you should conceive there can any great change happen in a soul so constantly fortified, as that, in which I can hardly believe the overturning of the Universe were able to work any.  
The fair Princess could not but smile at that discourse of Drusus, and looking on him with a more cheerful look than she had shed that day before. You see, said she, I make no difficulty to engage you upon that discourse before these great Princesses, now that your designs are known to all the world, and that you are not guilty of any proceeding you would conceal. And therefore since we are gone so far, I shall tell you, that I am indeed very much persuaded you are in the right, when you think Antonia's soul incapable of those alterations whereto many others are subject; but that, as to the posture of your affairs in relation to her, I do not conceive you yourself wish she should be; and as being of opinion, that Antonia is much more favourable to you than I ever expected her Humour could have been prevailed with to be, which yet you know I am the best acquainted with of any in the world. I must indeed confess, replied Drusus, that I have much reason to be satisfied with my Fortune, and that it were to be unworthy of it, no● to acknowledge it far exceeds, not only my deserts, but even my hopes. The Princess Antonia is pleased, out of compliance with their disposal whom she acknowledges a submission to, to give me leave to hope she will not oppose my ultimate felicity, when those persons shall think it time it should be consummated: But certainly I am indebted for this Honour to the duty she conceius herself engaged to upon the account of her Virtue, without the interposition of any the least favourable reflection of hers upon me. And whereas she without any the least repugnance submits to the disposal of Octavia, as to what I may expect from her, I am accordingly confident, that, should my fortune happen to be otherwise than it is in the apprehension of the Princess her Mother, she would without any regret receive from her a command never to see me again, and would with as little difficulty obey it. Nay I may further affirm, that she never let fall any of those speeches which are the ordinary expressions of a tender heart, nor could I ever receive any of those favours, whereby the hopes of a Lover may be improved. I may say the same of those slight ones, which it would not derogate from the greatest severity to grant: and yet, all this supposed, if it may be lawful for me to retract, I quarrel not at my condition; and as we receive trivial presents from covetous persons with more acknowledgement than the profusions of the prodigal; so do I imagine this little, coming from a person very thirsty of her favours, should amount to as much with me, as all I were able to receive from a person of a more liberal inclination, who did her selfless violence in bestowing much then Antonia should in parting with what were most inconsiderable. These sentiments, replied young Ptolomey, with a shake of his head, are very much consistent with prudence and virtue, and I am confident these fair Princesses, and haply some others whose minds are distorted by these pernicious maxims, will not stick to approve them: but, for my part, since there is a difference between my inclinations and yours, as being one extremely taken with mildness and compliance, and have a natural aversion for trouble, and whatever may prove the occasion of any, I cannot but hope your pardon, with that of these fair Ladies, if I cannot close with your judgement, nor yet with theirs, as such, if I am not mistaken as differs not much from yours. I think it no presumption in myself to affirm, I have as great a love for Virtue as any o●her, and that I infinitely esteem it in the person I effect, but I expect it should be a Virtue moderated by a certain ingredient of sweetness, and that it be not of those savage Virtues that admit of no civilization. In a word, Severity, palliate it with the fairest names you please, is a qualification I do not find those attractions in as haply you do; and am of opinion, that Ovid, whom, in the Art of Loving we are all to look on as our grand Master, will rather confirm my sentiment than yours, and that if he hath discovered the several inclinations of those Ladies among whom he hath disposed himself, I dare engage for him he will not make his addresses to the most severe.  
Ovid coming up to them upon the hearing of his name mentioned, and having heard the several discourses of Drusus and Ptolomey, thought himself obliged to engage in the conversation▪ and thereupon addressing himself to Ptolomey, Neither you, nor I, said he to him, shall well be able to establish our Maxims here, & if these fair Ladies must be admitted Judges of the differences, 'tis out of all doubt they will give sentence rather on Drusus 's side than ours. And indeed, as I find not myself furnished with sufficient circumspection to be a regular observer of these Maxims, so am I not on the other side so destitute as that I would absolutely follow yours, as conceiving that between both there may be a mean found out, wherein such persons as are not overhard to be pleased may meet with satisfaction. 'Tis not to be denied, but that Wisdom, Modesty, and Reservedness in the person beloved have a very powerful influence over a mind passionately devoted in Virtue, and that they imprint in it a respect whereby a sincere Love is extremely fortified: But the obliging caresses, the attractive favours, and those other demonstrations of affection which we receive from the person beloved, are attended by a certain miraculous Virtue to improve a budding Love to maturity, and cultivate an affection already arrived to some growth. And as, according to the judgement you have given of it, I seem to be more inclined to this party than the other, I must needs, to make it most plausible I can, add to what I have said, that if I Love, suitably to the rate of things corporal, stood in need of any thing as nourishment in order to its augmentation, it is in what we call Favours, that it would find it, or it is in them at least that it is wont to seek it; and that as it commonly subsists in some Hope of Happiness, no less then in a confidence of the Merit which gave it its first birth, so is it infallibly consequent, that whatever entertains and enlivens that Hope, affords it those assistances without which it cannot grow to perfection. Now they are only Favours that are able to work that effect, 'tis from them we derive those flatteries and insinuations whereby we are insensibly immersed therein. But however I may plead for Favours, I shall advance nothing derogatory from Prudence and Modesty, and so admit of this regulation, That as to the Favours we are to be desirous of, they ought to be such as may be attendant on the qualifications aforesaid, and not inconsistent with Virtue.  
And where, I pray, says Arsinoe, interrupting him, will you find there may be such Favours granted in Love as Virtue can admit? Not indeed in the inclinations of the cruel Delia, replied Ovid, one that in stead of the Favours which the Virtuous Prince that adored her might but too justly have expected, hath wearied him with a thousand discoveries of her cruelty, which treatment it cannot be said she was upon any consideration of her Virtue obliged to. I am very confident, replied as roundly Arsinoe, that if I had been ever so little too liberal of that which you call Favours, towards the Prince that loved me, his affection, which I ever dearly esteemed, and was entertained by that little discretion which I had received from Heaven, would never have been so violent as to incline him to marry me, and to offer me with himself the Crown of his Fathers, at a time when he had no reason to look on me otherwise, then as a wretch cast upon his Territories by a tempest, and more probably one issued from the dregs of a popular extraction, then of a rank equal to his own. What you say may possibly be true, replies Ovid, but if your Severity absolutely wrought this effect, it having been your good fortune to have to do with the most constant and most amorous of all Lovers, 'twere but fit you withal reflected on all those others which it was like to have produced, the dreadful misfortunes whereto you have exposed him, and that particularly wherein it is not impossible he might have spent his whole life, if Hazard, and not your Prudence, had not put a period thereto by his happy meeting with you. So that when you have summed up all, you will give me leave to tell you, there is a generous and innocent kind of Favours, which might have spared you both many a sorrowful day, and which you might safely have granted him without any prejudice to your Virtue. It is of these only that I intended to speak, not only because the sentiment consequent thereto is the more noble, but also that it is really my judgement they are the more proper to entertain Love, than those that proceed from an excess of Liberality (to keep to the expressions of Drusus) for besides that I think it but necessary for the person beloved to keep herself in the esteem she expects from the Lover, in order to the continuation and conservation of his Love; I am easily persuaded that Satiety soon smothers Desire, and that the absolute possession of what might have been wished, not admitting any further object of wishing, takes off the edge of that passion whence it first sprung. There are many things which I might, from this question, take occaon to insist on, were it not that it is to be debated before such Judges as are not likely to prove much favourable to Ptolomey 's party: But I shall not press it any further, and think it enough, to maintain, that, as there are a sort of criminal favours, such as cannot be desired of the person beloved, without running the hazard of her displeasure, so there is also a kind of Favours (which I could particularise were I commanded to do it) levelled only to keep in the flame of a Virtuous Love, and consistent with Prudence, though not with Severity.  
Ovid could have said much more upon the present difference; but he thought fitter to forbear, as knowing that the greatest part of those that heard him would not have favoured his opinion; and imagining withal, that, in the presence of so great Princesses, he could not be too reserved and circumspect, he thought it enough to whisper Ptolomey in the ear, That he would have maintained his Cause after much another rate, had the business been to be debated before Julia.  
There was upon this a small interval of general silence, which Ptolomey taking advantage of, whispers Cleopatra in the ear; Sister, said he to her, you are extremely inquisitive into the affairs of Drusus and Antonia, and have not thought it worth your ask what posture mine are in with Marcia. You betray so much indiscretion this day, replies the Princess, speaking somewhat louder than he had done to her, that I am loath to ask you any thing, lest I should engage you into the discovery of things that shall speak as little reason as those have fallen from you already. 'Tis therefore to be revenged on you, replied the Prince, that I tell you I am much more in her favour than you could have wished me, if I may measure your wishes by the humour you are in at the present: And if I could but be persuaded never to depart out of her sight, or would act the musing and the melancholy Lover, I think it would be taken as a great sign of the earnestness of my affection. Cleopatra made no other answer to this discourse of Ptolomey then that of a smile, telling him withal, That it was not handsome to whisper so long before such high company; and at the same time putting some questions to Drusus and Lentulus about what had passed in Augustus' Court since her departure thence, they both gave her some account thereof, and thereupon entered into a conversation, wherein Lentulus, who till then had spoken very little, took occasion so to display the riches of his Wit and Judgement, that it was the general acknowledgement of the company, that he was a person of very excellent parts. Artemisa having viewed him a long time, and harkened to him with much attention, being come up along with the company to a place where there were seats, and where all were preparing to sit down, took the Princess Cleopatra a little aside, and whispering her in the ear so as no body could hear, Sister, said she to her, I have seen the faces, and know the adventures of Drusus and Ptolomey, but I pray tell me whether this Lentulus be the same you made mention of in your discourse, who by a strange accident fell in love with Cicero▪ s Daughter, that Tullia, who, after she had by her cruelty occasioned the banishment of Julius Antonius, fell in love with Ptolomey? Cleopatra having told her that it was the very same, and withal given him the character of a very considerable person among the Romans, in regard as well of his birth as merit, Ah Sister, added the Armenian Princess, are you not desirous I should know the consequence and the success of that love whereof you acquainted me with the first eruption, and which by its strange beginning hath raised in me no small curiosity? I do not know so much of it, replies the Daughter of Anthony, as that I dare promise you any great satisfaction by the discourse I might entertain you with thereof; and I am absolutely ignorant of what may have happened to them since our departure from Rome, where we left them, and whence he came within these few days, which haply is of greatest consequence: But if you are so desirous of it, I am confident you may promise yourself satisfaction from Lentulus himself, and I think I may presume so far upon him as to make the proposition to him.  
With that she calls Lentulus to her, while the other Princesses were taking their seats, and having in few words acquainted him how that in the discourse she had made to Artemisa of the Affairs of their Family, she had not forborn to give her some account of his concernments in the adventures of Ptolomey, and that having informed her of the original of his Love to Tullia, an adventure so much beside the ordinary rate, had raised in that Princess so great an earnestness to know the success thereof, that she thought herself obliged to entreat him to satisfy her as to that particular, in case there were nothing he would be desirous to conceal; assuring him further that besides the obligation he should put upon her, he might absolutely trust himself to the discretion of that Princess, as one that had very much the faculty to conceal those things, whereof the discourse or discovery might prove either regretful or prejudicial to him. Lentulus, at the first start of this discourse of Cleopatra, seemed to be a little surprised thereat, but it was not long ere he recovered himself: And being one that had abundance of respect and compliance for her, he protested it would be with no small satisfaction to himself, that he should endeavour to give her all the demonstrations she could desire of his obedience: And that since the Princess Artemisa was desirous of the History of his afflictions, he would satisfy her desires when ever she pleased to command him to do it, and should be very glad to take that occasion to express the respects he had for her, and which he was ambitious to render as well to her merit as her friendship, and with that to the affection of Prince Alexander, whom he had ever had a very high esteem of, and of whose adventures he had heard some part in his way towards Alexandria. Artemisa made a civil return to that obliging discourse of Lentulus, and having excused her curiosity by alleging her concernments in the adventures of a person of his worth, and a good Friend of Alexander's, they consulted together about the time wherein this relation was to be made and having resolved that it must of necessity be done that day, because of the arrival of the Emperor, after which they should have such leisure as they then had, it was concluded it should not be put off any longer then to the end of their walking. And whereas the Princess Cleopatra was ignorant of some part of the Adventures of Lentulus, and those, as she told him, the most important, they resolved that Artemisa should return along with her to her Chamber, where, after they had desired that liberty of Candace and Elisa, they would stay with Lentulus, and hear the relation he was to entertain them withal. The business was put in execution as it had been resolved, and the fair Princesses having their recreation in walking an hour longer, those that were lodged in the Palace returned thither, taking Artemisa along with them; Cleopatra having persuaded Olympia and Arsinoe, that it was out of a design she had to bring her to the acquaintance of a Brother of Alexander's. In a word, they were no sooner gotten into Cleopatra's Chamber, whither they were followed by Ptolomey, Drusus, and Lentulus, but she acquainted Ptolomey how much their whole House was indebted to Artemisa for the safety of Alexander, and the extraordinary obligation which she herself stood in to that Princess; and the young Prince, who had understood something of it, finding in the person of Artemisa all things worthy his respects and the Love of Alexander, rendered that fair Princess whatever might be due to her from his Brother, and expressed the resentment he had for her goodness, and the honour she did their house, with all imaginable acknowledgement and civility. Which passed, he grew very impatient to know what was become of Alexander, whom he thought to have ●ound in Alexandria, since that Artemisa was there: But Cleopatra told him, that he was gone thence with Marcellus, and that she was in hopes of his return thither that day, or at furthest on the morrow.  
After this discourse and some other, whereby Artemisa and Ptolomey mutually discovered the respects they had one for the other, the Princess Cleopatra acquainted Ptolomey with the design they had to understand the adventures of Lentulus, upon which notice he took away Drusus along with him, and left them alone with Lentulus. Cleopatra, going to Elisa and Candace, entreated of them an hour's liberty to satisfy the curiosity of Artemisa, promising them to return immediately after Supper, and to pass away the Evening with them. Being, after this precaution given, returned into her own Chamber, where she had left Artemisa with Lentulus, they went all together into the Closet, taking only Camilla with them; where being sat, and having seated Lentulus near them, when he perceived they gave him attention, he began his discourse (which Cleopatra ordered him to address to the Princess Artemisa, as the least acquainted with his adventures) and spoke in these terms.  

The History of LENTULUS and TULLIA.  
IT was no slight enterprise that I engaged upon when I undertook the service of Cicero's Daughter, and had I examined apparences, I could have expected but small success in the disputeof a Heart prepossessed beforehand by a strong passion and that raised by a merit such as that of Ptolomey, a person illustrious and recommendable for his Birth and Virtue, and one amiable in all things. Nor indeed was it any effect of my Will that inclined me to prosecute that resolution, but I was dragged to the pursuance thereof by the importunity of a Passion, to abate which, all the opposition of Reason Proved ineffectual, as being so strong, that disarming me of all the assistances which the other might have supplied me with to fortify myself against its violence, left me no other liberty then that of sighing, and considering, to my grief, the sad and sudden change of my condition. Certain it is, that I went out of Lucullus' Garden, a place fatal to me for the loss of my freedom, as really, and as passionately in love, as I could have been, had I, for the space of several years, suffered under the influence of Tullia's attraction, and that I was as much metamorphosed during those few minutes, wherein was effected that engagement upon my soul, as if I had spent a considerable part of my life in the service of that person, to whom my Destiny had but newly enslaved me. Those things which should have secured me against that growing Passion, contributed to my further engagement therein: For howe'er it must be acknowleded that the fair Tullia was infinitely amiable, and really able to raise love in persons much less inclined thereto then myself, yet is it my opinion, that, of a long time, I should not have submitted to the yoke she hath forced upon me, if, in that fatal instant, her beauty, though of a virtue to work a far more miraculous effect, had not received a certain supply from her grief that made it more attractive than ordinary, and afforded it those forces, against which my heart could not make the least resistance. Those tears, whereof all-her constancy could not obstruct the passage, gliding from her fair eyes down her beautiful face, and which (contrary to their opinion who would attribute that effect rather to laughter and joy) gave a new lustre to her beauty; the languishing sweetness was so remarkable in her eyes and all over her countenance; the gracefulness of her singing, perfored with much Art, and heightened by an admirable voice; the words, wherein, notwithstanding the eclipse of her passion, she discovered so much prudence, and so great virtue; in a word, so many several things having conspired together to give my heart the fatal assault, wrought it in the first place into a certain tenderness, grief, and compassion, and afterwards reduced it into such a posture, as that it was in an absolute incapacity to make the least opposition against the imperious Passion that possessed itself thereof. In fine, Madam, I was in love, nay in an instant was eagerly in love with the beautiful, the afflicted and the passionate Tullia. Ptolomey, to whom I discovered my affection, at first made sport at it, but afterwards bemoaned my Destiny. From that very first day was I grown a great lover of solitude, and I thought all company insupportable, but that which I had then left. During the remainder of that day, and the night following, I imagined to myself that Tullia was perpetually present, in the same condition I had seen her, as well engaged in the conversation she had had with Emilia in the Arbour, as at my last meeting with her, when I had her swooning in my arms, and saw her breathless in Emilia's lap. The night which for that time had drawn a curtain over her fair eyes, and the paleness which during those few minutes spread itself over her countenance, seemed not to me to have taken aught from her Beauty: So that whenever I represented her to me in that posture, and that it came into my thoughts it was for Ptolomey, an ungrateful obstinate young man, who had seen her in that affliction without being moved to the least compassion; O ye Gods, cried I, is it possible that Tullia, the object of my adorations, should be reduced to these extremities for a persons sake who is not in the least sensible of her sufferings? and that he who is ready to die for her, dares not hope for any part of that which another so ungratefully disdains! O Tullia, what cruel Destiny reigns over thee, that thou must love him that shuns thee, and art so insensible of his devotions that dies for thee! O Ptolomey, is there any necessity that thou shouldst be possessor of a Good thou dost contemn, and that thy unfortunate Friend should derive from that Good, which thou deprivest him of without the least enjoyment to thyself, all his hopes, and all the happiness of his life! O Lentulus, must thou needs fall in love with Tullia, whose soul is insusceptible of all impressions other then what it hath received for Ptolomey or shouldst thou hate Ptolomey, who, though not chargeable with any such design, will prove the occasion of all thy unhappiness.  
Such and the like expressions did my first agitation break forth itself in; whereupon making some reflections on the change of my fortune, I summoned all the assistances of my Reason, the better to fortify myself against it. Not that I could hearken to any consideration that should divert me from continuing my addresses to Tullia; if my own inclinations engaged me thereto, save only that of the love she was prepossessed with for Ptolomey, which misfortune only removed, all things else seemed to encourage me in the services I had for that excellent person, as well in regard of her disposition, as her birth, and the equality of our conditions, which gave me much reason to hope a fortunate issue of my design; but that one obstacle appeared so formidable and so cruel, that upon the least reflection I made on it, I fell into a kind of irrecoverable affliction. There had been heretofore a very great enmity between our Families, upon occasion, that one of our House and Name had been unfortunately engaged in Catiline's Conspiracy, which Cicero, during the time of his Consulship, had discovered; insomuch, that Lentulus, with Cithegus, and divers others of the noblest Families in Rome lost their lives for it: But since Cicero s death these divisions had been appeased; and though the familiarity between me and his Son was not very great, it proceeded rather out of the intractableness of his disposition, than any resentment might be left of our differences. So that looking on myself as of a considerable rank among the Romans, and sufficiently advantaged as to all those things that come into the considerations of Marriage, I might with reason entertain a confidence, that Cicero and all Tullia's Friends would not have slighted me, had I acquainted them with the design I had to serve her, since they had before allowed of the addresses of Cecinna, who (I may speak it without flattery to myself) could not be preferred before me. But I should rather have submitted to the absolute defeat of all my hopes, then endeavour the attainment of my felicity by that way: And though I had some reason to imagine, that Cicero would, the more to oblige me, have forced his Sister to a compliance, as one that, notwithstanding the prae-disposal of her affection, would have out of Prudence, submitted to his desires; yet should I have chosen rather to continue unfortunate all my life, then make a Conquest of Tullia by any other disposal than her own, or owe my happiness to any thing but her free inclinations.  
And this manner of proceeding I thought very rational; for if, after I had applied myself to her Brother, Tullia herself should have refused to comply with his intentions, or that her Brother, sensible of her aversion thereto, would not have exercised the power he had over her to my satisfaction, I must have born all the shame and regret of such an overture; and it, on the contrary, Tullia conforming herself to the will of Cicero would have consent▪ to my pretensions, as it might be hoped from such a prudence as she was owner of, I must needs, with no small regret, be assured, as being satisfied of her affection for Ptolomey, that, to prosecute my own contentment, I should make a person I loved beyond myself, the most unfortunate upon earth, and so might justly fear, that notwithstanding all her virtue, I should never have the absolute possession of a Heart which lay so strongly engaged elsewhere. This Heart therefore was that I resolved the conquest of, or rather to dispossess it of the Love it was fortified with for Ptolomey: and this resolution I saw well enough could not be effectuated but through a many difficulties, it being no ordinary Masterpiece in the Art of Love, to force out of a Soul an impression engraven therein by an excessive merit, especially such a one as that of Tullia, who had expressed such a height of constancy in the generous opposition she made against the love of Julius Antonius, a Prince truly great and shining in all those qualities that make a person amiable. 'Tis true, I could not but conceive a little weak glimpse of hope from the assurance I had of Ptolomey's backwardness to meet her love, or rather from the profession he had made to me, that he would never love her while he lived: and accordingly infer thence, that the great courage of Tullia would at last be tir d out by the disdain of that young man, and that she would endeavour to break those bonds, which could not but make something for my advantage. But Madam, be pleased but to favour me with a slight reflection on the strange posture of my affairs, and consider how much I deserved compassion. No question, but it must needs be a great satisfaction to me, that Ptolomey would not love Tullia, and that I grounded not my happiness on any thing so much as the a version he had for her: Yet were there certain intervals wherein the sincere affection I had for her put me upon wishes much against myself, as such as wherein I should be far from desiring he might not love her: for, loving her beyond myself how advantageous soever it might prove to me, I could not wish her perpetually unfortunate through the aversion of what she so much affected. During those reflections I knew not how I ought to demean myself towards him; but certain it is, I durst not, without a great violence to myself, have entreated him to continue his cruelty towards a person whom I adored; and though I should have been much troubled to see him earnestly fallen in love with Tullia, yet had I such a tenderness for her contentment, when my own was so much concerned, that I never made it my request to him that he should not love her.  
In the mean time, I thought it long to have another sight of those fair eyes that hath wounded me so deeply; but having no great acquaintance at Cicero'e house, but being well known to Emilia, and her Husband Scipio, of them it was that I expected some assistance, and consequently to them was it fit I should address myself. The first visit I made to Emilia, I intended not to make any mention at all of Tullia, to prevent an imagination she might conceive, that I visited her only out of some design I had upon her. But she spoke of her first; and whereas the accident that had happened to her in our presence gave her occasion enough to bring her upon the Stage, she soon engaged me upon that discourse, and put me into no small affliction, when she told me that ever since that fatal day she had lain very sick, nay that her sickness was not without some danger, as to her life. Had Emilia taken notice of my countenance when she gave me thataccount of her, she might have observed in it such a change as would in some measure have acquainted her with what passed in my Heart. That I was extremely troubled at the misfortune of her Friend was a thing I could not dissemble, as what might have been attributed to pure civility and the respects I had for her; whereupon I took occasion to tell her, That I had conceived an infinite esteem for that excellent person, and should take it as a great obligation done me, might I ●e admitted to wait on her in a visit to that distressed Lady. Emilia told me that might easily be done, when Tullia's indisposition were a little remitted, and that she would take me with her, when she were to be seen; but for that time her condition was such, as that she in a manner saw none but herself, and hardly bore with the conversation of her nearest hindered. In a word, Madam, it is not easily imaginable what strange things passed in Tullia's thoughts at that time; and since my relation is to dilate itself into an historical account of her as well as myself, I shall acquaint you with that part thereof, which hath since come to my knowledge.  
That excellent person, in whom a Passion raised by the indignation of Heaven might well disturb her enjoyments, but neither alter her virtue, nor abate her courage, had been sensibly moved at the insulting behaviour of Ptolomey towards her. And whereas there could nothing fall from him, but must be levelled right at the Heart, the disdain he had expressed towards her, proved not only the occasion of her swooning and the weakness consequent thereto, but also left in her mind an impression of grief, which made the body feel some part of the indisposition of the mind: insomuch that she was no sooner retired with Emilia, but she was put into a bed with a violent Fever, and for some days after was in some danger. I have been informed that the danger she was in, as to point of life, such as not a little alarmed her Friends, seemed to be very welcome to her, and that seeing herself fallen into a misfortune, which she looked on no otherwise then a crime, she thought herself unworthy to live, and was desirous to see the period of her life, that she might see the end of a Passion, which, in her judgement, eclipsed all the glory of it, and must have darkened her memory with shame and confusion. Her indisposition therefore, producing in her mind an effect wholly contrary to what it was wont to do in other persons, brought her a double satisfaction, partly through the supply she expected from it against the grief she was o'rburthened with, partly by reason of the convenience she derived from it to humour her melancholy thoughts without the disturbance of conversation and company, and the opportunity she had to disguise the diseases of her mind with the appearances of those of her body.  
Hence came it, that during her sickness, she admitted few visits, and unless it were those whom she must of necessity see, only Emilia had access to her. And whereas she was the only person she admitted into the Cabinet of her most secret apprehensions, to her alone was it that she made her complaints, and disburdened her affliction, and of her alone did she expect an an abatement thereof. You now see, said she to her, you now see me reduced to the condition I have so often wished myself, in ever since that insupportable misfortune befell me which hath blasted all the lustre of my days, and wherewith you only are acquainted. You see Death, which only can furnish us with necessary remedies, comes in to my assistance according to my wishes, and the need I stood in of him; and I hope that by his means you will be delivered from the shame which you may suffer through either my weakness or want of courage. The insolent Youth, who triumphs over my heart and all the glory of my life, shall never know his victory, and shall not have the satisfaction either to laugh at my weakness, or hug himself in his own revenge. This life, which continued had exposed me to such miscarriages as might have discovered to him my misfortune, and his own advantage, now draws towards its period, and it is already grown too insupportable and odious to me, not to entertain the approaches of Death without abundance of comfort. O Tullia, had it been the good pleasure of the Gods to shorten thy unfortunate thread but some few months before thou hadst died in the height of an unblemished Glory! But thou wouldst not haply have wanted some desires do live, whereas now thou are ready to lose it, with a satisfaction equal to what other persons are sensible of in the Meridian of their best fortunes.  
To this effect was the discourse she made to Emilia, who, out of the sincere Friendship she had for her, dissolved into tears to hear her speak, and forbore not to make those remonstrances to her which she thought any way likely to divert her from that aversion which seemed to have for life. But her discourses wrought little on the apprehensions of Tullia; and whereas, notwithstanding the greatness of her courage, the wound she had received galled the very bottom of her heart, she could not put out of her thoughts, nor indeed forbear to speak of him that had given it her; Ah my dear Emilia, said she, looking on her with a certain insinuation of passion, could the cruel adversary but have guessed at the true cause of the accident that's befallen me, how confident and fiery had he been, and, if I mistake not his humour, how insolently would he have trampled on a wretch, against whom he is exasperated for the disgrace of Julius Antonius! With what scorn would he have aggravated my unhappiness, had he but known the advantage my cruel Destiny had given him over my heart; & with what presumption would he not have looked on this deplorable change of my humour and fortune● I am of opinion, said Emilia, to comfort her, that he would be have himself much otherwise, and that if he were satisfied of the affection you have for him, I do not think but he would be sensible thereof. Ah, my dear Emilia, replies the Daughter of Cicero, flatter me not, by telling me that which abates nothing of my grief! I am very confident that Ptolomey neither loves me nor ever will love me while he lives; but you have heard it from me already, and shall find me affirming it to the last gasp, That, though I were really loved by him, yet would his affection contribute nothing to my content; that I should slight it as I have done that of his Brother, and that he should sooner come to the knowledge of my death, then of the true sentiments I have for him. Not that the pure hatred I have for his House obliges me to this kind of procedure, or that I have not as much reason to hate the son of Cleopatra as the son of Fulvia; but my precedent actions are the rule whereby I regulate the subsequent; and that since I have dealt as I did with Julius Antonius, I ought to continue my constancy to the end, and die rather than remit any thing of it.  
These were her ordinary discourses, the real expressions of her apprehensions at that time; but not long after, what resistance soever she could make against that which she called weakness, she could not forbear falling into it. So that looking on Emilia with an aspect not discovering any mark of that violence, which she had but so lately expressed, Emilia, said she to her, I desire you by all the Friendship that hath passed between us, to tell me, without any flattery, a thing I very much long to know, & I which cannot ask without confusion; Did you observe how Ptolomey entertained the accident that happened to me for his sake; and while I lay panting for breath betweens your arms, and in his presence, saw you in his countenance any mark of grief or compassion? seemed he to be any way moved at so sad a spectacle, or did he make a reflection upon it like that of his companion, whose countenance upon the first opening of my eyes I perceived bathed in tears? Emilia could not tell her truly that Ptolomey had seemed moved thereat as I was; and yet she as much as lay in her power disguised his insensibility, and endeavoured to represent with the greatest advantage the service which the Prince had done her upon that occasion, though proceeding from pure civility. Though Tullia could not absolutely believe what she said, yet for some small time she harkened, with satisfaction, to what flattered her humour; but afterwards returning to her diffidences and resolutions, Flatter me no longer, my dear Emilia, said she, I must die, 'tis the only remedy I know to get out of my miseries, and the only one whereto without shame I can have recourse.  
Thus did Tullia pass over some days, during which, through the little love she had to life, she really brought it into some danger: but she was opportunely relieved, and by the continual attendance and consolations of Emilia, her body and mind receiving some refreshment, she grew somewhat better, and within a small time gave hopes of a perfect recovery. From the time that I first understood from Emilia that she was sick, I either sent, or went myself every day to Emilia's to inquire after her health: And Emilia having several times acquainted her with it, she flattered herself into an imagination, that Ptolomey, whom I daily conversed with, might be somewhat concerned in that civility; insomuch that I have been told, that imagination, wherein Emilia confirmed her all that lay in her power, contributed not a little to her recovery.  
As soon as any were permitted to visit her, Emilia, whom I daily solicited to that purpose, took me along with her, yet representing it to me as a very particular favour, and making me believe, that Tullia as yet suffered but very few persons to come to her. She still kept her bed, as being not thought strong enough to get up, though her Fever had left her some days before: But even in the condition she seemed to be in, though she were very pale by reason of her sickness, yet my love enlightening my eyes and imagination, represented her to me more beautiful than any thing that pretends to beauty. The sight of her raised a little disturbance in me, and her looking on me, bringing Ptolomey into her mind, it might be perceived she was somewhat troubled and surprised. Coming near the bed, Emilia, who presented me to her, assuming the discourse; Lentulus, said she to Tullia, was so officious to relieve you in that accident which occasioned your indisposition, that it is but just he should be admitted among the first to visit you, and that he should congratulate the recovery of your health proportionably to the affliction he conceived at your sickness.  
I was in such a disturbance through the earnestness of my Passion, or, to say better, at such a loss, that, not able to add any thing to Emilia's discourse, I suffered Tullia to second what she said, who gave me thanks as well for the assistance I had afforded her in Lucullus' Garden, as the tenderness I had expressed towards her during her sickness, and the pains I had taken to visit her. I replied to her discourse in the compliments ordinary upon such occasions, and which I repeat not, because that kind of entertainment deserves not to be brought upon the Stage a second time, nor indeed any thing of the conversation that passed between us at that first visit, which was only about things indifferent. Only I am to tell you, that I went away much more sick than I had been before; and that this second sight and the discourses of Tullia widened my wound to above half what it was before.  
Two days after that visit I gave her another upon my own account, and, by the conversation we had together, making experience of the admirable excellencies of her mind, if before I was in love, it might have been now said, I had lost myself in it. No doubt, but my eyes, and certain sighs which I was not able to keep in, might have given her some notice of what I suffered in my heart, but my tongue was far from the like confidence, as having put me into such a fear at the first as made me dumb as soon I would open my mouth to discover myself. I bethought myself therefore to manifest my intentions by other ways more solemn than those of discourse; so that the day being come on which is celebrated the birth of Augustus by divers magnificent spectacles, wherein the young Nobility of Rome is wont to appear with abundance of splendour, and to adorn their persons and their equipage with the Liverties of the Ladies they serve, I resolved to make my appearance in the Shows with the Liveries of Tullia, disposing of them all about, as well on myself as my Chariot, and all the persons of my retinue. I may presume to affirm, that I was not to be numbered among those that made least appearances there, and if Drusus' magnificence had not obscured all that was to be seen that day, I might haply have been observed as well as divers others,  
The Colours of Tullia are white and green, which I interlaced all about with her characters, disposing them as well upon my Arms as upon whatever belonged to me intermingled with Mottoes and Devices, which as they expressed my Gallantry, so were they also in some manner the demonstrations of my Passion. I shall not need to trouble you, Madam, with any relation thereof, because I doubt not but that the Princess Cleopatra hath given you a particular account of the magnificences of that day, since she hath acquainted you with the Loves of Erusus, who carried away all the glory of it. Ptolomey, who was present when I put on my clothes, and took order for all things that day, and who only knew what none else could imagine, of what I had in my thoughts, could not, though he withal bemoaned my case, forbear laughing at the earnestness I discovered towards a person that was at such a distance from the affection I might expect from her, and in whom haply he, by reason of his a version had not observed those excellencies, which have proved Charms and Chains to me. Many persons took notice in the solemnities of that day, that my appearance therein was in the quality of Servant to Tullia; though they were ignorant whether it proceeded from Love, or was a pure piece of Gallantry, as it might have happened.  
But the next day going to Emilia's, whom I constantly visited, and whose favour it was my main business to acquire; as soon as ever she saw me, You are very much to be commended, said she to me, for being so mindful of those that are sick and absent, and I shall take occasion every where to celebrate your Generosity, which hath made you neglect so many fair Ladies that were in health, and present at the solemnities, to bestow the honour of your magnificence on one that was absent and indisposed, whom we may be haply acquainted with. No question but she is of your acquaintance, replied I very seriously, but you were not very familiar with my intention, if you call that Generosity which proceeds from a far more powerful cause; and I may very well have endeavoured to bestow one day with the greatest solemnity on her to whose service I have devoted those of my whole life. Are you in good earnest, replies Emilia, or is it yet a small remainder of Gallantry whereof, to the honour of my Friend, you made so great ostentation? I speak to you, replied I, but with too much sincerity; and as I dare acknowledge myself to you guilty of a Passion full of love, innocence, and virtue, without derogating from the respect I owe you, so I despair not your pardon if I tell you, that I am and shall be while I live infinitely in love with Tullia.  
Upon that expression, Emilia putting on a serious countenance. I think my Kinswoman very happy, said she to me, to have gained the affections of a person equal, as to worth and extraction, to Lentulus; and certainly I could not have wished any thing more to her advantage. But since the esteem I have for you is extraordinary, and that I am truly tender of both your fortune and satisfaction, I conceive myself obliged to tell you, that Tullia's mind is much different from the apprehension you may have of it; and it is much my fear, that, as things stand, you will not make those advantages of your merit and the demonstrations of you Love, which I could wish you might; and consequently, though I am as much as may be a Friend to Tullia, I would advise you, if it be possible, to dispose your affections elsewhere. This discourse of Emilia added nothing to the difficulty I had foreseen myself, and assured of the sincerity wherewith she spoke to me, I was the more inclined to make a further discovery of my condition to her, and to beg her assistance.  
While things stood thus between us, comes in Scipio, of whose Friendship having a more than ordinary confidence, I made no difficulty to proceed before him in the discourse I had begun to his Lady, & having repeated to him what I had already said of my inclinations for Tullia, and protested to both, that that Passion should never expire but with my life, I begged their assistance in a design whereat their Friend could take no offence, and to further my acquest of her Heart, which was the only thing I wished in the world, as being resolved not to make any application to her Brother, till she should approve my so doing, and favour my pretensions herself.  
Emilia and Scipio listened to my discourse with much attention and seemed to be troubled at the knowledge they had of my being thus engaged; but not both equally, in as much as Scipio, being ignorant of Tullia's Passion for Ptolomey, and foreseeing nothing might so much oppose my intentions as Tullia's severity, conceived a hope that with time and a constancy of addresses it might be overcome: But Emilia, who knew much more than her Husband, judged otherwise of the business, and was almost at despair of all good success. She alleged to me all the reasons she could, concealing only those which she knew to be most pressing and persuasive, to divert me from that affection. I knew them as well as herself, but thought it not sit to discover so much, out of an opinion that she had not acquainted her Husband with that secret of her Friend, and a conceit, that it was yet too soon to give her an account of the knowledge I had of it. In fine, they promised me all the assistance which their interest with Tullia could procure, though Emilia sufficiently discovered that it was with little hope of success that she made me that promise, and that it was apparent in the carriage of Scipio, that the unfortunate issue of the design he had been engaged in to serve Julius Antonius in his addresses to that inexorable Beauty, had much deterred him from undertaking the like employment for any other that should pretend to her affections. And yet, they might both very well undertake to do me some favour in my affairs, without any injury to the Friendship they had for Tullia; and if I may be allowed to speak it myself, both as to birth, and whatever else is of importance in order to marriage, the advantage of the Match lay rather on my side then Tullia's; nor could Emilia, though ever so much concerned in her affairs, do any thing more truly advantageous for her Friend, then by endeavouring to wean her out of an affection contrary to her content, glory, and establishment, to engage her into another, wherein she might find whatever she lost in the other.  
From that very day, did she endeavour to represent, as a very great obligation, what I had done for her honour at the public Shows, and to persuade her, that it was not, as she would needs interpret it, an effect of pure Gallantry. Tullia was as earnest in the contrary opinion, and maintained very stiffly, that there was yet less probability it should proceed from any love to her, and that in all likelihood I could not have fallen in love with a person I had no oftener seen, and whom, when I had, I had found in a condition more likely to raise compassion then love. After a long contestation, wherein Emilia thought it not fit to acquaint her with the confession I had made to her; I should be very glad, added she, pretending to comply with Tullia's judgement, my opinion should prove false, and yours true; and whereas Lentulus is no doubt a person of very much worth, and deserves a very good fortune, all that know him are obliged to wish for his sake, that he would not address his affections where they are so slightly entertained. You are much in the right, answers Tullia, and it is the greatest misfortune could have happened to Lentulus, to love an unfortunate wretch that shall never be capable of any sentiments for him, other than the esteem due to his Merit, and one whose heart is already unhappily engaged for that remainder which she expects of life. It may be hoped, replies Emilia, that that engagement will not bear date with your life, and besides the assistance you may expect from your courage, it is not impossible but that the services of some worthy person that casts his affection on you will force out of your mind the memory of a man that neither loves you, nor you would by any means affect. Ah, my dear Emilia, replies Tullia, let's have no more discourse of it! you are too well acquainted with my misfortune to be really of that opinion, nor is it for me to flatter myself any longer in the misery whereto I am reduced. With these words she so burst forth into tears, that Emilia, deploring her condition, was obliged to fall upon some other discourse.  
While Tullia continued thus in a fruitless consumption for Ptolomey, I might be truly said to die a gradual death for Tullia, and what was worst, I lay still dying, and durst not open my mouth to discover to her the disease that hastened me to my Grave: Not that I am naturally a wanting as to confidence, or that I was afraid to offend Tullia, by acquainting her with the passion I had for her; but the knowledge I had of her unfortunate prepossession benumbed my heart upon the least resolve or reflection to that purpose, as knowing not in what manner I could discover my love to a person whom I knew preengaged in another affection, and so far from being in a condition to entertain that which I had for her. Upon this consideration I passed away several days in a languishing condition, and I think I should have kept silence yet a while longer, if chance had not befriended me with that which I could not so soon have expected from my resolution. Tullia was by this time recovered, though still languishing and melancholy by reason of the indisposition of her mind, which suffered not the body to advance to perfect health; and though she were extremely given to solitude, yet could she not avoid the entertainment of divers persons that came to visit her: Having always been very much inclined to Study and Learning, and that only she of her House inherited some part of the knowledge and Eloquence of her Father, she was particularly visited by all those who were remarkable for their skill and command in the noblest Sciences. Among these, the famous Mathematian Thrasyllus, whose reputation is so great all over the world, and whom the friendship and protection of Tiberius had engaged to follow Augustus' Court, came often to see her, and conferred with her sometimes of the discoveries he made in humane affairs by the help of his Science. One day we casually met together at her Chamber, whither came also Emilia, and some other Ladies of her nearest acquaintance, with whom I passed away the time while Thrasyllus was ●n private discourse with Tullia. I was at no great distance from him; and though I talked with Hortensia, yet heard I some part of what he said to Tullia. In fine, perceiving he went on very seriously in his discourse, I harkened to him more attentively, and heard, that after some words which I repeat not, I shall not, continued he, conceal any longer from you, what I have found out of your Destiny and the state of your Mind. No doubt, but you are passionately in love, and are also as passionately loved; but this love is not disposed with with justice, in that, without making any one happy, it makes two persons extremely unfortunate. Thrasyllus, being a person better acquainted with the Stars then versed in matters of Courtship and common civility, spoke these words with so little discretion, and so loud, that Tullia could not but imagine I had over heard them. A sudden redness immediately spread itself over her face, such as since her sickness was not very ordinary there, and she was in such a confusion of thoughts, that she was absolutely at a loss what to say, or what answer to make Thrasyllus. I know not whether the notice he took of it occasioned his parting from her; but leaving her, he comes up to Hortensia whom I was in discourse with, whereupon seeing Tullia disengaged, I went to her, and left Thrasyllus with Hortensia. Tullia continued still in a thoughtful pensiveness, having not conquered the confusion into which the words of Thrasyllus had put her, or rather the persuasion she was of that I had overheard them, and the reflection she could not but make thereon, drew from her certain sighs, which she ineffectually endeavoured to smother. I looked on her for some time in that posture, and growing somewhat confident upon her silence, Madam, said I to her, may I not presume to ask you, whether your thoughts are not employed about the last words Thrasyllus spoke to you? Upon these words she recovered herself; and looking on me with a countenance languishing, yet not without mildness; It seems then, you overheard, said she to me, what Thrasyllus said to me, whence I perceive you make it your business to hearken to the discourses of others, while you were thought engaged in the entertainment of Hortensia? I have indeed, replied I, overheard Thrasyllus 's discourse, though not out of any design I had to do it; and indeed he spoke it so loud, that it was hard not to hear it to the place where I s●te: And if I am chargeable with indiscretion for acquainting you with the notice I took of it, you should pardon it, out of a consideration of the concernment I have therein, and the skill I have in some measure to explain to you what you may haply think obscure in it. I find it all so obscure, replied she, that I do not apprehend any thing of it: But though I am well satisfied of Thrasyllus 's experience and knowledge, yet do I not believe it always infallible, nor think myself obliged to trouble my thoughts to find out the explication of all he may say to me. The last thing he said to you, replied I, is, in my judgement, of great consequence, and contains something mysterious; but without any direction of the Stars, I could myself, and that with more certainty than Thrasyllus, have acquainted you with one half of what you have heard from him; and if I am ignorant who that felicified person is that may deserve your affection, I am on the other side but too infallibly certain, that it is Lentulus adores you, and Lentulus that dies for your sake.  
Tullia was a little surprised at these words; but not long after recovering herself, I see then said she to me, that your knowledge of my Destiny is much below Thrasyllus 's, or at least that you dissemble what you do know, and would speak after another rate, if you were either better skilled in it, or spoke more sincerely▪ For my sincerity, replied I, you need not, I conceive, question it, while I shall tell you things that stand in such a compliance with probability; and for the knowledge of your Destiny, the interest I have in it makes me say that I am more seen in it then Thrasyllus. But without meddling with the other part of his discourse, wherein I find little likelihood, or at least, little justice, I shall fasten only on that which I have undertaken to explain, and accordingly assure you, that I am the person meant by Thrasyllus, by whom you are passionately beloved; but I shall withal protest to you, by whatever I think most sacred, nay by yourself, whom I religiously adore, that nothing shall ever hinder me from being yours to the last gasp of my life.  
This protestation I made trembling, and by all the action thereof discovering the reality and violence of the passion that forced me to speak; and Tullia, who had heard it with a countenance more serious than she expressed before, rejoining to my discourse with an excess of modesty, I am no more obliged, said she to me, to credit this confirmation, than I was your former discourse; but shall tell you, that, having those respects I have for you, 'twould be one of my greatest afflictions it should be true. What affliction, replied I with an accent submissively passionate, can accrue to you from an Affection full of respect, innocence and virtue; and why will you envy me the glory, to serve you, a relation I prefer before the Empire of the World? You know, replies Tullia, that according to the discourse of Thrasyllus, I am only destined to make people unfortunate, and knowing you to be a person of excellent worth, as I do, nay further, being much obliged to you for the good offices you have done me, I should be much the more troubled that unhappy lot should fall on you, rather than some wretched person, whose fortunes & enjoyments I should be less tender of. Ah! Madam, replied I, bewail not my Destiny, since it is in your power to make it what you please; & call to mind, that Thrasyllus told you indeed, that you make some unfortunate, but not that you cannot but make them unforunate, I am that unfortunate man & no doubt shall be such, while my addresses are directed to you without any hope of acceptance; but if compassion, and the assurances I shall give you of my affection even to my death, may work upon your heart, I would not change fortunes with the happiest person upon earth. I cannot, replies Tullia, give you any encouragement to hope for any such change in my heart, without some design to deceive you: And since I really have too high an esteem for you to be guilty of such an intention, I am to desire your reflection on the precedent part of life, that you may thence infer what humour I am of, and what resolutions I may have taken. Further, added she, with a sigh she was not able to stifle, my life is crossed with those misfortunes which are not yet come to your knowledge, and it will be your happiness not to have to do with the person or fortunes of one wretched by decree.  
These words were accented with so pressing a Passion, that it was with much ado she kept her fair eyes from giving but too too evident marks of her affliction, and the moistness which I perceived cast a certain clowdiness about them, wrought such compassion in my soul, as that, during that interval I desired things prejudicial to myself, and wished Ptolomey loved her, that so she might be the less miserable. The sad reflection I made on that cruel circumstance of my fortune, tied up my tongue for a time; and when I was preparing to speak, Hortensia and Thrasyllus came up to us, and for all that day after I could not fasten on any private discourse with Tullia. I was not, I must confess, a little satisfied at what I had had, as imagining I had broke the Ice of my Affairs with much better success than indeed I could have expected. And though Tullia, by her Answers, had endeavoured to put me out of all hope I might derive from her discourses, yet had I not heard any thing from her which I knew not before, and methought she had without any indignation, entertained the discovery I made to her of my affection. In fine, I flattered myself into a persuasion, that my condition might be better than my expectation; and the very same day having visited Emilia at her own house, after I had given her an account of all the discourse had passed between Tullia and myself, I endeavoured to make her comprehend, that, contrary to her opinion, I might entertain some hope. Emilia, who knew what the other concealed from me, and what I knew as well as she, would not flatter me any longer, and thought it enough to say, that she heartily wished me in that affection, all the good success I could propose to myself, and which she durst not promise me.  
While things stood thus, Tullia and I were equal in this, that we both passed away the time in languishing and pensiveness, according to the prediction of Thrasillus, so as that neither being happy, we were both in a miserable condition. Only I might be said to have more freedom of passion, and more satisfaction than Tullia, in that I was not obliged to the same reservedness as she was, but at liberty to bemoan myself, and to discover a grievance which she took so much pains to conceal. Ptolomey only knew it, but no further than chance had informed him, but he had concerned himself so little in it, that he hardly remembered any thing of it; and whereas he neither visited Tullia at her house, nor came much to those places where she frequented, and that Tullia herself, desirous to conceal from him above all other persons whatsoever, what she suffered upon his account, avoided all occasions of meeting him; his presence could not afford her that abatement of her affliction which she might have received from it, and which she made it so much her business to avoid.  
Thus were we both in a kind of a Love-consumption, Tullia without hope, and without desire, I with much desire and little hope. Tullia, who had a certain esteem for me, though it lay not in her power to allow me her affection, yet expressed not her aversion otherwise then by avoiding the occasions of being with me alone, and she did it in such manner, that, knowing her engagement, as I did, I could not quarrel at her carriage towards me. Yet did it happen one day, that being at Emilia's, who was still inclined to do me all the kindness she could, I was sat all alone with her on her Friend's bedside; and being unwilling to let slip that opportunity, as such as I should not easily have recovered, after I had looked on her with all the insinuation of a respectful Passion, Is it possible, said I to her, that in the discovery I have made you of what I suffer for your sake, you should find any thing so criminal as to deserve the punishment you inflict on me; and shall I not be allowed further discourse with you, because in what I have said I have spoken too truly? The opinion I have of you, replied she, is such, that I cannot imagine you guilty of the least dissimulation or falsehood; and you might on the other side have observed, that in what I told you, I have not disguised the truth. Ah Madam, replied I, I have but too too well observed it: And might it please the Gods, that, in the prediction you have given me of my misfortune, you had spoken less truly! But O Heavens! is it possible, that all the assurances I give you, and may be able to give you, of the most consummate affection that ever was, should not any way move you; or am I born with defects so odious, as that I may not hope any entertainment of the services which I shall render you while I live? Lentulus, said she to me, with an aspect wherein appeared nothing disobliging, though it were sad it is not to be attributed to your defects that I comply not with your hopes, since I must acknowledge all things in you considerable enough to deserve a better fortune than what you imagine to yourself in my affection: if your not-advancement in your design proceed from defects, they are in my Disposition, not in your Person; and I would entreat you to be so far assured it is so, as not to hate one whose incapacity to love you is the pure effect of her misfortune. Ah! Tullia, cried I, adorable, and cruel Tullia! if what you say be true, the whole prediction of Thrasyllus must also be such, and you will give me leave to be your remembrancer, that he saith not, You are were passionately beloved, till after he had said, You were passionately in love. If it be so (replied she blushing, and putting one hand over her eyes) I think you so much the more unfortunate; for if my soul hath already received another impression, you will find it no small difficulty to efface it. If Thrasyllus be creditable in the whole (replied I) I should not despair the doint of it; for it is evident from his discourse, that that affection was not mutual, and that it is very unlikely, that with all the merit and courage you own, you can always obstinately love a person by whom you are not beloved. And there indeed I suspect there may be some falsehood; for I shall never be persuaded there can be any man whatsoever so happy as to be loved by you, without having purchased your affection by demonstrations of his own; nor any so insensible, as being loved by you, should not passionately love you again. I am not (replies Tullia) so well opinioned of myself as you seem desirous I should be, and if I could love persons of whose affection I had not received any assurance, it may also happen that the same persons would not love not me, though they were loved by me; and that much more probably, if they are supposed ignorant of my affection. And is it so easy a matter with you (replied I) to conceal▪ your affection from a person you can love, and so; without any necessity, do yourself such a violence as would make you truly unfortunate? If it were (replied Tullia) to a person, who might lawfully claim it, both by the demonstrations of his own, and the consent of those to whom I am to submit myself, I should make no great difficulty to let him know what were or aught to be approved of all the world: but if through the malice of my fortune I had conceived an inclination which ought not to be approved, and which I should condemn myself, there's nothing so certain as that I should conceal it while I lived, though that violence to myself should cost my life. I hope (added I) the gods will be more merciful then to suffer that to happen and protest to you in their presence, that this wish proceeds not so much from any concernment of mine as yours, that your sufferings would be as insupportable to me as my own; and that I should not be more unhappy in the affliction it would be to me to love you without any hope of being loved by you, then in what I should see you suffer in loving a person by whom you should n●t be beloved again. These sentiments (said she) speak abundance of Goodness: but there is a thing called Justice also, and if that misfortune should befall me, you would have much more reason to bewail my condition, then attribute your own misfortune thereto. I shall, what lies in my power, endeavour to prevent it, that I may not put you to the trouble of that obligation. Ah Madam (said I to her, with a sad accent.) I much fear this misfortune is already happened, and that there is some ground I should be assured of it, as well from the discourse of Thrasyllus, as all you have said yourself. For, in fine, if it were not so, what other reason could oblige you to tell me that the obstacle of my happiness is, in your disposition and not in my person, and that your incapacity to love me is to be attributed only to your misfortune, since you have a heart that may be moved, and that it is known you were not insensible of the affection of Cecinna? Those who were better acquainted with me than you are (replies Tullia) know that I had no love for Cecinna till his death, because it was upon my account that he came to it, and that all the sentiments I had for him proceeded merely from pity, without the contribution of any other Passion; and that as to my resolution to marry him, it was, according to my duty, out of compliance to my Brother, who was more fit to appoint me a Husband then I to choose one. And if your Brother (said I somewhat hastily) designed me to the same happiness, would you not oppose his disposal? I should still do what in duty I ought (replies Tullia) but your Virtue secures me as to any such design, & the knowledge I have of it frees my me from all fear that you will take that course to possess yourself of a person, to make her unfortunate while she lives. Your belief as to that point is rational (replied I) and how violent soever I may be for the enjoyment of that happiness, I should certainly refuse it, though 'twere offered, if I were to receive it otherwise then through your own inclinations. Nay further, Madam, (added I with a sigh) I should in my own judgement be very unfortunate▪ should I contribute aught to your being such, and I am ready arrived to some degrees of it, in that I heard those cruel words which have left me neither hope, nor love for life. That you are in Love, Madam, is a thing out of all question, pardon me the Passion that forces me to tell it you; and if you were not in love, you would not fear to be unfortunate with a man that adores you, and you acknowledge worthy some esteem.  
These last words I spoke with an action full of heat and earnestness, insomuch that Tullia was for some time at a loss what to reply, as being doubtful how she ought to take them. At last, endeavouring to dissipate or dissemble some part of the confusion she conceived thereat; 'Twould very much trouble me (said she to me) the world should think of me as you do; but if the opinion you are of any way furthers your recovery out of the misfortune you suffer, contrary to my desires, far be it from me to be displeased thereat. And indeed it may well become your Prudence so to subdue your Passion, as to forbear further hostility against a Heart which you believe preengaged in another affection, & that a Heart wherein impressions are not so easily either entertained or removed. Be it then your business, let me entreat you; & know, since you pretend to understand me so well, that if I love not any thing, I will continue in that condition while I live; and that if I do affect any thing, death only shall put a period to that affection. I am already of that mind (replied I) but that cruel knowledge contributes nothing to my recovery, as it was your desire it should, nay, haply, had it preceded my Love, it had not been able to hinder the birth thereof. I shall give over speaking to you, if you command it; I shall forbear seeing you, if my presence be burden some to you: but, Tullia, I shall never cease loving you, till I cease living, and my heart shall preserve, as inviobly as yours, the impressions it hath once received. If it be so (said she to me) I shall bewail you, Lentulus; 'tis all I can do for you; with this protestation, which I make with all sincerity, That, I feel my own unhappiness growing the heavier upon me, proportionably to the knowledge I have of yours.  
Our conversation had continued some time longer, had it not been interrupted by the arrival of Octavia, who came to visit Emilia, accompanied by the Princess Antonia and Marcia, Drusus (whose affection for Antonia was publicly known and approved by all) and Prince Ptolomey, who could not deny his attendance on Marcia in that visit, though he knew Emilia to be very much Tullia's Friend, and that he was in some danger to meet her there. I cannot well represent unto you how much I was surprised to see Ptolomey come into a Room where Tullia was: But Tullia's disturbance was much greater; and if all present had observed it, as Emilia and myself did, who knew the cause thereof, 'tis to be feared, she would have been at a strange loss what to do. Her colour changed twice or thrice in a few moments, which was seconded by agitations and extraordinary disturbances, but she recovered her spirits, out of an opinion she had, that those who might observe it, would have attributed it to the aversion she had sufficiently expressed for the Children and whole House of Anthony. Yet did she not seem any way desirous to leave the Room, as well out of a respect to Octavia, who for her Rank and Virtue was generally honoured no less than the persons of Livia and Caesar himself, as out of the satisfaction she could not but take (though much against her desires) in the sight and presence of her amiable enemy. But if her soul, upon this accident, notwithstanding the resistance she made against it, gave entertainment to certain motions of joy, which forced their passage through her resolutions, she presently after found occasion enough to render herself up to the mercy of that affliction, at whose command she for some time before had absolutely been. For Ptolomey that day forgetting even natural civility, whether out of a fear to displease Marcia, who continually eyed him, or suitably to his own inclination, which was much at a distance with Tullia, gave her not so much as a word or look, not engaging in any conversation where she was concerned; and indeed so behaved himself towards her, that though I were more jealous of him then all the world besides, and should have been glad at the returns he made to an affection that occasioned all my unhappiness, & wherein I could not fear any thing so much as that it might raise any in him, yet could I not forbear being dissatisfied with his carriage, sensible in some measure of the grief he occasioned in the soul of the afflicted Tullia; and during that time, hating him for the contempt he expressed towards a person I adored, and whom I saw, by his disdain, exposed to a violent dis-enjoyment of herself. Nor indeed was I long able to dissemble my resentments of it; and having made a sign to him to retire into a Gallery that lay near Emilia's Chamber, I immediately followed him; and after we had walked a while without any discourse, looking on him with an action wholly passionate, It must certainly be (said I to him) that you are the issue of some African Lion, and not of Mark-Anthony, whose inclinations were full of sweetness and love; unless your breast were petrified, you could not treat as you do one of the most excellent and most amiable persons in the World, who excessively loves you, and whose affection would not haply be slighted by any other whatsoever. Ptolomey harkened to me with some astonishment, and thereupon assuming the discourse with an action less serious than mine; Is there any difference between you and your wits, (said he to me) or is this the return you make for what I do in order to your enjoyments, and out of the tenderness I have for our Friendship? Have you quite forgotten your being in love with Tullia, not considering that I am too much your Friend to become your Rival; and that you entertained with an excess of satisfaction the promise I made you never to love her while I lived? It was indeed a satisfaction to me (replied I) out of a concernment suggested by my Love, and which I cannot but acknowledge; but I cannot with any enjoyment see her afflicted, pining, and unfortunate by your treatment of her. Well Lentulus, (says Ptolomey smiling) I must confess I have not behaved myself civilly towards a person so excellent, and one in whom you concern yourself so much; and therefore, to give you greater assurances of my Friendship, I will love her with all my heart, for your sake.  
Though Ptolomey spoke this in jest, yet knew I not well how to take it, by reason of the weakness I was fallen into: But recovering myself out of it, You are pleasant, Ptolomey, (said I to him) and make sport with the misfortune of a Friend, whose fortune deserves compassion: Fall in love with Tullia, if your inclination prompts you thereto, and assure yourself I shall not be much more unfortunate in the defeat of my hopes that way, than I am through Tullia 's malicious Destiny. I do not entreat you to love her, as not conceiving myself in a capacity to direct your inclinations to do it, nor being haply as yet resolved to sacrifice all my hopes to her happiness: But my humble suit is you would not hate her, nor aggravate, by your disdain, the affliction it is to her to love you contrary to her disposition. It seems then (replies Ptolomey) that you are not well resolved what to ask, nor were it on the other side any great Prudence in me to expect much reason among persons sick of your disease. Assure yourself that I do not hate Tullia, and that I shall never hate what you think worthy your affection: but know, that it is to serve you, that I carry myself as I do, and that if I did otherwise, I should haply do more mischief in one day, than you would recover again in divers years. You are insolent in your Victory (said I to him) but you are not well acquainted with the disposition of Tullia, which it is possible may be such, as that if you had much more affection for her than you have, you would not make any advantage of that which she hath for you. I am willing to believe it so, (replies Ptolomey) and for that reason, as well as for some others, I once more promise you never to love her while I live. I was going to make him some reply, when upon the sudden he was called to attend the company that brought him thither. I returned into the Chamber with him, and making no stay, took my leave, observing such a cloud of sadness in Tullia's countenance, that I concluded it not fit for me, while she continued in that humour, to importune her with my visits.  
About this time Cicero her Brother stood for the Dignity of Aedile, one of the most considerable places of trust among the Romans, and employed the interest and solicitations of all his Friends to obtain it. No question but his Rank might warrant his pretence thereto; but besides that his person lay under some contempt, by reason of certain imperfections of his understanding, and that he was not generally beloved, there were Competitors that were more powerful than he, as such as were more considerable at Rome for their worth and several other reasons; so that it was commonly believed he could not desist the prosecution of that attempt without some dishonour to him. I thought myself obliged to lay hold on that occasion to serve him, though 'twere merely to do something that Tullia might take kindly at my hands; so that resolved to take his part against all pretenders, though at some other time I should have been more like to serve those that opposed him. I solicited all my Friends, whereof upon that occasion I found a considerable number that stuck close to me, and prosecuted the business so hard myself, that I got the mediations of Drusus, Marcellus, nay of Agrippa himself to the Emperor and Senate, and with their assistance things were carried on with such eagerness, that notwithstanding the credit of our adversaries, and all the rubs we met with in our Design, it came to a glorious period, and Cicero was created Aedile, contrary to the general opinion, and to their confusion that opposed it. This Honour bred a consideble quarrel between him and Metellus, the most powerful of his Competitors, who no doubt was of greater credit than he, and would have carried the business by the number of Friends, had I not overpowered him with mine, who in all the Briars of that difference were too hard for those of Metellus, and forced him to an accommodation with Cicero, who by that means got the better of the day, both as to his pretention to the Edile-ship, and the difference. He was soon made sensible that all his good success was the effect of my appearance for him, and though he was more inclined to pleasure than any thing that was noble, yet was he not wanting in point of gratitude, and omitted nothing whereby he might express his resentment of the good offices I had done him, and which raised him to a more considerable Rank in Rome then he had been of before. He was not ignorant of the affection I had for his Sister, though I had never spoken to him of it; and having observed without any dissatisfaction the first discoveries I had made thereof, finding afterwards the advantage of my Alliance, he, after that obligation, was very earnestly desirous of it, & would gladly have offered me, if he durst, what he knew I should have desired of him in relation to Tullia. 'Tis true, she took kindly the service I had done her Brother, and House, as much as could be expected from a rational person, as she was; but it is as certain, it was not without affliction that she thought herself obliged to a man she could not love, and that she sighed, out of a regret that she could do so little for one to whom she imagined herself so much engaged. In all the discourses we had upon that occasion, she expressed abundance of gratitude and desires to acquit herself towards me by all the assurances of a high esteem she could give me; but she confined herself to those terms, insomuch that I had no great hopes ever to raise in her any other sentiments for me.  
For some time I supported this unhappiness of my condition, and opposed the malice of my fortune with all the courage I could command; but at last I began to flag, or, at least, grew so far unable to bear the weight of my Love, that all the assistance He could afford me was not enough to secure me against the cruel attempts of my passion. I fell into a sad & melancholy humour, and my Friends vainly expected in me that cheerful liveliness which they had sometime affected me for, and which made me one of the first in all divertisements suitable to persons of my age. The companies I had been most taken with, grew burdensome to me, and now I was altogether for silence, solitude, and obscurity: I was not to be seen at the Emperor, as Octavia's, nor at the Princess Julia's, or any of those noble Assemblies whereto I was wont to run; nay it was with some difficulty that I could afford a few minutes in the company of Crassus, Servilius, Albinus, and Ptolomey, my most intimate Friends. They all bewailed my misfortune, which as to some part they were acquainted with, and did all lay in their power to disengage me from that fatal passion, wherein I had so lost myself. The Emperor himself spoke to me of it, and employed others to do the like several times, and the Empress, the Princess Julia and Octavia did all they could to dissuade me from loving one whose cruelty had already wrought too too fatal effects. There was yet a stronger reason than all these, which they might have alleged to me; but they knew it not, and I did all I could to conceal it from the world. In fine, the body began to participate of the indisposition of the mind, and my countenance suffered a change suitably to that of my humour. It was a certain satisfaction to me to observe the paleness of it, as conceiving it might have some operation on the inexorable Tullia: But when I thought to make my advantage of that change in my face, she made me observe as much in hers, & would persuade me by that sight and her discourses, that I should not with such obstinacy prosecute an affection for her, when she was upon the point to destroy all her Beauty, and whatever she might have had that were amiable either in body or mind. Her discourses and the sincerity I imagained to myself therein, very much aggravated my affliction; and many times the compassion I had for her misfortune made me suspend all sentiment of my own. During these intervals, I was several times ready to discover to her what I knew of her love to Ptolomey, and considering the extremities I was reduced to, I conceived there was not any reason could oblige me to dissemble it any longer: but the fear I was in to displease her, had in my soul the mastery and command of all other considerations. And calling to mind that I had heard her say, in the fatal conversation that passed in Lucullus' Garden, that she would run upon her own death, if she thought her passion were discovered, I had some ground to believe, that a discourse of that nature must needs reduce her to the utmost of affliction, especially if I should tell her that Ptolomey himself had the knowledge thereof, which of all things was that she stood most in fear of.  
During the time I was yet in suspense how I ought to behave myself as to that circumstance, I went one day to see her at her Brother's House. Having all the freedom I could desire to come thither, and that with the consent of Cicero, who entertained me as the best Friend he had, I went up strait into her Lodgings; and having passed through the outer Room, and gone into her Chamber, yet not met with her, I went into her Closet, whereof the door was half open, where I imagined she must needs be, I indeed accordingly sound her there, sat in a great Chair near the Table. Though I had made some noise at my coming in, yet did she not look about to see what the matter was, or stir from the place: which obliging me to come nearer her, at least so as that I might take a view of her face, I perceived she was fallen asleep in her Chair, & that as she was writing, because she had the Pen still in her hand, and a Letter half writ lying by her, which it seems drowsiness had not suffered her to finish. The posture I found her in, raising in me a greater confidence than I should have been guilty of, had she been awake, I came up close to her, and looking very earnestly on her face, I perceived a moisture over her cheeks, nay observed that under the eyelids, that seemed to be shut, the tears found a passage, notwithstanding her being asleep, and fell into her bosom, attended ever and anon with certain sighs, and they interrupted by certain words obscurely pronounced, which made me conclude, that even during her sleep, her mind had not that rest and serenity which others are wont to derive from it.  
That spectacle wrought such a tenderness in me, that how much soever I might stand in need of pity myself for my own sufferings, I could not but forget them at that instant to be the more sensible of those of Tullia's, and could not forbear the shedding of some tears, as it were, to accompany those that fell from her. Then I fastened my sight, not without a mortal affliction, on the paleness of her countenance, and the change which that malicious Passion wrought therein; and the silence observ●d in that place affording me the opportunity to make even the saddest reflections I could, I was so ore-burthen●d therewith, that not able to make any further resistance against my affliction, and having hardly the strength to stand, I fell down along a Chair at one end of the Table, whence, I could not easily satiate my eyes with the sight of that beloved Countenance, whereof the paleness, and the change happened therein, had not, to my apprehension, depriv●d it of aught that rendered it amiable. Whereupon fixing my thoughts on that sad object, I accompanied with a sigh every tear that fell from her, and not able to reflect on their cause, without engaging at the same time an overviolent affliction; Precious tears (said I to myself) but unjustly and ungratefully spilt, must you fall to the ground with so little reason and so little effect, you that proceed from a source so full of light and knowledge, and might soften Marble, or what else is most hard and insensible? Ah! fairesh Eyes (added I with such transports as it were impossible for me to express) fairest Eyes, whose influence commands my heart, which the envious Lids cannot conceal from me, shed no more tears for an ungrateful and insensible person whom you cannot move, and leave that employment for the unfortunate Lentulus, whose miseries require an inexhaustible source of tears, and who, while he lives, is bound to bewail the misfortune of Tullia, and his own unhappiness.  
This reflection I could not dismiss without abundance of tears to accompany it, saying withal many other things to myself upon the change of her countenance which I could not observe without extremity of grief. And yet all the weight of it I then felt was not enough to hinder me from taking a freedom which I never had done; so that seeing Tullia's fair hand not far from me, I had not that command of my Passion as to forbear putting it to my mouth, and kissing it with much earnestness. All this did not awake Tullia, as I had much reason to fear it might, and it was my happiness as things stood that her former watchings had been so great as to put her into a founder sleep than ordinary, and that she did not surprise me in an action, which no doubt but she would have been displeased at. Woe is me! (said I to myself, having recovered out of the fear I had been in) What a strange condition am I in? I tremble for having stolen this innocent favour from Tullia though asleep, and he who hath stolen her heart is hardly sensible of his conquest, and triumphs without m●king any account of what would make Lentulus the happiest man in the world. After I had bestowed some few minutes more on these sad considerations, casting my eye on Tullia's Letter that lay by her unfinished, the concerment I conceived I had in whatever she might either write or think of, encouraged my curiosity to venture on that which could not be done without violence to discretion, and made me cast my eye on that which was written. I did it without any difficulty, & drawing the Letter gently to me, so as Tullia might not awake, I found there in these words.  
TULLIA to EMILIA.  
MUst I be so unfortunate, my dearest Emilia, as to pass away a whole day without seeing you, when you know that all the comfort, all the enjoyment I desire, proceeds from you alone, and that you are the only person to whom I bemoan myself against that disturber of my Quiet which the Gods have in their indignation thought sit to ordain my tormentor? That passion, which you call a revenging God, and that I term the unjust Tyrant, wreaking his malice on an innocent Heart, hath tortured me since yesterday according to the rate of his ordinary violence, and that image, which in all reason ought to be so abominable, and yet through my misfortune is so dear to me, would, this last night, hardly afford me a few minute's rest. However, my dear Emilia, you may rejoice, my sufferings will at last have a period, and I hope to carry my Reputation with me to the Grave pure and untouched, since the only stain it hath received is known only to Emilia, and that my death will prevent the discovery which the World might have made of my weakness, should my life be spun out any longer. Till that hour, so much my heart's desire to see, overtake me, favour me with the comforts of your ordinary goodness, and assist with your advice a disordered Reason and an unsettled Mind.—  
Thus far had she proceeded, and it is probable, that drowsiness had surprised her at that passage of her Letter, and that it was through her precedent watchings, whereof she complained, that she was now fallen so fast asleep. I several times read over her imperfect Letter, whereat I was extremely troubled, and yet when I had done, I knew not whence it came, I felt a secret inspiration encouraging me to finish her Letter according to my apprehensions, continuing where she had left off, and by that means discover to her, better than I durst presume to have done by discourse, that I was not so far ignorant of the state of her soul as she imagined. In fine, without much reasoning on the motive might incline me thereto, or a rigorous examination, whether I did not by that action in some measure derogate from the respect I ought her, and had ever observed towards her, I took Pen in hand, and continued immediately after what she had written, not leaving any distance, no more than if it had been finish'st with her own hand, endeavouring withal to imitate her writing as much as lay in my power. The words I added to hers were these.  
Shall I ever continue an obstinate Love towards an insolent young Man who insults upo● the advantage he hath over my heart, an enemy that slights me, that shuns me, and who mak●s the passion I have for him contribute to the revenge which you so often put me in mind of; and shall I not at length entertain the Love of the faithful Lentulus, who dies for me, and whose sidelity cannot admit any abatement, either for the insensibility I have expressed towards him, or tha● cruel pre-engagement of my heart? This love for him who so ungratefully shuns me, and this aversion for him that passionately loves me, are they qualifications suitable to my courage, my generosity, and that glory which I have ever so highly valued? and is there any necessity I should espouse misery for my life, by persisting in the pursuance of an unjust ●ffection, and shun that quiet and those accommodations which would be offered me upon the submission of my inclinations to the disposal of a rational Affection.  
I writ down these words, though I could not myself imagine to what end I did it: And in regard there had not passed any Letters between Tullia and myself, and consequently that the was not much acquainted with my hand, I thought she might be some time to seek whose it should be. And so, desirous to know what would be the effect of this adventure. I returned the Letter to the place where it was before, and rising without any noise, I went out of the Closet as softly as I possibly could, and went away with as little notice taken of me as I had come in. For Tullia's Women being in a Wardrobe, where they hadlocked themselves in, when Tullia retired into her Closet, it being their custom to leave her to the solitude she was so desirous of, I got away without being observed by any but the Servants of Cicero, who had nothing to do with Tullia.  
Some time after my departure, as I understood since by Emilia, she awoke, and that in some disturbance by reason of certain Dreams she had been troubled with during her sleep. When she had shaken off all sleepiness, she remembered that she had left her Letter unfinished and being in an humour to make an end of it, she takes the Pen in her hand, and cast her eye on the place where she had left off: But when when she was going to write down what was then come into her thoughts, she saw that without any discontinuance the Page was full; with some what that took up part of the other side. At first she thought she had been deceived, and forgot that she had finished her Letter before she fell asleep; but having better observed the writing, she was satisfied it could be none of her own, though I had endeavoured to imitate it as much as lay in my power. This she was so surprised at that she seemed to be uncertain whether she were awake or no; and rubbing her eyes to shake of the remainder of her drowsiness, she looked on it with more earnestness, and found that indeed they had not deceived her: But if that sight put her into some disorder, you may thence imagine, Madam, what astonishment she was in when she had read the words I had written, and thereby understood, that the secret of her heart was discovered, or at the least that it was not unknown to the person that had finished her Letter. Once reading she thought not enough, but looking over the words one after another with attention, she found them so suitable to the state of her soul, that for some moments she was of opinion that her good Genius had written them, to raise her out of the misery wherein she was, and put her into the course she was to take. During that reflection reviewing all the word one after another, What compassionate Deity, said she, takes this care of my wretched fortune upon him, and so officiously puts me in mind of my duty, at a time when all my courage could not have done it? Ah! it is some God, no doubt, since it is a God alone could dive into the secret of my heart, and in such a manner inspire me with the sentiments which I ought to be directed by. Who, but a God, could make me speak with so much truth and reason, at a time when my reason was eclipsed, and the knowledge of the truth my torment?  
She might have continued longer in that imagination, had she given less credit than she does to vulgar opinions, and the persuasion which a weaker mind might have conceived upon this commerce of the Gods with men: But she, being of a solid and sharp-sighted judgement, soon quitted that conceit, and put it out all doubt that her Letter had been finished by the hands of a Man. This assurance put her into an extraordinary affliction; and as by all the words the person of Ptolomey was pointed at, though I had not named him, so was she fully satisfied that the Writer of them, was acquainted, even to the least circumstances; with her misfortune, and certainly knew that it was for Ptolomey that she languished and suffered all she did. O what a torment was this persuasion to her! and what confusion and grief was ●t to her to find the Passion she was so desirous to smother, and which she first of any condemned with so much severity, exposed to the knowledge of men! The Affliction she conceived thereat drew from her those complaints, which, out of a fear to importune you with a frivolous relation, I forbear to repeat; and when she had disburdened herself of all her grief suggested to her, returning to her Letter, and attentively examining all the words I had written, she drew from it the must fatal consequences imaginable to her quiet and satisfaction. Yet could she not but approve what she read, and conceiving a regret that she had not herself written what she allowed so rational; O thou (said she) who ever thou art, that mak●st me both think and speak so well what no doubt I should have thought and said, if Reason had still the command of my Soul, pardon my weakness if it be in thy power, and see into my heart, whereof thou knowest the secret transactions, whether I am in a capacity to be directed by thy inspirations. Thou mak'st me say to myself, what thou conceivest, and what all the world ought to conceive of my misfortune and my duty, & I find but too much justice & truth in what thy hand writes for me: But where shall I find strength to put it in execution, suitably to my knowledge and allowance of it, and what assistant Deity will guide me through the way thou shew●st me?  
Having bestowed some time on these pensive recollections, she beset herself to find out the Author of that adventure: By the Characters of the Writing she soon concluded it could not be Emilia, whom the could with less disturbance suspect to have done it then any other whatsoever. From the same reason she also inferred it was not her Brother, who was the person of all the world she stood most in fear of: and after these two reflecting on me, she imagined, from the advantage it was to me to persuade her to a compliance with what was was written, that it might proceed from me rather than from any other. Yet could she not make that judgement without some difficulty, as well out of the respect and distance I always had observed towards her, which seemed in some measure to plead against the freedom I had taken, as out of a confidence she had, that I knew nothing of her secret, and the little probability there was I should have dissembled what I knew, there being so much reason I should discover it: and being on the other side unwilling to suspect Emilia should have revealed it to me, though she knew her to be much my Friend, and perpetually solicited her on my behalf; yet desirous to find out the truth, she called her Women to her, and asked them, Whether they had seen any one come into her chamber and so into her closet while she was asleep. They assured her, as they truly might, that they had not seen any one; and having sent them to ask the same question of some other of the Servants, as Fortune would have it, they came to those that had not seen me and consequently could give her no satisfaction.  
In this perplexity was she when Emilia enters her Closet, whom she no sooner cast her eye on, but commanding her Women to withdraw, she gave her an account of her adventure, and showing her the Letter as far as her own writing reached, she afterwards made her read what I had written, and put her to such a surprise, that Emilia for a good while was not able to say one word to her. She had often seen my hand, and though I had at that time a little disguised it, yet was it not so much, but that at last she discovered it; but not without much astonishment at the words I had written, whereby she concluded, as Tullia had done before, that I was not ignorant of her Friend's passion. She would not acknowledge to her it was of my writing nor did she so deny it but that Tullia had some suspicion it might; so that she left her in a doubt inclining to the truth. If it be Lentulus (says Tullia at last) as I believe it can be no other, by what adventure could he have come to the knowledge of my misfortune, or what Daemon hath discovered to him what I only made you privy to? For, in fine, my dearest Emilia, what Friendship soever there may be between you and Lentulus, I shall never suspect you have discovered this secret to him, and you are but too well satisfied of the resolution I had made ever to have concealed it, so to avoid this affliction. I cannot only protest to you (replied Emilia) both in the presence of all the Gods, and by the sacred Friendship that's between us, that I never made the least mention of any such thing to him, and that I have concealed it from him with as much circumspection as you could have desired; but I can also with the same protestations assure you, that he never, either in his discourses or actions, made the least discovery of his knowledge thereof. And thence I infer, that either it was not he writ these words or that he is the most discreet and respectful person in the world, as being one had such a command of himself, as, in an affair of such concernment to his felicity, and a passion so violent as his, to conceal a thing whereof he might have made so great advantage; not only from you, who, upon the account of his affection, would have pardoned it, though he had not done it, but also from me who am sincerely his Friend, & much desirous to serve him in the Passion he hath for you. If he hath had that respect (replies Tullia he should have continued it to the end, and spared me an affliction which I shall never be able to shake off; for, in fine, Emilia, I cannot easily be persuaded that Lentulus should ever come to the knowledge of what sentiments I have for Ptolomey, but I must withal conclude that Ptolomey, whom he daily visits, and between whom there is the greatest familiarity imaginable, must know as much as he: and if it be so, Emilia, I am resolved upon death, this last imagination putting me into such a disturbance, as will never allow me the least serenity of mind or thoughts. Though Lentulus (replies Emilia) should have known the affection you have for Ptolomey, I durst engage for him he never made the least discovery thereof; and not to mention the respect he hath for you, his Prudence is such that he would not make a Rival of a Friend, and what is more, a Rival whom he knew to be loved, which must be the greatest misfortune he could have feared. If Lentulus alone hath taken notice of my misfortune (replies Tullia) my affliction will be so much the less out of a consideration that if he knows it, it may be a means to divert him from further pursuance of the fruitless affection he hath for me; but I can hardly believe Ptolomey is ignorant of it, and am the rather confirmed in that persuasion from these words, That he makes the passion I have for him contribute to his revenge, which he could not have said of him, if that Passion had not been known to him. It shall be my business (says Emilia to her) to sift this business out of Lentulus, and I am confident I shall know the truth of him. She urged many things to her, to persuade her, that in that adventure, there was nothing should create her any new affliction; and finding in what I had written occasion to speak on my behalf, she managed it to my best advantage with much earnestness, and omitted nothing which, out of the compassion she had for her and me, and her Friendship towards both, she could or ought to have said.  
In the mean time I was come home to my own house, o'erwhelmed with affliction no less for Tullia's sufferings then my own: And I was hardly retired into my Chamber, but Ptolomey was brought in, coming to give me a visit. How great Friends soever we might have been, I could not look on him that day but as the Author of my misfortunes, though I was not unsatisfied of his innocency; and he had not said many words to me, but interrupting him with some precipitation, Ptolomey (said I to him) there is no longer any mean for me in the extremity whereto I am reduced, and you must of necessity either love Tullia, or be the death of Lentulus. You may indeed wonder to see me seek to those remedies for the preservation of my life which in all probability are more likely to hasten my death: but know, that Tullia's life is much dearer to me then that of Lentulus, and that I die much more cruelly by the miseries of Tullia than I can do by my own, While I have had any hope to deprive you of the heart you so much disdain, I could not have desired, nay was in some fear you should have loved Tullia, but now I find that nothing can divert her from the Love she hath for you, and that the aversion you have for her only makes her the more unfortunate, without contributing any thing to her recovery, of two Evils which my malicious Fortune presents me with, I ought to choose the more supportable, since it were better for me to be unfortunate through the aversion Tullia hath for me, or rather the incapacity she is in to bestow on me a heart which is yours, than the regret I must conceive to see her unhappy, without making any advantage of her unhappiness. That miracle of her Sex for understanding, wisdom, and excellent endowments, hath lost all, forgotten all for yoursake, and that Beauty, which was considerable even rmong the greatest, is defaced by affliction and moulders away to utter ruin. Love, Ptolomey, love the amiable Tullia, both for my sake and your own. There cannot any thing under Heaven be more worthy your affection, since your Brother, a person as great in all things as ever any among the Romans, did not only judge her worthy his own, but did that for her aversion which I desire of you for her love.  
Ptolomey was so much amazed to hear me talk after this rate, that he knew not at first how he should take my discourse; But perceiving with what earnestness I spoke, he concluded my words proceeded from my heart. Yet was a while to seek what answer he should make me; but at last putting on a more serious countenance than he was wont to do in any thing concerned me, as conceiving it more suitable to the condition he saw me in, than stood with his divertive humour; Lentulus, said he to me, I should be much troubled the misfortune which disturbs your Reason should make a breach in our Friendship; and since I am so unhappy as to do you any prejudice contrary to my intention, I will do all lies in my power to serve you in all the good offices you can hope for from the best of your Friends. I should find it a difficulty to make any serious answer to your discourse, were I not from many discoveries satisfied, that you feel no less affliction than you express in your words: but I should find it much more to believe that you really desire me to love Tullia, were I not assured of your being a great Lover of sincerity and truth. I cannot promise you I shall love Tullia, and besides that it will haply be prejudicial to your quiet, you know that these inclinations are not in our power, and that it is not unlikely it would be as hard for me to love her as you find it not to do so. My Soul is not much subject to Passions of this nature, and if it could be, you know that what hath passed between me and Marcia, and the great obligations cast upon me by Octavia, are such, that it should be in some measure my care not to show myself unworthy thereof by my ingratitude. For these reasons, but indeed much more out of a respect to the Friendship I bear you, I should not put you into any hope that I shall love Tullia: But this I dare promise you, That if you desire it, my behaviour towards her shall be much otherwise then it hath hitherto been, that I will visit her if you think fit, and that I shall have as much compliance and civility for her, as a man can express towards those persons he most highly esteems. Nay I might tell you, that I would pretend to love her for your sake, but that you know dissimulation is wholly inconsistent with my disposition, though I did not make it a conscience to abuse a person you love, nor believe it against your interest, that Tullia should be persuaded I had any affection for her.  
This was the tenor of Ptolomey's discourse to me, and I found so much Prudence and Reason in it, that I thought I could not rationally desire more of him: and before we parted, I took him upon the promise he made me, that he would see Tullia, if she desired it, either at her Lodgings, in case she could oblige Cicero to allow his Visits, or at Emilia's, and do what lay in his power to flatter her affliction, and restore her to her former enjoyments. He made me this promise, telling me that I knew not what I desired, and that it was not for my advantage he should express any submission to Tullia: But I reiterated to him what I had already said, and protested, that loving Tullia much beyond myself, I would endeavour her satisfaction though with the loss of my own, and would much rather be unfortunate alone, then see her perpetually such.  
The next day Emilia sent a Message to me to come to her, to be acquainted with something she had to say to me. I presently imagined it was about the words I had written in Tullia's Letter, and so went to her with an intention not to conceal any thing from her that she should be desirous to know. I was no sooner come, but she related to me all that had passed at Tullia's since my coming thence, & entreated me with the same ingenuity to acknowledge, not whether I had written the words, for that she doubted not but I had, but by what means I could have learned the engagement of Tullia's inclinations, and how I could have concealed my knowledge of it from her, if it were true that I had known it any considerable time. I made her answer with a freedom suitable to her own, and after I had begun my discourse with a complaint I made to her, that she herself had not given me the least notice of a thing she knew so well, I continued it with a relation of the adventure which Ptolomey and myself had met with in the Gardens of Lucullus, which had given birth to my passion; of the design we had to follow them, and to overhear their discourse when they were retired into the Arbour, and where they had had that conversation out of which we discovered Tullia's Love, whose very expressions I gave her, as also the last words of the Song which Tullia had sung, and which I had well remembered ever since.  
Emilia interrupting me, and crying out at that passage of my discourse, What, Lentulus (said she to me) is it then certain that Ptolomey heard as well as yourself all the conversation we had together in the Arbour, and that as well as you he knows what sentiments Tullia hath for him? He knows fully as much as I do, (said I to her) nor did he miss a syllable of all you said one to another, though he had not been so attentive but upon my entreaty, and seemed not to be any thing moved there at. O unfortunate Tullia, (replies Emilia) how would thy affliction multiply if thou knewest this cruel circumstance of thy misfortune! Lentulus (continued she turning towards me) for Heaven's sake make not the least discovery to Tullia of what you have acquainted me with; since you may be confident, that if she knew but what I have understood from you, she will never entertain the least comfort. After what you have written in her Letter, it cannot be be said you are ignorant of her affection for Ptolomey; but it shall be my business to persuade her, that you have it partly from Thrasyllus, who hath by his Art discovered many thing, as she may be likely to imagine from what he said to her himself, and that you guessed at the rest by her countenance and actions, as well at the first meeting with her in Lucullus 's Garden, when she fell into a swound between us, as in the visit which Ptolomey made us since with Octavia. There's probability enough in these suggestions, and it is known, that interessed persons, such as you are, may well take notice of such things as those that are indifferent, make not the least reflection upon.  
Having so said, she took occasion to commend my Prudence and reservedness in keeping so well the secret of her Friend, and that one I was myself so much concerned in: but her astonishment was much greater, when I acquainted her with my intention to oblige Ptolomey to love her, as choosing rather to be deprived of all my hopes, and with them of my life, than any longer to be a spectator of the miseries of a person I adored. And when I afterwards gave her an account of the discourse I had had with Ptolomey the day before, she cries out, looking on me with a certain admiration, This Goodness (said she) this perfection of Love is beyond all example; and if Tullia comply not with your desires upon the representation I shall make her of it, I think her the most unfortunate person in the World. I shall not fail to press very home to her this strange effect of the truest Love that ever was; yet some palliation must be used, as by persuading her that you have obliged Ptolomey to see her, and to demean himself with all civility and complaisance towards her, though he knew not any thing of the affection she hath for him: And be confident, Lentulus, that in doing much you have hazarded nothing and that Tullia will be highly engaged to you for your good intentions. But if I know any thing of her humour, it is not to be feared you will receive any prejudice thereby, she being resolved never to see Ptolomey. I neither can nor will deny that she hath that affection for him, which is known to you as well as myself, and could I have done it without betraying the trust reposed in me by my Friend I had discovered this secret to you long since: But I can assure you, that what effects soever that Passion may produce, it will only prove her torment, yet so, as that he who is the cause of it shall not make any advantage there of, and that she would rather die, then make the least discovery of it to him.  
To this Emilia added some other discourse, whereby she made a perfect representation of the nature of Tullia's Passion, and the state of her soul, such as I have already described it. I insist too much on the relation of particulars of little consequence, and to shorten it therefore, I am to tell you that she went the same day to see Tullia, satisfied her it was I, had written at the bottom of her Letter, and so gave her an account of all things, not indeed punctually according to the truth, but as we had concluded together, to afflict her the less. This Tullia looked on as a ray of comfort darted from above, and it was a great abatement of her affliction, to understand that her Passion was unknown to Ptolomey, and that I had no other knowledge of it then what I derived from the words of Thrasyllus, and appearances remarkable only by a person concerned as I was. Upon the assurances which Emilia gave her of it, she was in some measure appeased, and recovered out of the fear she had been in, and was not a little satisfied I had entertained an opinion that might cure me of my Passion, as she had ever desired. But when afterward she came to hear that instead of diverting Ptolomey from loving her, as in all reason and prudence I ought to have done, I would needs, out of a motion of generosity, as Emilia represented it to her, have sacrificed my own quiet that she might enjoy hers, and condemned myself to eternal miseries to put a period to hers, by endeavoving to oblige Ptolemy to love her, &, in a word, that without discovering to him the affection she had for him, I had made him promise to visit her, and address himself to her with all submissions and civilities, leaving the rest to the influence of her Beauty; the rarity of such a demonstration of Love wrought in her more passionate sentiments for me than she had conceived at all those I had made her before. So that having looked on Emilia for some time, with a silence that proceeded from her present astonishment; You acquaint me (said she) with an effect of Lentulus 's Love no less extraordinary than my own fortune, such as it would be as hard a matter to find examples of as of my misfortune. I was never so sensible of it as I am upon this occasion, since it leaves me not in a capacity to acknowledge, as I ought, and indeed as I wish so unheard of a discovery of Love and Goodness of Lentulus. Whence you may safely assure him, that he shall suffer no prejudice by it, and that instead of desiring Ptol●mey should come to see me, and render me civilities, as he hath procured he shall, I promise never to see him while I live. You may therefore give him notice, to forbear all further violence to the inclinations of Ptolomey upon any account of mine; assure him, that I conceive myself as much obliged to him for what he hath endeavoured to do, as if I had thence derived a●l the satisfaction he would have procured me, and entreat him to bewail my misfortune, which suffers me not to do that upon this occasion, which I ought and haply should be glad to do .......... At which words making a sudden stop, she could not forbear to express the compassion and tenderness wrought in her. Insomuch that a little after taking a Handkerchief to wipe away certain tears which this doleful consideration forced from her fair eyes; O Lentutus, (added she) what an unfortunate Planet are we born under, and how are we obliged to bemoan one the other, that we have so blindly and so unjustly disposed of our affections!  
Though it was with much sincerity, and a desire to effect it, that I had proffered to do Tullia that cruel service so destructive to all my hopes, yet was it no small satisfaction to me, that she had refused to accept it, and that I had met with an opportunity to express my Love to her by a discovery so extraordinary. I gave Ptolomey thanks for what he would have done on my entreaty, and acquainting him with Tullia's resolution, I perceived he took it not unkindly to be dispensed the violence he would have done himself to pleasure me. This happened about the time of Augustus' departure from Rome in order to that great Progress from which he is not yet returned, when he took with him the Empress, the Princesses, Julia, Octavia, yourself and all your House, and all the most considerable persons of the Empire.  
No doubt but I had attended him among others of my age and quality, if my Love would have permitted it, and that I could have left Tullia, who was resolved not to stir from Rome. The Emperor excused me upon the account he received of my misfortune, and all my Friends at their departure expressed the regret it was to them to leave me in that deplorable condition. Emilia stirred not, no more than Tullia, much to my satisfaction, as having only her with whom I could remit somewhat of my grief by the account I daily gave her of the effects it produced upon my thoughts, and the assurance I had of the good offices she did me with her Friend, as much as lay in her power. Tullia also entertained me with as good a countenance as she could, expressed a higher esteem of me then of any other that came to visit her, and endeavoured to make me apprehend, that it was not without abundance of affliction to her, that she was in an incapacity to acknowledge the Love I had for her. She purposely forbore all mention of Ptolomey, and what ever had passed wherein he was concerned: and out of the respect I bore, I would not hint at any discourse of that nature, so that without any explication we mutually knew the apprehensions one of another, and bemoaned one the other, without being able to comfort ourselves. My doleful discourses moved her to compassion, yet were not so effectual as to change her inclination, my sighs also many times produced the same effect: and when any one slipped unawares from her in my presence, she blushed, and looked downwards, out of a confusion she was in, that the cause thereof was not unknown to me. She would never oppose the belief I was in of her love to Ptolomey, because she was very glad I found in it some assistance against a Passion that had made me so miserable: nor would she on the other side make any acknowledgement thereof, as being not conformable to the height and severity she had ever observed.  
About this time, Cicero, invited by the pleasantness of the season we were then in, would needs go and pass away some time at the fair Palace he had near Tusculum; and I believe he was the rather induced to take that diversion upon the entreaties of Tullia, whose melancholy represented to her the solitude of the Country as what was more pleasant than the great companies and meetings of Rome, for which she had naturally no great inclination. Tullia entertained that news with a great deal of joy; but it produced a much different effect upon me, insomuch that Cicero, to whom my Passion was not unknown, observed so much grief in my eyes, that he could not but pity me, And having a great affection for me, and conceiving himself very much obliged to me, he thought fit to abate the affliction he saw I conceived thereat, by a second Proposition, and entreated me to go along with them, and pass away some few days at their House, where he promised to contribute to my divertisement as much as lay in his power. Cicero made this proposal to me after such a manner, as I could not but infer it was his desire I should accept of it; yet before I made him any answer, I cast my eye on Tullia's countenance, as it were to ask her consent, and not observing in it any thing repugnant to her Brother's proposition, I accepted it, but with much more joy than I durst express to him. Accordingly having prepared myself for that short journey, some three days after I went along with them, and arrived at that House one of the most pleasant in all Italy, which Marcus Tullius their Father had made the most magnificent he could, omitting nothing that might any way add to the ornament of it. I was appointed Lodgings whereof the windows looked into a Garden curiously kept and embellished with spacious Walks, large Rivulets, Fountains, and what ever Art could add of advantage to Nature. I was treated by Cicero with all the demonstrations of Friendship imaginable, nor was Tullia thrifty of the civilities I might expect from her being in h●r Brother's House. But there was little in all this to satisfy such a Passion as mine; and sensible of the small acquests I made on Tullia's mind, which, notwithstanding all the kindness she had for me, was immovable in its first affection, I gave way to my grief in such a manner, that it was as much as I could do with all the courage I had received from Heaven, to keep myself from despair▪ In fine, my grief grew so violent upon me, that it made my life hateful to me, and suggested me with a resolution to hasten the period of it by engaging in some War. This put me upon thoughts of a voyage, with a design never to return again, and to find from the point of some favourable Sword the remedy of my misfortune. I was casting about my departure, when Cicero, observing the change of my humour with much dissatisfaction, was moved to compassion thereat, and conceiving himself extremely obliged to me for the service I had done him, he would exceed ordinary formalities to find out some way to comfort me. Upon this account, having one day taken me alone consulting my own pensive thoughts, and walking along a row of Trees which as a kind of Hedge parted two Walks, he would needs discover his mind to me, and observing on my countenance the tract of certain tears which I had shed not long before, What, Lentulus, (said he to me) are you resolved ever to live at this distance with the best of your Friends, and never to gratify either their entreaties, or the grief they take at your change, with the least compliance? It is (replied I) one of the most cruel effects of my unhappiness, to communicate it to my Friends, as if it were not sufficient I should be miserable alone, but the persons that of all the world I wish most happiness to, must be within the lash of my miseries.  
These words fell from me with an action so doleful that Cicero was extremely moved thereat, and in that condition, not able to keep in any longer what till then he had out of some consideration of civility concealed; Lentulus, (said he to me) the condition I see you in troubles me so much, that I cannot be any longer staved off by ordinary consideration, since they are contrary to the intentions I have to ease you, if it lies in my power: nay though I should run the hazard of being thought by you an indiscreet and rash person, yet can I not forbear acquainting you with my thoughts, and charging you with a groundless obstinacy, in suffering me to be so much a stranger to yours, at a time when you cannot urge any reason obliging you to that reservedness, after the good offices I have received from your Friendship. 'Tis generally believed, and my opinion is consonant to that of the many, that you are in love with Tullia, and that it is from the affection you have for her, that this change in you proceeds, whereat all your Friends are so much cast down. Besides the general opinion, I think I have observed it by several marks, which it were to disclaim, had you any such design. Having this confidence, I cannot but extremely wonder at your carriage towards me, and knowing, as no question but you do, the esteem I have for your person, the obligation I stand in to your Friendship, and all the other motives which should engage me to approve your inclinations for my Sister, I cannot comprehend upon what ground it is, that you choose rather to languish miserably, and to suffer as you do, if appearances may credited, then to open your mind to me, as your Friend and Tullia 's Brother, and let me know the necessity you may stand in of my assistance, to prevail with a Sister who hath ever had a religious submission for my disposal of her. You cannot from any circumstance or reason imagine I should any way oppose you; nay, though I were not, as I am obliged to you, I must needs be sensible, that, out of considerations of the nobleness of your blood, and the worth of your person, the affection you have for Tullia cannot be otherwise then advantageous to her. Give me then some account of your reservedness and dissidence, and assure yourself, that if the power I have over my Sistor may help to dispel this cloud of sadness that afflicts us, you shall have reason to be as much satisfied, as ever you were in your life.  
To this effect was Cicero's discourse to me, to which he added several other things full of affection, and whereby I perceived that it was to no purpose for me any longer to conceal a truth which he was fully acquainted with. I therefore resolved to acknowledge it, though without any hope of comfort from that acknowledgement, or advantage from the offers he made me. So that having continued in suspense a good while without making him any answer, Cicero (said I to him at last) there is as much generosity in your proceeding, as you imagine to yourself there is strangeness in mine, as indeed there might be in effect, if I had not reasons strong enough to excuse it: But to answer you with a freedom equal to your own, I shall acknowledge that you have believed nothing but truth, when you believed that I adored your Sister, and that the Passion I have for her hath occasioned all the change you have observed in my person. 'Tis true, Cicero, I am infinitely in love with the fair and virtuous Tullia, and I shall with an inviolable fidelity prosecute that Love to the last gasp. Nay, I will tell you further, that in the Love I have for her, there is nothing that required so great secrecy, or that should oblige me to conceal it from you; that I have had so far a confidence in your Friendship, as to believe you would further my design, and that I have expected the consummation of my happiness in the enjoyment of Tullia from your only assistance. But, this supposed I shall further declare to you, since I needs must, That having made it my main design to conquer Tullia 's heart▪ I had resolved to do it purely by the batteries of my Love and respect, and receive it from her affection rather than your assistance, which I would not by any means desire of you while I thought it contrary to her inclination. These I have endeavoured to render favourable to me, before I implored your assistance, and have had that respect for Tullia, as by my services to gain her favour before I employed the authority of her Brother. My endeavours have indeed met with little success, and all the demonstrations of my Passion have not been able to move a mind which I would gain by Love and submissions. If Fortune hath been contrary to my design, or rather, if I have not had those endowments which might deserve Tullia 's affection it is but just I should smart for it, and not seek my happiness by such ways as she might take offence at. And though what you offer is to be preferred before the Empire of the Universe, yet ought I not to make any advantage thereof, since I cannot entertain a thought to do it, without considering that I make unfortunate a person I adore, and whose sufferings I should be much more sensible of then what you now see me exposed to. Quarrel not therefore at my silence, since it proceeds but not from the tenderness I have for a quiet a thousand times more dear to me then my own; & if you love me, bewail my fate instead of proffering me an assistance I cannot accept. The period of my misery draws nigh, and therewith consequently that of my life, and I shall have the satisfaction to have suffered even to death, without charging Tullia with any thing, or embracing any advantage that might displease her, to compass my own happiness.  
Cicero harkened to my discourse with much astonishment, and when I had given over speaking, Your procedure (says he to me) hath too much obligation in it for a person that's too ungrateful, and if my Sister hath not answered, as she ought, the demonstrations of your affection, she must needs be herself prepossessed by some Passion that disturbs her Reason. I have very much suspected it by the change I have observed both in her disposition and countenance, and I should haply have been the more confident of it, if I had not heretofore known her mind to be far from all manner of engagements. It is certainly at this present more than ever, (said I, much troubled to find him inclining to that opinion) and as the concernment I have in her inclinations makes me the more vigilant to observe them, so I can assure you, there's no man in the World so happy as to be loved by Tullia, and that I can charge my unhappiness upon nothing so much as the general aversishe hath for all our Sex, or at least for a Passion which she can raise in us, but not be sensible of herself. No certainly nothing can be the object of her love, as there is nothing that deserves to be loved by her; and you cannot, without aggravating my affliction, entertain the least suspicion of any such thing.  
This I should have pressed further, as being unwilling to leave him in that opinion, knowing that Tullia would be extremely troubled at it, if there had not appeared at the other end of the walk, certain persons that were coming towards us. Whereupon I being desirous of solitude, and consequently loath to engage in that Company, entreated Cicero to go and entertain them, and leave me to the freedom of my walk. Cicero, to humour me, did so, whereupon coming to a place where there was a passage into another Walk, I left that I was in before, with an intention, out of that also to steal into some more private place. But I was hardly gotten into the other walk, but I unexpectedly met with the fair Tullia, who having walked on the other side of the Palisade and harkened to our discourse, had overheard all we had said, without missing a word of it. I was not a little surprised at that meeting, and Tullia reading my astonishment in my countenance, Pardon me (said she to me, with an attractive mildness) if I trouble your solitude, and take it not ill that I have overheard all the discourse you have had with my Brother: I have found in it so many expressions of Goodness; Wisdom, Discretion, and an Affection which I have not deserved that the service of ten years could not have gained so much upon me; and you may thence imagine, that I am no less to be bemoaned then you, since my misfortune is such as suffers me not to make any advantage of an affection, which no doubt would exchange my unhappiness to a proportionable degree of felicity .........  
At these words she made a stop with an action attended by a certain confusion, and observing I still had my eyes fixed on the ground without making her any reply, I know (added she) that you are acquainted with my misfortune, and notwithstanding that out of interest or resentment you might have published it, you have not only concealed it from all the World, but have chased away the jealousies which my Brother had conceived thereof. Nor have you cast a slight obligation on me in the contempt of his proffers, because they are contrary to my unhappy inclinations; and these effects of your goodness I have such a resentment of, that if you knew what struggle pass in my soul upon your account, no doubt you would not charge me with an excess of severity.  
I found somewhat in these words which to my apprehension made more to my advantage then any thing she had said to me before; and attributing them to pure acknowledgement and her gratitude, whereof I had already received several assurances, I conceived I ought to entertain them no otherwise then the rest. Whereupon lifting up my eyes to fasten them on her countenance, with an action wholly passionate, I do not charge you with any thing (said I to her) and I appeal to both Gods and Men. That all I bewail is my own misfortune, without the least repining thought against you. I have undergone it hitherto with all the constany Heaven was pleased to afford me; but now my strength is spent, and I am reduced to such necessity, as to imagine there can be no remedy for me but only in Death. I need not haply go any further than my own grief to find it; but the effect might prove so slow as to tyre my expectations, so that I must be forced to court it in those ways wherein so many great persons have have met with it. I will go and spend in a Military employment the unfortunate remainders of a life that was so odious to you; nor is the Universe so peaceable, as not to afford War enough to dispatch one, whom his miseries have long since sacrificed to Death.  
These words I uttered with such an action as produced some effect on Tullia's mind already softened into compassion, so that when she was going to make me some answer, she perceived coming into the Walk where we were, Cicero and the company newly arrived, who came along with him to find us out. Yet not willing to leave me without some reply, in those terms of despair wherein she saw me, No Lentulus (said she to me) do not think of any such resolution, the Gods have haply some compassion reserved for us, and will work some change in our fortunes. These few words were all she could say to me, nor had I the time to reflect much upon them, by reason of the coming up to us of Cicero and those that were with him, whom we found to be Scipio and Emilia, and two other Ladies of Tullia's more intimate acquaintance, that came from Rome to visit them.  
The arrival of Emilia and Scipio brought me all the consolation I was at that time capable of; but my condition was such, as that joy could not make any impression on my mind▪ And though I entertained both with all the kindness and caresses I was able, yet did they discover what observation they made of my affliction, by what they expressed themselves▪ Cicero, a lover of pleasure, even to excess, endeavoured above all things the diversion of the company he had in his House, and for the space of two days I endeavoured compliance, to avoid disgusting my Friends, as also to find in Tullia's last expressions some ground to hope: But my Melancholy having infected all my apprehensions, and left in my soul nothing but sadness and distractions, I could derive no more encouragement from them than I had done from the precedent, as proceeding from a compassion whereof she had given me many fruitless marks, such as had nothing common with Love. Emilia would persuade me to the contrary, when I gave her an account of it, and endeavoured, as having, as she said, observed somewhat more than ordinary in her Friend's disposition, to reinforce my heart with a new supply of Hopes: But Despair having possessed itself of the place, it would have proved a hard attempt to get in any. So that at last, not able to endure company, nor resist the violence of my affliction, I thought it my only way to prosecute the design I had resolved on some days before, and engage in the War then breaking forth in Pannonia. I thought it best to depart thence without taking leave of any one, and forbear going to Rome (though I was not sufficiently furnished with things necessary, yet had enough for one, defied Death so much, that he cared not how soon he met with him) as not doubting but that Cicero, and Scipio, and all my Friends would use all possible endeavours to divert me from my Design, and put such rubs in my way, that it would prove hard for me to execute it. To this end, Cicero having appointed a Hunting-match the next day, I thought a fairer opportunity to be gone could not be expected, it being likely no notice would have been taken of my departure, and that, having given my people order to expect me with my Horses at a place I should appoint them, upon the way I intended to take, I might easily slip aside, and meet with them, without any bodies observing it, before night. For the rest, I referred myself to the disposal of my Destiny, that which was most occurrent to my thoughts being, that I was, without any further consideration, to run upon my own Death. Having thus settled all things in order to my Design, I writ that night a Letter to Tullia, to be delivered to her after my departure, whereof the words were these.  
LENTULUS to TULLIA.  
I Am now preparing for my death, inexorable Tullia! since it is the only remedy I can imagine will put a period to my misfortune; and I shall not complain either of that Destroyer of Mankind, or of You, if, while I die for your sake, I have the happiness to please you, after I had displeased you while I lived. I charge you not with my misfortune, but sacrifice what I am now going to lose, in some measure to the grief I have for yours. The Gods know that if the remedies that should abate it had been possibly attainable, I should gladly have sacrificed the remainders of my quiet to gain them, and that I should have resisted my own misfortunes, had they not been multiplied upon me by a fatal conjunction of yours. If the Fates reserve you for a better Fortune, I heartily pardon them their malice to me: And as my Mind was disseated out of myself to be the more constantly attended on you, so is it for you alone that it breathes out its last wishes, and that it desires of the Gods you may find that which I never could for myself. Farewell, fairest Tullia! I hasten to my death without any regret, other than that of being eternally banished your presence; and since Death itself can never force your fair image out of a faithful Mind, have the compassion to bestow some few minutes of your precious remembrance, on the memory of the unfortunate Lentulus.  
Having written this Letter, and given some order to my people about my departure, yet without acquainting any of them with my Design, I went to bed, and having passed away the night in such disturbances as you may well imagine, I got up in the morning long before any of those whom the love of Hunting had awaked. How fully soever I might be settled in my resolution, yet could I not see Scipio and Cicero without some motion of grief and tenderness, when I bethought myself I was so to leave them as never to see them again: But my Despair having the absolute command of my Soul, tyrannising over all other impressions it might be capable of, I soon silenced those that were any way contrary to my Design, and having given my Letter to one of my men whom I was to leave behind, with order to deliver it to Tullia two hours after our departure, I got on Horseback with the rest, and followed them to the place where the Hunters met. It was not long ere a Stag was put up, and Cicero and Scipio being out of emulation earnest upon the pursuit, thought it not strange, that, considering the weak condition I was in, I should lag a little behind, and were gotten a vast distance from me, without the least jealousy of my Design.  
When they were gotten out of sight, after I had with the tears in my eyes, muttered some few words, whereby I took my last leave of them, I wheeled about, and made towards the way I had resolved to take, intending to lodge that night at Vellium, where I had appointed my people to meet me, and whence I should have sent one to Rome, with order to meet me three days after at a place to be named to him, with what Equipage were thought necessary for me. To speak clearly and truly, I knew not well what my intention was, as having not determined any thing but with much confusion, though this for one thing I had fully resolved, never to appear among men again, and to go and run upon a death that should prove much less cruel to me then the life I was so weary of.  
As I road along taken up with thoughts, I called to mind the Destiny of Julius Antonius, who six or seven years before had taken the same course for the same Tullia, and left Rome with such another intention as mine, and had not been heard of ever since. Having made a comparison betwixt his Fortune and mine, and reflected on the conformity between them; Well, (said I, lifting my eyes to Heaven) since it is the Destiny of those that love Tullia, to go and seek in Death the determination of their afflictions, let us submit ourselves thereto without repining, and be not much troubled to meet with a Fortune suitable to that of Julius Antonius. While my thoughts were entertained with these sad reflections, getting still further from the place where I had left my Friends, I was surprised by a violent shower of Rain, which in a short time made its way through my clothes, and met me as far as that liquid substance could find a passage. The condition I was in took off much of the reflection I should have made on that inconvenience, as to the body: but at last it grew so great a Tempest, together with Thunder, Lightning, and impetuous showers of Hail, that it was impossible to follow any way; so that insensibly straying out of that which I was in, and not able to get into it again, I followed another, which instead of carrying me further, brought me nearer Cicero's House. At last, not able to go any further, and my Horse being in a manner tired by reason of the Hail and Tempest falling heavy upon him, I was forced to turn into certain houses, which I perceived not much out of the way, to stay till the violence of the weather were over: but it continued till night come on, and then it began a little to abate. I was forced to take up my Lodging in that place, and the people of the house having me to bed, offered me of what they had, and very carefully dried my clothes. The remembrance of my misfortune, the perpetual torment of my memory, kept me awake all night, and falling asleep about the break of day, through weariness and distraction, or rather my Destiny so ordering it, I rested many hours together without ever waking, and it was grown so late when I opened my eyes, that ere I could get my clothes on, and be ready to take Horse, the best part of the day was passed. In fine, having enquired out the way I had miss, I found myself extremely strayed, and that to return into that which led to Vellium, I must go a vast way about, which took up my thought for some time longer. But it was the Gods and my good Fortune that thus ordered things, for that whilst I was yet at a small distance from the place where I had lain, having heard the noise of Horses behind me, and turning about to see who were coming, I perceived Scipio and Cicero riding for life after me, and who had almost come up to me ere I had discovered them. 'Twere hard for me to express the confusion I was in at their arrival, nay I suffered my two Friends to embrace me several times, and tell me many things relating to my Passion, ere I could recover myself so as to make them one word of answer. At last, Cicero, shaking off the disorder whereunto they were put by that which they had caused in me; What L●ntulus, (said he to me) can you with so much cruelty abandon the dearest of your Friends? Nay, you forsake (added Scipio) the person you most adore, Tullia, that Tullia who desires your presence, and sends after you. It is my persuasion (replied I, with a very doleful countenance) that my Friends may haply be troubled at my departure; but for Tullia, I think her resentments of it are suitable to what she conceived at all the other effects of my misfortune: And if you have no other Artifice to persuade me to a value of the life I am ready to cast away, your attempts will prove ineffectual. Lentulus (replied Cicero) imagine not there is any Artifice either in our procedure or discourses; Tullia is of such an humour as you would desire her to be of, and she is not only sensible of what she owes you, but also resolved to return it you without any violence. And whereas (added Scipio) we do not haply deserve you should give credit to our discourses, we bring you greater assurances of a truth which you would not absolutely believe upon our report. With these words he presented me with a Letter, which I received, and opened without being able to utter one word, and which I presently knew to be of Tullia's writing. My mouth was upon it as soon as my eyes, though I knew not yet what it contained, and a little after, in a trembling posture, and with a● action so amorously passionate, that my two Friends were moved to pity thereat, I read in it these words.  
TULLIA to LENTULUS.  
I Thought the last words I spoke to you had diverted you from your Design; but since they have not proved so effectual, I employ all the power you have given me over you, to bring you back again. Return Lentulus, if it be true that you love me; and if you can forget what is past, as I desire you would, assure yourself that for the future my acknowledgements shall be consonant to your desires.  
O Gods! (cried I, upon the reading these few Lines) is it possible these words should come from Tullia 's heart; or dare I believe my eyes, and my Friends who would convince me of so unexpected a change? This first transport being over, I several times read over Tullia's Letter, and thereupon opening my heart for the entertainment of Hope, gently making its way into it; It cannot be otherwise (added I) then that these words, which have such a sovereign virtue for the preservation of my life, must come from the hands of Tullia: but who can secure me that she writ them not merely out of compassion, or that it is not an effect of her Brother's authority, which I would not owe my Fortune to, if it be contrary to Tullia 's inclinations.  
It would be long, great Princesses, ere I should make an end, should I repeat all that my different Passions put into my mouth upon that occasion. And because it is now time to conclude this tedious relation, I shall only tell you, that my two Friends, having born with my transports and first diffidences, both protested to me, that Tullia's Letter was the effect of her own pure inclination; that it was indeed true, that Cicero had spoken on my behalf, and had expressed to her the desire he had to see me better treated and satisfied than I had been, but that in his discourse he had employed persuasion rather than authority: That Emilia and Scipio, since their arrrival joined with him to convince that inexorable spirit, and that beyond all hope, they had observed in it those disposition▪ which they looked not for; that it was much in suspense upon the very receipt of my Letter, and upon the reading of it so moved, that they could hardly have desired a greater effect in a mind as much inclined to love, as that of Tullia had ever been averse from it: so that they were at no great pains to persuade her to do what they would, to write that Letter, and to promise she would entertain my services for the future as favourably as I could desire she should. In fine, Madam, they by their discourses reduced me from the extremity of affliction to that of joy, & forcing out of my mind all the dreadful resolutions I had received in there, they brought me back to Cicero's House, so changed, that I was hardly taken to be the same man. I saw again my fairest Tullia, with a joy it is impossible for me to express to you, though not absolutely free from confusion; I embraced her knees with tears, and transports, which the presence of so many persons could not oblige me to forbear; and the Gods were pleased I should observe in her the change my Friends had persuaded me to expect. She bore with the first discoveries of my Passion, without expressing her acceptance thereof otherwise than by looks full of mildness; and when she could speak to me without being heard by any but Emilia. You see, Lentulus, (said she to me) the effect of that compassion which the Gods have had on us, and which I gave you some assurance of upon the first sentiments I had of it! My mind is now delivered, through their assistance▪ from the torment it was before unjustly exposed to, and I should tell you that I have reduced it to an acknowledgement of your virtuous affection, as I ought to do, could I believe you have forgotten my weakness, and continued your esteem for a person you have sometime thought in some measure worthy it. I shall think it an obligation if you attribute it to the disposal of Heaven, or to some extraordinary misfortune, rather than to the natural currant of my inclinations; and I am apt to hope you will make no other judgement of it, when you shall have known me better.  
I made such answer to this discourse of Tullia's as whence she might be satisfied, That the knowledge I had had of her unhappiness was so far from raising any impression in my mind that were prejudicial to her, that it had given me rather an admiration of her Virtue, seeing her oppose and subdue, with so much glory, an enemy that any other would have been crushed by: And I prevailed so far with her, that she quitted all the scruples she might derive from that imagination. Whereupon I perceived, that from time to time her mind became more and more free from that malicious passion, till at last there was not the least tract left of it, she being, without any repugnance, willing to submit to her Brother's disposal, which was to put a period to my sufferings by a Marriage. In fine, all things became as favourable, as they had been contrary, to my designs; and my felicity had been consummated, had it not been thought fit, for many important considerations, which I could not except against, that we should defer it till the return of Augustus; and Tullia told me she was very glad of that delay, to the end I might be the more fully satisfied in that interval, whether there remained in her any thing of her affection for Ptolomey. Since that time returning to Rome, I spent my time with as much pleasure and enjoyment as I had had affliction before that happy change: And when I was grown so confident of my Fortune as to defy all uncertainty of it, I thought myself obliged to take a journey after the Emperor, to repair my past neglects, and appear before him in a condition suitable to my birth, and the rank I had lived in before.  
Thus did Lentulus conclude his Relation, to the great satisfaction of the two Princesses, who could not, without expressing their gladness thereat, understand the happy issue of his Loves. Especially Cleopatra; to whom the worth of Lentulus was known, congratulated the happy change of his Fortune, and entreated him to afford her a place in Tullia ●s Friendship, whose Virtue she had ever had an esteem for, though she had through her cruelty lost a Brother. Lentulus' answered that obliging discourse of the Princess with much respect, and not long after perceiving the Princess' ready to go to Supper, he took his leave and went to find out Drusus and Ptolomey at the Praetor's, who entertained them that night. That evening they again visited the Princesses, who received their visit in Elisa's Chamber, whither presently after came Olympia and Arsinoe to spend the Evening with them.  
After their departure, and at the accustomed hour, Caesaria made his visit to Candace, with the same circumspection as the former nights; and this time Cleopatra having taken a more particular knowledge of her Brother, & observed in him those many marks of greatness, which she could not at the first have done, entertained him with all the Friendship he could expect upon the account of either blood or desert. He was desirous to leave that suspected Country, and to take his fair Queen along with him; but Cleopatra, who was loath to lose him so soon, after she had beyond all expectation met with him, represented to him, that since Caesar was to come in the next day, 'twas fit Candace stayed his arrival, and discovered herself to him, since that there was no reason she should fear the Emperor's presence, with whom neither she nor any of her Predecessors had had any difference; and that it might be dangerous for her to depart secretly, after she had made an unknown abode there that might have raised a jealousy of her, and cause her to be stayed in her way; since it was not to be doubted but Cornelius would, out of revenge, oblige the Emperor to pursue her, if there were any apparent reason for it. Caesario and Candace, to whom the friendship and presence of Cleopatra were but too dear to be quitted without grief, complied with these considerations, and that the more freely, out of a confidence that Caesario could not be discovered in Alexandria, where the report of his death was credited for the space of ten years, and where he had not been known by his own Brothers, besides the care he took to conceal himself as much as might be. Cleopatra thought not fit that day to make him known to Ptolomey, conceiving it would be time enough some days after, upon a more favourable opportunity. After a visit of two hours, he retired, and the Princesses being gotten to bed, devoted the rest of the night to sleep, as far at least as their different reflections would give them leave to entertain it.   
The end of the First Book.   

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA; OR Loves Masterpiece. Part. XI.  
LIB. II.  
ARGUMENT.  
Augustus maketh his entrance into Alexandria, accompanied by Alcamenes the great King of the Scythians, and all the Princes that had gone to meet him. He is received at the Palace by the six incomparable Princesses, Elisa, Candace, Cleopatra, Artemisa, Arsinoe, and Olympia. He pretends v great esteem for Artaban, and promises him all favour against the pretensions of Tigranes. All the most considerable persons about the Court meet at Julia 's Lodgings, where Agrippa makes a further discovery of his passion for Elisa, Cornelius of his for the Queen of Aethiopia. Augustus takes notice of Agripa 's inclinations for Elisa, and promises, him the utmost of his assistance to gain her; speaks to the Princess on his behalf, but she continues constant to Artaban, ad discovers to him what discourse had passed between her and the Emperor and Agrippa, whom he reproaches with the injustice of his proceeding toward him, and entertains with his resentments thereof.  
THE next day by Sunrising, all the Inhabitants of Alexandria were in Arms ready to march out to meet the Emperor, who was to make his entrance into the City ere the day were to far spent; & though, out of the respect he had for Octavia, and the Children of Anthony, he was not desirous any Solemnity should be used at his coming into a place where the unfortunate Anthony and the great Queen Cleopatra had, after they had seen the ruin of their House lost both their lives; yet did it not hinder but that Cornelius set himself in the head of what Horse there were in Alexandria, and disposed the Infantry without the Gates under the command of his Lieutenants. All other things that were usually done upon the like occasions were purposely omitted, so that there was little to be seen of that Pomp which had been observed in all the other Cities of the Empire, where Caesar had been received after his departure from Rome. All the great Princesses that were in Alexandria, behaving themselves upon this occasion, according to the advice Agrippa had given them the day before, & which they had received from him, as grounded on the instructions he himself had sent him by the Emperor, expected him all together in the Palace, with a resolution to receive him in the Court, and salute him as soon as he were alighted. Drusus, Ptolomey and Lentulus kept them company in that attendance; but it proved not long, it being hardly Noon when Augustus was come into Alexandria. Heaven rung again with the acclamations that were made at the name of Caesar, and yet the people who were the Authors thereof, could not behold his coming into their City, without reflecting on that more dreadful entrance he had made ten years before, on the fatal day, wherein Fortune decided the Empire of the Universe on his side.  
The day happening to be very fair, the Emperor, purposely to prevent the emulation and discontent that might have risen among so many great Princes, who equally pretended to places in his Chariot, came on Horseback from the place where he had lodged the night before, and in that p●sture was attended, or environed by the most celebrious company the world had ever beheld. The Majesty of his Person was no doubt consonant to the greatness or his Fortune, nor could it but raise a certain veneration, to look on the greatest of Mankind, or, to speak modestly, the Master of the greatest part of the Universe, and one that had made himself such, by the assistance which his Fortune had deriv●d from his Prudence and his Sword. Yet were not the eyes and observance of the spectators so absolutely fastened on him, as not withal to have directed them on the countenance, and indeed the whole Parsonage of a Prince that road on one side of him, and whose attractive aspect carried with it the admiration of all that saw him. Besides the beauty of his face, and the goodliness of his deportment, which might justly contest with whatever had come most accomplished from the hands of Nature, his person was remarkable for something above the ordinary rate of men, and not mis-becoming the character of one of the Heroes, or Demigods of Antiquity. But if the excellence of his outward person drew the eyes of all upon him, the general a●●onishment was much greater when it was given out, that it was the great Alcamenes, the Monarch of the Scythians; a person so famous, that, notwithstanding the distance and little commerce there was between his and other Nations, his adventures and glorious actions were confusedly spread over the Universe, and could hardly be credited by those that heard them, as being more suitable to the fables of the Greeks, the● any confidence with ordinary events. Caesar, considering in him the greatness of his Actions, with that of his dignity, and the obligation he had put upon him, contrary to the ordinary proceeding of such Kings as were not tributary to him, to come and visit him after so obliging a manner, and to afford him his company part of his journey, did him the honour which he had never done to any, and treated him in all things as his equal. Nor indeed had he reason to do otherwise, for that, not to press the extraordinary worth of Alcamenes, it was but just that Augustus should put some difference between one of the greatest Kings in the world that had not the least dependence on the Empire, & those Princes that were his vassals & Tributaries.  
After Alcamenes, road along about Caesar, but without any order, Ariobarzanes the new King of Armenia (one more considerable for the sweetness of his person, and his admirable qualities, then for his new dignity) Tigranes King of the Medes, Archelaus King of Cappadocea, Philadelph Prince of Cilicia, Polemon King of Pontus, Mithridates' King of Comagenes; and among all these Kings a man so remarkable, that the want of Crowns abated nothing of those marks of greatness; which were more observable than the Royal Dignity. 'Twas the great Artaban, whose person was made up with such a consummate perfection, and in whose countenance, notwithstanding the natural fierceness of it, there was something so attractive, that the eyes of all were fastened on him, and that not without exclamations and visible discoveries of astonishment and admiration. Nay, the Emperor himself was so struck therewith, that he was not able upon the first sight to deny him what all the world acknowledged due to him; and having understood afterward, that it was the famous Artaban, on whose Sword depended the fates of Empires, and whose noble reputation he had so often heard of, he looked on him as a miraculous person, and entertained him, not only equally with, but indeed as much beyond what he had, those Kings that were of his attendance, as his virtue was above theirs. He discoursed with him almost all the way, but with no small discovery of the esteem and respects he had for him, caused him to ride close by him all that day, and by all manner as it were of familiarity he manifested the respect he had for his virtue. The indignation, madness, and confusion which Tigranes conceived thereat was apparent in his countenance, in somuch that he despaired of any good success of his affairs, though the Emperor had entertained him with much kindness before the arrival of Artaban, and had promised to do him all the justice he could expect. King Ariobarzanes, whose virtue, excellency of person, and great qualities, were not inferior to those of the most accomplished persons, and of whose noble actions the Emperor had deceived an account from the mouth of Agrippa, had been entertained by him with all expressions of esteem and Friendship: nay, Caesar having considered him, not only as one of the most valiant, and most amiable Princes upon earth, but as one raised up from the Grave, and that had escaped a death, which according to the general opinion had snatched him hence, as he was, upon his orders, coming to Rome to be brought up near him, he had received him with more than ordinary kindness, and congratulated his arrival to the Crown, by the death of a brother whose late actions had incensed him, and promised him the protection that he afforded those Kings, who, being his Allies, he had most respects for,  
Prince Philadelph, whose advantages were not inferior to those of the rest, and who, for the no●le adventures of his Loves to Delia, whereof Agrippa had taken the pains to give Caesar an account, and his gallant actions against Artaxus and the King of Parthia, had deserved the love & esteem of all the world, had also had his part in the caresses of the Emperor, & with no small satisfaction, heard from his own mouth, that he would be his mediator to the king his father for his marriage with the Princess Arsinoe, or would openly protect him against his violence, if he could not gain his consent. Archelaus & he, out of a consideration of neighbourhood and the ancient Friendship that had passed between them, could not see one the other again without much satisfaction: and whereas the King of Cappadocia was a Prince of very great worth, the Friendship that had been between them suffered not the least breach of violation through absence or the several Passions their minds had undergone the distractions of. All these Princes road along with Caesar without any order or rank, and with them the great Agrippa, the virtuous Maecenas, and divers others of the most considerable of Agustus' Court, and among all the Romans. The Empress, the Princesses, and all the Ladies that were come along with them, followed at the distance of some Stadia, and before they were got near Alexandria, the Emperor was come into the Palace, and alighted at the foot of the great Stairs.  
He was hardly gotten off his Horse, but his eyes were dazzled with the noblest object the world could afford, in the sight of the six admirable Princesses that came to salute him: and as there was nothing that could come into competition with their beauty, he was accordly so amazed at it, that he had for some time lost all the advantage of motion, and was in a certain suspense as to the reception he should give them. During which, Agrippa, coming up to him, directed him to the fair Princess of the Parthians, whose History he had entertained him with, and whose interests he had very much recommended to him; and the Daughter of Phraates, though she might dispute for precedence with all the Princesses upon earth, yet sensible how far she stood in need of Caesar's protection, against the pretensions of Tigranes, and cruelty of Phraates, would cast herself at his fee●; but the Emperor, perceiving her intention, prevented her, and having held her up in that action he saluted her as the Daughter of his equal, and a Monarch who had never submitted to the Roman power. Elisa having entertained Caesar's civility with abundance of submission, and a sweetness particularly recommendable in her, lifting up to view his countenance those fair eyes, which out of modesty she had till then kept fastened on the ground; My Lord (said she to him) there now stands before you a Princess of the blood of the Arsacides, cast by a tempest upon your Territories, and whom the desire of saluting the great Caesar, and the design of begging his protection hath ever since detained. I am opposed by, and struggle with a malicious Fortune, and such other Powers as against which it is only yours that can secure me. 'Tis at your feet that I cast my self for sanctuary, and I hope you will not deny it me, since the interest of my Country and the House I come of could not dissuade me from desiring it of those who were the greatest and most powerful enemies of both.  
With those words she offered again to do her submissions to Caesar: but the Emperor, who at the sight of those admirable Princesses had shaken off all the Roman gravity, not permitting it, Fair Princess (said he to her) you shall receive from us all you have desired, since all the Monarches upon earth are obliged to attend you with their services and assistance against those Powers that oppose you. Fear not any thing, now that Fortune hath directed your Addresses to us, but be confident, that notwithstanding the bloody Wars and the enmity between our Nations, you shall find among the Romans that quiet and security which you have not among the Parthians.  
These few words were all he said to her, nor had Elisa the time to make any answer thereto, by reason that Cleopatra, desirous it seems, upon Candac's entreaty, to prevent Cornelius' design to present her to Caesar, comes up to him with that fair Queen by the hand. The Empress was no less amazed at the Majesty of Candace than he had been at the beauty of Elisa, and going to turn to Cleopatra to be informed of the name and quality of that excellent person, the Queen her self, after she had saluted him as Elisa had done, looking on him with an action not unsuitable to the greatness of her courage; My Lord (said she to him) there is not any one can acquaint you with what I have not disc●vered to any; but it were unjust for me to conceal my self from the great Caesar, after the refuge and safety I have found in his Dominions. I am Candace, Queen of Ethiopia, whom a traverse of Fortune, insupportable as that of the Princess of the Parthians, cast upon the Coast of Alexandria, and who, though by a happy change, reduced to a condition to return into her own Country, yet thought not fit to leave yours before she had rendered to the great Emperor of the Romans, what he justly may, upon the account of his Dignity and his Virtue, expect from all the world besides.  
Caesar was a little surprised at first hearing of Candace's name; and though Agrippa, when he gave him an account of all the remarkable transactions in Alexandria had not forgot to acquaint him with the adventure of that excellent Queen, and particularly to give a description of her beauty, as one that might pretend as much to it as any in the world, yet could he not give him her name, as being indeed unknown to him. Cornelius was no less astonished at that discovery of the Princess whom he adored, and could not without a passing grief reflect on her being of such a Rank in the World, as in a manner blasted all the hopes he had conceived of obtaining her. All those who had all this time been ignorant of Candace ●s Dignity, were not a little astonished to understand it from her own mouth; but the Emperor, having soon overcome that which at the first apprehension he had expressed thereat, and returned to the Queen what he thought due to her upon that discovery of her quality; Madam (said he to her) I am extremely glad at the services that may have been done, by any related to me, to so great and so fair a Queen as yourself, and no less, that I am in a condition to offer you, as well in Alexandria, and through the whole extent of the Empire, whatever you can desire of an Ally, whose greatest satisfaction it shall be to render you what your M●rit and Dignity may justly challenge.  
Having so said, he turned towards Cleopatra whom he had not yet saluted, and embracing her with all the tenderness he could have expressed, if Julia had been in her place, he, by the most kind and obliging discourses in the world, discovered the joy he conceived at her return and her liberty, the affliction he had been in for her loss, and the resolution he had taken to pursue the King of Armenia to the end of the world, and to bring utter desolation by Fire and Sword into his Country, if the justice of the Gods had not overtaken him. Cleopatra perceived by that discourse, that Agrippa had given Augustus an account of some things that had passed, and accordingly imagined, as indeed it was true, that he had so ordered his Relation as to attribute all to the assistance of Marcellus and Alexander, without making any mention of Coriolanus. Agrippa had not been wanting as to that point of circumspection, and by persuading Caesar, it was by Marcellus' valour that Cleopatra had been recovered out of the hands of Artaxus, he had overburdened him with joy by the tidings he brought him of Marcellus' safe return. Cleopatra, having entertained the caresses of the Emperor with all submission and acknowledgement, made place for Olympia, Arsinoe, and Artemisa, who were presented to him by Ari●barzanes, Philadelph, and, by reason of the absence of Alexander, Ptolomey. His admiration continued still at the sight of so many excellent beauties, though the chiefest the world ever afforded had been bred up at his Court, and he rendered those fair Princesses, whose names were told him, and whose principal adventures he had been informed of, what a Prince high-born, and full of gallantry, as he naturally was▪ could have done upon such an occasion. He took occasion to celebrate Olympia for what she had done and suffered for Ariobarzanes, to thank Artemisa for the safety of Alexander, and, directing his discourse particularly to Arsinoe, the story of whose loves he had been extremely moved at, to say many pleasant things to her, to the great reputation of Delia.  
When he had rendered to these six admirable persons, what, he thought due to them, turning towards King Alcamenes, who standing near him looked on those miraculous beauties with an astonishment he could not express; You have suffered so much (said he to him) and done such extraordinary things for a handsome Woman, that it must needs be concluded that Beauty hath no mean influence upon you. If it be so, as no doubt but it is, you should not be a little satisfied with your coming hither, there being few places in the world where you might meet with so much Beauty, as you now find in Alexandria. I am not only persuaded (replied the King of the Scythians, who spoke the Roman Language as perfectly as he did his own) that the whole earth cannot parallel what now appears to our eyes, but am inclined to believe, that, putting all the past Ages together, it hath not produced any thing comparable thereto, and the gods express the care they have of your glory & greatness, when they make it so much their business to glean together from the several quarters of the World, whatever it hath that's most fair, to adorn and embellish your Court withal.  
They were in these terms, and the Emperor, ravished at the objects that in a manner captivated his sight, had not yet bethought him of going up the stairs, when came into the Court the Chariots of the Empress, and those of the Princesses that accompanied her. Livia was in her own, with the Princess Octavia, the Princess Antonia her Daughter, & Terentia, Maecenas his Lady, whom the subtle and politic Livia pretended abundance of kindness for, though she was not ignorant of the love which Augustus had for her. In the same Chariot was also the Queen of Celicia, who not many days before was come to Augustus' Court, having brought along with her the Princess Urania her Daughter, and the virtuous Andromeda her Daughter in Law. After that came in Julia's Chariot, wherein was that Princess, and with her the discreet and fair Andromeda, the beloved Sister of Philadelph, Urania, Sister to Archelaus, who had sometime been designed a Wife for Philadelph, and the excellent Cipassis, whom Julia treated with no less ceremony than she did those were born Princesses. Then came in that of Octavia, wherein were Agrippina, Marcelia, and Marcia, and with them Sabina and Sulpitia. In that of Terentia, which came in next were Helvidia, Virginia, Hortensia, and Servilia; and after these came in several others wherein were the most considerable of the Roman Ladies, who would needs accompany Livia in her progress.  
As soon as the Empress was alighted out of her Chariot, the Emperor went towards her, leading in one hand the Princess Elisa, and in the other the Queen of Aethiopia. Livia was no less astonished at their beauty, than Augustus had been! and Maecenas, who had helped her out, having acquainted her with their names before they were come up to her, she entertained them as persons of a quality equal to her own, and gave them a reception full of civility and obligation: and having not permitted the submissions which they would have made to her, she reiterated the proffers which the Emperor had already made to them, with a grace and insinuation particular only to her. That done, she received Olympia, Arsinoe and Artemisa, whom being presented to her, she was made acquainted with, and entertained with an equal mildness and several times embraced the Princess Cleopatra, t●● more to express the satisfaction she conceived at her liberty. Julia, Octavia, and the Princesses her Daughters, entertained them with no less ceremony, and though Julia might with some jealousy look on those Beauties which in some measure eclipsed her own, yet being naturally of a m●ld and sprightly disposition, she was not clouded with the least melancholy or disturbance at this interveiw, & entertained these illustrious persons with the greatest freedom and kindness imaginable: and her caresses were more particularly directed to the Princess Cleopatra, whom she several times embraced, congratulating her happy recovery, with all the demonstrations of a real and true Friendship. But she was forced to resign her to the embraces of Octavia, Antonia, and her Sisters, who by thousands of kisses, and words accompanied with tears of joy, discovered to her, what affliction they had conceived at her misfortune, and how glad they were at the happy issue of her shipwreck and captivity. Octavia kept her a long time in her arms, with expressions of tenderness and affection equal to those she might have found in a true Mother; and when she had done, she left her to the fair Antonia, for whom she had had a very particular affection, and whom she had trusted with the knowledge of her most important secrets.  
But if Friendship produced these effects between those admirable persons, with much more reason might it be expected in the meeting of Philadelph with his beloved Sister, the amiable Andromeda: and if the Prince of Cilicia was surprised to see her, and with her the Princess Urania, whose affections he had slighted, to address himself to Delia, the prudent Andromeda was no less astonished, so much contrary to her expectation, to meet with that so much desired Brother, whose absence she had bewailed with so many tears. The first eruption of her joy was in a sudden outcry; but when she began to express herself in caresses and words proceeding from the transcendency of Passion, she finds herself embraced, and turning towards the person from whom she received that kindness, she perceived, with an astonishment much beyond the former, that she was between the arms of Delia. Her surprisal had been much less, if she had been the night before with Augustus, when Agrippa gave him an account of what was most remarkable at Alexandria: But having not had the least notice of it, that unexpected interview raised such a disturbance in her, that it was a long time ere she could find words to express her thoughts of it. She thereupon quitted her Brother, to return Delia the expressions she received from her of her Friendship; and when the astonishment she was in permitted her to speak, What means the kind Deities (said she to her) to make me so happy, as not only to meet with that Philadelph whom Delia had taken away from us; but I must, with Philadelph, find that Delia whom he had lost as well as we! You are not mistaken, Sister, (replied the Prince) you indeed see that inexorable Delia, and which is more, you will find her such by birth, as that you will think it no less honour to entertain her alliance, if you may obtain it, as you sometime thought you did her in the proffer of yours.  
Arsinoe and Andromeda were going to make some reply, but they were interrupted by those that thronged in, and were forced to expect the mutual account they were to give one the other at some more convenient time and place; and Philadelph, after he had saluted the Princess Urania with very much respect, went to do his duty to the Queen of Cilicia his Stepmother, who, notwithstanding the ancient quarrel she had against him, received him with expressions of a cordial affection.  
The Palace of Alexandria, which some years before had been the Royal Seat of the Ptolemies, enriched and embellished by the magnificence of a long series of great Monarches, was one of the most sumptuous, and most spacious Houses the earth ever was proud of; so that all the Court of Augustus, at least, all those persons who out of a consideration of their quality might expect Lodgings in the Emperor's Palace, found conveniences enough here▪ The King of the Scythians, and after him, all the Princes that were about Caesar, had sumptuous Lodgings appointed them, and the King of Armenia, who with the Princesses his Sisters and Prince Philadelph had taken a House in the City, left it, upon Order from Caesar to come and lodge in the Palace. Elisa and Candace, being unwilling to part, had kept the Lodgings they were in before; but Cleopatra left hers, to be near Octavia, whom she was wont not to be at any great distance from, and it was taken up by the Queen of Cilicia and the two Princesses, her Daughter and Step-daughter.  
The numerous retinue of so many Princes was disposed up and down the great City of Alexandria, which seemed then to be rather the Metropolis of the Universe, than the principal City of Egypt, and more proud of the abode of Caesar and so many illustrious persons, then of that of so many Kings as had reigned there, and the glory of its Founder. People immediately resort thither from all parts of the Universe, and the report which was scattered abroad of Augustus' intention to continue there some time, brought thither some out of all Na●●ons upon earth. The Emperor finding himself accompanied by so great a number of ●●e most considerable persons, of both Sexes, that the world could afford, and particularly by the King of the Scythians whom he had more than ordinary respects for, the Princess of the Parthians and the Queen of Ethiopia, whose Territories had not any dependence on the Empire, resolved to treat them with all magnificence, and entertain them with those divertisements which the pomp of the Romans had invented, such as Races performed by Horse alone, or with Chariots, and Duels fought by the Gladiators a-among themselves, or with savage Beasts, which he caused to be brought every where after him, and whereof there was already come a great number to Alexandria.  
The very same night there met a magnificent Assembly at the Princess Julia's Lodgings, where, to the sound of a great number of Instruments, that illustrious company danced all those Dances, which, from the Greeks and other Nations, had been derived to the Romans, and which for that time proved the chiefest of their divertisements. Julia appeared more cheerful than ●he would have been at that meeting, to comply with the Order she had received from Caesar, though that by reason of the absence of Marcellus, her soul seemed to be in a mourning posture; but a mourning indeed suitable to her humour which was not over-susceptible of the most pressing griefs. Thousands of Torches convert Night into Day, to comply with the enjoyments of the nollest company that the Sun through all the period of his course cast his all-searchi●g eye upon. The King of Armenia, and the two Princesses his Sisters, were dispensed from being there, by reason of the late death of Artaxus, though the whole Assembly were extremely desirous of the presence of Delia. These famous beauties, the chieffest haply the Earth could afford, appeared that night with all the advantages they could derive from either ornament or dressing; and whereas Elisa and Candace had not at Alexandria all things requisite, suitably to their quality, the officious Cleopatra, whose external beauty and internal excellencies were beyond all emulation and envy, made provision for their dressing, and furnished them with all they could desire, to heighten that by foreign ornament, and accommodations, whereof Nature had been so liberal to them. Nor was their appearance in that admirable company, otherwise then as that of two bright Stars, raising an admiration not only in those that had not seen them before, but even in those that had seen them in another condition, though with some inequality, Elisa's fairness giving her some advantage over the complexion of Candace, to whom the Torches were so much the less favourable. Julia indeed was the most glorious object there, as well by reason of her natural beauty, as the ornaments whereby she had advanced it, and adding to the lustre of her countenance the sprightliness of her eyes, the freedom, gallantry and insinuation of her action and deportment, she for a long time enhanced to herself the observance of the whole Assembly. Antonia, though with less Art, appeared no less beautiful than she, and by the command and modesty of her looks, she produced as great effects as Julia had done by all the surprising management of hers. Never was there any thing seen that expressed more modesty, and at the same time more attraction; nor yet was ever Virtue so well discovered and acted in external apparences, as in the countenance, nay indeed the whole personage of Antonia. Her Sisters, Agrippina, Marcia, and Marcelia▪ fair and sumptuosly dressed, had also those that approved them; And Terentia, Wife to Maecenas, the worthy object of Caesar's affection, and whose beauty was not much inferior to the most accomplished, showed herself with a more than ordinary lustre. Andromida, and Urania, among beauties that darkened all near them, were thought very handsome; and the lovely Cipassis, having, upon Julia's command, dressed herself that night, appeared with so many advantages, that there were hardly in that miraculous company, and consequently not in the whole Universe, above two or three Beauties that could be preferred before hers. Sulpitia, Sabina, Hortensia, and divers other illustrious Roman Ladies, discovered, both by their countenances and their clothes, abundance of Magnificence and beauty: but that, what was most remarkable in this so famous Assembly, how beautiful or admirable soever it might be was darkened, or at lest eclipsed by the celestial beauty of the incomparable Cleopatra, was the general acknowledgement of all; having that night, upon the command of Octavia, put on clothes far richer than she was ordinarily wont to wear, though there were but little conformity between the posture of her Soul at that time, and those external discoveries of Gallantry, she heightened the lustre of the clothes by scattering about them part of those precious stones which the Queen her Mother had sometime made ostentation of with so much sumptuousness and prodigality. But they added not so much to her beauty as they lost of their own by being so near her, it being the general opinion of the whole Assembly, that the fire of her Diamonds was much less sparkling than that of her eyes. Her person and deportment seemed to be wholly directed by the hands of the Graces, it being impossible an eye should fasten itself on that delightful object, without raising in the soul a joy whereby it was heightened & transported. Those on whom she darted her director looks, could not receive them without being dazzled thereby; and those to whom she spoke, seemed as if they were charmed into silence and astonishment.  
But though the ornament of the Assembly lay most on the fairer Sex, yet could it not be said that the men had been wanting as to what might be expected from them, and accordingly many of them thought it not unseasonable to make ostentation of their magnificence and endowments in the most illustrious Assembly of the Universe. King Alcamenes, who was about the thirtieth year of his Age, and betrayed no less youthfulness and gallantry in his inclinations then he had done when, in Dacia, under the name of Alcimedon, he had gained the affections of Menalippa, appeared there all Gold and Precious Stones, and heightening the sweetness and Majesty of his look, by ornaments so far different from the ancient meanness of the Scythians, he raised astonishment in those, who, though well acquainted with the Pomp of the Romans, had not seen any thing equally sumptuous, and gave all that were present occasion to reflect on what they had heard related of his miraculous Adventures. The amorous Drusus presented himself with a magnificence nothing inferior to that of the Scythian King, and as to property of person, exactness of carriage, and indeed whatever was taking and amiable, there being few with whom he might not dispute precedence, the company looked on him, with much delight and approbation. Agrippa, who for some years before seemed to have shaken hands with that kind of gallantry, the more to mind matters of War, and the government of the Empire, reassuming, out of the Love he had for Elisa, his more youthful inclinations, showed himself amongst the most magnificent of the Assembly, and added to his high and martial look the Ornament of that Gold and Diamonds he had before contemned. Archelaus came in also sumptuously clad, and though the memory of Antonia had proved a great affliction to him, and had caused him a long time to neglect his person, yet had he for some days before minded himself more than he was wont to do, and suffered himself to be o'ercome by the inclination he felt growing in him for the fair Princess Andromeda, Sister to Philadelph. Tigranes, in whom resentment and indignation were more powerful than the love of Gallantry, came to the Assembly without any thing extraordinary as to Ornament, and would not have been there, had it not been for fear of displeasing the Emperor, who seemed to have desired his presence. Mithridates' King of Comagenes, groaning still under the grief he had conceived at the loss of Antonia, yet made his appearance among the rest pompously enough; and Polemon King of Pontus in a condition not much different. Domitius presented himself clad to the height of Roman magnificence, to the eyes of Agrippina, whom he served, and was upon the point to marry: and young Ptolomey, as much to please his own humour as to honour Marcia, who passionately loved him, had not abated any thing of what the ●iches of habit and deportment could add to that of his countenance and person. Crassus, a person very considerable among the Romans, as well for a many excellent qualities, as the famous Victories he had gained not long before against the Basternae, whose King he had killed with his own hands, in the head of his Army, undergoing the griping of a secret love, where●n he had Augustus himself for his Rival, had not omitted any thing might render him acceptable in the sight of Terentia; and Lentu●us, though at a great distance from the object of his affections; Ovid, gallant enough as to accoutrements & person; A●binus, Cinna, Emilianus, and divers others of the most eminent Romans, presented themselves so much the more sumptuously, out of an emulation of magnificence. But among all those whom Gold, Precious Stones, and Diadems made the more remarkable to those that were present, Artaban, a person in all likelihood hewn out for the Wars and the overturning of Empires, made his appearance as it had been in the head of an Army, yet raised no less love and admiration in those who looked on him, than he did terror in his enemies when he was upon his march towards them. The Emperor who knew what condition he was in, and what accident brought him to Alexandria, had, in order to this Assembly presented him with a sumptuous habit, which he durst not refuse, so that the handsomeness of his person heightened thereby, he seemed to be somewhat more than humane. and drew to himself the respect and affections of all that were present. The freedom of his carriage, and his stature somewhat above the ordinary rate of men, discovered itself with all its beauty, and that natural fierceness that was so observable in his eyes, and all his deportment, was upon this occasion moderated by such an attractive mildness, as yet through which there visibly broke forth something great and Majestical. Whence it came to pass, that in this illustrious Assembly he was respected beyond even those that were of Royal dignity, insomuch that in imitation of Julia, all the Ladies were extremely desirous of his conversation, and to do him all the honour imaginable. O what a satisfaction was it to Elisa to find her affection countenanced by so general an approbation; and what regret and affliction to Tigranes, to see, even in his presence, so much honour done to him whose competition was such a torment to him, and whom merely for the want of a Crown and Royal extraction he had imagined so much below him! Agrippa himself, notwithstanding the greatness of his spirit and virtue, could not without some inclination to envy, look on so powerful a Rival, but wished Fortune had raised against him one of the greatest Kings in the world rather than such a Corrival. Alcamenes, and he, who indeed might with reason dispute all things, looked on one the other without any emulation, and finding themselves mutually worthy one another's Friendship, they both embraced it with equal earnestness and inclination. Alcamenes, who, though a great King himself, set a lower value on Royalty than Virtue, and withal laughed at the unjust cotempt which his Competitors expressed towards him, having, even while he sojourned in the Court of Dacia as a private person under the name of Alcimedon, entertained him, to the confusion of those that envied him, with as much respect and acknowledgement as if he had been King of a Monarchy equal to his own; and after many words, whereby those two great Souls assured one the other of an indissoluble Friendship, Alcamenes taking him by the hand, I enter into Friendship and Alliance with you (said he to him) as King of the Parthians: I doubt not but you will one day attain that Crown; and if to carry on, or maintain you in the just pretensions you may have thereto, the assistance of your Friends be requisite, I shall be ready to serve you in the Head of a hundred thousand men. This he spoke so loud, that it was heard by Tigranes; but whether out of the respect he had for Augustus, or some other considerations, he pretended not to have heard it, though he conceived such a grief and indignation thereat, as he found it no small difficulty to dissemble. Artaban answered so noble a proffer with the respect and submission he had for virtuous Princes, by whom he was not slighted, and, by the after-conversation he had with the Scythian King, made him sensible, that all he had received from Fame of the greatness of his courage, was below the truth. Nor is it hard to imagine, that all those persons of so many different Nations that then were in Alexandria could discourse together notwithstanding the difference of their Languages, since that it was a general ambition in all Kingdoms, especially those that had any commerce with the Empire, to learn the Roman Language, and that there were few considerable persons in the world who were not very skilful in it.  
This Assembly, how admirable soever it might already be, would have seemed much more noble to the Emperor, if Marcellus had been there, his absence being only that which, in his apprehension, hindered it from being complete. Livia had the same reflections for Tiberius, whose presence out of a maternal desire she could not but wish; and Cleopatra and the Queen of Ethiopia, having with justice commended it in her, whispered one another in the ear, that that Assembly would be absolutely consummated in the presence of Coriolanus and Caesario, could their several Fortunes have permitted it. The Emperor had been informed of Marcellus' return, and thence imagined, that since his last departure, whereof he was not able to guess at the occasion, he could not be gotten far, and the Princess Cleopatra, having that evening had the opportunity of some discourse with Julia, assured her, that Marcellus was not far from Alexandria, and that he had shaken off that jealousy out of which he had left her, upon the confession of Volusius, whose arrival she gave her an account of, as also of the Artifices of Tiberius, and the innocence of Coriolanus. Yet thought she not fit to tell her that that Prince was somewhere about Alexandria, though she was confident, that upon her knowledge of it she would not do him the least ill office; and they together concluded it unseasonable as yet to make any discovery of the base Artifices of Tiberius, by reason of Livia's being concerned therein, and the confusion she might be likely to conceive thereat.  
During the entertainments of so gallant an Assembly, wherein so many illustrious persons endeavoured to express their Courtship and noble dispositions no less than their Magnificence, Agrippa having continued some time at the back of Elisa's Chair, and none presuming to interrupt the discourse he had with her, out of the respect which all bore him, had the opportunity to entertain her with his passion, more favourably than he had had any time before: Yet out of all the conversation he had with her, could he not derive the least hope, though the Princess, whose inclinations were naturally full of mildness, took no offence at him, as she might haply have done at any other, for whom she would not have had the same compliance. King Alcamenes entertained the Princess Cleopatra, and Artaban had a long discourse with Julia, who could not but admire all things in him. Cornelius finding an opportunity to come near Candace, and looking on her with a respect which the knowledge he had of her quality, added to what he had for her before, upon the account of his affection; Madam (said he to her) I come to demand your pardon for the faults which out of my ignorance I may have committed against you: But had you been pleased to discover yourself, I should have endeavoured to render you what is due to so great a Queen. I am easily inclined to believe (replied the Queen very sharply) that I was not known to you, and if I had, to imagine your carriage had been much otherwise towards me than it hath been for some days past▪ But since you have put an obligation upon me, which nothing can force out of my remembrance, I am willing to forget your past miscarriages, out of a confidence you will not be guilty of any the like hereafter. Ah Madam! (replied the Praetor) It is not for that offence that I beg your pardon, nor can I think myself criminal for a thing I neither can nor shall ever repent me of. That which I charge myself with as most injurious to you, is, That I have omitted those formalities which are to be observed towards so great a Queen; but you could not certainly take offence at a passion, which a Goddess, were there any such among us, would think innocent: If therefore that be the offence I stand guilty of, I shall die in the guilt of it. Cornelius (says the Queen, looking very disdainfully on him) Caesar is now in Alexandria, force me not to represent these injurious proceedings of yours towards me; and know, that I would not suffer from himself the unjust freedom you take with me.  
With these words she turned away from him, and engaged herself in the conversation of Alcamenes and Cleopatra who was sat close by her. Cornelius was at such a loss, that he found it no small difficulty to dissemble the confusion he was in and after he had continued a while in suspense what countenance to put upon it, he left the place where he was, and went to Tigranes, whom he found no less discontented than himself, and with whom he held a great correspondence.  
All this while was Alcamenes in discourse with Cleopatra, whose celestial Beauty and transcendent Wit he thought worthy the greatest admiration, and the Princess, in whom the relation of the prodigious Adventures of that Prince had raised no less, took occasion to express the satisfaction she received in her Captivity from the relation Megacles had made of ●is miraculous Adventures even to the least particularities. Whereupon having given him those commendations which he could not without some difficulty receive from such a Princess as Cleopatra; It must certainly be acknowledged (said she to him, with a grace which it was impossible to meet with in any other) that what we have heard related of the fabulous Heroes of ancient times, is incomparably below the miracles of your life: But forbearing to mention those prodigious acts of valour, whereby you have acquired so vast a reputation, you will give me leave to celebrate in you that admirable fidelity of your affection, as such as whereof all the past Ages cannot afford us a like example.  
The King of the Scythians could not forbear blushing at that discourse of the Princess, and answering her with an excessive modesty; If my actions (said he to her) have raised me into any degree of reputation among Barbarians, they cannot signify any such thing, when they come to the knowledge of persons among whom the greatest are ordinary; and I shall withal presume to tell you, that we deserve not any commendation for doing things which we are but too much obliged to, and aught to observe towards the sovereign Mistresses of our Souls to the last gasp of life. But Madam (added he) I did not imagine that the accidents of my life had come to your knowledge, as conceiving that Fame had otherwise employment enough to acquaint the world with the miracle of Cleopatra, too much haply to trouble herself with the adventures of a Scythian. And indeed I must do her that right, as to assure you, that she hath in some measure done you the justice she ought, and that what I understood from her of you, in Nations that lie at a great distance from this, hath not been one of the least motives to put me upon seeking of that in Caesar's Court which cannot be seen in all the Universe besides. Ah my Lord, (replies the Princess) you honour me too much, and you give me what I expected not from you for such truths as are but too much due to yourself! I know not the reasons you had to undertake a journey whence we derive so great advantages, but you cannot persuade me, you should come out of your own Territories, to seek for any thing greater than yourself, or more beautiful than Queen Menalippa. Not, I must confess (added she, by a graceful diversion to bring about the discourse to such a subject as her modesty could better bear with) but that in some intervals I have been much inclined to quarrel with that fair Queen, or at least could not without impatience reflect on that cruel mistake which produced such horrid effects, and made her with so much earnestness endeavoor to put a period to a life a thousand times dearer to her then her own. And you will also give me leave to tell you, (replied the Scythian, speaking somewhat lower) that I have not conceived a less affliction and resentment, when I understood that a Prince the most amiable and most virtuous among men, after he had deserved your kindnesses, as far as they could be deserved by extraordinary endowments and great actions, rendered himself afterwards unworthy thereof, by a change that armed against him the resentments of all the world, and gave us occasion to consider, either with indignation or pity, the blindness and weaknesses of all men.  
Alcamenes observing the disturbance which this discourse of his had raised in the thoughts of Cleopatra legible in her face, it repented him that he had meddled with that subject. And he secretly condemned the indiscretion he thought himself chargeable with, when the Princess no longer able to suffer the injury done Coriolanus' innocency though she thought it no fit season to divulge it, after she had done some violence to a sign which would force its passage out; My Lord (said she to him) there is sometimes a vast distance between apparencies and truth, and it is so ordinary with Time to discover what the malice of men would disguise that he whom we charge with inconstancy, will be found much more unfortunate in it then guilty of it. It should be one of the heartiest of my wishes (replies Alcamenes) it were so, and could he clear himself of that crime, I should gladly contribute any thing that lay in my power to moderate or put a period to his misfortune: For in fine, Madam, the account I had received of the noble actions of his life had raised in me such an esteem and affection for him, as would hardly afford any entertainment to a belief of the infidelity he is so much reproached with, and made me wish his innocence, though it were with the loss of many things I should highly value. If it be my happiness ever to see him again (replies the Princess) I shall acquaint him with this expression of your of Goodness; and durst I speak any more on his behalf, I should presume to tell you, that he is Master of those excellent endowments that might render him worthy thereof. Alcamenes considered this discourse as proceeding from the excellent disposition of Cleopatra, as on which a just resentment could not produce any effect contrary to her own generous inclinations.  
While he thus entertained her, filling her with admiration at his person and deportment, Julia treated Artaban with those insinuating caresses whereby she often engaged hearts less constant than that of the faithful Servant of Elisa: and whereas it ran into her imagination that she never had met with any thing more worthy her esteem, and was one that could not do herself the least violence as to matter of conversation she treated him in the most obliging manner in the world, and made no difficulty to tell him, that Elisa would be very much to blame to prefer any Tigranes whatsoever before such a person as he was. Those expressions coming from so great a Princess, wrought in him a submission equal to the confidence he took upon him when he had to do with those that slighted him, and he received the honour she did him with such an excellent grace, that she was more and more confirmed in the good opinion she had of him.  
Drusus was not a wanting in his attendance on Antonia, whom none pretended to but himself, though there were many that envied his good fortune: But being withal a person generally beloved and esteemed, all in a manner congratulated his satisfaction to find himself treated by the fair and discreet Antonia, as favourably as the severity of her virtue would permit. Ptolomey was very observant towards Marcia. Archelaus waited on the Princess Andromeda, nay, Tigranes, though with much violence to himself, had some discourse with Urania.  
The best part of the night was spent when they gave over dancing, whereupon this illustrious company separated to go to their several rests. They all went to their several Lodgings, out of the same design, yet did not all equally find that which they were so desirous of. Most of the Princes went along with the Emperor, to see him a-bed; and after they were all departed, and that there was only Agrippa, according to his ordinary custom, left with him Augustus looking attentively on him, and observing the visible change of his humour, his countenance and all his behaviour, could not conceal from him his thoughts of it. And in being ordinary with him to discover his heart to him upon all occasions, Agrippa said he to him, with a smile, and in a way drolling enough, have I not that place in your affection, as that you will acknowledge a truth if I myself have discovered it, since it is well known to you, that I have not had any thing so secret or of such importance as I was not willing to communicate to you? Agrippa, who imagined what he would be harping at, made no answer to his discourse, so that the Emperor confirmed in his opinion by that silence, I see (said he to him,) what your design is, you would have me much more a stranger to this then to all your other adventures, whence I am the more satisfied of what I was already in a Manner confident of: But think it not much to trust me upon this occasion, since I have made you privy to all the important emergencies of my life, and confess, if you love me, whether the Princess of the Parthians hath not deprived you of that indifference and freedom which had hitherto stood in defiance against all the Roman Beauties? Ah my Lord, (replied Agrippa, with a confusion he was not able to smother) what actions of mine have given you occasion to conceive any such opinion? 'Twas apparent (replied the Emperor) in all you have either done or said in my presence since your first sight of that Princess; in the account you gave me of her beauty and adventures; in the passion which made you so earnest in your discourse, when you desired my protection for her; in your officiousness to entertain her all this night, to the prejudice and dissatisfaction of other persons, to whom no doubt but you had resigned that employment, had you not been too much concerned in it: in the change I have observed in your countenance while you were speaking to her, in your amorously passionate look, in the gallantry and magnificence of your clothes beyond what you were wont to affect: To be short, in all the alteration might have been observed in you, even by persons no way concerned in your affairs.  
This discourse of the Emperor put Agrippa somewhat to a loss, as not being able without a certain confusion to reflect on the notice he had taken of his passion, and that at a time, when he had disburdened himself upon his shoulders of the Government of the Empire. But being confident withal that he could not but have an indulgence for a passion which he was so much subject to himself, and imagining he could not long conceal from him that which was so great a torment to him, he resolved to acknowledge it with the best countenance he could, and encouraged by the assurance he was in of his affection; My Lord, (said he to him) were the respect I have for you consistent with elusions and dissimulation, I should haply endeavour to conceal that which your discerning observation hath but too too easily discovered; nor is it without some confusion I am forced to avow, that, at a time wherein it was most requisite some assistance of Wisdom should have secured me against the Passion which you have by so many marks discovered, I have been o'ercome by it through too weak a resistance. 'Tis true, my Lord, since I must of necessity acknowledge it, I am in love, I am desperately in love with the Princess of the Parthians, and my heart hath submitted, contrary to my intention, to those powers which upon the first sight disarmed it of all its strength. I know this weakness were not excusable if it were voluntary, and that I should have made all the force I could to oppose the violence of a passion, no way consistent with reason. It would have been expected that the weight of the employments you honour me with, and my affairs of greater consequence should have diverted my thoughts from any such thing; and if I must be enslaved to Love, it should have been for any one rather than a Princess born of a House in hostility with the Roman name and Empire, a Princess, next to the Princess Julia, the greatest in the World, & a Princess that is Heir to a Monarchy, the attainment whereof a Roman, and a private person cannot with any likelihood of success, propose to himself: But, my Lord, I have been surprised, and have to no purpose had recourse to the assistance of my Reason in an affair wherein it cannot be allowed any power. It very much troubles me (says the Emperor to him) to find you defeated by that Passion in the manner you represent it to me; and that not only because it disturbs your quiet, dearer to me then my own, but that withal thwarts the design I had to bring you as near myself as I could, by the alliance of some person of no great distance in blood to me: But since the tenderness I have for you is equal to that I have for Marcellus or myself, and that all I either do or can do for you, is below what may be due to a person who by his extraordinary actions hath in some measure raised me to the great Fortune I now enjoy, I will, contrary to my inclinations, and without any regard to my interest, endeavour your enjoyment and satisfaction. Elisa is not the less amiable because she was born among our enemies, and I shall not oppose the union of our Empires, if it may be established by this alliance. Nay, on the contrary, you may well imagine I should be infinitely pleased, could I raise you to the Throne of those great Monarches, who have so long disputed superiority and Empire with Us: Nor should the Dignity of Elisa deter you, since that, considering the Rank you are of, that which you ought to be of upon the account of your Virtue, and the Friendship I have for you, there's nothing in the Universe above you. Be confident, Agrippa, your pretensions to Elisa are moderate and justifiable, since you might have pretended to Julia, and that she should never have been any man's but yours, had I not designed her for Marcellus, or that he were not living to enjoy her. Be not then discouraged at these difficulties, but confident there's nothing you may not overcome by your own great merit, with our assistance.  
Augustus' added to this, much other discourse, full of the greatest expressions that could be of a tender Friendship, and Agrippa who had harkened to them with such transports and resentments, as he was not able to express, would have cast himself at his feet, if the Emperor, who had long before forbidden him all such carriage, had not prevented it. Agrippa made his acknowledgements with the greatest demonstrations of gratitude, declaring withal, that rather than be thought unworthy the honour he designed him for, he resolved never to see Elisa again, and to endavour by an eternal absence, his own death or recovery. But Caesar, knowing he could not take any such resolution without doing too great a violence to himself, such as haply might have proved fatal to him, would by no means hear of that proposition, and thereupon telling him that he should be no less in his affection if he married Elisa, then if he were matched to Julia, he said his commands on him to join endeavours with him in order to the purchase of his own quiet, and to hope all things with his assistance. Agrippa submitting himself to the will of Caesar, and complying with his desires, My Lord, (said he to him) now is it that I am of all men the most unfortunate, in that the assistance of Caesar, from which I might promise myself all things, I can upon this occasion make no advantage of, as not being able to employ it against the fortune of a man for whose virtue I have so much respect. Did not the affection I have for Elisa overbalance it, I should never have been induced to cross his designs. The reflection I make on the merit of Artaban, and the advantage he hath over the inclinations of Elisa, discourages me more than all the pretensions of Tigranes. 'Tis a Rival, whose admirable endowments upon the first sight of him, forced my esteem and affection, and it is out of sincere respect which I have for him, that I have solemnly promised Elisa, not to dispute her affections against him otherwise then by Love and Services, without offering the least violence by any authority derived from Caesar. Thus am I disarmed of whatever I might hope of assistance, & having nothing but merit and services wherewith to oppose a man who by those ways hath already deserved all things, I may very well doubt the issue of a combat which I undertake against him with so much disadvantage.  
'Tis true, (replied the Emperor after he had continued silent a little while) take all mankind, it will be hard to pick out such a dangerous Rival as Artaban, or one more worthy the affections you would dispute against him; and I shall tell you withal, that out of the esteem I have conceived for his worth, I could wish it were any other man's fortune that we were to crush; but when Agrippa 's safety and satisfaction lies at the stake, all other considerations vanish. We will endeavour to find out some other ways to satisfy Artaban 's ambition, since we must oppose him in his Loves, and conditionally he will quit his pretensions to Elisa, I will pamper him with those Honours and Dignities which shall give his very desires a surfeit. It was imprudently done to engage yourself to refuse my assistances; and though you have promised not to receive them, you cannot hinder my design to afford them you. No, my Lord, (replies Agrippa) I cannot frustrate the effects of your goodness, the expressions I receive whereof are too precious and too glorious not to be acknowledged; but it is not in my power to make any advantage thereof, as resolved to keep the promise I have made Elisa, as well out of the respect I have for her, as the violence it is to my nature to take the advantage of my fortune against a man, who, for his virtue, is more worthy of it then myself. It speaks a more than ordinary generosity in you (replies the Emperor) but not overmuch reason: Go and take some rest if you can, and let me take that care for you which you will not for yourself.  
Upon these words he bid him good night, unwilling to hear what he would have said further against himself, on the behalf of his Rival. Agrippa withdrew, with a soul engaged in a tempest of different reflections, not knowing whether he should rejoice or not, at that kindness of the Emperors, who desirous, contrary to his intentions, to make him happy, would have in some sort engaged him to a breach of his word, and the generous resolution he had taken. Being in this uncertainty, he passed away the night with a certain reciprocality of hope and joy, which though his Virtue would not admit, yet could not his Love but entertain them with some delight. All the illustrious Persons that were then in Alexandria passed it also diversely, according to their several conditions; and Candace was one of the least satisfied, as having not seen her Caesario that night, as she had done the precedent, and foreseeing it would be much more difficult for him to wait on her during the time she intended to stay in Alexandria, than it had been before.  
The next day, as soon as the Emperor was to be seen, all the Princes and the most considerable persons were expecting his appearance. The King of the Medes was one of the first to wait on him, out of a design to have some discourse with him about his own concernments before the press would be too great: And the Emperor having entertained him with a seeming kindness, he in a long discourse acquainted him with what had all this while lain so heavy on his heart. He in the first place represented the great desires he had ever had to serve him, as he in duty ought, and the submission he had had for his commands, as well in the differences there had passed between him and the King of Armenia, as upon all other occasions that had offered themselves. Then he comes to complain of the injustice had been done him, by forcing and still detaining from him, against all right and all appearance of reason, a Princess, whom by his Ambassadors he had married, and that with the consent of her Father. To this he added the satisfaction he conceived, to find her in a place where he feared not any injustice, nor yet any prejudice on the behalf of his enemies, & so concluded with adesire that he would do him that justice which he never refused any, & order his Spouse to be delivered to him, as he would do for any, though ever so inconsiderable, upon the like occasion  
Augustus gave him the hearing with much patience, but, being now engaged to promote the passion of Agrippa, and that withal he thought it no justice to force the inclinations of a Princess of the equality and worth of Elisa, after he had given him leave to say all he would, Tigranes (said he to him) You have had some grounds to be assured that I should do you no injustice, and you shall find from me whatever you can with reason expect: I shall not give way that any should take away or detain from you the Princess of the Parthians, and I shall put her into your hands, as soon as she shall be willing to go along with you. To that end you are at liberty to dispose her thereto as soon as you shall think fit, and you will find no further obstacle if you but once get her consent: But you ought not to hope, and I imagine you do not, that to further your design I should do her any violence, both in regard the action in itself would be contrary to the equity which I shall punctually observe, and that Elisa is a person of that Rank as neither can nor indeed aught to give me that freedom. This is a thing you know as well as myself: And you may take notice further, that if Marcellus were in your condition, I should treat him no otherwise then I do you; and that were it my own Son, had the gods been pleased to have blessed me with any, I would not, to oblige him, offer any violence to such a Princess as that of the Parthians. 'Tis the least she can hope, to be at liberty in a place where she demands my protection: you have the same freedom, and if you can gain her consent; you shall meet with no other opposition.  
To this effect was the discourse of Augustus to him, as who knew well enough how contrary the inclinations of Elisa were to the affections of Tigranes; so that the afflicted King of Media growing pale at the hearing of those words, received them no otherwise then as the Sentence of Death, though he had in all likelihood already foreseen some part of his misfortune: Nor could he dissemble the affliction he conceived thereat; and looking on the Emperor, though with a certain respect, yet such as through which his resentments were easily discernible, What, my Lord, (said he to him) do you think it any violence to permit a Husband to take his Wife to him in your Territories; and what rank soever Elisa may be of, do you think it any force done her by putting her into his hands on whom her Father and all her Friends have bestowed her, with all the ceremonies and solemnities ordinary upon such occasions? Had she been born in any place within my jurisdiction (replies Augustus) or any Kingdom dependant on the Empire, I might have disposed of her according to your desires, but being the Daughter of a Monarch over whom we have no power or authority, and being such in her person as nothing is able to exempt even myself from the respect due to her from all men, you ought not to think it strange I should leave her to her own disposal, and be unwilling to do that for you, which certainly I should be loath to do for myself. 'Tis enough, my Lord, (replied the Median) and you cannot better assure me that you have resolved my ruin then by telling me that you leave my fortunes at the disposal and mercy of Elisa. The intentions she hath towards me I am very well acquainted with, and since she hath left me her lawful Husband, to wander up and down the world with Artaban, I doubt not but that for the same Artaban 's, sake she will shun me to the end of the world. But, my Lord, is it possible, that an Emperor so great and so just can so easily sacrifice the enjoyments and glory of a King, whose Life and Crown hath ever been at his disposal, to the satisfaction of a Soldier of Fortune, whom I have myself raised out of the dust to the honour he hath so unworthily abused: a Soldier, I say, whose most considerable actions have been done in the service of your enemies? That Soldier (replies Augustus) is not to be slighted by those who have any regard to Virtue, and there are few Kings in the world to be preferred before him, if it be referred to the judgement of the greatest men. What he hath done against you for the enemies of the Roman Empire, cannot prevail with me to abate aught of the esteem I have for him, and you are the person that of all men have least reason to think so meanly of him. But what ere he may be, it matters not, you may take this further from me, that it is not any way to promote his design, that I leave the Princess Elisa at the liberty of her choice; and that I shall not interpose between you as to what concerns her affections Prevail with her, if it be possible, by love and services, and use all imaginable industry to gain her, violence only excepted, which I absolutely forbid you in my Dominions, both against her and against Artaban, and which you cannot make use of without rendering me your enemy.  
The Median King, ready to burst with grief and exasperation at this discourse, was going to reply, haply with a violence which might have incensed him, when the Emperor perceives coming into the Room, Ariobarzanes King of Armenia, Prince Philadelph and King Archelaus, and as he was turning towards them to salute them, comes in King Alcamenes. Caesar leaving Tigranes, went to entertertain him, which he did with the civility he was wont to express towards him, telling him it was his design to give him a visit in his own Chamber, and that it troubled him he was prevented. Alcamenes received that civility of the Emperor with a submission accompanied by all the marks of a real Greatness of Soul, and after some discourse together, the Emperor having word brought him that the Empress was ready, and that all the Princesses were with her, went to her Lodgings, followed by all that noble company. She being one of the most ingenious and understanding of the Sex, and able to manage the Government of the Empire as well as the greatest men, the Emperor had more than ordinary compliances for her, and she received them with such an admirable design and artifice, that taking no notice of his Amorettoes both towards Terentia and other Ladies whom he had loved, she accordingly made it her main business to satiate his ambition which was the predominant passion in him, and flatter Augustus' humour in such manner as that she might continue her authority over him, and be in a condition to raise her Sons to the height of advancement. When this noble company entered her chamber, all the Princesses were there, and the Emperor having very submissively saluted them all, said to every one of them some word by the way, relating either to her Beauty or Adventures; and not long after perceiving that the King of the Scythians was fallen into discourse with the Empress, he comes up close to Elisa, and having an affection for Agrippa equal to that he had for Marcellus, he would not put off to another time the good office he intended to do him as to what regarded that Princess. Out of which design, beginning to speak very low to her, whereupon those that stood by, out of respect retiring to some further distance, as conceiving it was his desire that his discourse should not be heard: (Madam said he to her) the last thing I did, was to plead your right against the great pretensions of Tigranes; I have crushed the strongest of his hopes, by telling him that you were free and at your own disposal in our Territories, and I am confident I have this day lost one of my ancient friends for your sake.  
This discourse of Augustus could not but be very much to the satisfaction of the Princess, insomuch that desirous to express the resentment she had of his favours; My Lord, (said she to him) though I ought to have hoped all things from your Justice, I am now to acknowledge my obligations to be absolutely to your Goodness, nor can you make a greater demonstration thereof, then in your protection of a Princess, Daughter to an Enemy, against a Prince, who how unjust soever he may be, hath better deserved your favour and support than she hath. There is not any in the world, (replies the Emperor) can better deserve the respect and services of all men than yourself, and therefore I expect not the least acknowledgement from you of a thing I ought to have done, and which no doubt I should have done, though you had not been the most accomplished Princess in the Universe. Not (added he, after a short interval of silence) but that the resentment you express thereof raises in me a great satisfaction, and that it were my desire you should think yourself obliged to me, that I may with the greater confidence beg a favour of you, after I had done you a service. My Lord, (says the Princess to him, somewhat astonished at his discourse) you may lay what commands you please on those persons that are in a capacity to obey you; but I cannot imagine how a Princess, whom Fortune hath not left any thing but what she receives from your goodness, can do any thing in order to your service or satisfaction. 'tis in your power to do much (saith the Emperor to her) both as to what concerns my quiet and my happiness, since you can by your compassion preserve me a Friend that's dearer to me then my own life, and that one that dies for you. Wonder not, Madam, (continued he, observing in her countenance the disturbance which his discourse had raised in her thoughts) that I speak to you so soon with so much freedom: the inconvenience is very pressing when it strikes at no other place then my heart, which makes me the more impatient to tell you, that Agrippa, by making you a present of himself, hath presented you with one half of Caesar: Were the affection I have for him less than it is, or were he not my other self, I should never have had the confidence to speak to you for him, to the prejudice of the generous Artahan, for whom I have an esteem as great as his own Virtue. I cannot but acknowledge all things so great in him, that I think nothing above his deserts; but if, out of that transcendency of courage which he hath upon so many occasions expressed, he could comply with the fortune of my Friend, I should take such care of his own, as to put him into a condition above the envy of the greatest Kings. You see what I have said as to what concerns Artaban: And for Agrippa, I am to tell you, that deriving in some measure my Greatness from him, I shall be as glad to divide it with him; that Julia should be his, were she not designed for Marcellus, and that I shall raise him to that height of Greatness, that the Universe shall not afford a greater than himself.  
Here Augustus broke off, to see what effects his discourse produced in Elisa, as also to give her time to make him some answer; but she was so strangely at a loss, that she knew not how to express herself, and so continued mute and immovable, with her eyes fastened on the ground. The Emperor perceiving the disorder she was in, and conceiving he had made a fair step into the business, would not press her any further, nor stay for an answer from her, which upon those first disturbances of her apprehensions he could not hope would be very favourable. So that reassuming the discourse, I do not expect (continued he) you should at the present acquaint me with your intentions; but having here all the freedom and command you can desire, you may take your own time to resolve on what you shall think most convenient. Only let me entreat you, not to let Agrippa know any thing of the discourse hath passed between us, since that, out of the respect he bears you, he abhors the kindness I would do him; and I may confidently tell you, he would never enjoy any serenity of thoughts again, should he once come to know I had spoken to you on his behalf. Which having said, the Emperor left her, and coming to Candace, discoursed with her some time, that the less notice might be taken of any private conversation he had had with Elisa. Having done with Candace, he went to Arsinoe, and from Arsinoe to Olympia, whom he found excellent good company.  
In the mean time, Elisa, o repressed with grief, and not able, out of any consideration of the great persons then present, to smother it, no sooner perceived Candace disengaged, but wring her gently by the hand, and by her carriage discovering she had something to impart to her, prevailed with her to leave the Room, and to go into their own Lodgings. Whither assoon as they were come, Candace reading the distraction of her thoughts in her countenance, very hastily asked her the reason of it; and Elisa, who on the other side was as impatient to tell her, and to ask her advice in that emergency, acquainted her word for word with what the Emperor had said to her, and discovered so much grief with the delivery of her discourse, that it was not hard for Candace to imagine her almost at the lowest degree of affliction. It was indeed my perpetual distrust (added the fair Princess) that Fortune would not continue me long in the condition you saw me in these two last days; nay, from the first discovery of Agrippa 's affection, I fore saw the Tempest it was likely to raise against me. There could not any thing more dreadful have happened to me, since that, where I was in hope to find harbourage, I am most to fear a wrack. Assist me now with your advice fairest Queen, not in order to a deliberation whether I ought to comply with the desires of Augustus, (for as to that point I am resolved what to do, that is, not to be shaken with proffers far greater than any he hath made) but to instruct me how I ought to behave myself so as not to exasperate the Power whereto our Fortune hath submitted us, and to assure Artaban of what he may expect from me, without discovering the affection I have for him ●● all the world.  
Candace, who thought herself nearly concerned in all the traverses of Fortune her Friend was engaged in, was extremely troubled at this last, and after a small interval of silence; Fairest Princess, (said she to her) what's happened to day I do not at all admire; and all those who know what place Agrippa hath in the esteem and affection of Caesar, do not much doubt he will leave any thing undone wherein he may serve him. You must therefore oppose his authority with a mild resistance, and so elude his hopes as not to exasperate him, in expectation that either he may change his humour, or that Fortune may find out a way for us to get out of his power, without falling into that of Tigranes which by his protection you so much avoid. Mean time, I advise you, to acquaint Artaban truly how things stand and not to conceal from him any longer a thing he must know, & may haply find out some remedy for.  
Elisa, who approved Candace's discourse, was going to make her some reply, when Artaban comes into the Room. He had observed their departure from Livia's Lodgings, and was glad of that occasion to see his Princess, out of that press of company wherein she had perpetually been ever since the arrival of Augustus. He came in very confident upon the hopes he had conceived from Caesar's kind entertainment of him, and the public preferrence he had made of him before Tigranes, and it was with much ado that he had that command of his modesty as to forbear the discovery of his advantages before his Princess. But his self-satisfaction suffered a strange abatement, when he saw in her countenance the symptoms of an apparent grief, which raised a cruel inquisition in his thoughts, yet without once reflecting on what was the true cause thereof. He was still in suspense, when that Princess perceiving the trouble he was in, and having already taking up her resolution, endeavoured to remit something of her affliction, and desirous to moderate the ill news she had to tell him by the joy he would conceive at the disappointment of Tigranes; Artaban (said she to him) it is the pleasure of Heaven to order us a vicissitude of happinesses and misfortunes, that we may from the latter learn a moderation in our joy, and from the former derive a comfort in our afflictions; I hope we have not much to fear as to the persecutions of Tigranes; but there are at the same time others rising against us that are much more dreadful, whom I am to give you an account of, according as I am advised by the Queen, who is not only acquainted with all my thoughts and resolutions, but hath withal the goodness to concern herself in my Fortune.  
Whereupon she repeated to him all Augustus had said to her, as well as to what concerned Tigranes as Agrippa, and if it raised in him a transient joy to hear that he was secure, as to the pretensions of the King of Media, it gave him on the other side a mortal grief, to understand, that he had in the person of Agrippa the most powerful enemy he could have feared, a Rival whose interests the Emperor was already engaged to promote with no less earnestness then if they had been his own. In effect, he seemed struck at this news, as it had been a Thunderbolt, insomuch, that that great courage which nothing could shake, seemed to entertain this last assault of Fortune with less constancy than he had expressed in all the other accidents of his life. He was little troubled at those traverses of Fortune which Tigranes might engage him in, out of the assurance he had of her favourable inclinations; but the powerfulness of Agrippa was formidable to him, and raised in him the greatest fear that his Heroic soul was capable of. Yet was it not the authority of this new Rival that most afflicted him; and it being not difficulties and dangers that his heart could be daunted with, the misfortune was the more insupportable to him that should raise him a Rival, whose virtue he had conceived an esteem for, and to whom he thought himself obliged for the assistance he had received from him against Tigranes.  
The grief he was exposed to upon this cruel turn of his affairs, put him to such an astonishment and silence, as that the Princess, having thus broke through the first difficulty, acquainted him with what he little suspected before, the discourses had passed between her and Agrippa, and the discoveries he had made her of his affection. At last, fastening his eyes on the fair countenance of his Princess, Madam, (said he to her) the news you tell me is very cruel and insupportable, and among all the misfortunes I could expect from a malicious Destiny, I cannot imagine any so great as what I am threatened with in the love of Agrippa: 'Tis a Rival whose power is absolute in the Empire and the favour of Augustus; yet am I much more afraid of his virtue then his interest, nay, I could wish him more powerful so he were less virtuous. 'Tis to me the most dreadful unhappiness imaginable, to engage against a Rival, whom furnished with so many excellencies you cannot contemn, and whom for the greatness of his worth, and the assistance I have received from him, I shall find it no small difficulty to hate. In fine, Madam, fear looks at me on all sides, and certainly in this last act of my misfortune, I should fear every thing, were I not a little relieved by the confidence I have in your favour, and if I may be but allowed to hope till that fails me, I shall never think myself miserable. You do well, (replies the Princess) to build the greatest hopes you can on the affection I have for you, since you may assure yourself, that though Agrippa were much more considerable by his authority, and more esteemble for his virtue than he is acknowledged to be, neither the one nor the other shall work any thing on my heart to your prejudice. I may very well be able, upon your account, to oppose their pretensions whom Heaven hath not given any legal power over me, since I have presumed, for your sake, to oppose the will and disposal of my Father and my King, whom I had not submitted to but through violence. And who can assure us, Madam, (replies Artaban) that the same or a like violence will not be practised against us now, since you are exposed to the mercy of a man that hath an absolute power over the greatest part of the World, that governs the Empire with a great deal of Lenity, now that he is gotten into a peaceable undisputed possession thereof, but one that hath slighted no advantages, nor boggled at any thing where he met with resistance. You see after what manner he takes to heart the quiet & concernments of Agrippa, but you may withal perceive, how that, through the affection he expresses to his Favourite, his designs have a further reach, and that it is much less his business to make Agrippa happy in the enjoyment of Elisa, then to bring into subjection to the Roman Eagle the proud Empire of the Parthians, which hath so long stood out against his usurpation. I am of your opinion, as to that particular, (replies Elisa) and it is to consult with you about some remedy how it may be prevented, rather than to afflict you, that I have been the Author of such bad news to you. To think you can oppose Caesar's authority (replies Artaban) while you shall continue in his Court, or be within his Dominions, is an imagination raised upon very slight grounds; and if the tempest cease not of itself, it will be hard to avoid it otherwise then by an escape, to find some retreat out of the jurisdiction of the Roman Empire. I expected (says the Princess to him) to have been more secure here then in any other place, as conceiving there were not any other monarch upon earth besides Augustus, that durst protect me against the power of the King my Father: But this misfortune tells me that all my hopes are defeated, and did I but know where to find a refuge, or how to seek it with reputation, I should make as little stay here as I possibly could. But in that design I meet with difficulties which I cannot without horror think on; for, besides that it is much to be feared that the King of Lybia my Uncle, where I had proposed to myself a retreat, may be afraid to draw against him the Forces of Phraates, or indeed that he is too weak to stand out against him, if so be he hath that Friendship for me as to oppose him upon my account, I know not by what means, and in what condition I shall undertake that journey, nor to the conduct of what persons I should trust myself: For in fine, Artaban, imagine not it can be honourable for me, after what the world now knows of our inclinations, to wander up and down with you, and to give mine Enemy's occasion to report every where, That I eat my Father and my King, to run fortunes with a person whose pretensions and love to me he does not approve of. Be not astonished at this discourse (continued the Princess, observing in the countenance of Artaban the effect it wrought in him) it proceeds not from any indirect intention, or abatement of the affection I have for you; since that after the assurances I have already given you of it, you may well expect all those which I may, without injury or Virtue, afford you for the future. Nay, I shall for your sake go even beyond what you can lawfully desire of me; for I shall not only oppose the authority of Augustus, what effects soever his Friendship for Agrippa may produce, but also ever while I live defy all submission to that of Phraates, while his intentions shall be prejudicial to you. You ought not to press me any further, nor will, if you set any value on my reputation, but rest satisfied with the assurance I give you, that I will be yours, when I honourably may, whether it happen upon the change of the King my Father's resolutions, or that of my own condition; and that if I may not be yours, I will never be any other man's with my will.  
Artaban harkened to this discourse of Elisa with such a reluctancy of agitations, as might well raise in him different reflections on his affairs, and was going, though with the respect he ever observed towards her, to urge something against what he thought most insupportable in her resolution, as to what concerned him, when Candace, who withdrew from them during their discourse, though she used not that reservedness out of any jealousy they had of her, comes up to them, and showed them the King of Scythia, who with Drusus and the Kings of Cappadocia and Comagenes were coming into the Room. The two Princesses received with abundance of civility the visit of these illustrious persons; but Artaban, thinking nothing so burdensome as company in the affliction that possessed him, passed through the throng and departed, no body taking any notice of it. He took some few turns upon the Terrace, and going thence into a private Gallery, where for a while he found the solitude he was so much desirous of, he would needs walk there some time to comply with the cruel passion that tormented him. Being of a disposition extremely impatient of all injury and injustice, he could not reflect on that which he conceived Agrippa had done him, without a violent resentment: and his great courage never inspiring him but with those things that were greatest and most full of danger, his first apprehensions inclined him to those resolutions which a highly passionate Lover might take against a Rival: But fastening his thoughts at the same time on that virtue of Agrippa, for which he had conceived a great affection, and withal on the assistance he had received from him in an occasion wherein his life was in danger, he found to his no small affliction, that his resentment would not be suitable to his desires, and the greatness of the discourtesy done him.  
Having upon these reflections walked a while, in the posture of a man cruelly disturbed, O Fortune (said he) thou favourable Deity to my fame, but eternal disturber of my quiet, was there nothing remaining, whereby to trouble it with more success than formerly, but to raise against me a Rival, dreadful for his power, but much more dreadful for his virtue; a Rival to whom I am obliged, and whom, notwithstanding the injury he does me, I must esteem and cannot hate? Wert thou not satisfied with the miseries thou hadst brought upon me, through ingratitude and cruelty, but thou must arm desert and civilities against me to make my condition the more deplorable? Or couldst thou not raise against me those Rivals against whom I might have employed, without any regret or repugnance, that valour which enables me to dispute all things which the greatest upon earth? O Agrippa (added he presently after) why didst not thou suffer me to defend against Tigranes, my life and my pretensions, if thou wert resolved to engage me in a greater misfortune than that whereto thou sawest me exposed? Or why dost thou now consider, that the injury thou dost me is much beyond the service I have received for thee, and that, though at the present I am the object of men's contempt & Fortune's disgrace, yet I should be such an Enemy and Rival as were not to be slighted, if the esteem I have for thee suffered my resentments to act all their freedom and violence? But why (said he, recalling what he had said) may not any thing be feared from the just resentments of an exasperated Lover; & what obligation can out weigh the affront I receive from a man that would sacrifice my enjoyments & my life to his unjust pretensions? Ah Artaban! happy & unhappy according to the fantastic humours of Fortune, but still constant, still invincible in her most insupportable revolutions! Call to mind thy life past, let the reflection of thy former glory cherish thy present hopes, and despair not of assistance from that courage which never yet forsook thee.  
Thus did Artaban entertain himself, being so strangely retired into his melancholy thoughts, as not to perceive a great number of men that were come into the Gallery till they were within two paces of him. Agrippa was in the head of them, and with him, Prince Philadelph, King Polemon, Lentulus, Ovid, and divers others, whom Agrippa carried with him to dinner. The sight of Agrippa coming so unexpectedly upon him, forced Artaban to a change of countenance, which Agrippa perceiving, and finding him in that posture, suspected what the occasion might be, and was in a manner confident that he knew of his affection; but it being a thing for which he was prepared, and imagining that his passion could not long be, kept secret, he prosecutes his design according to the resolution he had taken, and coming up to Artaban with a countenance, wherein, notwithstanding their competition, was observable the true esteem he had for him, he asked him why he courted solitude where his company was so generally desired, and entreated him to come and dine with the Princes he carried along with him, and by his presence to make that company more illustrious. But Artaban was not in a condition to comply so far with him, though out of the esteem he still continued towards him, he entertained the invitation with much civility, and entreated his excuse, telling him he was obliged to be at the King of Scythia's whom he had already promised, though he thought he should not keep his engagement with him, as being partly resolved to retire to his own Lodgings. Agrippa thought himself obliged by his discourse to ask him the reason of the alteration he observed in him, and having taken him some paces aside from the company, he entreated him to acquaint him therewith, that he might serve him if it lay in his power: But the fierce Artaban, who had much ado to contain himself, I shall acquaint you (said he to him) with what you so much desire to know, when ever you shall afford me a more private audience; and though there be not any person here whom I any way suspect, yet are they not engaged in a design, as you are, to inquire into things wherein they are not any way concerned.  
Agrippa discovered in these words some part of Artaban's meaning; and though he were much troubled thereat, and prepared himself for the confusion which he could not but conceive at the complaints he expected to fall from him, yet saw he there was a necessity to break the Ice, and being as desirous it should be done than as at another time, he entreated Lentulus and Ovid to conduct King Polemon and Prince Philadelph to his Lodgings, where he would immediately wait on them himself; and having entreated those Princes to give him leave to take a turn or two with Artaban, he caused all the company to withdraw, some attendance only accepted, who according to their distance, kept at the other end of the Gallery. Artaban being thus left alone with him, and desirous above all things to keep within the limits of that moderation which he was willing to observe, after he had been silent a while; I doubt not (said he to him) but you very much wonder at my confidence, and that in a place where you have all power, you may think it somewhat extraordinary, that a miserable stranger, discarded by all manner of support, and at a loss of all assistance save that of his own courage, and which is more, a stranger that hath been obliged from the first minute he ever saw you, dares make his complaints to you, and charge you with injustice. This procedure will haply confirm you in the opinion some have conceived of that presumption which hath many times brought upon me the indignation of those Kings who owed either the recovery or settlement of their Crowns to my Sword: But since you are not free from nay, to my unhappiness, but too too susceptible of the passion that makes me speak, you will not haply wonder at my discourse, and will haply acknowledge, that no consideration either of your virtue, your quality, or the obligation you have cast upon me, aught to tie up my tongue at a time when it is your design to defeat me of a fortune I had purchased by so many hardships, a fortune I ought to dispute against all the world to the last gasp of my life. What, generous Agrippa! (continued he, looking on him with that noble fierceness which made such a distance between him and other men) can you in whom Virtue hath ever found protection and sanctuary, you, of whom I particularly expected it, when reduced to circumstances that well deserved it, can you be guilty of an inhumanity so great as that you would deprive me of a happiness which I was unwilling to owe any but yourself, though till then I had owed it to those servics and actions which have raised me to some reputation among men, a happiness, which I was not so confident of upon the account of my services, as the assistance I had promised myself from you? I was by the relief of your arms rescued out of the hands of my enemies, I seek my sanctuary in the arms you stretch out to me, and I recommend to you a fortune which you seemed willing to favour in a place where all is at your disposal; and yet it is from you that comes the ruin which I feared not from Tigranes, and you deliver me from a weak enemy, to engage with the most powerful could have risen against me. O that it were but the pleasure of the Gods that this misfortune had happened to me from any other then Agrippa! Or why hath not the malice of my fortune stired up against me a Rival, for whom I might have conceived a hatred and resentments proportionable to the injury he had done me? It were not by complaints that I should endeavour to assuage my grief, no, I would make him know, that he who endeavours the ruin of Artaban, must not think he engages himself upon a slight enterprise.  
This was the tenor of Artaban's discourse, which fell from him with a great earnestness and impetuosity, though he had endeavoured to be very moderate with Agrippa, whom he had a more than ordinary respect for. And on the other side, Agrippa, who could not hear him without betraying some disturbance, and feeling a certain remorse within him, giving way to his discourse with much meekness, as soon as he had made an end; Generous Artaban (said he) I make no question but you observe in my look some disorder, for having fallen into a misfortune which hath given you a seeming just cause of displeasure; but indeed it more deserves your pity, than the reproaches you have given me. I acknowledge Artaban, that I love the Princess of Parthia, I, nor can, nor will dissemble it; yet let me protest to you, that the love I bear her is not an effect of my will. I summoned my Reason to my help out of my respect to you, and the esteem I have of your Virtue begot in me a mortal affliction, to behold that which I cause in you, though more through my misfortune than inclination. Besides all this, I must tell you, and the Princess herself can witness it, that I adored her before I ever saw you, that I had no obligation to oppose my own passion for the interest of a person I knew not, that as soon as ever I saw you, I knew you to be my dangerous Rival, yet the knowledge thereof could not hinder me from giving you my esteem a●d affection. Herein perhaps I have been more just than you, but you will further acknowledge me to be so, when you understand, that in a Court where I might hope much from the Prince's affection, who declared himself on my behalf, I would not make any advantage thereof, but refused an assistance not despicable, which would have been very necessary for me, considering the advantages you have above me. Know, generous Artaban, I would not oppose Fortune to Virtue, but chose to undertake this combat with unequal arms, rather than to arm myself with the favour of Caesar against a person I acknowledge but too worthy of that for which I would contest with him. Judge now, Artaban, of my condition in this enterprise, who, to the many services you had done Elisa, to the many great merits of which you are Master, and to the affections of the Princess, who hath already declared that she favours you, can oppose nothing but an intention to serve her, and some proofs of my affection, which doubtless would find but ill entertainment, considering the constancy of hers for you. This is the only hostility I shall make use of to conquer Elisa's heart, and which in all likelihood will not prove very effectual. Having made you this protestation, hate me not, if you possibly can forbear, and be persuaded, that the condition I am in well considered, I am rather to be pitied than blamed. I should find some comfort in this promise (replied Artaban) if in the fortune of Agrippa I met with the person of Tigranes, and that I stood not more in fear of your Virtue than your Interest; but I have already told you that the former is more terrible to me than the latter, and that it is upon the excellency of your person you may dispute Elisa with me, rather than the authority you have in the Empire. Either you esteem me beyond what I deserve, (replies Agrippa) or are not satisfied of your own worth: But to do you the justice I think but your due. I am forced to avow, that of all men you may pretend to the greatest desert, and that it is much to my grief that I am sensible of the advantages you have over me. How ere it may be, if you can, instead of reproaching me, bewail my misfortune out of an assurance you shall never have just cause to complain of any effect of my will.  
Artaban would have made some reply to this discourse, had he not perceived coming in at the other end of the Gallery, Julia with several other Ladies, returning from the Empress' Lodgings to her own; and finding not himself in a condition to fall into any pleasant conversation with the Princess, to avoid meeting with her, he took a shorter leave of Agrippa than he thought to have done, and left him at liberty to wait on the Princes that were to dine with him.  
The End of the Second Book.   

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA; OR Loves Masterpiece. Part. XI.  
LIB. III.  
ARGUMENT.  
Augustus entertains the Princes and others, whom he brought with him, and found in Alexandria, with the Combats of Gladiators and savage Beasts. Among other Gladiators are brought into the Arena two persons, who, instead of fight, as was expected, fell to embraces; upon which, the more to divert the people, a Tiger is let out upon them, which having kil●ed they discovered themselves to be Princes born▪ and are set at liberty by Augustus. Being brought to Agrippa, they discover themselves to be Arminius and Inguiomer, the one Son, the other, Brother to Clearchus, Prince of the Cherusci. Inguiomer entertains Agrippa with the Loves and Adventures of Arminius, who in the fifteenth year of his age is sent to the Court of Segestes, Prince of the Ingriones, where he falls in Love with the fair Ismenia. Segestes, upon the advance of Tiberius 's Army, makes an Alliance with the Romans, unknown to Arminius, which occasions a War between the Cherusci and the Ingriones, wherein Segestes is taken Prisoner, but released by Arminius out of a respect to Ismenia, who is ungratefully by him designed for Marobodes Son to the Prince of the Suevi, who not long before had also made an Alliance with the Romans: But Arminius having notice from Ismenia how things past, intercepts Marobodes as he was going to marry her, defeats his party, and rescues the Princess: but ere he could get into his Country, is met with by the Romans, his party killed, he left for dead in the field, and the Princess carried away by them. Recovering afterwards, he thought no way more likely to find out where Ismenia was, then by taking Varus Prisoner, in which attempt he and Inguiomer were taken, and, upon the ignorance of their quality, sent, with other slaves to the Master of the Gladiators.  
THe Emperor, desirous to entertain the illustrious Company which then filled his Court with all the Shows and divertisements that were used in that Age, especially among the Romans, appointed for that day there should be Combats of Cladiators and savage Beasts, which was a recreation the people doted on above any, though it agreed not with their humours who could not bear with that kind of cruelty. One part of these Combats was performed by Men against Men, another by Beasts against Beasts, and sometimes Men were engaged with Beasts. True it is, that upon those occasions there came only Malefactors, formerly condemned to death, and those such as preferred the destiny of dying by the hands of their companions, nay, to be torn in pieces by Beasts, before that which they should have undergone in the punishments were, according to Justice, to be inflicted upon them. This consideration made these kinds of fights be thought the more innocent, insomuch, that, custom also contributing its part, people made no difficulty to be present thereat; and yet the best part of the Ladies, and no small number of the men forbore them as often as they could with civility do it: And certainly that day, divers of those that were about Augustus would have kept away, had it not been out of a fear to disoblige the Emperor, who had sent them particular invitations to that purpose. Several Ladies, both Roman and strangers accompanied the Empress thither, but most of the Princesses excused themselves and particularly the fair Cleopatra, the attractive Elisa, the Queen of Aethiopia, Arsinoe, Olympia, Antonia, and the Princess Julia, who not condemning publicly what was by custom and the Emperors command authorised, prevailed with him to leave them at liberty to pass away the Afternoon in other divertisements more suitable to their inclinations.  
King Ptolomey, Father to Queen Cleopatra, had built an Amphitheatre in Alexandria, taking his pattern from that of Rome; he dying, Queen Cleopatra and the unfortunate Anthony, during the abode they made in that proud City, had taken care for the absolute finishing and adorning of it, and passing over three several years in the height of delights they had not omitted aught that any way heightened their enjoyments, as endeavouring what lay in their power to raise a second Rome in Alexandria. It afforded at this time at lest whatever was requisite for the sights, order being given that wherever the Emperor went there should follow a certain number of Gladiators and savage beasts, and all things subservient to his pleasures, which was as punctually observed as what concerned things that were most necessary: and this was generally looked on as a punctilio of Roman magnificence. The Emperor, and the Empress, and that noble Assembly of both Sexes, whereof a great part attended them thither, though not without some violence to their dispositions took up the seats assigned them, after which all placed themselves with convenience enough. The entertainment began with the engagement of savage beasts, which made excellent good sport. There were Lions, Panthers, Tigers, Leopards, Bears, and other kinds of dreadful creatures, which they matched together with as much equality as they could, as Tigers against Leopards, Panthers against Bears, and Lions against a sort of Bulls that were more then ordinarily furious and bred up to that exercise. Hitherto the blood which was spilt occasioned no great horror: But not long after, they brought into the Arena, those unmerciful Gladiators. whose savage countenances and eyes full of blood did in a manner frighten the Spectators. Their heads were covered with a little Head piece according to the Greek mode, having to guard the left arm a large Buckler, and in the right a crooked Cimitar, the rest of their bodies was in a manner naked that they might fight with greater activity. The engagement of the two first that came upon the Stage, gave very much divertisement to those who were taken with that kind of sport, and the weaker being fallen, the Conqueror expected a second Adversary, who was soon brought him, and over whom after a very doubtful combat, he obtained a like Victory. Having not received any wounds, he would needs try his fortune once more, and she proved so kind to him, that with the same good success, he made a shift to dispatch the third. The insolence he conceived at these happy successes and the demonstration he had made of his valour, obliged those who were the overseers of the exercises, to bring against him a stouter Adversary than any of the former, telling him by way of encouragement, upon his running that new hazard, that if he overcame the fourth; he might hope, as a recompense of his extraordinary valour, that Caesar would set him at liberty.  
Having flattered him into that expectation, there comes up a man clad and armed as the former, but one of the Spectators took much more notice of then any of the rest; he was tall above the ordinary pitch, of a free make, of a very fair countenance, though it was easily observable he was much altered from his wont posture, his light-flaxen hair, being of great length, and naturally of a gentle curl, hung down over his shoulders, for his age, he c●uld not at most be above two and twenty; but besides the natural fierceness of his looks, there seemed to be in his eyes upon that occasion so much choler and indignation, as forced out of them all the mildness there might be in them upon any other, and made him appear more terrible than he ordinarily was. This young man, on whom the whole Assembly cast their eyes, but with sentiments much different from those they had for the others, discovering in his countenance the shame and indignation he felt within, instead of lifting up his eyes to the Spectators, fastened them on the ground, and instead of making forwards to his Adversary with any confidence, as they had done who had gone before him, he sat him down on the lowest stair of the Arena, and leaning his head on both his hands, he continued there some time in the posture of a man o'er burdened with sadness.  
The Gladiator insolent upon his three victories, and aspiring to the fourth, comes up to him in a proud manner, with eyes threatening nothing but blood, and several times challenged him to fight: But the exasperated young man seeming to be little moved at his solicitations, and hardly turning his eyes towards him, Go wretch, (said he to him) go seek thy death from other hands than mine, and force me not to dishonour my arms by so ignominious a victory. The barbarous wretch scornfully smiled at this discourse, attributing it to the cowardice of his Adversary; and perceiving that words could not move him, he gave him over the Head-piece such a hearty blow, as might well have awaked him, had he been sound asleep, and threatened to kill him, if he endeavoured not his own defence. The young man's courage needed not that provocation, so that his anger overpowering the shame he conceived at such a combat, he rose up in fury, and went towards that unworthy enemy in a posture that made him repent his confidence, and struck a mortal coldness to his heart. However, he stood upon his guard, a man resolute and well skilled in that exercise but his Adversary gave him but little occasion to make use of his knowledge; for perceiving that he held up his Buckler to ward off a blow which in all probability would have fallen upon his head, and that his side lay all open, he changed his resolution, and by a cruel backblow, turning his Sword to the disarmed side, he by a dreadful thrust ripped up his belly, upon which he immediately fell down weltering in his blood and bowels which came forth at that enormous wound. There was a general shout among the Spectators at so unexpected a chance, as being much troubled at an accident, that had reduced to so wretched a condition, a man, that in all appearance seemed to have the greater advantages of the two. He that was engaged against him next, met with a fortune not much unlike that of the former, losing at one single blow his sword with the arm that held it. A third received his death by a thrust through the body, and these three victories cost the terrible young man but so many blows. But it was not in his heart, nor yet in his countenance that the victory wrought its ordinary effects, making it visibly appear, that what heightened the insolence and hopes of his companions, filled him with grief, shame and confusion. He had stayed a little time in expectation of another Adversary, when accordingly there is one brought into the Arena, upon whose appearance Quintilius Varus, who knew him, and had sent both him and the other to the Overscers of the Gladiators, crying out aloud to the Emperor, told him that Combat would be very pleasant, for that the Gladiator last come in was little, if at all, inferior in point of valour to his companion. That discourse of Varus obliged those that were the more attentive to these sights, to take more particular notice of the last, and they found, that as to his person the other had not much the advantage of him, though he discovered less fierceness, and that there seemed to be a greater mildness both in his eyes and countenance. They were in many things much like one the other, especially in their faces, though it might be thought the latter was seven or eight years elder than his companion, The young man no sooner saw him appear, but lifting up his eyes to Heaven with an action full of grief and resentment, O ye Gods! (cried he) O malicious Fortune! is it possible you can reduce us to such deplorable extremities? With which words there broke forth at his eyes a rivulet of tears: Nor seemed there to be less grief and tenderness in him that was newly come in, who, after he had by certain words, proceeding from the height of passion, charged Heaven with the strangeness of their misfortune, both casting away their Swords and Bucklers upon the sand, mutually embraced each other, with so much affection, and accompanied their caresses with words so pressing, that the most hardhearted present were moved to compassion thereat. It was the general imagination of the spectators, that they should be deprived the pleasure they expected from the engagement of those two valiant Gladiators. And indeed the King of Scythia, Agrippa, Artaban, Ariobarzanes, Philadelph, Drusus, and divers other who were moved to compassion at what they had seen, were entreating the Emperor, that those two men whom they thought worthy a better fortune might be spared, when those who had the oversight of the Shows, out of a design to divert the company by another kind of engagement, let forth out of those places where they were kept for that purpose, a Tiger, one of the greatest and most furious that ever came out of Hyrcania. Those that concerned themselves in the misfortune of those two men, were extremely troubled at the sight of that dreadful creature; nay, Augustus himself, moved thereat as others, was not well pleased to see them exposed to that new danger: But he had not time to consider what course was fittest to be taken for their safety, and the approaches of that terrible enemy having interrupted the embraces of the two Gladiators, they both ran to their Swords, and presented themselves to the furious beast with a resolution that discovered they were not to be daunted by any kind of danger; but in that action they expressed no less the greatness of their Friendship then that of their Courage, either of them being desirous to put himself before his companion, so to expose himself to all the danger for the safety of his Friend. Let me alone (said the elder of the two that came last) suffer me, over-confident young man, to have some part in the actions of this day! Thou hast spilt blood enough already, and I would say thou hast gained glory enough, had the occasion been but honourable: Let me entreat thee by all our Friendship to keep back and hazard not in my sight a life I value much▪ beyond my own. The fierce young man would have made some reply, and their contestation would haply have lasted longer, if the pressing occasion had permitted it; but the Tiger was ready to fasten on the former, who put her off with his Buckler, and with his Sword had made agreat gap in her side. The fury of the cruel beast was augmented by the wound; but instead of being revenged on him that gave it, she turned towards his companion, who immediately cast himself before his Friends, and was so fortunate as to cut off one of its unmerciful claws, That done, the Victory proved so much the less difficult to the two valiant men; and after they had avoided the last attempts of the cruel Animal by two blows which they gave it both at the same time, they laid it along on the sand breathing its last.  
The enterprise being over, they ran one to another, with equal tenderness, to see if they were wounded, and having spent some little time in new embraces accompanied with tears, the younger of a sudden lifting up his head, which till then he had not so much as turned towards the Assembly, and addressing himself to the Emperor; Caesar (said he to him, with a gesture heightened by a noble fierceness) thou think●st it a great glory, to expose to thy Gladiators and thy savage Beasts, Princes who have not any way deserved such misfortune, and those such as are not inferior to thee either in birth or virtue! Consummate, consummate thy cruelty, and find out some death or other for those who are not desirous to live after the shame thou hast exposed them to. It may be our deaths were but requisite in order to thy safety and the quiet of the Romans, to whom this indignity makes us irreconcilable enemies: And if Fortune once restore me the fortune she hath deprived me of, I promise to the revenging Gods Rivers of Roman blood, to wash off the stain of that unworthy blood thou hast occasioned me to spill this day.  
These words, though proceeding from a strange confidence and threats, were so far from incensing the Emperor, that they wrought in him much compassion, and raised in him a certain remorse and confusion, so that the mediations of those Princes, who at the same time begged the liberty of those two persons, was more than necessary to obtain it. He with a gesture of his hand silenced the noise that was among the Spectators; whereupon addressing his discourse to the valiant young man who had spoken t● him; If thou art of such birth as thou pretendest, (said he to him) I condemn with much grief the treatment thou hast received, nay, if thou wert not, thou deservest for thy valour the Liberty which I now give you both. The Gods are my witnesses, and you also are convinced in your thoughts, that both your names and fortunes were unknown to me, and that I could not by any discovery discern you from ordinary Gladiators, among whom it sometimes happens that there are persons of great courage and handsomeness of body. This want of any account of you may well clear us from your reproaches; and though you were born among the most powerful of our enemies, yet shall it not hinder but you may freely and safely return to them, and put yourselves into a condition to execute the revenge you threaten us with.  
Thus ran the discourse of Augustus to them, upon which the elder of the two expressed by his action a certain acknowledgement of the favour he did them, but the younger was not at all moved thereat, and darting out of his eyes the same indignation that had been observable in them before, he went with his companion to a door that was opened for them, without speaking one word, or discovering the least motion of joy at the change of his condition. The Emperor calling to mind it was Varus had sent them to the Master of the Gladiators, sent for him, and having commanded him to reveal what he knew of their Names and Fortunes; My Lord, (replies Varus) all the account I can give you of them, is, that I am of opinion they were born in Germany, and that in the last War to which Tiberius hath put a period in those Provinces, wherein I had the command of a Legion, my forces being joined with those of the King of the Suevi, who was of our side, and encamped along the River Albis, they one night with incredible valour broke into my Tent, put to the sword most of those were about me, and had taken away my life had I not been relieved by a supply that came opportunely in, and defeated their Forces. All that accompanied them in that enterprise were killed but I was desirous they should be taken alive, and since, not able to learn any thing of their fortunes, nor prevail with them to take up Arms with us, though I had solicited them thereto by very advantageous proposals, I sent them, among divers other captives that fell to my share, up into Italy, where meeting with Rutil●us who was buying slaves to complete the number he was to provide of Gladiators, I gave him these two men, as such as I conceived fit for your diversion in that exercise, by reason of the extraordinary valour they had expressed when they were taken. You should have had other respects (says the Emperor to him) for so great valour, nay, you might have discovered those marks of grandeur in their persons which should have prevailed with you to put some difference between them and those that are designed for this exercise. You have by this action raised us enemies whom the Romans may feel heavy, if Fortune prove consonant to the greatness of their courage, and you know not what extremities you may be reduced to yourself, if it be one day your chance to engage against such valiant Adversaries. What Caesar then said to Varus, proved some years after but too true: So putting an end to the entertainment upon that adventure, he rose up, and returned to the Palace with the illustrious company that followed him.  
Mean time the two strangers, as they were going from the Amphitheatre, were stayed by certain Officers of Agrippa, who by their Master's order conducted them to his house, and having immediately caused them to put off the rags they had about them which hardly covered half their bodies, furnished them with clothes suitable to their quality, that they might accordingly make their appearance. The younger having not yet quieted the indignation he was in by reason of the shame he had undergone, and being otherwise tormented by a violent grief, could not for a time be persuaded to accept of that civility of Agrippa, as unwilling to receive any courtesy from the Romans, among whom he had been so unworthily treated: But the compliance he had for the representations of his companion, prevailed with him at last to abate of his resentment, and to entertain the assistances of Agrippa, whose virtue was celebrated in all Nations. In those garments the handsomeness of their persons was fully remarkable, so that all were satisfied as to the truth of what they had said of their quality.  
They were thus changed as to habit, when Agrippa, who would needs give them that leisure as unwilling to show himself to them while they carried about them the badges of their misfortune, enters their Chamber, and embraced and courted them with those demonstrations of tenderness and esteem, which the incensed young man could not but express a sense of, and return what might be due to a person of the rank and worth of Agrippa. I am so much ashamed (said he to them) at the treatment you have received among the Romans, that I cannot without confusion appear before you; but though it is not my design to justify their harsh proceedings, yet you'll pardon me if I say you have in some measure drawn your own misfortune upon you, by the resolution you had to conceal your births, and that there is not a man among the Romans who had paid a respect thereto, had you made the least discovery of it. I doubt not (replied the younger of the two) but Fortune would have dealt much otherwise with us if we had fallen into the hands of Agrippa, whose Virtue hath a veneration great as the extent of the Roman Empire: but there is a vast difference between Varus' soul and yours, and the acknowledgement we ought to make of your goodness should be as great as the resentment we have of the cruel injury we have received from him. I condemn the proceeding of Varus as much as you do, (replies Agrippa) and though your extraction was unknown to him, he should have had a respect for your valour, and those extraordinary marks whereby he might have distinguished you from the ordinary rate of men. However it be, we must endeavour what lies in our power to make you forget the affronts you have received, and I shall do my Country no slight service, if I can purchase it two such Friends as I conceive you to be. To that end, I shall do you all the good offices you shall desire of me as to what concerns your Fortunes, and besides the liberty which the Emperor hath given you, I offer you whatever is necessary for your return into your Country, in a condition suitable to your quality, or to continue among us, if we can prevail with you to do it, after the ill entertainment you had from us.  
In answer to which discourse of Agrippa, the elder addressing himself to him, Your goodness (saith he) is conformable to the reputation which is spread all over the world of your admirable virtue, and the proofs you give us of it, should be so prevalent with us as to force out of our minds all memory of the injuries have been done us. Nor indeed is it that resentment which hinders us from continuing with you, when your protection and your friendship must needs be advantageous to such Princes as have any need thereof: But there are very pressing considerations that force our attendance elsewhere, so that we cannot so far comply with your kindness as to accept of the assistances you proffer us to return into our Territories. You may be assured (replies the generous Agrippa) you shall not want any thing to carry on that design, and that you shall, when you please, be furnished with things requisite for your safe transportation: Only be pleased to repose yourself with us for the remainder of this day, and on the morrow pursue, as you shall think most convenient, the resolutions you shall have taken. Mean time, if it may be done without prejudice to you, I would gladly know your names, and be informed of your fortune, wherein the concernment I take may render such a desire excusable: Yet if there be any reason, best known to yourselves, to conceal them, I would not you should, out of any consideration; have that compliance for me; and I should be much troubled to press you to a thing were either prejudicial to you, or that you might take offence at.  
The two Strangers looked one upon the other at this discourse of Agrippa, as it were to consult together what answer they should make him: And after a little interval of silence, the younger directing his speech to him; Were we to speak (said he) to any other person than the great Agrippa, whose generosity is the greatest encouragement to confidence that may be, there were haply some reason we should conceal ourselves, as we have hitherto done, as being haply not so despicable where we have a command, but that Augustus might repent him he had given us our liberty, and therefore have much reason to detain us; but such a reservedness stands not with the obligation you have put upon us, and the assurance we have of your virtue. Upon which account, since you so much desire it, I shall make no difficulty to tell you, that my companion is called Inguiomer, a name haply not unknown to you for many actions whereby he hath acquired a noble fame; that he is Brother to Clearchus Sovereign Prince of the Cherusci, and that I am Son to that Prince, Nephew to Inguiomer, and my name Arminius.  
At these names of Inguiomer and Arminius, Agrippa looking on the two strangers with a certain astonishment; What (said he to them) the same Arminius and Inguiomer, the one Son, the other Brother to the Prince of the Cherusci: Ah! I am now absolutely satisfied you are such as I was in a manner by the appearances persuaded you were; and though Arminius hath known the world but few years, yet have we heard of his name, and glorious appearances in military actions, as well as of the valour of Inguiomer. No doubt but you have hitherto had much reason to conceal yourselves from the Romans, to whom the liberty of two such Enemies cannot but be very dangerous; but after Caesar's word once past, you need not fear any thing, nay, I dare give you my own, that though you were known to him, he would be so far from doing you any injury, that you would find from him all support and assistance, as your Brother the young Flavius hath who, as you know, was brought up among the Romans. I doubt not (replies Arminius) but that through the influence you have over Augustus 's disposition, we might hope all civility and good treatment from him: But you will be pleased not to take it amiss, if we avoid the occasions of being obliged to him, while the concernments of our Country and House tell us we cannot do it without dishonour; and that we are desirous to receive all things from yourself, to whom we shall never be enemies, though we may be to those of your party.  
Agrippa thought this answer of Arminius so full of generosity, that it heightened his esteem for him; and and looking o● him more attentively than before, This sentiment (said he to him) is suitable to what I had already observed of your virtue, and it will be highly to my satisfaction, that you make a distinction between me and those whom the interest of your Country may make your enemies. I shall answer this particular esteem as I am obliged to do, both in reason, and out of my own inclination: But in the mean time, you will give me leave to tell you, that with the knowledge of your names, I am very much desirous of that of your adventures, and that you ought in some measure to recompense the concernment I take therein, as not doubting but that it is upon some extraordinary account, and not by the common chance of War, that you fell into so great a misfortune as that of slavery; besides that I imagine to myself, I have observed in the countenance of Arminius, that his thoughts are taken up with something more violent than the love of Liberty; and it is particularities of that nature that I have abundance of curiosity, which I hope you grant pardonable in a person to whom you have promised your Friendship.  
Upon these words of Agrippa, Arminius fastened his eyes once more on the countenance of Inguiomer, who perceiving his intention; It is but just (said he to Agrippa) that we give you the satisfaction which you promise yourself from an account of the Adventures of Arminius, and my concernment therein; but in regard my thoughts are much more free from the passions which put his into some disorder, and that I am acquainted with the particulars of his life even to the least circumstances, nay, his most secret reflections, it shall be from my mouth that you shall, if it be your desire, be informed of those traverses of Fortune, whereto, even before he had overgrown his youth, he was exposed, and I shall entertain you with the discourse of it, when you shall be pleased to command it. Agrippa being then at leisure to hear that relation, and imagining it might be over before Suppertime, would not have it put off to another time: But Inguiomer conceiving that Arminius could not be present at that discourse, without feeling fresh affaults of grief, advised him to walk abroad, and Agrippa appointed some of the most eminent of his Officers to wait on him, and to show him the most remarkable places in Alexandria. Which done having sent word to the Gate, that he was in secret conference with the two Strangers, he takes Inguiomer along with him into a Closet, whereof locking the door, the Germane Prince, not expecting any further entreaty from Agrippa, began his discourse in this manner,  

The History of ARMINIUS  
THough the Country which is one day to come under the jurisdiction of Arminius, be not of an extent equal to some Monarchies of Europe, yet is it not on the other side so inconsiderable but that it may stand in competition with several others of more than common note, since it contains a very great part of Gernmany, and is inhabited by the most warlike people of all those Nations. Arminius may further presume, that there are few Princes in the world descended out of a greater series of Sovereigns then himself, whence it came that he stood so much upon his extraction before Augustus. I should say more of him, did not the same blood run in my veins, as if I thought his modesty would pardon my insisting on those advantages without any necessity. You know, that during the calamities of Cermany, whereof the greatest part, by a Fate common to them with so many other Nations, hath been reduced under the yoke of the Roman Empire, the Cherusci have ever maintained their LIberty with extraordinary constancy and valour; and if sometimes they have been forced to submit to the contrary Fortune, yet have they at some other by an invincible courage recovered themselves again, and have in fine defended their Rights so well, that they are at this day in a condition equal to what they were in before the Roman Power was known in Germany. It was in those Provinces that Arminius was born, among the Cherusci, where I also had my birth some seven years before, and twenty years after the Prince his Father and my elder Brother. Though I am really his Uncle, yet is not the difference between our ages so great, but that I may say we were in a manner brought up together; besides, that Arminius having out of a transcendency of courage, from his very infancy slighted those employments that are pardonable in such an age, grew by degrees more and more ambitious of the conversation of men, contracted solid Friendships, and performed those things which might well become a much more mature age. I shall say of him, since he is absent, that he was born with the greatest and noblest inclinations, and such a height of courage as nothing could ever abate. Nay, that which was most laid to his charge was a natural excess of fierceness, and before Love had moderated what seemed somewhat harsh in his disposition, he was generally looked on, as one rather hewn out for the Wars then designed for the enjoyments of a civil life. And indeed it was on the War that all his thoughts were bend, and amongst those things which he was taught as requisite and commendable in a Prince, he was much more desirous tobe well skilled in the exercises of the body, then in the Sciences, though it might be said he is not ignorant of the most necessary, and particularly what concerns the Languages, wherewith he is well furnished; but in fine, he was much less inclined to read, then to ride a Horse or be meddling with Arms, which gave all those that saw him occasion to conclude that his inclinations were wholly martial. He accordingly became Master in those things whereto his affection naturally lead him, insomuch that in the fifteenth year of his age it might have been said, there was not any man in Germany commanded a Horse with more grace and vigour than he, was more expert at the casting of a Dart, or better knew the use of all sort of Arms in all kinds of engagements. He was also desirous to harden his body by laboriousness, accustoming himself to the weight and inconveniences of Armour, passing away whole nights and days together on Horseback, and slighting those delicacies wherein a Prince of his Rank might have been brought up.  
But I shall say no more of him, as to that particular, and were he present, his modesty would have been much exercised to bear with this discourse. His Brother Flavius, younger than he by two years, had been sent to Rome a Hostage, for the performance of a Treaty made between us and the Romans, while yet a very child, and hath been bred up there ever since, so that, as it is reported, he hath shaken off all the inclinations he might have to his own Country, to embrace those of the Nation wherein he hath had his education. For my part since you expect I should give some account of myself in this discourse, I am to tell you, that having been brought up by the Prince my Brother and Sovereign, with as much tenderness as if I had been his own Son, and having in some measure answered his expectations from me as soon as I was arrived to an age fit to bear Arms, I went into those parts of Germany where the War was then hottest, as Pannonia and Dalmatia, where, in some engagements of no small consequence, I was so fortunate as to gain some repute in our Nation. The Cherusci had enjoyed a Peace of some years, when their Prince desirous of a fast correspondence with his Neighbour Princes, and to enter into a kind of association with them against that Power which had so long attempted our Liberty, made an Alliance with Segestes, the nearest of them, Sovereign Prince of the Ingriones and the Casuares, a People lying between the Rhine, the Adrana, and the mountains of Melibocus, a person of very great name and authority in Germany. Segestes is a man born with great endowments of abundance of courage, constancy to his resolutions, and much experience in military affairs, but of a violent nature and implacable when once incensed. There had been for many years together between him and Clearchus a very intimate Friendship, and they thought the surest way to make it indissoluble and eternal, and withal to unite their interests against the common enemy, was, to negotiate a match between young Arminius and Segestes' Daughter, of whom there were miracles reported all over Germany, though she were two years younger than Arminius. Having taken that resolution, with a design to execute it, when Arminius, who was thenbut fifteen years of age, were come to greater maturity, Clearchus and Segestes were jointly desirous he should be brought up for some years in Segestus' Court, the better to accommodate his inclinations to those of the Princess designed for him, and to work in those two young persons that consonancy of affection which the Fathers wished in them as an introduction to their future happy Marriage. Upon these terms was Arminius sent to Segestes' Court, with a retinue suitable to his quality; and being myself not long before returned from the wars of Dalmatia, and having contracted a Friendship with him, much different from that which ordinarily finds place in persons of his age, he desired my company along with him, which finding me as willing to grant him, he was extremely satisfied thereat. We were very nobly received by Segestes, magnificently lodged in his own Palace, and Arminius looked on as a Prince of great hopes, and designed to marry the Princess.  
But it is now time I give you some particulars of that excellent person, since she is the only cause of all the great Adventures of Arminius: And my only fear is I shall not be able to speak worthily enough of her, nor conformably to the passion of Arminius. Certain it is, that there is no beauty in all Germany that yields not the precedence to that of Ismenia, nay, that she may find a place among the most eminent in the Universe: But the excellencies of her soul are yet much more considerable than those of her body, and perhaps there never was Lady in whose disposition there was such a noble emulation of mildness, courage, serenity, and solid and sincere virtue. Her Mother, from whom she had her education, was a very virtuous Princess, and dead about a year before our coming to Segestes' Court. With all the instructions tending to the cultivation of that excellency of Wit and Understanding Nature had bestowed on her, she had entertained all the noble impressions which might be instilled into her by the best examples, and such inquisition into the Sciences as was consistent with her Sex: Never was there any guilty of a greater evenness and moderation, or exercised a greater justice both towards herself and others; and that expressed a more vivacity, prudence and freedom of behaviour; in a word, she was in all respects such, that the persons most hard to be humoured would not easily have found any thing which they could with reason condemn either in her sentiments or her carriage. She was so young when we came to her Father's Court, that all her excellent qualities had not had the time to break forth to her advantage, as they have done since; but she was already such as I was dazzled and astonished at; and young Arminius, whose apprehensions of things were much beyond his age, not only approved his Father's design, and thought the Princess such as he could wish her, that he might without any violence to himself comply with his Father's desires; but he found her so amiable & attractive in all things, that notwithstanding the tenderness of his years, he fell passionately in love with her upon his first coming thither. His heart being in all things open to me, he immediately acquainted me with his passion, such as he felt it in himself; and whereas there was all the reason in the world I should approve it, I gave him all the encouragement I could to prosecute it. Never haply was there an affection begun under a more happy Omen, nor with greater hopes. All things seemed to further it: Clearchus was extremely satisfied at the news of it, Segestes beheld the first overtures of it with abundance of joy, and Ismenia, who was the only person Arminius might fear, was so persuasible and so compliant to the disposal of her Father, that it was not much questioned but she would submit to what he so much approved and desired. On the other side, Arminius was such as to his person, that there was ground enoughto hope his inclinations would be suitable to his duty, and that she would without any aversion entertain a Lover designed her by her Father.  
Accordingly, things came to pass as was expected; but whereas this part of the story is not that which most requires your attention, I shall slightly pass over it to the relation of things of greater consequence, telling you only by the way, that Ismenia entertained the discoveries of Arminius' affection without any mark of repugnance, that she could not disapprove any thing in the passion of a Prince, who with her Father's consent was one day to be her Husband, and in consequence to this, the excellent qualities of Arminius both as to body and mind working that effect in her which it was hoped they should, she gave us ground to conclude, as much as could be expected from the tenderness of her age, that she would not be insensible of the passion she had raised in another, and for which she might entertain sentiments not only innocent, but such as were approved and desired by Segestes and his people. She entertained the first discourses which Arminius made to her upon that occasion with a prudence infinitely above what might be expected from her age, and only gave him to understand, that she had for the disposal of her Father a respect that should oblige her to submit thereto without repugnance: but it was with such a grace as more violently inflamed the heart of young Arminius; and his passion increasing upon the daily discoveries he made of the admirable and amiable qualities of the Princess, became at last so violent, that I was myself much astonished at it, and could hardly comprehend, that in the heart of a person so young so earnest a passion could find place, especially one attended by whatever occasion the greatest dis-enjoyments and disturbances.  
Certain it is, that while Arminius could content himself only with the compliance which he expected Ismenia should have for the will of her Father, he had all the reason in the world to be satisfied, by the readiness he found in the disposition of that discreet Princess, absolutely to conform herself to those things which she thought herself in duty obliged to do: But when he would have pressed her further, and trouble the serenity of her so●l by raising in it a passion suitable to his own, he found it a business of much difficulty, and such as engaged him in great inconveniences. The inclinations of Ismenia were in such a calm as it was not easy to raise any tempest in; and as she was willing to submit to reason, so did she as violently oppose what she thought exceeded it, or was at ever so little distance from a severe reservedness and modesty. So that while Arminius desired only to be well received, and and to derive from her words and actions an assurance that she had no aversion either for his person, or the design of Segestes, he was the happiest man in the world: but when he would engage her into a Love equal to what he felt himself, he found it a hard attempt, and it was a long time ere he could move that constant solid disposition out of its ordinary temper.  
I being the only person to whom he made all his complaints, was acquainted with all his disturbances, even to his most secret thoughts, and it was from me that he derived all comfort and encouragement, when I represented things so to him, as to persuade him, that what he attributed to Ismenia's severity and rigour proceeded only from her modesty, and that he should be very glad to find so much prudence and caution in the person he was to marry, But one day being engaged in some such discourse to him, not receiving it as I expected he should have done; Uncle (said he to me) it is not necessary Ismenia should do any thing to satisfy me as to her modesty and virtue, I do not in the least doubt of it, nor shall while I live; but I should very much desire to be assured she hath an affection for me, as being not so forward to marry Ismenia, as desirous to be loved by her, and to see her do that out of affection which she does out of duty and compliance. But do you not observe (said I to him) by her behaviour towards you, that she obeys without any repugnance, and consequently that that very desire of doing what she thinks her duty is the effect of some inclinations in her to endeavour your satisfaction, since they proceed from her with so much freedom. I must confess (replied Arminius) that I was at first as kindly received by Ismenia, as a man designed by her Father to be her Husband could expect to be from a discreet and modest Princess as she is: but is it not very strange, that during the space of a whole year that I have spent here, wherein she hath upon all occasions received the discoveries of a violent and respect full affection, I should now find myself in the same condition I was in the first day, when upon my arrival in this Court, I was brought to her by Segestes; that I could never yet by any action of hers satisfy myself that her heart was any way moved at the addresses of a Lover whom she sees languishing and consuming himself; and that she should abate nothing of her serenity and enjoyments, even while I am ready to die at her feet, and suffer for her sake what another would think absolutely insupportable? For in fine, imagine not that I now consider the interests of our Provinces, or the design of Clearchus to secure the future tranquillity thereof by a Marriage; I minded that while I acted only upon the account of duty and obedience, and during that time I was in the same posture Ismenia is in now, and had before ever I saw her the same sentiments which she now hath for me: But since that, by the sight of her and the observance I have made of her adorable endowments, my passion hath overmastered all other considerations, I desire not only to be entertained by her without any repugnance, but expect, if it be possible, to be loved by her, as preferring the conquest of her heart before the sovereignty of all Germany.  
These were the sentiment of young Arminius for the fair, and not much sensible Ismenia, and being one day alone with her (a freedom he was pemitted at any time) after a conversation whereby he was confirmed in the opinion he had that he was not happy to his desires; Is it possible (said he to her, with an action wholly passionate) that so many expressions of my affection, which you may easily have distinguished from the compliance I have for the will of Clearchus, should prevail nothing on a heart which by your own acknowledgement was not prepossessed any inclination opposite to my happiness; and shall I ever find you such as you expressed yourself upon my first addresses to you! What reason have you to complain, (replies the Princess, after a manner naturally cheerful, and much taking in her) and from what action of mine do you take occasion to charge me as you do, if I have not been hitherto wanting as to any thing you might rationally desire of me? You are indeed (replies Arminius with a sigh) very dutiful towards Segestes, but you have no affection for Arminius: and it is the love of Ismenia for Arminius that I am much more desirous to see, than the obedience of Ismenia towards Segestes. There is in that word Love (replied the Princess) somewhat that speaks more freedom than may stand with the modesty of our Sex, and there is in that passion something too irregular to be consistent with prudence: But if you may be satisfied with a more moderate affection, such as might be expected from a disposition somewhat regulated and directed by reason, I do not think you have any ground to complain, nor confound a voluntary obedience with a forced duty. Ah, fair Ismenia (replied the amorous Arminius) what a small distance is there between that moderate affection, wherewith you would recompense a Violent passion, and insensibility itself, nay, cruelty; and what injustice is it in you, to imagine that a Love, such as that I have for you, a Love that allows me not the least enjoyment of my life, can be satisfied with a simple acknowledgement of it, such as raises not the least disquiet in your soul? What, Arminius, (said Ismenia to him smiling) is it then your design to disturb my quiet, and you think it a great argument of the sincerity of your Love, to wish I may be deprived of that tranquillity wherein I place all the happiness of my life? No question (replied Arminius) but I should wish you were more sensible of the love I have for you, than you seem to be, as conceiving, that though your quiet were a little disturbed by such a sympathy, you would not be ever the more unfortunate, though you made me thereby the most fortunate man in the world.  
They often had discourses to this purpose, and contestations of this nature; but at last, after much suffering, after much sighing, the love of Arminius, the merit of his person, and the remonstrances of Segestes, overcame that calm of Ismenia's disposition, and made way for so much affection in her for Arminius, as he could desire from such a person as Ismenia. He had the satisfaction, not without excessive delight and transportation, to find himself sincerely loved, and to be assured it was no longer out of pure compliance, but out of the force of an earnest and solid affection that Ismenia consented to his happiness. She loved him tenderly, and being of a nature full of sincerity, and noble freedom, she made a real discovery of her sentiments to him, and absolutely satisfied him, that he had in the heart whereof he so much condemned the calmness and indifference, the place he was so much desirous of: But though she freely acknowledged what thoughts she had for him, yet did she still behave herself with so much prudence, circumspection, and reservedness, that from even the commands of Segestes, who was extremely pleased to see the Union of those two hearts, she took not the encouragement to grant Arminius even the lightest favours she might have done. He sometimes took it very heavily, but he found his comfort in the respect he had for her Virtue, and thought himself happy, both in the good success he already had, and what he was for the future in expectation of.  
Thus stood his affairs when I took my leave of him, having been called home by Clearchus to oppose the advance of some Roman Forces, who were come into the Territories of some of our Neighbour-Princes, and contrary to the Treaty which had been concluded several years before, made eruptions into our Frontiers. The Prince, who was then ●n some indisposition of body, was pleased I should command our Forces, and gave me order to march out against the enemy; and it was upon these occasions, if I may presume to say so so much of myself, that I gained some reputation, through the many advantages which Fortune & the gallantry of the men I commanded gave me. In a word, those of our Neighbours who had sided with the Romans, nay, the Romans themselves, were in many engagements defeated, and upon the banks of Visurgis I gained a Victory over the Forces commanded by Sulpitius, with the loss of his side of above ten thousand men killed upon the place, which success made the name of Inguiomer famous in Germany.  
'tis very true (says Agrippa, interrupting him) that your name was soon known among us, and that your reputation was spread among the Romans with an esteem such as ranked you among the greatest men of our age. I deserved not this great Elegy from the mouth of the great Agrippa, (replies Inguiomer very modestly) but certain it is, that in most of those engagements I fought with a suceess which raised me into the esteem of the Prince my Brother; his Subjects, and all our Neighbour-Princes, much beyond my desert: But that is not the thing I am to insist upon, there being in the adventures of Arminius what is far more worthy your attention; which is the reason I so slightly passed over what related to his birth, and the first sallies of his affection, as looking on the particulars thereof as inconsiderable, in comparison of what I have yet to relate to you.  
He lived happily in the enjoyment of Ismenia's company, there being nothing to disturb it but his impatience and desires of greater happinesses than those he enjoyed, and which were denied him upon no other account then that of his youth. It was his hope indeed they should not be delayed much longer, as being now arrived at the eighteenth year of his age: But than was it, Fortune thought fit to cross his designs by such traverses, & obstacles, as he could not have foreseen. The love of Glory, and that which he naturally had for his Country, had already wrought much upon his martial inclinations; and if the passion he had for Ismenia had not detained him, he would hardly have spent his time idly in Segeste's Court, when he heard of my successes against the common Enemy, and that I made my way for that Fame which he was no less in love with then with Ismenia. He was already engaged upon some thoughts of a return to Clearchus, as well to procure his mediation to Segestes for the accomplishment of his felicity, as to court, in the occasions of fight for the Liberty of his Country, that of signalizing his own Valour, when he meets with employment for it in in the place where he was, and that for the concernments of Segestes and Ismenia, which were indeed no other than his own. The Roman Forces that were in Germany meeting together from all parts into one body, took the field, in expectation of Tiberius, who was to come with a very powerful Army to give the last assault to the Liberty of Germany; and some part of those Forces, being under the command of Curius, entered the Territories of Segestes, surprised him so much, through his not foreseeing that Tempest, that upon the first thoughts of it, he was in very great extremities. However, he took order against them with sufficient diligence; and being a person of great courage, he quieted his people, & raised Forces with all the expedition he could.  
It was a certain satisfaction to Arminius to meet with that opportunity to exercise his Valour, which was much abated by the peace wherein he had spent his younger years; and Segestes having, as his first employment, given him the command of the whole Cavarly, he undertook it like a young Mars, and seeming in the War as it were in his proper Element, he within few days became remarkable for those actions, which, at an age that few persons have drawn a Sword in, got him the reputation of one of the most gallant men in the world. There happened no engagement wherein he did not things extraordinary, where he grew not famous either for the death of the most considerable of the Enemy, or by some other remarkable action, and wherein it was not generally acknowledged that his noble example was that which made his party victorious. One time with a party of Eight hundred Horse, he put to the rout a Legion commanded by Norbanus, leaving above Two thousand men upon the place. Another time, at the passing of a small River, having charged the Enemy upon their retreat, he pursued and cut in pieces a great part of the Rear, and got all the baggage, which he distributed among his Soldiers. Some days after, Curius having laid a siege before a place which he hoped within few days to reduce, as being but weakly fortified, Arminius fell upon him in the night in his Camp, killed above Three thousand men, and put so considerable a relief into the place, that Curius despairing the taking of it, and ashamed at the loss he had received, raised the siege two days after. Segestes looked on these beginnings with admiration, and Ismenia, who had a soul truly great and generous, understood them with a joy suitable to the affection she had for Arminius.  
By these actions did Arminius put Segestes into a capacity to maintain his Country with a power equal to that of his Enemies; and by those which followed he so strengthened his party, that at last, after many engagements of less importance, he came to a pitched battle against Curius, and gained it by the conduct and valour of Arminius, who commanded the right wing of his Army, and that day twice saved his life, and relieved him with his own hands out of the power of Curius. I give you the briefer account of the noble actions of Arminius, as not doubting but they are come to your knowledge, and so shall only add, that at last Segestes was free from, and victorious over his Enemies, when news came to him, that Tiberius was in Pannonia with an Army consisting of the best Legions, such a Power as whereto in probability all Germany was to submit. He understood that the Boij, the Vindelici, and the Curiones, upon the noise of his advance, had submitted to the yoke they had shaken off, and that his next Neighbours the Vangiones were already treating with the Romans, and were finding out a way to recede from the Alliance they had made with him; so that he was with some reason afraid that that Tempest would in all likelihood fall heavy upon him, and that he was too weak to oppose it. Though he were a person of much courage, yet was he startled at that news, especially when he was informed that the Vangiones had concluded their Treaty with the Romans, and that there was only the Mein that divided the places under their jurisdiction and those under his.  
While he was in this uncertainty as to what resolution he should take, those who had concluded the Agreement with the Vangiones, upon conditions honourable enough, made an overture of an accommodation with him, proposing, That if he would enter into an Alliance with the Romans, and join interests with them against those of his Neighbours who acknowledged not their Empire, he should not only continue quiet possessor of his own Country confined by the Rhine, the Adrana, the Mein, and the Mountains of Melibocus, but that he should have withal part of the Country of the Cattis, who were those of his Neighbours whom he was most jealous of. These propositions and divers others which the Romans made to him, meeting in him with dispositions consonant to their purposes, first put him into suspense, and afterwards prevailed with him so far, that he absolutely resolved to embrace their party. This negotiation was carried on foot with so much secrecy, that Arminius had not the least notice thereof: And whereas upon his return from the War he wholly minded his Love, and received from Ismenia demonstrations of kindness so much the greater, by how much the same of his noble actions had added to the affection of that excellent Princess, he seemed to consider no other interest than that of his Passion, which he made it his only business to improve, and enquired not after any thing, but what might contribute to his gaining more and more upon Ismenia's inclinations.  
On the other side, Segestes satisfied of the greatness of his courage, the love he had for his Country, and the aversion our House had ever had for the Roman Usurpation, had been afraid Arminius, if acquainted with his design, would have opposed it, given notice thereof to his Father, and laid such rubs in his way, as it would have been hard for him to avoid, and upon those considerations had very carefully concealed all from him, hoping that the love he had, for Ismenia would easily reduce him to his party; so that the business was so closely carried on, that all things were concluded and signed on the part of Segestes, before Arminius had the least jealousy of it: The man it seems, either daunted by the power, or drawn in by the proffers of his Enemies, clearly forgetting his old Friends and ancient Allies, and declaring himself either out of fear or interest, contrary to his Honour, and against the Liberty of his Country. This, though concluded, was yet kept secret for a time, out of a desire Segestes had, that Arminius should understand it from himself, rather than from commo● report: But feeling within him the griping reproaches of his ingratitude towards him, and towards the Prince his Father, and some other Princes whose Alliances he unworthily forsook, he resolved not to let him know it till such time as he could keep it no longer secret, nor hinder him from coming to the knowledge thereof. Then was it that he thought fit to acquaint him with that truth, and to that end taking him one day along with him a walking in the Gardens belonging to his Palace, he got him into one of the Walks, whence he ordered all others to retire, that he might entertain him with greater freedom. Seeing him therefore ready to give the attention he expected; Son, (said he to him, for he never called him ootherwise in those times) I doubt not but you would take it ill at my hands, that I have conconcealed from you the negotiation of a Treaty I have newly made, if I had not done it out of motives not disadvantageous to you, and had managed the business so, out of the knowledge I had of your great courage, which haply might have crossed a design, whereof you could not upon the first sight have discovered the importance, the interest, and the necessity. Certain it is, there can be no other ground or consideration on which you could have taken it amiss, that I have concealed from you what my Friends have negotiated for me with the Romans, and the Alliance I have made with them upon conditions too advantageous to be disallowed by a Prince that ought to be concerned in my interests.  
Upon which words perceiving that he harkened to him with a silence that was the effect rather of his astonishment than approbation, he acquainted him with all had passed between him and the Romans, excusing his change of party, partly upon the fear he was in of a power which he was not in a condition to oppose, and partly from the advantages he found in that Alliance, as well for the quiet it procured him, by ridding his hands of such powerful Enemies, as the dilation of his Territories by an addition of a great part of the Country of the Cattis.  
Arminius harkened to his discourse with greater patience than Segestes had expected from him, moderating, upon the remembrance of Ismenia, the indignation he felt himself transported with at the strange discovery of Segestes: But perceiving he had given over speaking, and expected his answer with some impatience, doing a certain violence to his just resentment, to keep within the respect he was desirous to observe towards the Father of Ismenia; My Lord (said he to him) I know not how I shall be able to express myself to you, as conceiving I out not aught of any consideration to violate the respect I owe you, and on the other side as not able to forbear a resentment of the misfortune you acquaint me with. What, my Lord, (added he, retreating back some few paces) when you return victorious over the Roman Armies, you would submit to their power, and receive the yoke for which all persons of courage have so much horror, when you were in a condition much more likely to secure yourself against it, than when you shook it off? 'Tis not the same thing (replied Segestes) to submit to the yoke, and to make an advantageous Peace, as I have done; nor shall I be a subject to the Romans, though I am their Ally. But, my Lord, (replies Arminius) can you be Ally to them, and at the same time in Alliance with my Father and so many other Princes your Neighbours, whose interests have ever run in the same channel with yours? I may be both (added Segestes) for I hope the Prince of the Cherusci will follow my example, to seek a Peace which he can never have by other ways, and I have undertaken he shall, upon the confidence I am of that he will submit, as I have done, to the reasons that have convinced me, out of a consideration of our Friendship, and upon the care you yourself will take upon you to bring us both to be of the same party. Ah, my Lord, (replied the young Prince with some precipitation) expect not from me a service it is not in my power to render you, without opposing my own sentiments, and betraying my Honour and my Country; and assure yourself, happen what will to me, I shall never be any one's slave but Ismenia ' s. The persuasions of Ismenia (replies Segestes) may prove more effectual to bring you into our party, than it can be expected mine should, and will haply convince you with greater success, that if you sincerely love her, you cannot think of any separation from her▪ Ismenia hath, no doubt, (replied Arminius) an absolute power over me, and there is not haply any thing so difficult as to limit the command she hath over my heart and resolutions; but Ismenia hath too great a love for Glory, to wish my dishonour, and I hope she will not lay any on me that shall be inconsistent with my reputation and my duty. No question (replied Segestes) but she will advise you not to be an enemy to her Father, and you will in all likelihood have so much affection for her as to think it no less a violence to your inclinations to forsake her, than to engage against our party.  
A Thunder-cap could not have struck Arminius into so much disorder as these words did, so that looking on Segestes with a countenance wherein might be observed a confusion of grief and indignation; What my Lord (said he to him) is it then inevitably necessary, that I must either quit Ismenia, or renounce the interests of my Father, my Country, and my Duty? And is the change of your politic inclinations come to extremities so insupportable to Arminius, who would have sacrificed his life in your service? I expect however from you (replied Segestes) that there may be a continuance of our Friendship; but you know yourself, that it were unhandsome for you to pretend to the Daughter of an Ally of the Romans, while you are an enemy to them. Your change (replied Arminius) shall not produce any in me; & though Ismenia were born of the most implacable enemy I had in the world, I shall inviolably persist in the affection I have for her, and the desire I have to be only hers, shall never leave me but with my life. You'll give me leave to be of another opinion, (replies Segestes) and to declare to you, since I needs must, that a man of a party contrary to mine shall never enjoy Ismenia. You may think of it at your leisure (continued he, perceiving his colour changed at those words) and I think I shall do you no discourtesy to leave you at liberty to consider what resolutions it will be most convenient for you to take.  
With those words he left him, but in such an astonishment and affliction as hardly allowed him the use of his reason. Some few moments before this cruel conference he had thought himself the happiest of men, and in the insinuations of the hopes he flattered himself withal, he would not have changed conditions with those of the most fortunate, when of a sudden he is reduced to a cruel necessity of either quitting all those dear hopes, or preserving them by a baseness whereof the very thought was insupportable to him. What (said he, walking still leisurely in the place where Segestes had left him) What, must I either lose Ismenia, or forfeit an Honour no less dear to me than Ismenia! Am I awake, or do I dream, and is it possible that I have really heard those cruel words from the mouth of Segestes? No doubt (added he) but I heard them, and that without any illusion, and the cruel man, after he had uttered them, had left me to the mercy of despair. O Ismenia! O my dearest hopes, must I now lose you! O my Father, O my Country, O my Glory! must I renounce you to preserve Ismenia? Indigestible necessity of my fortune! to what an inhuman choice have you reduced me? O my Love! to what a hard trial would you put my feeble Virtue? O my Virtue! what tyranny would you exercise on my Love? Shall the affection of a young Lover, inflamed to the greatest height, submit to the Laws of a cruel Duty? or shall the virtue of a Prince nobly born be overpowered by the force of a passion, which cannot excuse an unworthy act?  
During this agitation, through which, how uncertain soever he might be what resolution to take, he saw his misfortune unavoidable; he still walked to and fro, and had passed away several hours alone in that melancholy posture, if at a place where two walks crossed one the other, he had not unexpectedly met with Ismenia. The sight of her was so dear to him, and which he preferred before all the enjoyments of his life, was now his affliction, and aggravated the grief he before felt heavy enough upon him, since it raised in him a disturbance which he had never made trial of before. He had hardly lifted up his eyes on Ismenia but immediately looking off her upon the ground, he continued in that posture till Ismenia had saluted him, called him and spoke to him, before he could so much as think to return her the civility he owed her. Ismenia, who knew him not to be wanting in those ceremonies, unless his thoughts were in some more than ordinary disturbance, and read in his countenance all the marks of a mortal grief, was infinitely troubled thereat, and out of the sincere affection she had for him, felt some part of the affliction which he suffered. Her conversation towards him, was, by the consent of Segestes, with the greatest freedom that modesty would permit; and having then about her only some of her women, who out of respect kept at a considerable distance, she went to Arminius, and taking him by the arm as it were to lead him. What ails Arminius (saith she to him) and what accident hath happened that you seem to me much different from what you are went to be? I have, Madam, says Arminius to her, I have received a mortal wound in my heart, and if through your goodness I have hitherto thought myself but too happy, you now see me the most unfortunate, and most lost man in the world.  
These words troubled Ismenia extremely, and out of the violent and sincere affection she had for Arminius, she could not but sympathise with him in his grief, and ask him the reason of it with no small disturbance. The Prince continued a certain time ere he was able to put himself into a posture to give her satisfaction; but having at last in order to obey her, recovered himself out of that distraction of thought which obstructed the freedom of his speech; My unhappiness, Madam (said he to her) is yet much greater than it may seem to you either by my countenance or discourse, and that you may the sooner comprehend it, I am to tell you, that I must either renounce my Honour, or lose Ismenia, and that in both extremities I meet with such insupportable difficulties, that I should prefer death before the choice I could make. Whereupon though with much violence to himself, he acquainted her with his misfortune, and give her an account word for word of the conference he had with Segestes; but he did it with so many marks of grief, and found her so much inclined to bear her share thereof, that a great part of what he felt passed into the soul of the fair Ismenia, and broke forth thence into her countenance, where it was in a manner as observable as in that of Arminius himself.  
It was to him a gentle abatement of his affliction, to perceive that she was moved to so much compassion thereat; and seeing her silent, out of the greatness of her astonishment, Pardon me, Madam, (said he to her, continuing his discourse) that I dare stand in suspense between the love I have for you, and that I have for glory; no doubt but I should value Honour less, if I thought a person without Honour were not unworthy to serve you, and were not but too well satisfied, that I cannot slight Glory without being myself slighted by Ismenia. I shall not only tell you, that a slave of the Romans deserves not to be yours, nor is it the aversion I have for that yoke whence proceeds my greatest unhappiness: But being confident that my Father will run the hazard to lose all his Dominions, with his life into the bargain, rather than submit thereto; I cannot embrace it with Segestes, without proving false to a Father, and renouncing a Duty wherein my Honour is inseparably concerned. 'Tis therefore this Honour that I must part with, or quit those dear hopes of being happy in the enjoyment of Ismenia. See, my fairest Princess, what a misfortune I am involved in between these two cruel extremities, and command me to do what I ought, by all the power you have over my heart: For, in fine, though Love and Honour may be at difference in my apprehensions, yet do I feel a certain suggestion that tells me, the obedience I owe you will decide it, and settle all my irresolutions.  
To this effect was the discourse of Arminius, delivered by him with such a grace as rendered him more amiable than ever in the eyes of the generous Ismenia. And when he had given over speaking, the fair Princess looking on him with an action infinitely obliging; Arminius (said she to him) I equally participate with you, as well in your grief as your generous sentiments, and I am not more troubled at our common misfortune, than I am satisfied as to the justice of your suspense. Love Honour, Arminius, no less than you do Ismenia, and assure yourself, that it is only Honour that Ismenia can love as much as she does you. I have for you an affection which I dare acknowledge before all the world, since it is countenanced by the consent of my Father, nay, it is such, as I should haply be as much troubled at your loss, as you might be at mine: But in regard I set an equal value on your Person and your Honour, fear not, I shall, upon any account of the power you have given me over you, determine aught against either. As Daughter to Segestes, I cannot advise you to engage yourself in a party contrary to his; as sensible, as I ought to be, of of your affection, I cannot out of any consideration desire you should leave me; and as having a great tenderness for your glory, I cannot condemn in you what you shall do for the preservation of it. Whether you will be guided by the inspirations of your Love, or those of your Virtue, be it your consideration; but be withal assured, that what side soever you take, the affections of Ismenia are inviolably yours.  
Arminius was in a manner transported at this generous discourse of Ismenia, and when he had heard the conclusion of it, and found it so obliging and so consonant to his own desires; Ah Madam, (cried he) how shall I be able to acknowledge the obligations I receive from this excessive goodness in you, whereby you raise my crushed hopes: And what fear, or what interest can move me, if nothing can deprive me of my Princess? What I have said (replies Ismenia) relates only to my affections, and not to my person; this is in the power of a Father, who may dispose of it as he thinks fit; but he hath not the same right over my affections: and having commanded me to bestow them on you, it were in vain for him by a second Command to order me to dispose of them to any other. Be therefore confident, that no consideration of merit, service, interest, no, not of any command my Father may lay upon me, shall ever engage me to love any other then Arminius: But imagine not I shall bestow myself on you against his consent, and think not I forget my own Duty, while I advise you to do yours. Ah! Madam, replies the afflicted Prince) how truly great and generous is what you say; but how different is it, as to me, from what I thought I had understood I Yet is it so rational) replied Ismenia) that I am confident you approve it, and by the repugnance you find in yourself to quit the party of your Father and renounce your Duty, you but too well know, at least to condemn it, what I am obliged to in relation to my Father and my Duty. 'Tis very true, Madam, (says Arminius to her) that I have discovered to you the aversion I have for unworthy actions; but I think I have withal declared to you, that my resolutions depend on your commands, and I should not be in any suspense whether I ought to obey, had I the knowledge of them. You cannot therefore with any justice allege that unhappy example to destroy all my hopes; and how great soever may be the love I have for Liberty, Country, my Father, and my Glory, all shall comply with the affection I have for you, and there●s nothing I shall not renounce to preserve it inviolably yours while I live. It will be better (replied the prudent Ismenia) that we ●oth do what we are in duty obliged to, and continue our affection, but unchargeable even with that reproach which we may make to ourselves. Fortune will not haply be so malicious against us as we imagine she may; and the inclination of Segestes, which hath already suffered so sudden and unexpected a change to thwart our designs, may suffer a second to further them: But if that happen not, it is not impossible but that the same considerations which have prevailed with my Father, may also with yours, and that he will of himself be inclined to hearken to an Alliance with the Romans, if they offer it him upon advantageous and honourable terms. If things come so to pass, you may without reproach suffer the love you have for Liberty and for your Country to give way to that you have for me; and I should have just cause to be dissatisfied with your proceedings, if out of pure obstinacy would continue in a party contrary to that which your Father had embraced: But if that happen not, far be it from me to desire, or approve in you an engagement in our interests against those of your Father and your Honour, which I am no less tender of then yourself. I know my Father would never consent to your Alliance, while yours should disapprove it and were not his Friend; and I have already told you, that all I can do in this unfortunate posture of my affairs, would be to continue my affection inviolably yours, without suffering a change for any other whatsoever, but that I cannot dispose of my person without the consent of Segestes.  
Arminius found so much prudence & virtue in this discourse of Ismenia, that could he not condemn her; & that fair Princess exercised the power she had over him with so much discretion, that he could not but approve the design she had to keep within the limits of her Duty, while she left him at liberty on the other side to do his, promising him withal, that she would oppose the intentions of Segestes, if they were prejudicial to him, as far as she could with respect and honour do it, and that she would never entertain into her heart any other affection than what she had conceived for him. Upon this, they jointly resolved that Arminius should with the first opportunity acquaint his Father with all had passed, and do all that lay in his power to work a change of intentions in Segestes. Accordingly, that very day he dispatched away a person to the Prince of the Cherusci, with a Letter, wherein he gave him an account of all the Transactions at the Court of Segestes, together with his own unfortunate concernment therein, in such terms as whence he might easily discover how much he was troubled thereat. Clearchus with no small astonishment received the news of Segestes' defection, and expressed such a grief at it, as was soon spread among his people, and communicated to all his Friends. I was newly returned to the Court from the expedition I mentioned to you, and had participated with him in the joy he had conceived, upon the report of the noble actions of young Arminius: nay, he was just upon a resolution to send me with some Forces the relief of Segestes, had he not been diverted by Segestes himself, who had sent him an account of the advantages he had over his enemies, and the total defeat of Curius and the Forces, under him. Clearchus made his complaints both to Gods and Men upon this treachery of his Ally, and discovered to all that saw him, the regret he conceived to have the enmity with a man for whose Alliance and Friendship he had more than ordinary respects: But he openly declared, that no man's example should make him forget what he ought, upon the account of his Country and his Honour, to do, and was no less desirous than Segestes himself, to break off the Marriage of Armenius and Imenia, if Segestes persisted in his resolution, resolved to endeavour Segestes' reducement to some reason, to bring him again into the party he forsook; and conceiving that my negotiation of such an affair might prove more effectual than that of the Ambassadors he might have sent thither, as well in regard of my quality, as the Friendship Segestes expressed towards me during my residence in his Court, he desired me to undertake that journey, and to endeavour all that lay in my power to persuade him to a more honourable chance then the former, and if after all ways tried I could not prevail with him, openly to break the Alliance had been between them, and to bring home Prince Arminius among the Cherusci. I received also as a particular instruction from Clearchus, that I was principally employed in that business upon the better consideration, it being his fear, that other persons for whom Arminius had not the Friendship he had for me, would have found much difficulty to get him from Ismenia.  
Mean time, Arminius, after that cruel discovery of Segestes, had lived in his Court after a manner much different from what he was wont, though he still had the same freedom to see Ismenia, and that the deportment of that Princess was the same it ever had been towards him; and Segestes thinking it to little purpose any longer to conceal the Treaty he had concluded with the Romans, he had informed himself thereof even to the least circumstances, and found in it so much occasion of grief and resentment, that it had been impossible for him to dissemble it to Segestes, or express towards him the respects and affection which he had for him before that cruel change. Segestes, who had taken notice of it, was the more exasperated thereat, and had in a manner forgotten all the noble actions he had done in his service, all the sentiments of tenderness he had had for him, had all the considerations upon which he had been so desirous of his Alliance. Yet could he not look on him without feeling a reproach which gave him no small confusion, and discovering by his deportment, that he was conceived of the injustice and unworthiness of his procedure. However, he would needs fasten on him one day as he came out of Ismenia's Chamber, at whose feet he sought all the comfort he was capable of, and speaking to him with a certain tain coldness and austerity in his carriage; Well Arminius (said he to him) have you considered what resolutions you should take upon the discovery I made you of mine, and are you satisfied as to the choice you should make? My Lord, (replied he) I expect Orders from my Father, that I may take such courses as shall be suitable thereto; yet I think I may tell you before they come; that I shall engage in no other party then what my Duty shall direct me to. I had imagined (replied Segestes) that the love of Ismenia would have been as prevalent with you, as the Orders you so much expect: But since I was so much mistaken as to that opinion, I concieve myself as free, in what concerns the disposal of my Daughter, as you are in the choice of party. You'll pardon me, if I tell you (replied Arminius) that that Liberty is not equal, and that I never engaged my word to quit my Father's party, and submit to the Romans, as you have to bestow Ismenia on me. When I promised you Ismenia (replies Segestes) I thought, and indeed could think no otherwise, then that you preferred the enjoyment of her, and my Friendship, before all things; but since other considerations are more prevalent with you, it should not be strange to you, that I prefer before those who respect me so little, such persons as shall implicitly engage on my party. 'Tis indeed in your power (says the Prince, ready to burst with grief and resentment) 'tis in your power to dispose of the Princess Ismenia, and so I confess it is in your power to dispose of my life and fortunes; but in bestowing Ismenia, you withal dispose of the life of Arminius & while Arminius shall live, there is no man shall be secure and possess Ismenia. You have not lived so long (replies Segestes, with a scornful and malicious smile) that life should be so burdensome to you, and so I hope you will be careful of it, since it is yours, not mine; and that I shall be at liberty to dispose of Ismenia, because she is mine, as being apt to think she never will be yours.  
With those words he left him, and that just upon the point that he felt his respect give way to his just resentment, and was afraid he should not have had that command of himself, as to suppress the agitations into which he was ready to breakforth. Segestes little regarding the grief wherein he left him, goes into Ismenia's Chamber, and exasperated by the last conference, and more absolutely resolved then ever he had be to consummate Arminius' misfortune, he discovered his intentions to Ismenia, and commanded her to disengage her heart of the affections she had for Arminius, and to prepare it to receive another impression, such as the interest of his affairs should oblige him to give it, if within some few days Arminius and Clearchus did not declare for the party he had embraced.  
The Princess was as it were Planet-strucken at this Order of Segestes, and knew not what to answer, in an occasion wherein she could not make any consonant to her sentiments, and observe her ordinary respect and the duty she owed her Father: but pressed by him to some reply, and to declare whether she were not without any repugnance resolved to him, smothering her grief to find out words suitable to her inclinations, and not able to stifle her great courage in the cruel injustice and violence was done her; I shall, my Lord, (said she to him) I shall obey you, as satisfied there is not any thing can exempt me from the obedience I owe you; but it will be through the exactness of my submission to your former Orders, that I shall find it the greater difficulty to execute the latter, since that when you commanded me to love Arminius, I received that affection into my heart, as that only which should ever find entertainment there while I live, and such as not easily be gotten out, or ever give place to any second. The duty which obliged you to love Arminius when I desired it, (replies Segestes) will have the same power to make you forget it now that my design is changed, and will persuade you to entertain another Prince, as you did him, when I shall present him to you with the same intention. I shall ever receive (replied the Princess) with the respect I ought, whatever you shall think fit to recommend to me, and I shall quit all desires, nay all hopes, to be married to Armenius, since you are resolved to dispose otherwise of me, and I shall forbear seeing him, if it be your will; but after I have engaged my heart to him in an affection conceived upon your inspiration, which I had not entertained but to obey you, and which he hath highly deserved, both by the excellencies of his person, and the services he hath done you, you cannot think it strange, my Lord, it should be hard for me to force him thence, and impossible to admit another into his place. I think it strange (replies Segestes very angrily) you should oppose my will, and expect to find in you such a compliance for my commands, as that you may without any repugnance be ready to execute them, when I shall further acquaint▪ you with my intentions. With those words he quitted the room, and left her in such a grief and distraction of thoughts, as out of which she was not all that day able to recover herself.  
Thus stood things in Segestes' Court at my arrival there. My journey thither being undertaken with a great deal of precipitation, and without any observance of ordinay ceremonies, Segestes could not have had any notice of it, and accordingly was very much surprised at my coming. However, having formerly had no mean esteem for me, and that it was not safe for him to exasperate such Neighbours as we were, he gave me a seeming kind reception, though not without some violence to himself and visible discoveries of the confusion he was in. The first day I gave him no account of my Commission, as being glad beforehand to consult with Arminius; and instead of repairing to the Lodgings appointed for me, I went to those of Arminius, to treat with him with greater freedom. It were hard for me to make you sensible of the joy he expressed at my arrival, as well out of the Friendship he had for me even from his infancy, as the hope he conceived, either of assistance or comfort in his misfortunes, at the sight of a person in whom he reposed a more than ordinary confidence. Though he were a Son to my Elder Brother and my Sovereign, and hoped to be so himself after the death of Clearchus; yet did he always treat me suitably to the consideration of Blood and Friendship, rather than with any observance of the punctilios of policy; it being upon his solicitations that Clearchus, of himself ready enough to oblige me, had, out of a generosity not common in the world, invested me with the Sovereignty of the Mese, a part of his Dominions extending from one of the extremities of the Forest of Hercules down to the River Albis. Embracing me therefore with all the marks of a most violent affection, Uncle (said he to him) I now think myself no longer unhappy, since you come to my relief; and I no longer fear the malice of Fortune nor the injustice of Segestes, now that Inguiomer is come to assist me, and that Ismenia hath not yet forsaken me.  
In consequence of which discourse, much other of the same nature, and what I returned thereto, wherein might be observed a no●less earnest affection, he gave me a particular account of what I had understood with much confusion, and satisfied me even to the least circumstances of his misfortune, and the unworthiness of Segestes. I crave your pardon (continued Inguiomer looking on Agrippa) if I speak of the Alliance Segestes made with you as a base and unworthy action, and that in many passages of my discourse I speak of the Romans as one that was born in Germany, a lover of his Country and Liberty, and that abhors, as it is natural enough, the yoke you have imposed upon the better part of the world. I do not think it any way trange, (replies Agrippa) and though in the transaction of Germany we made our advantages of the defection from you of Segestes, yet you may assure yourself there were among the Romans those that did not approve it, and can have a respect for Virtue, to the prejudice of their interest.  
Upon that assurance (replies Inguiomer) I shall go on in my discourse with more freedom, and tell you, that at that which Arminius entertained me with concerning his disgrace, I was no less moved than he seemed to be himself, and gave him, such expressions thereof as suffered him not to doubt it. ● encouraged him in the design he had, as well out of his own inclinations, as the suggestions even of Ismenia herself, to prefer Glory and his Duty before all other concernments, and to purchase Ismenia with the loss of all his blood, rather than that of his Honour. Not but that he acknowledged, that he could not be persuaded to lose Ismenia, and that he should not be so much assured of her constancy, did he not hope to secure it by other ways then such as were proposed to him. That very night I was permitted to see her, and whereas she ever had abundance of kindness for me, and looked on me as a person dearly loved by Arminius, and entrusted with the secret transactions of his soul, she received me after the most obliging manner in the world, and spoke to me with much confidence. After the first overtures of discourse, wherein I expressed the sense we had of the injury done us by Segestes, and the astonishment all Germany was in at the change he had made, passing to the love of Arminius, whose grief I represented to her according to my affection, and the truth; What, Madam, (said I to her) can those cruel considerations of Segestes make you forget poor Arminius! I shall never forget him while I live (said she to me) and you would infinitely oblige me, if you could but find out a way to reconcile my Duty and the Affection I have for him, and assure me his, so as that I may not offend against Virtue, displease my Father, or be dissatisfied myself. No question but it may be done (replied I) and the affection you have for him being conceived in you by the commands of your Father, he himself cannot condemn it, though you continued it to the last moment of your life. Assure yourself, Inguiomer, (replied the Princess) I shall do all lies in my power, that I may never be any others then Arminius 's, and that in this design I shall comply with my own inclinations no less then with your advice: but I know you to be more rational then to desire of me to do any thing contrary to decency and prudence. Our conversation was but short, for fear of raising any jealousy in Segestes, who might well take it amiss, as our affairs stood, we should have any long conferences.  
The next day having demanded audience to acquaint him with the occasions of my coming to his Court, I was brought to him into his Closet, where he permitted me to entertain him all alone; and finding in myself some remainders of that freedom which I had formerly taken with him, together with what I might derive from the remembrance of our ancient Alliance, I confidently took occasion to represent to him the injury he had done his reputation, and the illustrious blood of so many Kings whereof he was descended, in voluntarily submitting to a yoke, to avoid which, all generous men maintained their Liberty to the last gasp, in making himself, of a King as he was over a great Country, a Slave to the people of Rome, in abandoning the interests of Country's, which in all Nations were dearer than life, and breaking the Alliance he had made with his neighbours, confirmed by him with so many promises and Oaths, and particularly that of Clearchus, his ancient Friend and Brother, by the union which had been made between them, and the Alliance they had contracted. I represented to him what all Germany would in all probability judge of it, what the Romans themselves, enemies to baseness and changes of that nature, might think of it, and what he should justly fear both from Gods and Men in exposing himself by such proceedings, to the reproaches of some, and the revenge of others; and in fine I exhorted him, with all the remonstrances which the passion out of which I spoke could suggest to me, to recover himself while he was yet in a condition to do it, to be more tender of the serenity of his conscience which upon that change of party could not but be in some disturbance, and to have some regard to common report, the Friendship of Clearchus, and the services of Arminius, which had not deserved a treatment so unsuitable to the hopes he had conceived thereof; not omitting any thing which I imagined likely to prevail with him to take things into better consideration.  
Segestes gave me the hearing with much patience; but being before hand provided as to the answer he intended me, as having foreseen some part of the things I might have said to him, he found it no great difficulty to insist on many wretched reasons to excuse his change, which he represented to me with the greatest advantage he could, as well in regard of what was added to his Territories, as the quiet he enjoyed by following a party whereto all Germany must in time submit, and to the power whereof all the earth had given way; that he could never have hoped any such thing, while that had been opposite to him, and that he had sought a peace which he had not been acquainted withal from the first coming of the Romans into Germany; that it was his hope Clearchus would follow his example, as well out of a consideration of their Friendship as the advantages he might make of a compliance with the same party; that upon my arrival, he was in some thoughts of sending an Ambassador to represent to him the grounds of his proceedings, to make such Propositions to him as were worthy his acceptance, together with excuses that he had managed the business of the Treaty with so much secrecy, out of considerations that were not disadvantageous to him; concluding at last with an exhortation no less earnest to me than mine had been to him, to embrace their party, and to engage Clearchus and Arminius in an alliance with the Romans, as the only means whereby they might hope to govern their people with tranquillity. 'Twas with much ado I had the patience to hear the conclusion of his discourse, and looking on him as a person in whom I no longer found the character for which I had esteemed him; Think not (said I to him) to seduce Princes whose hearts are equal to their exactions, and in whose apprehensions Honour hath the precedence of all other considerations. You shall find Clearchus, Arminius, and Inguiomer rather without life, then without glory and liberty; but after what what manner will you be able to treat with Arminius, to whom you are obliged both by your word, and the services he hath done you? Arminius (replied Segestes, with much more fierceness then at the beginning of our conversation) is engaged in the interests of his Father, and hath expressed to me that that consideration was more prevalent with him then the love he had for Ismenia, but though he should change his intentions, and resolve to quit Clearchus for Ismenia, he shall never marry her, but conditionally that he bring Clearchus into our party. It is not in the power of Arminius (reply I, very much incensed at his discourse) to bring Clearchus into your party, and I am inclined to believe his virtue to be such as not to admit any such intention in him. Not but that he loves Ismenia so far as to prefer her before all things; but Ismenia herself loves the honour of Arminius, and would not he should purchase her by actions contrary to virtue. Let him then think of some other ways to gain her (replies Segestes somewhat more enraged;) for be may be confident she shall never be his with the consent of Segestes. Besides (added he) I have given you my last resolutions, and you may let me know yours when you think fit, Since I am obliged thereto, (said I to him, with a countenance as full of animosity as his) I am upon the obligation of my duty, and your proceeding, to tell you, that my charge is to break all Alliance with you, to bring back Arminius to his Father, and to declare to you, that Clearchus will require of you for Arminius, the performance of your word. I am sufficiently sensible (replies Segestes, speaking louder than he had done before) that you come to denounce open War against me, and I accept it, fall the extremities thereof where it will; and from this moment looking on Arminius and yourself as my professed enemies, I command you to leave my Dominions within three days. We shall not delay our departure so long (replied I) as conceiving, that to take leave of you and Ismenia, Arminius will think the remainder of this day sufficient. He may spare himself that trouble if he please (replied Segestes) but since you desire it so much, he may acquit himself of that civility, as being the last time he ever is likely to do it.  
With those words we parted; and going to Arminius, who expected me with an impatience greater than he was ordinarily guilty of, by reason of the distraction he was in, and giving him an account of the ill success of my negotiation, it put him to such extremities of grief and indignation as it were hard for me to represent to you. Being naturally impetuous and full of fire, he could not forbear breaking forth into bitter expressions against Segestes, threatening his dominions with Fire and Sword, and whatever consequent. to War that is most calamitous: But not long after reassuming some thoughts of mildness upon the remembrance of Ismenia, it troubled him that I had made so sudden a breach with Segestes, and would have quarrelled at the precipitation of my procedure, had he not been satisfied I was forced to it by that of Segestes, and could not have done otherwise, without violence to my Duty, and derogation from the Dignity of Clearchus. In fine, having recovered himself, and out of the greatness of his courage, and upon the things I represented to him, resolved for all accidents, he would stay with Segestes no longer then till the next day, and giving order immediately to his Officers to prepare all things for his departure, he received the visits and farewells of a great number of Friends, which his virtue had acquired him in Segestes' Court, and who could not think on his leaving that place in a condition so different from the hopes they had conceived, without visible discoveries of grief. He smothered his own in their presence as much as lay in his power, but it was apparent enough in his eyes, to acquaint them with some part of what passed in his mind. In fine, having disengaged himself out of the company of those who had expressed so much generosity as not to fear falling into disgrace with their Prince by visiting him (for there was a great number of others whom that consideration had deterred) he would, having the liberty to do it, go and take leave of Ismenia; which certainly must needs be the saddest in the world, coming after such happy beginnings, and a progress much unsuitable to the condition he then was in. Having the greatest confidence that could be of me, he would needs have my company in that visit to Ismenia, and that I should be present at the discourse they had together. The Torches were lighted, and the Princess was laid on her Bed, the better to conceal from the persons that might come into her Chamber the changes of her countenance, and the tears which not withstanding her constancy she could not forbear upon that doleful separation. We were brought to the Bedside, and found her in such a condition as whence we could not but conclude her sensible of the disgrace of Arminius, as much as could be expected. The beginnings of their conversation were tenderly affectionate, insomuch that Arminius could not with the assistance of all his courage forbear tears, wherewith he watered one of the fair hands of Ismenia. For my part, I was so much moved at both their grief, that the discoveries I made of it were not much different from what they did, and while I advised, them to exercise their courage upon that occasion, I had much ado to make any advantage of my own. In fine, Arminius having spent a good while in sobbing, complaints, and ill connected discourses, doing a violence to his grief, the better to discover his intentions; Madam, (said he to the Princess) I leave you in the condition you now see me in, and through the cruelty of a man I cannot hate because he is your father, I quit a place, where in all appearance I should one day have been the happiest man in the world! But think not I leave you according to the intentions of Segestes, and that with your sight I lose those hopes that are dearer to me then a thousand lives. No Madam, imagine not that any consideration of party, blood, or duty could force me from you, if I thought my departure could not be without losing my Princess: And be pleased to have some assurance, that though I go hence by order from Segestes, I carry with me affection and courage enough to dispute you against all the World to the last drop of my blood. I shall see you again, my dearest Princess, if the Gods are so pleased to order it, and shall not quit aught of my legal pretensions, what Enemies soever I may meet withal. Were it not for this hope, which is predominant in my heart above all the passions that disturb the serenity of it, you should see me expire at your feet, and fall on the point of my sword, rather than leave you; and therefore I part from you with a settled assurance that I shall accomplish one part of my Destiny, while the other shall be in your hands. What else is to be done I expect from you, and I shall little fear the cruelty of Segestes, and the power of all the World, if in my misfortune you continue me your precious affections. Nay, you might haply do somewhat more for me, since that after the consent of Segestes in order to my happiness, and the commands you have several times received from him, to love me as the person designed by him to be your Husband, you might, without fear of any blame, continue that first obedience, as being not obliged to change your inclinations to comply with his fantastic humours, but aught in reason ......  
'Tis enough, (says Ismenia interrupting him) for Heaven's sake, Arminius, keep to the justice of your cause, and merit not the affliction you suffer, by desires and demands that are unreasonable: I do for you all that lies in my power, and am much more wanting as to my duty upon your account, than you are to yours upon mine. There are many Princesses in the world, who would treat you much after another manner than I do, and think themselves dispensed from their first obligations towards a Prince that were a declared enemy to their Father and country; but I make the less reflection upon that severe regularity, because I am really satisfied of the injustice you suffer, and that I would not be charged with having any hand in a change which I condemn no less than you do: But while I continue innocent towards you, give me leave also to be in some measure such towards a Father, or indeed rather towards myself, to whom I owe no less, and who am more considerable to you then Segestes. I protest to you, in the presence of the Gods, and before Inguiomer, that the change of Segestes' intention hath not raised any in my heart towards you, and that there never shall with my consent, be any other entertained into the place designed for you. You cannot expect more from Ismenia, who would love virtue no less than she does you. For the rest, let our dependence be on the Gods, who can change our Fortunes as they please, and let us be sure to keep them of our side, by doing nothing that may make them our enemies. No question (replied Arminius) but it is in the power of the Gods to change our Fortunes; but it must be acknowledged, that men may also contribute thereto, and you will not take it amiss if I should endeavour it by all the ways that Honour and Love shall encourage me in. I doubt not but Clearchus will use all the force he can make to revenge the injury he hath received from Segestes, and if he be once engaged in such a design, it would not be in my power to divert him, as I should, out of the respect I have for you, be desirous it were. But not seeking my revenge against a Prince who is your Father, you will give me leave to take such courses as may induce him to keep his word, and you will not oppose my gaining of Ismenia with the dearest of my blood. I shall in all the emergencies consequent to the misfortunes of War, look on the Father of Ismenia with the respect I ought, and if I engage against him with some resentment, it shall not be because he is an Ally of the Romans, but because he detains Ismenia from me. Proceeding out of motives and considerations so just, I cannot fear, my dearest Princess, you should condemn me, much less address yourself to Heaven against me. 'Tis the greatest comfort I have left me; and were I deprived of it, I should immediately renounce a life which I cannot esteem but for your sake, nor preserve, but out of the hope I have to gain you.  
Ismenia was silent a while, not satisfied what answer to make to this discourse; at last, with a countenance, wherein was visible the unsetledness of her mind, Arminius (said she to him) I know not what your resolutions may be, and should be glad to continue in that ignorance, that I might persist in my innocence, and defy the reproaches I might receive, and which indeed I should make to myself: since I cannot without the imputation of some crime permit you to engage in a War against my Father, nor without injustice forbid you to serve your own, and to demand Ismenia, whom you love, and who was promised you. Be guided by the inspirations of your virtue, and the affection you have for me, without the addition of those you might expect from me. I shall so endeavour to regulate my devotions, that if they favour you not, they shall not be contrary to your designs; and while I solicit the Gods that my Father may not be overcome, I shall not desire of them that you should be disappointed of Ismenia. Mean time, what resolutions soever you may take, remember that Sege●tes is still my Father, and that while you prosecute the interests of your Love and Duty, you run not into any extremity, which may oblige me to quit the sentiments I now have for you. They had some further discourse, wherein I also had my part; but out of a fear that, as things stood, Segestes should not approve a longer conversation. Arminius was forced to take his leave; which he could not do without shedding abundance of tears, yet with a satisfaction to see Ismenia as liberal of them as himself. Bidding him the last adieu, she recommended Segestes to him; and faluting me with much affection, recommended Arminius to me. Hereupon we left her Chamber, and being returned to our own Lodgings, Arminius passed away the night in sighs and lamentations, and whatever so cruel a separation might produce in a soul distracted betwixt love and affliction.  
The next morning betimes, all was ready for our departure, and as soon as Segestes, was to be seen, we went to bid him adieu. Could Arminius have followed his own inclination, he would have forborn that ceremony, but it was such as there was some necessity to observe, at the leaving the Dominions of a Sovereign Prince, such as Segestes; and on the other side, Arminius considering him as the Father of Ismenia, was desirous in all things to express the esteem he had for her. Segestes received us with a certain indignation, and what violence soever Arminius had resolved to do himself upon that occasion, yet could he not approach him without a fierceness inferior to his. My Lord, (said he to him) we come to take leave of you, & it is with a regret to see our departure from your Court so different from our arrival into it. You came Friends, (replies Segestes) & you depart as Enemies; these are the vicissitudes of Fortune, & the world is daily acquainted with changes no less considerable. This change you only are chargeable with, (replies Arminius) & not Fortune, & it is you also, & not Fortune that we are to call to account for your Oaths, and the performance of your word. I am sufficiently disengaged as to that (replies Segestes) and before you come to call me to that account, you will find me in such a condition, as that the Prince of the Cherusci will haply be glad enough to quit scores with me. Though it should so happen▪ (replied Arminius) I shall respect you much more as Father of Ismenia, than I shall fear you in the head of the Ingriones; and it is not unlikely they may remember, since you have forgot it, that I carry a sword by my side, wherewith they have seen me do those things in your service, which will not suffer them to contemn it. I was unwilling they should come to higher terms, out of a fear Segestes might thence take occasion to detain us; and indeed, we have been informed since, that for the space of some hours after that discourse he had an intention to do it, as imagining it the only way to prevent what the Prince of the Cherusci might attempt against him, by keeping us as Hostages for his security. And had put it in execution, had he not been afraid, that in violating in that manner the Law of Nations towards persons of our quality, to incur the hatred, and haply draw on himself the Arms of all Germany; and conceived withal, that the Romans, among whom the National prerogative was held sacred, would not approve the action, nor countenance him in it.  
Thus came we away from Segestes, crossed the Countries that were in his jurisdiction, and arriving among the Cherusci, presented ourselves to Clearchus, who had not seen Arminius in many years before. He received him with all the affection which the assurance he had of his excellent endowments might add to the tenderness he naturally had for him; and finding him admirably accomplished as to body and mind, and full of glory for the gallant actions which had signalised his first appearances in military transactions, he conceived such satisfaction thereat, that it in some measure moderated the grief he felt upon the unworthiness of Segestes. He promised him to raise all the Forces his Dominions were able to make, to prosecute their common revenge, and accordingly sending his Orders every way for the Levies of Men, he in a short time got together a very powerful Army, and marched in the head of it towards the Frontiers of the Ingriones. I shall not insist on the particulars of that War, out of a confidence, that you have had an account of it, and that the Romans concerned themselves but too much in it, to be ignorant of the most important emergencies thereof. 'Tis very true (says Agrippa to Inguiomer) that what was of most consequence relating to the War, soon came to our knowledge; but as to what concerns the business of Love, I am utterly ignorant, and therefore entreat you not to contract your discourse concerning that, though you do in things that have reference only to the War.  
Since you so much desire it (continued Inguiomer) I shall briefly tell you, that marching towards the Frontiers of the Ingriones, we were far from surprising Segestes, who having received intelligence of our preparations for War, and our march towards his Country, got together certain troops he had not disbanded, and having increased their number with some others which he raised with great diligence, he had an Army afoot, sufficient to dispute our entrance into his Territories; besides his expectation of a supply from what was then raising, and the assistance he had sent for to Quintilius Varus, who with a Legion, and six hundred Horse, had been sent by Tiberius into the Country of the Angrivarii, he marched towards us, and sat down to oppose our passage, between the Head of the River Visurgis, and the extremities of the Mountains of Melibocus, which was the most likely place to get into his Country, the rest being secure, either through the depth of the River or the steepiness of the Mountains, which are almost inaccessible. Had Segestes had the time to take his advantages, and Post himself to his mind, the place naturally favouring him, we should have found it a business of much difficulty: but both Armies coming thither much about the same time, he could not execute what he had resolved, and was for●'d to fight us with much more equality than he had imagined. Many engagements happened between several parties, wherein Fortune had carried herself very impartially; but where Arminius chanced to be in person, Victory could not but be attendant on those performances of Valour, which were so great as hardly to find credit, with such as had them only by relation: nor wanted I had some Friends, who by the reports they scattered abroad, would make the world believe, that I done things worth the observance. At last, the command of the Army became ours by reason of the infirmity of Clearchus▪ who finding himself indisposed, was forced to leave the management of the War to us. Out of the Friendship and esteem which Arminius had for me, he would needs share the command with me, which I was content to accept of, the more to ease him, though glad all should be done in his Name, and for his reputation. And indeed he did things so noble, that after many defeats, whereby his forces were much weakened. Segestes was forced to give us entrance into his Country, and to retreat in great disorder towards Candonium, the chief City of the Casuares. In that retreat, his losses were so considerable, and his Forces were so spent, that not able to keep the field any longer, he thought it his only course to fortify himself in the City, leaving his Horse without lodged in so advantageous a Post as it was hard to force them out of. Upon which Arminius began to consider that it was not fit he should press so hard upon the Father of Ismenia, and conceived it not unseasonable to make some Proposals to him while he was yet in the favour of Fortune. In order to which design, returning him a great number of Prisoners, and among others, two of his Nephews whom he dearly loved, and who had been taken in the last engagement, after he had made them magnificent presents, he gave those that had been appointed for their Convoy, a Letter to Segestes, wherein he found these words.  
Arminius Prince of the Cherusci, to Segestes Prince of the Ingriones and Casuares.  
Clearchus' fought for his Country and his interests, but you know, my Lord, that (●ight only for the obtaining of Ismenia. I willingly renounce all pretensions which the success of War may have given me to your Country, but cannot those I derive from your word to the Princess Ismenia. Accordingly it is upon the account of your promise that I demand her of you▪ and not out of any consideration of the advantages which Fortune may afford us. Remember, my Lord, I should have been your Son, and not your Enemy, and that remembrance is the only way to recover your reputation, to assure your People of peace, and Arminius of his life, who begs it of you at a time when he is in a condition to maintain it against any power what soever, besides that of his Love.  
This civility of Arminius was but ill acknowledged by Segestes, who being of a violent and invincible nature, instead of any resentment of the courtesy of so generous an Enemy, was the more exasperated at it, and sent him word back by those who had convoyed the Prisoners, that he would within few days bring him an answer to his Letter in the head of twenty thousand men. And indeed, not many days after, he received a considerable supply by the coming in of two of his Generals, who brought him the rest of the Forces which he had ordered to be raised, so that his Army was more numerous than ours; besides which, understanding that the King of the Suevi with whom he had made Alliance, sent his son Marobodes to his relief, and that Varus had promised those he had sent to him, that he would assist him with all his Forces, as soon as his occasions among the Angrivarii would permit, he grew insupportably confident. Though it must be acknowledged, Segestes is a person of much experience in warlike affairs, yet he expressed but little upon this occasion, since that he must needs have put us extremely to it, had he had the patience to stay for the great supplies were promised him: But the impetuosity and restledness of his nature forced him against all the rules of prudence and military conduct, & imagining himself strong enough with the Forces he had to engage us, he quits Candoum, disposes his men in a posture of fight & courted us to a pitched battle. Arminius, whom the violence of his proceedings had incensed, very gladly accepted it, and managed his business so fortunately for us, and so unfortunately for the Enemy, that after a hot and doubtful engagement for most part of the day, the best of their Forces were left upon the place; and to make our victory the more absolute, Segestes himself was taken Prisoner. I presented him myself to Arminius, having with much ado gotten him out of a hot and dangerous engagement, wherein he gallantly defended himself: But the Prince upon the first sight of him was in such a disturbance as to resolution, as I had never observed in him before. His first apprehensions could not but lead him to the joy he was in a manner surprised with, upon so considerable an advantage, and so probable a way to gain Ismenia; but not long after, the confusion he was in was no less, to see the Father of Ismenia standing before him, deprived of liberty, and in a condition so different from that wherein he had seen him not long before, when with so much insolence and ingratitude he had sent him out of his Dominions. The shame it must be to a person of that quality to suffer so great a change, passed from the countenance of the conquered into the soul of the Conqueror; and coming to him in a posture more suitable to the condition Segestes was then in, than his own, Ah, my Lord, (said he to him) what do I see? Is it possible Fortune should be so unmerciful as to make you suffer the affliction I now see you exposed to? Then turning towards me, Uncle (said he) you might have spared me the confusion you put me to, and have returned Segestes among his own people, and not have detained him among persons that through their misfortune are odious to him. I made no answer to his discourse, and Segestes receiving it with the same fierceness he had expressed at our departure from his Court: Make the best advantage thou canst, Arminius, (said he to him) of thy Fortune, and expect not any act of weakness from me in this change of mine. I shall, my Lord, (replied Arminius) make my advantage of it, but so as to avoid all reproach of having abused it. Whereupon, perceiving his clothes bloody, and understanding he had been wounded, he caused him to be stripped and put in his own Bed, though not without resistance, and would needs be present at the dressing of two slight wounds which he had received in the Battle. Segestes received this civility of Arminius which much aversion, but it abated nothing of the earnestness of the Prince to serve him, which was such, that he could not have had greater attendance in his own Palace, nor have had those about him that should be more ready and careful to obey his commands. I was very much pleased at the generosity of Arminius, as being resolved not to have treated him otherwise myself; but I was desirous he should make use of that advantage over Segestes to gain Ismenia, and not set him at liberty till he had put the Princess into his hands. The rest of that day Arminius nor myself had any discourse with him, as unwilling to say any thing to him so soon, whence he might imagine we intended to make any advantage of his misfortune: But the next day, finding his hurts were not such as obliged him to his Bed, or hindered him from riding abroad, if he had any desire to do it, we resolved to speak to him of it; and I took the business upon me, seeing Arminius had not the confidence to do it. To that end coming into his Chamber while he was dressing, after we had enquired after his health, I came to him, and while Arminius was speaking to some others in the Room, to give me the better opportunity to discourse with him, so as it might not be thought to proceed out of any design, being safe on the Bedside with him; Well, my Lord, (said I to him) have you not seen miseries and blood enough spilt to satisfy the aversion you have conceived against a Prince that hath served you, and ever honoured you as a Father? Will you not be willing, upon the entreaty he shall make to you with all the submission you can expect from a dutiful Son, suffer that unjust animosity to give way to the inclinations you have sometimes had for him, and making good the engagement of your word, satisfy the many other obligations you owe him, by granting him the happiness you have so many years since promised him?  
Segestes entertained my discourse very scornfully, and looking on me with much indignation, Were I obliged (said he to me) both by my word, and the services of Arminius, to do what you desire of me, his late actions sufficiently disengage me; and besides the opposition of our several interests, there is little probability I should look on a man that brings desolation into my Territories, and spills the blood of my subjects, nay my own, as one that would pretend a Marriage with my Daughter, Ah, my Lord, (said I) charge not Arminius with the calamities of a War, whereto you know you have forced him, wherein he hath out of duty followed the directions of his Father, and of which there needs no more to clear him then his affection for Ismenia. That affection (replies Segestes) should have diverted him from it, since he cannot be ignorant, that violence and force of Arms can prevail nothing upon Segestes. And you know (added I) that he took not this course to gain Ismenia, till all others had proved ineffectual, and that there is nothing so difficult, so he may do it with honour, which he is not still ready to embrace, to appease your indignation, and purchase Ismenia. He shall never have her while he lives, (replied Segestes, lifting up his voice with an accent expressing the excess of his sury) and it is for my Friends and Allies that I have designed her, not for my in●placable Enemies. If Arminius take my advice (replied I, much moved at his discourse) you will not have the disposal of her so freely as you imagine; and if my solicitation may prevail any thing with him, it must be the delivery of Ismenia shall be the price of your liberty. He is the Master of it, I must confess, (replies Segestes) yet shall he not find the least compliance or change of intention in me to obtain a Liberty, which though Fortune hath deprived me of, I may recover by the assistances of my Friends, and which I would rather owe the chance of War than his courtesy. You shall not owe it any man (says Arminius come up to us) nor indeed have you lost it for your being brought among persons whom you may as freely command as the most inconsiderable of your own subjects. Be pleased to pardon the discourse my Uncle hath entertained you with, as proceeding merely out of the compassion he hath for my misfortune; and since you cannot be moved thereat, follow your own inclinations, without any fear that the advantage the chance of the war hath given us shall any way prejudice your liberty. Nor is it out of that consideration that I would make any Proposal to you, or press you, at a time when you thought yourself not free, to a thing which at any other I should not with much more confidence have demanded. You shall this day return among your own people, if your health will permit it, and from what hath happened in this War, I derive not any power over your person, or pretention to your Country; but for what I have to Ismenia. I am so far from being resolved to quit it, that I will dispute her with those whom you have designed her for, nay, with all the world, to the last drop of my blood. Segestes, though exasperated as he was, yet could not forbear a certain confusion at the generosity of Arminius; but he persisted in his resolutions, thinking it enough to tell him, that if Fortune should in the sequel of the War declare herself of his side, he would acknowledge, upon a like occasion, the honourable treatment he had received.  
After this Arminius would not have any thing said to him but what related to his departure, and as soon as he had dined, causing Horses to be brought for him, and all the prisoners taken with him, he guarded him in person till they came in sight of Amasia, which was one of his Cities whither he was willing to retreat, as having ordered his Lieutenants to rally all his broken Forces near that place. As he took leave of him, he begged his pardon for the affliction he might conceive at his being taken, whereof he had been as sensible as himself; & told him, resolute enough, that as for his person he should ever consider it as sacred, but that excepted, he would not spare any thing in the world, and would carry War, Fire, and Sword wherever he came, or become possessor of Ismenia.  
Though this procedure of Arminius was the effect of more generosity than policy, yet me thought it argued so much gallantry, that I could not condemn it, notwithstanding his precipitation into things which his Father might haply disapprove, such as the setting at liberty of a man who at that time was an Enemy to us upon other accounts then the Love of Arminius, and whose person, while in our custody, might prove very dangerous to our party. Yet could not Arminius repent him of it, as hoping his Father would pardon what he had done, out of the affection he bore him, and the compliance he had for his Loves, especially seeing he had impowered him to do any thing conducing to his design, and was content he should marry Ismenia, though Segestes continued his Alliance with our Enemies. Some days after he received a recompense for that action by a Letter of Ismenia's, which was delivered him by a man who suffered himself to be taken by our Scouts, and desired to be brought before him. He opened it with certain eruptions of joy, and found the Tenor of it to be this.  
The Princess Ismenia to Prince ARMINIUS.  
Aught I to love you, Arminius, because you love me, and persist in your fidelity to me; or should I hate you because you are in Arms against us, and spread terror and death through my Father's Dominions? I was in suspense, or at least I ought to have suspended between these two contrarieties when news was brought me both of your Victory, and of the generous treatment you have afforded my Father. 'Tis worthy you, and I find it so far worthy my affection, that to satisfy so great an obligation, I can do no less than assure you of my remembrance of it, (which the condition we are in may haply make criminal in me) and confirm to you the promise I have made you, never to be man's, if I cannot be yours.  
Arminius read it thousands of times, and as often kissed all the characters of it, with such transports as his Love and Youth only could plead excusable in him. He afterwards fell into discourses the most Passionate & amorous imaginable, and made so considerable presents to the Messenger, that he will have reason while he lives to be satisfied with his condition. The next day he sent him back to the Princess with this Answer.  
Prince Arminius to the Princess Ismenia.  
THat you are obliged to love me, is, because I have your promise to do it, because Segestes hath enjoined you, and that I shall love you while I live, beyond what any other possibly may do; and if there be a necessity you should hate me, 'tis because I am unfortunate: But I am satisfied your respect to Justice is greater than to cast your hatred on that which deserves your compassion. I should have feared the taking of Segestes might have displeased you, had I not presumed you satisfied, that the affliction I conceived there at was equal to his, and that I would have been glad, with the loss of much of my blood, to have spared him the confusion it put him into. Pardon, my dearest Princess, these sad effects of my misfortune, and give me leave ever to hope, that if Fortune favours, you will not oppose my designs.  
Mean time we were advanced a days march beyond the place where the Battle was fought; but we went forward but slowly, expecting a supply of seven or eight thousand men which Clearchus was to send us; and by the strict orders were issued out, our Forces behaved themselves very civilly in the Country of the Ingriones, as being unwilling to ruin an innocent people for the unjustice of their Governor. Many places submitted to us without resulance, while Segestes was fortifying himself at Bogadium, whether he had retreated, so that we became Masters of all the Country of the Casuares except some few Cities, those not very strong, which could not hold out against us, the Country all about being at our devotion. Having brought things to this pass, our designs received a sudden check by the intelligence we received at the same time from the Cherusci, by a man whom Clearchus had sent, & from the Ingriones, by certain persons about Segestes, whom the noble treatment they had received from us had made our Friends. By the Envoy from Clearchus we understood, that the King of Suevi, who was the nearest and most powerful Neighbour of the Cherusci, one that not long before had engaged in the party of the Romans, made an Alliance with Segestes; instead of sending into the Province of the Ingriones the supply we spoke of before, to make a diversion that might restore peace to the Ingriones, had made an irruption into the Country of the Cherusci, towards the Mese, and the Fens of the Melsiages; that Clearchus instead of sending us the assistance we expected, had ordered their march that way, and thought he might have occasion enough for all his Forces, according to the report much spread abroad, that Varus leaving the Province of the Angrivarii, and having free passage to the Angilii who are under subjection to the King of the Suevi, was upon his march along the Visurgis, to fall on the other side upon the Cherusci. This we understood by the Envoy sent by Clearchus; but those who were come to us from Segestes, after confirmation of this intelligence, added further, that Segestes, by the Treaty he had made with King of the Suevi, had designed the Princess Ismenia to be married to Prince Marobodes, his eldest Son and the Heir to his Crown, and that it was concluded between them, that at the time same the Suevi should set upon the Cherusci, Segestes should send the Princess to Tulisurgium upon the Visurgis; where Marobodes was to meet her, and thence take her along with him into Suevi. Arminius, who had heard the first part of this intelligence without being any way daunted, grew, pale, trembled, and seemed a lost man at the latter, and that so much the more, in that he who brought it assured us it was very certain, that there was no doubt of it, and that besides what he had learned from persons who could not be ignorant of it, he had a particular charge from the Princess herself to give Arminius notice thereof, and to deliver him a Letter which he then put into his hands. Arminius, who had not expected so much, was more startled at that then any thing before, and opening the Letter, the found in it these words.  
ISMENIA to ARMINIUS.  
I Do all that lies in my power to preserve myself yours, but am afraid my endeavours will prove ineffectual. Polites, will give you an account of the danger we are threatened with; advise with Prince Inguiomer about the ways whereby it may be prevented. In order to the accomplishment of this design, I permit you all things, save the attempting of ouget against the person of Segestes, and hazarding further than needs the life of Arminius.  
The reading of this Letter satisfying Arminius what credit he was to give the relation of Polites, he put many questions to him with such earnestness as sufficiently discovered the cruel disturbances he was in, and understood from him, that Segestes ever since his coming to Bogadium, had not allowed the Princess the liberty she had before, and had so secretly carried on his negotiation with the Suevian Ambassador, that she knew not the leut of it till all things were concluded, having imagined till then, that they treated only about things relating to the War, and medved not with aught concerning her marriage; That she was extremely troubled, when her Father brought her that news, and spoken to him with so much courage and resolution, that Segestes exasperated thereat, had commanded her not to stir out of her own Lodgings, nor speak to any whatsoever: That from that day she had so little liberty, that she had much ado to get the opportunity to write that Letter, and to send it him by one of her Women. In fine, that their Design was so far ready for execution, that to prevent it there was but little time to lose, and that he was afraid the Princess might be already gone from Bogadium upon her removal to Tulisurgium, whither Segestes had ordered her to be conducted.  
Arminius, who, as one at a loss of all resolution, had heard this discourse of Polites, at last summoned his courage to his assistance, and turning to me with a greater confidence than I could have expected, Uncle, (says he) I have haply taken the Alarm more than I should, but it may be pardonable in such a passion as mine, and if your advice and assistance fail me not, I shall not possibly be so unfortunate, as I was in fear I might, upon the first hearing of this news. You may assure yourself, (replied I) that Inguiomer shall never fail you while he is master of a life; nay, if I must lose that to serve you, you shall never find him unprepared to do it. Upon that hope (replied he) I dare attempt any thing; but the pressing extremity I am in, and the design my thoughts are bend upon, will force us to separate, if so you approve it, and I do not much doubt, but that this course which Segestes hath taken to prevent me from having his Daughter, will prove the only way for me to gain her. I shall not set upon those who are to be her convoy from Bogadium to Tulisurgium, as well because I cannot take that way without passing through the Country of the Cattis, and the Forests, whereof the passages are very troublesome for Horse; as that it is not unlikely Segestes himself may conduct her, and I should be loath for Ismenia's sake to engage a party where he were in person: but, if you think fit, I will return back by the head of the Visurgis, and keeping still close to the River, I shall come to Herculeses Forest which lies between our Frontiers and those of the Angilii, and not far from Tulisurgium. There will I lurk till Marobodes be passed by, will suffer him to go Tulisurgium, to receive the Princess, and set upon him in his return thence. This expedition I shall prosecute with all possible diligence, entreating you to stay in the head of the Army, which may now march back into our own Province, to descend it against the Suevi, there being not any thing can oblige us to neglect the security of our Country, to carry on a war against the Ingriones, now that Ismenia is no longer among them.  
I could not but approve Arminius' design, nor but admire the readiness of his resolution, which certainly was the only best he could take to retrieve Ismenia, and relieve his Country. That which most troubled me, was, that I could not be with him, but must see him exposed alone to a danger wherein I would gladly have born him company; but it was a necessity not to be disputed withal, that one of us must head the Army in its march homewards, and he would never have suffered me to go without him upon that enterprise. We resolved therefore he should be going with the next night, and in regard we imagined that Marobodes would have no great force about him, since that to go to Tulisurgium, he came to no place which was not under his own jurisdiction, and where it was unlikely he should fear any thing, the Enemies he was so much frighted at being among the Ingriones, and that Arminius could not with great numbers march so privately as he desired, he would take but Five hundred Horse with him, it being probable that Marobodes had no more, as not engaged upon any expedition of War, and ordered Egilochus, one of his Generals, to follow him with a like number, to relieve him if need were, and to be coming on his march the night following, so to be a day after him at Herculeses Forest, a place known all over Germany. I continued with the Army, with intention not to leave the place where we were for some days, lest Segestes might infer from our departure, that we had notice of his design, and would be diverted from sending Ismenia to Marobodes. Things were put in execution as we had resolved, and Arminius departing with the night in the head of Five hundred Horse, I stayed with the Army, pretending to make a further progress into the Country, and so ordering all things, as that Arminius' absence should not be observed by any one from whom Segestes might have notice of it. Having continued in that posture a time sufficient for Arminius to execute his design, and Segestes to send away the Princess, I left the place we were in, and brought all the Forces back to the head of the Visurgis where they had passed over before, and marched on to the relief of the Cherusci, but with cruel disturbances of mind by reason of the enterprise Arminius was engaged in.  
Mean time was Arminius gotten out of the Country of the Ingriones, and upon his march towards the place he had designed to go to, with all possible expedition and privacy, keeping at as much distance as he could from places much inhabited, and to that end having ordered his men to take provisions with them for so many days. All things seemed to favour him, and he went for the most part through those places that were under the jurisdiction of the Cherusci, and whence there could not any notice be brought to Marobodes, who coming from a part of the Country quite opposite, could not receive any intelligence of the march of Arminius. For two days he kept along the Visurgis, and leaving it when he came over against the Country of the Cattis, entered the Forest of Hercules, which is of a large extent, and in some part divides the Cherusci from the Angilii. There had he the opportunity to lie concealed, and to send some of the most prudent and trusty of his men towards Tulisurgium, to learn whether Marobodes were passed by, and in what condition. These men acquitted themselves of the charge laid upon them, and satisfied him at their return that Fortune had been more his friend than he expected, by presenting him with a man belonging to Marobodes whom they had taken, and who without much urging told him, that Marobodes was gone by, and had been in Tulisurgium two days, that he was to come away thence that day, and repass the Visurgis with the Princess, to lodge that night at Cesia, the first City in his way after his coming into the Province of the Angilii, and whither he was sent before to prepare all things for his reception; that he had but Four hundred Horse with him, but that he thought the Princess would be accompanied by a considerable number of Ingriones as far as the City Mesuvium upon the Albis, and the Frontier-Town of the Suevi-Senones, where the King was to come, and Marobodes to marry the Princess; that he had carried her away the day before, had she not desired to rest that day, as finding herself somewhat indisposed.  
Arminius informed himself of divers other particulars, which he reflected not much upon: so that perceiving he had little time to lose, and putting the man under a strict guard, lest he might break their design, he drew out into a Valley which lay not far from the way which Marobodes was to pass, sending out two Horsemen to bring him word of his first appearance. The hope he conceived of the good success of his enterprise had raised in him a joy that made him appear more cheerful and resolute than they had ever observed him before: he had an excellent Horse under him, his Arms were sumptuous and able to dazzle an Enemy, and all his deportment, as I have understood since, was the most martial and gallant imaginable. He encouraged his men with the most pressing motives he could think on, to fight for his Fortune and his life, representing to them how that both absolutely depended on the event of that days engagement, telling them, that he had ordered Egilochus to join with him with Five hundred Horse, and that it could not be long ere he came up, but that the suddenness of the occasion permitted not any longer stay for him, and that out of the confidence he had of their valour, he doubted not of the Victory without any other assistance. They answered him with those assurances whence he derived no small hopes of the good success he should meet with; and not long after being advertised that the Suevi were in sight, he drew up his men out of the Valley, but not till the Enemy was come so near as that he could not avoid an engagement, and that he could discover Ismenia's Chariots between two great parties of Horse.  
As soon as he appeared, Marobodes was surprised at it, as having not imagined he should meet with any Enemies in that Country, his thoughts being more taken up with his Loves than fight; but being a very stout person, and finding the number of those he had about him, accounting the Ingriones, greater than that of his Enemies, he called for Arms, and putting himself into them with all diligence, stood ready for the charge. Arminius had lost all fear, when he saw the Princess was in a Chariot which could not easily be turned back, in case they were desirous to avoid fight; and heightened by a noble confidence in his own Valour and that of his men, he came on a good round pace, and fell in with the greatest impetuosity in the World among that party where Marobodes was. His men seconded him with much gallantry, so that the ground was in a short time covered with the bodies that fell on both sides. The Suevi, who were of the most considerable in their Country, behaved themselves very valiantly about their Prince; and the Ingriones, whom Segestes had culled out of those that were most affectionate to him, were cut to pieces about the Chariot of their Princess. Arminius making his way among the thickest of his Enemies, sought all about for Marobodes, and challenged him out to fight, by crying to him, as much as the tumult and noise would permit, that he was Arminius, and that Marobodes could not expect a greater Honour than to deal with Arminius, his Rival, and Enemy. Nor did Marobodes avoid him, but his men, who dreaded the valour of Arminius, set themselves before him. Yet could they not do it so, but that at last, notwithstanding all their opposition, Arminius came up to him, and after some blows dealt on both sides, forced him to the ground with two thrusts through the body. He desired not a more absolute victory; and breaking through whatever opposed him, he dispatched the mo●t obstinate, put to flight others, and spared those that forbore further resistance, nay, permitted them to relieve and look after their Prince, if so be he were capable of it.  
Having no more Enemies to engage with, he alighted, and running to Ismenia's Chariot, he presented himself before her covered over with blood and dust, and in a condition that might have frighted her, if ●he had not immediately called to mind the countenance of Arminius. The joy he was in smothered his speech; but taking her by the hand, he kissed it with such earnestness, as would not suffer him of a long time to quit it. Ismenia, as having greater command of herself, spoke first, and endeavouring to overcome the disturbance that spectacle had raised in her apprehensions, a●d to reassume the wont serenity of her looks; Arminius (said she to him) I see you in a terrible posture, after so strange a manner, that I know not whether I can rejoice at such a meeting with you. If Arminius (replied he) be more dear to you then Marobodes, you have reason to rejoice; but if you love Marobodes better than you do Arminius, I confess you have but little ground to be glad. I had no love for Marobodes (replies Ismenia) and Arminius cannot doubt but he is precious in my affections; but I put a Father into an implacable indignation; I am in the hands of a Lover whom he is an enemy to, and I am the cause of all the blood that hath been spilt in my sight. Yet does not this hinder, but that I am what I ever have been to you: but it should not seem strange to you, that all these things should disturb the joy it is to me to see you again, and to escape the danger I was in never to have been yours.  
Arminius answered this discourse of the Princess with words full of transportation, and embraced her knees a long time, notwithstanding her endeavours to make him forbear it; My dearest Princess (said he to her) it stood not with the goodness of the Gods to suffer the injustice was done me, and they have made the cruelty of Segestes contribute to my happiness. Let all the world now arm itself against me, nothing shall trouble my Fortune, since I am at the feet of my Ismenia.  
The Princess interrupted his transportations by ask him, whether Marobodes were dead, and she put that question to him with a disturbance, whence he could not but perceive the compassion she was moved to. Arminius called into her presence those who had taken care of him, and they informed her that he was not dead, but in great danger if he were not looked to. Ismenia ordered him a Chariot, wherein were some of her Women, to carry him to the next Town, where he might be relieved, and discovered to those were left of his party, the pity she had of his misfortune. They departed with their Prince in the Chariot, and Arminius himself expressed to them how much he was troubled for his wounds. Upon which Ismenia desired to quit the place where the engagement had happened, as conceiving a horror at the sight of the dead bodies; but when she was gone some distance from it, causing the Chariot to stay, and speaking to Arminius who road by it, Arminius (said she to him) I pray let me now know what your intentions are? No other, Madam (replied he) than to submit to yours even to death. But how (replied she) do you intent to dispose of me? I conceive (says the Prince to her) there is no place where you may be more sure, or more powerful than where you are to regin over the Cherusci, and over Arminius, since I cannot think you would return to Segestes. I haply aught to do it (replied she) and dif I fear only the treatment I might receive, no doubt but I should: But I am confident, if ever I should see Segestes again, I shall never be yours, and that he would take such order hereafter, as not to fear such an accident as hath now happened to him. What reproach soever therefore I may make to myself for leaving a Father to go with a Lover, I am resolved not to come near him; nor shall I on the other side stay with you, and you ought not to take it ill, that having offended against Decency in the things that are most essential, being by the malice of my Fortune forced thereto, I should observe it in those I may, without putting you into any danger of my loss.  
Having uttered those words she cast her eyes on the countenance of Arminius, and saw he looked earnestly on the ground, with all the marks of a mortal affliction, that he sighed, not knowing what to answer her, and could hardly refrain certain tears which would force their passage out; What ails you, Arminius (said she, seeing him in that posture?) speak Arminius, and give me your advice to find out a secure and honourable place for my retreat, in expectation of the change of my Fortune, and the humour of Segestes. I thought (says Arminius to her after the saddest manner in the world) that you could not have found one either more secure, or more honourable, than to be with a Prince whom you are willing to make your Husband, and performing the Ceremony thereof, put yourself out of all fear, both as to the reports of people, and the displeasure of Segestes: But since I have been so much mistaken, and that haply I am still as unfortunate as ever I was in my life, let us go, Madam, let us go to what part of the earth you think fit to retire to; let us go, if you think fit, even into the arms of Segestes. I shall be able to conduct you any where, without repining; leave you, when you command me to do it, and be the Author of my own death without complaining, when I shall have lost all my hopes.  
He spoke these words after so pressing a manner, and accompanied them with so great discoveries of his grief, that Ismenia's constancy immediately gave way, and after she had continued a while as it were in suspense without answering him, of a sudden taking her resolution, and reaching him her hand, Arminius, (said she to him) I am yours, and no question, had you the full reward of your Love and Virtue, you were worthy something of greater value than Ismenia. Let us go to Clearchus, since you desire it should be so, I shall follow you thither without any repugnance, and am satisfied, that with such a Husband I shall not need fear ought as to the displeasure of a Father, or the reproaches of men. 'Twere impossible for me to represent to you the joy Arminius conceived at this discourse of Ismenia's, and I should spin out my relation to a tedious length to entertain you with all the particulars thereof. I shall therefore only tell you, that after he had thousands of times embraced her knees, and spoke the most passionate words imaginable, to express his resentment to her, he caused the Chariot to drive on, and road by it with his men, so heightened with the satisfaction of his own thoughts, that he could hardly keep within the limits of moderation.  
They took their way towards the chief City of the Cherusci, and a little before night, came to a Village where they would stay that night, though the accommodations as to Lodgings were but very poor. Arminius passed away several hours at the feet of Ismenia, in the poor Lodging they found her, and being not troubled at any thing, but to see the inconvenience she was put to, he not only thought that night the best and most happy of all those that had preceded it, but preferred it before all the days and moments of his life past. The poor Prince thought he had Fortune under his feet, when that implacable enemy was preparing misfortunes for him far more cruel than any he had suffered before, and had flattered him only for some minutes, that she might show him her more terrible countenance afterwards. In the morning betimes, Arminius having sent some of his men towards Herculeses Forest to see whether Egilochus with the party he commanded were come thither, left the Village with his company, and unfortunately as it happened to him, marched on as one blinded by his joy and happiness, and that thought himself as secure as if he had been in absolute peace in the chief City of the Cherusci. Drawing out of a Valley, which had deprived him the sight of the Country about, he immediately finds the Champion covered with several squadrons of Horse, and was gotten so near ere he perceived them, that he could discern the Roman Eagles, and saw that he was fallen into the hands of the Romans. At which sight, frighted for Ismenia, and not out of any thought of himself, he ran to her, and with much trouble acquainted her with the danger he was in. Ismenia was moved at it as she ought to be, yet seemed nothing the less courageous, and casting herself out of the Chariot, got up behind Arminius, to try if she could possibly escape, as conceiving he would rather die than leave her. Her women did the like; but all proved ineffectual, for that Arminius going to put forward, Ismenia not able to sit, was forced to slip down to the ground: And during that time, the Romans dispersing themselves to hinder their escape, they saw it was in vain to attempt it. Her women, who could sit better than she, were carried away all save one who was left to run the same fortune with her, and Arminius set himself before her with all his men, as resolved to lose his life at her feet. Ismenia upon this occasion discovering a courage not inferior to his, Arminius (said she to him) I will in this misfortune make a greater expression than ever I have done of the affection I have for you. I should fear nothing from the Romans if I were but known to be Daughter to Segestes, and no doubt but they would treat me suitably to so near a relation to an Ally they respect; but I am confident on the other side they would deliver me up to Segestes, and that I should be absolutely lost to Arminius. I will therefore run fortunes with you, as being involved in those of my Husband, and expose myself to the miseries of captivity rather than discover myself to be Daughter to Segestes. Assure yourself, that before I do that, I shall suffer any thing but the loss of my Honour, and it shall be only to secure it, that I shall reveal who I am.  
She had hardly concluded her discourse which was so full of generosity, ere Arminius and his men were set upon by the Romans, and surrounded in such manner, that there was no probability of safety for any one that would not abandon Ismenia. I shall not, my Lord, trouble you with the particulars of that engagement, wherein Valour was orepressed with number, and only tell you, that after prodigious attempts, Arminius fell down dead in all apprehension, with divers great wounds about him, and that all his men were killed, so that one did not escape the fury of the Romans; and that deprived of sense he lo●t the Princess, and could never learn how she had been carried way. This was done by Varus' Horse, who according to the Treaty made with Segestes, was come from among the Angrivarii, to make eruptions into the Country of the Cherusci, and was advanced before the infantry, which was also on its march at not many hours distance behind them.  
The Romans had not been gone an hour from the place, when Egilochus with the Five hundred Horse under his command, guided by those that had been sent to him, comes where the Fight had been, and among many of his acquaintance that he knew, found the deplorable Arminius weltering in his own blood. He runs to him▪ and perceiving in him some remainders of life, he disposed him into a Litter which he caused to be made, and had him carried into a City not far from thence. You will not, my Lord, think it much I should contract a relation wherein you are not to expect any thing further that is pleasant, and that I tell you in few words what hath happened to us since. You are then to know, that Arminius having been well looked after in that City, which belonged to the Cherusci, discovered some hopes of life, and soon after was in a condition to be removed to Angelia which is one of the principal Cities of the Cherusci, where Clearchus, almost out of himself with grief, met him, and caused him to be so attended, that he was wholly recovered within three months from the day of the engagement, and no sooner.  
Mean time I was gotten into the Province of the Cherusci with the Army I brought back with me out of the Country of the Ingriones and having met with the Forces of Varus, some days after the misfortune of Arminius, I had fought them with so much advantage on our side, that he was forced to retreat to the Frontiers of the S●evi, whither I pursued him, and made him glad to join with the Suevian Troops which lay along the River Albis. Having understood there what condition Arminius was in, I left all to come and see him at Angelia, where I found him in a way to recover; but infinitely more indisposed in mind then body, as being not desirous of either life or health out of any other respect then to employ it in the recovery of Ismenia. The name of Ismenia was perpetually in his mouth, and seemed to be the only burden of his memory; and had he been a person of less courage, no doubt but he had died out of a pure grief that he had so unfortunately lost her. To raise him out of which all I could do, was by all the sentiments of Friendship to protest to him, I would spend my life to the last gasp to find her out.  
Some days after, being called away to the Army that lay still upon the Suevian Frontiers. I made good the advantages we had gotten so well, that our enemies durst not stir out of their Frontier Towns; and Clearchus having sent another Body under the conduct of Egilochus to the Borders of the Ingriones, he took such order, that he prevented the exasperated Segestes from attempting any thing. About that time we understood, that imagining his daughter had been with Arminius, and incensed against her no less than against Arminius, he married, purposely to cut her off from being Heir to his Provinces; and we heard likewise, that Marobodes was not dead of his wounds, and that there were hopes of his recovery; but that the King his Father, extremely afflicted at that accident, had after some days sickness ended his days, and that the Crown was fallen to Marobodes, who being not, by reason of his indisposition, in a capacity to mind either the War or Civil Government of his Country, was forced to commit all to the management of his Lieutenants, till such time as he were perfectly recovered.  
In the mean time Arminius as soon as he was able to sit on Horseback, came to the place where I was, with a resolution to wander all the world over, but he would find Ismenia. Having understood that she was taken by the Romans, we had sent several persons to Rome to make enquiry whether she had been brought thither, but they returned without the least account of her; so that Arminius and myself concluded there was no way more likely to hear of her; then by becoming Masters of the liberty of Varus who had taken her, or at least his Forces, and that if we might be so fortunate as to take him Prisoner, the delivery of Ismenia, should be the price of his Liberty. To that end, drawing back our Forces further than they were into the Country of the Cherusci, under pretence of the season, which began to be harsh and cold in Germany, we engaged in an enterprise proceeding rather from the suggestions of Love and Youth, than those of Prudence; and having learned from the Spies we continually had about him, that Varus, naturally negligent enough, was not very careful to secure himself, and that he was encamped upon the banks of the River Albis, with not many about him, and in a place far enough from the other Quarters to be soon relieved, we departed, Arminius and myself (for I would not quit him in this enterprise, for the regret I conceived at his misfortune in the precedent) taking a long march which held us all night, with Six hundred Horse, we were by break of day ready to beat up his Quarters. We broke through all that opposed us, cut in pieces all that were about him, and made our way to his Tent, and had certainly taken him, if, as ill Fortune would have it, he had not been relieved by the main body of his forces which then accidentally passed by to go and encamp on the other side. You have understood what hath happened to us since, how we were taken after the loss of all our men, and how Varus, whom our confidence had raised an admiration in, as well as frighted, not able to learn who we were, either from ourselves or those of our men who were taken with us, and not supecting to find Princes and Generals, much less Arminius and Inguiomer engaged in an enterprise fit only for the execution of desperadoes and Soldiers of Fortune, sent us with divers other Captives to a City of the Romans, where we were strictly watched, and since disposed of us to him that hath the oversight of the Gladiators, imagining, from what he had seen us do, we were very fit for that exercise. Nor shall I trouble you with the hardships Arminius suffered during our Captivity, nor tell you that his Love was a greater torment to him then all the miseries of impisonment, nor the shame he conceived at the exercise we were put to: The relation would prove long and tedious, and you may supply it yourself, my Lord, by the reflection you may easily make on what a violent Love and a too just affliction may produce in such a Soul as that of Arminius▪   
The End of the Third Book.   

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA; OR Loves Masterpiece. Part. XI.  
LIB. IV.  
ARGUMENT.  
The Princess Julia coming to Agrippa's to see the two famous Gladiators Arminius and Inguiomer brings among others, Cipassis along with her, who upon sight of Arminius falls into a swound, and is discovered to be Ismenia Daughter to Segestes, Cleopatra, Candace, and Elisa walking in the Garden in expectation of Caesario, meet with Artaban; they discourse of their affairs, and are overheard. Julia brings Arminius and Inguiomer to kiss the Emperor's hands. A Hunting-match being appointed for the divertisement of the Court, and Candace, Cleopatra, and Elisa, going in a Chariot together to participate of the sport, are letrayed by the Artifices of Tiberius, Tigranes, and Cornelius, and like to be carried away by a set party of theirs, but are rescued first by Coriolanus alone, who is seconded by three strangers; till at last came in and joined with them Alcamenes, Artaban, and Arminius. Coriolanus singles out Tiberius, they fight a long time, till at last the latter is worsted.  
INguiomer was upon the close of his Narration when Arminius, having with the persons appointed to wait on him by Agrippa, seen all the most remarkable places about the palace, returns into the Closet. Agrippa considering him upon the discourse of Inguiomer much beyond what he had done by the bare name of Arminius, though it were of great reputation among the Romans entertained him with all the expressions of the real esteem he had for him; and after he had obliged him to sit down, I have been informed (said he to him) by Prince Inguiomer of your noble, but doleful Adventures; and concern myself therein, not as a Roman, but as one of your Allies. The same of your virtue, & that of the Prince your Uncle, was not a little spread among us; but I have now been acquainted with particulars, which oblige me to a far greater esteem for your persons, & a more sensible regret for your misfortunes. It should be one of my heartiest wishes, I could afford you any assistance as to what relates to your Loves, as it is in our power to do in what concerns the other inconveniencies you have undergone, & that it were as easy for me to restore I smenia to you, as it will be to give you an honourable entertainment here, & to accommodate you for your return with all safety into your native Country. By the Intelligence we have lately received out of Germany, we understand, that all things there are in a quiet posture, and that the Prince your Father, who after your loss maintained the advantages he had gained upon his enemies by the ass●ance of the Turingii; hath made a Truce for several years with Segestes and Marobodes, who still continue their fidelity to our side, and who have been the more willingly induced thereto, out of a belief they both were of, that you were dead; and that Segesces, who hath already a Son by the Wife he lately married, designs him to inherit his Dominions, not thinking any more of Ismenia. and thus much I have understood as to what you are concerned in, I shall endeavour, by all the ways I can imagine, to learn what is become of Ismenia; and since Varus is the person by whom she was taken, or at least the sources under his command, I shall haply come to the knowledge of something by his means, he being now in Alexandria, and am confident she will not conceal the truth from me. Arminius entertained this discourse of Agrippa with all the discoveries of a real acknowledgement; & looking on him, not only as a person he was so much obliged to, but as one of the greatest men in the world, My Lord (said he to him) I receive these effects of your Goodness, as so many assurances of the Greatness of your Soul, on which the compassion you have for my misfortunes hath doubtless a greater influence than the esteem you may upon the relation of Inguiomer, have conceived for my person. His affection is haply greater to me, then to have spoken of me without passion, & it may be partially, but he hath been faithful to truth, if he hath told you that I am of all men the most miserable. The deplorable condition my fortunes are in, which hardly vouchsafes me any sentiment of things even of greatest importance, cannot yet hinder but that I have the sense I ought of your generous favours, as also of the proffers of your assistance and authority to find out Ismenia among the Romans, and by the directions of Varus, who can discover more than any other, to get some account of her. What I expect must certainly be doleful and deplorable, it being not improbable, she may have been exposed to those miseries during her captivity, than which death itself might be more supportable to her, such as have haply forced her to sacrifice her life for the preservation of her honour. How ere it may be, I am resoved to die, or find out the truth of it; and though I were to wander all over the world, I will never return into my native country without Ismenia. I would entreat Inguiomer to see it again, and accept, which I gladly resign him, the Sovereignty over the Cherusci, and I wish the Gods were so pleased I had some great Empire to present him with, to requite the obligations I have received from his Friendship. 'twere unjust he should be perpetually involved in my miseries; & he hath suffered enough by a harsh and cruel captivity & the infamous exercise, out of which you relievedus, to exempt him from anyfurther engagement in my errand fortune, which will carry me all over the world, either to find out Ismenia, or if my endeavours prove ineffectual, death. Arminius having uttered these words, could not but burst into tears, whereat Agrippa was extremely troubled. Whereupon Inguiomer turning to him with a dissatisfied look, Do not, Arminius (said he to him) do not offer so great a violence to our Friendship, by the aversion you express for my company, and the injurious proffers you would make me. I shall be equally able with you to support the injurious proffers you would make me. I shall be equally able with to support the inconveniencies of our fortune, and it is long since you might have been assured, that I value your Friendship beyond the Sovereignty of the Cherusci. They were thus, engaged in discourse, when an Officer of Agrippa's, causing torches to be brought into the Closet, gave him notice that the Princess Julia, accompanied by several other Princesses, was come into his Chamber, and that her visit proceeded out of a curiosity she had to see those two famous strangers, whose adventure had made so much noise that day in Alexandria. Agrippa somewhat surprised at it, turns to Arminius; and being infinitely circumspect and generous in all things; It is far from my thoughts (said he to him) that you should be obliged to any thing disconsonant to your own inclinations; and though the Princess Julia be a person the most abliging and officious in the world, and that I dare assure you, her presence will contribute much to your satisfaction, yet if in the condition you are in, you have any aversion thereto, I will go and make your excuses, and am confident it will not be taken amiss. Arminius had indeed some aversion for such a company as then came to see him, and would gladly have avoided it; but he was willing to comply with the civilities of Agrippa, seeing with what circumspection he treated him. And to that end, wiping the tears that were still in his face, he told him, that had he known he were desirous of any such thing, he would have gone himself to wait on the Princess Julia, and those other persons whom he was willing he should see. He had hardly said so much, when the Daughter of Augustus was come to the door, and enters the Closet, followed by the two Princesses of Armenia, Olympia, Andromeda, Urania, and several other Ladies, who ordinarily kept her company. Agrippa ran to meet her, and the two Cheruscian princes made low obeisances, to give her the salute due to her quliaty. The comeliness of their persons heightened by garments suitable to their condition, appeared to that illustrious Assembly, much otherwise then it had seemed to those who had seen them in the Amphitheatre, though there broke forth ablushing into their countenances, out of a reflection on the ignominious treatment they had that day received.  
Julia was infinitely satisfied to see them, and was going to speak to them with her ordinary civility, when of a sudden she perceives a change in the countenance of Arminius, and that so remarkable, as that he seemed to be wholly transported and in a manner at a loss of all apprehension. He retired some paces back, staggering, and lifting up his hands and eyes to Heaven; but while the Princesses were observing his action not without astonishment, they heard a noise behind them, and turning about to see what the matter was, they perceived the fair Cipassis, who came along with Julia to make that visit, falling into a swound between Andromeda and Sulpitia, and discovering, but with much more weakness, a surprise not inferior to that of Arminius. While the Noble Assembly were in suspense what to think of that accident, Agrippa having with some precipitation asked Arminius the reason of the disturbance he was in, Ah, my (Lord, said he with a transport he was not able to suppress) I see Ismenia! And immediately not minding the respect he should have observed in the presence of Julia, and so many great Princesses, which upon any other occasion he had not been a wanting to, and quite, forgetting the care he had till then taken to conceal himself from the Romans, he runs to Cipassis, whom Sulpitia held in her arms, and calling her by the name of Ismenia, he fell down at her feet, and embraced her knees, with an action so passionate, that all present were much more moved and astonished then before. Cipassis, or now Ismenia, recovering the weakness and disturbance, which made her in a manner incapable of discerning what was before her and perceiving that he who embraced her knees was her dearest Arminius, the same Arminius whose image nothing could force out of her remembrance, she took him about the neck, and embracing him with an action wholly affectionate, washed his head with her tears, which affection and joy forced at that time out of the same source whence grief and affliction had drawn so many before.  
The whole Assembly stood amazed at this adventure, but Julia much less than any of the rest: For having been entertained by Cipassis with the History of her Life, even to the least circumstances, she doubted not, upon that spectacle but that the person she saw at the feet of Ismenia, was the same Arminius whom she had made her so well acquainted with by the relation she had given her of him: being of an excellent good nature, & having a particular affection for Cipassis, she conceived at this occurrence all the satisfaction which the concernments of a person highly beloved can possibly raise in a well, disposed soul; and coming up to Cipassis with an earnestness which discovered how much she thought herself interessed in her Fortune; What, my dear Cipassis! (said she to her) the person we now see, is it seems the same on whose memory you bestowed so many tears, and whom I have so much longed to see for your sake? Cipassis lifting up her head from the neck of Arminius, to look on the Princess that spoke to her, and showing her lovely countenance all bathed in tears, True Madam, (said she to her) 'tis the very same, and were it any other I should not be guilty of such miscarriages in your presence as can plead no excuse but the transportation and disturbance whence they proceed. Upon which words she took hold of one of her fair hands, and kissing it several times, It was not enough, greatest of Princesses, (added she) to have granted her Liberty to your poor Slave, and to have out of an excessive goodness abated the miseries of her life, but she must also from you derive all her happiness, and whatever might oblige her to a love of it.  
Julia answered this passionate discourse of the Princess Ismenia, by several kisses she gave her, while in the mean time Arminius having raised himself, kneeled down before her, notwithstanding her endeavours to make him forbear it, and looking on her, not only as the Daughter of Augustus, but a Deity that had preserved and restored Ismenia to him; Celestial Princess, (said he to her) worthy offspring of the blood of the Gods, accept the adorations of a poor stranger, whom from the most deplorable condition whereto Fortune could have reduced him, you now raise to the highest felicity; and since there can be no acknowledgement but is below so transcendent an obligation, nor words but must be short of my resentments, be pleased to receive the addresses of an humble heart that shall ever own you for its Guardian-Divinity. To this effect was the discourse of Arminius; and the incomparable Julia having forced him to rise and treating him with her wont civility towards Sovereign Princes, and those for whose worth she had a particular esteem; I think myself very happy (said she to him) that I have contributed any thing to the repose and fortune of a Prince, whose Virtue I have long since received and account of, and had an esteem for; and to make your felicity yet more consummate, I am to tell you, that I shall not only restore Ismenia to you, but that you will receive her with the most accomplished affection that ever was, and a fidelity towards you that nothing could ever shake.  
While Julia by this discovery made Arminius the happiest man in the world, Inguiomer who was no less elevated than he at that happy change of his fortune, approached 〈◊〉, which the fair Princess perceiving, she received him with demonstrations of tenderness little different from those wherewith she had entertained her Arminius. Agrippa, who out of the excellency of his good nature very carnestly-concerned himself in the misfortunes of that Prince, looked on this accident with extraordinary satisfaction; and all those fair Princesses, and other illustrious persons in whom the admirable endowments of Cipassis had raised an esteem and affection for her, understood with abundance of joy, that she was a Princess born, and that that cruel melancholy which had so often interrupted the serenity of her enjoyments, and which it was observed she took no other course to subdue then by an extraordinary Virtue, was dispelled by this fortunate meeting with him, whose absence occasioned it. They all carressing her in their turns, expressed the satisfaction they conceived thereat: And whereas Julia was extremely a lover of freedom, and had a natural aversion for all reservedness in matter of conversation, they embraced her more freely in her presence, than they would have done had she been of a more severe disposition. Nay, it was some trouble to her, to see that Arminius and Ismenia could not entertain one the other amidst so great an Assembly, as in all probability they should have been desirous to do; insomuch that the more to favour them as to that particular, as she went away, she told Arminius, that after Supper he might come and visit his Ismenia, and have all the liberty he could wish to entertain her, and that she durst promise him he should find her as amiable as he had left her at their separation.  
In the mean time, the Princess Cleopatra had passed away the day with Elisa, Candace, Antonia, and divers other Princesses, who had been unwilling to be spectators of the bloody disvertisements of the Amphitheatre; and whereas there was a very intimate Friendship between her, the Princess of Parthia and the Queen of Aethiopia, and that there was betwixt these admirable persons a perfect communication of all their concernments without the the least reservedness, all their proceedings being the effect of an absolute confidence, they sought, as much as lay in their power, the opertunities of conversing among themselves only: And having that day made a shift to disengage themselves of all company, they supped privately in Elisa's Closet, and immediately after went down a private pair of Stairs into the sumptuous Gardens of the Palace. The delightfulness of the place might indeed oblige them to a short walk there at a time when the coolness made it the more pleasant, for it was just as the darkness began to spread itself over the earth, yet not so as but that the Moon afforded them light enough to discern in some measure the excellencies of the magnificent Garden of the Ptolemies; but it was a stronger motive made them more desirous of the diversion at that time; for Candace, who the day before had not had so much as a sight of Caesario, as well as by reason of the meetings she was forced to be present at, as the several companies she could not disenagage herself from, had found a means to give him notice by Eteocles, whom Clitia had that day spoken with, to come at night into the Garden, and expect her in such a Walk as she had appointed him; Cleopatra, who had such respects for so great and deserving a Brother, as made her equally earnest to see him with Candace herself, would not suffer her to go upon such a design alone: and Elisa, acquained with their intentions, would needs accompany them, as well out of the Friendship she had for them, as by that means to avoid a visit from Agrippa.  
They had already crossed some Walks in their way to that where they were to meet with Caesario, when they perceive passing at no great distance from them, a man, who, as they themselves seemed to avoid company, and to alleviate his affliction, was desirous of the enjoyments of solitude. Passing somewhat close to them, being it seems in such a distraction of apprehensions, as that he minded not much what way he took, and the Moonshine being such, as that it was easy to discern objects at so small a distance, Elisa discovered him to be Artaban, and neither she nor her companions were troubled at the accident, as well in regard he was a person they durst confide in, and that Cleopatra and Candace, out of the esteem they had for him, were much satisfied it was in their power to procure him the conversation of Elisa, as that they were more resolute, having his company, in a place where the very consideration of the darkness might a little frighten them. Though Elisa had the greatest reason to be desirous of his company, yet was it the officious Candace that called him and Artaban, who it seems had not perceived them till he was gotten very near, approaching upon the hearing of himself named, and perceiving who they were, acknowledged the indulgence of the Gods towards him in so fortunate a meeting, & received it with all the satisfactifaction imaginable. While he was with all possible submission saluting the Princess, Elisa, in whom the grief which she saw him so burdened with, upon the competition of Agrippa made more than ordinary impressions, and who was desirous to divert the thoughts of it in him, by all the demonstrations of affection which decency and civility could admit, went on some few paces before her two Friends, and reaching her hand to him after a more familiar manner than she was wont to do, What, Artaban, (said she to him) you desire solitude as well as we? Solitude is not all I seek, (replied he) but I would with it entertain something of comfort to fortify my mind against the assaults of my malicious fortune, as having thought myself, considering the disturbances I am in, absolutely unfit to appear before you this day. Your sadness (replies the Princess) hinders not but that your presence comes ever infinitely to my satisfaction: But I hope you will find less reason to be afflicted then haply you have imagined, and that the Gods will afford us their assistances in this occasion, as they have already done in several others. I shall never despair thereof (replies Artaban, taking her by the hand she reached forth to him, to lead her by it) and I should little fear the obstacles it is in the power of men to raise against me, could I but be confident of the continuance of your favour towards me. I speak not this (added he, perceiving Cleopatra and Candace went some distance before, purposely to give them a greater freedom of discourse) out of any the least distrust of your Goodness, but that I cannot make any Proposal to you, and withal avoid a strange confusion: For in addressing my services to Elisa, I address them to the greatest Princess in the World; and though it may be lawful for an unfortunate wretch, who can pretend to nothing but a Noble Birth and Sword, to adore the Princess Elisa, as one that had the absolute Sovereignty over his heart, yet is there no confidence can heighten his desires so as to aim at the Heiress of the vast Parthian Empire, lest it be thought an effect rather of his Ambition then Love, to aspire to the affections of Elisa, out of a design to get into the Throne of the Parthians. And this haply contributes not a little to my affliction, nay, trouble me haply no less than the cruelty of Phraates, and competition of Agrippa; and were I born Son to Phraates, and that the extraction of Elisa were suitable to that of Britomarus; I should think myself so much the more happy, that I might the better press you to the kindnesses you express towards me, without changing that presumption on any thing but my Love. Artaban, (replies the Princess (add not the trouble you thus put yourself to, without any necessity, to those which Fortune raises us, and be assured you have sufficiently expressed the greatness of your Soul by that of your Actions, to free you from any interest that should abate the value of your affection. I could never imagine the Crown of my Ancestors able to add aught thereto, and therefore would not have you ground your misfortune on any such consideration, but let me entreat you to be satisfied with what Virtue will permit me to do on your behalf, and be absolutely confident, that I should not do more, were you Son to Phraates, or I born in the condition of Britomarus.  
While Elisa and Artaban were thus engaged in discouse, Cleopatra and Candace, who went some paces before, were gotten into that walk where they expected to meet with Caesario, and they were no sooner in it, but they perceived the Son of Caesar attended by his faithful Eteocles coming towards them. Candace received him with all the demonstrations of an affection, whereof she gave him, without the least violence to herself, all the assurances he could desire of it; and the fair Daughter of Anthony caressed him as a Brother whom upon the obligations of blood and desert, she infinitely esteemed. Elisa and Artaban came immediately up to them, and no sooner had Caesario rendered what civility required from him to the Princess of Parthia, but those two reconciled Enemies made it appear by their mutual embraces, that the knowledge they had one of the other, had changed their former resentments into a sincere Friendship. Caesario set himself between Cleopatra and Candace; and forasmuch as Cleopatra had a very high esteem for Eteocles, as well out of the obligation she owed him for the safety of her Brother, as the extraordinary fidelity he had ever expressed to their House, she would needs have him come and take her by the arm on the other side. Elisa and Artaban came on some paces behind them, but at such a distance as that they might well participate of their conversation; and thus they walked along by a Hedge-row of Trees that separated two Walks, which were the most private in the Garden, and at the furthest distance from the Palace; leaving their Women behind, to observe if any other persons came that might interrupt their discourse. Caesario expressed to the fair Queen of Aethiopia the affliction he had conceived to be two days without a sight of her, especially being in the same City where she was, and did it in terms so passionate that she was extremely troubled thereat; and made no difficulty to assure him on the other side, how much she had suffered upon the same account, and that she was not desirous of any thing so much as to see herself at liberty, and in a place where they might fear no further separation: And whereas there were still in her mind some remainders of the exasperation which the discourses Cornelius the night before had put her into, she resolved to make him no longer a stranger to his passion, and acquainted him with all the discoveries he had made thereof, in such terms as fully satisfied the Prince what effect they had wrought in her. How incensed soever the Prince might be at the Love of Cornelius, yet the respect he had for Candace, and his own natural mildness prevailed with him to moderate his resentments thereof at that time, and looking on her with an action full of Love and acknowledgement, I am not much astonished, my dearest Queen, (said he to her) that the Praetor should sink under those powers which are able to crush a soul that pretends to a far greater constancy than his, nay I should much wonder to hear he had the courage to oppose them. Nor can I much charge him with a fault which is in itself but two two pardonable: But in regard I cannot, from his carriage toward you, and the account you give me of his humour, but fear the traverses he may engage us in, I make it my humble first to you, not to make any longer stay in a place where I cannot see you without grief. Though it be that of my birth, and where I had my education, with so promising hopes of future happiness, yet the condition it sees me in now is much different, from that I should find in it, if Fortune had not been too bitter an enemy against us; and being in the midst of so many powerful enemies as surround us on all sides, I cannot shake off the fear I am in to lose you.  
Candace heard this discourse of Caesario with much patience, and having continued a little while silent, without making him any reply, Caesario, said she to him, (for before all that are present I may presume to call you by that name) you are to believe, that after the dangers I have run through, and out of a consideration of that I now see you exposed to by the power of one that would sometime have sacrificed your life with so much cruelty, the most earnest desire I have, is that of leaving Alexandria, and returning into those Territories where we may defy the most implacable of your enemies. I shall from this moment dispose all things in order to my going along with you, and I shall follow you thither with an excessive joy, as the person whom the Gods and the will of my Father have designed for my Husband: But I conceive myself obliged to tell you, that we are so much concerned in the fortunes of the Princess Cleopatra your Sister, as not to leave her at a time wherein it may be our assistances are but necessary to her. If it be the pleasure of the Gods, that the endeavours of Marcellus and your Brother Alexander prove so effectual, as to bring again to her that unfortunate Prince, who is so worthy her affections, he may and the Princess your Sister also (considering the misfortune whereby he hath lost his Kingdoms, and incurred the displeasure of Caesar as well as yourself) stand in need of our assistances, and be to seek for a place to retire to, and which they cannot with more reason expect to find in any part of the World, then where the brother of Cleopatra ought to Reign. There they may be secure till time shall effect some change of their fortunes, and there it will not haply be impossible for the Son of Juba to put himself into a condition to recover the Throne of his Ancestors, by the assistance he may expect from you. You might proffer the same refuge and entertainment to the Princess of Parthia and Artaban, whose Destiny is not much different from the others, and whom the corrivallship of Caesar's Favourite may force out of Alexandria; and we should both of us think it no small happiness, to meet with so favourable an opportunity to do that for these illustrious persons, which, upon the account of their merit and friendship, we but aught to do.  
Cleopatra had harkened to these words of Candace with abundance of resentment; and Elisa and Artaban, who were not at so great a distance but that they had heard them, were preparing, as well as Cleopatra, to make their acknowledgement to the generous Queen, when Caesaris preventing them, and kissing the Queen's hand with an excessive joy; Ah Madam, (said he to her) how excellently does this reflection suit with your generosity, and how consonant to a desire I durst not discover to you! Were the obligations you have already cast on me capable of any addition, you may well imagine how much they are increased by the tenderness you have for a Sister who is so dear to me, and how much I have desired what it had not been handsome for me to propose, as looking on my condition as the pure effect of your goodness, a goodness I ought not to presume too much upon. 'Tis not Caesario that is to reign; no, his condition will be much more glorious in obeying you, then in having the command of Aethiopia: But he shall not only, with the respect he ought, approve the proffers you make to the Princess of Parthia, the King of Mauritania and the generous Artaban: but spend himself to the last drop of blood, to purchase the enjoyments and settle the Fortunes of any of them: And how impatient soever he may be to see you in a Country where you promise him all happiness, yet will he endure this delay with so much the greater joy, in that the occasion of is so noble and so obliging as to his particular.  
To this discourse of Caesario, Cleopatra added her acknowledgements of the noble proffers of Candace; and Artaban, out of respect, leaving Elisa to speak for their common interest, the two fair Princesses expressed to the Queen how highly sensible they were of an obligation of that nature; and Artaban satisfied Caesario, that the resentments he had for his generous intentions, had wholly exchanged the aversion he sometime had for him, into the highest sentiments of a sincere affection. After Elisa and Cleopatra had vainly opposed Candace's design, and represented to her, though ineffectually, how unjust it were, that out of any consideration of their interests she should any longer continue in the danger whereto she might be exposed by the passion of Cornelius, & run the hazard of discovering Caesario: At last, being constrained to comply with her resolution, they advised with Artaban and Caesario, and agreed to stay certain days, in expectation of some tidings of Coriolanus, either by the return of Marcellus and Alexander, or some other way, as also to see what would become of the love of Agrippa, and the solicitations of the Emperor on his behalf; and that thereupon they would consult what were most convenient to be done, and if they could not otherwise a void it, accept the proffers of Candace, yet not unless forced theretoby necessity; that in the mean time the Princesses should be as little as possible asunder, Cleopatra being confident that Octavia approved the Friendship she had contracted with those two Princesses. And understanding that the Emperor had designed the next day for Hunting, and was to be attended therein by all the Court, they resolved to go all three in the same Chariot, and not to admit, if they could possibly avoid it, any to come to them but their own Women, that so they might have the greater freedom of discourse for all that day. Not but that Cleopatra had the same confidence of the Princess Antonia and Artemisa; but in regard their acquaintance was not great with Elisa and Candace, she was afraid their presence might raise any distrust in them; and they thought things might be thus ordered so much the more easily, in regard they knew the Empress, who in all probability would have entreated Elisa and Candace to take part of her Chariot, had excused herself as not desirous to go abroad the next day.  
This illustrious company was upon these terms, when their Women coming up, told them they had heard some persons walking on the other side of the Hedge, and that it was not unlikely some part of their discourse had been overheard. This Message a little frighted the Princesses, as being troubled they had discoursed of things of that consequence with so little circumspection. However, they hoped no prejudice would happen to them thereby; so that it being very late, and that a longer stay might have been observed by those persons that were concerned in their meeting, they dismissed Caesario and Artaban, and retired to their Lodgings by the same private Stairs whereat they came into the Gardens, after they had given Eteocles order no come the next night and speak with Clitia at another place which they assigned him, it being unlikely Candace could come abroad in that manner several nights together, without giving occasion to the jealous Cornelius to take notice of it.  
This night passed away differently, among the many illustrious persons that were at Alexandria; but there was not any to whom it gave so much satisfaction as to young Arminius, whose condition had been so different some hours before from what it was then: According to the commands of the Princess Julia, he had spent the evening with his amiable Ismenia, of whom he had received all the assurances, and all the demonstrations of affection he could desire of her. He had acquainted her with all his hardships and suffering for her sake, since the time of her absence and she by way of requital had given him a particular account of all her adventures since their separation. She gave him to understand, that after the cruel engagement wherein he had been left among the dead (though she had heard afterwards of his recovery) she fell into the hands of Serranus, the Commander in chief of the Horse under the command of Varus, one who being a Lover of Virtue, and having been insormed by her that she was of a consideraable Family among the Cherusoi, had treated her very civilly, and some days after sent her to Tiberius, with divers other Slaves; that upon the recommendation of Serranus, she had been afterwards very well entertained, though she had still with all possible care concealed her extraction, as not doubting but that upon discovery thereof she should have been returned to Segestes; That she had continued in a City of Pannonia, where the Slaves were kept, till such time as Tiberius was returned from Rome, whither he had ordered them to be sent, and where having been accidentally seen by the Princess Julia, she liking somewhat in her countenance, though by reason of her affliction and neglect of herself, much changed, had begged her of Tiberius; and that having afterwards, in the service she did her, conceived a more than ordinary affection for her, she had treated her so nobly, and after a manner so much different from what is commonly observed towards Slaves, that out of considerations of gratitude and the sincere affection it could not but raise in her towards the Princess, she had acquainted her with her condition, and that immediately thereupon, the Princess had not only set her at liberty, but had entertained her with no less familiarity and friendship then if she had been her Sister, and had not put any difference between her and the greatest Kings Daughters that were brought up among the Romans, but upon her own entreaty, that she would, as being unwilling to be known, and having resolved never to see Germany, if the Gods thought not sit she should enjoy her Arminius again.  
The Prince of the Cherusci had with the greatest sentiments of joy imaginable harkened to the discourse of his Ismenia; and the Princess Julia, having in consequence thereto represented to him, that it would be very hard, after the noise which their adventure had already made, to conceal himself from the Emperor, had engaged him to wait on Augustus the next morning, had offered herself to bring him to him, had assured him he would receive no treatments from him but what were honourable, and in a word, had taken upon her the management of his fortunes, whilst he should continue within the Empire.  
The next morning, the whole Court were expecting the Emperors appearance, except Artaban and Tigranes, both discontented, one in regard of the small satisfaction he had received and hoped from him, the other at his countenancing and promoting the Love of Agrippa. Artaban being a person the least in the world subject to dissimulation, could not be persuaded to appear before Caesar, and so smother the resentment he had within him, and being not in a condition to make any discovery thereof, he chose rather not to come near him; and so went to the King of Scythia, for whom, by reason of his exemplary virtue, and the friendship he had expressed to wards him, he had very great respects. The great Alcamenes received him as a person whom of all men he thought most worthy his esteem, and reiterated to him the proffers he had already made, with so many expressions of a sincere affection, that it was an affliction to Artaban, that he was not in a capacity to make those acknowledgements thereof he could have wished. They were falling into a more private discourse, when Drusus, Ptolomey, Mithridates, and divers other illustrious persons came into the Chamber, and it was not longere it was full by the access of many others, whom the great excellencies of Alcamenes, and the fame of his miraculous actions obliged to wait on him.  
Mean time, the Princess Julia, as soon as she was dressed, took Arminius and Inguiomer along with her to the Emperor, and presenting them to him as the valiant Princes of the Cherusci, whose reputation, though so great Enemies, was so much spread among the Romans, Caesar, notwithstanding the difference of parties, treated them suitably to their Birth and Valour, and entertained them with so much the more respect, as it were to make some reparation for the unworthy treatment they had endured, and the ignominious divertisements they had been put to the day before. He made his excuses to them upon the ignorance of their condition, to which discourse of the Emperors, the Princes made no other answer than that of a blush, which spread over their faces so, as that the Emperor could not but infer, how hard it were for them to forget it. He thereupon took occasion to celebrate their Valour, insisting on certain particulars he had received thereof, and to assure them, that no consideration should prevail with him to treat them otherwise than as if they were his Allics, especially seeing that not long before his Generals in Germany had made a certain Truce with Arminius' Father, and such of his Neighbours as were of his party. The illustrious company then present, and particularly those who had, not without trouble, seen them engaged in the exercises of the day before, entertained them with extraordinary kindness, and received them with all the civility due to so great persons: But they would not by any means see Varus, and though Agrippa spoke to Arminius of it, yet could he not prevail with him to abate aught of the resentment he had against him. Augustus' having designed this day to be spent in Hunting, for the divertisement of those illustrious persons of both Sexes whereof his Court then consisted, gave order that Dinner should be ready before the ordinary time: And immediately after, all things were in readiness, and the Court before the Palace full of Chariots for the Princesses, and Horses for the Princes and other great persons that were to accompany them. The Empress, Octavia, then Queen of Cilicia, and divers other Ladies, who by reason of their age were not for that divertisement, remained in the Palace; and all the rest, by order from Augustus and Julia, who had to that purpose sent them invitations, met in the Court, and were disposed into the Chariots designed for them. Cleopatra having acquainted Artemisa and Antonia with some part of her intention, obliged them to take their places in Julia's Chariot, out of a fear that Princess might entreat Elisa, Candace, or herself to come into it. Olympia was already set by her in it, and the Princess Arsinoe was gotten into another with Andromeda, Urania, and the Princess Ismenia, who was no longer called Cipassis. Martia, Agrippa, and Marcelia, to show their respects and observance of Caesar, were with the fair Terentia; and a great number of other Ladies, illustrious as well for their Rank as Beauties, took up the rest of the Chariots, so that the Princess Cleopatra, Elisa and Candace had the opportunity they so much desired, to go together; and whereas their Chariot had place only for four, they admitted Camilla to take up the fourth.  
They were no sooner all disposed into the Chariots, but the Emperor and all his magnificent Retinue got on Horseback, and leaving the Palace, were gotten without the Gates of Alexandria. Augustus, who, out of his own natural inclinations, as also what he then had for Terentia, was gallant and magnificent, appeared no less that day in his Hunting Apparel: That of Alcamines was rich and sumptuous; that of Agrippa glittered with Gold and precious Stones; those of Philadelph, Ptolomey, Polemon, Archelaus, Mithridates, Crassus, and Lentulus, splended and pompous; but that of Drusus was acknowledged the most accomplished of all those of that illustrious Assembly. Ariobarzanes had upon his, something of the Mourning he was in for the death of the King his Brother; and Artaban, by reason of the disturbances he was in, had purposely omitted all gaudiness as to Apparel, and road on an excellent Horse, which the Scythian King had furnished him withal, as being more remarkable for the comeliness of his person, than he could have been by any exernal ornament. Nor were Arminius and Inguiomer, on whom joy had bestowed countenances much different from what they had some days before, the least observed in that celebrious company; in a word, there never had been, nor haply ever could be seen, any thing comparable to the appearance of so many noble persons as that day went out at the Gates of Alexandria. Cornelius had, by Order from Augustus, caused a spacious Wood, nor far from the place where the unfortunate Tiridates had made his last abode, to be enclosed; and the day proving very fair, and cool enough considering the season; that there were a many beasts within the enclosure they had made, and that the places about were very commodious for the Chariots, because of the many fair and spacious ways which every way crossed the Wood, there was a general expectation of excellent good sport. The Horsemen rode by the sides of the Chariots, according to their different inclinations, as far as the ways permitted them; but if Artaban had for a while the satisfaction to entertain Elisa, before Cleopatra and Candace, who obliged him not to the least reservedness, he had also, not long after, the trouble to have Agrippa for companion on the other side of the Chariot; which he took so unkindly, that neither the great esteem he had for him, or the remembrance of the service he had received at his hands, or a reflection on the authority he had in those places, could hardly make him forbear expressing his resentments with some violence. Ariobarzanes had some discourse with his Olympia, Philadelph with his amiable Delia, Drusus, with the fair Antonia, Archelaus, with the Princess Andromeda, Arminius with his lovely Ismenia, and Caesar himself road a long time by Terentia, displacing thereby Crassus, who entertained her before. This lasted till they came to the place where they had made the enclosure, and where, the Chariots being placed at those passages whence the Ladies might best participate of the divertisement, all the Princes, together with the Emperor, took other ways, and with a certain emulation courted the occasions of signalizing their valour by the death of several beasts. Accordingly, many fell, having the glory to die by the hands of the greatest men in the world: and among those who gained most reputation, Artaban and Alcamines made remarkable discoveries of that admirable valour which had raised them to so noble a fame.  
The Ladies having continued some time in the place where they had been disposed to see the first beginning of the Hunting, were ordered to be conducted to the other side of the Wood, where they were to have a far greater divertisement. The Chariots drove along the ways which crossed the Wood of all sides: and whereas the Princess Cleopatra, Elisa, and Candace had not their thoughts so much taken up with the way they went, as the discourse they were in, they perceived not that the fellow who drove their Chariot, having taken occasion to stay behind till all were passed by, among several ways, took one different from that the other Chariots had taken, which at first seeming only to be somewhat about, but keeping insensibly still upon the left hand, led towards the sea, insomuch that after a short space of time they had lost the sight of all the rest. Camilla, who, as least prepossessed, minded the way more than the three Princesses, first perceived that the Chariot-driver was gotten out of his way, and looking out, she asked him why he had not followed the rest? The fellow made answer, That being of Alexandria, and one that had been several years in the service of Cornelius, he was better acquainted with the several ways of the Wood than any of the rest, that he had taken that as the fairest and most pleasant, and promised them the Chariot should be before any of the rest at the place where they were to meet. The Princesses not suspecting any thing at first, were satisfied with that answer, and gave it the more credit, for that they saw some Horsemen on the left hand, taking as far as they could perceive the same way, and whom they took to be some of their party: But at last thinking it long that they had not all this while overtaken their company; and perceiving the Chariot went on still with as much speed as they could drive, they began to be afraid, and that so much the more upon Candace's reflection that both Chariot & Driver belonged to Cornelius, whom she had reason to distrust in all things. Having the greatest confidence among them, she commanded the Driver to stop, and to let them come out of the Chariot: but he not minding what she said, drove on with such speed, that it was impossible for the Princesses to get out, without some hazard of falling between the Wheels. Then it was out of all doubt with them, that they were betrayed; but if they were as yet in some suspense, they were absolutely satisfied presently after, when they saw the Chariot surrounded by thirty Horsemen, whom they concluded not to be of their number, who belonged to the Emperor, because they were all armed. Elisa immediately suspected the King of Media had some hand in it, he having not been that day in the company, and had not the least jealousy of Agrippa, whom she knew to be of greater Virtue then to engage in such an enterprise: Candace imputed all to Cornelius, though she could not easily conceive he durst be so confident, as to attempt any such thing, in a place where the Emperor was in person; and Cleopatra knew not what to think, or what to fear might be the issue of it, as having imagined herself secure as to any such accident, by the death of Artaxus; but all three joined their cries together, and called to their assistance both Gods and men, in an extremity wherein they thought they stood so much in need thereof? In the mean time the Horsemen kept still close to the Chariot; being the more watchful, to prevent the Princesses from getting out, which they seemed very desirous to do.  
With this detestable Convoy the Chariot kept on still towards the seaside, notwithstanding the cries of the Princesses, and the menaces of Candace and Cleopatra, who to no purpose represented to their Ravishers, what they ought, after such an affront done, fear from the resentment of Augustus; when they perceive at a distance a Horseman in black Arms, enriched with a work of Silver representing little branches, and followed by two others in the nature of Squires. This man moved at the cries of the Princesses, and the spectacle appearing before his eyes, comes to the Chariot, and had no sooner viewed the persons that were in it, and perceived they were carried away by violence, but he resolves to die in their defence, not being in a capacity to prevent the execution of the design. Whereupon speaking to the Chariot-driver, he commanded him to stay as confidently as if he had defied all enemies: and seeing he minded what he said to him so little, that he drove faster than before he took two short Javelins from one of his Attendants, and riding up close to the Chariot, he cast one at the Driver with such force, that taking him in the throat he immediately fell down dead out of his seat; and with the other taking one of the Horses in the head, it proved so effectual, as that after he had curveted a little, and put the rest into disorder, he fell dead in the Harness, and so hindered the Chariot from passing any further,  
Those who commanded the party had no sooner beheld that action, but that very much admiring the confidence of him that had done it, and the madness they were in to see their design retarded in that manner, causing them to forget the Laws of generosity, which upon some other occasion they might have better observed, they rushed in upon him with a set purpose to sacrifice his life to his temerity. He received them with an undauntedness, which raised in them a greater admiration than before, and if he behaved not himself as a person that thought to overcome, he did as one resolved to make the first attempters of his life purchase it at no easy rate. Accordingly having by his own skill and command of his Horse avoided the first shock, he run one between the juncture of his arms into the belly, with such good forune that he immediately fell down dead upon the place, and gave a shock to those who seemed to command the rest, with so much violence, that overthrowing Horse and Man, it was a good while ere he could recover himself again. The fair daughter of Anthony observing what passed, could not but imagine she saw in the person of that undaunted man, something of her faithful Coriolanus, and besides the resemblance there was between their stature and deportment, she thought no other would undertake an engagement upon so unequal terms, and that no other than he could be designed to come as it were upon appointment to rescue her: She immediately communicated her thoughts of it to her two companions, and pointing at him, as he was undantedly going to rush in among so great a number of enemies; There's Coriolanus, said she to them, there he is without all doubt, and it is for him alone that such Adventures are reserved. But if that reflection afforded her some few moments of joy they were immediately attended by the most cruel agitations of grief her soul was capable of, as not able to imagine that the gods had sent Coriolanus to her rescue, without conceiving withal, that his own evil fortune had sent him to his death, Oye Gods, (cried she, with an action full of despair) if it he Coriolanus, as no doubt but it is, I cannot it seems divert the cruel Destiny whereby it is decreed that I should be a spectator of his death. O ye all powerful Gods, (added she) who have not the least compassion for the misfortune of the disconsolate Cleopatra! if there were a necessity this unfortunate Prince should lose his life in my sight, why did you not suffer him to die while I thought him unconstant to me, and not now that I am so well satisfied of his Innocence? Nor indeed was it without reason that Cleopatra was in so much fear for her valiant defender; and besides that it was impossible for any mortal force to stand out against so great a number of enemies, there were some among them, who without any advantage durst engage against the stoutest men in the world; yet had the exasperation they were in so blinded them, that they were going to crush an illustrious life with number, when there comes into the place three Horsemen all armed, from two several ways. He who came alone was followed by two Squires, and the two that came in together had but two between them. All three stood a while to see what passed, and perceiving with admiration, how that a single man feared not the attempts of so many enemies, and immediately desirous to engage in the same design, they set themselves before him, and one of the two that came together very civilly entreated those that seemed to head the party, not to dishonour themselves by endeavouring the death of a single man. We would give him his life as the reward of his valour (says one of the two who seems to command the rest) though by his temerity he hath sufficiently incensed us, if he were not himself so desirous of his own death, and discovered by his so imprudent opposing of our design that he is weary of his life. I oppose your design indeed (replied very fiercely the unknown Defender of the Princesses;) but it is much more out of a respect to the injustice of it, than any aversion I have for life, and all the earth ought to arm itself with me for the rescue of Clepatra. Though the casque he had on disguised his voice, yet did it not hinder but that the words he spoke were understood by those that were near enough to hear them; whereupon the three unknown persons looking about them, no sooner perceived the three Princesses, but joining with their first defender, Take courage, valiant man, (says one of them to him) we will engage with you, nay, if the Gods have so disposed of us, die with you in this quarrel. And immediately drawing their Swords with a miraculous confidence, they made their enemies sensible that Virtue and Valour could not be daunted with number. The first blows they dealt proved mortal to three of the most daring of the contrary party, and thereupon rushing in amongst the rest like men not to be frightened with danger, they convinced their Adversaries, that thought they had such extraordinary odds in point of number, the victory would not prove so easy as they expected. This supply did in a manner turn the scales of the engagement; and he who had received it, finding his party so much stronger than it was, did such things as could not be expected from his valour without the assistance of despair, and such as haply might have gained them the victory, notwithstanding that great inequality, had they been to deal only with number, and that there had not been among their enemies some whose valour was not inferior to that of the most valiant in the world. And this it was that made the danger they were in the greater, and in all probability they were ready to be o'repressed by so unequal a power, when in pursuit of a wild Boar that had broken the toils, there appeared three men who were gotten a great distance before those that were coming after them, and who having changed their design upon sight of that engagement, and approaching the place where it was, were soon known by the Princesses, in regard they had no Arms, on that might any way disguise them, to be Alcamoves, Artaban, and Arminius. The coming in of these three men, whose valour was so well known, raised no small joy and hope in the Princesses, though that of Artaban occasioned some disturbance in Elisa, out of an apprehension of the danger whereto he was going to expose himself; and they on the other side perceiving the three Princesses, whom they immediately knew, thought not fit to lose the least minute in reflecting on the resolution they ought to take. They had only their Swords by their sides, and either of them a Hunting spear in his right hand: but that inequality of Arms they stood not upon, and charging with the same Hunting-spears wherewith they had killed several beasts that day they turned the first they met with to feed on the dust; and employing them against others with the same success, they dispatched many out of the way before they meddled with their dreadful Swords. Artaban fight in sight of Elisa, was the most earnest, as being the most concerned; yet could he not outdo the invincible King of the Scythians, but beheld with astonishment the effects of that valour, which had raised so much admiration in the world. Arminius was not much behind in his performances upon this occasion, insomuch that the four valiant men whom they had relieved, finding themselves fortified by so considerable an assistance, doubled their blows with so much fury, that in a short time the number of the enemies being diminished by the one half, they entertained some hopes of the victory. The principal persons among the Ravishers exasperated at the ill success of their enterprise, did things very considerable; and Artaban imagining, by several marks, he knew one of them to be Tigranes' King of the Medes, made towards him through those that stood in his way; and notwithstanding the Arms he had about him, having given him two wounds with his Sword, and thereby put him into disorder, he gave him so violent a shock, that Horse and Man were both overthrown. He might have gained a more absolute victory over him, had he not scorned it; & he saw that at that same time King Alcamcnes had used another of their Leaders in the same manner, and that he who remained, and who doubtless was the most valiant of the three, enraged at the ill success of his design, was particularly engaged against him who had been the first hindrance of it, and the same whom the Princess Cleopatra still looked on as her Coriolanus. These two men heightened by a suspicion which particularly incensed them one against the other, were gotten from the main engagement, after some blows dealt on both sides, and fought with little inequality, at the distance of about a hundred paces from their companions. The defender of Cleopatra had not engaged in that combat, till such time as he saw there was no danger of her being carried away; and meeting with an enemy more worthy his valour then the others, he slighted, he employed it against him with an ardent desire of victory. He had given him many blows, and had received from him a considerable number of others, which proceeded not from an ordinary strength, when with a backblow he gave him over the head he broke the chin-pieces of his Casque, and thereupon casting his eyes upon his face which was disarmed, he found in it the detestable countenance of his Rival and emplacable enemy Tiberius. This discovery added to his fierceness and indignation; but instead of offering at the Head of Tiberius; who held up his Buckler to defend it, Tiberius (said he to him) I am the Son of Juba, thy Rival, and mortal enemy; I now bring thee a life which thou hast so long sought after; and there is a possibility thou mayst this day satisfy thyself for the wound I gave thee at Rome, and secure Cleopatra, if Fortune prove favourable to thee; But it is not before so many witnesses that our difference can be determined, and to prevent their interposition, let us go a little further to decide it with more freedom, I shall not make use of the advantage I have over thee; and since thou hast lost thy Casque, I will put off mine, and fight with the upon equal terms. With these words, which Tiberius had heard with much patience, he untied the chin-pieces of his Casque, & at king it off his head, he discovered to him the face of Coriolanus. The son of Livia grew pale at the sight, but more out of exasperation than fear, & finding in the Proposition made to him by Coriolanus, what he had been so much desirous of, and what in the present condition he should most have wished, after he had cast, both on the Chariot where Cleopatra was, and his almost defeated companions, a look full of rage and madness, he goes away without making any answer to his enemy, and giving him notice by a sign that he would follow him, went to find out a place more convenient wherein to decide their quarrel. Their impatience and exasperation suffered them not to go very far, so that being come to a place where they thought they should not be interrupted in their design, they turned one against the other, and with a force accompanied with threats, they began to deal hearty blows. They were both careful to secure their disarmed heads with their Bucklers; nay, though they were not overtender of their lives, yet they opposed the Buckler to the Sword by a certain natural address or inclination, and by that means their attempts for some time proved mutually ineffectual. Tiberius was a person of great valour, but one withal who had ever imagined it lawful for a man to mind his advantages any way whatsoever; and thinking it much more upon this occasion then any other, after he had vainly endeavoured to draw blood of his enemy, he in a pass, wherein himself received a wound in the shoulder, watched his opportunity to run his Horse into the breast, and so fortunatly met with the place where it should prove mortal, that the Horse after some resistance, fell down of a sudden with his Master under him, so unhappily, that burdened with his weight, he found, it no easy matter to disengage himself. Tiberius, naturally cruel, and aspiring at a victory that should gain him Cleopaira, put his Horse forward to ride over his enemy, with a design to dispatch him out of the way; but the Horse frighted at that of Cortolanus which lay still struggling upon his Master, notwithstanding all the endeavours of Tiberius, could not by any means come near him. The impatient Son of Livia loath to let slip an occasion so favourable, alights to go and make sure of his enemy and with his Sword ready for the execution went towards him. O whathappiness was it to the fair Cleopatra, that she was not present at that spectacle! and what affliction would it have been to her, to see her dear Coriolanus overthrown, and at the mercy of the cruel Tiberius? He was in a manner persuaded, that nothing could rescue his Rival from death, when he perceives him after much ado got from under his Horse, & coming towards him with an indignation heightened by his fall, such as against which all the strength of Tiberius were likely too weak to make any resistance. Nor was it long erc he made him sensible of it, the provoked Son of Juba continually charging with such blows, as, the Buckler being vainly opposed against them, drew blood from Tiberius in several places, and put him out of all hopes of a victory which not many minutes be fore he thought indisputably his own. However, the rage he was in supplied his strength for a time, notwithstanding the blood he still lost, nay, he was sofortunate, as to see some of Coriolanus' upon his Arms, & to hope, that if he could not overcome, he should in some measure revenge his death: But that satisfaction lasted not long; for soon after, he grew so weak and was so by his Adversary, that staggering backwards he fell down, and had not the strength to rise again. Coriolanus advanced towards him with his Sword, the point up; and coming to him with a menancing outcry, Thou diest, Tiberius, (said he to him) thou diest; or if thou wouldst live, thou must quit all retensions to Cleopatra. The Son of Livia, in whom rage and madness had smothered all desire of life, looking on him with a direful aspect, wherein, notwithstanding his weakness, his arrogance was sufficiently remarkable, Strike, Son of Juba (said he to him) and suffer not to live an Enemy from whom thou hadst received thy death, if Fortune had been less unkind to him: I shall be thy Rival to the last gasp, nor is it the fear of death shall force me quit Cleopatra.  
This discourse of Tiberius raised in Coriolanus a greater esteem for him then all the precedent actions of his life had done; and looking on him with a look wherein appeared nothing of an enemy, Thy example (said he to him) shall not oblige me to give thee thy death, that it may be seen, Tiberius and Coriolanus can make different advantages of their victory, according to their several inclinations. Thou shalt live invincible; and thou shalt live a Servant to Cleopatra; but since thou hast courage enough to dispute her even to death, remember, It is by virtue thou shouldst have gained her, and that artifices and illegal authority are unworthy a person that can prefer death before the shame of being overcome.  
Having spoke those words, which Tiberius heard with an augmentation of grief and jealousy, he was going towards him to give him an assistance he scorned at his hands, when he hears a great noise of Horses, which till then the distance and earnestness of the combat had hindered them from hearing, and thereupon looking about him, he finds himself surrounded by a considerable number of Horsemen, the best part of that illustrious party which came that day out of Alexandria.   
The end of the Eleventh Part.   

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA; OR Loves Masterpiece. Part. XII.  

LIB. I.  
ARGUMENT.  
Augustus sends away Tigranes under a Guard to Alexandria, whither Cornelius is also conveyed by his Friends. Augustus comes to the place where Coriolanus and Tiberius had ended their quarrel. Coriolanus is discovered; the Emperor commands him to be disarmed and taken, which he opposing, he order him to be killed; when comes before him Marcellus, who discovering himself, prevents it; till at last upon the entreaties of Cleopatra he flings away his Sword, and upon the mediation of Marcellus, Alcamenes, Ariobarzanes, Artaban, and all the Princes about the Emperor, his punishment is delayed, and he conducted a Prisoner to Alexandria: One of those three armed men who came in to the relief of Coriolanus in the rescue of the Princesses, is discovered to be Julius Antonius, who had been forced away from Rome six or seven years before by the rigour of Tullia, and is by Marcellus, Ptolomey, and Alexander carried to Cleopatra. The Empress hearing Tiberius was wounded and carried to Alexandria, hastens thither: He is visited by the Emperor, who threatens the ruin of Coriolanus, Cleopatra is visited by all the Princesses. Julius Antonius gives a short account of his Travels. Agrippa makes a further discovery of his passion for Elisa, who expressing her constancy to Artaban, he falls into a Fever, and is visited by Augustus, who solicits both Elisa and Artaban on his behalf. Tigranes is visited by Philadelph, to whom he relates the manner of their Design upon the Princesses, Cornelius despairing of Augustus 's favour, dies, having before written a Letter to him, wherein he discovers Caesario, who is thereupon taken and carried before the Emperor, and by him sent Prisoner to the Castle of Alexander.  
NOr did the Ravishers of the Princesses find Fortune more favourable to them in the other Engagement, but, Number overcome by Virtue, the juster party became victorious. The great King of Scythia, discovering, upon so noble an occasion, that Valour which had made him so famous all over the World, had dealt in a manner as many deaths as blows. The invincible Artaban, fight for Elisa, nay, fight for himself, had shown himself to be the same Artaban, on whose Sword depended the fates of Empires, The valiant Arminius, no less gallant in those emergencies wherein his Glory, then where his Love and the Liberty of his Country were concerned, had performed actions truly miraculous. And their three generous Companions, whose Arms kept their faces from being discovered, though they were not known, had made themselves remarkable as well to those against whom they were engaged, as those who had seconded them in their design, for three of the most valiant men in the world.  
They had already covered the ground with the bodies of their enemies, and had but little further employment for their valour, when the same Fortune which had brought thither Alcamenes, Artaban, and Arminius, led into the same place Agrippa, and Drusus, and not long after appeared the Emperor, with the greatest part of those accompanied him. Upon this sight; what was remaining of the Enemies, hardly put those last come, to the trouble of drawing their Swords, and sought in their flight a safety which it would not be hard for them to find, as having to do with enemies that had no great desires to pursue them. Only one among them, more faithful than his Companions, not daunted at the danger he was in, would not stir from his Master, who was laid along at the Foot of a Tree, by reason of a blow he had received over the head from the dreadful Artaban, and being careful of him out of the affection he had for his service, he quite forgot, in the extremity wherein he saw him, the design he had to conceal himself; and taking off his Casque to give him more air, discovered him to be Tigranes' King of Media. Having been only put into some disorder by the weighty blow he had received on the head, and that the wounds he had in some other parts were not considerable, he recovered himself as soon as he had his head disarmed; and looking all about him, he saw the greatest part of his men laid on the ground, and was thereby satisfied of the miscarriage of his enterprise. The grief he conceived thereat, forced a deep sigh from him; but his affliction became more insupportable when he saw Artaban of the victorious party among the rescuers of Elisa, and called to mind, that it was from his hand he had received the dangerous blow which made him fall among the dead. The rage he was in, hindered him to speak, he only asked the person, from whom he had received that assistance, what was become of Tiberius and Cornelius? and the man, not able to give him any account of Tiberius, showed him Cornelius, who with much ado made a shift to get up after the blow he had received from the King of Soythia, and who, still bleeding, for better support, was forced to lean against a tree. Neither party had the time to make long reflections on their fortune, and the valiant defenders of the Princesses were hardly returned to them, while Agrippa and Drusus, having taken notice of Tigranes and Cornelius, who to breathe more freely had put up the visor of his Casque, were giving order they should be relieved, when Caesar came in with all his glorious attendance and seemed extremely astonished at so strange a spectacle. He saw on one side the three Princesses not recovered out of the fright they had been in, though they had their Champions about them, whereof the three last he soon knew, but not the three former, whom by reason they were all armed he could not have the knowledge of; and on the other, above thirty men either dead or dying of the wounds wherein was remarkable the strength of those arms that had been the occasion of them, and among others Tigranes and Cornelius, whom their hurts, and the grief they conceived at the ill success of their enterprise had made neglectful of concealing themselves, and their engagements in an action, for which they were in all likelihood to fear the effects of his just resentment. He briefly understood from Agrippa some part of what had happened, and desirous of further information from Tigranes himself, after he was come up close to him, yet without alighting, What is it I see, Tigranes, (said he to him) and upon what occasion have you received those wounds? The confusion the King of Media was in, would not for some time suffer him to make any reply; but the Emperor having put the same question to him a second time, I have endeavoured, my Lord, (replied he) to do myself that right which you deny me; and no doubt but my endeavours had proved effectual, if Fortune had not been so much against me. What, (replied Augustus, with a little sally of indignation) would you presume, in my Court, nay, in my sight, to put so unjustifiable an enterprise in execution, and show so little respect to Caesar in a place where you know you are absolutely at his disposal? I have ever, my Lord. (replied the Midian) thought it lawful in any place for me to take my own Wife to me, and that Caesar, notwithstanding his absolute power, could not with reason detain her from me. You have been extremely mistaken in your account, (replied the Emperor) and did I not find you in a condition whereby you are in some measure punished for your temerity, I should make you know, you know, you ought not, upon any right or ground whatsoever, have attempted any thing against a Princess I had into my protection.  
With those words, turning to the Captains of his Guard, he commanded he should be carried to Alexandria, and a strong Guard set upon him: And coming up to Cornelius, who full of rage and confusion durst not look him in the face, And thou (said he to him) Praefect of Egypt, is it thus thou dost behave thyself in thy Charge, and oppose the violences that are committed in the Provinces over which I had entrusted thee? The much grieved Cornelius endured divers other reproaches from his incensed Lord, and at last deriving courage from his despair, and having defied all fear through the rage which then possessed him, My Lord, (said he to him) I am guilty of a miscarriage, but Love hath made greater men than Cornelius commit greater: Take what remains of my life if you think sit, for the expiation of my crime, and assure yourself, that when it is taken from me, the loss will be of a thing I do not value. No doubt (replied Caesar) but thy crime is such as nothing less than death can satisfy for, but thy death is unworthy my displeasure, and not enough to repair the injury thou hast done me; thou shalt if the persons who are concerned in the affront thou hast done me will permit it, but thou shalt live without Honour, since thou hast lost it upon so dishonourable an account, without a Government, which I from this moment dispossess thee of, and without that Friendship where with I have so undeservedly honoured thee  
Whereupon, without any regard what effect his words might produce in the apprehensions of the afflicted Cornelius, whom some of his Friends caused to be conveyed away with Tigranes, he rides up to the Princesses, and by words full of mildness and civility expressed the joy he conceived at the defeat of their enemies, and his resentment for the injury had been offered them in his Court, assuring them, no consideration whatsoever should divert him from doing them justice as they should desire themselves. Cleopatra left her two companions to answer the Emperor, as having her thoughts in no small disturbance upon the sight of Coriolanus, whom she thought she had known; but it became much greater, when the Princess heard several times the name of Tiberius pronounced, and mentioned by some of the wounded, and it was told her, that he went aside from the main engagement, with the valiant unknown person, who first and alone, had undertaken their rescue, and that in all probability they were gone to prosecute with more freedom the Combat they had begun.  
This discourse being made in the presence of Augustus, was no sooner heard by Drusus, but he immediately departs to find out his Brother, and went with a considerable number of his Friends that followed him, towards the place where he thought he might find him. The three valiant unknown persons, who had so gallantly seconded the Son of Juba in the rescue of the Princesses, and who kept at a distance from the Emperor's Retinue, without discovering their faces, departed at the same time upon the same account; and Artaban and Alcamenes, who had observed the prodigious actions performed by him, followed those that went with Drusus, out of an intention to prevent the soul play which might haply be offered that valiant man. Ariobarzanes, Philadelph, and Arminius immediately followed them; whereupon the Emperor perceiving so many going that way, and imagining there there might be somewhat to do on that side, would needs go thither himself, and having left some of his Guard about the Princesses, he got on Horseback, and put forward with such speed, that he soon overtook the most. The Princess Cleopatra, who in those extremities thought not herself obliged any longer to conceal the real affection she had for Coriolanus, conceived she ought not to forsake him in that distress, and so effectually represented to those that were about her, that it highly concerned her to follow the Emperor, that the Officers of the Guard willing to please her, found one to supply the place of the Chariot-driver, and after they had taken out the Horse that was killed, they made a shift with the others to drive on the Chariot after the main body which went before them.  
It was not long ere the Emperor and his illustrious attendance came to the place where the Son of Juba and the Son of Livia had put a period to their combat; and they came up to them, just as Coriolanus, having worsted his enemy, gave him a life he seemed to scorn, & was going to him to help him to get up. Upon the appearance of such a multitude, he would have gotten away, but his own Horse was killed, and that of Tiberius was got into the Wood far enough from the place he was in. And as it would have been hard for him to get away on foot from so many men on Horseback, so was it as much out of his power to conceal himself, having his head disarmed, and his face bare. He therefore soon resolved on what was to be done, and leaning with his back to a tree, at the distance of some few paces from the place where Tiberius was fallen, stood with his Sword in his hand, and his face turned to those that were coming towards him, in the posture of a man whose courage was not to be daunted by any kind of danger. He immediately knew the Emperor; but his presence, which upon a more fortunate occasion had not been able to frighten him, caused not in him so much as a change of his countenance, though it came upon him at a time when he had so little desire of life; and though he seemed to be not far from the period of it, yet would he expect the utmost with a resolution worthy the greatness of his Soul and past actions. Drusus was the first that came near him; but though he loved his Brother so well as that he would have endeavoured to revenge him, though with the hazard of his life, yet finding his enemy in such a condition as that he could not do it with Honour, he made a sudden halt, as it were to consider what he should do, and it coming in his mind that Friendship obliged him no less to relieve his Brother then to revenge him, he fastened on that which was most honourable and most lawful, and alighting; he goes to Tiberius whose loss of blood continued still by reason of the many wounds he had about him.  
But if this accident had raised an astonishment in Drusus and all that were present, that which the Emperor conceived was greater than that of any of the rest, and put him for some time into such a posture as added to the admiration of all those that were about him. On the one side, he saw the Son of Livia, for whom he had those respects and compliances, as occasioned the report all over the Empire, that he divided the Sovereign authority with her) lying along at the foot of a tree with several wounds about him; through which it was to be feared his life might leave him with his blood; and on the other, not many paces from him, the enemy had put him into that condition, but the same enemy, who having trampled on his Authority even in Rome itself, and reduced the same Tiberius to a condition sad, as that wherein he then saw him, had raised two great Kingdoms against him, had forced them from his Jurisdiction, with the loss of so many Million of men, who was the only person had checked the progress of his requests, and that fortune which had made him Master of the Universe, and who, even when he was thought lost and ruined in his misfortunes, was come again with the same pride and insolence, not only to present himself before him, but in his sight to be the death of a Son of the Empresse's, a Prince he looked on as his own. This consideration and all these reflections forcing themselves upon the Emperor's thoughts wrought on his spirits with so much violence and precipitation, that he was not able to repress the impetuosity thereof, or contain himself within any limits of moderation. His displeasure broke forth at first with a certain joy, and looking up towards heaven in a posture dreadful to behold: I acknowledge your justice, you divine Powers, cried he, since you bring under my power this insolent African, who with so much scorn defiedit; and when I was out of all hopes to punish him for his enormous crimes, you are pleased he should deliver himself up to my justice, and appear before me in a condition, and covered with a blood, which leaves not any thing for lenity to urge on his behalf. Let him be taken, continued he, turning to the Officers of his guard, and loaden with chains; conveyed to a Dungeon, to be brought thence to the punishment I intent him.  
Augustus was a person admirably kind to his Friends, and good to his Subjects, and governed all with such mildness as made them look on him rather as a Father then a Sovereign: But if he were a good Emperor and a good Friend, he was on the other side an implacable Enemy, and in all the progress of those Wars, whereby he had raised himself to that height, he had never pardoned any one of his Enemies. Upon this consideration, all those that were about him conceived, that without something of miracle there was little hope of life for Coriolanus. The more virtuous could not forbear deploring his misfortune with all the discoveries of a real grief, and the most considerable among them, as the King of Scythia, Agrippa, the King of Armenia, and divers others resolved to employ all manner of persuasion to appease the Emperor's wrath; but they thought it unseasonable to attempt any thing till the first erruptions of his violence were over. Only Coriolanus seemed unmoved at the danger which made that illustrious company tremble for him, as well out of the natural greatness of his courage, as the addition it might have received from his despair. Insomuch, that when, in pursuance of the Emperor's command, the Officers of the Guard went to him, and demanded his Sword, My Sword (said he, looking scornfully on them) never leaves me but with my life; and since I am to expect nothing less than death, 'twere better for me to lose my life while I defend it, then reserve it for an ignominious punishment. And perceiving those words deterred not some of the more daring from coming nearer to disarm him, he gave the most forward of them a blow over the head, which made him fall at the feet of his companions with a deep wound.  
Caesar was so much incensed at that action, that being at a loss of all patience and moderation, and discovering in his sparkling eyes, the indignation he was transported with, Kill him, cried he, kill him, and that without any further delay. Whereupon Alcamenes, Arippa, Ariobarzanes, Artaban and others, in whom the greatest actions of the son of Juba had raised a love and veneration for him, came before the Emperor, entreating him with the greatest earnestness and importunity possible, to moderate his displeasure, and to give them the hearing but of some few minutes, but their intercession proved ineffectual, and Augustus' rage being more inflamed by that opposition reiterated the commands he had given his guard to kill the African Prince, and upon this last peremptory order the points of hundreds of swords and javelines being turned against him, he would soon have lost his life if a horseman all armed had not stepped before him, and exposed himself to the thrusts and blows would have been made at made at him. He was soon observed by Alcamenes, Artaban, and Arminius and known to be one of the three valiant men who before their arrival and in their company had fought so courageously, in defence of the Princesses, but having taken off his Casque, which he hastily snatched off his head, he was known by the Emperor, for him who of all the world, was most dear to him, his beloved Marcellus. Turn, (said he, discovering himself) turn against me only the points of your swords, and find a passage through my body to life of my Friend. The Emperor's guard had that respect for Marcellus, that of so many Arms as were up to give Coriolanus his death, there was not one which drew not back upon sight of that darling of the Romans: Nay, the Emperor himself was upon the first apprehension so astonished at it, that he knew not what to think of it, as being in suspense between the different passions he struggled withal. No doubt it was an excessive joy to him to see the face of a Prince, dear to him as his own life; but it could not withal but add to his rage, to find a Prince, who should be sensible of his interests as himself, so earnest in the defence of his enemy, and that one against whom ever since the unworthy trick put upon him by Tiberius, he had thought him sufficiently exasperated. It was some time ere he was able to express what it was that troubled him, and at last he having found out terms whereby to discover his thoughts; What Marcellus, (said he to him) do you defend against me the life of an enemy, that hath proved so unworthily false to you, and one into whose breast upon the account both of your interest and mine, you should rather sheathe your sword. I shall my Lord, (replied the Prince) rescue the life of this enemy with the hazard of my own; nay though I should lose it to purchase his safety, I shall not have made sufficient reparation for the crime I have committing in persecuting a faithful friend with so much cruelty and injustice. I know the respect I owe my Sovereign permits me not to lift up my sword to oppose the execution of his Orders, but neither does it forbid me to present my breast to the cruelweapon that threatens the life of my friend. But canst thou be so ungrateful (replies the Emperor) as to call him thy Friend who is a mortal enemy to Caesar, and canst thou be so much wanting to resentment, as to bestow the name of Friend on a man that hath so basely overreached thee? He is enemy to Caesar, (replied Marcellus) upon no other ground than that of his misfortune, nor hath he been mine but upon the artifices and treachery of another, and my own misapprehensions. Time will give you a fuller account of things, if you will, upon the intercession of Marcellus, but defer for a while what you have resolved with so much heat and precipitation. Thy ingratitude replies the Emperor) makes thee unworthy the favour thou desirest, and therefore flatter not thyself with a hope I will for ever grant thee the life of this barbarous man, though I delay an execution which he ought not to suffer in the presence of so many Illustrious persons.  
With which words he renewed the commands he had before given his guard to take him alive; but the valiant son of Juba, to whom the death that was before his eyes would have been more acceptable than that he was designed to, and understood not what submission was while he had a sword in his hand, once more presented the dreadful point of it to those who offered to come near him, and by that resistance would have changed the intentions of Caesar, and drawn a hundred weapons against his breast, when the Princess Cleopatra being come to the place, and got out of the Chariot, appeared to him through the Guards, and speaking to him so as that the Emperor and all the illustrious persons there present might hear: Coriolanus, said she to him, be not so obstinate as to be killed in my sight if you love me, and deliver up to fortune and the desires of Cleopatra, a sword which cannot maintain your life any longer. It is in the power of the Gods and men to do yet something in order to your safety, and if their indignation be such as that we cannot have their assistance, I will condescend you shall die when it cannot be avoided, and I shall be able to follow you to assure you of the affection I have for you. O what a kind of influence had these words of the admirable Cleopatra on the apprehensions of Coriolanus, and how powerful were they upon a resolution which no fear could shake. All the fierceness that sparkled in his eyes of a sudden withdrew itself; and becoming no less submissive, than some minutes before he had appeared terrible: Ah Madam (said he to her) I shall without the least repugnance obey you, and submit to the chains and death prepared for me, to express my compliances and fidelity to you to the last gasp.  
Having so said he cast away his sword, which an Officer of the guard took up, and with a countenance wherein was not observable the least disturbance, he told him, That wherever he would carry him, he was ready to follow. During this time was Marcellus doing his submissions to Caesar, whom through all his indignation he still considered as his Father, and in which action he was seconded by the two Cavaliers who had fought with him against those who would have carried away the Princess, who having taken off their Casques discovered their faces to all the Company. One of the two was immediately known to be Alexander, though he had not been seen even by any of those with whom he was most intimate, since his departure from Rome into Germany, whence he had passed into Armenia: But the other was not so easily, though there were divers imagined upon the first sight that they knew him, and recollected themselves to find out who it should be, through the alteration which some years had made in his countenance. And though the comeliness of his person was such as might draw the eyes of all upon him, yet was he not considered with that earnestness, as haply might have been done at a time when the company were more free from disturbance and the thoughts of all were so full of the misfortune happened to Coriolanus, that they could not think of any thing else. All the entreaties were made to the Emperor on his behalf, prevailed nothing upon him, and though it were expected the intercession of Marcellus should have proved effectual, and that he should do something upon that of the great King of Scythia, whose virtue he so much admired, yet all they could obtain at his hands, was that upon their entreaties he would put off the punishment he intended him for some time, but that nothing should be able to divert him from making him an example, such as was but necessary for the establishment of his Empire and Authority. Whereupon having entreated all those that were about him not to press him any further as to that business, he took his way towards Alexandria, whither his guard was conducting Coriolanus, and where Drusus had caused Tiberius to be conveyed, riding by him with all the demonstrations of a hearty affliction.  
All the Illustrious Assembly knowing Augustus to be of a nature as implacable during the time of his displeasure, as easy to be prevailed with, when otherwise, road along in great silence, and there were few who expressed not a more than ordinary grief at the misfortune of so great a man as Coriolanus. Alcamenes, who had understood the noble actions of his life, and had a particular veneration for the Princess Cleopatra, could not smother the affliction he conceived thereat. The King of Armenia, the Prince of Cilicia, the Kings of Cappadocia, Pontus, and Conagenas who had known and admired him at Rome, when he appeared there with so much reputation and applause; Agrippa, Maecenas, Crassus, Lentulus, and divers other Illustrious Romans, who could not have the knowledge of him, without a love and respect to him, were extremely cast down at this accident. But next to Marcellus, who concerned himself above all others in it, there was not one in all that noble Assembly more sensibly moved at that unhappy Adventure, than the generous Artaban, as well out of the love he naturally had for Virtue, as for that he had conceived for the person of Juba's Son, during the small time they had lived together in Tiridates' House. He knew, sufficiently to his grief, by what the Emperor had already done against him to oblige Agrippa, that the credit he had with him was too weak, to hope his mediation might prevail any thing with him: and being a person of a disposition that could not brook an unjust Authority, or with any patience endure the oppression of a Tyrannical power, he was not able to forbear repining, to see a Prince so great both for his birth and Virtue, exposed, through his unhappiness, to the cruelty of a man, who, justly considered, was inferior to him in all things, and had no advantage over him, but what he derived from his Fortune. The reflections he made on that injustice were as so many Arrows in his breast, insomuch that he would have exposed his life to the greatest dangers, to rescue that Prince out of the power of his Enemy. He discovers his thoughts to King Alcamenes, whose sentiments were wholly conformable to his; nor could both of them forbear expressing to Marcellus what they suffered upon the misfortune of his Friend.  
Mean time, the valiant person who with Marcellus and Alexander had fought in defence of the Princesses, road on with the rest, and added to the general astonishment, that he was in himself, at his not being known among those persons, among whom he had been brought up, and spent the greatest part of his life. He pardoned that irreflection in Alexander and Marcellus, who, by reason of the grief they were oreburthened with, had hardly taken notice of him; but he could not excuse Crassus who had been his particular Friend, nor Lentulus and some others who were of his own age; and he was considering what reproaches he should make them at Alexandria, where he might more seasonably discover himself, when Crassus, looking on him with greater earnestness than he had done before, picked out of the ancient Ideas of his countenance, through the chance with six or seven years might have wrought in it; and coming to him with an action discovering his surprise. Am I to distrust the faithfulness of my eyes, (replied he) or is it possible that I see Julius Antonius. These words spoken by Crassus loud enough, caused all the Assembly to turn their eyes on the stranger, and all those who had been of acquaintance with Julius Antonius, looking on him with an earnestness suitable to their former familiarity, were satisfied he was the Son of Anthony and Fulvia, forced from Rome by the rigours of Tullia, and of whom there had not been any thing heard since his departure thence. The name of Julius Antonius went from one to another all through the company, till at last the Emperor, who had much esteemed that Prince both for his birth and virtue, hearing of it, made a halt, and turning towards the side where he was, asked for him, and made him quit the embraces of divers of his Friends, to come to him. Antonius having disengaged himself, comes up to Augustus, and would have alighted to salute him with more submission, when the Emperor prevents him, and embracing him with all the discoveries of a tender affection, he satisfied him, that his long absence had not remitted ought of the esteem he had for him. He wondered, as well as the rest, that he had not known him at first sight, though that between the age of the twenty or one and twenty years, whereof he was at his departure from Rome, and that of twenty eight, which he was then arrived to, his countenance had received a very considerable change; and after he had several times renewed his caresses, more than could have been expected from him in the humour he was then in, What Antonius, (said he to him) after we had lost you at Rome, we find you at Alexandria, and that inexorable Tullia, who forced you from us, hath not done so great a mischief as we would have charged upon her. That cruel Tullia, my Lord, (replies Antonius) hath been much my torment since my departure; but through the assistance of the Gods and my own resistance, I have overcome her tyranny, and return with a soul wholly disengaged, to do those things which may be expected from me upon the account of my Duty, or to serve my Friends. While he was speaking, Caesar looked on Lentulus, smiling; and Lentulus, though much pleased with the discovery he had heard, could not forbear blushing. Antonius observed it, and that accident might have produced something more than ordinary, if at the same time Ptolomey and Alexander, having heard the name of Antonius, had not been come up to see that Brother of theirs, and the Emperor thought it but just to resign him to their embraces and gratulations upon so fortunate an Adventure. Though Antonius had left his Brothers at the age of fourteen or fifteen years, yet knew he them assoon as they were come near him, calling him by the name of Brother; and he received those two Princes, and returned them those caresses which discovered the excellent nature of them all. He used the same compliments to Marcellus, who came up to him with a like affection, and who out of his own inclination, and upon the desires of Octavia, looked on all the Children of Anthony as Brothers and Sisters.  
After they had disburdened themselves of whatever a tender affection could inspire them with upon so unexpected a return, and that all the Kings and Princes that were about the Emperor had saluted Antonius, as out of a respect of his birth and the reputation of his virtue they conceived themselves obliged, Alexander and Ptolomey would needs carry him to Cleopatra, whom Marcellus had set into her Chariot by Elisa and Candace, imagining with some reason, that of the affliction she then was in, she could not receive a greater alleviation than by so unlooked for a recovery. The incomparable Daughter of Anthony was set between her two Friends; and conceiving, that after the action she had then done, whereby she had made so public a declaration of her affection to Coriolanus, it was vain to pretend to reservedness, or to suppress her grief, she gave herself over thereto in such manner, that notwithstanding all her constancy, she could not forbear making those discoveries thereof, which would have been but pardonable in a much weaker person. Her tears trickled down, without any opposition, from her fair eyes upon the cheek of Candace, whose face joined to hers; and whereas that fair Queen, and the excellent Princess of the Parthians, thought her grief too justifiable to condemn it, and too violent to be opposed in its first eruptions, they were content to accompany with their tears those of that Divine Princess, and to satisfy her by their kisses and tender embraces, what their tongues could not express of their being concerned in her afflictions.  
This posture was she in when the three Brothers came to the Chariot, and Marcellus, who was gotten a little before them, coming up first to her, and having made a sign to the Driver to hold, Sister, (said he, approaching her, and perceiving her all in tears) Distrust not the Gods, and out of the confidence you have in me, moderate your grief, if you possibly can, and assure yourself, before the misfortune you so much fear happens, and which I am equally concerned in with you, you shall see Marcellus ruined, and great revolutions in the Empire. And if Marcellus perish (replied the disconsolate Princess) will it be any ground of comfort to the unfortunate Cleopatra! He will not perish (replies the Son of Octavia) ere he hath done that which may haply prove effectual in order to the safety of his Friend. What ere may be the issue of it, Sister, hope for my sake a happy revolution in your Fortune, and receive for an earnest, what you cannot but think happily ominous, the recovery of a good you gave over for lost, and which the Gods restore you this day to give you a comfort in some measure proportionable to your grief.  
These words obliging Cleopatra to look about her, she sees Antonius, Alexander and Ptolomey on the other side of the Chariot, where they were alighted with a considerable number of their Friends, who were loath to part with Antonius so soon, after they had so unexpectedly met with him: But the disturbance she was in would not have suffered her to have known him so suddenly, if his deportment and the words of Marcellus had not obliged her to look attentively on him, and afterward the accent of his voice, and the name Sister pronounced by him, had not fully satisfied both her eyes and knowledge. Certain it is, that howe'er she might be orepressed with a cruel affliction, she was sensible, as she ought to be, of a happiness so much beyond expectation; and as she had had for the blood and merit of Antonius the highest considerations he could expect from her at the age wherein she lost him; so could she not see him again at a time when she was more capable of a just esteem and a greater earnestness of affection, without giving him all the assurances thereof which might be expected from her upon the like occasion. After she had begged the pardon of the two Princesses, she embraced him several times, and mixing some tears of joy with those which grief forced from her, she spoke to him with the greatest tenderness and passion could be expected from a most affectionate Sister, in her condition: And after Antonius had answered her with a like affection, but with much less disturbance of thoughts, she presented him to the two Princesses, only telling him their names, to mind him of the respects due to them.  
Antonius saluted them with the greatest submission imaginable, and the Queen and fair Princess of the Parthians, having returned him what they thought due to the Son of one with whom Caesar had divided the Empire of the Universe, a Prince of great excellencies, and Brother to Cleopatra, whom they loved so dearly, looked on him further as their deliverer, and knew him by his Arms to be that gallant man, who with Marcellus and Alexander, had so courageously relieved the King of Mauritania. They made to him and his two valiant companions, the greatest acknowledgements that could proceed from Gratitude, and would have said something further to them, had they not perceived coming towards them, Alcamenes and Artaban, to whom they were upon the same account obliged, and at no great distance from them, Agrippa, with the King of Armenia, the Prince of Cilicia, and divers others, who were coming to compliment them upon the accident that had happened to them. The three Princesses thanked the King of Scythia and Artaban for their assistances; but in regard the latter was concerned in the business, the acknowledgements were not made so much to him, as to the King of Scythia; nor indeed did he expect any for a service he had done himself, though his generosity would have led him to do the same with no less courage, to persons he had not known.  
While the Chariot was surrounded by these illustrious persons, there came in sight those of the Empress, Julia, and all the other Princesses, coming back from the places where they had been disposed to see the Hunting, and in the road upon their return to Alexandria. Livia had had some uncertain account of the accident had happened to the three Princesses, and she was so much moved thereat, as to think herself obliged to stay their coming up to them; but having also heard some talk of the wounds of her Son Tiberius, and that she was satisfied he had not received them upon any other score than that of Cleopatra, she made all the speed she could towards Alexandria. Julia stayed behind, and causing her Chariot to stay by that of the three Princesses, she assured, the most obligingly that could be, and with much earnestness, how much she had been troubled at what had happened to them: And after she had on the other side expressed her satisfaction at the defeat of their enemies, she bemoaned Cleopatra for the misfortune of Coriolanus, and very affectionately proffered all the services she thought a Daughter might do her with a Father.  
But while she was thus employed, there comes to the other side of her Chariot, a man, who taking her by the hand, kissed it; and going to draw it to her, looking on the man with some surprise, she knew him to be Prince Marcellus. Julia was of a disposition not so subject to astonishment as those of many others, and was the less startled at the sight of Marcellus, for that Cleopatra had assured her of his return, and his being not far from Alexandria. It happened that at that time she truly loved him, and was not a little glad at his return, though she had patience enough to endure the absence of a Lover, whose presence obliged her some reservedness; but in regard his departure had displeased her, and that upon the jealousy which had occasioned it, he had left her, and undergone a long journey, without taking leave of her, she thought there was some reason she should make him sensible of her resentment thereof. To which end, snatching away the hand he was kissing, and looking on him coldly, and with a scornful smile, I am very much obliged to you for your remembrances, (said she to him) I was afraid you would not have known me after so great travels. Greatest of Princesses, (said Marcellus to her) be pleased to pardon the miscarriages which my passion only hath made me guilty of, and be persuaded I am much more to be pitied in my misfortunes then to be reproached therewith. It is from yourself (replied the Princess) that proceeds the greatest part of your misfortunes, and it is happy for you many times, to have to do with such a disposition as mine, that is such as can bear with those things, which others would not think so easily digestible. The Princess Cleopatra, who was present at this conversation, and, notwithstanding what at that time burdened her thoughts, desirous to do Marcellus all the favour she could, preventing his reply, as being unwilling Julia should have left him in the humour into which the beginning of that discourse might have put him; Madam (said she to her) let me entreat you, not to charge Prince Marcellus with any thing further, till you have heard him, and to assure yourself upon my engagement, that he is not chargeable with any thing so much, as the offence of having loved you with some little excess of violence. That violence (replies Julia, with a more appeased countenance) might have produced effects that were more supportable; but howe'er the case may stand, this is not a place to press things any further, and you know I have that confidence of you, as in some measure to be persuaded to what you would have me.  
The place where this conversation happened, and the coming up of all the other Chariots, endeavouring to get near that of Cleopatra, permitted them not to continue it any longer; so that after Antonius and Alexander had saluted Julia, who received them with much civility, all the Princes got on Horseback, and road by the Chariots till they came to the Gates of Alexandria. But all had not equal advantages; for if Ariobarzanes, Philadelph, and Arminius had the opportunity to speak to Olympia, Arsinoe and Ismenia, Artaban and Agrippa mutually envied one another the discourse of Elisa. For Prince Marcellus, he had the liberty to entertain Julia, without any interruption, and in regard all had a respect and affection for him, and that his pretensions were known and countenanced by all, and by the Emperor above any, there was not any one to disturb him in the conversation he had with the Princess; and he made that advantage of it, that before they were come to the City, he was assured of a reconciliation with her, and that he should be as much in her favour as ever he had been.  
It was almost night ere this illustrious company got to Alexandria; but that return was much different from their departure: And as there were few who were not in some measure troubled at, or concerned in what had happened that day, all went to their Lodgings with much distraction and melancholy; nay, even the most fortunate, such as Ariobarzanes, Philadelph, and Arminius, neither durst nor could enjoy themselves; and though they passed away the evening with their Princesses, yet was all their discourse concerning the misfortune of Coriolanus, and affliction of Cleopatra. The Empress went immediately to those Lodgings whither Drusus had caused Tiberius to be conveyed, where finding that Son of hers whom she loved, and highly esteemed upon the account of relation, and the many excellent endowments whereof he really was Master, laid on a bed, with several great wounds about him, such as much endangered his life, and all aggravated by a grief and confusion that his design had proved so unsuccessful, a reflection no less prejudicial to his recovery, than the wounds he had received from his enemy; all that greatness of mind she naturally had, was not able to exempt her from the assaults of a violent affliction, and after she had several times embraced that beloved Son, and bathed his face with the abundance of her tears, she sat down by him, and continued in that posture a good while, not able to speak one word to him. Tiberius' looked on her with a countenance wherein was remarkable the indignation and discontent he was in, and endeavouring to suppress both, to speak to a Mother that had so much affection for him, Madam, (said he to her) Let me entreat you not to afflict yourself for a Son who hath been far from deserving all this tenderness from you. I deserved in some measure the misfortune that'ts happened to me, by engaging myself in an enterprise nothing but my passion can excuse; and Fortune whom I have ever found favourable in those occasions that were honourable, hath opposed me in this with justice. Be not frighted at my wounds, I have, in my life, received such as have been much more dangerous; and be pleased to employ that goodness you express to me, to purchase me the pardon I am to beg of the Emperor, for an action that derogates from his Authority, and the respect due to him. The Emperor (replies Livia) will be sooner appeased than you recovered of your wounds, and the trouble he conceives at these, argues him not to be much incensed against you. All his wrath, as far as I can understand, is bend against your Adversary, and if the hope of revenge may give you any satisfaction in your misfortune, it shall not be long ere you have all the comfort you can, upon that score, expect.  
Though Tiberius was a person remarkable for a malicious and cruel inclination, yet had he withal a certain greatness of mind; and though his present resentment might induce him to wish the ruin of his Enemy, yet reflecting on his late generous proceeding towards him, he durst not desire it; and with that consideration looking on the Empress. I have had (said he to her) upon many occasions, reason to wish the death of Coriolanus, and this affront I have received from him is no doubt more insupportable to me then all the rest: But besides the justice he had this day of his side, I remember it was in his power to have taken away my life, which yet out of an excess of generosity he would not do, though I refused to accept it at his hands; and his carriage hath been so noble towards me, that I cannot with any honour desire to be revenged of him. Drusus, who was present at this discourse of Tiberius, heard it with much satisfaction, as finding him inclined to those sentiments which he had wished in him: But Livia's thoughts ran in another Channel, though she had a soul much above her Sex; and fastening her consideration more upon the wounds of her Son, and the danger wherein she found him, then on the generosity of his Adversary, If it be not honourable for you (said she to him) to press your own revenge, I shall do it for you, and what would not be glorious in you, will no doubt be such in a Mother, and a Wife to the Emperor.  
While they were in this discourse, the Surgeons coming in, searched the wounds of Tiberius, and found such as were great enough to raise a distrust, but not to take away all hope of his recovery. Tiberius suffers himself to be dressed, and heard the consultation of the Surgeons with much courage, and in all his deportment there appeared much more rage and confusion for his misfortune, than fear of death by his wounds. He was hardly quite dressed ere his Chamber was full of such as came to visit him, whereof some were really his Friends, others such as the respects they had for Livia obliged to that compliance. Not long after, came thither the Emperor himself, though the resentment he had for Tiberius' enterprise had a while held him in suspense whether he should do him that honour or not; and certainly, had his condition been otherwise, he would have made him sensible of his displeasure, rather than visited him: But considering the posture he was in, he conceived he ought to remit somewhat of it, as having withal for Livia a tenderness and respect too great to forbear the discoveries thereof upon that occasion. She was accordingly much pleased to see him come into the Room; and he was no sooner sat down, but she joined her solicitations to the entreaties of Tiberius, to obtain his pardon for an offence which she absolutely imputed to that passion, upon the account whereof it might be thought excusable, or at least by which they endeavoured to make it appear such. Augustus' heard them with much patience; and at last addressing his discourse to Livia, Madam, (said he to her) you know your own omnipotence; and though the injury I have received from Tiberius be in itself very great, yet is it in your power to oblige me to quit all thoughts of it; and you are to assure yourself that the resentment I have of the affront he hath done me, is much below the affliction I am in for the inconveniencies he hath run himself into thereby. Contribute therefore (continued he, speaking to Tiberius, after he had been informed of the nature of his wounds) all you can to your own recovery, and since you are reduced to this condition by our common Enemy, remit to me the execution of our common Revenge.  
Livia gave not Tiberius the time to reply, and rejoining to the Emperor's discourse, My Lord, (said she to him) Tiberius is so generous as not to desire any revenge on his enemy, but by such ways he conceives more honourable: But for me, who am a woman, who am his Mother, and who have the honour to be Wife to Caesar, I suppose I may with honour demand justice of you against an African, who by ways less honourable, put him once before into the condition wherein we now find him, and one from whom you yourself have received such extraordinary affronts, as if I were not mother to Tiberius, yet as Wife to Caesar, I ought to press the revenge due to them. Take you no further thought of it, (replies Augustus) and assure yourself, that no entreaty, no consideration whatsoever shall divert me from doing exemplary justice upon him. Whereupon understanding that the wounded person stood in need of rest, and was to forbear all discourse, he left the Room, taking all those who were come thither upon visits along with him.  
Drusus stayed with him after all were gone, and of all the men that were in Alexandria, he was the most at a loss how to behave himself. He had a great affection for his Brother, though he were inclined to some things he could not but disapprove; and he also well understood that consideration of Honour which engaged him in all his interests, so as to embrace and prosecute them with all the earnestness of a generous and affectionate Brother: But he was also in love with the Virtue of Coriolanus, whom he saw in Chains, and reduced to a condition that required his compassion much rather than his resentment; he had a particular respect and veneration for the Princess Cleopatra, and had as fervent an affection as heart was capable of for the fair Antonia, her Sister: So that as a servant to Antonia, as a Friend to Cleopatra, and as a person generous and full of virtue, he could neither solicit nor with the death of Coriolanus; and as brother to Tiberius, and Son of Livia, he could not endeavour his deliverance. He accordingly took the mean between these two extremes, and doing those things his duty obliged him to, his wishes were still consonant to his own virtuous inclinations, and the design he had undertaken to appease Livia as much as lay in his power, so as not to be thought of a party contrary to that of his Brother and his House.  
The same night, the Princess Cleopatra was visited by most of the Princesses and other Ladies of quality that were in Alexandria, and whereas she had a strange command over the respects and affectious of all that knew her, there were many among them who observed not the circumspection they should have done to prevent their disobliging of Livia upon that occasion. Julia came thither in person, and with her Prince Marcellus, who had made his peace with her, and on whom, as she told him, she was loath to exercise any further rigour, as finding him too much cast down at the misfortune of Coriolanus to need any aggravation of his affliction. The virtuous Octavia came thither with the first, and had not been wanting upon that occasion to assure Cleopatra, that she looked on her as her Daughter, and that she would be as free of her sollications to serve Coriolanus, as she could be for Marcellus, were he reduced to the same extremities. Cleopatra had given her an account of the innocence of that Prince, and acquainted her with the Artifices of Tiberius, as she had received the relation thereof from Volusius. So that that generous Princess having restored the Prince of Mauritania to the same place in her affections she had formerly allowed him, prepared to join her interest with that of all her Friends, to counterbalance, on his behalf, the power of Livia. Her receptions of Julius Antonius was such, as that he could not but be satisfied, that the children of Anthony were no less dear to her then her own; and she had expressed no less joy at his return, then at that of Marcellus. Finding herself somewhat indisposed, she retired the sooner to her own lodgings; the Princesses her Daughters staying with Cleopatra, to accompany Julia, Elisa, Candace, Artemisa, Prince Marcellus, Agrippa and Cleopatra's three Brothers; Julia who naturally hated sadness, would needs change the discourse: which till then had been altogether concerning the accidents of that day into some other of a different nature, and turning to Prince Marcellus and Antonius, whom all entertained as a person newly revived: Me thinks, (said she to them) it might be expected from you both, that you should give us some account of your Travels, and you especially (said she to Julius Antonius) who in all probability, must needs in the space of seven or eight years have run through some memorable adventures, and I think there are not any other persons whom you should be more willing to acquaint therewith, than those here present, nor that there can be a time wherein such a discourse might be more seasonable than it may be now, to divert the melancholy of your sister and friends.  
Antonius perceiving the Princess addressed herself particularly to him, thought himself obliged to return her some answer, and looking on her with an action full of respect; 'Tis very certain Madam (said he to her) that there are not any in the world to whom I conceive myself obliged to give an account of my life, than the person I now have the honour to speak to, and I shall accordingly when you please to command it, acquaint you with all hath happened to me, since my departure from Rome, but you will give me leave to tell you, not out of any design to exempt myself from that Relation, that my Discourse will not afford any thing that were pleasant or divertive, that I shall only let you know, that having left Rome, through the violence of an insupportable passion; I have struggled with that passion for the space of five or six years, opposing it with my reason, my resentments, and all I could fortify myself with against it, and that at last after incredible sufferings, I have got the victory over it, in such manner that I find myself in a condition to see again that inexorable person without any disturbance. I shall tell you, that I have traveled unknown, and changing my name with every Country I came into, into Germany, and all through Europe, up as far as Byzantium, where I crossed over into Asia, which I have visited all over; that I have seen Cappadocia, Cilicia, Armenia, Media, Mesopotamia, Pamphilia, and divers other Kingdoms, shifting still into those Countries where I heard there was any thing of War stirring, having been egaged in many occasions, wherein if I may say it with modesty, though a stranger, I might have acquired a more than ordinary reputation, if I had not changed name as often as I did places, or had other designs then that subduing that cruel passion which was such a torment to my soul, by putting myself upon all the employments I thought likely to produce that effect: but in all this Discourse, I shall not have a word to say of any amorous adventure, nor indeed aught that may afford you any diversion. The Particulars of what I now tell you in brief, I shall give you when you please to desire it, as far as my memory will prove faithful to me, begging your pardon in the mean time, that I cannot entertain you with any thing that is pleasant.  
Julia could not forbear smiling at this discourse of Antonius, which Marcellus observing; In troth, Madam (said he to her) if Antonius had spoken for me, he would have told you the same thing he hath said for himself, it having been my fate also to travel into several Nations, though not near so many as he, and not to have met with any adventure worth the relation. I have seen both Mauritania, Libya, and I am so stung with regret and confusion at what caused my departure, and egaged me in that progress, that I shall as much as lies in my power, avoid all occasious of making any mention thereof. Nay then, for aught I perceive, (replies the daughter of Augustus) you are not either of you much disposed to give us the relation we desire you should, and if it be such as you tell us, I think we may excuse you, or at least reserve it for another time, when we shall be more inclined to hear of wars and travels.  
Thus were Marcellus and Antonius dispensed with, as to the relation of their adventures, and not long after Julia falling into some private discourse with Marcellus and Antonius; Alexander, Ptolomey and Ovid, with Antonia, Artemisa, Marcio, and Agrippina, while the Queen of Aethipio, whispering Cleopatra in the ear, was telling her, that failing to see Caesaria that night, she had given Clitia order to send him by Eteocles an account of all had happened to them, Agrippa who had kept silence all the time, and had been very pensive all the night, found an opportunity to come at Elisa, who out of the sweetness of her disposition and the respect she had for his virtue, durst not shun him, as she would have done some other person, and laying hold of an occasion which he met not with so often as he desired, he laid to her all that a violent yet respectful passion, such as his, could inspire him with, and satisfied her of the violence of his sufferings, much beyond what he had ever done before. Elisa entertained that confirmation with abundance of grief, and an affliction so much the greater, for that Agrippa was a person virtuous and powerful, and one she would not disoblige, if she could avoid it. Whence it came that she answered discourses with much moderation and mildness, but when she found herself too far urged, and reduced to a necessity of expressing herself more fully, looking on him with a countenance, wherein he might observe much more regret than aversion for his person; My Lord, (said she to him) the favours you have out of your goodness done me are extraordinary, and I doubt not but I ought in some measure to make my acknowledgements to you for the protection I have found from Augustus, against the persecutions of Tigranes; but you will give me leave to complain of the violence you do me, since I cannot interpret otherwise the perseverance you express, in pressing me to things which it is impossible for me to grant, and to make it my suit to you, with the greatest importunity imaginable, that you will content yourself with the esteem, the acknowledgements and the respects I shall have for you while I live, and not to persist any longer in a passion, whereof you will never have any satisfaction and by which you will make me the most unhappy creature in the world.  
Elisa delivered these words with such an action as convinced Agrippa they came from her heart, and he was accordingly more troubled thereat, then at any accident had ever happened to him. He continued a while without making her any Answer, but at last, reassuming the Discourse; May the Gods (said he to her) send me death rather than the least occasion that may contribute to your misfortune, and if my love be any hindrance to your happiness, may it end with my life, that I may no longer disturb the enjoyments I so heartily wish you. Whereupon not able to suppress his grief, and excusing himself upon indisposition, not feigned, but real; whereof he then felt his first assaults, he took leave of the Company. Julia with the Daughters of Octavia, the Brothers of Cleopatra and Artemisa, not long after withdrew also, and Elisa and Candace stayed some time longer with Cleopatra, not able to give over speaking so soon of their common adventure. I ever had a jealousy (says Candace) that Cornelius had some design upon me, but could never have imagined, that in the Court, nay, I may almost say in the presence of his Master, he would have attempted any such thing. I was very much afraid, (added the Princess of Parthia) Tigranes should have engaged himself in such an enterprise as he hath, but being so near Caesar I thought myself so secure, as that I needed not fear any such thing. And I had reason (says the Daughter of Anthony) to fear all things from Tiberius, and know not how I came to be so strangely blinded, as not to have been more careful of myself, after I had understood from Volusius, that he was hereabouts, and discovered not himself to any. Whereupon, after they had expressed a joy for the good fortune they had had, their goodness was such, as not to wish those Lovers whom they could not consider otherwise then as enemies, a greater mischief than what had befallen them; and without desiring they should meet with any greater, they only wished themselves secure from their persecutions, admiring not without much satisfaction, how that the same fortune which had wrought a friendship between them, had as it were twisted together their three Destinies, and had almost made them all three equally unfortunate by one and the same Adventure. This accident, common to all three, made the knot of their Friendship the more indissoluble, and confirmed Candace in the resolution she had taken, to expect, with Caesario, what would be the fortune of her two Friends, and to oblige them to accept the refuge she had proffered them in a Country whereof she had the absolute disposal.  
This night passed away differently among so many illustrions' persons, whose fortunes were so different, though those who thought themselves the most happy, were so generous as to sympathise in some measure with the misfortunes of others. The Emperor having rested very ill in the night, it was far-days ere he awoke, and consequently could be seen, insomuch that several Princes, ere they could be admitted to wait on him, had the opportunity to make other visits. Though Philadelp had disengaged himself from having any hand in the interests of Tigranes, as well out of a consideration of the injustice of his procedure, as the great civilities his Arsinoe, Ariobarzanes, and himself had received from the generous Artaban; yet had he still a Friendship for him, greater than that of the Median towards him: And though he blamed his engaging in such an enterprise as much as they who had most opposed it, yet hearing he was brought wounded to Alexandria, he would needs visit him, and do him all the good offices he could without offending those Friends, of whom their virtue obliged him to a greater esteem. He found him in a sad condition, though not very dangerously wounded, and easily perceived that grief and shame did him as much hurt as his wounds. Philadelph comforted him with much mildness, and blamed him the less out of a consideration of the posture he was in; but the King of Media was so ore-burthened with with affliction, that he could not hear of any comfort, nor indeed could well endure discourse. The chiefest end of his visit was to induce him to a desire of his own recovery, to entreat him so to contribute his own endeavours thereto, as not to make those of others ineffectual, through that excess of grief he seemed to be in. He represented to him, that many other erterprises had proved as insuccessful as his, and what he should most fear, was the danger of his wounds, and not the resentment of the Emperor, which in all likelihood would go no further than it had done.  
Tigranes' harkened to this discourse of Philadelph, with much impatience and distraction, as looking with no great confidence on a Prince, who out of respect to Virtue disapaproved the unworthiness of his designs; but calling to mind withal that it was through his assistance he had been re-seated in his Throne, and that he had not forgotten the esteem he ought to have for him, he in some measure smothered his own sentiments, to give him the less occasion to complain, and pretended much compliance to his, though in effect it was no more than pretence. Philadelph desirous to know how he had been engaged into that enterprise, was told by him, That ever since his arrival at Alexandria, he had found Cornelius very much inclined to be his Friend, and that, that disposition had obliged him at first to make his complaints to him with much confidence, and afterwards to discover himself more fully to him; That Cornelius obliged by the freedom of his carriage towards him, had by way of requital discovered to him the Love he had for Candace, even before he knew her to be Queen of Aethiopia, and that, that equality of Fortune, that is, of loving without being loved again, had made a certain union of their interests, and obliged them to mutual proffers of services upon that occasion: That however, they would hardly have taken the resolution which they would have executed the day before, if, the very night of the Emperours' arrival, and that after all were retired from the meeting had been at Julia's Lodgings, Tiberius had not come unknown to Cornelius', who had been his ancient Friend, and was obliged in some respects to Livia for the favours he had received from Caesar: That Cornelius had been much surprised to see Tiberius in that condition, and that having asked him the reason of it, after he had by many expressions and Oaths assured him of his Friendship, he with much confidence acquainted him with the design he had to carry away the Princess Cleopatra by force, after he had ineffectually tried all other ways to gain her, seeing that the Emperor, who in all things else treated him as his Son, had neglected him in that affair, or at least had resolved not to use his Authority to make him possessor of Cleopatra, as he had sometime been willing to do, and that he had a fair opportunity to carry her away at that time than he had had in his life before, there being not any who knew of his coming to Alexandria, but thought him very far from it: That he had Men, and a Vessel lying lieger at a place where it was not easy to discover them; but that it would be hard for him to effect his purpose, by reason of the like accident that had happened to the Princess not many days before, which might oblige her to have a greater care of herself, if he afforded him not his assistance, and furnished him with those things which he easily might do, without running the hazard of being discovered: That he had added to this discourse thousands of proffers which he had made to Cornelius, which yet had not at some other time made that impression in him which they did then; that Cornelius (otherwise very much a creature of Tiberius', but in other circumstances would not easily have been persuaded to engage in any thing whereby he might incense the Emperor) finding in the present occasion a means to interess Tiberius in his fortunes, by sacrificing himself to the furtherance of his designs, had forgot all other considerations, and made no difficulty to discover to him his affection to Candace, and acquaint him, that the King of Media, who was in a condition not unlike theirs, and who had gallant and faithful men about him, would gladly join with them in such an enterprise, and would afford them a retreat in his Country, till that, by the mediation of Livia, Caesar should be appeased: That he had given him a particular account of the sentiments of Tigranes, and the correspondence they held and that Tiberius having liked his proposal, and expressed his impatience to see Tigranes, Cornelius conceiving there was little time to lose, and that the night was most proper for their interviews, had written a Letter to him, desiring him to come upon sight thereof to his house; That Tigranes very secretly came thither, that he met with Tiberius, and that agreeing in their intentions, and encouraged by one another's assistances, they without any difficulty resolved to put in execution what was proposed by Cornelius: That their design was to carry away the three Princesses into Media, which they thought might be the more easily done, by reason of their being perpetually together, & that it was but the same work to force away all three, as any one of them; That they doubted not but the Empress would make their peace, yet thought it not convenient to give her any notice of their design, lest she should disapprove it as temerarious: That they had not haply been so violent upon execution of it, if the present opportunity had not obliged them thereto, and if, the night before the Hunting march, Cornelius, casually walking in the Gardens of the Palace, had not overheard the conversation of the three Princesses, and among other things of importance, understood, that they would be the next day at the Hunting, and if possible, together in the same Chariot: That Cornelius had heard several other things, whereby he thought himself obliged to hasten their enterprise, and that having given them notice thereof that night, they had set all things in order for carrying of it on: That Cornelius had ordered a Chariot to be made ready for the three Princesses, such as they would have desired, and had given the Driver instructions what he was to do: That Tiberius and Tigranes with their men had followed the Game at a distance, keeping in the most unfrequented places, till such time as Cornelius, having left the Hunters, met them at a place appointed, which was upon the way they had ordered the Chariot-diver to take: That there he put on his Arms, which he had caused to be brought thither by one of his men, & had brought them through by-places, which he well knew, to the Chariot of the Princesses, where their design met with a success much different from what they had expected.  
Thus came Philadelph by the particulars of the enterprise of the three discontented Lovers; and after he had comforted Tigranes in his misfortune, and told him, that it was haply in order to his happiness that the Gods had crossed his design, and that in all probability he could not expect to be fortunate in the enjoyment of a person that loved him not, and whom he knew prepossessed by another affection, he proffered him all the services he could rationally expect from his Friendship, and not long after took leave of him, out of a fear of prejudicing his health by obliging him to overmuch discourse.  
As soon as the Emperor was to be seen, the whole Court of Alexandria waited on him, the gallant Artaban only excepted, who not able to smother his resentments, chose rather to pass away his melancholy thoughts elsewhere, then present himself before him with a countenance which would, to no purpose, have betrayed his discontent. Among so many Princes the Emperor not finding Agrippa, and calling to mind he had not seen him the night before, which was something more than ordinary, he asked for him, and was answered by some in the company, that being fallen into a Fever in the night, it was grown very violent upon him. Agrippa being a person whom Caesar loved, and looked on as the most considerable of the Empire, the account he had received of his indisposition troubled him extremely, so that as soon as he was ready he went to visit him, taking only with him Maecenas and Domitius. He found him in a hot burning Fever, and in a much worse condition than he had imagined, considering the small time he had been sick. After he had sat a while on his bedside, and that Agrippa had with much submissiveness acknowledged the honour he did him, though he had often received the like, he asked him what the nature of his disease was, and the cause of so sudden an indisposition, if it might be known.  
Agrippa continued a while without answering him; but the Emperor having once more put the same question to him, My Lord, (said he to him, with a sigh he could not suppress) I do but too well deserve what I suffer; nay, were my condition much worse, I were worthy of it, since that the great charges you honour me with, and the employments of consequence you put me upon, cannot find my thoughts so much business as to free me from a passion which not only disturbs, but but makes me unfit for your service. I perceive (says Augustus to him) it is Love hath put you into this condition, and that Elisa will in time deprive us of Agrippa, if we take not some course to prevent it. I should hardly have thought that that passion could have wrought so sudden and so violent, effect upon you; but since it is so an endeavour to divert what may be yet more dangerous, and recover yourself, with the assurance I give you, that Agrippa shall have the enjoyment of Elisa, or I not be Master of all that power the Gods have bestowed on me. If I might have that happiness (replies Agrippa) with the consent of that fair Princess, no doubt I should soon recover; and live the happiest of men; but if I must receive it from the authority of Caesar, and that it be an effect of any violence to the inclinations of Elisa, I must, my Lord, not only refuse the proffer you make me, but I shall doubtless disclaim a life which I cannot preserve but by that means. You are generous and full of virtue (replies Augustus,) and it is from the assurances I have of it, that I conceive myself the more obliged to endeavour your safety and enjoyments, the preservation of a man such as Agrippa, being a thing much more to be minded then those formalities which you would have me be guided by without any necessity. Elisa shall suffer no violence, because it may be hoped she will be prudent enough to comply with reason and the posture of her affairs, so that there shall be no need of Authority; but it is not fit we should stand so much upon the inclinations she may have for a person that's inferior to her, as not to let her know she ought to exchange them upon advantageous terms. Ah my Lord (replies the amorous Agrippa) I see the course you intent to take will make me the more odious in the sight of that excellent Princess than I am, and consequently the most unhappy man in the world. Trust me with the management of your interests, (says Augustus to him) and if any hatred comes upon it, I shall take it upon myself, so as that you shall be blameless; but howe'er it may happen, do you endeavour your own recovery, and let me alone with the rest, since it were vain for you to oppose what I intent to do. Elisa shall have no reason to complain of my procedure, and I protest to you I shall treat her no otherwise then if she were my own Daughter. Whereupon perceiving that Agrippa would have made some reply, and expressed by his gesture, that he consented not to the design he had to serve him, he put his hand on his mouth, and after he had told him, that in so violent a Fever as he had, he should not speak much, he withdrew, and left him, partly flattered with the hopes he had put him into, & partly troubled, out of the fear he was in to displease a person he so much adored.  
The Emperor being a person very eager in what he resolved to do, he no sooner went from Agrippa's, but he goes immediately to the Princess of Parthia. She had been dressed a good while, insomuch that the Princess Arsinoe and Olympia were come to visit her, conducted thither by Philadelph and Artaban. Augustus was somewhat troubled to find Artaban there, as feeling within him a certain remorse, at his so ill treating a man whose worth he had an infinite esteem, and whose person an admiration for; and the amorous Artaban, who had heard of the indisposition of Agrippa, and upon the emperor's coming into the Room, imagined what his errand was, could not forbear changing colour or expressing some disturbance. Augustus' observed him with some confusion; but the respects he had for Agrippa making him the less mindful what prejudice he did Artaban, as being one he loved above all men, Marcellus only excepted, he prosecuted his design, and after some short discourse with the Princess before the company, he told her he had something to say to her in private: whereupon taking her by the hand to the bedside, Olympia and Arsinoe, with Artaban, Philadelph, Maecenas, and Domitius, did, out of respect, stay at the other end of the Room. 'Tis true, Artaban minded not much their conversation, as being in such a strange disturbance, that a little would have persuaded him to leave them, to go and interrupt the Emperor in the discourse he had with Elisa.  
As soon as they were sat down, the Emperor assuming the discourse with an accent which discovered the passion whence it proceeded, Madam (said he to her) I am now come to beg of you the life of a Friend, who upon your account is at Death's door, and were it any thing of less consequence than my Friend's life, and that such a friend as Agrippa, whose worth is known all over the world, I should not importune you with a discourse which you receive haply with little inclination to answer it, nor make it my business to ruin the fortune of a person whose virtue I esteem; but I have not any choice to make, nor time to lose, when the safety of Agrippa lies at the stake; and you may have understood, that he is already in such a condition, as out of which we are in some fear whether he will recover. Have some compassion, fair Princess, both on him that suffers, and him that intercedes; and after such an effect of your goodness, dispose of Caesar and the Empire as absolutely as if you were the Sovereign thereof.  
Hereupon Augustus held his peace, expecting Elisa's answer, with as much disturbance of mind, as if it had been for himself. But the fair Princess was at such a loss, that it was no small difficulty to her to find terms wherein to answer him, and a mean betwixt the constancy of her intentions, and the respect she would express towards Caesar, at a time when she might fear all things from his Authority; and in that distraction she continued so long silent, that the Emperor re-assumming the discourse, Why do you delay so long, fair Princess (added he) the restitution of the joy I have lost, and the putting of a greater obligation upon Caesar than he could have received from all the world besides? with the least assistance of yours we shall overcome all difficulties, and we will satisfy Artaban with a Fortune which may be equivalent to that we would take from him. My Lord, (said the Princess at last) 'tis not my want of resolution that occasions my silence, but the affliction it is to me that I cannot answer suitably to your intentions, and find myself reduced to a necessity of disobeying and displeasing a great Emperor who hath afforded me his protection, and making so little acknowledgement of the affection of a man, whose virtue and person I much honour, I have many reasons to allege, which you cannot disapprove; but I shall urge only one, which makes an inevitable obstacle in the business you manage, and only tell you, my Lord, that if it be a Husband you proffer me in the person of Agrippa, I cannot accept him, without the consent of those at whose disposal my birth obliges me to be, and that, as things stand between your Empire and that of the Parthians, there is little likelihood Phraates should give me leave to marry a Roman, and that the Favourite of Augustus. Ah, Madam, (replied the Emperor) give me leave to tell you, that you answer me not sincerely, and that if you would have received a Husband, according to the disposal of your Father, you would have received Tigranes, whom he had particularly designed you for. I do not tell you, my Lord, (replied Elisa) that I will receive from the hands of Phraates a Husband I could not endure, but that I shall never take one of my own choice without his approbation, till I am in a condition to choose for myself. And do you think (added the Emperor) that the King your Father approves Artaban, or rather can you be ignorant of his disallowance of him? I must needs acknowledge (replied the Princess) that he approves him not; but neither does Artaban ever hope to be my Husband, if my Father does not consent thereto, or our fortunes change some other way. And if Phraates were dead, (replied Caesar) would not you marry Artaban? My Lord, (replied the Princess, with a resolution more than ordinary in her) you would have me tell you more than Artaban ever knew, and indeed more than his curiosity led him to inquire; but since you command me to express myself, I shall tell you, that if the Gods had deprived me of those persons to whom I owe by being and birth, and that I were accordingly free to make to my own choice of a Husband, I am so infinitely obliged to Artaban, and have that acquaintance with his virtue, that no doubt I should prefer him before all the men in the world.  
These words, which Elisa uttered with some fierceness and loud enough to be heard by the impatient Artaban, put the Emperor into a little astonishment, and after he had continued silent a while, I see then (said he to her) the fortune of Artaban lies no less in my way then the inclinations of Elisa; and since you force me to that necessity, I am to try, whether I may not find in Artaban himself more compassion for my Friend, & a greater consideration of my own quiet, and whether by a Fortune whereto I can indisputably raise him, I may not shake the pretensions he hath to a much higher which it will not be so easy for him to obtain. Upon which words, not expecting what answer the Princess should make, he calls Artaban, and in that he discovered the impetuosity of his affection to Agrippa, rather than acted according to his ordinary prudence, which in all probability would not have advised him to make such Propositions to Artaban, before Elisa, though he had thought him of such a nature as to accept them. Artaban comes up to him, more troubled than if he had had an Army to oppose: and the Emperor having commanded him to sit down, (a favour he ordinarily did to persons of that Rank whereto Artaban had by his Virtue raised himself) after he had sought, and with much difficulty found words whereby to express his intentions; Artaban (said he to him) I can make a sincere protestation to you, that if I saw but any probability of your arrival to the Fortune you pretend to by the Parthian Princess, I would not upon any consideration in the world disturb it, as having that esteem for your extraordinary qualities, that there are few persons, whose advantages I should endeavour to promote so much as yours. But in regard she hath declared to me, that her intention is not to marry you without the consent of the King her Father, and that I think it a thing you should never hope, I would entreat you, with all the affection imaginable, not to oppose the life of a Friend, whom I cannot preserve but by the goodness of the Princess Elisa, and to assure yourself, that if any other Fortune whatsoever can compensate in your apprehension that which you quit, I will put you into such a condition, as that you shall have no cause to envy that of the greatest Kings.  
Artaban was extremely troubled at these words, not that he expected any other from Caesar, but out of a fear he was in, the Princess might hearken to a Proposition which he made to him in her presence. Yet did not his courage fail him in that emergency no more than it had done in others; and after he had looked on Elisa, as it were to find out by her countenance what he should do, he turns to the Emperor, and fastening his eyes on him with a greater confidence; My Lord (said he to him) this is not the first time that I have been sensible of the vanity of my presumptuous imaginations, it is long since that I have condemned them myself, and I should haply ere this have lost them together with my life, if the Princess out of her goodness had not pardoned them. If she think it yet convenient to condemn them, I shall be able to disengage myself of them by ceasing to live; and if she approve the Proposition you make on the behalf of Agrippa, it were needless to ask my consent in things that depend purely on her will, since it is not unknown to her, that I shall submit even to death without the least repining. No Artaban (says the Princess) I have not consented thereto, nor would I have you imagine that I should, out of any consideration whatsoever, prefer Agrippa, or any man in the world before you. If it be so, (replies Artaban turning very confidently towards the Emperor) I will continue my pretensions, be they never so temerarious to the last gasp, nor is it the Roman Empire, nor the Empire of the Universe, the preservation of a thousand lives, if I had so many to lose, that shall oblige me to quit them.  
Augustus was a little incensed at that audacious reply of Artaban, and looking on him with a dissatisfied countenance; I am not to learn (said he to him) that now is not the first 〈…〉 that you have slighted not only Kingdoms, but Kings also, and I might well have imagined 〈…〉 all I could offer you was below your ambition; but I am apt to believe that in time you 〈…〉 generate it, and if the King of Parthia come to be judge of your pretensions, and the 〈…〉 your Rivals, as he ought, and haply will be, it will prove a great hazard, whether you are the more fortunate. With which words he rose up, taking leave of the Princess with much indifference; and as he went out of the room, staying her at the door, whither she was to come along with him: However (said he to her) think not any thing amiss of Agrippa, if he seem to do any thing contrary to the promise he made you, not to make any advantage of my authority, in the prosecution of his affect on, he disapproves my endeavours to serve him, and will be no less troubled at it then Artaban, but we must not press too much upon his generosity, and it were unjust, because he is too generous, he should be so much the more miserable.  
The Emperor having left the Princess of Parthia, was going to his own lodgings, when passing through the Gallery he saw coming toward him Aquilius, one of Cornelius' Lieutenants, and whom of all his friends he had the greatest confidence of. He comes up to Augustus with a very sad countenance, and the Emperor who imagined he came to solicit him on the behalf of Cornelius, looking very angrily; You come from Cornelius (said he to him) and it is not unlikely that base man, who hath with so much ingratitude abused the favours I had done him, is haply now in some confusion at the temerity of his enterprise. He hath indeed much reason to be troubled at it, as being out of all hopes of ever coming to that height whereto I had raised him. He need not fear the loss of his life, since it is below my displeasure to take it from him; but let him live in the shame he hath brought himself to, and at that distance from me, that I may not hear any thing of him.  
These words, though uttered with a great deal of indignation, wrought no change in the countenance of Aquilius, insomuch that looking on the Emperor as one who was not afraid of any thing for his Friend's sake; My Lord, (said he to him) Cornelius is now in a condition to defy the effects of your displeasure, as having thought it a burden to survive the loss of that affection, which you had some time honoured him with. This misfortune, more than that of his enterprise, was it that put him into despair, and having the night before, endured the remedies applied to his wounds, with a countenance wherein might be read in some measure the dreadful design he had conceived, he hath this last night torn off all, and was this morning found dead in his bed, almost drowned in the blood he had lost.  
This Discourse of Aquilius very much troubled the Emperor, who had loved Cornelius, and had in time pardoned the miscarriage which the extravagance of his love had caused him to commit, so that having continued some time silent; I was not desirous of Cornelius' death (said he) and am sorry he should so far despair of the pardon he might have obtained from one that had a particular affection for him. My Lord, (says Aquilius, coming up close to the Emperor, with an action whence he inferred he had something more than ordinary to tell him) Cornelius writ the last night, a Letter which one of his men hath just brought to me, and which I bring you, because directed to you, and is besides of very great consequence. Augustus took the Letter from Aquilius, and having opened it found therein these words.  
CORNELIUS GALLUS TO CAESAR AUGUSTUS.  
THough I have by the last action of my life rendered myself unworthy the favours you had sometimes honoured me with, yet can I assure you sincerely, as one ready to close his eyes to this world, that the fidelity I had towards you leaves me not even to the last gasp, and being unwilling to live burdened with the confusion and misfortune whereto the loss of your affection, and the unsuccessfulness of my own have reduced me, it is my Lord, the greatest of my desires, that my last thought may do you such a service, as may in some measure force out of your memory the offence I have committed against you. I must confess my pretensions to Candace were too too presumptuous, and that I have endeavoured to gain her by such ways as have justly drawn on me your displeasure; but it was not so much my design to gain her, as to deprive your enemy of her, and by taking her away from him, I began an act of Revenge which you are to prosecute. The son of Julius Caesar and Cleopatra, and the same Caesario whom you have thought dead these ten years is the person for whom the Queen of Aethiopia is designed; he is not only living, but in Alexandria, and he is the same Cleomedon, who is so famous in Aethiopia for many great victories. Aquilius, whom I send you with this account, can inform you further, knows the retreat of your enemy, and will tell you how he is to be secured. I shall be happy in my death, if these last minutes of my life contribute aught to your service, and may satisfy you dying, that I may well have miscarried through a passion, which hath brought the greatest men into the like inconveniencies, but that I have not been unfaithful to my Sovereign Lord and Benefactor.  
The more intentive the Emperor was in the reading of those words, the more did the disturbance arising in his soul become remarkable in his countenance, insomuch that Maecenas and Domitius, taking notice of it, expected with some impatience he should acquaint them with the cause thereof. Augustus took Aquilius aside, and being got to such a distance as none could hear them, he commanded him to give him an account of what he knew concerning the business about which Cornelius had written to him, and for which he directed him only to him. Aquilius who was ready to satisfy the Emperor's desires, told him, that the night before the hunting match, Cornelius and himself, to whom he had discovered his inclinations for Candace, walking in the Palace Garden, had seen the same Caesario, whom Cornelius spoke of in his Letter, and being behind a row of Trees, had overheard all the discourse had passed between him, Queen Candace, the Princess Cleopatra his Sister, the Princess of Parithia, and Artaban, and thereupon gave him the particulars of it, as far as he could remember, insisting most on those things whence it might be inferred that that Cleomedon whom Candace so much affected, was Brother to Cleopatra, and indeed no other than Caesario. To this he added, that after the departure of the Princesses, Cornelius and himself, who had hid themselves to avoid being discovered, had followed Caesario at his going out of the garden, and that desirous to know his retreat, Aquilius, by command from Cornelius, had gone softly after him, yet at such a distance as not to be observed, and had seen him go into the house where he lodged, which was in one of the most unfrequented parts of Alexandria: That Cornelius would have given him notice of it that very night, had it not been for his design to carry away Candace the next day, which upon that discovery would have been prevented; That he had ordered the Emperor should not be acquainted therewith till his return from hunting; and to that end, though Aquilius were a person of whose friendship he had as much confidence as of any man's, and one he might have engaged in that enterprise, yet had he purposely left him in the City to observe Caesario, and to acquaint the Emperor with his being there, in case he should not return to Alexandria; Further, that he knew the house where he made his retreat, and whence he stirred not but in the night, to visit the Queen of Ethiopia; and that if he would give him order, and a party fit to secure him, he promised him that a few minutes should bring him into his power.  
Augustus' harkened to this discourse of Aquilius with much disturbance of mind and thoughts, but put it out of all question that the Son of Caesar was to be secured; nay he thought it prudence to have all those in custody who had been of the conversation whereby he came to be discovered. Though he was very open in all things to Maecenas, yet he would not speak to him of this, because he would not raise any jealousy in Domitius, to whom he thought not fit to discover it, by reason of the pretensions he had to the alliance of Cleopatra; but having sent for Levinus, Tribune of the Praetorian bands, a person whom he put much confidence in, he commanded him to take a Party, and go to the house whither Aquilius would bring him, and having secured the persons he should show him, bring them immediately before him: giving them these Orders with that secrecy and particular Instructions, as whence Levinus and Aquilius could not but infer, that if they failed in the execution thereof, they run the hazard of incurring his displeasure.  
They immediately departed, taking the most secret way they could to the house where Caesario was lodged, and Aquilius having acquainted Levinus with the quarter of the City where it was, he took such a number of the guard with him as he thought necessary, dividing them into small parties, and ordering them to meet from several ways about that house, to the end less notice should be taken of this design. The Son of Caesar, whom the magnificent Palace of the Ptolemy's had given his first lodgings, and who had sometime possessed it with so much pomp, was then lodged in a poor house, one of the most obscure about the City, where he thought himself most unlikely to be discovered. Having taken but little rest in the night, he was laid on his bed, and fast asleep, when his enemies came to the House. Aquilius came all alone, and the Master having opened the door, he immedistaid him; to prevent the notice he might give his Lodger; whereupon Levinus coming in, with a party of the guards, commanded him to conduct him to his Lodgers Chamber, and was obeyed by the poor frighted man, who without any resistance brought him into it. Livinus & Aquilius were gotten into the chamber with the Guard after them ere the Prince awaked, and casting himself off his bed upon the sight of those men, he was going to run to his sword, when Livinus perceiving it on the table, seizeth it, and surrounding the Prince with his guards, convinced him, that alone, and without arms he could do nothing in order to his safety. Upon sight of the Majesty and comeliness of Caesar's son, there seemed to be more astonishment in the countenance of Levinus, then in his, insomuch that he thought himself obliged to a respect which it was hard to forbear towards such a person. He looked on him a while without speaking, and by his deportment discovered how much he was surprised at that sight; when the Prince, whose present danger could not abate nothing of his courage, looking on him with a settled countenance, asked him what he was, and upon what account he came in that manner to his Chamber. I come (says Levinus to him) by order from Caesar, to secure you, and to bring you to him. The Son of Caesar doubted not from those words but that he was discovered, and having once more looked about him to see if there were any possibility to defend his life and liberty, when he finds all taken from him, he sighed out of a reflection on Candace, rather than out of any fear of the danger he was in. He soon recovered out of the disturbance which had broke forth into his countenance, and looking on Levinus with indifference little suitable to the condition he then was in; There was no necessity (said he to him) that Caesar should have sent so many armed men to take a single stranger, who would have waited on him upon the least Summons; and since, as the case now stands, it were hard for me to make any resistance if I had any such intention. I go along with you, since it is Caesar's pleasure; but favour me so much as to restore me my Sword, that I may present myself before him more like myself. I shall not be guilty of that weakness (says Levinus to him) as satisfied by what I have seen of you, that if you had had Arms, you would have disputed you Liberty. Caesario conceiving that, as things stood, he could not make any resistance which must not turn to his dishonour, endeavoured to put the best countenance he could on that misfortune, and not thinking it worth his time to make Levinus any reply, he goes of the Chamber, and being gotten into the Streets, marched between him and Aquilius, in the midst of the Guard that surrounded him. The people who saw him pass along the Streets, and perceived it was a Prisoner newly taken, looked on the comeliness of his person with admiration; nay, there were haply those who observed in his countenance some Ideas of that Queen whose memory was in so great veneration with them, and who possibly thereupon reflected on the same Caesario whom they had seen brought up in their City with so much magnificence. The Prince himself was troubled at that remembrance, and being carried a Prisoner into that very Palace where he had been born, and where in his infancy he had been proclaimed Kings of Kings, he could not but give way to some slight assaults of grief which he felt upon that consideration of his misfortune.  
Levinus having been ordered to bring him immediately to the Emperor, carried him to his Closet, where in expectation of his coming he was withdrawn, attended only by Maecenas, two or three Senators, who were much of his privy Council, and some of the Officers who were ordinarily about his person, and whom he placed most confidence in. Caesario comes in, attended by Levinus and Aquilius, the Guard having stayed at the door, and his entrance was not as that of a Prisoner, and a person that was to fear all things, and could hope but little, but withthe countenance of a great Prince, whose fortune could not abate of his courage, and in whom the presence of danger could not darken that Character of Greatness and Majesty which his Birth had imprinted in his Person. The hatred which Augustus had for him, proceeding not from any injury he had done him, but merely from considerations of policy, which persuaded him to cut off those who might disturb the establishment of his Usurpation, and that he had more compassion for his fortune then aversion for his person, he looked not on him with those eyes which indignation had the day before inflamed upon the sight of Coriolanus: and being the craftiest of mankind, he thought he might dispatch him out of the way merely upon his standing in his light, without discovering toward him a displeasure which he had not by any of his actions deserved, and which he could not draw upon him by a sight, which instead of aversion might raise love & respect in his enemies so that he resolved to receive him with a seeming kindness: but he was the more confirmed in that design when he saw him come in, and that in his noble carriage, and his countenance, full of sweetness and majesty, he observed the image of the great Caesar, intermixed with some Ideas of Queen Cleopatra. Accordingly was he struck therewith, and not able to conceal his surprise from Maecenas and Sempronius who stood by him, Ah, (said he to them) behold the image of my Father. And moved with a respect which he could not forbear upon so unexpected a sight, he rose out of the Chair where he was sat, and saluted the Prince with much civility, Caesario, who had not expected so much from him, was much amazed at it; but his astonishment was much greater, when the Emperor breaking the discourse with a personated mildness, an Art he could make his advantages of, when he thought it convenient; You are very much to blame (said he to him) to come privately, and lie incognito in a City where your birth affords you so many advantages; and besides that the blood of Cleopatra hath a right to command in Alexandria, you doubt not I hope of the veneration I have for that of Caesar.  
There needing no more to satisfy the Prince of his being discovered, his astonishment was so great, that he was in some uncertainty what answer to make him. He thought it a dishonour to disclaim a glorious truth, either out of fear or any other consideration, nay, vainly to disclaim it to those who might have a perfect knowledge of it. And on the other side he thought it imprudence to discover what might be yet doubtful; and by that confession run the hazard of losing Candace, who was dearer to him then his own life, and without whom life signified nothing with him. Between these two considerations he was in some suspense what resolution he should take, when Augustus observing what doubtfulness and perplexity he was in, It is to no purpose (said he to him) to dissemble with us, or to consult whether you should let us know you are Caesario; we know all, even to the least circumstances, and Candace herself does not deny but that Cleomedon is Son to Caesar and Cleopatra. Upon the hearing of these names of Candace and Cleomedon, the Prince was fully satisfied of his misfortune, and being unwilling to deny what he thought Candace had acknowledged; 'Tis very true, (said he to him) Cleomedon is Son to Caesar; and since Candace hath thought fit this truth should be known, it is too advantageous for me to disclaim it. I am Caesario, and I am also Cleomedon. Under this name I have haply done those actions which render me not unworthy the blood of my Ancestors, and the name you bear. You are only by adoption what I am by birth; and blood and name are common to us, though our fortunes are much different. I have not envied yours, as thinking my own glorious enough in the service of Candace, and purely out of the extraordinary inclinations I have had for her alone, I have without any regret seen you in the place of him that brought me into the world. I am apt to believe what you say, (replies the Emperor,) and withal willing to acknowledge that the noble actions of Cleomedon are not unknown to us, and that they no less discover you to be the Son of Caesar, than the resemblance you have of him in your countenance but you will give me leave to require some reason of your abode unknown in Alexandria, and you are not to be much astonished if it hath raised some jealousies in us. When you know (replies the Son of Caesar) that I serve the Queen of Aethiopia, you will not much wonder I should endeavour to find her out even in Alexandria: nor can you think it extraordinary I should conceal myself, if you reflect on the Orders you sometime gave out against my life, at a time when it was not feared I could do you much prejudice, The same observations of policy (replies the Emperor) whereby the actions of persons of my rank are regulated, may change their resolutions according to several times and exegenes; and there may have been, of the Orders you mention, in one season, a necessity, in another, none, Howe'er it may be, you will give me leave to examine those things whereof the knowledge does so much concern me, and to find out how I may with safety treat you suitably to my inclinations, rather than according to Maxims of State, which are sometimes rigorous, even contrary to their intentions who are obliged to follow them.  
With those words, he commanded Levinus to conduct him to a Castle not for from Alexandria, where were commonly disposed Prisoners of quality, and whither they had the day before carried the Prince of Mauritania; but as he went away he bid him not fear any thing, and commanded Levinus he should be treated and attended as Caesar's Son.  
This personated kindness did Caesario look on as more dangerous than menaces and open discoveries of displeasure, insomuch that he doubted not but Augustus had resolved his death, though hedissembled his intention. He departed without making him any reply, and marched away in the midst of the Guards which received him at the door, towards the prison whither he was sent. As he passed through the great Hall, he met full butt with Candace led by Eteocles, who, transported with grief, was come to give her notice of that misfortune; and the fair Queen being wholly at a loss thereat, and not thinking any observance of decency and feminine reservedness obliged her to smother her sentiments upon that occasion, was running to the Emperor, resolved to participate of the danger with her beloved Prince, though her resolution were the greatest of any of her Sex, yet could she not see him surrounded by a Guard without being so troubled thereat, that for some time she was no better than in a swound, though held up by Eteocles. But seeing the Prince carried away, she overcame her weakness, and running before him, What Cleomedon (said she to him) is this the condition wherein you appear to me? 'Tis not Cleomedon (replies the Prince) 'tis Caesario that is carried to Prison, and it may be to his death, it being in vain for me to conceal my name from Caesar, after your acknowledgement of it to him. Who I (replied the Queen) I discover your name to Caesar? Ah Cleomedon, or Caesario, since you will have it so, assure yourself I know nothing of what you say; and that before I should be guilty of a confession so prejudicial to you, I would have endured all the torment that man's invention could have put me to. And not be assured of this, would speak more cruelty in you then in our mortal Enemies. And if he who puts you into Chains shall be moved neither by my entreaties nor a respect to my dignity, you shall find whether I make any difficulty to run fortunes with you. May your preservation be the care of the Gods, (replied the Prince with a gesture wholly passionate;) but if it be their will I should die upon this occasion, they know I shall do it without any other regret then that of losing you. If you die (replies the Queen) you shall not die alone; I shall as gladly accompany you to Death, as to a Throne.  
She would have said more, if Levinus, who was afraid his suffering that conversation might give offence, after he had made some excuse to her, caused the Prince to march on, and carried him immediately out of the Hall, leaving the Queen so struck at that cruel separation, that notwithstanding all that great constancy whereof the had made so many discoveries, she fell into a swound between their arms who stood about her to hold her up. She was in that condition; and the unfortunate Eteocles, between the desire he had to relieve her and that of following Caesario, was at a loss what to do; when the Princess Julia comes into the Hall, accompanied by the Princess Andromeda, Ismenia and some other Ladies. Being a person the most officious in the world, she runs to the Queen with much earnestness, and having understood from those that were about her the cause of that accident, her thoughts were divided between her compassion and astonishment thereat.  
Mean time, the Queen by the help of those that were about her, recovers herself, and seeing the Princess Julia very busy and earnest to relieve her, after she had looked on her with the tears breaking their passage at her eyes, Ah, Madam, (said she to her) what favourable Deity sends you to my assistance? And not long after, Alas! (added she,) how do I stand in need of your assistance! not so much for the kindness I now receive from you, as the favour you may do me with the Emperor; the cruel extremity I am reduced to forces me to implore it, and so am apt to hope you will do all you can, out of a respect to the tears and misfortunes of the most disconsolate Princess in the world. The Daughter of Augustus embraced her, and accompanying her tears with her own, Assure yourself, Madam, (said she to her) that my solicitations shall be as earnest for you as if they were for myself. and that I am but too sensible of your assliction, not to do any thing shall lie in my power to serve you.  
While Julia was speaking with the Queen of Aethiopio, the Princess Elisa extremely troubled and disordered at the late discourse she had had with the Emperor and the fair Cleopatra, almost out of herself at the misfortune of Coriolanus, came into the place where she was, upon the noise which was immediately spread of the unhappy accident had befallen Caesario. The sight of these two Princesses added much to the affliction of Candace, who taking Cleopatra in her arms, Ah, Madam, (said she to her,) now may you return me what I lent you yesterday upon the like occasion, and that you are upon the point of losing that Brother whom I had restored you so lately, and whom Fortune hath left you so small a while.  
The affliction Cleopatra was in at the taking of Coriolanus received but too great an aggravation by that of Caesario, to leave her in a capacity to make Candace any answer. All she could do was to bear her company in weeping, in which employment Elisa also made one; when the Emperor, attended Maecenas, and other persons who had been with him in his Closet, came out of his Chamber into the Hall. Candace no sooner perceived him, but dis-engageing herself from the Princesses, she went towards him; and casting herself at his feet with the greatest demonstrations of an insupportable grief, Caesar, (said she to him) pity the sadness of my condition, and with some compassion behold at your feet a Queen who is not so unfortunate as innocent. Your greatness and establishment hath not received any opposition either from me or mine, nor have we by any action, or so much as thought, deserved to be numbered among your enemies. You have entertained me into your Territories with much kindness, you have promised me your protection, and by an insupportable turn of Fortune, I am to look on you as the dreadful Judge and disposer of my life, and that of Caesario. It is not only an effect of my inclinations, nor yet by way of acknowledgement for the many services he hath done, that I receive him for my Husband: it was my Father and my King that bestowed him on me, and I thought myself very happy in so precious a gift, and the hope of so near a relation to a Prince of the blood of Caesar, and the illustrious name you bear. He never injured you, he hath bestowed his life, with all the glory his miraculous actions have acquired him, upon me, and it was upon my account that he came into your Territories, & into that City where he drew his first breath. What you might have conceived some jealousy of while your Empire was not yet fully settled, can produce no such effect now that you are indisputably the Master of all; nay, though Caesario should not for my sake disclaim all right and pretensions thereto, all things are now so well established, that it is above the reach of humane power to create you any disturbance. This was the tenor of the fair Queen's discourse, using that condescension in order to Caesario's safety, which she would not have done for her own; and she would have said more, had not the Emperor, who had several times entreated her to rise, at last forced her to do it, with a protestation that he would not hear her any longer in that posture. So that when she was raised, Madam, (said he to her) your fears are haply much greater than your harms; you are not to think it strange I should secure a Prince, who, after what hath been transacted in sight of all the world, lies concealed in Alexandria. Many Princes have conceived jealousies upon more inconsiderable occasions, and it is only my security that I so much endeavour, and not the ruin of a Prince from whom I never received any injury: nay, I may say you are haply very much to blame yourself, to be guilty of such strangeness towards me in a business which I was so highly concerned in; and since it is likely there will be so near an alliance between us, it had been but just I should have had some knowledge of it. There needs, my Lord, (replies the Queen,) no Apology be made for Caesario 's abode in Alexandria, when you are satisfied of the affection he hath for me, and informed of the strange accident which cast me on your territories; and if his crime be, that he hath continued here unknown, you know, my Lord, yourself, how far he is to be excused, and that it was not to be expected he should appear publicly here, after the hazard he had been in through your Orders while yet but a child, and the assurance he had of your inclinations towards him. Nay, there is somewhat (replies the Emperor) which I have reason to take ill at your hands, as being not ignorant of your design to harbour and entertain in your Country such as are my open Enemies, and to protect other persons, contrary to my interest, and as it were purposely to disoblige me.  
The Queen was somewhat surprised at these words, as from which she inferred that the discourse she had had with Caesario in the Garden must needs have been overheard, and that thence proceeded all their misfortune. That made her reflect on what her Women had said to her of the noise they heard behind the Trees: but she had not the time to bestow much thought on it, and endeavouring to dispel the astonishment which the Emperor's discourse had raised in her; It is possible (said she to him) I may have offered a Sister entertainment and refuge with her own Brother, if her fortune should reduce her to those extrenities as that she stood in need thereof, but those who heard it, and have given you so punctual an account of it, might, with the same labour, have assured you, that they discovered not either in me or Caesario by resentments tending to your prejudice. Howe'er it may be, Madam, (replies Augustus) I would have you confident I shall express towards you all the respects due to you either upon the account of your person or quality; and shall take it as a favour, if you support, with more patience, an affliction which necessity forces me to be the occasion of, and whereof the consequences will not haply be so fatal as you imagine. With which words he commanded Maecenas to conduct the Queen to her Lodgings; and having saluted the other Princesses, went on without any further stay.  
Candace was accordingly carried to her Chamber, where she was in a most deplorable condition, as hoping not any thing of favour from the discourses of the Emperor, and imagining them more dangerous than open threats. Cleopatra, whose opinion thereof was the same, and who was no less troubled thereat, could afford her no comfort; and Elisa conceiving their grief proceeded from too just a ground, and being also burdened with her own misfortune, wept with them, without saying aught to either. It was not long ere they were visited by all those persons whose generosity was greater than to fear Caesar's displeasure for visiting such as he was dissatisfied with, so that of that illustrious company of Kings, Princes, and great Princesses, there was a considerable number whom that consideration could not deter from acquitting themselves of the civilities due to the merit and quality of those great Princesses. Julius Antonius, Alexander and Ptolomey were among the first that came to them; and if the two younger bewailed the misfortune of a Brother, whom they had not many days been made acquainted with Antonius thought himself but too much concerned in the affliction of his Sister and Brothers, not to make upon that occasion discoveries of affection great as those of Alexander and Ptolomey, Marcellus, though a person the most engaged in the interests of Augustus, was with them almost as soon as the three Brothers; and while he was comforting the two Princesses with the protestations which might be expected from a generous and daring Friendship, Candace looking very sadly upon him, and speaking to him by her countenance no less than by her discourse, My Lord, (said she to him,) all the hope Cleopatra hath of the safety of her Servant, is in you; but she withal implores your assistance for her Brother: and I, who am a wretched stranger here, am content to derive all from her recommendation. It is not unlikely you may know he is such a Brother, as is not unworthy the blood that runs in his veins, nor the name he bears, and it is from you in fine that we expect all the happiness we are capable of. Madam, (replies the Son of Octavia,) I wish my mediation may prove as effectual with Augustus upon this occasion, as it hath sometime been upon others of less consequence, you might be confident of obtaining your desires; but be what will the issue of it, no consideration of either fortune, blood, or life, shall divert me from endeavouring the rescue of these two Princes out of the danger you fear they may come to; and as I am obliged upon the account of honour & friendship, to relieve one of them, I am tied to do all that I can for the other for your sake, and out of the affection I have for the Princess Cleopatra, and her Brothers, whom I have ever looked on as my own, engaged to do all that lies in my power for the other.  
Marcellus was upon this Discourse, when the Princess Octavia, a person of generosity great as that of her Sons, comes into the room with all the Princesses, and not long after her, the King of Armenia, with the Princesses his Sisters, Olympia and Philadelph. Presently after came in the King of the Scythians, with King Archelaus; and whereas Drusus thought himself obliged to keep away, rather out of a Punctilio of honour, than any fear of displeasing the Emperor, he entreated the gallant Croesus to assure the Princess Cleopatra, that though Brother to Tiberius, and son to Livia, he allowed their sentiments no further than he was engaged in honour, and that haply his desires to serve her were not inferior to theirs who had the opportunity to make a freer profession thereof. Artaban came not among them, as having left Elisa's Chamber immediately after Augustus, and being gone into the most solitary walks of the Palace Garden, to pass away the time in a solitude more suitable to the humour he was in, then would have been in a company wherein he could not easily have smothered his resentments. Candace desired of Octavia the same assistances which she had done before of Marcellus, and she found in that truly great and virtuous Princess sentiments consonant to the assurances which all the world had of her admirable virtue. All the illustrious persons that were present proffered the contribution of their endeavours, with a generosity, which, upon such an occasion, it was only for such noble minds to discover. Ariobarzanes and Philadelph betrayed a more than ordinary zeal and earnestness to serve the Illustrious distressed persons; and King Alcamenes, who bore the Princess Cleopatra a respect full of admiration, and who in all things expressed a devotion to virtue, protested he would make it no less his business, then if it were for the preservation of his own life.  
These two accidents happening in a manner on the same day had changed the face of Alexandria, and interrupted all the divertisements that were intended there. The unfortunate Coriolanus was shut up in the Castle with a strong and strict guard upon him, though attended in all things as a Prince, having also Aemilius and Strato, who was returned, to wait upon him. Caesario had the same accommodations, though in another part of it, and both were in a manner at the same point of despair, as to matter of life. Their two Illustrious Princesses were overwhelmed with grief, and raised in all that came near them a compassion for their sufferings. Elisa moved to pity at the misfortune of her so dear friends, and as much as might be disordered through the love of Agrippa, and Augustus' prosecution of it, thought herself as much at a distance with happiness as they. Agrippa, grown extravagant through the love he had for Elisa, and in a manner lost to all hope, entertained the assistances of Caesar with some dissatisfaction, and put his friends into a fear what might be the issue of his sickness. Tiberius and Tigranes wounded in their beds, and abhorred by the Princesses they adored, found torment enough in their rage and exasperation. Drusus, having a violent love for Antonia, but neither the opportunity to see her as often as he desired, nor to follow the inspirations of his virtue and affection, thought himself sufficiently miserable. Alexander, orepressed with grief at the misfortunes of Coriolanus and Caesario, was incapable of those enjoyments, which, had it not been for that, he would have had in the sight and presence of Artemisa. Marcellus for the same reasons was equally unfortunate, and could not be at rest while his friend was in danger, though Julia, who had a natural aversion for sadness, endeavoured to divert him from it as much as lay in her power. Ariobarzones, Philadelp and Arminius had been indisputably happy, as being as it were in the haven after so many tempests, and finding an inconceivable felicity in the demonstrations which they without any obstacles received of the affections of Olympia, Arsinoe and Ismenia, had they not thought themselves out of respects of Virtue obliged to a sympathy for the misfortune of so many Illustrious Persons, for whom they had so much tenderness and esteem. Lentulus, besides his participation of the common stock of sorrow, sighed for his absent Tullia, Crassus for Terentia, though present, because loved by a Rival who derived no small advantages from sovereign authority; nay Caesar himself, besides what he felt for the love of Terentia, was distracted by several passions, and not a little troubled to find himself forced to do things that were contrary to the reputation, he was desirous to raise himself to in the world, of a good and just Emperor. But there was not any of all that proud Court whose mind lay open to more cruel disturbances then that of the gallant Artaban, as well by reason of the love of Agrippa, the powerfulness of Caesar, and the over-reserved dispositition of Elisa, as through the torment it naturally was to him to inthe effects of an unjust authority. Nay, besides what he suffered upon his own account he was extremely troubled at what had happened to Coriolanus, and sighed our a regret, that he was not in the head of those armies whereby he had done so great things, that so he might by open hostility force him out of the hands of so powerful an Enemy; but when he heard of the misfortune of Caesario, whose virtue he had experience of, and with whom, notwithstanding the differences that had been between them, he had contracted a sincere and solid friendship, the affliction he conceived thereat was hardly expressible, insomuch that without any dispute with himself, he resolved to hazard all in order to his safety, and to serve Queen Candace, whom he still looked on with abundance of respect. He accordingly assured that excellent Queen of it, with so much earnestness, and such discoveries of a real grief, that of all Augustus' Court, she derived not that encouragement from, nor placed that confidence in any which she did in him. He thereupon visited all those persons who upon the account of blood or friendship were any way concerned in the welfare of the two Princes, such as Marcellus, Julius, Antonius, Alexander, Ptolomey, and all that were allied to the House of Anthony and Cleopatra; as also those whose virtue inspired them with sentiments suitable to his, as the Kings of Scythia and Armenia, and the Prince of Cilicia; and discovering his intentions to them with a greatness of courage they could not but admire, he eagerly solicited them to leave nothing unattempted to preserve two such Illustrious lives, and in them to rescue the sacredness of Royal dignity, which was highly injured by the tyranny exercised upon two Princes, such as the King of Mauritania and Prince Caesario.  
The end of the First Book.   

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA; OR Loves Masterpiece. Part. XII.  
LIB. II.  
ARGUMENT.  
Agrippa is in his sickness visited by Livia, who, by the instructions of the Emperor, bringing Elisa with her, he makes a further discovery of his affection to her; but she expressing her constancy, the Emperor threateneth to return her into the power of her Father, or that of Tigranes. While she bemoans herself to Alcamenes and Artaban, news comes to her that the Queen of Parthia her Mother, was at the Port of Alexandria; she is brought in by Drusus and Maecenas. She relates the History of the cruelties and exorbitances of Phraates, who exasperating the People into an Insurrection, is therein killed. Upon his death the States of Parthia meeting in order to the Election of a new King, fix upon Artaban, upon discovery of his being the Son of Artanez a Prince of the Blood of the Arsacides, who only are capable of that Crown. Artaban 's relation how he came to that Name, and to be Son of Artanez, disowning the Title and his pretensions to Elisa upon that account. Livia consults with Tiberius about the death of Coriolanus, as the only means to gain Cleopatra; but Tiberius disapproving it, the Emperor sends Sempronious to Cleopatra, to propose to her a Marriage with Tiberius, conditionally to save the life of Coriolanus.  
SOme days passed away in the disturbance that had interrupted the divertisements of Augustus' Court; during which, through the perpetual mediations of Marcellus, the Princess Octavia, Julia, Alcamenes, Ariobarzanes, and Philadelph, the Emperor passed not the cruel sentence of death, as it was much feared he should, against the Princes in restraint; yet could not the solicitations of all those illustrious persons prevail so far with him, as that he would grant them, or indeed put them in any hopes of their deliverance, things being so managed by him, as whence they imagined he only deferred, upon their entreaties, what he had absolutely resolved to put in execution, and that he stayed only for some discoveries, which as he had not yet received, so was it his expectation that Time would furnish him with. Many were of opinion that he only stayed for the departure of the Scythian King, for whom he had those respects which made him unwilling, during his abode in it, to slain his Court with the blood of two such great Princes, for whom he constantly solicited him; it being also certain on the other side, that the generous Alcamenes, incensed at the fruitlessness of his intercession, and conceiving an aversion for the implacable humour of Augustus, would have left him with much resentment, had he not imagined his presence might contribute to the delivery of the Princes, and chose rather to run the hazard of some further refusals, though much against the nature of a Prince of his rank and courage, than to leave them in the danger they were in. What was most feared, was, that the Emperor, to avoid the exclamations of the people, especially in a City where the blood of Cleopatra was still in veneration, would give Order for the secret dispatching of the two Princes in Prison, either by the hand of the Executioner, or by Poison. But Prince Marcellus, whom these disturbances afforded not the least moment of rest, being a person so generally beloved by all that were about Augustus, and considered as him who was one day to be their Master, had made sure of all the persons whom the Emperor might employ upon a secret execution, and had engaged Levinus, to whose care he had trusted the Castle and Prisoners, to promise him, that if any secret Order were issued out against them, it should not be executed before he had notice of it.  
For Augustus himself, his discourses were much different concerning the two Princes; and whereas he openly declared, that Coriolanus should inevitably die for it, as being one from whom he had received such injuries as for which it concerned the Dignity of the Empire that he should be made an Example; he said only of Caesario, that all the crime objected against him, being his coming unknown, and lurking in Alexandria, he could not justly be treated with the same rigour; that he would further examine some things concerning him, which he was not as yet satisfied of; and that in the interim he had only secured his person, and that rather to prevent any disturbance might happen in the Empire, than out of any desire of revenge. But though his discourses in public were to this effect, yet was there little credit given thereto; and those who called to mind with what eagerness he had caused him to be pursued, in order to his dispatch, upon his way to Aethiopia, could not easily be persuaded he had any real intention to favour him, at a time, when, through his excellent qualities and the noble fame he had acquired under the name of Cleomedon, he might be looked on with greater jealousy. The two Princesses, that were the most concerned of any in their welfare, omitted nothing which they thought might delay the fatal blow they stood so much in fear of; and being both, though with some inequality, persons of a courage much above their Sex, and conceiving that no observance of reservedness or modesty should, in reason, oblige them to conceal their sentiments, considering the extremities whereto their affairs were reduced, they jointly resolved to perish with the two Princes, if their endeavours to serve them should prove ineffectual. The Emperor had some thoughts to secure Artaban, upon the intelligence there might be between him and Caesario, whose abode in Alexandria he had been privy to, and with whom he had had secret conferences; but calling to mind that he sufficiently disobliged him by depriving him of his Mistress and Fortune, he thought fit to forbear doing him any further mischief, till such time as there were a greater necessity for it; giving order nevertheless, that he should be so strictly observed, as that he might not attempt any thing to his prejudice, if he had any such intention.  
In the mean time Tiberius' wounds were in such a posture, as that there was no doubt made of his life; but his recovery was somewhat retarded by the affliction it was to him that he had not a visit from Cleopatra: and Livia was so incensed thereat, that having an absolute power over Augustus, it was convinced there could not be a greater hindrance to the safety of Coriolanus than her displeasure. Besides, she knew there was a report scattered up and down, and had come to the knowledge of several persons, of her having a hand in those Artifices whereby Tiberius and Volusius had made discoveries of the pretended infidility of Coriolanus; and whereas she had conceived no small regret thereat, she would, no doubt, have been revenged on Volusius, had he not died of his wounds two days after his coming to Alexandria.  
As for Tigranes, having not been very dangerously hurt, he was in a manner recovered of his wounds; and the Emperor had not only pardoned him the offence he had commited, upon the mediation of Tiberius and Livia; but also permitted him to renew his pretensions to Elisa, and to dispute her with his Rivals: not that he really had any intention to countenance him therein, but to lay the more rubs in Artaban's way, whom he most feared and was dissatisfied with. The Median King, in whom the competition of Agrippa had not produced the same effect as in Artaban, and was very glad to see his enemy traversed by such a Rival, was grown confident in his hopes, when he understood, that the Emperor had threatened Elisa, to remit the disposal of her Fortune to the King her Father, not doubting but that Phraates, who had bestowed her on him, would prefer him before Artaban, whom he mortally hated, as also before Agrippa, as being a Roman, and consequently one upon whom he would, in all likelihood, have lest inclination to bestow the Heir of his Kingdom. Yet wanted there not something on the other side to gall and torment, as having heard, that King Archelaus, his ancient Friend, and a person to whom he was in some measure obliged for the recovery of his Crown, was resolved to press the performance of a promise he had made to the Princess Urania her Sister, when he was forced out of his own Dominions, and took refuge in those of Archelaus, and this he looked on as a new traverse of Fortune, which would occasion him no small trouble.  
But while Tiberius was upon his recovery, and Tigranes in a manner perfectly well, the sickness of Agrippa continued still; and if it were not grown violent enough to occasion much fear of his life, yet was it come to that height, as that the Physicians concluded it might continue a long time; and had accordingly told the Emperor, that as the indisposition of Agrippa proceeded rather from the mind then the body, so there was little hope of the recovery of the body but by the satisfaction of the mind. These discourses, which they had several times entertained the Emperor with, though contrary to the intentions of Agrippa, made him at last resolve to break through those scruples which till then he had boggled at, and to wave all manner of considerations to restore to his health and enjoyments a person whom he loved as himself. To which end, he entreated Livia, when she went to visit him, as she often did, to take Elisa along with her; and the Princess, who thought not fit to be wanting so far to a compliance with the Empress, and had an aversion only for the Love, and not for the person of Agrippa, accordingly accompanied Livia in that visit. Agrippa had seen the Empress several times since his sickness; but when he saw Elisa with her, it put him into such a disturbance, that those who were about him easily observed it by the changes of his countenance. She asked him with an excessive civility and kindness what posture his health was in; and Agrippa made her answer with a weak voice, acknowledging with much respect and submission the honour she did him; but not engaging her into any other discourse, because of the Empress and other persons that were about his Bed, and leaving it to his eyes to make a more eloquent discovery of his passion, then could have been expected from his Tongue.  
But not long after the Emperor comes into the Room, and after he had stayed some few minutes at the Bedside, he took the Empress aside to a Window, pretending some discourse with her; whereupon all the other persons who knew the Emperor's intentions, immediately withdrew, so that Elisa was left alone at the Bedside in the Chair, wherein she had been first seated. She could not forbear blushing at the trick she perceived put upon her; and Agrippa, taking notice of it, was himself so much troubled thereat, that it remitted much of the satisfaction he would have conceived at the opportunity of any discourse with her. Yet was he loath to slip that which he then had, as willing so to make his advantage of it, as not to draw on himself any part of the resentment he observed in her countenance; and looking on her with an action which betrayed his diffidence, and whereby he made her sufficiently sensible of the fear he was in to displease her, Madam, (said he to her,) Empress' compassion, I can with all sincerity, and by all the respect I bear you, assure you, that I entertain it not with joy, because it occasions your trouble; and though we are naturally inclined to make the greatest wishes we can of our own enjoyments, yet that which I receive by the violence you do yourself, cannot be dear to me since it comes with your displeasure. Leave then this unfortunate wretch to the mercy of that passion which will lead him to his grave, and do yourself no violence in order to his welfare, since his welfare deserves so little of your assistance, and his misfortune so little of your compassion. However you may abandon me to my own unhappiness, I will never repine against you, nay, shall not, even at the last gasp, charge you with a death, which I will embrace as the period of a much more cruel torment, and the most glorious end my Destiny could have aspired to.  
To this effect was Agrippa's discourse, which fell from him with some difficulty, and was ever and anon interrupted by certain sighs; and the Princess, sensible of his worth, and having a real esteem for him, was studying how to express herself so to him, as not to be thought guilty of any remission of her own sentiments, or discovering towards him a rigour, which, considering the condition he was in, she could not exercise on him, though resolved to make him sensible of her greatest severity. She continued silent a while with her eyes fastened on the ground; and presently after raising them up gently into his countenance, and by that look giving him new wounds. Imagine not (said she to him) it is with any repugnance I have waited on the Empress in this visit, nor that I shall ever have any to do you the services that shall lie in my power. I am satisfied as to your excellent qualities, and I have for your Virtue a consideration great as yourself can wish it; but I cannot affect in you that Passion, whence proceeds not only your, but also my misfortunes. Endeavour, generous Agrippa, to subdue it by your Virtue; you will not find it so hard a task, if you have but the will to attempt it: it's a thing you ought to do out of prudence, since you know the condition of my life to be such as permits me not to make those acknowledgements thereof which it deserves; and out of generosity, since you know it can have no other effect than that of making me miserable. But to make you miserable? (replies Agrippa,) Ah Madam, it's a thing at the greatest distance from my intentions of any, and there needed but that very persuasion to make me seek the period of it in that of my life. I perceive indeed that you suffer in the very compliance you have to see and hear me, but it hath been my opinion hitherto, that those were the greatest inconveniences my passion ever occasioned you, and I should think myself very unhappy it caused you any that were more insupportable. I have already told you, (says the Princess to him) that I have not any aversion to see you; and it proceeds from the sincere esteem I have for you, that I am troubled at your misfortunes: Nor is that the ground of my complaint; but I thought I might well let you know, that Caesar hath made me sensible of his Authority, by a treatment which the Princess of Parthia should not have expected from him. The condition you are in forbids me to trouble you with the reproaches thereof; but when you shall have recovered your former health, I shall put you in mind of the promise you made me. I remember it very well, Madam (replies Agrippa,) and shall keep it to the last gasp. Nay then, I see (added he, after a short interval of silence) that the affection the Emperor hath for me forces him to discoveries of it beyond what I expected from him: He is my Sovereign Lord and Master; I cannot, to my wishes oppose him, but I protest to you in the presence of all the Gods. I will not make any advantage of it; and that whatever he may have gained upon you, I will never accept it without your consent. I had made you the same protestation before, and had promised it to Artaban, whom I cross with much affliction to myself, as being a person I reverence and admire, and for whose sake, did it lie in my power, I would do myself more violence then for all mankind besides; but since all my endeavours prove too weak to obtain that victory over my heart, I wish, both for his sake and for yours, the Gods so pleased, that the end of my life may settle the enjoyments of two illustrious persons, and grant me to find in it that quiet which I ineffectually seek by other wayss.  
The last words he spoke so loud that they were heard by the Emperor, and was at the same time so moved at the consideration of his misfortune, and the little hope he had to gain any thing upon Elisa, that his heart oppressed with grief immediately lost some part of its strength, insomuch that the Princess perceived by the change of his countenance that he was going to fall into a swound. She made sigas to those that waited on him to approach; and the Emperor coming along with them to the bed side, and finding him very pale and weak, doubted not but that the rigour of Elisa had produced that sad effect, and was so incensed thereat that he was going to discover the resolution he had taken: But he forbore, because of Agrippa, as knowing he would be extremely troubled at the violence of his procedure, making a sign to the Empress to take her away, with a design to give her an account of his intentions as soon as she were out of the Room. Accordingly, as soon as Agrippa had a little recovered himself, and that he seemed to be in the same condition he had seen him in some time before, he left his Chamber, to find out Elisa, and met her in the next gallery, where the Empress and she were walking together. The Parthian Princess could not but tremble to see him coming towards her with a countenance that seemed to her more terrible than ordinary; and the Emperor approaching her with less ceremony than he was wont to do, Madam, (said he to her) since you so little respect my solicitations, and the safety of my Friend, which I have begged of you with so much submission, you must not take it amiss, if, in the extremity you force me to, I recur to the justice I am to see executed in my Dominions, rather than to my Authority; and in fine propose it to your choice, either to marry Agrippa, or to be returned to your Father, to be disposed of in Marriage as he shall think fit.  
The Princess' colour changed at these words, and her grief and astonishment not suffering her to speak, she continued a while silent; but at last overcoming her natural madness, she summoned all the supplies of her courage to her assistance; and remembering herself to be a Princess of the blood of the Arsacides, and only Daughter to a King who acknowledged precedence to no man whatsoever, she became of a sudden more confident than ordinary; and looking on the Emperor with more assurance than she had ever expressed before, The Fortune (said she to him) that hath put me into your power hath not given you a right to force me to marry Agrippa or any other person of your Empire; and it was never yet known, that the Daughters and Crown of Parthia were at the disposai of the Romans. But if, contrary to your promise, and the protection you have given me, you will return me into the power of a Father whose displeasure I avoid, I had rather be exposed to that necessity, then to the former you would impose upon me; and I shall think it more honourable and more supportable, to appease, though with the loss of my life, a Father, whose cruelty is known to all, then to be treated as a Slave among the Romans.  
These courageous words of Elisa, which her just resentments forced from her, contrary to her nature, made the Emperor blush; but being fixed in the resolution he had taken, he was nothing moved thereat: and desirous to let her know what she was to trust to, suitably to what he had begun, You cannot say (added he) that you are any way treated as a Slave, since you are at liberty either to take such a Husband as I should not think unworthy my own Daughter, or to receive one from the hands of the King your Father, to whose disposal you say you will submit yourself. So that you may see you are not here either treated with injustice, or forced by Authority: but the same reason which obliges me to forbear the latter towards you, because you are Daughter to a King who hath no dependence on our Empire, obliges me to do him a civility which I conceive due to him, and such as I should expect from him upon the like occasion. I give you two days to consider what resolution you will take; and that time expired, I shall send Phraates notice of your being here, as also to know, whether he desires you should be returned to him, or delivered into the hands of Tigranes, who he is desirous should be your Husband. You may do what you think fit, (replies the Princess,) for I am so fully satisfied as to what I am to do, that I desire no longer time to resolve.  
With those words giving way to sorrow, and ceiling a torrent of tears ready to force their passage to make an inundation in her countenance, she took leave of the Empress, and retired to her Lodgings with Urione and Cephisa, who had attended her. In her way thither she met with Alcamenes and Artaban; and upon sight of the latter, the tears she would have suppressed broke forth in such manner as that her face was all bathed therewith. Those two great men were much troubled at the spectacle, though with much inequality; and the passion of Britomarus not suffering him, in the disturbance whereby he was surprised, to express himself, the Scythian King, whose thoughts were less engaged, coming up to the Princess, tendered her his hand, and with Artaban accompanied her to her Chamber. Being satisfied that that King, a person of great and generous inclinations, had a particular affection for Artaban, and openly countenanced his Addresses for her, she made no difficulty to disburden her mind before him, and in his presence to give Artaban an account of what had happened to her, and the cruel resolution Augustus had taken. Alcamenes, who was already dissatistied with the proceedings of Augustus against Coriolanus and Caesario, and was vexed at the small regard he had had for his entreaties on their behalf, could not but disapprove this discovery of his Tyranny, nor sorbear inveighing against it in such terms, as whence it might be inferred he was extremely troubled thereat: But for Artaban, he took it so heinously, that, being of an humour that could not brook injuries, especially such as proceeded from Tyranny, it had almost put him upon some violent resolution. But he moderated his resentments, not only out of the respect he had for Elisa, but also what he thought due to a great Monarch, who so generously concerned himself in his affairs. So that after that conquest of himself, which both took particular notice of, turning to the Princess, he asked her what she had resolved to do; but it was with such trembling and submissiveness, and with so much distrust in his countenance, that the Princess was extremely moved to compassion thereat; and accordingly desirous to give him all the comfort and encouragement she could, I am resolved, (said she to him) and I speak it before the King, since he allows us that freedom, and hath the goodness to concern himself in our misfortunes, I am resolved to stand to the promise I have made you to be yours when I may do it without any breach of duty; and if I cannot be yours, never to be any man's. So that you may be confident, that all the power either of Caesar or Phraates shall never force my consent, either to marry Agrippa, or bestow myself on Tigranes; but I am much at a loss how to avoid the violences I may be subject to, not as to what concerns my will, which shall ever be free and unmoveable, but my person, which it is in the power of fortune to expose to tyranny, and which hath been once already forced by an unjust authority; and I shall be glad of your advice to direct me to those courses which it shall be most consistent with my honour and quality to follow. There is no other course to be thought on, (says Artaban to her) but that of leaving Alexandria; and I am in doubt, (replies immediately the Princess) whether there be a possibility of escape hence, it being unlikely that, considering the violence used against me, I should be still at liberty. Were I so happy, (added the undaunted Britomarus) as that my Princess would trust herself to the conduct of her faithful Artaban, I would rescue her out of the hands of Caesar, and all the powers in the world; but it is my misfortune that it is the consent of my Sovereign I have to oppose, and not the tyranny of my enemies. It is not to be doubted (says the Scythian King, speaking to the Princess) but that you are now observed, and that your departure will be hindered if it be discovered; but you must fasten on such a course as necessity shall advise you to, and I shall be ready to serve you to the utmost of my power. The small satisfaction which I receive from Caesar, in answer to the entreaties I make for the two Princes whom he detains Prisoners, after I had done him a civility, (which as I was not obliged to it, so was it beyond all ceremony and example) give me that liberty; and if I can help you to escape out of his power, I can offer you a safe abode in dominions that have not hitherto feared the forces of either Parthians or Romans: You may assure yourself of the respect and affection of Queen Metralippa, in expectation of the change or death of Phraates; and if after either, you find any difficulty to settle yourself in your Territories, all the forces of mine shall assist you to do it, as remembering the promise I have made to Artaban to serve him in the head of an hundred thousand men.  
The fair Princess of Parthia receiving as she ought the generous proffers of the Scythian King made her acknowledgements thereof with the greatest discoveries of gratitude imaginable; but the submissions of Artaban being extraordinary suitable to his resentments, Alcamenes could not without some violence receive, endeavouring to persuade them that what he prosered deserved not so great acknowledgements. Nor did Elisa accept his kindnesses, though she did not absolutely refuse them; and between the necessity which forced her to escape out of the hands of Augustus, or fall into those of Phraates, and the dishonour she feared might attend her following with Artaban a King such as Alcamenes, one to whom she had no relation either as to kindred or alliance, she was in a strange perplexity, and was lifting up her eyes to heaven, as it were to implore its assistances in her misfortunes, when the hears a sudden noise in her outer-room, & soon after sees Cephisa coming into her chamber in some disturbance, and with the countenance of a person that had something of consequence to impart. The Princess was going to ask her the reason of that precipitation; when Cephisa preventing her, Madam, (said she to her) I bring you very great news. The Queen of Parthia, the Queen your Mother, is at the Port of Alexandria, and before her landlng, hath according to custom, sent to demand the permission to do it. Ah Cephisa, (said she to her) what is it you tell me? Nothing but truth, Madam, replies Cephisa; and Timagenes, who with divers others of the most illustrious among the Parthians are come along with the Queen, is in the outer room desiring admittance. Elisa with much patience commanded he should be brought in; and he expecting only that Summons, came immediately into the Chamber, and having made his obeisances, kissed the bottom of the Princess' robe. She received him with much kindness and civility, as being a person very eminent among the Parthians; and after she had rendered his person what she thought due to the rank he was of, she asked him news of the King her father, though not without trembling, but of the Queen her Mother, with more confidence. Timagenes told her, that the Queen her Mother would give her an account of all things, that she was herself coming not far off, and had not charged him to inform her of any thing before her arrival. Soon after the Princess understood by others that were come into her Chamber, that Lodgings were appointed for the Queen's entertainment, and that the Emperor had commanded Drusus and Maecenas to give her a reception in the Ship, and to conduct her to the Palace. For though Augustus was a little surprised at her arrival, and troubled at the news was brought him of it, as feeling a certain remorse at his late treatments of the Princess her daughter, yet had he given order she should be entertained suitably to her dignity; nay, he flattered himself with an opinion that all things considered, her presence would rather promote, than prejudice his design. Elisa would needs go and meet the Queen, and the Emperor having notice of it, commanded Domitius and Crassus to furnish her with a Chariot, and to wait on her. King Alcamenes, who much concerned himself in her fortunes, was loath to leave her; but she not permitting him to go along with her, persuaded him for several reasons to forbear. Artaban would not expect the Queens coming to the Palace, but having obtained the Princess' leave, went along with Timagenes, being very impatient to see a Queen who had favoured him so highly; and he went with the greater confidence, for that Timagenes, and the Parthians that came with him, had saluted and looked on him not only as their famous General, for whom they had so much love and veneration, but treated him with a respect much greater than what they had formerly expressed towards him, and little different from what they rendered their lawful Prince. Artaban attributed it partly to the affection they had for him, and partly inferred from those Ceremonies that he was much in the Queen's favour.  
Being got on horseback he soon came to the Port, and brought thence into the Queen's Ship, he was conducted to her cabin by Timagenes. The Queen no sooner perceiving him coming, but she goes towards him, and he cast himself on his knees before her, and notwithstanding her endeavours to hinder it, kissed her garment; She embraced him with an affection great as she could have expressed to a Son, and with higher demonstrations of respect than he had ever received from her before. Artaban gave her assurance of his zeal and fidelity with more vehemence than order and recollection; and that excellent Queen satisfied him of her affection by caresses, and the most obliging words that could be. She was going to ask him news of Elisa and himself, when she perceives coming into the Ship Drusus and Maecenas, who by order from the Emperor were to receive her; and they had hardly acquitted themselves of their charge, as persons that understood it, if so the world had any, when the Princess Elisa comes in attended by Domitius and Crassus. The Queen runs to her which those transports of affection which she was not then able to overpower, (though desirous to show a respect to those illustrious persons who were come to receive her, and whose names Artaban had given her) and the Princess casting herself at her feet, washed her hands with her tears, joy and tenderness opening the passages of her fair eyes upon so joyful a meeting. Nor were those of the Queen much behind in their return; and when she had caused her to rise, she held her between her arms along time, not able as yet to speak to her. At last, when she had recovered the freedom of speech, they expressed their first thoughts one to another, but with much confusion, and for a good while the Queen was able to utter nothing but the name of Elisa, and her dear Daughter. When these transports were a little remitted; O ye great powers above, (said the Queen, lifting up her eyes to Heaven) how infinitely am I obliged to your goodness, that after so many dangers and hardships, not easily supportable by our sex, ye once more grant me a sight of my Elisa; alas! added she, embracing her again, how dear is this sight to me, and with what excess of joy do I now see what I had lost with so much grief?  
She continued for a while her discourses of that nature, and received from the Princess the like discoveries of transportation and tenderness, and at last turning to the Spectators, whose quality she knew, she made her excuses to them in the Roman language, which she had a great command of, and entreated them to pardon, out of a respect to the affection of a mother, the faults it might have made her guilty of. She after this dismissed Elisa to the embraces of the women that were come along with her, and she did the like to Urione and Cephisa, who fell at her knees, and whom with much acknowledgement she commended for their fidelity towards their Mistress.  
These things thus passed while they were yet abroad, Drusus and Maecenas, whose particular charge it was took occasion to remonstrate to the Queen, that the convenience; of the City and Palace were to be preferred before those of the Ship, and thereupon entreated her to go ashore to be conveyed thither in the Chariots they had brought along with them to the Port. The Queen gave one hand to Drusus, and the other to Maecenas, and was by them conducted to land, and with the Princess was put into one of the Chariots; the rest were for the Ladies of her attendance; and the men got on horseback, and guarded them to the Palace. The Emperor came to receive the Queen at the Palace gate; and the Empress, the Princess Julia, and several others of their attendance, expected them them at the bottom of the stairs. This reception was performed with the ordinary Ceremonies though it had seldom, if ever, happened, that the Emperor of the Romans and the Queen of Parthia had been seen together, and after the Emperor had assured the Queen of her welcome into his Territories, and that she found him inclined to do her the civility she might expect from him, she gave him thanks for the protection he had afforded her daughter, and assured him of her own acknowledgements and those of the Parthian State.  
This discourse of the Queens, though not mentioning aught of the King her husband, and the mourning which all the persons of her retinue were in, gave the Emperor occasion to suspect Phraates might be dead; but though it were an accident sufficiently of importance to be generally known, yet did not he conclude any thing certain upon that opinion; so that after the Queen had received the civilities of Livia, and returned her own, with expressions of reciprocal respect, the Emperor conducted the Queen to her Lodgings, and entreated her to rest herself for the remainder of that day, to recover the inconveniences she might have endured upon the sea; and told her, that when she pleased afterwards she might acquaint him with the occasions of her coming though he were satisfied as to somewhat that might have induced her, as conceiving there could not be any thing so dear, or of that importance with her, as the sight of the Princess her daughter. Whereupon the Queen was left the freedom of her own Lodgings, and all those who would have visited her, seeing the day far spent, deferred their visits to the next. Elisa, obliged to stay with the Queen, sent her excuses to Cleopatra and Candace, whose company she quitted not, especially in their affliction; whereto those two fair and disconsolate Princesses returned, that assoon as the Queen had recovered her weariness, they would come and acquit themselves of the civilities they ought her, and that the affliction they were in should not hinder them from congratulating the happiness befallen her.  
The Queen thus left to herself, she again embraced the Princess several times; and perceiving that Artaban would out of respect have retired with the rest, she entreated him to stay, telling him that he was haply no less concerned in her coming thither then the Princess her daughter. Artaban obeyed, not only out of submission, but with a joy at the words he thought so happily ominous; and when she saw there were in her chamber only such persons as she durst well trust, It is but just, said she, addressing her speech to the Princess and Artaban, you should have an account of the State of our affairs, with the occasions of my undertaking this voyage: and though the revolutions that have happened in the Parthian Empire are of great importance, yet will not the discourse thereof prove so long, but that I may give it you myself; my wearinss, and the inconveniencies I have endured, being not such but that I may well go through with it; besides that I shall gladly take the advantage of this little time we have free to ourselves, to inform one another of our conditions, and according to the State of our aftake those resolutions that shall be most expedient.  
With those words having seated the Princess by her, she commanded Artaban to sit down, He would not a good while, but at last the Queen having laid her absolute commands upon him, and the Princess having made a sign to him, he was forced to obey. Whereupon the Queen addressing herself to Elisa, Daughter, (said she to her) you may by the habit you see me in, imagine the change of our condition, and the mourning you see all of our house are in, may satisfy you, as soon as my discourse, that the King your father is departed this world, I doubt not, (continuing she, perceiving Elisa's eyes giving way to the tears that were issuing out) but nature will produce in you an effect, which there might be several reasons no disallow; and though Phraates hath been a cruel person to all of his own House, and to yourself in particular, yet was he your Father, and it is hard the death of a Father, and that in an extraordinary manner effected, should not raise sorrow in a person of a good disposition; but in fine, though he were your Father, you should for your own comfort receive it after another manner then if he had expressed himself in his actions, as he was by nature, especially since it is looked on by all his Subjects, as an effect of divine justice, for reparation of so much bloodas he had cruelly spilt. These things I speak not to blast the memory of my Lord & Husband but in some measure, to alleviate an affliction which hath wrought its effect on me as it now doth on you, and which on me must needs have been more violent through the presence of many objects which might render it more sensible and pressing.  
Having so said, the Queen was forced for some time togive way to the tears of Elisa, whom neither a reflection on the cruelties of Phraates, for which she had had so much horror, nor the joy which she might conceive at her being delivered from the danger that threatened her, could hinder from paying that tribute for the loss of a Father. Yet was her suffering but little in comparison to what she should have felt, had it been for a father of a different nature from that of Phraates, nay, unless it were in a disposition excellent as hers, that news had rather met with joy and consolation. Artaban himself, who in all probability should not have been dissatisfied thereat, and who indeed was not extremely troubled, received it with so much moderation, that even in the apprehension of the Queen, he seemed to be grieved, though he had not observed any discovery of sadness among all the persons of her retinue: at last, when the Princess had recovered herself so as to give attention to the Queen, and that she had herself wiped the tears that stuck in her face, she thus re-assumed the Discourse.  

The History of PHRAATES.  
IT is to our regret, Daughter, that we must acknowledge that King Phraates, my husband and your Father leaves a memory behind him that blasts the glory of the Arsacides, and makes his death looked on as a remarkable stroke of divine justice. He was no sooner come to an age fit to command, but to secure himself in the government, he cut off all his Brothers, defiling the royal house with their innocent blood, and it was with much ado that Prince Tiridates made a shift to escape his fury by a flight that lasted as long as he lived. King Orodes his father, whom he had divested of all authority, supported, not without much grief, the death of so many of his children, whom he saw dispatched by their Brother and being forced by a just resentment to reproach him with his cruelty, this unnatural Son had no more respect to the Father than he had had to the Brothers, but caused the wretched old man to be strangled; whose life had indeed been but too long, since the end of it was to be so horrid spectacles. 'Tis so much the more horror, at least to me, to reflect on these things; for that these actions have been committed by a person whose memory we ought to honour. For which reason it is that I slightly pass them over, nor shall insist much on any of the actions of his life, which have raised him to the reputation of the most cruel Prince upon earth.  
You know, Daughter, the pains I have taken to remit the savageness of his inclinations, by all the power I could derive from the affection he had expressed towards me; as also how often, by opposing his intentions, when I saw him bend upon some unjust and cruel resolution, I have been in danger to run the same fortunes with his Brother. I have often run that hazard, during the course of his Reign, though out of the respect I bore him, I kept it from the world, as much as lay in my power; but more particularly for my endeavours to divert him from the resolution he had taken to have you married to Tigranes. You know all I did to hinder it, and cannot charge me, Daughter, that, either out of fear, or any other consideration, I neglected to make the greatest advantages I could of the small credit I had with him. I spoke, I entreated, I wept, I was no less troubled at it then yourself; and you may well remember, there was little difference between the discoveries of your grief thereat and those of mine: Yet could not all divert him from his cruel design; and I was in the same extremities not long after, when I would have hindered him from sending Artaban loaden with Chains to the King of Media, his professed enemy. I sufficiently represented to him what thoughts all the world would have of his ingratitude towards a person who had preserved his Crown, and made him Master of that of his enemy. I than endeavoured to make him sensible of all the particular obligations we had received from that gallant person; and from that first action of his, whereby he engaged us to him, to the last he had done for us, I omitted not any, whence he might derive sentiments contrary to the cruelty he exercised upon him: But all my discourses, instead of pacifying, exasperated him the more; and after he had cast it in my teeth, that I favoured the unworthy inclinations of his daughter, he threatened me so highly, that I had reason to stand in fear of a thing, which, upon the least eruptions of his displeasure, was so familiar with him as death. You may call to mind in what a sad condition you left me at that strange departure; and how unfortunate soever you might think yourself, yet you concluded my condition to be no happier than your own.  
Some days passed away, wherein Phraates, as it were, cloyed with the revenge he thought he had taken of Artaban, seemed to be pacified, insomuch that he permitted me to spend them in solitude, to bewail, with more freedom, the departure of a Daughter whom I loved so dearly, and saw so unfortunate. Those he admitted to his counsel, had several times represented to him, that having but one only Daughter, and in all probability to be Heir to the Crown, he should either marry her to some Prince of the Royal Blood of Parthia, and not to Tigranes, who was a stranger thereto, a Prince less powerful than himself, and partly dependent on the Roman Empire; or if he were resolved to bestow his Daughter on him, he should still detain her with him, as Heir to a Monarchy incomparably greater than that of her Husband. But though he saw much reason in this discourse, yet did he slight it; and told his Councillors, that he would first punish Elisa for her unworthy carriage in loving a person inferior to her, and conceiving inclinations contrary to those of her Father; that he would send her away, as not being able to endure her sight without aversion; and that he looked not on her as his Heir, hoping yet to have others, his age being such as that he might a long time entertain that hope: Nay, he said further to some of his confidents, from whom I have had it since his death. That if he had any design to leave the Crown to Elisa, he would have taken care it should not come to Tigranes; that he was not so weak in matters of pocy, as to make such a choice; and that if he despaired of other Heirs of my body, his intention was to put me away, or by some other course dispatch me, and marry a young Wife that should bring him Sons fit to succeed him. This was really his design; so that Tigranes had vainly hoped, with the enjoyment of Elisa, the possession of the Parthian Crown. His thoughts ran upon it, and he had haply pitched upon her in his mind who was to succeed in my place; when we find the Medes, to whom he had delivered you to be conveyed to Tigranes, returned again, or at least a small party of them, many of them having been killed in the engagement with the Pirates, and some gone to acquaint their Prince with their misfortune. Those who came to Phraates gave him an account of all that passed upon the Sea, the discourse you had had with Artaban, being in several ships; the engagement with the Pirates; and lastly, the resolution you had taken to seek a retreat out of the Territories of the King of Media, and the discovery you had made thereof, so much to the prejudice of their Master. You may imagine, that in this discourse they omitted no circumstance that might exasperate Phraates against you; and that it was not hard for them to do, as finding him already inclined to the most violent extremities of indignation. He received such impressions as they were desirous he should, and that with so much violence, that he was immediately ready to put in execution what their revenge and his own fury should inspire him with, that were most terrible. He made thousands of imprecations against that Daughter, who he said had dishonoured the blood of Arsaces; and protested with horrible Oaths, that he would arm all things to punish that unfortunate wretch, with the unworthy person that had carried her away, if they were to be found in any place upon earth. Being thus exasperated, he comes to me, in a posture I could not but be frighted at, made me a thousand reproaches of my fondness towards a Daughter that dishonoured his House; and protested, that if he knew I had any hand in that wicked intention, which she had manifested with so much insolence, he would make me know, that neither my Sex, nor the quality of Wife, should exempt me from feeling the effects of his just resentment. I must confess it was with no small satisfaction that I heard of my Daughter's liberty and Artaban's welfare; for whom I had ever had an affection full of acknowledgement and tenderness; but the joy I conceived thereat wanted not an ingredient of disquiet, hearing my Daughter was upon the uncertain waves, not knowing where to take shelter to avoid the displeasure of the King her Father. I implored the assistances of Heaven to be your guide upon that occasion, and remitted all things to the goodness and conduct of the superior Powers, hoping they would not be wanting to you in the great necessity you stood in of their relief.  
In the mean time the King began to execute his revenge upon a great number of innocent persons; and having gotten the names of all those Parthians to whose charge he had committed you, and who, after the engagement with the Pirates, had turned to your side, and resolved to serve and run Fortunes with you, instead of carrying you to the King of Media, he would needs revenge the injury they had done him upon all their Friends and Kindred; and to that end most inhumanely caused all their throats to be cut who had any relation either as to blood or alliance to those persons. Never was there such an example of cruelty and barbarism heard of; every day were brought to execution considerable numbers of innocents', who to no purpose implored the assistances of Heaven, and who, dying, demanded its vengeance for the death they were put to with so much injustice. Many unfortunate people who were neither of kindred nor alliance to those whom he was so desirous to punish, were involved in the same calamity: And if any had a design to be rid of an enemy, all he had to do, was, to acquaint the King, or the instruments of his cruelty, that he had some relation to the guilty; and immediately, without any proof of the information required, he was dragged to execution. Nor was the displeasure of Phraates satisfied with that, but, after he had rooted out the families of those wretches, he would needs destroy all that had been friends to Artaban; and whereas his virtue and great service had raised him a considerable number, there were few excellently qualified persons, and few virtuous men, who saw not themselves exposed to their ruin. Several of the Officers, who had been most eminent for their services in the Wars, and by that means had gained a higher place in the Friendship of Artaban, lost their lives by this misfortune; so that only the less remarkable for their valour, and the most obscure, thought themselves the most safer About the time that the King had put to death his Brothers, several Princes of the blood of the Arsacides had lost their lives with them; nay, he had not spared any one of those who upon account of blood or other considerations any way stood in his light. Among those, Artanez a Prince of the blood of Arsacides, and of the nearest to the Crown, a person of an excellent disposition, full of virtue, and one that had been particularly loved by King Orodes and Prince Pacorus his eldest Son, fearing the same Destiny with the rest, and having understood that Phraates had some ill design upon him, had made an escape, and taken refuge with the King of Media, Father to Tigranes; but at last, after his life had been several times attempted by persons sent and employed by the King to that purpose; he had, by the mediation of several Princes, obtained leave to live upon certain possessions he had purchased upon the Frontiers of Armenia, under the jurisdiction of the Medes, conditionally that he led a private life, and held no correspondence with the Princes his Neighbours, and quitted all thoughts of returning into Parthia till the King sent for him. He had accordingly passed away several years in that solitude, exactly observing what he had promised, and not giving Phraates the least occasion to be dissatisfied with him, or to attempt any thing against him: but resolved to dispatch out of the way all that had been Friends to Artaban, he understood by some of his flatterers, that there was a very intimate Friendship between that Prince and Artaban, that he had held correspondence with him during his abode among the Parthians, and that when the seat of War was removed into Media, he had been very careful to preserve his estate free from the disorders and quartering of Soldiers, and had secret interviews with that Prince.  
This discourse, whether it really raised any jealousy in Phraates, and put him into a fear that Artanez might attempt something against him, or only presented him with an opportunity to be revenged on Artaban by the ruin of his Friend, immediately resolved the destruction of Artanez; a thing he thought might be, effected with more ease than before, by reason of the intelligence which he had with the King of Media, who had given him refuge, and who would make no difficulty to assist him in the ruin of a Friend of Artaban's who was their common Enemy. But his desire was to have him alive into his power, either to put him to some shameful death, or out of some other considerations that might oblige him thereto. To that end he sent away one of the trustiest instruments of his cruelty in the head of a party whom he was confident of, with a recommendation to the King of Media, for the delivery of Artanez, if need were.  
While the Queen continued her discourse, Artaban was in no small torment through the respect which hindered him from interrupting her; insomuch, that at last, not able to Master the disturbance he was in, Ah, Madam, (said he to her) will you not pardon the affection which obliges me to interrupt you, to ask you whether it can be possible I should be so unhappy as to occasion the ruin of Prince Artanez. I am not a little glad at that disturbance, (says the Queen to him) as much confirming what we have been informed, and what I am to acquaint you with, though you know it better than myself, & had no great reason to conceal it from us. You are then to know, Daughter, and you also, Artaban, that the King, expecting Artanez to be brought in, continued the massacres of all those whom he discovered to have held any correspondence with Artaban; insomuch that he was grown so exorbitant in his cruelty, that the Parthians began to to murmur, to threaten, and at last to rise; and particularly several Officers of the Army who had lost their Friends by those bloody executions, and who daily themselves expected the same fate. At last, through the indignation of Heaven, the business came to that height, that one day, the greatest part of the Inhabitants of the City Praaspa, where we than were, together with the Soldiery, seeing one of their companions carried to execution, furiously took up Arms, killed those that conducted the Prisoner, and marched violently towards the Palace. The King having notice brought him of this Insurrection, slighted it; but being a man soon fired into displeasure, he immediately went out of the Palace, attended by his ordinary Guards, and marched towards the place where the Insurrection was, with a design to put all the Traitors to the Sword. But the Gods had otherwise ordered things to come to pass, and thought fit, that having met and charged them in a spacious place, he was mortally wounded with two Arrows, whereof one had taken him in the throat, the other in the heart, so that he fell down dead among his own; who discouraged at his fall, fought but little after. The people, who were encouraged by this, and who after the death of their King were not deliberate what they were to do, run upon the instruments of Phraates' cruelty, and of those that came within their reach, few escaped their fury. They had haply been heightened to some more cruel resolutions (it being no easy matter to quiet a Populace, by just grounds forced into Arms,) if some eminent persons, such as for whom they had no aversion, had not interposed themselves, and represented to them, that they had no more enemies to engage against, nor further subject to exercise their fury on; that all then left in Praaspa were their Friends; and that by death of the King, and those inflexible creatures of his who had served him in his barbarous intentions, they were sufficiently revenged for the loss of their Friends and and Kindred, that of the Bloud-Royal there was not any person left, on whom they might with reason exercise their revenge; that their Princess was absent, and worthy their services and respects, rather than of their resentments; and that for the Queen her Mother, and Widow to the King they had killed, they knew what a disconsonancy there was between her nature and her Husband's; how dearly she had ever loved them, and to what dangers she had many times exposed herself to appease the King on their behalf. The People and Soldiery, contrary to their ordinary carriage, harkened to this discourse, and were beginning to submit themselves thereto; when Prince Artanez, conducted by those who were employed to take him, and had fortunately executed their Commission, was brought to Phraaspa. His conductors finding the face of things altered, cast themselves at his feet, begging their lives, which they easily obtained of him; but with much ado of the People, who would needs punish them for the readiness of their inclinations to execute the cruel Orders of their Prince.  
Artanez being respected by them as one of the Blood-Royal of their Kings, loved by them for his virtue, and that so much the more by reason of his being hated by the King, and ready to be delivered up to execution, as their Friends and Kindred, whom they had revenged, had; they surrounded him with acclamations, calling him Arsacian Prince, worthy the Blood of Arsaces, and declared their readiness to obey him. Artanez finding them so good an humour, entreated them to lay down their Arms, promising them, upon that condition, impunity for what had past; and with the assistance of Timagenes, and other considerable persons, who before his coming had endeavoured to pacific things, he managed all so successfully, that before night all the people were gotten into their houses, and the City was as quiet as if nothing had happened. Artanez, who had looked on that day as the last of his life, and by a revolution which he could not attribute to any thing but divine Justice, saw himself followed by all the Parthians with applause, used his good fortune with much moderation and generosity; and, having caused the King's body with much respect to be taken up, and given order for the burial of the rest, comes to the Palace; where, notwithstanding the aversion I had for the King's death, I was o'erwhelmed with the grief which so unexpected an accident must needs have raised in me, and where I stood in expectation of death through the fright I was in to see an armed Populace which had not spared the life of their King. I trouble you not with a discourse of what I felt during that time, because it would not only prove tedious, but not any way requisite in order to the discovery of those things which I am yet to acquaint you with.  
Having received a punctual acount of what was done by the care of Zoilus, Timagenes, and divers other faithful persons who had provided for my safety, and endeavoured to comfort me, I knew that Artanez was innocent as to the King's death; and afterwards understood what pains he had taken to appease the exasperated multitude, and the respect he had expressed towards the King's memory, though he might well have a just resentment against him; so that seeing him coming in the posture, not of a Prince of the blood of Phraates, but of the humblest of his Subjects, I embraced him with much affection, acknowledged his generosity, and recommended to him the memory of the King my Lord, and the concernments of my daughter. Artanez assured me, that all the mischief was over; that it was to be looked on as a stroke from heaven; and that there was nothing to be feared, provided the promise, which he with Timagenes and divers others had made, were observed, which was, that what was passed should be pardoned, and that the people should not be called to account for a misfortune which the King run himself upon, first by his cruelty, and afterwards by his imprudence in hazarding himself as he had done, and assaulting with so much animosity and so little foresight, an armed and an exasperated multitude. That for his own part, he assured me of his fidelity to the last gasp; and protested he was not glad at the King's death, though he had pronounced the sentence of his, against him; and that that day might haply have been the last of his life, if the Gods had not by so unexpected a resolution prevented it: That the people were ready to honour and acknowledge me for their gracious Queen; that the most eminent persons were the more confirmed in that sentiment; and that all desired the Princes might be sought out and settled in the throne of her Ancestors, with a husband fit to govern them. Such favourable dispositions in the hearts of our Subjects, delivered me from all my fears, and somewhat alleviated my misfortune; and in fine, Artanez did so well, with the assistance of other well-affected persons, that the next day all things were wholly appeased, and the next to that the King's body was disposed among the Monuments of the Arsacides, with little pomp, but with the same Ceremonies, and as if he had died a natural death.  
Two days after, Artanez on whom I disburdened myself of some part of the government, tells me, that the most eminent among the Parthians, and with them the people, though ready enough to obey me, desired a general Assembly, wherein it might be considered what were to be done for the recovery of the Princess, and the joining of her to a husband that should succeed Phraates, and govern them with more moderation than he had done. I thought their desires very just, and suitable to my own intentions, since that they thereby discovered that they looked not on Venonez, Phraates's natural son, who was brought up at Rome, with some pretence to the Crown: so that a day being appointed, all the principal Nobility among the Parthians met, with several representatives of the people, having all freedom of debate about what the whole Nation was concerned in. The first thing resolved on, was, to oppose the pretensions of Venonez, if so be he had any; and to maintain against the Bastard the right of the lawful Princess to the last man. This passed, it was taken into consideration how the Princess should be found out, and that to that purpose such persons should be employed as the State were assured of, and afterward it was proposed that she might make choice of a husband worthy her, and the rank she is to be of: But it was generally declared by all that it should not be Tigranes; that he was a stranger, an Ally, if not, a dependent on the Romans; and which is more, that he was their enemy, and not affected by the Princess, who was not to be denied the liberty of her own choice. There were those among the Soldiery, who gave their Votes that Artaban should be their King; that he was a person not hated by their Princess, that the Crown was due to his valour; and that under such a Prince as Artaban was, they should fear neither the Medes nor the Romans, nor all the forces nor powers of the World. This Discourse was no sooner started, but the Assembly rung again with the name of Artaban, so that the major voice was, that Artaban should be chosen King. But all the most eminent persons among the Parthians being present, and among those, many that were allied to the House of the Arsacides, who were flattered with a hope of being preferred before persons of a lower rank than themselves, there was a considerable number of them that opposed the Proposition made in favour of Artaban; and represented to the multitude that desired him, That Artaban was indeed worthy the Government designed him; that upon the account of his Valour he might aspire to any thing, and that his worth was such as that nothing was too great for him: but that they would not have an unknown person placed in the Throne of Arsaces, which had never been possessed but by Princes of the most illustrious blood in the World; and that those very persons who so much desired him, would in a short time think it a regret to obey a Man, whose Birth, was nothing above their own.  
Several persons had heard this discourse, and it began to get credit among the multitude; when Artanez, who should have been the most likely to countenance it, as being, by reason of his Rank, and the Bloud-Royal whereof he was, the most concerned in it, having with much patience heard the opinions of all the rest, assumes the discourse; and looking on the Nobles and People with such an action as whence they imagined he had some great matter to acquaint them withal. I approve (said he to them) the fidelity of the Parthians, and the zeal they express for the welfare of the State, and the interest of their Queen: and I am to acknowledge it the goodness of the Gods that I am this day in a capacity to satisfy both, according to their just intentions. These gallant Soldiers and brave Men, who, by their Swords, have maintained this Monarchy, have reason to desire for their Prince the same Artaban, under whose conduct they have gained so many famous Victories; and those whom Blood hath raised to the highest Dignities of this Kingdom, desire with justice a Prince for their Sovereign: But to satisfy all, I am now to declare, that Artaban is not only a Prince born, but a Prince of the same Blood with their Kings; that he is descended from the great Arsaces' as well as Phraates; and that this truth will be undeniable when it shall be acknowledged that he is my Son. It is certain, O ye Parthians (continued he) Artaban is my Son, and there are many persons among you who may call to mind that they have seen a Son of mine, of that very name of Artaban, (which was also that of my Father,) and of the same age; who about his tenth year accompanied me in my escape, and whom since, to elude the cruel designs of the King, who attempted his life as well as mine, I sent to be brought up in strange Nations. He came back to me about the beginning of the War between the Parthians and the Medes; and out of the resentment I had against the King, who desisted not his persecutions of me; even in my solitude, I sent him to the service of the King of Media, where, by his Valour, he soon came to the highest Commands in the Army. Yet thought I not fit, even then, to discover this truth; but have still concealed it, though I have had secret conferences with Artaban as with a Friend, and not as with a Son. Nay, I had caused it to be given out, that my Son was lost in his Travels, and the report of it was so much dispersed as to take away all suspicion of his being alive. At last, by what misfortune I know not, the King came to the knowledge of this hidden truth, and it was out of the discovery he made thereof that he caused me to be taken at the place of my solitary abode, with design either to be revenged on the Son by the death of the Father, or to get the Son into his power by the danger which the Father would be exposed to. And this, O ye Parthians, is a truth I shall by pregnant testimonies make appear to you, and which you may believe even upon my bare report, since there is so little likelihood that, if Artaban were not of my blood, I should not only divest myself of all for his sake, but also procure him so great a Fortune to the prejudice of those of my House; a Fortune, I say, where I not so far advanced in age, I might aspire myself, with much more reason than any of those who make any pretensions to it.  
Having so said, Artanez turns to me, asked my pardon for himself and Artaban, that he had concealed from me a truth, which could not come to the knowledge of Phraates, without putting their lives into too much danger; made several persons of the Assembly to acknowledge, that they had seen a Son of his, named Artaban, and who might be much about his age; and at last, as well by his discourse as his deportment both towards me and the people, satisfied all, that Artaban was really his own Son. You are much amazed, (continued the Queen, looking on Artaban, in whose countenance she had observed no small astonishment;) but you have not reason to be so, unless it be for the occasion you have given us to quarrel at your dissidence of us; and methinks I should rather have observed in it some joy at lest as much as there seems to be in my Daughter's, at so unexpected a discovery.  
Elisa blushed at the Queen's discourse, as sensible of her not being able to smother the satisfaction which it had raised in her, and which she had given as much way to as it could be expected she should have done upon the hearing of such happy tidings: but Artaban expressed not any at all, and patiently waited the closure of the Queen's discourse. The Queen attributed that indifference to his modesty; and presently after reassuming her discourse, What have I more to say? (continued she,) of a sudden the whole Assembly was satisfied that Artaban was really the Son of Artanez, and consequently of the Blood Royal of Parthia: it was the more easily believed, by how much it was the more earnestly desired and that Artaban was in all things suitable to that extraction. Then was it that the acclamations of the Assembly were reiterated, and that it was generally desired that Artaban should marry the Princess, and be their King. Those who had opposed it before, desisted, and joined with the rest, and declared they desired no other King then Artaban. You haply expect, Artaban, that I should tell you, I entertained that discovery of your birth with all the satisfaction I was capable of; nay, I may add, I never was surprised with so much at any news in my life; and you may consequently imagine, that I was so far from opposing the desires of the Parthians, that I confirmed them therein by all I could say to your advantage. In fine, it was absolutely concluded in the Assembly, That Artaban, a Prince descended from Arsaces, should be Husband to the Princess, and King of Parthia; and all the Parthians generally declared, they would have no other King then Artaban, and that under such a Prince they doubted not to become Masters of the Universe.  
That done, it was debated what persons should be employed to find out the Princess, as conceiving they they should not only be of the highest quality, but such as lay not under any suspicion that they would attempt any thing that were unhandsome. Divers were nominated; but at last, overcome by maternal affection, and being not overconfident of those that were named, I resolved to find out my Daughter myself, imagining, that if she took resuge with my Brother the King of Libya, he would not easily trust her to any other hands than mine. In fine, I proposed it to the Assembly, who approved my affection; though divers represented to me, that I should not engage myself in a long troublesome, and, it may be, dangerous voyage; nay, it was the general opinion of some, that I should not take shipping, till I had certain notice where my Daughter was; and that to that end, a Messenger should be sent to the King of Lybia, to know whether she were there, and that nothing should be done till his return. But my affection could not brook those delays; and being in a manner satisfied, Daughter, that you were retired to Lybia, as not knowing what other refuge the world might afford you, and hurried on by desire of a woman, whom opposition ordinarily makes more violent, I slighted all hardship and danger to come and find you, and with you the Husband designed you. I shall not trouble you with the particulars of my departure, which was with much precipitation, suitably to the impatience I was in. According to the resolve of the Assembly, I put the Government of the Kingdom into the hands of Artanez, out of a confidence I could not dispose of it better than to a Prince of known virtue, and Father to Artaban; and taking along with me Timagenes, Sosias, and divers others of the most eminent among the Parthians, and the Women you have seen about me, I took shipping, intending for Libya: But having been at Sea some days, we met with an accident which saved us the trouble of a long voyage. 'Twas a ship, wherein was the body of the unfortunate Tiridates your Uncle, under the care of Arsanes, his faithful Governor; who fearing not, as to that poor Prince, what he had all his life avoided, was carrying home the remainders of him to be disposed among the monuments of his Ancestors. I understood the deplorable adventure of that Prince with much astonishment and grief; and having bestowed on him the tears I owed his misfortune, our alliance, and the general reputation of his virtue, I was told by Arsanes that you were in Alexandria, and that it was thought you stayed there in expectation of a change of your Father's disposition. He told me also, that there was a report at his departure thence, of Tigranes▪ s arrival there, and that he had attempted to force you away, but had been prevented by the assistance of Agrippa, who had received you into the protection of Caesar; that these things happened much about the time of his departure; and that he could not have informed himself further, by reason of the violent grief he was in at the strange death of Tiridates, which had made him in a manner careless of all things. Having had this account from Arsanes, we suffered him to pursue his voyage; and quitting our course towards Lybia, made for Alexandria; where, after a dangerous voyage, by reason of foul weather, wherein we were like to have been lost, I am at last safely arrived; and as happily as I could have wished, since I find my Daughter, and with her Prince Artaban, both in a condition to pass away your lives according to my wishes and inclinations, and to go and satisfy the desires of the Parthians, who impatiently expects you to put upon your heads the Crown of their Monarches.  
This was the closure of the Queen's discourse; and she had no sooner given over speaking, but Artaban cast himself at her feet, and embraced her knees with all the discoveries of the greatest and humblest acknowledgement which she could have expected from the meanest of her subjects. The Queen embraced him as a Son; and looking on him as the person who, within a few days was to be King of Parthia, she could not receive those submissions from him, but forced him to rise and seat himself as before. He obeyed her not till he had done the same homage to the Princess, with greater expressions of love and respect than he had ever discovered before. But though he saw her in countenance the marks of a joy she could not well dissemble, yet was there not the least appearance of any in his; and instead of entertaining, with any excess of gladness, the discovery of a happiness to which he aspired, but with very doubtful hopes, he continued in the same posture he was in before the Queen's discourse, nay, seemed rather to be somewhat less cheerful. Elisa and the Queen were not a little dissatisfied thereat; insomuch that the Queen, having a greater confidence than her Daughter upon that occasion, asked him, Whether he found any thing in the discourse she had entertained him with, whence he might derive any sadness? Artaban knew will enough what had given the Queen occasion to put that question to him, and making her answer with certain sighs which forced their way out. Madam, (said he to her,) the Fortune you bring me tidings of is such, as whereof there is not any among men, nay, not among the Gods, life may presume so highly, can entertain the discovery with moderation: but with all this, I can conceive no other joy thereat, then what might proceed from a pleasant Dream; or rather, being built upon a Foundation I shall myself presently shake, I cannot rejoice thereat. I might, Madam, (said he to the Queen,) and I might Madam, (continued he, addressing himself to the Princess,) suffer you to continue in an error which, for aught I perceive, you are much satisfied in, nay, an error which makes infinitely for my advantage: But, may it not please the Gods how great soever the Fortune may be whereto you would raise me, that I should purchase it by a Cheat; and may all my hopes be defeated with my life, before I put any Trick upon my Princess. If Artaban descended only of Noble Blood; or rather, if Britomarius, whose Fortune consists in his Sword, be worthy the glory to serve you, dispose of his life, and make his condition such as you desire it; but if to merit the Honour you would do me, I must be a Prince descended from Arsaces, reserve it for some other whose Birth hath been happier than mine. Not but that I feel something stirring in my heart as great as if I were a Prince of that Blood; but in fine, Madam, I must disclaim it, Artanez is not my Father; and I were too unworthy the Fortune you offer me, should I be won to endeavour it by falsehood and an unjust pretence.  
These words of Artaban, which he uttered with a courage wholly admirable, struck a paleness into the Princess 's countenance, and filled her heart with a sudden grief. She cast her eyes on Artaban, but with a look, such as wherein he could not but observe her displeasure through her grief; and presently after fastened them on the ground, out of an astonishment that suffered her not to speak. But the Queen was not in a like distraction; and after she had a while looked very earnestly on him, Artaban, (said she to him) do you think the Present made you so inconsiderable, that to avoid it you will disclaim a glorious birth, and prefer the condition of a private person, before that of a Prince of the Blood of Arsaces, together with Elisa and the Parthian Crown? I prefer (replies Artaban) the Glory to serve Elisa, before the blood of the Gods, and the Empire of the Universe; but if that glory be reserved for a Prince descended from Arsaces, it is not for the unfortunate Britomarius to pretend thereto. Britomarius is the name I received at my birth; under that name of Britomarius I passed away my younger years in the service of the Queen of Ethiopia; under that name I first served in the Wars under the King of Armenia, and I have had the happiness to make it remarkable therein, by some advantages I derived from my Sword and Fortune: And I will discover to you in few words, if you will give me leave, how I came to that of Artaban; which I have continued, out of a respect to the honour I have had to serve the Princess Elisa under that name, and which, for that very reason, I have preferred before that of Britomarius. This discourse shall not take up many words; and as I looked on this particular of my life as that of least importance, so is it that only which my Princess hath not had an account of.  
After I had rendered some considerable services to the King of Armenia, in the War he was engaged in against the King of Media, and which made the name of Britomarius known in his Armies and Dominions by some fortunate successes; having not been able to dissuade him from a cruelty he exercised on certain Princes I had taken prisoners, and having disengaged myself from him, upon the opposition I would have made of a most injurious and ungrateful treatment, I, much dissatisfied, quitted his service, and left his Dominions, with a design to follow the Wars elsewhere, and fasten on the occasions of acquiring Fame, which I preferred before all things. With these thoughts I took my way, having not many persons about me, as being unwilling to make any advantage of the services I had done that cruel King; when coming to the Frontiers between that Kingdom and Media, and crossing a thick Wood, I at first heard a confused noise, accompanied with certain cries; and soon after, coming up to see what the matter was, I found several persons engaged in an unequal combat, or rather in a base and villainous assassinate. Divers men, armed all over, and well mounted, had set upon a single man, who, without any other arms then his Sword, was Hunting in the Wood with some Servants no better furnished than himself; and being a person of much valour, that disadvantage hindered him not from disputing his life. Many of his Servants were already laid dead at his feet, and his Horse having received several wounds was fallen under him, and yet he defended himself with much courage, though little hope of life; and in all probability it would not have been long ere he had received his death, when I came in to his assistance. I conceived a sudden horror at the unworthiness of those barbarous Villains; and satisfied what I was to resolve on, I fell upon the most daring of them, and soon dispatched the forwardest out of my way. Some of my Retinue seconded me with gallantry enough; insomuch that our relief proved so effectual, that in a short time the man saw most of his enemies gnawing the earth, and those that were alive shifting for themselves.  
This done, perceiving the man was a foot, bleeding by reason of several wounds he had about him, and seeming to be a person of quality, I alighted; and having lifted up the visor of my Head-piece, I came up to him to ask him, whether he stood in any further need of our assistance? But he no sooner cast his eyes on my countenance, but retreating back with a certain astonishment, and then coming up to me with his arms stretched out, Ah, my Son, (said he to me) ah, my dear Artaban, is it possible I see you again, and do you return from the dead, among whom Fame hath reported you, to save your Father's life? I was satisfied by those words, that the man mistook himself, and not willing to leave him in that error, I am not your Son, (said I to him) nor is my name Artaban; but am very glad I have done you the service which you think you have received from him. I perceive indeed, (replied the man with less confidence than before) that you are not Artaban; and though at a further distance I took you for him, looking more earnestly on you, I am convinced of my mistake; and the more I consider you, the more I am satisfied of it; and withal, that I am not so happy as to have a Son whose person and valour might be compared to yours. In fine, whoever you are, I am obliged to you for my life; and what acknowledgement soever I may have for its Preserver, yet is it below the admiration I have for your person, and all things in you  
To these he added many other things in my commendation, which I attributed to the resentment he had of the service I had done him; and at last he entreated me to go along with him to a House he had not far thence, but with such earnestness and affection as that I could not deny him; besides that, seeing him wounded in several places, I conceived I ought not to leave him till I had seen him dressed, and out of all danger of a second attempt from his enemies. We came to a House sumptuous enough, though very solitary, and found there a considerable number of Servants, persons well accoutred, to satisfy me that their master was a man of considerable quality. In the entertainment he gave me at his House, and in all his deportment towards me, he made so great discoveries of affection, that he could not have done more, though I had really been the Son he thought lost, and that Artaban for whom he had taken me.  
After he had caused me to be disarmed, and being put into bed, had his wounds searched, which proved but slight; entreating me to sit down by the bedside, and embracing me several times, with demonstrations of an extraordinary affection, Since I must (said he to me) have been obliged to a man for my life, I praise the Gods that it hath been to such a one as yourself, a person for whom at the first sight, my inclination was greater than my resentment. But that you may no longer be ignorant of his name who owes you the Air he breathes, out of a hope that I may on the other side know that of my deliverer; I am to tell you, that my name is Artanez, Son to Artaban, whose Grandfather was King of Parthia; and consequently you understand that I am a Prince of the Blood of Arsaces, and descended from the Royal House of Parthia. But if my Birth be illustrious, my Fortune is deplorable; and you now behold a Prince, who, to avoid the cruelty of a King, against whom he stands guilty of no other offence then that of being too near a Kinsman to him, passes away, in exile and obscurity, a life, which, had it not been for your assistance, he had this day lost by the Orders of that barbarous man.  
Whereupon he made a relation of all his Fortunes, and acquainted me how he had been forced to leave the Court of King Phraates, about the time that he put to death his Brothers and all of his Kindred he could lay hold on, that he had brought away all his money and jewels, and made his escape with an only Son, named Artaban, from the Grandfather; that after much wand'ring up and down, having sound refuge in Media, between whose King and that of the Parthians there was no good intelligence, he had resolved to continue there, and to pass away the remainder of his life in peace and solitude; that, to that end, having found that place pleasant enough and suiting with his humour, which was much inclined to Hunting, he had, with the money and jewels he had sold, purchased certain Houses in that Province, and particularly that where we then were, and which was his ordinary seat, since the death of the King, Father to Tigranes, who had often entertained him at his Court; that to secure his Son from the attempts of Phraates against his life, he had caused him to be privately brought up in Greece, so as that he had not seen him above two or three times in many years; that much about two years before he came to see him in a condition which raised in him very great hopes, but that not long after he had heard, to his infinite sorrow, that he died in Cyprus; that the King of Parthia had often sent Villains to murder him, out of whose hands he had miraculously escaped; and that no question it was by his Orders that he had been set upon that day, there being no enemies whom he could suspect engaged in any such design.  
To these he added many other particulars of his Fortune which are not unknown to you, Madam; and having given me this account of himself, he entreated me to give him my name. I made no difficulty to do it; but when I told him it was Britomarus, and that he knew me, by reason of the small distance there was between that Country and Armenia, to be the same Britomarus, who, in the service of the King of Armenia, had done very remarkable actions, he seemed out of himself for joy, and gave me those commendations which were no more my due then what I had received from him before. He told me several times that he thought himself obliged to the attempt of his enemies upon him, since it had proved an occasion of his gaining my acquaintance, and that if he might purchase my Friendship, he would value it beyond all he had lost through the cruelty of the King of Parthia.  
Having in consequence to this, had an account of my Fortune, and understood that I had neither Country, nor any Revenues, but what I derived from my Sword, he entreated me, with affectionate tears, to become Master of all that Fortune had left him; told me, that Death having deprived him of his only Son, he should think himself but too happy if I would take his place, and be to him in stead of a Son; that he desired not I should pass away my life in solitude; and that it was but just I employed, to advance myself, a Sword which would haply one day raise me to a Throne: but in the interim, that I would accept; in order to the prosecution of my designs, part of what he had to dispose; and that if Fortune, either by the change or death of Phraates, restored him to those great possessions which he had left among the Parthians, I should have as much command there as if I were his own Son; and that it would be the greatest satisfaction in the World to him, he might leave them to me at his death as if I were descended from him.  
The acknowledgements of that good Prince moved me in such manner, that I could not receive so many discoveries thereof without confusion; and they withal raised in me so much affection and respect for him, that had I really been his Son, I could not have honoured him more. He in a short time recovered of his wounds; but it was impossible for me to part with him so soon; and had he not been jealous of my reputation, and persuaded I was born for great things, he would never have been content I should have left him. During my abode with him, we understood, that the King of Armenia had been beaten out of all the advantages he had gained, by the relief which his enemy had received from the Prince of Cilicia, and King of Cappadocia, and that thereupon a Peace had been concluded between them by the interposition of Augustus, who had employed his Authority to reconcile them. But soon after came news, that Tigranes had hardly the time to breathe by the peace made with the Armenian, but the King of Parthia, dissatisfied with him upon some slight occasions, and, as was reported, partly for the refuge he had afforded Artanez, brought a War upon him, and went in person into Media with a powerful Army, putting all to Fire and Sword, and leaving every where the horrid examples of his cruelty.  
Having heard all the world speak with horror of the inhumanity of Phraates, and that the affection I had for Artanez obliged me to hate his persecutor. I immediately felt a certain inclination within me to serve Tigranes against the King of Parthia; and all my thoughts being bend upon the War, I thought I could not meet with a nobler occasion, nor one more suitable to my humour, to give Artanez some assurances of the acknowledgements I had for his Friendship. I had no sooner made the Proposition to him, but he approved it; and that so much the rather, for that this obliged me to be nearer him than would those occasions of War which I should have sought out elsewhere: and when he saw that his concernment, and the aversion I had couceived against his enemy in some measure obliged me thereto, it much heightened the affection he had for me. But telling him, upon the discovery of my design, that if I engaged myself in the service of Tigranes, I would change my name, as having under that of Britomarus done service for the King of Armenia against Tigranes, which no doubt had made it known to him, and might have raised some resentment in him against me; I am clearly of your opinion (said he to me) and think it not fit you should present yourself to Tigranes under the name of Britomarus, or at least not discover it to him, till such time as you have by some signal action forced out of his thoughts the resentment which your past actions may have raised in him against you. But since you think it requisite to change your name, let me entreat you by all the Friendship you have promised me, and by all that I have for you, to take that of Artaban, who was my Son by blood, but as to affection was not more mine than you are; it is by that name of Artaban that I first called you, and I have a certain inspiration, that under that name of Artaban I shall one day see you advanced beyond your own expectations.  
I willingly took on me the name which Artanez was pleased to give me, with this protestation, that he who had born it had not had a more sincere respect for him then that which I should have while I lived. But to what end, Madam, should I tyre you with a long discourse of a business of so little consequence? In fine, though I was much against it, Artanez, treating me as his Son, as he had given me his name, ordered me a Retinue much more noble than what I had brought with me out of Armenia, went himself along with me to King Tigranes, and presented me to him as a person of admirable valour, and one whom he was obliged to for his life. He made no mention to him of Britomarus; but gave such a character of me, as obliged him upon his aecount, to put me upon a very honourable employment. What happened to me afterward, is, Madam, come to your knowledge, and you have not forgotten that Tigranes was unfortunate, and lost several Battles, and part of his Kingdom, while I had but an inferior command about him. But when by certain degrees, which I run through suddenly enough, I came to the place of General, and that Tigranes trusted me with the absolute command of his Army, you know Fortune put on another face, I gained many Battles, and so proceeded to those other actions of my life which you have had an account of.  
During that time I often saw Artanez, who with an excess of joy was confirmed in the hopes he had conceived of me; and when Tigranes' breach of promise, the service of the Princess, and my own Destiny had made me quit his party, to come into yours, Artanez's affection towards me continued the same. Nay, I prevailed with the King, to suffer him to live in his solitude, and to forbear all further attempts on his life; but durst not solicit for his return into Parthia, not out of a fear of incurring the displeasure of Phraates, (for I would have run a greater hazard to serve such a Friend) but lest I might unadvisedly expose him to the mercy of a man, near whom I could never have thought him secure, what engagement soever he might give me thereof. During the War, which afterwards carried us into Media, I did what he desired, and would have done more but he entreated me to forbear, lest he might raise against him both Tigranes and Phraates, as expecting no quiet or security but in the condition wherein he was. In fine, amidst all the revolutions of my misfortune, our Friendship was continued by a correspondence by Letters; and I found his upon all occasions such as he might really have had for that Son whose name he had bestowed on me, and which I have kept, to the contempt of my own, as well for his sake, as for the honour I have had, under that name, to consecrate my life to the service of my Princess. Thus, Madam, have you an account how I am Son to Artanez, thus have you seen how I am a Prince descended from Arsaces. Imagine with yourself, with what regret I disclaim an honour which would be envied by all the Princes in the world; but an honour withal which is much more considerable to me, upon the account of the Princess Elisa, then upon that of the Parthian Crown, were the Empire of the Universe annexed thereto.  
Artaban disburdened himself of these lastwords with those discoveries of tenderness, which all the greatness of his courage could not smother; and the Princess was so troubled thereat, that it was hard for her to dissemble the effect they produced in her thoughts. Not long before she had been incensed against him for disclaiming a name whereby he should become her Husband with the consent of all; but having, during his discourse, examined his intentions, and the openness of his soul which suffered him not to be guilty of falsehood towards his Princess in an emergency of that importance, and to purchase her and a great Empire by an untruth, and a cheat she might afterwards have reproached him with, she had other thoughts of him, and was more and more confirmed in the admiration she had for the transcendency of his soul. Yet would she not say any thing before the Queen, as respectfully desirous to know her thoughts before she discovered her own: and the Queen, in whom the procedure of Artaban had heightened the esteem she had for him, was extremely troubled at his disacknowledgment of a birth that so much furthered the inclinations she naturally had for him. The affliction she conceived thereat, made her continue a good while silent, having her eyes fastened on the ground, with an action which sufficiently discovered her disturbance, which caused those which were much more cruel in Artaban; but at last lifting them up, and fastening them on Artaban's countenance, after a manner wholly passionate: Might it have pleased the Gods (said she to him) that you had been less generous, and suffered us to continue in errors so much to our satisfaction and your advantage. I should have died rather, (replies Artaban;) and though I were no enemy to falsehood, as I naturally am, yet had I disclaimed a life (a thing I could much more easily part with then such glorious pretensions) rather then basely surprise a Princess I adore, by a cheat which she would never have pardoned; and it will be much more easy for me to recover the loss which I may derive from this acknowledgement of the truth, though nothing but death can give me perfect ease, thenit would have been for me to pardon myself a treachery which no passion, no pretention whatsoever could justify.  
The Queen harkened to those words with admiration, which in a manner convinced her, that a person so extraordinary must be of a birth much beyond what he seemed to be. She thereupon continued silent a while, as one in a strange suspense what to think; and at last looking on the Princess her Daughter, with an action which satisfied her of the uncertainty she was in, Daughter, (said she to her) you see me in a great distraction of thought, and trouble out of which I find it hard for me to disengage myself: You may contribute much to my quiet, and by the assurance you have that I have ever furthered your desires, you may let me know your resolutions. I neither could, nor aught to have made any such discourse to you, while you were under the power of a Father; but now that you condition is otherwise, and that the Parthians acknowledge you for their lawful Queen, and her whose consent is to give them a King, I am to deal otherwise with you, and leave you at liberty to discover your own intentions. The blushes that spread into Elisa's countenance, hindered her a long time from speaking; but at last, doing her disposition a little violence upon that occasion of that importance; Madam, (said she to the Queen,) it is neither the death of the King my Father, nor any other consideration whatsoever, shall dispense with the obedience and submission I owe your commands, but I shall inviolably comply therewith, how contrary soever they may be to my most violent inclinations. Artaban can assure you, that I have persisted in that resolution, and that neither a respect to his services, nor the affection I may have for him, have prevailed with me to do any thing beyond it: but if, out of the goodness you have ever expressed towards me, and to which I would owe all things, rather than to any change of my condition, you give me the liberty to satisfy you of my inclinations, and the resolution I should take, if my will depended not on yours, I am to tell you, that Artaban, though not a Prince born, seems to me greater upon the account of his Virtue, than all the Princes upon earth, and that such as he is, when it comes to my choice, I shall prefer him before all the men in the world. Elisa spoke this with confidence more than natural in her; nor could Artaban hear the closure of her discourse without casting himself on his knees before her, and rendering her adorations proportionable to the greatness of the favour she did him. The Queen, for some short time, seemed, as it were, surprised at the discovery she had made; but soon after recovering herself into her ordinary serenity, Daughter, (said she to her) you have taken a resolution of great weight, such, as no doubt on which you have bestowed much reflection before you were fixed therein. Those who would not approve it might haply find reason enough to oppose it, as there is on the other side much to justify it: but what ere may may be the issue, I shall, for my part, further it, and am so well satisfied as to the worth of Artaban, and have so dear a remembrance of the services we have received from him, as not to disallow the declaration you make in his favour. For, Daughter, though Artaban were not a Prince born, yet is he worthy your affection merely upon the account of his virtue, and the services he hath done us, and, among all mankind, you could not have made a more rational choice, nor haply one more suitable to my inclinations. Only I shall entreat him, upon motives of necessity and great importance, that he would continue the Parthians in the account which Artanez hath given them of him, and let all the world believe that he is a Prince of the blood of Arsaces': this persuasion will establish his Government with more security, will take away the dissatisfactions of the most eminent among the Parthians, and will clear you and me of all the accusations which might be put up against us, Artaban entertained this discourse of the Queen with such eruptions of joy, which he could not suppress otherwise then by the same submissions which he had made to the Princess; and being pressed to make the Queen some answer, concerning her desire that he should take upon him to be Artanes' son, As I am not (said he to her) obliged to do that for the Parthians, nor all mankind besides, which I am for my Princess, so am I not by any reason compelled to give the Parthians that account of my birth which with all sincerity I should to my Princess: and so I shall be content they believe me of the blood of Arsaces, nay, of that of the Gods, if they will, and suffer them to persist in an opinion which is glorious to me and that so much the rather, for that they have received it of themselves, and that I have not attributed ought thereto. Mean time, Madam, (continued he, casting himself again at the Queen's feet,) give me leave to render you what we owe our Guardian-Gods and to assure you, that though you raise me to a Fortune beyond the highest pretensions, yet shall you not make me forget that I am Britomarus, rather than Artaban; and that among all your natural subjects you shall not find any more submissive, or more faithful. To this he added other protestations, whereby he expressed his gratitude towards the Queen and Princess, so that at last the Queen seemed to be no less satisfied than himself with the resolution had been taken for his advantage. But after that interval of joy there was to succeed another of grief; for the Princess, being obliged to give the Queen an account of what she knew of her adventures, & her condition in the Court of Augustus, after she had made her tremble at the relation of the dangers she had run through, by her meeting with the Pirates, the loss of Artaban, and her own captivity, and raised her spirits again by that of her arrival in Alexandria, her finding of Artaban, and the good entertainment she at first received from Augustus, passed to the story of the love of Agrippa, the persecution she suffered from the Emperor; and at last to the cruel declaration he had made to her that very day, and the choice he had put her to, either of marrying Agrippa, or being returned into hands of the King her Father; adding to this discourse, that the Gods had sent her to her assistance, when it was absolutely necessary; and that if she had stayed but a day longer, she would haply have found her in some deplorable condition. The Queen was vexed to the heart at the procedure of Augustus; & thought it very strange, that to countenance his Favourite he should violate the privileges of Hospitality, and would usurp an unjust Authority over a Princess, who might dispute precedence with any of her Sex in the World.  
After she had expressed her dissatisfaction by some complaints against him, she in some measure comforted and re-assured the Princess, by telling her, that the change of her condition was such, as that she might slight the threats of Augustus; that she could not imagine he durst force her to marry Agrippa; that it was in his power to have put her into the hands of the King her Father, and might have effected it; but that she could not believe he would do, to a Queen of Parthia, a public violence, which would raise against him the interests of all those Kings that were not tributary to him; and that she would make no difficulty to declare to him, that her Daughter was promised to Artaban, a Prince of the Blood-Royal of Parthia, whom the Parthians desired for their Sovereign. After this resolution taken, as also that of opposing, to the utmost, the pretensions of Tigranes, if he persisted therein; the Princess acquainted the Queen with what passed, that were of importance, at Alexandria, among so many illustrious persons as were then in that City; gave her the names of all the most considerable and an account of their most remarkable adventures. She particularly on the concernment she took in those of the Princess Cleopatra and Queen Candace; and by the short discourse wherewith she entertained the Queen thereof, she raised in her a great compassion for the misfortunes of two such illustrious Princesses; as also abundance of acknowledgement for the generous proffers of that famous King of Scythia, of whom she had with admiration heard so much, and whose sight she was desirous of, as that of an extraordinary person.  
While things stood thus at the Queen of Parthia's, and that at the Princess Cleopatra's and the Queen of Aethiopia's there was nothing but fear and despair, Livia was with Tiberius, much joyed to see him escaped the mortal danger that had threatened his life, and on the other side much troubled too see him exposed to the torments which his unfortunate passion forced him to. She had several times endeavoured to cure him of it; and the predominant passion in her being that of Ambition, she would have been more glad to see him make his addresses to one of the emperor's Neices, then to the Princess Cleopatra; and considered the advantages he might make of Caesar's alliance, more than the attractions and divine excellencies of Anthony's Daughter. Tiberius himself, who was no less ambitious than amorous, and who, upon the predictions of Thrasyllus, who was still about him, had entertained some pretensions to the Empire, would himself have gladly been rid of that violent love, which made him spend the choicest part of his life in unhappiness and torment. Nay, it was some trouble to him, to disturb the fortune, and persecute the life of a person, who with so much generosity had given him his own, and when he did it, would not oblige him to disclaim his pretensions to Cleopatra. Upon these considerations, he often wished his own recovery, but still ineffectually; for that, notwithstanding all his endeavours, the Idea of the fair Cleopatra would not out of his thoughts. At last, the Empress perceiving she could not, to her own desires, contribute to the settlement of his greatness, would needs further that of his satisfaction; and, if possible, assure him of Cleopatra, since the preservation of his life was dependent thereon. It came at last into her mind, that the life of Coriolanus was such a hindrance to his enjoyments as nothing could remove; and whereas she was highly exasperated against him, as having two several times reduced her Son to the extremeities of life and death, she thought no solicitation of Augustus was to be omitted as to that particular, and that it was by the death of Coriolanus that Cleopatra must be gained to be Tiberius'; and that, on the otherside, it was a shame to her not to dispatch out of the way an enemy who had twice brought her Son to death's door, as it were in her arms. She communicated her design to Tiberius, but he approved it not; for besides that, though he were of a cruel and revengful nature, he was a person of much courage, and dreaded she shame it was, by such ways, to compass the death of a man who had treated him so generously, he could not imagine that his death would any way facilitate his possession of Cleopatra; and calling to mind that the pretended infidelity of that Prince, whence he might better have hoped it, had not been able to produce that effect on his behalf, he was persuaded his death would occasion the contrary, and raise in that Princess the highest resentment and greatest aversion that could be against him. Upon these reasons, which he urged to the Empress, he entreated her not to prosecute the death of Coriolanus; but rather, by soliciting for his life to procure him to possession of Cleopatra; and to have a Message sent to that Princess by order from the Emperor, That if she would marry Tiberius, she should save the life of Coriolanus, which otherwise would be assuredly lost. Livia found some probability in that Proposition; and having that very day started it to the Emperor, she so managed the influence she had over him, that he was content Cleopatra should have the choice of either Coriolanus' death, or a marriage with Tiberius.  
This resolution was hardly taken, when Prince Marcellus comes into the, Emperor's Closet. Livia upon his coming in went away; and as all the thoughts of that young Prince were taken up with the safety of his Friend, so he never appeared before the Emperor but he renewed his solicitations on his behalf. The Emperor, who till then had put him off with cruel menaces against the Son of Juba, heard him at that time with more patience then ordinary; and when he had given over speaking. I shall for your sake, Marcellus (said he to him,) do that which otherwise I should not have done for that insolent person, by whom I have been so highly affronted; and though I have protested, that no consideration should prevail with me to spare his life, yet is there one way left to you to save him, which you are not to neglect, since it is all you are to expect: in a word, his life is in the hands of Cleopatra; she may save it, if she will marry with Tiberius. If it be dear to her, she may do her inclinations so much violence as to save it; if that be not a motive strong enough to oblige he she can blame none but herself, nor regret the loss of it with any justice. Be yourself the Messenger of this news to her, and use the influence you have over her to dispose her thereto▪ since it is the only means you have to save a person for whom, though my greatest enemy, you pretend so much Friendship.  
Marcellus was at such a loss at the Emperor's discourse, that he knew not what to say; insomuch that having looked on him a while without making any answer, And is this (said he to him at last) all the favour you do me for Coriolanus? It is greater (replied the Emperor) then should be slighted, as being contrary to the resolution I had taken, and the protestations I had made not to grant it any man. I know not, my Lord, (replied the Prince very coldly,) whom you have done it to; not certainly to the Friends of Coriolanus. The favour you now offer would be more cruel to him then the death you threaten him with; and Tiberius, who cannot suffer him to live but upon so hard a condition, should remember, that he gave him his life without any. You will pardon me if I make not this Proposition to Cleopatra; it is too much at a distance with the respect I have for her, and the assurance I have of her courage and virtue: But if I can prevail with you no further on the behalf of a Friend, whose admirable endowments are adored by all the world, one from whom you have received considerable services, and whose misfortunes I have myself aggravated, through the cruel artifices of his enemies, I shall resolve, my Lord, to die with him, and leave you absolutely free to bestow on Tiberius, to whom you sacrifice him, the favours you had designed for me.  
With which words he went out of the Closet and left the Emperor partly troubled, and partly incensed at what he had said, but still constant to his resolution against Coriolanus. Nor was he ever the more moved at the entreaties of Julia, who came into the Closet as soon as Marcellus was departed, though she employed all her interest and eloquence on the behalf of Coriolanus and Caesaria, as well upon the desires of Cleopatra, Candace, and Marcellus, as out of her own inclination, and the compassion she had for the misfortunes of those two Princes The generous Octavia came not long after, and renewed the solicitations she daily used to the same effect: but what affection and respect soever the Emperor might have for her, yet could not all her meditation prevail aught with him, insomuch that the Princess, who was acquainted with his inflexible humour, was afraid, not without reason, it would go hard with Coriolanus. That very day the Emperor sent Sempronius to the Princess Cleopatra, to acquaint her with his resolution, and the means she had to save the King of Mauritania life, if she would accept of it. The respect which the presence of Cleopatra forced on all that saw her, obliged Sempronius to deliver his message with greatest mildness he could; but at last; he gave her to understand, that it was only by her marriage with Tiberius that she could save Coriolanus' life.  
The Daughter of Anthony entertained this discourse of Sempronius with her ordinary constancy and moderation; and when he had said all he could to persuade her, I expected (said she to him) that the Emperor would not have employed his Authority to force me to a marriage with Tiberius, as relying on the promise he had made me, and the Oath he had taken to forbear. You see, Madam, (says Sempronius to her,) that he doth not herein employ his Authority, since he leaves you at liberty, and offers you, as an acknowledgement of your compliance toward him, the life of an enemy whom he had resolved to sacrifice to his just resentments. His resentments (replied the Princess) are not haply so just in the apprehensions of all the world, as they are in yours; and there are few persons condemn the King of Mauritania 's maintaining his pretensions against his Rival by his valour, as he ever did, and not by base artifices; or question whether he may not, with justice, regain the Throne of his Ancestors, which the Romans were possessed of only by usurpation, and not with any legal right. In fine, Sempronius you may tell Caesar, that the life of Coriolanus is indeed at his disposal, through the ill fortune that hath brought him into his power, but not with justice; that he hath the same right over mine; but that he is not the Master of our Wills and inclinations, which are not subject to any Empire, nor any revolution of fortune; that he may well put to death a King whom he keeps in chains; and that I shall have the courage to die with him, were it only to give him those assuranes of my affection which may be more cruel to me then those are desired of me; that to save his life, I would submit to misfortunes more insupportable to me were it possible, than the marrying of Tiberius; but that he would rather lose it after the most cruel manner that Augustus can desire, then save it upon those terms, and that I am confident Coriolanus will prefer Death before the sight of my being Wife to Tiberius. The love of life is so natural to men, (replied Sempronius) that Coriolanus will haply prefer it upon those conditions, before the death that is designed him. Do you know the King of Mauritania well? (replies the Princess.) No question but I know him (replies Sempronius) for a Prince of great courage, and one whom the fear of death could not hitherto divert from the most dangerous enterprises; but, Madam, be pleased to consider, that the death which a man defies in fight is much different from that which Augustus may put Coriolanus to; & there are many persons who, as he, have slighted it in combats, yet have not been able to endure the horrid appearance of it, when it hath presented itself under another form. If what you say be true, (replies the Princess, with an action whence Sempronius imagined she was in some measure persuaded,) there is yet a possibility to save the life of Coriolanus by the satisfaction of Tiberius, since I would not have it thought I am so much against the enjoyments of Tiberius, as the death of Coriolanus. So that you may tell Caesar, that if Coriolanus will receive his life upon the condition proposed to us, I shall endeavour to preserve it; and that I shall not fear any reproach from that action, if I do it with his consent: but that to be satisfied of it I would have it from his own mouth, and that there is not any person in the world whom I will trust in this business; that I will visit the Prince, when he will give me leave to do it; that I will speak to him before such persons as he would have present at our discourse; and that when I have his resolution, though it prove such as you hope it, you shall be sure of my compliance therewith.  
Though Sempronius was of opinion that the Princess made this proposition merely to have the opportunity to see Coriolanus, and sufficiently satisfied that that Prince would rather embrace death then consent to the marriage of Cleopatra with Tiberius; yet he pretended more satisfaction at this discourse then what had passed between them before, and undertook to give an account of it to Caesar, and to do what lay in his power to persuade him to the interview of Coriolanus and the Princess, As soon as Sempronius was departed, the Princess giving way to a Rivulet of tears, whereof she had stopped the current in his presence; O Fortune, (cried she,) it is time to get out of thy tyranny, and the day is now at hand wherein I hope to see the end of thy insupportable persecutions; I have indeed with too much earnestness disputed with thee a wretched life which is not worth our contestation whereas by losing it, as no doubt I shall be able to to do, I shall exempt myself from the unknown continuation of thy crueltics. But, O ye Gods! (added she presently after) it is not the life of Cleopatra that lies at the stake, but a life much more dear to Cleopatra then her own, which is to be sacrified to the malice of her fortune; the present she would make of her own cannot preserve it, and the ransom which is demanded for it is more terrible to her then the most dreadful instrument that it is to take it away. Thus was she bemoaning herself, when the fair and and virtuous Antonia, her dear Sister, comes into the Chamber; and she hardly wiped off her tears, when the generous Octavia came in also, and employed all the power which her more than maternal affection gave her over the Princess, to make her capable of some comfort.   
The end of the Second Book.   

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA; OR Loves Masterpiece. Part. XII.  
LIB. III.  
ARGUMENT.  
Augustus' secretly encourages Tigranes to renew his pretensions to Elisa, purposely to oppose Artaban, favour Agrippa, and retard the Queens' and Princess' departure from Alexandria. Artaban is, by Order from the Emperor, confined to his Lodgings, and a Guard set upon him, The Queen of Parthia hath audience of Augustus, with whom she expostulates about the imprisonment of Artaban, whom she is permitted to visit; and is followed to his Lodgings by an unknown person, who proves to be Briton, the reputed Father of Britomarus; who entertaining the Queen and Princess with the History of himself and Britomarus, discovers Artaban to be Son to Pompey the Great, born after his death, and brought up by Briton as his own. Caesario and Coriolanus are still continued prisoners in the Castle. Cleopatra is permitted to go to Coriolanus, to propose to him the saving of his Life by her Marriage with Tiberius: but she resolves rather to die with him, and will not be gotten out of the Prison from him. All the Princes that were about Augustus 's Court, solicit the Emperor on behalf of the prisoners, but to little effect. A difference between Archelaus and Tigranes, upon a promise made by the latter to marry the Princess Urania. The Queen of Aethiopia 's Design to raise an Insurrection in Alexandria discovered to the Emperor; who is upon resolutions to put Coriolanus to death, but is diverted by Marcellus, upon his engagement to persuade Coriolanus and Cleopatra to comply with the desires of Augustus.  
NOr was the Emperor less in disturbance for the quiet of Agrippa then for that of Tiberius: nay, that of the former had no question been much more considerable with him than that of the latter, if the interest of Livia joined to the esteem which he had for her Son, had not in his apprehensions overbalanced the affection which he had for Agrippa. The arrival of the Queen of Parthia had somewhat surprised him, insomuch that he was of opinion that it would have proved prejudicial to his designs; but upon further thoughts of it, he took encouragement, out of a confidence that he might bring a Woman's will to what he pleased; and ere the day was past, he understood, by persons whom he had sent to that purpose, and who had cunningly addressed themselves to those about the Queen, the revolutions happened in the Empire of Parthia, the death of Phraates, the Love of Artaban, who was a Prince of the blood of the Arsacides; and the design which the Queen and all the Parthians had to marry him to Elisa.  
This troubled Augustus extremely; and perceiving thereby, that to bring Elisa to his desires, he could no longer pretend the fear she was in of falling into her Father's power, nor the obstacle which the birth of Artaban brought upon the favourable intentions which she had for him before he was known to be a Prince born; he sought out other artifices to cross them, as being resolved on the one side to further the enjoyment of a person he dearly loved, and one whom he was in some measure obliged to for his own Fortune; and on the other, not absolutely to quit the hope of submitting to the Roman Empire a Monarchy such as that of the Parthians. Not but, considering the absolute condition he was in, he might very well have waved all those difficulties, and done any thing upon the account of his Authority, if he had been willing to discover an open tyranny; but since his being peaceable Master of the Empire, he was desirous to raise himself among the people the reputation of a just and moderate Prince, and to be accounted a person who in all his actions would chequer Justice with the Sovereign power. On the other side, he knew, by the trials which the Romans had to their disadvantage made, that the power of the Parthians was no despicable power; and that in offering any indignity to their Queen, and to him whom they demanded for their King, he reinflamed a cruel and bloody War with that great Monarchy, and such as had proved fatal to the Romans under Crassus, who with his Son had lost their lives in it, and all their Forces, and such as had been disadvantageous under Anthony himself, whose engagements there had turned to his loss and confusion. Add to this, that the presence of so many Kings as were then in his Court, and particularly that of Scythia, remitted much of the freedom which he wished he might take to follow his own sentiments, as being unwilling to have so great Witnesses of a violence and injustice of that importance, if so be he durst commit it for the enjoyment and interest of his Friend.  
All these reasons made him resolve on the Design which he had to secure the Princess of Parthia and Artaban, to find out such pretences as should encourage him to do it with some appearance of Justice. For Artaban, he thought he had enough, upon the account which had been given him of the secret conferences which he had with Prince Caesario, as being such as made him chargeable with an intelligence which he might justly suspect: Nay, he was in a manner resolved to have him secured with Caesario as soon as Aquilius had given him the relation thereof; but having a great esteem for him, and conceiving that he had done him injury enough in taking away his Mistress, and depriving him of that great comfort which he was in hopes of, and whereof he had rendered himself worthy by the greatness of his actions, he had out of that very consideration dissembled his resentment, and be thought him to do him greater mischief without putting him to that inconvenience: But things so standing as that he saw all his designs crossed, he thought it no prudence to neglect so fair a pretence, unless he should at the same time neglect the safety of his Friend. For Elisa, though he could charge her with the same intelligence with Caesario, as having been present as well as Artaban at the secret conference wherein he had been discovered, yet did he not think it sufficient pretence to secure her: but that which he had in the pretention of the King of Media he thought specious enough, as being of opinion, that in permitting that Prince to demand her as his Wife, and opposing her marriage with Artaban, and her departure from Alexandria, he might detain her without doing any manifest injustice. Not indeed out of any design he had to bestow her on Tigranes; but out of a hope that being not in a capacity to marry Artaban, by reason of an obstacle apparently just, she would prefer Agrippa, whose virtue she esteemed, before Tigranes, whom she hated and stood in fear of. In fine, either out of this hope, or a desire to gain time, and to find out the most favourable courses to follow, that very evening he sent secret notice to Tigranes, to encourage him to renew the prosecution of his affections, and openly to demand justice at his hands; and issued out an Order for the securing of Artaban, and the putting of a Guard upon him in his own Lodgings▪ till such time as he should resolve to dispose of him into some other Prison. He went to Livia, and communicated to her his design, and the answer which Sempronius had brought him of that of Cleopatra; they consulted a good while together, whether it were convenient she should be admitted to see Coriolanus, as finding reasons strong enough to authorise, & to disallow the interview; & at last they parted without having resolved on any thing absolutely.  
This night passing away very differently among so many persons of several fortunes, the next morning, before Artaban was dressed, comes into his Chamber Quintilius Varus, attended by a Guard; who coming up to him, told him, he had Order from the Emperor to wait upon him, and to make his Lodging his Prison. Artaban was a person not ordinarily daunted at the most unexpected events; yet this surprised him a little, as happening to him as it were in the Meridian of his greatest hopes, since he could not imagine himself secured, but out of some design to destroy the felicity which he promised himself in the enjoyment of Elisa. However, he soon mastered the astonishment which that accident might put him into; and looking on Varus with a countenance much more confident than his own, I know not (said he to him) upon what account Caesar causeth me to be secured, and I should take it as a favour from you, if you would let me know it. You know (replies Varus) that our Masters are not wont to discover themselves to us upon such Commissions: but for aught I can judge of it, the distrust which the Emperor hath of you, proceeds from the secret conference you had with Prince Caesario. Artaban shaking his head at that discourse, It is not Caesario (replied he) that makes me guilty in the apprehension of Augustus; that Prince is so virtuous, that all the intelligence I might have had with him could never prejudice Augustus: No, he hath other reasons which he hath not discovered to you, and which haply he will not discover, if he desire the reputation of a just Prince. It is no hard matter for him to secure a single person; but I have sometime been in such a condition as he would not have found it an easy task, though he had employed all the Forces of his Empire to do it; and if the Gods are so pleased, they may restore me to such again. Quintilius, who admired him, as indeed all those did that saw him, and could not but fear that resentment which he observed in his countenance, would have made some wretched excuse to him for the Commission he had taken; but Artaban interrupting him with scorn, I wonder not (said he to him) that you have by the command of your Master secured Artaban, when out of your own inclination you have exposed Arminius to Gladiators and Savage Beasts. It is in him that you have raised yourself a dreadful enemy; but, for my part, if I have any resentment of the injury I receive, you may be sure it shall not fall upon Varus. With these words, which Varus, as it were by a fatal prediction, grew pale at, he went into his Closet, where they left him at liberty to walk, there being before the Window a strong iron gate.  
The noise of this accident was soon spread all over Alexandria; and whereas the Princess of Parthia and the Queen her Mother were the most concerned in it, they were accordingly the first that had notice of it. The news put Elisa into no small disturbance, though she had ever feared that her designs would be crossed by Augustus, and that he would never consent to the felicity of Artaban while he might hope any thing for Agrippa. Nor was the Queen her Mother less troubled, insomuch that the news made her hasten the design she had to see Augustus that morning, as imagining, that when she should tell him that Artaban was a Prince of the blood of the Arsacides, and give him an account of the death of Phraates, and the state of the Parthian Monarchy, she should oblige him to a greater respect for a Prince raised to so eminent a Dignity, than he might have for a private person. Upon this consideration, after the had sent a person before to demand audience, she went to him, attended by the Princess her Daughter, and some of her Women. The Emperor received her in his Closet, with all apparent discoveries of respect and civility; but they were hardly set down ere came in the King of Media, whom they had not thought so well recovered as to be able to walk so far. That sight was very ominous to the Princess and the Queen her Mother; nay, Elisa was so much the more surprised, in that Augustus had seemed to be incensed against Tigranes, insomuch that she thought he durst not adventure into his presence. However, the Queen resolved to disengage herself out of her astonishment, and resolved to speak to the Emperor before Tigranes, since she was reduced to that necessity; and to that end assuming all her courage, My Lord, (said she to him) that which is this day happened by your Order, hath given me, in some measure, occasion to change the design of this visit, and the Audience I have desired of you, or at least obligeth me to add another of no less consequence than those which I had before. I came hither, my Lord, to make acknowledgement of the kindness which you have expressed towards a Princess whom a malicious fortune had cast upon your Territories, and the protection which you generously afforded her. I should then have acquainted you, that, by the death of the King my Husband, Elisa, being designed for the Ctown of her Ancestors, was obliged to go hence; and desirous at her departure to demand an Alliance of you, wherein her Subjects might hope a Reign much different from that of her predecessors, that is, such as should bring a long uninterrupted tranquillity; and lastly, I was to tell you, that this same Artaban, who by such extraordinary actions hath defended and maintained the Parthian Crown, having been acknowledged a Prince of the Royal Blood of that Nation, hath been demanded by the Parthians for a Husband to their Princess, and is expected among them to take Possession of a Sceptre, which hath never been but in the hands of those who were of that extraction. This my Lord, was the occasion of my voyage, and I thought I should not have met with any other; but understanding that the said Prince whom the Parthians desired for their King and whom the consent of Elisa and myself have granted, is secured by your Order, and deprived of his liberty, in a place where you had honoured him with so many demonstrations of your esteem, and at a time wherein he was accounted no other than a private person in this place; I am apt to believe, my Lord, that when you caused him to be apprehended and secured, you knew not that he was of the Royal Blood of Parthia, and called to be their Governor; and therefore hope, that knowing it, you will consider Dignity in the same person in whom you had before considered Virtue, and will not injuriously treat in your Territories a person designed for a Monarchy, with which there are few others in the World dispute precedence.  
Thus ran the Queen's discourse; and after the Emperor had with much patience heard it, Madam, (said he to her) I can with sincerity assure you, that my design hath been to receive you into the Dominions that are under my jurisdiction with all the respect due to you, and all the discoveries of affection observed between Allies; and you may also very well believe, that I have been a stranger hitherto to the Birth of Artaban, and that Fortune whereunto you have designed him: but you will give me leave to tell you, that though I had been acquainted therewith, I should not have forborn the securing of his person, considering the just occasion I have to be distrustful of him, since I have, after much another manner secured the Son of Julius Caesar and Cleopatra, who is of a rank no less considerable than a Prince of the Blood of the Arsacides, and who, as well as Artaban, is designed for a powerful Monarchy. It is with that Prince, whom I have discovered lurking in Alexandria, and whose intentions I am justly to be very jealous of, that Artaban hath had a secret intelligence and conferences in the night time, which the Princess your Daughter hath not been ignorant of. That is that which obliges me to secure him, and that the rather, the more I am certified of the greatness of his courage, and think him a person capable and fit to carry on the greatest enterprises. You will be pleased therefore to give me leave to take some time to inform myself, what the intention of either my enemies or those of our Empire may be, and to take those courses which may secure me from the attempts of two men, whereof the one looks upon me as the Usurper of a Dignity which he thinks justly his, and the other by your confession is of the Blood, and designed for the Throne of those very Kings, who, by the loss of so many millions of men, have satisfied all the world of the hatred and detestation which they have for the Roman name. Our security is all I endeavour, and not the revenge of those injuries which we have received from those of that Blood and Nation; those I am willing to forget, and to enter with you, and also with him who shall marry the Princess Elisa, into the Alliance you so much desire, and by the means to assure you that the Imprisonment of Artaban is not likely to prove dangerous to him, as being no more than a precaution, to secure the quiet of a great Empire. You may, if you please, continue among us till the discovery, which I expect, oblige me to set him at liberty; and if your intentions are otherwise, you are free to depart, and shall receive from me all manner of assistance and accommodations to return into your own Dominions.  
To this effect was the Emperor's discourse, much to the astonishment of the Princess and the Queen her Mother; and he had hardly put a period thereunto, when Tigranes, addressing himself to him, with a confidence derived from the intelligence which was between them; My Lord, (said he to him) though Artaban be my professed enemy, yet shall I not say any thing to you as to his imprisonment, or the reasons that have obliged you to secure him; but as to the departure of the Princess Elisa, you will give me leave to oppose it, and to demand justice of you, both against a Mother, and against a people, that design her any other Husband then him whom she hath solemnly received from the King her Father. The desire I have ever had to continue such legal pretensions, and that passion which I have not been able to master, forced me upon an enterprise contrary to the respect which I owe you; and since you have had the goodness to pardon it, you will also have the justice to restore me my Wife, or at least give me leave to dispute her with all those who would take her away from me.  
The Queen was going to make Tigranes some answer; when the Princess, by a submissive gesture having demanded permission to answer him herself, and putting on a resolution which was more than natural in her, Tigranes, (said she to him) I know not why you continue your cruel persecutions against a Princess that hath deserved neither your hatred nor your affection; you know the Emperor hath already acknowledged the injustice of your pretensions, and I have his own word and promise, whereby he hath assured me of his protection against you. You have (saith the Emperor, interrupting her) slighted that protection, and ought not to allege it in such an occasion, wherein I cannot refuse those justice who demand it of me. The Queen enduring this discourse with much impatience, as being injurious to her Dignity, If Tigranes be your Vassal, (said she to the Emperor) you may do him justice; but you know that the Kings of Parthia never demanded any such thing of the Romans, and that their power is not derived from any but that of the Gods: so that though we are now exposed to yours in our present fortune, yet you will give me leave to tell you, that you have no right to dispose of my Daughter, nor yet to detain her, since she is neither by birth your subject, nor by War your prisoner. I know (replies the Emperor, not a little vexed at that discourse) that she is neither my subject nor my prisoner; and it is for that reason, that if she be Wife to Tigranes, I cannot take her away from him to put her into your power, nor deny him the liberty to demand his Wife, no more than I can you of demanding your Daughter. Elisa is my Daughter, (replies the Queen of Parthia) but she is not Wife to Tigranes; and if she were, there were no need of your Authority to oblige her to follow a Husband, whom her duty would force her to run fortunes with all the world over. You are not ignorant, that formalities observed towards Ambassadors, without any consent of my Daughter, cannot make any absolute Marriage; that the design which her Father had to effect it, hath not been effected, and that Elisa being freed by his death, may well refuse that man for her Husband whom she would not accept during his life. These Reasons (replies the Emperor) are such as you might allege before those whom the Gods or your own choice shall establish Judges of your differences; but in the mean time, since it belongs not to me to do justice in this case, you will not take amiss that I forbore the doing of injury and violence to a King, who, notwithstanding what I had done against him in the behalf of the Princess Elisa, hath nevertheless a confidence of my impartiality.  
The Queen and Princess were satisfied by this discourse, that the Emperor was resolved to detain them, though they could not but imagine, that it was the concernment of Agrippa, and not that of Tigranes, that so much prevailed with him; and it was with much ado that they expressed a moderation when so great an injustice was done them, and forbore to tell him that it was upon the account of Agrippa that he did it, and not upon that of the King of Media. But considering withal, that it were not safe for them to incense a person who could do any thing, and that their intention was not to depart from Alexandria, and leave Artaban a prisoner there, they endeavoured to smother their resentment; yet could not do it so, but that in some measure it appeared in their countenances, and in some measure in the discourse of the Queen. I see then, (said she to the Emperor, rising off the chair where she was sat,) that we are not to expect much favour from you, and that we, as well as Artaban, are prisoners in Alexandria: but the Gods, who sees the entreatment we receive, and the right you have to do it, will be Judges between us, and will haply deliver us out of a misfortune into which we are fallen, merely out of the confidence which we have had in the Laws of Nations, and the respect due to Royal Dignity.  
With these words the went out of the Closet, together with the Princess, after she had demanded leave of the Emperor to visit Artaban, which he durst not refuse her, as unwilling to make too manifest a discovery of injustice and animosity, They would needs go to him before they returned to their Lodgings, and in their way met the King of Scythia, the the King of Armenia, and the Prince of Cilicia, who had been at their Lodgings to give them a visit, and were desirous to see them, to assure them of the concernment which they took in what had happened to them. As they were coming towards them, Elisa acquainted the Queen her Mother who they were, who with much joy entertained Princes of so great fame, especially Alcamenes, whose reputation was so full of miracles. The worthiness of their persons satisfied her that what she had heard of them was but their due, and thereupon she received them according to their worth and rank in the world.  
These great Princes being such as from whom it could not be expected they should have a servile compliance for any man, such as out of any base consideration or fear to displease Caesar should hinder them from following their own generous inclinations, especially the the King of Scythia, who knew no superior in the world. They satisfied the Queen and the Princess her Daughter, how much they concerned themselves in all had happened to them, as well to the death of Phraates, and the acknowledgement of Artaban to be a Prince of the Bloud-Royal of Parthia, as to the imprisonment of Artaban, and what might be the consequence thereof, as real Friends, and Princes, whom nothing should oblige to conceal their own sentiments. According to the present exigence of their Fortunes, they proffered them all the assistance they could, and, as to the sequel thereof, all that they might hope for from Allies.  
The Queen having given them thanks with all the civility due to such illustrious persons and Princes, who expressed their inclinations towards them in so ticklish a conjuncture, Alcamenes entreated the Queen and Princess to pardon him, if he expressed more joy at the acknowledgement of Artaban to be of such birth as he had ever wished him, then trouble at his imprisonment, wherein he saw not any thing to fear, doubted not but that he should soon see him King of Parthia, and that he would confirm with him the Alliance they had already designed together. Ariobarzanes and Philadelph expressed themselves much to the same purpose; and having understood that they went to visit him, they were desirous all three to accompany them: but being come to the door, Varus, how much soever he might respect their Dignity, told them that he durst not admit them in without order from the Emperor, who had only commanded that the Queen and Princess might be allowed to visit him. The three Princes went away from the door with loud discoveries of their resentment at the refusal, and expressed their discontent in words, which sufficiently signified that they were not slaves to the Fortune of Augustus.  
But though these great Princes were denied entrance, another person, being alone, and not richly clothed, made a shift to get in, either as belonging to Artaban or the Princess, and was not so much observed as to oblige Varus to hinder him from coming in. Artaban comes out of the Closet, where they had left him alone, to receive the Queen and Princess in the Chamber; and being come to them, fell on one knee before the Queen and with much submission acknowledged the honour she did him. The Queen raising him up, embraced him, and discovered to him, that she, as well as the Princess, had her countenance bathed in tears. That of Artaban seemed the same it had ever been, insomuch that he was not any way moved, but by the grief which he observed in their countenances. The Chamber being full of Soldiers, and Artaban having told them that he had the freedom of the Closet, they would needs go into it, to avoid the presence of those unwelcome witnesses, leaving two or three of their Women in the Chamber, to hinder any from coming to the Closet door to overhear their discourse. But the person who was gotten in with the Queen followed her into the Closet, and kept behind the Women that went in with her. The Queen and Princess having their thoughts taken up otherwise, took no notice of him, nor did Artaban observe him, as taking him for one of the Queen's retinue.  
When she was sat down, and the Princess by her, Artaban with much acknowledgement and submission renewed his thanks for the favour they did him; and after he had made the greatest expressions he could of his resentment thereof, he entreated them not to fear any thing as to his imprisonment, which in all likelihood would not prove dangerous to him, telling them it was only an effect of Augustus his Friendship towards Agrippa, and the desire he had to disturb his Fortune to divert it to his Favourite; that those things were acted no question without the knowledge of Agrippa, whose virtue was such as he would not permit them if he were acquainted therewith; that it could not come into his thoughts that Augustus should resolve his ruin, since that thereby he in all likelihood quitted all hopes of Elisa's being married to Agrippa; and as for the pretence which he had taken from his intelligence with Caesario, it was of no great concernment, since he could only be charged with, being present at a discourse where the Princess Elisa and the Princess Cleopatra had been also, and whereof the particulars, since they were come to the knowledge of Augustus, were enough to vindicate him.  
To this Artaban added many other reasons, to clear the minds of the Queen and Princess of the obliging sadness which he observed in them; and when he had given over speaking, the Queen, whom all his discourses could not satisfy, no more than the Princess her Daughter. acquainted him with the visit which they had made to the Emperor, how they had there met with Tigranes, and all the conversation which had there passed between them, as well with Augustus as the King of Media. Artaban out of respect harkened to their discourse with much patience, though he found it no small difficulty to suffer, without resentment, both the injustice of Caesar, and the proceedings of Tigranes: and seeing the Queen expected what he would say upon that occasion, Madam, (said he to her,) if you and the Princess continue towards me that goodness whereof I receive such glorious expressions, I shall little fear the competition of Tigranes, as being confident, that Augustus hath no thoughts of favouring him, and only brings him upon the Stage, merely to retard your departure, and making his advantage of time, endeavour with some appearance of justice the satisfaction of Agrippa. All this business is full of Artifice, and unworthy a great Soul; and were I but once more in the head of those very Parthians whom I have commanded in your service, I should not only make the King of Media quit all his pretensions, but haply find trouble enough for him that sets him on work and fond believes that all the earth should submit to his power. I am apt to believe, (added the Queen) that the power of the Parthians should not be despicable in the apprehension of the Romans, and that they have felt it such, though things were not carried on by the conduct of an Artaban; it is the assurance which Augustus hath of your valour that puts me into the greater fear for you, it being not unlikely he should rather wish that the Parthians had such a King as Tigranes then as Artaban: But the Artifice he is forced to make use of to detain us in Alexandria, is more than needed; since that you bring designed a Husband for my Daughter and content (upon our entreaty) to pass for a Prince of the Royal Blood of Parthia, he could not imagine we should depart hence without having you along with us.  
Artaban was going to make some reply to this obliging discourse with all the acknowledgement he could express upon the like occasion, when, casting his eye towards the Closet door, he observes the person who was come in with the Queen, and whom he thought of her retinue, as the Queen had thought him one of his servants. The first Idea he took of him obliged him to take a more particular notice then before; and he had not looked long upon his countenance, but, notwithstanding the change which several years and accidents had brought upon it, he immediately knew him by the memory he had dearly preserved of him. He rose of a sudden, & forgetting at that instant the place where he was, and the persons that were about him, Oh Father, (said he,) oh Briton, is it possible I see you again? And thereupon going up to him with his arms spread, he would have embraced him with a filial tenderness, had he not just then remembered himself that he was before the Queen, & that the respect he owed her permitted not those endearments. Upon that recollection of himself, he only took him be the hand with all the marks of an earnest affection; and turning towards the Queen, Pardon me, Madam, (said he to her,) pardon me, I beseech you, an offence which so unexpected an accident hath caused me to commit; (speaking somewhat lower, out of a fear of being heard by those in the next room,) since that, with all the favours you have done me, you restore me my Father, give me leave to present him to you, not for a Prince, such as he who would have acknowledged me for his Son; but for a person of Noble Blood, and one who makes virtue overbalance all advantages. You would have me of the Blood of Arsaces, and I was unwilling to discover then from whom I came, or disclaim a Father worthy for his great courage of a better Fortune▪ The condition which you see him in, though it speaks no great eminency, I am not at all ashamed of; and whatever he may appear in your sight, if I have any thing of virtue, if any thing great in my soul, it is from his blood and from his inspiration that I derive it. To be short, Madam, you now see Briton, the true Father of Britomarus, and not Artanez, the imaginary Father of Artaban. If the Son hath deserved any thing from you, you will have a kindness for the Father; and if, as Son of such a Father, you think me unworthy of the favour you would have done me, consider withal that I have not pressed it, and that it is yet in your power to deprive me of all hopes of it.  
While Artaban spoke to this purpose, Briton, whom a respect to the Queen's presence had also kept from the open discovery of himself; wrung him by the hand, with an earnestness not inferior to his, and though he kept silence, made his affections articulate by those tears of joy and tenderness which fell from his eyes. The Queen, who was much astonished, and it may be not a little troubled at that accident, discovered her amazement in her countenance; and the Princess, though she continued constant in the design she had upon Artaban, yet was she not able to oppose a certain grief at the sight of a Father so unsuitable to the greatness and fortune of her Artaban. They both discovered their confusion by their silence; and Artaban himself, notwithstanding the transcendency of his soul, felt some trouble rising in his mind from that which he thought he observed in the countenance of his Princess. Briton overcoming that which till then had hindered him from speaking, looking on Artaban with eyes inflamed with some extraordinary liveliness, Oh Britomarus, (said he to him) Oh Artaban, Oh man great as my desire, and much greater than my hopes, you are now such as I have made it my suit to the merciful Gods to make you, and now also am I at liberty to do you the justice I owe you, and to restore you what with reason I have taken away from you, and which you yourself will out of your own generosity take away. Notwithstanding your Greatness, notwithstanding your arrival to the highest Dignity in the World, you acknowledge Briton to be your Father: it is then but just, that Briton should find you a Father worthy of you, and divest himself of an honour which is not due to him, to render you that which he cannot without injustice any longer detain from you, No Madam, (continued he turning to the Queen,) Artaban comes not of the Blood of Arsaces, but is of a Blood which may be allied to that of Arsaces, and to that of the Gods, without any injury to them, as being born of a Father who was the glory of the Universe, whom all the Earth acknowledged its Conqueror, and to whose memory all the world owes a respect and veneration. If you desire Sceptres and Crowns of him, he cannot give you any but by his Sword; it is all the Fortune of his Father and his own hath left him, though his Father hath disposed of Crowns, and seen a thousand Kings at his feet: but if to make him worthy the greatness to which you design him, it suffice that he is born of a Father, and come from a Blood that is illustrious, the World is hardly able to afford a more glorious extraction, or more consonant to the greatness of his Soul, and that of his Fortune.  
To this effect was Britons discourse when Artaban, looking on him with a countenance which discovered the small credit he gave to what he said, Give over, Father, (said he to him,) give over flattering my ambition by an imaginary birth, and a glory, which as it is not my due, so I cannot receive. I should heartily wish, to be the more worthy to serve my Princess that I were born of no other Father than yourself, but that you were such a one as he whom you would give me: but since it hath been the pleasure of the Gods it should be so, it satisfieth me that I am born of a Father in whom Virtue is more remarkable than all other advantages; and though I could make all the World believe what you would now persuade me to, yet should it be far from my thoughts to be guilty of such unworthiness towards the Queen and Princess. Imagine not (replies Briton) that I would celebrate you by a discourse contrary to truth, and remember yourself you have ever known me much an enemy to falsehood and artifice; besides, it were but too glorious for me to be Father of such a Son to disclaim you, and there were but few Fathers in World who willingly would divest themselves of such an advantage, if they might with justice preserve it: but I should commit too great an offence against the Gods, I should injure a precious memory which I have a more than ordinary veneration for; nay, I should injure yourself, whom I value above all things, if, attributing to myself a glory which is not due to me, I deprive you of that which belongs to you. You may remember, that, while yet a child, though I was content you were believed my Son, yet was my demeanour towards you with more respect and consideration than Fathers usually express towards their own children; and you may call many particulars to mind, which will engage your belief of the discourse I shall make to you, in the presence of the Queen and Princess, if they will give me leave, and whereof I shall evince the truth by those discoveries that cannot be denied. Whereupon Briton held his peace; and seeing the Queen, the Princess, and Artaban harkened to him with much astonishment and confident silence, as it were to engage him to speak, he comes up nearer to the Queen and Princess, and placed himself so in the Closet as to be as much as he could distant from the door, that he might not be heard by those who were in the other Chamber; and seeing that they gave him a favourable audience, he thus reassumed the discourse.  

The History of BRITON and BRITO MARUS.  
MY discourse shall be short, because the accidents of most importance whereof it consists are known to all the world, and that there are only some particulars, requiring no long relation, which are not come to your knowledge. You may have understood, Madam from Artaban himself, since I doubt not but he hath acknowledged what he thought himself to be, that I was born among the Gauls, and that after my Country was desolated by the arms of Julius Caesar, the resentment I had against the Conqueror of my Country made me engage myself in the Army of Pompey the great, his enemy. I endeavoured upon all occasions to do him the greatest services I could, and was so happy by the assistance of my fortune, and my diligence therein, as not only to be known as other persons of my rank who fought for him, but also oblige him to afford me some particular demonstrations of affection, to receive me into his house among those whom he most respected, and not long after to bestow on me a Wife of considerable quality, one that had been brought up with the virtuous Cornelia his own Wife. In fine, my fortune became such, and the favours I received from so good a Master were so great, that in a short time, though a stranger, there were few Romans about him in whom he had a greater confidence, or whom he put upon more honourable employments. I shall not insist on those actions of his life which are known to you since they are also known to all the World; nor trouble you with the defeats of Carbo, Perpenna, Domitius, Tigranes, Mithridates, so many Kings, and so many different Nations. upon the Account of so many battles, and so many transcendent actions, whereby he hath with so much justice, acquired the name of GREAT, and which gave him a Triumph over three parts of the Universe, with a glory which never any other attained unto; but hasten to his deplorable end, and only tell you, that in the unfortunate battle of Pharsalia, in which with the Fortune of the great Pompey the Roman Liberty was defeated, after I had kept close to his person during the fight, I was one of that small number of his that accompanied him in his flight; when after we had crossed the Valley of Tempe, he took the Sea in a fisherboat, which carried him to a ship commanded by Petitius, which he met by chance, & wherein he passed to the Isle of Lesbos, there to take in the virtuous Cornelia his Wife, and young Sextus, one of his Sons by the former, whom he had left at Mitelene. I was the person whom he sent to Cornelia, to give her an account of his misfortune, and to prepare her to come with all expedition into the ship, to avoid the pursuit of his enemy; and I was the person who held her a long time swooning in my arms at the sad news which I was forced to bring her; I attended her to the Vessel, I was present at their sad interview, and whatever else happened during the rest of that unfortunate, voyage.  
You know, Madam, by the report which hath been spread all the world over of it, that after consultation about the place where that great man should take his refuge, he resolved to retire to Egypt, which was not far, hoping to be received by King Ptolomey, whose Father he had cast extraordinary obligations upon; and that after this resolution taken, he parted from Cypras in a Galley of Seleucia, with Cornelia and Sextus, and a small number of servants, and made towards the City Pelusium, where Ptolomey was at that time. You know how he sent him notice of his coming, when you have understood, Madam, with all the world, who hath deplored his fortune, how the greatest of men, having been received in a small Bark of Achilles and Septimius, with only Philip his libertine, and being brought towards the shore by those Barbarians, was, in the sight of Heaven, and to the eternal shame of that Nation, run through in several places with a Sword, in the presence of the unfortunate Cornelia; who, with Sextus her step son, and all the rest of those that came along with him, were, by the will of Pompey, left in the Galley, in expectation to receive his Orders when he had seen Ptolomey. I do not conceive it any way necessary to represent unto you our astonishment, nor to insist on the affliction of the unfortunate Cornelia. Having all been Witnesses of that deplorable spectacle, and, through the horror we conceived thereat, being in a manner as dead as he who had discharged himself of his soul in our sight, neither I, nor those with me, whose trouble at that loss was equal to mine, were in a condition to relieve Cornelia, or take care of Prince Sextus; and it was well that we had in our Galley, and in the other which had followed us, other persons that were less concerned, or at least less disturbed by that terrible accident, who, minding our safety, weighed anchor immediately, taking all the advantage they could of a favourable wind to get into the main Sea, and to make out of that satal channel with the greatest speed they could possibly. Neither Cornelia nor young Sextus did contribute any thing to this care of their welfare; and while the young Prince was impatient between some of his servants, who found work enough to hinder him from being his own death, the desolate Princess was laid down as dead, having her head in Herennia my Wife's lap, whom she loved beyond all that had any relation to her, and who had kept her company in all that voyage. As soon as I had recovered myself, not out of my grief, for my soul feels it to this very day, but the disturbance which so strange an accident had raised in me, I turned my thoughts to what was remaining of my Master, and endeavoured to do him further service, either in the person of his Son, or that of his Wife; and seeing people enough about Pompey, and my Wife with some others busy about Cornelia, who had not recovered her sentiments, and who in a manner discovered no sign of life, I came near her, and contributed my endeavours to those of the rest to bring her to herself. It was long ere we could promise ourselves that comfort; and when she had opened her eyes, & she saw us busy about her in order to her relief, turning her fatal looks upon us, she opened them to a rivulet of tears, which it hath not been in the power of many years to dry up. Though she were a person naturally of an admirable constancy, and had a courage much beyond her Sex, yet was it beyond both her courage and her constancy to oppose the violent assaults of a grief raised by so insupportable a loss. Nor was there any person who either durst or would oppose so just lamentations, but were inclined rather to accompany them than condemn them.  
The saddest expressions that can proceed from the greatest misfortune come not any thing near the complaints of the afflicted Cornelia; and it were impossible for me to make you apprehend it, if you do not yourself imagine it out of a consideration of the loss she received; for indeed, never had woman such a loss, never had woman lost so great a Husband, nor after so cruel a manner: neither did she charge any thing but fortune with the fall of her illustrious comfort; and as before her marriage with the great Pompey she had been the young Widow of Crassus, who with his Father had been killed among the Parthians, she said that her fortune had been fatal to her Husbands, that she had been fatal to the House of Crassus, and to that of Pompey, and that it was merely through the cruelty of her Destiny that the earth had lost two extraordinary men. But being withal a person of admirable virtue and exemplary piety towards the Gods, she offered not to repine at their decrees; and amidst the discoveries of the most sensible grief that ever soul was moved to, she added thousands of a miraculous moderation. She never enquired what place they carried her to, and the Vessel was come to Cyprus before she had diverted her thoughts for so much as one minute from the fatal object which wholly took them up: nay, she would have refused what is necessary for the preservation of life, as thinking nothing more detestable than the continuance of it, had she not thought herself obliged to some care of it, out of the affection which she had for Pompey, and to express her endeavours to preserve the only fruit of their love and marriage, which she had carried for some months in her womb. For you are to know, Madam, that she was some four or five months gone with child; and though there were no great appearance of it, and that she had discovered it to very few, I was one of that small number that knew it, and had been told it by Herennia, to whom she communicated all her secrets. She than endeavoured to keep it more secret than before, and made many of those who had heard of it believe, that she was mistaken in the opinion she had of her being with child: but in the mean time the inconvenience it occasioned her, and which troubled her the more by reason of her grief, and the foul weather she had been in at Sea, on which she had made a long voyage for a person in her condition, cast her down at Amathus, a City of Cyprus, whither we were retired, into a sickness which she conceived would prove long, and which she would have wished more dangerous, if out of the love she had for what was left of Pompey, she had not been so far desirous of life, as to bring it into the World.  
Mean time having a great respect to the memory of the great Pompey in whatever he had left behind him, though Prince Sextus was not by her, yet she minded his preservation no less than if he had; and fearing the pursuit of the Conqueror, who might conceive such a jealousy of the Children of Pompey as might oblige him to take away their lives, she would have him sent away with all diligence from Cyprus, to seek his refuge either in the Navy, which still continued loyal, or with her Father Scipio, Cato, and King Juba, who was of their party, or with Cenius Pompeius his elder Brother, who was in Spain. Sextus would not haply have been persuaded to leave her, as having a greater respect for her virtue, than an alliance which ordinarily raiseth not very solid Friendships between stepmothers and stepchilds, had he not imagined that there was no danger for her, and that the triumpant Caesar would not extend his victory so far as to the Wife of the great Pompey. Sextus left Cyprus, with the greatest part of those that remained both of the friends and servants of his Father, and, upon the desires of Cornelia, I was one of the small number who stayed with her, and continued to serve her with the affections I had for her great and illustrious Husband. She kept her bed all the time she stayed at Amathus, where all the world did her honour suitably to her dignity and virtue, and where she understood, somewhat to her comfort, that Caesar, instead of countenancing the murderers of Pompey, had destroyed them all; that Ptolomey himself had lost his life, and that there was not any one left of those infamous counsellors who had engaged him in that detestable action. She kept her bed though she was sufficiently well in health, the better to conceal her great belly; but at last, perceiving it impossible for her to keep it always secret in a City where she was visited by so many persons, upon pretence that the Country air might do her much good, she would needs be carried in a Litter to a certain great House which stood a days journey from Amathus, and and which one of the principal inhabitants of Amathus accommodated her with for that time. Her resolution was to Lie-In there, as being unwillng to venture upon the Sea in the condion she was in, and conceiving there was no place more fit to conceal her delivery. Her reckoning came upon her sooner than she expected; for the seventh month after conception was hardly expired, when she feels coming upon her the pains and throws of Childbearing; and not long after, without any other assistance then what she received from her woman, she was safely delivered of the same Britomarus whom you now see before you. It is true, Artaban, (continueth Briton, observing his astonishment, as also that of the Queen and Princess, in their countenances, and by their silence,) It is true Artaban, or rather Pompey; you it was that Cornelia brought into the world, and you it was whom we received into our Arms, for want of persons more experienced in that employment; you are the true Son, and since the Gods have so thought fit, the only Son that remains of a Father, who, in the thirtieth year of his age, had triumphed in Rome, over Europe, Asia, and Africa; of a Father who master to Kings, and the terror of all the Powers in the Universe; and of a Father, who certainly had died the most great and glorious of all men that ever were, had he died before the battle of Pharsalia. I could not among all mankind have furnished you with a more illustrious Father, nor better recompense the modesty you have had, to content yourself with a Father so little worthy of so great a Son. Thus Madam, (continued he, addressing himself to the Queen, have I given you an account of Artaban's birth, it is that which is most important in my discourse; the rest I shall pass over with as much brevity as I can possibly.  
I shall not trouble you with an account of all the caresses which that passionate Mother entertained her Son with, and those expressions of love and tenderness which upon the sight of the Son, the memory of his Father put into her mouth; and shall only tell you, that having by my means got Nurses for the Child, we gave out that he was my Wife's Son, whom Cornelia obliged to keep her bed to give the report the more credit. At last, when she had recovered health and strength, and found herself in a condition to endure the Sea, with her Son, though it much troubled her to be forced to that extremity, she prepared herself for her departure, with a design to take refuge among those who were yet remaining of the great Pompey's party, among whom Scipio her Father, King Juba, and Cato, had a considerable strength left; but about this time news came to her of their fatal overthrow, and how that those three great men, in whom consisted all the remainder of her hopes, had been defeated by Julius Caesar; that Scipio her Father had killed himself with his own hands, and King Juba would needs force his death from those of Petreius, and that Cato was retired to Utica, not indeed with any hope to maintain it against the Conqueror, but to die gloriously in it.  
This cruel news extremely heightened her afflictions, and, putting her to the saddest sufferings that a single person was capaple of, opened in her a new source of tears, which many days could not dry up. At last, being forced to take some resolution, she took it suitably to her fortune, and bethought herself to retire to a solitary house which she had not far from Alba, and to spend the rest of her days in lamentations and solitude; but considering withal that Caesar's design being openly to make himself the peaceable Master of the Empire, there could be no security for the Children of Pompey, and that it was already reported he was already upon his march towards Spain, in pursuit of Cneius and Sextus the two Sons of Pompey, who, notwithstanding the tenderness of their age, were retired thither, and raising Forces there, she thought it not safe to have her Son about her in any place where he might be discovered, and was afraid to expose him to the sea while yet but young. The disturbance she conceived hereat, made her suspend for some days; but at last, having resolved what to do, and calling me and my Wife to her, in whom she had a more than ordinary confidence, Had I not an experience (said she to us) of your virtue and fidelity, during the time you both lived with Pompey and myself, I should not trust you with what is most dear to me, after the death of my illustrious Husband, nor should I be easily induced, after the demonstrations I have received of your affection, to part with either of you, upon a less occasion than that of preserving my Son. In fine, Briton, in fine, Herennia, it is to you both that I commend the young Pompey, and it is by your care that I hope his life and liberty will be preserved; find out some place in the Island where you may for some time retire, where, among such persons as shall see him, he may pass for your Son; and where I would gladly stay myself while I lived, did I not think my abode here might bring him into some danger, and at last discover him to his Enemies. If you do not think yourselves safe in this place, by reason of the abode we have made here already, take some other as soon as the Child shall be in a condition to endure the Sea; and if you understand, during that time, that Fortune is any thing more favourable to his Brothers in Spain, than it was to his Father in Thessaly, you may carry him thither, and recommend him to their protection. In the mean time, I shall expect an account of my Son's education, desiring you to bring him up in all virtuous sentiments, that may raise his soul to a resemblance of the great Pompey: but above all, if you have any respect to the confidence I repose in you, let him be still brought up in a belief that he is your Son, and acquaint him not that he is descended from Pompey, till you receive my permission to do it, or that I am departed this world. For as no doubt he will have a courage suitable to the blood which runs in his veins, that is, that of Pompey and Scipio 's, so will the knowledge of it engage him in enterprises which will infallibly prove his destruction, nay, though he saw his party ruined, yet would it be hard for him to dissemble so glorious an extraction.  
To these words Cornelia added many other; after which she made us solemnly swear, that we would never discover to her Son what birth he was of, till we had her leave to do it, or that he arrived to a fortune great enough not to disclaim it. Whereupon she gave us the best part of what Gold and Jewels she had, and left us such a quantity thereof as would not only relieve our necessities, but make us live in a considerable high condition. She fastened about her Son's neck a golden chain, & a small box in the form of a Medal, which Artaban I think hath never opened, as being ignorant of the secret of it, which is known only to me, and may very much contribute to the confirmation of my discourse. He knows how much I have recommended the careful keeping of it to him; and having entreated him to do it, by all the affection he had for me, I never desired him to forbear the opening of it, because he never thought it might be opened, and that it seemed to be one piece as an ordinary Medal. In find, Madam, what should I say more? Cornelia having said all the affection which she had for her Son put into her thoughts, kissed him a thousand times with affectionate tears, and recommended him to us as a Depositum which was more dear to her than her own life, bid us at last a doleful adieu, and took shipping to pass into Italy, where we retired to her house near Alba, with the Ashes of her Husband, which Caesar sent her some time after.  
After her departure, we took up our habitation as she had directed on the other side of Cyprus; where, though obscurely, we lived handsomely enough, and brought up our dear charge with an affection no less than if he had been our own Son, and suitable to the respect we owed him as that of Pompey. There we spent two years; at the end whereof perceiving that too much notice was taken of our being in Cyprus, and that we might be suspected by such persons as had seen us about Cornelia, we bethought us of another retiring place: and having understood that the two young Princes Cneius and Sextus Pompeius had a very powerful Army in Spain, and were in some hopes, by the favour and assistance of Fortune, to revenge their Father, and restore themselves to their former Dignity, we departed from Cyprus with the Child, and what Gold and Jewels we had left, with a design to pass into Spain. But we had not been many days at sea ere a violent tempest overtook us, which having put us out of our way, and continued several days, with much hazard of our lives, and that of little Pompey, whom we were more in fear of than ourselves, cast us upon the coast of Egypt, but at the great distance from Alexandria, and the fatal channel where I had seen the ruin of my great Master. We were hardly got to shore, but the design we had to pass into Spain came to nothing, by the news we had of the overthrow of Pompey's Children, who had been defeated near the City of Munda, in a bloody Battle, wherein they had found Caesar more work, and had put him into more danger, than he had met with in all the engagements he had ever been in: we understood that the elder, Cneius, had been killed, and that Sextus had escaped; but whether he had retreated, none knew.  
This fatal news, which ruined all my hopes, and put me into an insupportable sorrow, was seconded by an unfortunate accident that happened not long after, the death of my Wife Herennia, whose loss I was so much troubled at, that certainly, wearied out with so great misfortunes, I should gladly have parted with my life, had I not thought myself obliged to continue it, for the education of Pompey's Son, I therefore resolved to make it absolutely my business, as thinking it all I had to do in the world; and finding the air of that part of Egypt, where we than were, excellently well agreeing with the Child, and considering there was no place where, with less probability, a Son of Pompey might be found, I resolved to expect in that place the change of our Fortune, and how the Gods should dispose of Prince Sextus. I accordingly took up my habitation in a considerable Town, where, by what I had received from the liberality of Cornelia, finding I might live after a handsome rate, I would spare nothing, as to the young Prince's education, whom I named Britomarus, the better to persuade the world, by that resemblance of names, that he was my Son. He may well remember, Madam, and haply hath given you an account how I have brought him up, and how that, upon discovery of the miraculous advantages he derived from nature, I endeavoured to improve them by my care and a noble education. My pains therein, Madam, were suitable to my design, finding out, with no small charge, the most excellent men the Country could afford to instruct him in all exercises; insomuch that those who measured me according to the outward appearances of Fortune, much wondered to see the Son of such a Father so brought up. Britomarus himself hath many times been astonished thereat, and knows that I have omitted nothing that might heighten the excellency of his natural abilities. My hopes were somewhat raised by the actions of Sextus Pompeius, who had possessed himself of Sicily, and put to Sea a powerful Navy, wherewith, after the death of Julius Caesar, he continued the War against Octavius and Anthony, his successors, and that with great suspense of Fortune; but at last, having been basely murdered by his Lieutenants, all that remained of the blood of Pompey was in the person of Britomarus. I shall not put him in mind of many particulars which he cannot forget, whence he might well imagine, that he was somewhat greater than Son to Briton. Nor shall I dilate myself any further as to his education: you may have learned it from himself; how that, desirous to train him up to some high and noble things in some Prince's Court, and having a horror for that of Alexandria, where reigned the detestable Progeny of that wicked Ptolomey, who had with so much baseness put his Father to death, I brought him to that of the King of Aethiopia, and made him particularly apply himself to the service of the Princess Candace. You may also have understood from him, the generous difference happened between him and Prince Cleomedon, wherein he discovered himself to be the Son of Pompey, and by his management thereof, which put the whole Court into admiration, gave me such satisfaction, as that I found some pleasure in the inconvenience it was to me some days after, upon that accident, to find out another abode. He may further have acquainted you how we left Meroe, and Aethiopia; how we traveled into several Provinces; and how, passing into Arabia, we were set upon by certain Arabian Robbers, by whom I was taken, and by him given over for absolutely lost. Only I am to tell you, Madam, that whilst I brought him up in Egypt, notwithstanding the distance between it, and that part of Italy where great Pompey's Widow made her residence, I often gave her an account of him by a slave she left with me to that purpose, to whose fidelity she trusted that secret. He made many journeys upon that score, and brought me many Letters from that virtuous Princess, whereof I have very carefully preserved some, which the Robbers and the several Masters into whose hands I fell, were pleased to leave me, though they took from me all things else which they thought better worth the taking.  
I shall not trouble you, Madam, with a relation of what hath happened to me since that doleful separation; besides that it were not just to abuse your attention by a discourse of so little importance, I have not been engaged in any thing that might deserve it; and shall therefore only acquaint you and the Prince I have brought up, who no doubt, out of the excellency of his nature, thinks himself in some measure concerned therein, that after I had been taken by the Arabians, and robbed of all I had left of the presents of Cornelia, except two Letters, which out of the excess of their kindness they were pleased to leave me, I was some days after given in exchange for one of their companions, to certain Cilician Pirates, who kept me two years in their ships, undergoing the same insupportable hardship and inconveniences with the other slaves, yet with much more patience than the loss of my Britomarus. The Pirates sold me afterwards to a Fhenician Merchant, who had many Vessels at sea, and a great number of slaves, who treated me with more humanity, and with whom I have continued since, not meeting with any opportunity to recover my liberty, though I might hope to be redeemed by Cornelia, could I have given her an account of my misfortune. At last, after many voyages, my Master had occasion to come to Alexandria, where he died some days since, and to gratify the good services I had with much patience done him, he at his death gave me my liberty. The kindness he did me in that, hath proved the occasion of a far greater happiness; for walking, as soon as I was free the streets of Alexandria, which I could not look on without horror, out of a reflection on the base Ptolomey, I perceived, among those illustrious persons who accompanied Augustus a Hunting, my own Britomarus, well mounted and sumptuously clad, and in a condition not much different from that of the most eminent persons in the world: Though I had not seen him in many years before, heard nothing of him, and was in doubt whether he were alive, yet did I without any difficulty call him to mind, and by the Idea I had of him in my heart, should have known him, however he had been disguised. I asked his name of those I met, and it happening they were intelligent, and not unacquainted with the Court, they told me, that that person whom I saw among so many Kings and Princes, and seemed not inferior to them, was himself neither King nor Prince, but one whom his virtue and great actions made more considerable than they; and that it was the famous Artaban, who, by somany noble victories had maintained & conquered the Kingdoms of Parthia and Media, and spread his reputation all over the world. Having, during the time of my slavery, made many voyages, and been upon several coasts with the Phenician Merchants, I had heard much talk of Artaban, and his great actions, but never suspected that Artaban was my Britomarus: So that not doubting but it was he, and so much the less for that it was also said he was a person of unknown birth, my joy was such as I could hardly bear. It was my business all that day to inform myself of all could be learned of Artaban at Alexandria; I understood that it was generally believed he might in time be married to the Princess Elisa, Heiress of the great Kingdom of Parthia. The next day, having taken greater notice of him, and gotten so near him, without his perceiving of it, as to hear him speak to those persons whom he was with, I was so well satisfied that it could be no other than Britomarus, that I was absolutely confident of it; yet durst I not discover myself to him in public, out of a fear he might be troubled to see a person so ill accoutred whom he was to look on as his Father: and while I was thinking of some way to do it with convenience, and so as he might not take offence thereat, I understood yesterday, Madam, of your arrival at Alexandria, and heard this morning from the common report, that it was credibly thought your intention was to bestow the Princess your Daughter on Artaban, and to advance him to the supreme Dignity of the Parthian Kings: but I had hardly given entertainment to the joy I should have conceived at that news, when I heard that he was by order from Augustus secured: That account of him hath brought me not a little frighted to find him out; and being near his chamber door when your Majesty came thither, I thrust myself among those of your retinue, as if I had been one of it: I made a shift to follow you even into the closet, and having found by your discourse, that Pompey's son was now in the condition wherein his Mother had given me leave to discover the truth I had concealed from him, I made no difficulty to let him know it, especially at a time when I ought to have done it, to recompense the generosity which you and the Princess your daughter have had, to prefer Virtue in such a birth as he was of, before the dignity of so many Kings as envy his fortune, as the most glorious, the greatest men in the world could aim at.  
Thus dip Briton put a period to his discourse; and thereupon taking advantage of the silence of the Queen, Princess, and Artaban himself, who looked on one the other without speaking any thing, he drew out two Letters he had left of Cornelia's; and presenting them to the Queen, entreated her to read them. The Queen having opened them, found in the first she took these words:  
THe account you give me of my Son's education, and the hopes you conceive of him, fills me with the greatest joy I am capable of, and would rejoice even in the ashes of his Father, if the Gods, receiving him to themselves, had left any sentiment in what is remaining of him among men. Continue, dear Briton, the faithful affection you have for the Son of a Father who dearly loved you, and a Mother who owes you all the enjoyments, nay haply all she has remaining of life. Sosippus will give you an account of me, and tell you more than I dare trust to this paper, as I do to his fidelity.  
The second contained thus much:  
THe greater things you tell me of the Son I have committed to your care, the more you put me into fear for him; and if he one day prove such as you hope he will, it will be hard for him to conceal himself from his enemies, and confine his thoughts to his present fortune. This consideration obliges me to entreat you by all the affections you have for him, and the Oath you have made to me, not to let him know the truth of his birth, till he be arrived to that greatness among men, as that he may, with defiance of his enemies, acknowledge it. I shall see him, when fortune shall so bring things about, as that I may do it without exposing a life, which continues my own in the just occasions I have had not to cherish it; and I shall die satisfied, if I can but once more see in his face the resemblance of his Father, such as you represent it to me.  
While the Queen and Princess were busied in reading these Letters, Briton having asked Artaban whether he still had the box he had given him; Artaban, who had very carefully kept it, taking it out of the place where it was, presented it to him: It was flat like an ordinary Medal, having on the out side characters in the form of Letters, whereof consisted the names of Pompey and Cornelia; of which when Briton had explained the meaning to the Queen and Princess, he opened the box, and the Medal wherein there seemed to be no separation, divided itself into two equal parts, in which there were two Pictures excellently well done. About that of the man was written, CNEIUS POMPEIUS; and about that of the woman, CORNELIA wife of CNEIUS POMPEIUS. While the Queen and Princess were looking on them; Had you ever seen the Great Pompey (said he to them) you would easily be persuaded that Artaban was his Son; never was man more beautiful, or had so majestic a presence, as haply you may have heard from the common report of him: Those who knew him in the age Artaban is of now, would hardly find any difference in their countenances. Elisa and the Queen had already observed in Pompey's picture some part of what Briton said to them; and the only difference there was proceeded from that of their ages. To that Briton added, that the picture of Cornelia might be known by many in Alexandria; and that she herself, if living, as he had heard she was, would not only acknowledge and entertain Artaban as her son, but would come to see him among the Parthians, and confirm the truth of his discourse. But the Queen interrupting him: All these discourses (said she to him) are more than needs to convince us that Artaban is Pompey 's son: I upon the first overture believed it, as well out of the confidence I have in you, and the assurances you give of it, as by those characters of greatness which I find in the person of Artaban consonant thereto. I praise the Gods that he is such by blood as I wished him; nay, such as he might have wished himself: I am apt to believe my daughter's sentiments are suitable to mine, and if you meet with any difficulty to evince the truth you have discovered, it will be in relation to Artaban himself, who will be more hardly won than we are to aperswasion so advantageous to him. I should no doubt be hardly won to it (replies Artaban) if I were not convinced: But, besides the credit I give a persons discourse whom I know to be highly virtuous, besides the evident assurances he hath given of it, and the offer he makes to have me owned and acknowledged by Cornelia, I feel many things within me which absolutely satisfy me that I am son to Pompey: I have ever had for his memory a veneration full of love and tenderness; I could never hear of his advantages, without a certain joy, nor of his misfortunes, without affliction: And though in the life of Julius Caesar, I found much to admire, yet hath it ever been without any particular affection for him. I now perceive whence proceeded that unjust aversion which I sometime had for Prince Caesario, whereof I have thousands of times endeavoured to find out the reason, yet never could, and which I was not able to overmaster till I had a perfect knowledge of his virtues. I also call to mind several discourses of Britons, whereby he might have raised in me some jealousy, had I made any great reflection thereon; as also many actions, in which he discovered, that it was with some violence to himself he exercised the authority he did over me, & that he was much guilty of a respect which fathers express not towards their children. In fine, Madam, all things concur to persuade me that I am Pompey 's son, and I must confess, that (though I have ever preferred Virtue before an illustrious birth) I entertain this discovery with all the satisfaction I am capable of, if I may but thereby make the Princess a present more worthy of her in the person of Pompey, than in that of Britomarus.  
With these words he cast himself on his knees before Elisa; who knowing the Queen would approve what she did, and thinking herself obliged to make him some answer upon that overture; after she had entreated him to rise, I shall not tell you (said she to him) that Pompey deserves me better than Britomarus, as having expressed myself so far as to make it appear, that, without the advantage of birth, Artaban was more considerable in my thoughts than all the Monarches in the world; but must acknowledge, that I take my part in the joy you should conceive of your descent from so great a Father, and that your satisfaction is not greater than mine at the justice of Heaven in giving you such a Father as such a son deserves, and such as should crown both your own wishes and ours.  
To this the Queen added somewhat much to the same effect, satisfying thereby the son of Pompey of the joy she conceived at so glorious an acknowledgement, and the happiness she thought it to have a son of Pompey to her son in law, instead of a Prince of the blood of Arsaces. But after she had expressed herself to that purpose, and fully assured Artaban of the satisfaction she conceived thereat: This discovery of your birth (said she to him) ought to be entertained both by you and us suitably to the glory it brings us, and our concernment therein: But, Artaban, or Pompey, whether shall I call you? there is a necessity it should be kept secret among ourselves; and if you love Elisa, and desire to be hers, you must give us leave to conceal it, and pass, as you do, for a Prince descended from Arsaces. The danger whereto you would expose your life, in relation to Augustus, if it be discovered you are Pompey's son, is not unknown to you, as being not to learn that he persecuted the last of that name, till he lost his life by the treachery of his own people; but besides this reason, which is to be looked on but while we lie at his mercy, I am to tell you, that to be born of Pompey is indeed so glorious, as to be envied by all men, but a thing the Parthians will never brook, as who would rather have the son of Briton for their King, than that of the greatest and most illustrious among the Romans. No certainly, it will be with much difficulty that they will submit to the Government of a Roman, You know what an aversion they have for that Empire, nay for the very name; and you may well imagine, that that consideration might countenance the pretensions of Vononez, and raise those troubles which you would find it no easy work to compose. I am therefore to entreat you, for my daughter's sake and my own, that he who hath hitherto been content to pass for the son of Briton, may go among the Parthians for Artaban the son of Artanez; To be descended from Arsaces, is not so despicable, but that it may be acknowledged by the greatest Princes upon earth, and it is a compliance you are obliged to upon the just reasons I have alleged, and the affection you have for Elisa. This desire of the Queens is so just (added the Princess) that I cannot imagine you will make any difficulty to satisfy it; and my confidence in the affection you have for me is such, as I dare hope greater demonstrations of it.  
Artahan, all submission for the commands of Elisa, immediately smothered all the repugnances he had to conceal the glorious name of Pompey: And though his thoughts were already upon such designs as would make it more known in the world than haply it had been in the triumphs of his Father, nay, to make it a terror even to those who had ruined him; yet finding much reason and likelihood in the Queen's discourse, and reflecting how highly he had been obliged by the Princesses, who had not slighted him for a husband and son in law, while he was yet but son to Briton, he thought he could not, without ingratitude, but comply with their desires; and thereupon assured them, that how glorious soever it were to him to make the world sensible of his being son to Pompey, yet all gave way to the obedience he had for the advice of a Queen and Princess, to whom he both was and would be obliged for all things, and that what condition soever they might out of their goodness raise him to, he should never forget the generosity they had expressed towards a person who had received nothing from Fortune but his sword; nor to the last gasp quit that happy name of Artaban, under which he had the glory to serve the Princess Elisa.  
After such expressions of himself, and that resolution taken, the Queen dismissed him to the caresses of Briton, who was so transported with joy, that he could hardly contain himself: Artaban on the other side satisfying him, that though he ceased to be his son, yet was the affection he had for him no less than if he had been his true father, as finding greater reasons to love him upon the account of his education, and his faithful and generous deportment towards him, then upon the obligation of birth. The Queen and Princess entertained him with great demonstrations of their esteem, and all put him into hopes that his last days should be more happy and more glorious than all the precedent part of his life had been.  
Mean time Sempronius had acquainted Caesar with Cleopatra's resolution concerning the way proposed to her to save Coriolanus' life by a marriage with Tiberius, upon an assurance from Coriolanus' own mouth, that he would accept of his life upon those terms. Augustus, Livia, nay, Tiberius himself conceived little hope from that answer of Cleopatra's, as concluding from the knowledge they had of the great courage of Juba's son, that questionless he would prefer death before the loss of Cleopatra; and so they imagined it was only to have the opportunity to see the Prince, that she had sent Sempronus back with that message. They were a good while in consulting whether they should permit that interview, it being Tiberius' fear it might destroy all that had been done in order to his satisfaction; but at last they thought it should be granted, though but to oblige Cleopatra to make an absolute discovery of her intentions; that it could not be prejudicial, as things stood with her and the Prince, nay, that it was not impossible, but that the fear of present death, and that such as appears with a much different face from that which it hath in combats, might shake Coriolanus' constancy. It was therefore resolved, that Cleopatra should visit Coriolanus in the Castle where he was in restraint, that Sempronius should attend her thither, and that she should not speak to the Prince but in the presence of Sempronius and Levinus. Sempronius was the person employed to bring her this order: She received him in her chamber, where she was with her brothers, Queen Candace, Antonia, and Artemisa. She harkened to Sempronius with much patience and moderation: And when he had delivered his message; I am content Sempronius (said she to him) to go along with you to the Prison where Coriolanus is; I shall speak to him in your presence, as having nothing in my thoughts which I dare not discover, and do any thing he shall desire me, to save a life which I value much beyond my own.  
With those words she immediately prepared for her departure, inflamed with impatience to see her beloved Prince, whom she had so little seen since the discovery of his fidelity had set him right in her thoughts. The Princesses her Brothers would have accompanied her, and Antonia and Artemisa would have gone along; but Sempronius told them, the Emperor had given him order to the contrary. The two Princesses were extremely troubled at it, and the three Princesses loudly expressed their sentiment of the rigorous treatment they received in a City which brought into their memory all the old injuries, and might put them upon a design to shake off the unjust yoke imposed upon them. Candace, who was no less desirous to see Caesario, than Cleopatra was to see Coriolanus, sent to the Emperor to desire his permission to do it, but it would not be granted; upon which cruel refusal, almost out of herself with grief, after she had detested the inflexibility and injustice of Augustus, she, out of the greatness of her courage, sought out the means to oppose his Tyranny, and deliver her Caesario out of the captivity and danger he was in, by other ways than entreaties and tears. The incomparable daughter of Anthony went out of the Palace alone, attended by her women and Sempronius, with some of the Emperor's Guard; and taking leave of her Brothers and the Princesses she left in her chamber, she embraced them, and bid them adieu, as if she had been to go a long and dangerous journey.  
The old Castle of Alexandria where the Princes were secured, was at an extremity of the City, that had on one side the sea, and was fortified towards the City with a deep and broad moat; having been the seat of the ancient Kings of Egypt, before the late Ptolemy's built the sumptuous Palace which Queen Cleopatra had finished; it was commodious enough to serve for other uses than what it was then put to, there being in it some Lodgings not only convenient but magnificent: There were the sons of Juba and Caesar in restraint, both with little hope of deliverance thence, other than that of death; as having learned, either by experience, or the reputation spread abroad of him, that Augustus was no less implacable towards his enemies, and those whom upon consideration of policy he was jealous of, then kind and obliging towards his friends, and those whom no concernment of State put him into any fear of. Upon this reflection, they both had present death in their thoughts; yet how cruel soever it might be to persons in the height of blood and youth, all its terrors troubled not their minds, so much as the remembrance of their Princesses: Notwithstanding the danger they were in, the lively images of Cleopatra and Candace were still present to them; and they much more dreaded the loss of their amiable Princesses, than that of a life they could not value but for their sakes, an interview with them would have been a great alleviation to their spirits, might it have been obtained. And whereas Caesario had heard miracles of Coriolanus, and that Coriolanus could not have seen a Brother of Cleopatra's, such a Brother as Caesario, without a sudden eruption of joy, no doubt but communication would have wrought a great abatement of their misfortune: But the Emperor had ordered they should not come together, nor see one another, as having conceived great jealousies upon the secret conferences of Caesario with Cleopatra; and imagined that Coriolanus was not unacquainted with their designs, & that all together might be engaged in some great and dangerous enterprise. Upon this account he had caused them to be lodged in several places; but having understood one another's conditions by Levinus and the Guard, who were not ordered to conceal it from them, they mutually sent civilities and recommendations to one another, wherein they imagined to themselves some remission of their sufferings. Coriolanus, who was well acquainted with the transactions of the house of Cleopatra, had been much astonished to hear that young Caesario, whom all the world thought dead so many years before, was living, and the same, who under the name of Cleomedon had done so great actions in Ethiopia, & had in his presence fought with the hardy Britomarus, & with admirable courage engaged against the Pirates. He had learned from Britomarus & Tridates' house that he was that Cleomedon, so famous for many victories; & he called to mind, that for some small time during that combat he had seen his face, whereof by reason of its extraordinary beauty he had preserved the idea: But the great actions of Coriolanus being generally known Caesario had had a better account of them; and besides what he had received from common report, had heard from his sister all the particulars of most importance. By this mutual account which these two great Princes had one of another; they were infinitely desirous to see one the other, and thought it an aggravation of their misfortune to be in restraint within the same walls, and denied that freedom. Caesario endured his imprisonment with so much the more impatience, by reason of its happening in that City where he drew his first breath, where he had passed away his first years with so much splendour, & whereof he was the lawful Prince, and not he whom Fortune had put into his place. He could not reflect on these things, nor cast his eye on that part of the City where stood the Palace of his Ancestors by the mother's side, which he could see out of the windows of his chamber, without sighing and bewailing the cruelty of his destiny; but his affliction was augmented when he thought of his Queen, whom he had left in the hands of his enemies, and whose grief he was much more troubled at then his own: He had so much the more reason to bemoan his misfortune, in that it had happened to him when he thought himself in a condition to defy Fortune, and had nothing to oppose him either in Aethiopia, or the inclinations of his fair Queen.  
Coriolanus on the other side, seemed to be less sensible of this last stroke of his misfortune, as having of a long time struggled with the malice of his destiny, and learned not to be too fond of a life attended by so many miseries; yet was it a great ease to his thoughts, that he had been so happy as to vindicate himself before his death, and that Cleopatra could have no other thoughts of him, then as of a Prince that had been ever constant to her: Nor could he but derive some satisfactions from the service he had done upon two or three occasions whereto he seemed brought by some divine conduct, and thought it some happiness to have seen his implacable Rival laid at his feet, and in a posture to satisfy him by his death if he would have accepted of it for all the injuries he had done him; having had his life at his mercy, who had been the greatest persecutor of his own, he could not so much as wish him ill, nor repent he had he had given it him, though it contributed more to his unhappiness then any thing else: Let the Gods now (said he) dispose as they please of the remainder of this unfortunate life; I resign them without any regret, since I have made those advantages of them I desired, and had the happiness in my last days to rescue Cleopatra from her enemies, to satisfy her of my innocence, and to overcome a Rival and an enemy by whose means I had lost all: This done, what remains for me to wish, since Cleopatra cannot be the reward of an unhappy man whom an implacable Fortune hath not left any thing, either of the interest he had in Caesar, or the Crowns he had recovered to present her with, and by what unjust sentiment should I entertain with grief or terror the opproaches of a death I have so much desired and sought for?  
These words fell from him, with a resolution worthy the greatness of his courage: But soon after, the last change of his fortune, & the late deportment of Cleopatra came into his mind; & when he reflected on his being right in her thoughts, & that taking she had given him greater and more persuasive assurances of her affection then ever he had received before he was not able to divert the considerations consequent thereto, or thing on the retrival of a happiness so great, & so much desired, without a regret for the loss of it, & a resentment such as he had never known in his life: Alas (said he with a sigh forced from the bottom of his heart) if it were true that I have still a place in the affections of Cleopatra, and that the Love whence I derived my glorious fortune, is fully reseated in her heart, what had I to fear, what to desire? or rather, what misery could I be sensible of, upon the recovery of so transcendent a felicity? Ah! were it only the loss of that Crown which I should have represented Cleopatra with, I might hope it from that sword which had put it on my head before; for in fine, if I were loved by Cleopatra, nothing should bring so much terror with it as to force me to despair,  
He was thus expostulating with himself, and in a certain suspense, as to the judgement he should make of his condition, when he hears a noise at his chamber door; and having turned his eyes towards it, sees is it opened, and was struck with a light, which by the suddenness and greatness of it dazzled them. Inexpressable was his astonishment when he perceived coming in the Princess Cleopatra, conducted by Sempronius and Levinus, and followed by two of her women; the disturbance he was in being such, as that for a good while he could not stir from the place to follow his heart, which was flying to meet her: He made a shift to recover himself out of the passionate trance which put him to such a loss; and running to the Princess, cast himself at her feet, and fastening on one of her fair hands, kept it to his mouth along time, not able to say one word to her. The Princess extremely moved at his deportment; and all the discoveries she therein found of his affection; and unwilling to smother any longer the love she had for him, notwithstanding the presence of those that accompanied her, but leaving it to make an absolute discovery of itself, cast her arms about the prostrate Prince, and embracing him with an action full of tenderness, filled him with joy, which soon making its passage to his heart, had almost deprived him of all sentiment: At last she forced him to get up; and having caused him to take a seat near that which had been presented to her, she discovered to him that countenance, whose celestial excellencies were the envy of nature itself, bathed in precious tears, and full of the characters of an affectionate grief. While the Prince looked on her with such distractive reflections as afforded him not the freedom of speech, the Princess recovering the weakness she was in upon that occasion: The tears you see (said she to him) proceed partly from the joy it is to me to find you faithful and innocent, after that long and cruel misapprehension, whereby I was induced to a persuasion of your inconstancy; partly from the regret I have, and while I live aught to have, for my cruelty and injustice towards you, when you should have been most dear to me; and partly from the grief it is to me to see you a Prisoner at the mercy of an implacable enemy, who will not grant you your life but upon conditions too too insupportable. Give me leave Coriolanus, to rejoice with you for that fidelity which I do and shall ever value above my life, to express my remorse for the cruel and ungrateful treatment you have received from me; and lasty, condole our common misfortune in the extremity whereto I now see you reduced. My fortune was too happy to find you constant, after you had suffered so much through the treachery that had persuaded me to the contrary; and I had soon ground to hope, out of the experience I had both of your love, and the generosity of your soul, that my sorrow for my offence might force it out of memory, and re-assure me of your affection: But the rigour of my implacable destiny defeats my felicity, by making the danger you are in greater than it is; for you are not to imagine any thing of favour in the permission I have to see you, the occasion of it is such as will afford us but little joy; and the presence of Sempronius and Levinus shall not hinder me from saying, that our enemies are guilty of more inhumanity then to do us any kindness which is not more cruel than the death they may put us to.  
Having so said, the Princess, in whom the sight of Coriolanus aggravated her affliction, was so overburthened therewith, that it was not in her power to proceed in her discourse; so that the Prince having while she was speaking, recovered himself out of the distraction he was in, and taking the advantage of her silence, I beseech you, Madam, said he to her, imagine not that any effect of my ill fortune can make me insensible of the happiness I derive from thinking myself truly happy, if you really have the goodness to restore me to that affection wherein my condition had been so glorious: No, Madam, it is not in the power of my enemies, no, not in that of destiny, to oppose a felicity which I ever both have, and aught to have placed wholly in the glory of your inclinations for me: Nor is it the loss of my Dominions, not that of my liberty, nor the inevitable face of death I am threatened with, that can so much as disturb it, if I have the happiness to be loved by my Divine Princess. Bestow not therefore your tears on my condition, since that will ever be such as you shall be pleased to make it; and that whatever change it may receive from men, or a malicious fortune, is not so considerable as to deserve this discovery of your goodness. I am happy enough, since I am justified in your apprehensions: I have liberty enough, since I have that of seeing all I can desire to see in the world; and I have lived long enough, since my life, which my despair would have put a period to, hath lasted so long as to meet with the opportunity to do you some service, and to satisfy you of my innocence. I complain not of the inconveniences which I have suffered through the misapprehensions you had conceived of me; they were grounded on appearances, such as might have deceived any in the world and during that misfortune you treated me more generously than I in all likelihood deserved. I call to mind, without any regret; the miseries I underwent upon that account; and I should be little troubled at the loss of my Kingdom, were I not thereby reduced to a condition unworthy to offer myself to you; at least to such, as that I can offer you nothing but a despicable Prince, who is so far from having a Crown to present you with, that he hath not a place of refuge in the world, I have already told you, says the Princess, interrupting him, that the loss of your Crown wrought no change on either my affections or inclinations for you; and that despicable as you are the esteem I have for you is no less than if you were in Caesar's place. It is not for us, wretched remnants of a ruined house, to slight Princes whom a malicious fortune hath cast out of the Thrones of their Ancestors; and I should think myself but too happy might I spend my life with you, though lost to all the hopes which you might derive from the assistances of friends, or your own courage. But Coriolanus, the dispute now is not of a Crown, nor the rank you should raise me to in the world▪ it is of your life, which is dearer to me then the Empire of the Universe a life that will not be granted you but upon conditions which haply will make you scorn it: That my dear Coriolanus, is the occasion of this visit, which you receive not from the compassion, but cruelty of your enemies; and before these witnesses, who by Caesar 's order are to be present at our discourse, I am to offer you the choice of either losing your life, or quitting your pretensions to Cleopatra. 'Tis Caesar's resolution that either Coriolanus die, or Cleopatra be married to Tiberius, out of a persuasion to save your life you will consent to the marriage of Tiberius and Cleopatra. Advise me, Coriolanus, what I ought to do in this extremity, to preserve a life which is much dearer to me then my own: and since the disposal of your life and my destiny are in my power, advise me how I ought to dispose thereof. Shall I abandon him whom I so dearly love, to bestow myself on a person that is so odious to me? Or to shun a man I hate, shall I neglect a life that's so dear to me? Shall I be reproached with such an Infidelity, as to bestow myself on one I ever hated? or shall I be so cruel as to see die, nay to occasion the death of, one I have so much loved? Can there be any thing so difficult which I shall not do to save the life of Coriolanus? Or is there any thing in the world can prevail so far with me as to oblige me to marry his Rival? See Coriolanus, what extremities I am reduced to, and be yourself the master of your own destiny: If life be dearer to you then Cleopatra, to save it, I will bestow myself, not only on Tiberius, but on the most cruel Monster in the world: and if you prefer me before your life, I shall satisfy you, That mine is not so dear to me as that I would preserve it, and not acquit myself of what I owe your affection.  
To this effect was Cleopatra's discourse, delivered with much violence to the grief which would hardly suffer her to express herself; and when she had given over speaking, the Prince who had heard her with much patience and serenity, rejoining thereto with an action which betrayed not the least disturbance, Madam, (said he to her) I am not surprised at the news you bring me, it has ever been my persuasion that my enemies would not suffer me both to live and enjoy Cleopatra, and therefore I shall soon six on the resolution I am to take; and since you lay your commands upon me, I tell you, That, were the preservation of your life in dispute, and that you were put to a choice of either death, or a marriage with Tiberius, I would conjure you to marry him, as rather inclined to see you wedded to my Rival, then lose a life to which I ought to Sacrifice all considerations. I should tell you further, That, if I could imagine your fortune might prove happy with Tiberius, I would entreat you to entertain it, and not to spend any further thought on that of a wretch, who would be much more unhappy in your misfortune then his own. But if it be only to save the life of Coriolanus that you are proposed a Marriage with that Tiberius whom you love not, it is my suit, You would not do yourself a violence which would prove more insupportable to me then the death my enemies intent me. I am certainly much mistaken by those who would persuade you, That, to save my life I will consent to the happiness of Tiberius, and know not by what base action I may have raised in them that unworthy opinion of me. No, Madam, I shall not only scorn life upon those conditions, but must tell you, That it is not even in your power (omnipotent as you are) to save it by that way since my own hands will be able to take it away, if my grief should prove so weak as to continue it one moment after that misfortune happened to me. Let me therefore entreat you not to suspend any longer; as to the resolution you are to take, be it such as your own inclinations shall inspire you with, not minding the preservation of a life which you would force from me withmuch more cruelty inbestowing yourself on my Rival, then exposing me to the cruelty of my enemies.  
This was the close of Coriolanus' discourse, which fell from him with a confidence whence the Princess might well judge that his thoughts were much different from the impression which Sempronius would have put into her. Whereupon the fair Cleopatra, entertaining that declaration with a constancy not inferior to his: It hath ever been my belief (said she to him) that your resolution would be such as you now discover it; and I had sufficient experience of your affection and the greatness of your courage to be satisfied, that the fear of death would not make you quit Cleopatra to your Rival. But, Coriolanus, it is not just I should be ever obliged to you, I will therefore to so much Love and so much Virtue, make at last that return which a Princess, desirous to express a Gratitude and Generosity equal to yours, might think expected from her. Receive then (continued she, reaching to him her hand, which he received and affectionately kissed) receive the faith I give you, as well out of mine own inclinations as by the disposal of those persons whom my Birth allow that authority over me, and assure yourself, that as your wife, I will run fortunes with you to the end, and now die with you as my husband. Whereupon turning to Sempronius, You may return to Caesar (said she to him) when you please, and tell him, That I cannot be Tiberius' since I am the King of Mauritania's, that nothing shall henceforth be able to separate us, and that I will die with him as with a husband, whom the Gods, my Friends, and my own inclinations designed me for.  
While she spoke to that effect, and that Sempronius and Levinus expressed their astonishment by their silence, the Prince having once more cast himself at her feet, with his mouth fastened on the fair hand she had given him, discovered by his deportment, that he entertained the present she made him with as great an acknowledgement as if he had been to enjoy it for many years, and expressed his sentiments by so many assurances of his passion, that those who were present were extremely moved thereat. But when his transports permitted him the liberty of speech, raising his eyes up to the fair countenance of the Princess, As for the glory (said he to her) it is to die your husband, I receive it with so much resentment, as if it were not to happen till after a long and pleasant life, since there cannot be any thing so glorious nor so desirable to a Prince who had employed all his life, and all his thoughts in order to that only desire. But to entertain you for my companion in the death I am to suffer, is a thing, which by all the power you have over me, you cannot oblige me to, as such as wherein I shall begin to disobey you at the point that I am most enslaved by you. No Madam, I shall never endure you should follow the destiny of a wretch whom the Gods think not worthy the fortune whereto you raise him; and if upon the name of Husband, which you honour me with, I ma pretend to any influence over you which I could not heretofore, I wholly employ it to conjure you to banish out of your thoughts that cruel intention of making my death more terrible and more insupportable to me. I shall haply entertain it with constancy enough if I suffer it in the hope that you will live, and that, it may be, happily: but if I am so lost to all happiness as to engage you in my misfortune, I shall die with the greatest confusion and despair that ever man did.  
While the son of Juba spoke to this purpose, the Princess looking on him with certain discoveries of her resentment, Cease, cruel man (said she to him) cease thy refusal of my company in what may happen to thee, since it is my desire thou shouldst participate of what befalls me, and hope not by thy words to divert me from a resolution which nothing is able to shake. I will live inseparably with thee as long as the Gods shall continue our joint lives, and I shall die with thee, it may be with constancy enough not to leave my memory any reproach of my wickedness. I am to acknowledge the kindness of my fortune towards me that I have this opportunity to assure thee that I have truly lov●d thee; for should I do less then suffer death for thy sake, I could not acquit myself of what I owe thy Love and Services, nor make satisfaction for an offence whereby we are fallen into these misfortunes. Do not therefore any longer oppose my will, which should have an absolute power over thine, if thou art still constant to me, and torment me not to no purpose, by entertaining with repugnance the only assurance of my affection I can now give thee. Go (continued she, speaking to Sempronius) and give Caesar an account of what you have seen, and tell him, That I undauntedly expectdeath with a husband from whom all the powers in the world shall not be able to separate me. Ah Madam (said Sempronius to her) be not so lost to prudence as to take that resolution, and be pleased to consider what you may hope and what you may fear from the authority of Caesar.  
Caesar (replies the Princess) hath lawful authority over me; he may remember that may Father was his equal, though he oppressed him by his fortune, and will find, that though he hath deprived his children of all Empire and dignity, he hath not taken away their courage, But, Madam (replies Sempronius) I have no order to leave you here, nor dare return to Caesar without bringing you along with me. Thou shalt not force me hence (replies the Princess) unless thou first take away my life, and if thou offerest me any violence thou wilt haply repent the execution of it.  
While she thus spoke, and by the earnestness she was in, discovered in her countenance, more the ordinary, the Majesty of the Cleopatra's, Sempronius was much at a loss; and if on the one side he was afraid of Caesar's displeasure for leaving Cleopatra and Coriolanus, contrary to the order he had received, he durst not, on the other, hazard the offering of any violence to the Princes, as well by reason of the respect which her admiral excellencies forced into all the world, as the fear he was in to draw upon himself the resentments of her Brothers, the Princess Octavia and Marcellus, whom he knew to be the most powerful persons in the Empire, and a great number of others against whom he would hardly have made his party good; so that having spent a little time in thinking which side to embrace, he resolved to go to the Emperor to give him an account of what had passed, and to receive new orders from him upon that emergency. The Prince of Mauritania, uncertain of his condition, having his Soul divided between the joy he conceived at such extraordinary demonstrations of his Princess' love, and the grief he felt at the resolution she had taken to die with him, was thinking how to draw all the danger upon himself alone, and divert it from a life he considered much otherwise then his own, and he was in hope to find out some expedient to do it: But he forbore all further contestation with the Princess, as having his tongue tied by the great respect he had for her: and only by his looks acquainting her in some measure with the different effects of those two passions that were struggling within him. After the departure of Sempronius, the Princess addressing herself to Levinus, desired the favour to see her Brother Prince Caesario; and whereas it was hard to deny any thing to a person whose beauty was yet more persuasive than her discourse, and that Levinus was no enemy of her House, but one that had more than ordinary respects for Marcellus, whom he knew very much to concern himself in her fortune, he would gladly have given her that satisfaction had he not stood in fear of Caesar's displeasure, whose express order he acquainted her with, excusing himself so to her, as that she turned all the resentment she conceived thereat against Augustus, without laying any thing to his charge who was only the instrument of his cruelty, and seemed to execute his orders with a certain regret.  
While these things passed, the Emperor was in the Palace, having about him those great Princes who were then in his Court, among whom there were few who did not endeavour all they could to appease him, and divert the danger which the imprisoned Princes were in. Among all these the great King of Scythia, as he was the person for whom, of all the Kings, Augustus had the greatest esteem, as well upon the occount of his admirable virtues, as that of his Dignity, and the greatness of his Territories, which had no dependence on the Empire, and which were hardly acquainted with the Roman name; so was it he, who with most confidence mediated for the Princes: and took it most impatiency that his solicitations prevailed no more with Augustus than they did. He had many times acquainted him with his thoughts of it with much freedom, and made no difficulty to tell him, That that kind of proceeding would in all likelihood destroy the reputation he was so desirous of, and was already spread of him in the world of a just and obliging Prince. But when he understood that he had secured Artaban, for whom he had an extraordinary esteem, Artaban acknowledged a Prince of the Royal Blood of Parthia, he was hardly able to contain himself within the moderation which he was forced to observe in a place where he was not powerful enough to follow his own inclinations, but confidently told Caesar, That the dignity of all Kings and Princes was concerned in that treatment of his towards a Prince of the most illustrious Extraction in the world; one that was to be King of a Monarchy which had never yielded to any other in the Universe: That by that action he renewed the war against the Parthians, and that the success of it were the more to be feared for that he had no justice of his side, and that several other Princes, dissatisfyed with his proceedings, would haply engage with those whom he should oppress: That besides all this, there was this misfortune in the present emergency, that the Princes whom he kept in restraint, and against whom he discovered so much animosity, were, of all men, the three most considerable for their Valour and admirable Endowments; and it would be thought that in their persons he were become the persecutor of Virtue itself, and whatever the world accounted most great and amiable: That in all Ages, and among all Nations, Coriolanus, Cesario and Artaban would be looked on with Admiration, Veneration and Respect, and that it would be the amazement of all the world, how he could have made the objects of his displeasure, the three persons, who of all, were the most likely to raise contrary passions in him.  
It was with much ado that Augustus endured this free discourse of Alcamenes, and had he not considered in his person, not only one of the greatest Kings in the world, and a man miraculous for his extraordinary actions, but a King, who out of an excessive civility, had, contrary to the custom of those of his Rank, come to visit him, and put himself into his hands with so much freedom, and without any necessity he would haply have made him feel the effects of a resentment, he found it no small difficulty to smother. Besides, he was otherwise dissatisfyed with him, as having heard of his affection towards the persons in disgrace, and desire to see Artaban after his being secured; and if at first he had entertained him with much satisfaction and extraordinary respects, he then conceived a jealousy of him, and could heartily have wished him in the midst of Scythia, as not without some violence enduring to see near him a person capable of the highest enterprises, nor without confusion such a witness of his unjust and violent proceeding. It happened that while he was speaking to him, the chamber had been full of Princes and great persons, who though they stood at some distance had overheard some part of their conversation. Among those the King of Media, whose courage was heightened with the revival of his hopes, though little countenanced by any other, had been of the nearest and most attentive to their discourse; and having heard Alcamenes several times speaking of Artaban, as a person that should be husband to Elisa, and King of Parthia, he thought himself, out of a respect to his interest and honour, obliged to make some reply; so that waiting Augustus and Alcamenes' coming towards them, I know not, my Lord (said he to Caesar) whether you are persuaded Artaban should be treated as a man who is infallibly to be King of Parthia; but if his pretensions to that rank depend on a Marriage with Elisa, they are weakly grounded since you are not ignorant, my Lord, that while I live he cannot hope any such thing.  
Alcamenes could not with any patience endure the discourse of the Median, and looking scornfully on him, If Artaban (said he to him) had no more to do then maintain his pretensions against you, we should not be so much troubled for him as we are, and I have heard you are not in too likely a condition to execute your intentions against him; nor indeed shall we charge you with contributing much to his misfortune, but it is our regret to find him exposed to a far more dangerous power then yours.  
The King of Media a little fired at the discourse of Alcamenes, and conceiving himself engaged to some reply, was preparing to answer him, and haply troubled to find terms wherein to express himself to such a person as Alcamenes, when King Archelaus, who was in the room with other Princes, and had taken notice what passed, and upon some consideration or other had forborn to discover what he had to say against Tigranes, comes up to him, and looking on him with a fierce and resolute countenance, I have hitherto Tygranes (said he to him) born with your proceeding out of reasons I shall acquaint Caesar with, when it shall be requisite, and should still bear therewith out of the small advantage I find in opposing it, if the person most concerned therein were guilty of sentiments suitable to mine. You have not, I suppose, forgotten, how that being forced to fly your Country upon the successes of the Parthians there, and the valour of Artaban, you took refuge in my Kingdom, and in my Palace, where you found not only the entertainment you expected, but also those assistances which raised you into the Throne, out of which you were fallen. In fine, you cannot but acknowledge, That it is to Prince Philadelph and myself that you owe your Crown, and that we put it on your head by the success of our forces, with the loss of our Blood and hazard of our Lives. This the Emperor himself knows to be true, and with him all the world; but he is ignorant, that during your abode with us, and while you expected your restauration from our assistance, you pretended a passionate affection for the Princess Urania my Sister, insomuch, that after many assurances of Love, Real or Personated, I know not, you promised to Marry her, when by our supplies you should have recovered the Kingdom you had lost. You know I was not ignorant of the promise you made her, though it was not out of that motive I engaged in your Party, and drew in the Prince of Cilicia; and that I never looked on it as advantageous either to me or Urania: and I assure you I should still dissemble it, and leave you at liberty to address yourself elsewhere if my Sister's intentions were not different from mine, as being resolved to press you to the performance of your promise. You know she is of a Blood and Rank equal to your own, and that if she cannot, as the Prince of Parthia, bring you a Crown for her dower, she may reproach you, That you owe your own to her Brother, & make you acknowledge, That the condition you were in when you made your address to her was such as admittedno pretensions to the Crown of Parthia, & that you thought yourself very happy in herentertainment of the affection you had or at least pretended to have for her. To no purpose therefore is it for you to pretend a Marriage with the Princess of Parthia, for when you have overcome all other obstacles, which you will find hard to do, you shall meet with one great eenough in me to retard the execution of your design, while I shall live and carry a sword by my side,  
Great attention was given by that illustrious company to this discourse of the King of Cappadocia, and as there was few present who had not an esteem for the Virtue of Artaban, and a respect for the excellencies of Elisa, so were there few who were not in some measure glad to see the pretensions of Archelaus so cross to those of the King of Media. For the Emperor having no real design to countenance Tigranes, and only making use of him to have a more specious pretence to deliver the Princess of Parthia in order to the love of Agrippa, he looked on the action, and heard the discourse of King Archelaus with much indifference, and patiently expected what answer the King of Media would make him. Tygranes was not able to smother the confusion which this discourse of Archelaus put him into nor hinder a certain blush from spreading into his face; he was for a while at a strange loss, the greater haply, for that he perceived in the Emperor's countenance how little he concerned himself in that adventure, Yet being a person of courage, and very loath to change Elisa for Urania, he would make some reply, and looking very fiercely on Archelaus, Methinks (said he to him) you very late and very unseasonably discover your concernment in my intentions, and that you might have done it more civilly, and haply with better success when I was less engaged. I acknowledge I received from you, in my misfortune, those assistances which might be expected from Allies, and such as I would have affored you upon the like occasion; nor shall, I deny, that during my abode with you, I have expressed towards the Princess, Urania, that complacency which is due to Beauty; nay, gave her some assurances of the effect her excellencies might produce in my inclinations; but I think you were not ignorant of the passion which even at that time I had for the Princess of Parthia; and if you were privy to the promise I had made your Sister, I wonder you opposed not my design upon the first knowledge you had of it, especially when I was upon a Treaty with the King of Parthia, both about a Peace and the Marriage. You know (saith the King of Cappadocia, interrupting him) you ever concealed your design from me, and that I had left the Army some few days before you sent your Ambassadors to Phraates. When I percieved the business past remedy I thought fit to conceal what I knew, and the world was ignorant of, and should have done so still had I not understood within these few days that it hath taken air much more than I should have wished. If you had any inclinations for Elisa, when you took refuge in Cappadocia you should not have pretended any for Urania, and make her promises, which among persons of our Rank ought not out of any consideration to be broken. Nor was Urania of a birth to be made the object of a personated passion, nor her Brother of a nature to brook such an indignity, not at least from Tigranes of any man in the world. I defered for some days what I now do, upon the entreaties of Prince Philadelph, who without noise and violence would have minded you of what you ought your Ally and Benefactor. I have since expected the curing of your wounds, which suffered me not to acquaint you with my intentions, while you were not in a condition to give me satisfaction: but now that nothing either can or aught to hinder you from doing it, take notice, before the Emperor and all the Kings and Princes that hear us, I am resolved to make you perform the promise you have made my Sister, or with all the force I can have of my own, or borrow of my Friends, revenge the injury you do me, or decide the difference by a single Combat between you and myself.  
Tigranes was incensed into a degree of fury at this discourse of Archelaus; and looking on him with much fierceness, Of the three propositions you make me (said he to him) I except only against the first; and though I have an esteem for the beauty and merit of the Princess Urania, yet the love I have for Elisa, and your outrageous proceeding afford me not the freedom to satisfy it. So that I leave you to the choice of either War of a private Combat; and within a few days I shall be in a condition to answer you in either. You express yourself very generously (replied the King of Cappadocia) and because it were not just to ruin Nations, and spill so much innocent blood in our particular difference, if it may be avoided, I challenge you to a Duel, which shall be fought in the presence of the Emperor, if he please to permit it, and to appoint the place; or upon our frontiers, or in any part of the world you shall pitch upon. I accept the challenge (replied the Median) and I make it my suit with you to the Emperor that he would appoint the place. Within three days I doubt not to be ready, as hoping by that time I shall have recovered my strength to that degree as to be able to deal with you.  
Agustus with much patience harkened to the discourse of the two Kings; & having heard their joint relation, There is no necessity (said he to them) to come to that extremity, if it may be avoided, and it is somewhat more than ordinary to see Kings decide their differences that way; we shall find some other expedient to reconcile you, if it be possible; the interest of two such persons being more considerable then to be lest to the same hazard with that of private persons.  
To this he added other reasons, whereby be obliged them to expect some days what he should have resolved on as to their quarrel; and thereupon all that illustrious Court siding with the one or the other, according to their inclinations, the greater part favoured Archelaus, whom all the world esteemed for his Virtue; and Tigranes had the affliction to see himself countenanced by very few. For besides the respect had for Archelaus' person upon the account of his excellent endowments, therewas a certain justice caused a general satisfaction, to see him oppose the pretensions of a person who had already made himself odious by disturbing the felicity of Elisa and Artaban, for whom all had an affection respect. Archelaus indeed acknowledged to several of his friends, That it was out of no other motive that he acted a part much against his nature, and that he pressed Tigranes to the performance of a Promise from which he would have dispensed with him, merely to deliver the Princess of Parthia from his unjust persecution.  
The Emperor's Chamber was full of the noise which this adventure had raised, when Sempronius comes in to give Caesar an account of the interview between Cleopatra and Coriolanus. The King of Scythia, and divers other Kings and Princes were gone out of the room and the Emperor no sooner perceives Sempronius, but calling him, and taking him to the bed side, he heard what he had to say to him, Sempronius gave him a particular relation of what he had seen and heard, and at last acquainted him with the several relations of Cleopatra and the Prince of Mauritania. Those who observed the Emperor's countenance while Sempronius was speaking to him, took notice it was with some impatience that he heard that discourse and that he was giving way to a displeasure whereof the consequenes might prove very fatal. In that interim Aquilius, whom the taking of Caesario had raised into some credit, coming to him, told him, That Queen Candace was carrying on some secret designs in Alexandria, either in order to the liberty of Caesario, or upon some other account, that she had brought into the City certain Aethiopians, who till then had kept close in the ships, and who were to come to Alexandria along with Caesario, and that the Governor of that Prince who lurked about the City, secretly endeavoured to persuade the people to an insurrection, to serve the Relations of their ancient Kings.  
If the discourse of Sempronius put Caesar into any disturbance, that of Aquilius much heightened it, and from both he took a resolution, without any further delay, to put to death two Princes, one whereof had done him such injuries as might bring his Authority into contempt, and to the other was likely to raise trouble in the Empire, and disturb his Government: and being much persuaded that there was an intelligence between Artaban and Caesario, and fearing what such a person might attempt, if he were so minded, he resolved to have him sent to the Castle where the other two Princes were in restraint, not thinking him safe enough in the Lodgings where he had caused him to be secured. He was upon these thoughts, and to that purpose issued out his Orders to Sempronius, Aquilius, and Petranius, a considerable person among the Romans, one to whom he had promised the Government of Egypt; when Prince Marcellus comes into the Chamber, and comg up to him (a freedom he had above all others) he guessed at his cruel intentions by the discoveries he perceived thereof in his countenance, & the private conference he found him in with those persons whom he most suspected. His friendship towards Juba and Cleopatra raised in him a sudden fear of the worst could happen, whereon looking on the Emperor with an action wherein might be observed what was so burdensome to his thoughts, My Lord (said he to him) I see about you the person whom you ordered to wait on the Princess Cleopatra to the Castle, and I read in his countenanee, as also in your own, that you are not satisfied with the account he gives you of his carriage.  
The Emperor having not at this time the absolute command of his dissimulation, as upon most occasions he had, Cleopatra (said he to him) is desirous of Coriolanus' death, and hath charged Sempronius to tell me so much, and I promise her she shall not be long without that satisfaction, since she so much prefers it before a Marriage with Tiberius. She stays in the Castle with her Lover and Brother, and they altogether are egaged in a conspiracy, which they would carry on by secret intelligences in Alexandria. But I shall prevent them, and before the Sun shines another day upon us, there shall neither the Servant nor Brother of Cleopatra be in a condition to attempt any thing against me. My Lord (replies Marcellus) whatever the Princess Cleopatra, or any related to her, may do in order to the safety of her Lover, and that of her Brother, I will be responsible as far as my life will be taken, that neither Cleopatra, nor any that have relation to her, shall ever attempt any thing against you; and as I have for them a friendship you have ever approved, so am I confident they are so far tender thereof, as never to attempt aught against him, who though my Sovereign Lord, yet had the goodness to treat me as his Son, And therefore, my Lord, I am humbly to entreat you, by all the affection you are pleased to honour me with, not to precipitate any thing upon the impression which some would put into you, and to examine those truths which interest and artifice may disguise. Those truths (replied the Emperor very sharply) I am but too well satisfied of, and shall look farther into them after the execution of these enemies, whose offences are more notorious then to need any further examination. Ah, my Lord (replies Marcellus) I perceive you have resolved the destruction of the unfortunate Coriolanus, because no doubt he hath preferred the loss of his life before that of Cleopatra. But, my Lord (continued he, casting himself at his feet) if it be true that that you have any thing of that goodness which you have ever expressed towards me, deny me not the favour I beg, to see Coriolanus and Cleopatra once more, and to endeavour their compliance with your desires. I know they will both consider the friendship I have for them, and will be persuaded to that upon my entreaty, which no other consideration would haply incline them to. Give me leave, my Lord, to represent unto them once for all what they ought to do, both in relation to our friendship, and the necessity, there is of obeying you; and assure yourself that if they deny what I shall desire of them, I will never solicit you more on their behalf.  
These last words of Marcellus proved more powerful with Augustus then any thing he had said before, and the promise he made not to importune him any more with his entreaties, got him his desires granted, notwithstanding the resolution which the Emperor had already taken. Well (said he to him) be it as you desire, and if you can yet persuade Cleopatra to a marriage with Tiberius, you save the life of Coriolanus: But if after this favour granted he refuse it, never press me to any thing more, and resolve to see him perish without so much as opening your mouth on his behalf. Marcellus accepted of the condition, and would immediately have gone to the Castle where the Princes were kept; but it being already night, the Emperor would have him defer it till the next morning, delaying, till after the success of his enterprise, what he had resolved, as well in relation to the death of Caesario, as closer imprisonment of Artaban, whose guards he ordered to be doubled, till such as he should think fit to send him to the old Castle. He sent order to Levinus to have a care of the Princess Cleopatra, but by no means to permit her to any conference with her Brother, nor any secret conversation with Coriolanus.  
This night was the saddest that ever was seen in Alexandria; and whereas all the most illustrious persons there were concerned in the misfortune of Cleopatra, and the affliction of Marcellus, few seemed to be sensible of, or at least to express any joy. All the acquaintances of Cleopatra, especially those of her own Sex, were astonished at her resolution, though they were not ignorant of the greatness of her courage; and among others the generous Octavia was no less troubled at it then if she had been her own Mother, and indeed accordingly was to her as a real Mother, that all addressed themselves to express the affliction they conceived at that adventure, wherein she herself was doubly concerned, both in regard of the affliction she had for Cleopatra, and what she suffered upon the grief of Marcellus. The Princesses her daughters, and particularly Cleopatra's two sisters were overwhelmed with grief thereat, but the fair Antonia to such a degree, as that all her constancy was but necessary to make her capable of any comfort upon that occasion. That evening the amorous Drusus being come to visit her at Octavia's Chamber, which was full of the most illustrious persons about Augustus' Court, and observing in her countenance, among all the signs of an unsupportable grief, some appearance of scorn more than ordinary towards him, was extremely troubled thereat, though not ignorant of the reason of it. Whereupon looking on the Princess, so as she might perceive in his eyes both his affliction and his love, Is it possible, Madam, (said he to her) I should be at last fallen into the misfortune I have ever dreaded, and be exposed, in some measure, to your indignation, because I am son to Livia and Brother to Tiberius? I have no indignation against you (replies the Princess) but you may well imagine that I cannot without an excess of affliction see it is from your Mother and Brother that all the misfortune, haply the absolute ruin of our House proceeds. Woe is me! (replies the son of Livia with a very doleful accent) must I be so unhappy, as notwithstanding my innocency, to be numbered among the guilty? and do you not own that justice, as to consider I do all that can with honour be expected from me, to satisfy the world how little I am engaged in the sentiments and concernments of my Brother? I know not (replies the fair Antonia) whether you might not do somewhat more, considering the interest you have in the Empress. But however it may be, my grief proceeds not from any dissatisfaction I have of you; and yet I am rationally induced to believe, that if the misfortune we so much fear happen by the death of Coriolanus, by that of Cleopatra, who will not survive him; and by the interest which Marcellus and the children of Anthony take in both, neither my Mother nor Brothers will ever consent I should marry the Son and Brother of those who had been the Authors of our misery.  
These words were as so many thorns to the breast of Drusus; who looking on the Princess after a manner wholly passionate, I should think myself but too happy (said he to her) if this fear should occasion you any trouble, since I should thereby find out what I have not been able to discover since I first made my addresses to you: But I must conceive myself very miserable, if through others faults I should lose a fortune which so many virtuous persons have encouraged me to hope; and you may be confident that after such a loss that of my life would little trouble me. Mean time think not I omit any thing I ought to do, neither as to Livia or Tiberius; and if I prove so unhappy as to fall into the misfortune you threaten me, be pleased to imagine I shall entertain it the more heinously by how much the less I have deserved it, and that I shall no more survive that loss than Coriolanus shall that of Cleopatra.  
These words fell from Drusus in so passionate a manner, that notwithstanding the grief she was in, Antonia was troubled thereat; and looking on him with more mildness than her natural severity ordinarily admitted, If this misfortune happens to you (said she to him) (if at least it be a misfortune to you) it shall not through my fault, but you know I must obey those at whose disposal I am; nor are you much to wonder if you see me submit to commands contrary to my inclinations. If therefore the unhappiness be so great in your apprehension as you express it, endeavour what you can to prevent it, and bestir yourself in a thing where you are so much concerned somewhat more than you would do purely for the relief of oppressed virtue.  
Drusus was much inclined of himself to what the Princess pressed him to, so that there needed not so much solicitation to oblige him to slight a many considerations which might have held a less amorous and less virtuous person in a long suspense. Accordingly from that time his thoughts were upon a resolution worthy his great courage, and the Nobleness of both his Soul and Love. He discovered nothing to the Princess, by reason of the coming up to them of Julia, Artemisa, Ismenia, Julius Antonius, and Armiaius; and not long after leaving the Room, he went to the Empress, to make his last remonstrances to her on the behalf of those whom only her Authority crushed into misfortune.  
Such of the illustrious company which then were at Alexandria as were not at Octavia's, were with the Queen of Parthia, Elisa and the Queen of Ethiopia, who, united in affection and interest, were according to their different humours brooding different resolutions, though both equally determined to die for the safety of their beloved Princes. The beautiful Arsinoe and the Princess Olympia were come to visit them, with the King of Armenia and Prince of Cilicia, who were insensible of their own good fortune by reason of their sympathy with the misfortunes of others. The King of Cappadocia was there also; with the Princess Andromeda, for whom he already had a violent inclination; and the Princess Urania was come thither along with Andromeda, though not without betraying in her countenance somewhat of confusion, upon thought of what had happened that day concerning her. Though the company was excellently good, yet was the conversation nothing divertive; and when they thought it time to leave the Queen of Parthia to her rest, all withdrew, and passed away the night in sorrow and disquiet, either out of a reflection on their own sufferings, or the compassion they had for those of so many other illustrious persons who groaned under their misfortunes.   
The end of the Third Book.   

HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA; OR Loves Masterpiece. Part. XII.  
LIB. IV.  
ARGUMENT.  
MArcellus is permitted to go to the Castle to get Cleopatra thence, and persuade her to a marriage with Tiberius; but in stead of proposing it, stays there with Drusus, who had gone along with him, both resolved to save the life of Coriolanus▪ or lose their own. Sempronius acquaints Augustus and Livia with the resolutions of Marcellus and Drusus, whereupon order is given that Coriolanus and Caesario should be immediately put to death, Artaban carried to the Castle, and the children of Anthony secured for fear of an Insurrection. Candace hearing of it, and meeting with Alexander and Ptolomey goes along with them to a quarter of Alexandria, where Eteocles with 300 Aethiopians and some of the Inhabitants expected her Orders, with an intention to storm the Castle. In their way they rescue Artaban as he was carried thither by a party of Soldiers, who joining with them the Castle is stormed. Sempronius and Aquilius coming to execute the Emperor's Order upon Coriolanus and Caesario, are killed by Ptolomey and Eteocles; and Petronius escapes to acquaint the Emperor with what passed, who thereupon summons the Praetorian Bands, and comes against the Castle taken by the Princes. Coriolanus and Caesario spying the Emperor, sally out, put to flight and the Sword all in the Moat, and make towards the place where he was, and Caesario, having made his way to him, was going to strike at him, but the blow received by Coriolanus. Julius Antonius gets into the Castle. Ptolomey and Levinus bringing new recruits, and representing to Augustus that the Castle was unfurnished of provisions, he resolves to starve the besieged, for whom the whole Court solicit. Artaban acquaints Caesario with his being Son to Pompey. The besieged make a Sally, with a design to get to the Ships, but are forced back with loss into the Castle; upon which all the Princes bewail the sad extremities they are reduced to. Tiberius' exasperated by the resolution of Cleopatra to die with Coriolanus is comforted by the Mathematician Thrasyllus with hopes of the Empire. Agrippa not knowing by order from Augustus any thing of what passed, receives a Letter from Elisa. Caesar's dream, and reflections thereon. The design of Alcamenes, and other Princes, in order to the relief or deliverance of the besieged; their fruitless addresses to the Emperor on their behalf. Coriolanus is brought before Caesar, who order Norbanus to put him to death; but Marcellus with Cleopatra coming in, stay him. Augustus is made sensible that Coriolanus was the person that saved his life the day before, whereupon reflecting on his Dream, he inclines to mercy towards him, and with the consent of the Empress is content he should have Cleopatra, for whose sake Caesario hath also his liberty. Agrippa intercedes for Artaban and Elisa. Tigranes is persuaded to perform his promise with Urania, and reconciled with Archelaus. Queen Candace, Artaban and Caesaio are brought to the Palace. The Emperor entertains the whole Court at Dinner; after which he ordered that within three days the adventures of so many Illustrious persons, should receive their period by their several Marriages; So that having joined together at Alexandria the valiant Coriolanus with his divine Cleopatra, Artaban with Elisa, Caesario with Queen Candace, Marcellus with the Princess Julia, Drusus with the fair Antonia, the King of Armenia with his Olympia, Philadelph King of Cicilia with his amiable Arsinoe, Alexander with his Artemisa, Archelaus with the virtuous Andromeda, Tigranes with Urania, and the valiant Arminius with his dear Ismenia, he left to be celebrated at Rome that of Agrippa, as also that of Domitius with Agrippina, Ptolomey with Marcia, and Lentulus with Tullia.  
AS soon as it was day, Prince Marcellus, whose Friendship filled him with fears and disquiet, not inferior to those which are the effects of the most violent Love, in souls absolutely possessed thereby, starts out of his bed in order to his departure from the Palace, to go to and acquaint the Princess Cleopatra with what he had to say to her from the Emperor. But ere he was quite dressed Drusus comes into his Chamber: He had not seen him since the Combat between Coriolanus and Tiberius, and those other great accidents which had raised so much disturbance in Alexandria; and though he had an infinite esteem for his virtue, and saw nothing in his person which was not truly great and amiable, yet the resentment he had of the tyrannical proceeding of Livia and Tiberius, and the present affliction he was in for the misfortune of his friend, made him consider him in some measure as the Brother of Tiberius, though he had an extraordinary respect for him as Drusus and servant to Antonia; and if he could not hate him, because he saw no ground of hatred against a person he so much loved, and though worthy his friendship, yet was he guilty of a certain dissatisfaction, which remitted, if not quite took away, the Love that before he had conceived for him. Drusus read some part of this truth in his very countenance, but smothering his own thoughts he gave him the time of the day as he was wont to do; and Marcellus having received him with much civility, but such as spoke a certain violence to himself. May I presume to ask you (says Drusus to him) Whither you intent so betimes in the morning? I am going (replies Marcellus) to the Castle where Coriolanus is now a prisoner, to dispose Cleopatra, according to the Emperor's Order, to a marriage with Tiberius. I cannot imagine (replies Drusus) that my Brother should hope any such good office from you, nor indeed think it fit that you should be pressed thereunto: but not to be too inquisitive into your affairs, will you give me leave to wait on you in this visit if the Emperor will permit it? The company of such a Prince as you are (replies Marcellus) cannot but be honourable to those you offer it, nor indeed have I any thing to say either to Coriolanus or Cleopatra, which may not well be heard by even the Brother of Tiberius. I see (replies Drusus) your thoughts are such of me as if you knew me not very well, and am to learn why you now look on me rather as Brother to Tiberius then Servant to Antonia and friend to Marcellus, and all the house of Octavia. But however it may be, it is not to be a spy of your actions, or to serve Livia or the Emperor that I desire to wait on you, but rather to convince you of an opinion which you cannot from any action of mine have conceived of me. Let me entreat you therefore not to look on me any longer as brother to a person you love not; but as one whom you have promised your friendship, one haply not unworthy of it, and such as is ready to do any thing to preserve it.  
Marcellus, being a person of an excellent good Nature, was extremely moved at these words of Drusus, and looking on him with some marks of confusion, I crave your pardon (said he to him) if I have done you any injury; not that you have by any action of yours given me occasion to be distrustful of you, but my grief is such as affords me not the liberty to discern the innocent from the guilty; so that I am to believe your desire to go to the place whither I am going proceeds from a motive consonant to your virtue; and if the Emperor will permit it, I shall be glad in your presence to acquit myself of the charge he hath laid upon me.  
Having so said, he sent to the Emperor to know whether he were awake, and receiving answer that he was, he sent him word, That to assure him of the sincerity wherewith he intended to execute the Order he had entrusted him with, he desired it might be before such persons as he should least suspect upon that occasion, and to that end entreated him to permit that it might be in the presence of Tiberius' his own Brother. The Emperor made no difficulty to grant it, and sent order to Livinus to receive Marcellus and Drusus into the Castle.  
The two Princes went together from the Palace towards the Old Castle, into which none were suffered to enter, but they two and Sempronius, all those that came along with them being stayed at the gate. The Princess Cleopatra had passed away that night in the same Chamber with Coriolanus; and though Levinus had preffered her another, yet would she not by any means accept of his courtesy, out of a fear that if she once left Coriolanus she should not be permitted to see him any more. Vainly had the Prince embraced her by the knees, with the most earnest entreaties he could possibly make, to leave a place so unworthy of her, and to return to Octavia; nay he was so far from persuading her thereto, that at last she grew angry with him, and forbidding him with all the Authority she had over him to speak to her any more of it, she was desirous to be informed what she yet knew not of his adventures, and to understand what she had but confusedly heard concerning the artifices of Tiberius and Volusius, and the particulars of his own sentiments, and those of Marcellus.  
It being about the time of the year when the nights are at shortest, they had spent the whole night partly in contestation, partly in discourse; and though according to Caesar's order, Levinus had been with them most part of the time, or in his absence, such of the guard as he appointed for that purpose, the Prince and Princess being reduced to that extremity as not to either fear, or hope, any thing from the discovery of their affairs, entertained one another before those witnesses with as much freedom and indifference as if they had been alone. The Princess' Women having also stayed with Coriolanus, had much ado to persuade him to take any thing of what Levinus had sent in, but could not by any means oblige him to cast himself on a bed for ever so little time, and though they doubted not but that as soon as it were day, Octavia and the Princesses her Daughters, and such other persons as Augustus should permit, would come to get her thence, yet had she several times professed to Coriolanus, that nothing should prevail with her so far as to force her away without him, and that she should find a way to be her own death, upon the first offer of any violence to that purpose.  
The Prince equally transported with grief and joy, expressed both with much disorder, when word was brought Levinus of the arrival of Marcellus and Drusus by the Emperor's order; whereupon going to the gate to receive them in, he immediately returns with them, and conducts them into the chamber. Cleopatra and Coriolanus had indeed conceived very great hopes from the generosity of Marcellus, but imagined not to find him attended by a brother of Tiberius, and were not a little astonished to find them together. Coriolanus was of opinion that Augustus would not have permitted Marcellus to come, unless it were with a person who to further the interest of his brother should oppose what Marcellus out of his friendship might attempt against his Rival; but Cleopatra acquainted with the virtue of Drusus judged otherwise; yet not satisfied what construction to make of it, she patiently expected what would be the issue of that visit. Coriolanus being the person that stood most in need of the assistances of his friends upon that occasion, and whom the son of Octavia was particularly to satisfy for the injuries he had done him, it was to him that he ran with open arms, and a countenance all tears; and the Prince having received him in a like posture, those two Illustrious friends embraced one the other with all the demonstrations of a tender affection which could be expected upon the like occasion. The first discoveries of their friendship, which could not be expressed by words, kept them a long time silent; but, at last Marcellus recovering himself, Brother, said he to him, here comes that cruel, or rather that unfortunate friend, who hath been able to hate you, and to endeavour the loss of a life which he should have valued above his own; and since I can do no less then sacrifice my life to make satisfaction for such a crime; I bring it to that purpose, resolved to lose it with you, if I cannot preserve yours. Augustus would have me to advise, nay to conjure you, by all the friendship between us, to save it by disclaiming all pretensions to Cleopatra; but since I am satisfied of your courage, your constancy, and the value you set on the worth and affection of my Sister, I can rather die then make any such proposition to you: If Heaven therefore and their power whom fortune hath made our masters will not suffer you to live and enjoy Cleopatra, and if I cannot obtain of Augustus the life of my Friend, but upon terms more cruel than the death prepared for him, let us die brother let us die together examples of love and friendship, and convince our enemies that neither artifice nor authority can break those knots which tied by virtue are indissoluble. If fortune will have us crushed by the power of a person she hath raised above us, friendship makes us triumph over his cruelty, and we shall be sufficiently revenged of him, in that with one whom he hates as an enemy, there dies another, that he loved as his son.  
While Marcellus was thus speaking, Sempronius and Levinus harkened to him with much astonishment; and if the day before they had been amazed at the deportment of Cleopatra, they were now much more at that of the Prince, in whom they could not have imagined that friendship should produce so extraordinary an effect; insomuch that Sempronius not able to dissemble it any longer, nor expect what answer Coriolanus, would make; What, my Lord (said he to him) is it thus you execute the Emperor's Orders? or have you forgotten you are his sister's son, or rather his own, the darling of his affections, and hopes of the Romans? Sempronius, replies the Prince, not permitting him to proceed any further, you may tell Caesar that I disclaim all the hopes he hath put me into, and all the assurances I might receive of his affection, since he denies me the most considerable I could desire of him, in denying me the life of a friend, without whom he knows I cannot live; that I derogate not from the respect and the acknowledgements I owe his affection, since I express not my own towards my friend, otherwise then in dying with him, without any recourse to arms in his defence; that against any but Caesar I should make use of all things, either as to his relief or revenge; but that it being not lawful for me to lift up my hand against my Sovereign Lord and Benefactor, though for the safety of my friend, there is no reason should divert me from dying with him. You may also tell the Princess Julia, that I die constant to her service, and that if I injure the love I have for her, by sacrificing my life to friendship, she may remember how I sacrificed friendship to love, when a cruel misapprehension armed me against my Friend, and that the offences which love made me then commit against friendship, are now to be satisfied for; that she may yet employ the interest she hath in her Father on our behalf, but withal be confident I will run the fate with Coriolanus. Go Sempronius, and give Caesar, nay if you please all the world, this account of me, and be assured that nothing shall any way shake this resolution. Stay Sempronius, (says the King of Mauritania) and return not to Caesar, to acquaint him but with one half of this adventure. You have been a witness of the generosity of Marcellus, and shall not be of the baseness of Coriolanus, but know that death is not so terrible to him but that he can receive it alone, without such a companion. I am apt to believe this an effect of Augustus 's hatred, who would consummate that by friendship which he hath begun by love, since that after the Princess Cleopatra he sends Prince Marcellus to make death more insupportable to me, by the design they have against their own lives. But what ground soever I may have to quarrel at his cruelty, you may tell him that Marcellus is much more dear to me then Caesar is odious; that I am so far from giving my consent to the death of Marcellus, because of the revenge I might imagine to myself upon him, that for Marcellus his sake his person is sacred to me, and I would hazard my life to serve him though my persecutor and enemy, because he is loved by Marcellus. Whereupon turning to the Prince; Cruel Friend, said he to him, more cruel in the effects of your friendship then in those of your aversion, why will you disturb my last hours by the affliction you cause me, why will you not suffer me to entertain the joy I should conceive at the return of your friendship, without adding thereto the grief I must needs be sensible of upon the design you discover? I was but too too happy in the affection of my Princess and yours, and sufficiently satisfied with the resentment which you might both with justice have conceived, since it was not impossible you might be surprised by these artifices which deceived allthe world, so that there needed not this cruel reparation. Go then, dearest brother, go and resign yourself to a man, nay rather to a father to whom you are more obliged than you are to me; go and resign yourself to Julia, to whom you owe yourself wholly; and believe I shall die with much satisfaction, when I shall be assured that you might live happily. All things seem to favour you, the whole Universe contributes to your assurance of a glorious life, it is not therefore just that a wretch exposed from his birth to all manner of misfortunes should disturb the course of so hopeful a fortune. Many virtuous men have lost friends that were dear to them, and have found comfort after those losses, in time and their own courage; you may expect the same good office from both, and will find occasion enough to afford my memory such assurances of your affection, as I shall more value then those you offer me. I shall continue with you in the person of Cleopatra, and if possible put you in mind that you were ever her Brother, and that you ought to endeavour the furtherance of her fortunes and enjoyments, no less then if she were born of Octavia. I cannot receive a greater consolation at my death then what I have in leaving her between your arms; and I hope that by the kindnesses she shall receive from your friendship, her fortune may be happy when it shall be dis-ing aged from mine.  
The passionate son of Julia would have said more, if the Princess had not with much precipitation interrupted him; Forbear (said she to him) forbear, recommending Cleopatra to the friendship of Marcellus, and only divert him from his unjust resolution without troubling thy thoughts at the destiny of Cleopatra. Thou art not ignorant, at least shouldst not be if thou knowest me well, that after the Protestation I made to thee yesterday, nothing shall be able to separate me from thee but death, and I should have continued within those limits which modesty had prescribed me, if there had been anything in the world which might have hindered us. And thus much I had to say to Coriolanus; but for you brother (continued she turning to Marcellus) I have but too great reasons to oppose the unjust resolution you have taken. And I have such as are invincible (says the Prince, interrupting her) to persist in it, such as yours will ineffectually oppose; and though I had no other, then to see it is by his means whom of all the world I ought most to respect. I lose the person I most affect, and that to rescue my friend's life I cannot attempt that of the enemy who destroys him, there is no other mean to be taken then for a man to die with his friend; and therefore assure yourselves what ever you may allege against it, I will either save Coriolanus 's life, or suffer death with him.  
While these three generous persons outvyed one the other in this noble contestation and that Drusus not interrupting them, with admiration heard what passed Sempronius addressing himself to him; What shall we do in this misfortune (said he to him) and with what confidence can we give the Emperor an account of this strange adventure? you may do as you think sit (replies Drusits) but for my part I am already resolved what to do, and since you are to acquaint the Emperor with the resolution of Marcellus, you may tell the Empress, that my intentions are the same with those of Marcellus, and that having by my tears and entreaties vaiuly endeaveured to divert him from his cruel resolution, I have myself taken that which my love and my virtue inspired me with; that she should not have countenanced me in my inclinations for Antonia, if she were resolved to she'd the blood of her relations, and by her cruelty deprive me of a hope she had suffered me to conceive: That she had brought two sons into the world of much different inclinations, but that I will expiate what is odious in me upon the account of my birth, by an action that may render me worthy the affection of Antonia, and friendship of Marcellus; that by delivering myself up to those whom it is her design to ruin, I would give them an hostage for the punishment of her cruelty; and in a word, That I came not along with Marcellus but to run fortunes with him to the end, to undergo the same destiny with Marcellus and Cleopatra.  
This discourse of Drusus as it had been least expected, so did it raise the greater astonishment, insomuch that Marcellus turning to him with a certain precipitation; What Drusus (said he to him) shall your destiny be the same with those for Marcellus and Cleopatra? It shall Marcellus, replies Drusus, and I have so violent love for Antonia, as to have the courage to embrace the resolution you have taken. I know the affection and enjoyment of Antonia ought not to be expected by the son and brother of the persecutors and implacable enemies of her house; but am sensible withal, that I cannot but dying quit the hope I had conceived thereof, and I will satisfy both Antonia and yourself, who do me all the justice you should upon this occasion, how little I am concerned in the cruel design of your enemies, by exposing myself first to their cruelty, and punishing that of Livia by the death of Drusus, as you would that of Augustus by the loss of Marcellus.  
Prince Marcellus admiring this generous design of Drusus, came to him with his arms spread, and embracing him with much tenderness; Ah Drusus (said he to him) your virtue fills me with shame and confusion, but the discovery you now make of it was more than needed to produce the effect you desire; and as I am satisfied that your sentiments have ever been different from those of Livia and Tiberius, so are you to assure yourself, that our resentment was never directed against you, and that we never had any intention to make you lose what you had but too highly deserved from the affections of Antonia. Live for her sake, since she hath been so fortunate as to gain such a heart as yours, and be confident that all the misfortunes whereto the authority of Livia hath exposed us, cannot change the inclinations we have for your virtue, nor make us repent the joy we have conceived at the good fortune of our sister. What you say proceeds from abundance of generosity (replies Drusus) but it is as contrary to your intentions as it is favourable to mine, since I must entertain sentiments, so obliging with more acknowledgement than can admit my desertion of their interests and fortunes to whom I am so highly engaged, Ah Drusus (say the Princess Cleopatra to him with much mildness) preserve yourself, though but to comfort Antotonia in the grief which no doubt the will be in at our loss. I owe (replies the Prince) this demonstration of a love whereof she hath hitherto received but slight expressions, and certainly this opportunity is no more than I stood in need of, to persuade her to that which all my past actions have not been able to do.  
Coriolanus, who had not yet spoken to Drusus, thinking himself obliged to express his sentiments of what he did; I durst not (said he to him) join my entreaties to those of Cleopatra and Marcellus, out of a fear they might not be well taken by a brother of Tiberius'; but I can assure you, that as all the inconveniences I have by his means undergone have not diverted me from the acknowledgement and esteem I should have for your virtue, so do I not, to persuade either Marcellus or any of the house of Antonia, see any necessity of the discovery whereto you expose yourself. If you have had an esteem for me (replies Drusus) I assure you I have ever admired you, and that all the concernments of my brother have not hindered me from paying that to your worth which all acknowledge due to it. This reason may add somewhat to all the rest, to persuade you; if you will not receive me as a Hostage against your enemies to entertain me as a companion of your fortune; and if Sempronius stays only for this declaration, that he may give Cesar and Livia a full account of our resolutions, he need stay no longer. Nor shall I (says Sempronius to him) but go and with Cesar and Livia amaze all the world, that two Princes, such as Marcellus and Drusus, should disclaim the interests of Cesar and their own house, to join with their enemies. Whereupon he left the room, and going out of the Castle went to the Palace, to give Cesar an account of what passed among those Illustrious persons.  
The whole Court was in sadness and disturbance when he came thither, especially all the house of Octavia. That generous Princess after she had ineffectually made her application to Augustus, with whom the interest of Livia made the solicitations of all others fruitless, was preparing to go to the Castle with her daughters, & the children of Anth. to get Cleo. thence; but the Emperor stayed her, out of a confidence that Marcellus would bring her along with him, upon which hope they were in some impatience for the return of Marcellus, when Sempronius came thither: immediately gave Augustus a true relation of all that had passed, not disguising any thing; and by that discourse instead of raising any tenderness in him at the action of Marcellus, he put him into the most violent indignation he had ever been in. What, cries he, Marcellus, that Marcellus whom I loved not only as my son, but haply as myself, that Marcellus for whom I designed both my daughter and the place I have in the world, disclaims my party to embrace that of my enemies, and persers the friendship of a Babarian before that of Caesar, his Father and Benefactor! Ah unworthy, ah ungrateful person (continued he, walking up and down, extremely incensed:) I will punish thy ingratitude and baseness, and will begin thy punishment by the death of that African which he shall suffer before thy face. While he was speaking, he perceives the Empress coming into the room, and going to meet her; Madam (said he to her) you are treated by Drusus as I am by Marcellus, and your son guilty of an ingratitude great as that of my Nephew, disclaims all friendship with his brother and mother, and betrays his honour to take part with that enemy who hath so often sheathed his sword in his brother's breast. Livia, who had a greater affection for Drusus than she had for Tiberius, was extremely troubled at that account of him; but being one that had an excellent command of her wit, she in some measure stifled her grief before the Emperor, the better to persuade him that she was less sensible of what had happened to herself then what had befallen him. My Lord, (said she to him) Drusus' offence is yet more heinous than Marcellus', and though he may pretend the love he hath for Antonia as a colour for this extravagance, and so neglect the revenging of a brother, upon a man who had never been his friend as he was to Prince Marcellus, yet am I less troubled at his ingratitude, then at that of Marcellus, because you should be less sensible of it, and that the injury you receive from Marcellus is so much the greater by how much his person is dearer to you. I shall make him know, added the Emperor, that I am his Master when I cease to be his father, and before this day be over, he shall bewail in tears of blood the offence he hath committed.  
Upon which words, unwilling to delay any longer the effects of his resentment, and the resolution he had taken, he commanded Petronius and Aquilius to go along with Sempronius to the Castle, and without further Ceremony put to death Coriolanus and Cesario, and to bring away thence Cleopatra, Marcellus and Drusus, by violence. He at the same time ordered Geminius to go and find out Varus, who guarded Artaban, and to carry him under a strong guard to the Castle, where the other Princes were secured, and where they were to die that day; and commanded Norbanus to secure the children of Anthony, out of a fear, that to prevent the death of their brother Cesario, and to serve their sister Cleopatra, they might endeavour to make an insurrection in Alexandria, where the blood of the Ptolemy's was in a sacred veneration, and the government of the Romans abhorred.  
He issued out these Orders with so much precipitation and noise that they were immediately known all over the Palace, and thence spread into the City, before the persons, whom he had entrusted with the execution thereof, were in a condition to effect it. Queen Candace, who had her Spies every where, and was engaged in an enterprise worthy her great courage, had present notice brought her; whereupon not losing any time, as knowing there was very little to lose, she left her chamber and the Palace, taking Clitia with her, and ran a foot as she was, to that quarter of the City where Etcocles expected her Orders, with the Aethiopians, and a considerable number of the Inhabitants of Alexandria, whom having tampered with, he had engaged to hazard all things to save the blood of their Kings from being spilt. As she went out of the Palace she met Alexander and Ptolomey ready to take the alarm upon a confused noise that was come to their ears. Upon the first sight she runs to them, and speaking to them with a courage infinitely transcending her Sex, Alexander and Ptolomey (said she to them) sons of Cleopatra, and brothers to Cesario, will you suffer your brother to be put to a cruel death, and yourselves to be thrust into chains, as Cesar hath given order? No, we will rather lose our lives with him (replies Alexander) and go undaunted where our blood and honour require our assistances. Come then along with me (said she to him) and I will show you a way to save him, and haply to free yourselves from tyranny.  
With these words she took the two Brothers in both her hands, and walked between them towards the quarter where Eteocles was with the Aethiopians, guided by Clitia, who was acquainted with the design. The two Princes led her along with a resolution worthy themselves, and their just resentment made their eyes sparkle with a fire which was not ordinarily observable in them. The people seeing them pass by in that posture, flocked about them; upon which the two Princes discovering themselves were easily known to be the children of Anthony and Cleopatra; so that the Queen thinking it not amiss to say something to them. People of Alexandria (said she as she passed by) will you suffer what is remaining of the blood of your Kings to be this day spilt? Cesario, sometimes your beloved Prince, is in prison, where the executioner is haply now cutting his throat by order from your Tyrant, and see here his Brothers who expect the same fate if you rescue them not.  
Though she said this without making any halt, yet did it prove in some measure effectual; and the Princes adding thereto somewhat to the same effect, they found the people naturally affectionate to their Princes, and abhorring the Roman usurpation, so well disposed, that before they were come to the place where Eteocles expected them, they were followed with three or four hundred persons armed, as people are wont to be upon the like occasions. All histories that have made mention of Candace, have given her the character of a Queen of a very great courage, and one that durst engage in the greatest enterprises, and acquainted the world with the great actions she did some time after against Petronius Governor of Egypt, carrying on the War in person, and gaining great advantages upon him, insomuch that what she attempted and did upon that occasion, aught to be entertained with more credit than if it had been performed by a person not so extraordinary. The pressing extremity she was then reduced to, occasioned the hastening of a design which she had resolved to put in execution that night (as conceiving herself not strong enough to attempt it in the day time) which was, with Eteocles and the three hundred Ethiopians who attended Caesario to Alexandria, and whom Eteocles had secretly brought out of the ships, and the assistance of a good number of the Inhabitants of Alexandria, drawn in by Eteocles, to storm the Castle in the dark, Eteocles having to that purpose provided scaling ladders, and faggots to fill the Moat where it was of least depth. No sooner had that faithful Governor seen the Queen appear, with the two Brothers of Caesario, but he imagined what was to be done, as conceiving by the posture they were in, and that of the people following them, that all was desperate as to the safety of Caesario, and that they must be forced to the extremities on which they had resolved, though the time was not so favourable as that which they had appointed.  
The Queen having confirmed him in that judgement by the few words she said coming up to him, he commanded the Ethiopians out of the houses where he had lodged; and considering that the success of his enterprise consisted in expedition, and that the Castle was to be forced, before the Praetorian bands, which were quartered in the Suburbs and about Alexandria, could be gotten together to relieve it, unless the whole City should take up arms for them, which he durst not presume, he immediately caused to advance both those that had any arms, and those who carried the Faggots and Ladders. The two Princes having in few words encouraged them, led them on, and could not hinder the courageous Queen from marching with them, telling them, She scorned to be safe if they miscarried, and that she would rather die then fall again into the hands of Caesar. The three hundred Ethiopians were well armed, and marched in very good order, followed as well by those who were come in to the Queen, as those whom Eteocles had gained, which were above five hundred Citizens in arms, of whom she had employed two hundred to carry the Faggots and Ladders. Their forces increased through a report that was spread about the City, that the children of Queen Cleopatra were to be put to death: and the two Princes with the Queen were gotten into the head of above eight hundred men, and advancing towards the Castle, when passing through a spacious place they discovered a party of Soldiers about a Chariot; upon which the Queen having asked a man that came before bitterly weeping, and whose countenance she imagined she knew, who those persons were whom she saw appear; the man, who was Briton, the faithful Governor of Pompey's Son, told her they were carrying the valiant Artaban, by Order from the Emperor, to the old Castle. The Queen was not a little glad at the accident, and turning to Alexander, We have (said she to him) the happiest opportunity in the world, both to rescue so great a man, and to make advantage of his assistance, which we are to prefer before that of a Legion.  
The suddenness of the occasion permitted no long discourse; so that Alexander approving the Queen's design, sent away Ptolomey and Eteocles with half their forces towards the Castle to cast in the Faggots and fill up the Moat, and with the rest advanced to the relief of Artaban. Those who guarded him grew pale at the sight of that relief, and Alexander had no sooner set upon the Guard, but Varus who was in the Chariot with Artaban, leaps out, either to fight with his men, or get away in the disorder, in case he was worsted. Artaban satisfied they fought to rescue him, would needs contribute to his own deliverance, and being no longer kept in by the Guard, who before surrounded the Chariot, and then rather minded their own defence than their Prisoner, leaps out, and having taken away his sword from one of the frighted Soldiers, he made others give him way by the blows he dealt, and forced a passage to those who fought for his rescue. He presently spies Alexander and Briton in the head of them, and perceived at no great distance the gallant Queen with some Ethiopians, who were to guard her person, and thereupon perceiving whom he was obliged to for his liberty, he would never theless in some measure derive it from his own Valour, and so rushing in among his enemies with more terror than an African Lion; by the riddance he made of the most forward, he soon put the rest into disorder. Alexander seconded him with admirable valour, and the Ethiopians who were well armed, and such as Caesariò had drawn out as the most valiant of the Nation, fight with much resolution, their enemies, after a feeble resistance, turned their backs and sought their safety out of the engagement. Geminius received a great wound from the hand of Artaban, and Varus made a shift to escape in the tumult. However Artaban might be incensed, he thought not fit to pursue the defeated, but making his acknowledgements to the Queen and Prince Alexander for their Assistances, he in few words understood from them what necessity there was that the Castle should be forced, to save the lives of Caesario and Coriolanus. It was no small satisfaction to Artaban so suddenly to meet with an opportunity to render the Queen what he ought her, so that inflaming himself into a fresh fierceness upon so noble an occasion, Let's go, Alexander (said he to the Prince) let's go, and either die or relieve these two gallant Princes, there cannot be an adventure more glorious or more worthy our courage.  
With those words, having upon the entreaties of Alexander taken the command upon him, assigned a Guard about the Queen's person, who would not by any means leave them, and covered his head and arms with the Casque and buckler of an Ethiopian that had been killed, he marched to the Castle with as much confidence as if he had been certain not to meet with any resistance. Those who folloed him deriving courage from their Leader, made the streets ring with the name of Artaban; upon which divers Alexandrians, whom fear deterred from expressing themselves, reassuming new courage from the reputation of such a Chief, made a considerable supply to the forces they already had. By that time Artaban and Alexander were come to the Castle, Ptolemy and Eteocles had cast in abundance of Faggots into the Moat, and very fortunately got to the gate, when Sempronius, Petronius, and Aquilius were come to execute the cruel order of the Emperor. Eteocles, who knew Aquilius to be the same person who had discovered and taken Cesario, furiously runs upon him, and before he could retreat runs him through the body. Ptolemy gave Sempronius such a blow over the head as divided it into two pieces; and the frighted Petronius, with those that followed him, saved themselves by flight.  
After this execution Ptolemy and Eteocles pursued their filling up the Moat with Faggots, and they had almost done their work when Artaban and Alexander with their forces appeared upon the Counterscarp: Eteocles, to whom the valour of Artaban was known, no sooner perceived him, but animating his men with a great shout, he put them on in such a manner, that in a short time they had made one place in the Moat which was half filled with old ruins, fit to plant the Ladders in. Augustus' fearing nothing less than such an accident, had put but few into the Castle, so that Levinus, extremely surprised at the suddenness of the assault, having left about the Princes such as were necessary to guard them, and hinder them from doing aught in order to their own liberty, found the number remaining too weak to make good the walls. However he led them on very resolutely to the place where the assault was made, and no doubt but he might have maintained it, and have been the loss of a great number of enemies, if Artaban, well read in the stratagems of war, had not caused false assaults to be made at two other places, by that means to divide the resistance; so that having weakened that part where he really intended to storm, and knowing that all the happiness of his enterprise consisted in a vigorous and diligent prosecution of it, and that all would be lost if it were not suddenly put in execution, he leaps into the Moat, notwithstanding the Darts cast at him, and his, by Levinus' men, and after he had lifted up his majestic and menacing countenance towards the Battlements, he took a long and heavy Ladder, and carrying it by main strength, though it might have wearied several men, planted it against the wall. Levinus, who knew him, frighted thereat, was not sensible, as he thought to have been, of the reputation he might have gained by descending those walls against such a Master in the Art of War.  
Mean time Augustus had several times received an account of what passed, and had been so surprised thereat, that he was not able readily to bethink him what course was to be taken to prevent the further progress thereof. He had in the first place understood how the Queen of Ethiopia got out of the Palace, and had notice of it just as he was sending to her Lodgings to secure her; than it was told him, how with Alexander and Ptolomey she had persuaded some of the Citizens of Alexandria to an insurrection; and lastly, how with the assistance of her Ethiopians, she had rescued Artaban out of the hands of his guards, and marched with him and the sons of Cleopatra towards the Castle. These tidings put him into such a fury as made him do many things misbecoming his dignity; and though he was satisfied that the worst could happen was the delivery of the Princes he would put to death, yet was he infinitely troubled thereat. What (cries he) in one of my Cities, at a time when all is in absolute peace, a Woman and one man, and he a Prisoner, shall arm my people against me, and defy a power that hath subdued the Universe!  
But what stung him most in this adventure, was, that being a deep peace, he had brought with him to Alexandria only those forces which usually attended his Person, which were the Praetorian Bands and some Horse. They were indeed sufficient to deal with more powerful enemies than those who were then in arms, but would have been too weak to reduce the City of Alexandria in case there should have been a general rising for the children of Cieopatra. Besides, though Augustus had done great things, yet had they been performed for the most part by his lieutenants; and he sound himself then deprived of the assistances of the most valiant among them, by reason of Agrippa's being sick, and Tiberius wounded. Add to this, that from the presence of so many Princes as then were in his Court, he derived more confusion than advantage; and knowing there were few among them who disapproved not his proceedings, he durst neither hope nor indeed desire any assistance from them in that emergency.  
Having bestowed some time in these considerations, and afterwards learned by the return of Petronius that Sempronius and Aquilius had been killed, and that Artaban was storming the Castle, he issued out Archers to prevent that accident, sent Officers to get together, and bring to the Palace the Praetorian Bands that were lodged in the Suburbs, and others to call in the Cavalry that was quartered up and down the next Villages; and at the same time sent several persons of the most considerable of those that were about him, into the several quarters of the City to keep the principle inhabitants from rising, and reduce the rest to their duty either by entreaties or menaces. He would have gone abroad to that purpose himself, but those about him would not suffer it, but represented to him, That out of a consideration of his dignity, he should not hazard himself among an exasperated populance; That when he should be in a condition to reduce it, and the Cohorts were come, he might go in the head of them to order all things with less danger and better success.  
He complied with this advice, dissembling out of prudence, some part of his fury, and the other passions that struggled within him, though he had withal the affliction to see that the greatest part of the Princes and illustrions persons, Romans that were in Alexandria, seemed to side with him, but such as were strangers extremely indifferent, not expressing the least desire of acquiring glory upon that occasion, as no doubt they would have been earnest to do upon any other. The King of Media, being an enemy to Artaban, proffered his service in any thing he should desire; and the Kings of Pontus and Comagine, who had received their Crowns from him, though virtuous Princes, seemed to comply with his desires, though not without some repugnance. But the King of Armenia, the Prince of Cilicia and King of Cappadocia had freely told him that they would sight and die in his service, if need were▪ either against the seditious multitude, or any other enemies might rise against him, but entreated him not to make them instruments in the execution of Princes, whose Virtue had raised a love, and whose destiny a compassion in them, such as they should defend against any but himself to the last drop of blood. But King Alcamenes in stead of coming in to him, was gone to the Queen of Partha's Lodgings, whence he had sent him word, That it was a great affliction to him he had not been able, with all his entreaties, to divert him from the resolution he had taken, to destroy Princes who were worthy the love and respect of all the world, and that it was as much greater to him that he was not in a condition to relieve them. Augustus had yet this further dissatisfaction, to see, that even among the Romans, the most considerable, such as Domitius, a servant to one of Cleopatra's sisters, Crassus and Lentulus, particular friends to the house of Anthony, could not serve him upon that occasion, nor he well trust them. Notwithstanding his displeasure he had dissembled some of his sentiments, and discovered others with fierceness enough, and in the mean time had given order Agrippa should know nothing of what had passed, as well in regard of the affliction it would be to him, such as might haply add to his sickness, as out of a fear he might oppose his intentions; and having at last news brought him that the Troops were entering the City, and that the Inhabitants, those only excepted who had taken up Arms at the first, and made no considerable number, were not any way inclined to rise, though troubled at the misfortune of their Princes, he prepared to march against his enemies, with a design to cut them in pieces without any resistance, which he might with some probability hope from the Coharts, being about ten or twelve thousand men.  
In the mean time the Castle had been stormed with a miraculous eagerness, and Artaban getting first upon the Ladder he had planted, had seen the Brothers of Cleopatra by a generous emulation following his example, and coming up at no great distance from him upon Ladders which they had planted with a resolution little inferior to his. Queen Candace, who from the windows of one of the next houses, where the Prince had disposed of her, looked on that terrible assault, animated her Ethiopians as much as lay in her power, and was many times frighted at the danger which such gallant men were exposed to in so hazardous a kind of engagement. The prisoners had not the same advantage, their Chambers being so as they had not the sight of that action, though they heard the noise of fight, and Marcellus had been acquainted by the Guards with the cause of it. Oh how did the Princess Cleopatra make her servant addresses to Heaven on the behalf of those valiant persons who fought for the safety of Coriolanus! and how delightful did she entertain some hopes of a life that was so dear to her! Marcellus and Drusus unresolved what they should do upon that occasion, joined their vows to those of Cleopatra; and the Prince of Mauritania seemed the most undisturbed and most unconcerned of any. In another Chamber was the son of Caesar, not knowing what he should either fear or hope, but expecting the issue of it, with the same courage he had expressed in all the actions of his life.  
Artaban notwithstanding the darts and stones showered down upon him, being at last gotten up to the top of the Ladder, was taking hold with his left hand of one of the Battlements, when Levinus running to the place where he saw him appear, as that where his resistance was most necessary, gave him a blow over the head, which no doubt had forced him into the Moat, had he not fastened to the Battlement he had taken hold of, and would have seconded it, if the valiant Son of Pompey, whom the former blow had not much disordered, had not prevented him by one of his own, which coming from a more powerful arm, forced him to fall among his men deeply wounded. This performed, Artaban getting up upon the wall, reached his hand to young Ptolomey who was not far from him; and not long after Alexander was also gotten up. Eteocles, Briton, and the Ethiopians followed them with much courage and less difficulty; and Artaban and the two Sons of Anthony were hardly gotten upon the wall, but Levinus' Soldiers left him in disorder, discouraged both by the presence of such enemies, and the fall of their chief Commander. The Princes would not suffer those frighted wretches to be put to death, though they had much ado to keep in the furious Ethiopians from falling upon them, and only commanded them to lay down their arms, open the Castle gate, and let down the Drawbridge to let in Queen Candace, and the rest of the Ethiopians, with those others of their party that should be desirous to come in, not doubting but that Cesar would soon either bring or send forces against them, and that those who were found without, would be cut to pieces. The gate was opened, at which entered first Queen Candace, and after her the rest of the Ethiopians, and the Citizens who had taken up arms (who were not above three hundred men, the rest having either been killed in the assault or run away: As soon as all were got in, and that Levinus' Soldiers were sent out of the Castle, Ptolomey, with Briton and Eteocles placed Soldiers for the defence of the place as they thought requisite, expecting to be soon set upon; and in the interim the fair Queen, conducted by Artaban and Alexander, went to find out her Caesario. She took not the pains to go up to his Chamber, for those who guarded the Princes, seeing the Castle forced, had cast themselves at their feet, and begged their lives by bringing them the tidings of their liberty; so that the Queen and Artaban met them altogether at the Stair-foot, coming towards their valiant deliverers. Candace no sooner cast her eye on Cesario, but the violence of her affection forcing her to neglect the civilities might be due to the rest, she runs to him with her arms spread, and embracing him just as he would have cast him at her feet, bathed his countenance with tears which love and grief forced from her. Their mutual transportation was such as for a while tied up their tongues, insomuch, that before they had the time to speak, Candace found herself in the embraces of Cleopatra, who by the earnestness of her caresses assured her of the greatness of her affection. The Queen returned her the like, and both discovered upon that occasion, that their friendship was as solid as if it had been of many years' continuance, Ah, Madam (says the Son of Cesar to the Queen) is it then to you that we are obliged for our lives? and is it you who, to the shame of our Sex, have executed so great an enterprise? It's not to me (replies the Queen) but to the great Artaban that you are obliged, and to your two brothers who have generously seconded him.  
With those words she presented Artaban to him, and the two Sons of Anthony, while Cleopatra presented to her the King of Mauritania. Cesario runs to Artaban; with his arms spread; and the son of Pompey, who knew himself to be of a birth equal to his, received his caresses with more equality then at other times, though not guilty of ever the more pride. Is it thus then (says the son of Cesar to him) that you treat your ancient enemies, and add the obligations of life to the admiration we had for your Virtue? I was your enemy (replies Artaban) upon an account I understood not, and which now, that I do, cannot produce so unjust an effect in me; and I should think it a great happiness if I could by any service force it out of your memory.  
While Caesario replied with the same civility and much acknowledgement, and afterwards was embracing his two brothers, and expressing the resentment he had of their assistances; Candace, whom Coriolamus had saluted, looked on his person with admiration, and would have given the Prince occasion to look on her beauty with some astonishment, if all those in the world remitted not somewhat of their lustre, when near that of Cleopatra. After she had received from him all the expressions he could give her of a submissive respect, and discovered to him her own sentiments, with the greatest civility possible, knowing that Cesario and he had not seen one the other during their restraint, how much soever they both might have desired it, she would not any longer delay their being known one to another. The two Princes made their acquaintance with equal earnestness, & were equally surprised at the advantages they observed in one another's persons, What (says the King of Mauritania) I have at last the happiness to see that illustrious brother of my Princess! and I am no longer (added Cesario at the same time) kept from the embraces of that famous Lover of my sister, whose reputation is so noble. They had given greater expressions of the esteem and friendsip they mutually conceived one for the other, had they not reflected on what they ought both to the assiatance and person of the great Artaban. Coriolanus had seen him armed, and understood at Tiridates' house the initials of his adventures, under the name of Britomarus but had since learned that he was that famous Artaban whose fame had filled the Universe, and who had been acknowledged a Prince descended from Arsaces, & designed for the Crown of Parthia; so that seeing him engaged in that occasion, & looking on him as the valiant defender on his life, to assure him both of his resentment and esteem, he did all could be expected from the most generous and most acknowledging person in the world. Artaban answered to both, the most nobly imaginable, & thereupon the three Princes looked on one the other with equal admiration, and certainly it was with much justice, all the earth being not able to afford anything worthy it so much, though fortune might have been more favourable to some others, either of their time or before it Alexander and Ptolomey received from the Lover of their Sister what he ought, the blood of Cleopatra, excellency of their persons, and the service they had done him. These civilities passed, Marcellus and Drusus, who would not interrupt the first Rallies of Love and Friendship, coming up to them, received from that illustrious company what with reason they could not deny them; and besides what might be due not only to a Nephew of Caesar, and Son of Livia, but to two Princes of admirable virtu, there was so much gallantry in their late action, & it was so highly celebrated by the grateful son of Juba, that all those great persons looked on them with love & veneration, & by a certain emulation gave their generosity the commendations due thereto. In all probability the meeting of so many extraordinary persons, and upon so rare an occasion, might oblige them to a longer conversation; but they had not the leisure, and they were but beginning to express themselves one to another, when Eteocles (whom Cesario had received not as his Governor but his Father) came to give them notice that there some forces in sight, which in all appearance would assault the place. This discourse raised a joy in so many valiant men instead of affrighting them, & that Martial heat which was predominant in them above all other passions, was inflamed into itsgreatest fierceness. Coriolanus having been taken armed his arms were in the castle, whither Emilius had also brought the head-piece he had cast a way when he fought with Tiberius. Those who had taken Caesario had brought thither his sumptuous arms also, and delivered them to Levinus, and had been found in the castle by his Squire; Artaban and the two sons of Anthony had not any; but there were in the castle not only for them, but a considerable number of men, nay some of that magnificence that they had served the Kings of Egypt, and put Alexander and Ptolomey in mind of their predecessors. The Princes made choice of those that were most fit for them, & distributed among the Soldiers as they stood in need of. There was a great number of darts; for being the fortres of Alexandria, it was also the Magazine of arms. The Princes desirous to shift off the command to one another, yet being all forced it, by the refusal which every one made of it, put allthings in order with a miraculoes diligence; & having a greater number of men than was requisite for the defence of the castle. they employed some part to maintain a dead wall which might have been assaulted, and kept the rest to relieve them, or to be commanded as occasion should require. Marcellus and Drusus were forced, upon the entreaties of Coriolanus & Cleopatra, not to engage that day, it being not just they should appear in arms before Cesar, who was coming against them, and upon walls where there was no employment for their valour, though they might with reason have done it: so that with Cleopatra and Candace they retired into the dungeon, to those Lodging where Cleopatra had passed away the night, though with a certain shame and confusion; and having sent to find out Levinus, who was not dead, notwithstanding the wound he had received from Artaban, they caused him to be brought into a chamber to receive the assistances he was capable of.  
Mean time, the other Princes were no sooner upon the walls, but they were set upon of all sides, and the Emperor in the head of the Pretorians, a body of above ten thusand men, and having about him the Kings of Media, Pontus and Comagenes, Petronius, Pleminius, Vellus, Fulvius, Messalla, Flaccus, Cinna, Cepio, Varus, Norbanus, and divers other illustrious Romans was giving out his orders, and caused the assault to be carried on in his presence, with a violence proportionable to that of his indignation. The Faggots and Ladders which the besieged had brought, and were still in the Moat against the walls, were employed against them; but Cesar caused to be brought from other places great numbers, as he well might, the City being quiet, and the inhabitants little inclined to follow their example whom the sight of Candace and the two sons of Cleopatra had drawn into their party.  
The old Castle, seated at the extremity of the City, was on one side beaten by the waves of the Mediterranean Sea, and on the other encompassed with a dry Moat, which the walls that had been built about it had filled in many places, through the negligence of the Governors, who forbore the repairing of those ruins by reason of the little necessity there was of it in the time of peace; so that from the Counterscarp it was easy to get down into the Moat at at any place, and accordingly neither the former assailants nor the latter had been much troubled to get in there. But Augustus causing it to be filled up almost in all places, through the great number employed about it, found it no hard matter to plant against the walls such a great number of Ladders, that there was hardly any distance between them; and notwithstanding the darts that were showered upon them of all sides, there were many still getting up, whereof some were beaten off the first rounds, others miscarried in the midst of their enterprise, and those who held out till they came to the Battlements ventured to certain death, eifrom the hands of their enemies, or by a fall so much the more dangerous the higher the place was where they fell: but the number of the assailants being two great for the small place they stormed at which was but half the circuit of the Castle, the other being compassed by the Sea; the number of the dead and those that were beaten down was immediately supplied by those that were put into their places, and the assault was carried on without any intermission, and with an earnestness that cost many men their lives, and such as might have raised horror and pity in persons who should without passion have looked on that spectacle. The Princes walked along the wall between the Bulwarks, and having their eyes in all places, ran where their assistance was requisite, dealing terrible blows on those who made a shift to get up to the top of the Ladders, and tumbling them upon their companions with honourable wounds about them, And indeed that was the greatest satisfaction those unfortunate wretches had, whom Augustus sacrificed to his pleasure, and among them some persons of quality of the Romans, such as Flavius, Elius, Petus, Calvisius and Rutilius, having with much courage got up to the Battlements, had the glory to lose their lives by the hands of Caesario, Artaban and the King of Mauritania.  
Augustus, whom fury and the resentment of the affront he that day received more confident then in other engagements where he had been in person, animated his men, from a place where he was not secure from the enemy's darts, and appeared upon a little place which was before the Castle, whence by several streets that abutted thereon, he caused his force to advance as necessity required, but such as by reason of the straitness of it admitted not the engagement of any considerable number, if Caesar should be obliged thereto. Coriolanus and Caesario took notice of him in that posture, & were upon thoughts of the same design, though with different intentions. The son of Caesar exasperated against him who had that day, though no way injured, passed the sentence of death upon him, was extremely desirous, if possible, to revenge the injury upon the author of it, and could not look on him in the condition he was in without being transported with fury, and thinking of some attempt upon his life; and the son of Juba impatient to continue in a place where he could not sufficiently exercise his valour, and considering that though they kept off the enemy, they must starve for want of provisions, if they found not some means to open their passage, & force the besiegers further from their gates and works, if it were possible, there being not, either in the place that was, or any other that might be assaulted, occasion to employ half their men, he resolved to make a sally; & having communicated his design no Artaban & Caesario, & satisfied them of the importance & necessity thereof: Cesario would go with him, followed by young Ptolomey; and Artaban upon their entreaties continued in the Castle, where the presence of one of those great persons was necessary, Alexander staying with him. So that with three hundred men whereof one half were Aethiopians, the other Egyptians, well armed, and animated by example and the despair of pardon, they went out of the gate, caused the Bridge to be let down, and marched out as thick as the place would permit. Ptolomey with fifty men advanced as far as the end of the stone Bridg, which from the Counterscarp reached to the midst of the Moat, to keep the passage free for the return of his companions; and the undaunted Prince of Mauritania, and the valiant son of Cesar went into the Moat with the rest of their men, who by great shouts sent terror to those places where they were soon after to be the messengers of death. The two Princes were in their sumptuous armour, but being to fight on foot, they made use only of the Casque, the Cuirats and the Buckler, and with greater freedom of the arm than if it had been loaden with iron, they plied their enemies with the dazzling and mortal sword. If the number of their men was small, the place where they were to fight was accordingly not very spacious, and the valour of the two Chiefs might well be reckoned for a considerable party.  
The Romans, on the other side, were so surprised at this unexpected tempest, that they could hardly put themselves into a posture to make any resistance; and by that time they were set upon, all was in disorder, blood and death among them. Never had the terrible African Prince, nor the undaunted son of Cleopatra been animated by a fury comparable to that which made them fight that day, nor ever with their own hands spilt so much blood upon any one occasion. Nay, they seemed in some measure to have lost their compassionate inclinations, especially the son of Caesar, who with a certain satisfaction sacrificed the Soldiers of Augustus to his just resentment. The Ethiopians and Egyptians seconded them with much valour, and running into the Moat with a miraculous eagerness, overturned the ladders with the men that were upon them, so that all they came near perished either by falls, or the inexorable sword, All places were full of blood, and the Princes so covered therewith, that they could not be discerned from others, but by their irresistible blows that fell from them. Artaban, who looked on them from the Rampart, would have envied the glory they acquired by such transcendent effects of valour, had he not by so many memorable actions already raised himself to a fame noble enough. However, even from the place where he was he did them considerable service; and perceiving that Caesar constantly supplied the Moat with fresh men, to relieve those who were either dead or run away, and that his own had no further work with those who before scaled the Ladders, he ordered them to be perpetually casting at the Counterscarp, and by showers of darts hindering the enemy's access to the Moat, he facilitated the victory of his two illustrious Friends.  
Nor was young Ptolomey without employment, or occasion to exercise his valour; for Caesar, desirous to prevent the return of his enemies, caused the young Prince to be assaulted upon the bridge he was to keep, and gave him occasion to do things so noble, that if the two other Princes had that day in some measure outvy'd whatever was celebrated as most dreadful by Antiquity, he raissd in those who saw him an apprehension little different from that of the famous Roman, whose maintaining of a Bridge against the armies of Hetruria, made his name known all over the world. The small number of men assigned him were enough for the defence of the place he was to keep, and he would have wanted room to employ any more. They were weary of assaulting him by reason of the danger they were exposed to; & he had half lifted up the visor of his Casque, to take a little air after the pains he had been at, when a man sumptuously armed, tall, and of a fierce deportment, advances towards him, with his sword in the right hand, and his left covered with a Buckler. Ptolomey seeing him coming on, goes towards him, and gave him a hearty blow, which he received upon his Buckler. The young Prince vexed he had spent his blow in vain, was lifting up his arm to second it, when the unknown person retreating, Hold Ptolomey (said he to him) and be not the death of thy Brother, who comes to suffer it from the hands of thy enemies, and not from thine. And with those words lifting up the visor of his head piece, he discovered himself to be Julius Antonius, and thereupon going over to him he turned against his enemies, and set himself in a posture of fight.  
In the mean time Coriolanus and Caesario had no more enemies to deal withal in the Moat, death or flight having not left them any thing to employ their valour upon; all the Ladders were pulled down, and most broken, and among the faggots, stones and other things wherewith the Moat had been filled, might be seen streams of blood and heaps of carcases, enough to raise horror and compassion. The two Princes finding themselves still followed by the best part of their men, pursued the defeated out of the Moat up to the Counterscarp, with a design to gain a quarter near the castle known to Caesario, whereby they would have had a free passage to the Sea to embark their illustrious company in the Ethiopian ships; and having put the Romans to the rout, Victory attended them upon the Counterscarp as it had done in the Trench, and with the points of their swords they made their way so as to get to the place where Augustus was encouraging his men to fight, and which he durst not quit though he perceived them coming on, whether out of the shame he conceived it to give way to so small a number, or the confidence he had in the multitude of his own. He was calling them from all sides to his relief, and sending orders to make them advance who were at some distance, when Caesario, from a little eminency where he stood, observing him among his people, and upon that sight feeling the indignation he had against the usurper of his fortunes, and persecuter of his life, heightened in him, he breaks towards the place where he was, with a fury which nothing was able to resist, and making his sword his guide through the frighted enemy, he made a shift to come up to him, before Augustus, whom his own people forsook, and who was in some disorder upon that unforeseen danger, could think of a retreat, till it was too late. Tigranes had been laid along on the ground by a blow he had received from the hand of Coriolanus; Mithridates was employed elsewhere with the chiefest of the Romans, who were advancing supplies; and Polemon having been knocked down by Caesario, Augustus stood fairly before him, deprived of the relief of so many men, whom fear or other employments had forced to some distance from him. The furious son of Caesar runs to him with his sword lifted up, and to execute many revenges at once, was going to let it fall on him with a force and weight that would have crushed whatever it had met with, when the dreadful blow was received by a strange buckler, held out by an arm from which he had little feared that opposition, or Augustus hoped that assistance. Caesario turning to him who had pervented his revenge, knew him to be the King of Mauritania, who setting himself further between them, Hold, Caesar's son (said he to him) and if thou wilt not spare thy Father's blood, spare the father of Marcellus who is to die with thee.  
Though the examples of Virtue were familiar to the son of Cleopatra, yet he was surprised at this; and smothering his resentment to comply with the generosity of his Friend, and the respect he had for Marcellus, he turned his sword another way, sighing, while Caesar, whom the sight of that danger had extremely frighted, made a shift to get among his own people, after he had well observed the action, though he knew not, the persons, nor had distinctly heard the words of Coriolanus.  
The Princes were upon thoughts of prosecuting their design, when at two corners of the place whereof they were already become masters, they perceived two great bodies advancing, led by Petronius and Licinius, and the Emperor, recovered out of his fright, in the the head of them, more terrible than before. That sight convinced them it was impossible to maintain the place any longer, so that having called to their men to make towards the Bridge, they came on last themselves, and had no more time than needed, Petronius and Licinius making all the hast they could after them. Caesar saw in the Rear of his retreating enemies those two men, whereof one had put him to such a fright, and the other so generously relieved him, who ever and anon facing about, to facilitate the retreat of their men, were no small terror to those who pursued them; and it's not impossible but that sight raising in him a reflection on the danger he had been in, he conceived either a certain amazement or respect, which hindered him from pursuing them with that violence which he had expressed at the beginning of the engagement. In fine, the Princes got up their men, and setting foot last on the Draw-bridg, they caused it to be raised upon them, and went into the Castle, leaving Augustus and his men no less astonished at their admirable valour, then troubled at the loss they had received.  
Augustus was extremely troubled to see his men dead and dying in the Moat, the Ladders broken, and how they had been beaten off the second assault; and was much perplexed in his thoughts what resolution he should take to be suddenly revenged for the injuries he received, when Petronius coming up to him, My Lord (said he to him) what are you so much troubled at, and what affliction do you put yourself to for the reduction of enemies who must to morrow fall into your hands without so much as the loss of a man? I must pity those you have without any necessity already lost, and no doubt it was your fury that blinded you, so that you considered not what you did. Here are some (continued he, showing him those soldiers of Levinus who were come out of the Castle, who can tell you that in the Castle there are not provisions for the great number now in it not for the remainder of this day; and that Lev inus, who furnished himself every day from the City, and was not prepared for a siege, had not made any provision. Let your enemies be blocked up on all sides, so as it may be impossible for them to escape, and let hunger do the rest, a more cruel enemy than those you would employ against them.  
Augustus much liked the advice of Petronius, and wondered the impetuosity of his fury should so far blind him as to put him upon reducing that by force which he might have had with so much ease. 'Tis true, he considered that Marcellus would be exposed to hunger as well as the rest, but saw he would be no less to the other dangers; that he should find some means to deliver him from, by the authority of Octavia and love of Juiia, which he would employ to that purpose; and what ever might be the issue of it, his resentments' overmastered all considerations of friendship, and made him resolve rather to lose what he loved, if necessity would have it so, then pardon what he hated, and that so much the more by reason of the late affront he had received.  
Having thus resolved he set all things in order for the execution, and caused all the avenues of the Castle to be blocked up with strong guards, assigning a considerable number of men for every place lest they should be forced; and desirous to besiege it also by Sea, he drew out of the Port all the ships of War, and disposed them in the channel about the Castle at such distances as deprived the besieged of all manner of communication, and all hope of relief. Having taken this order, with more judgement than he had expressed all the day before, he was more calm than he had been, and having left the command towards the City to Petronius and Licinius, and towards the Sea to Fulvius, he retired to the Palace, to rest himself after the trouble he had been in.  
He was no sooner come thither, but he had all the Princesses at his feet; Octavia and Julia demanded Marcellus; Agrippina and Antonia with Marcellus desired of him the children of Anthony their Brothers; and if Antonia durst not openly desire Drusus, yet might it be seen, that all her wishes were not for her Brothers, Artemisa solicited for Alexander, Marcia for Ptolomey, and except Livia, who what affection soever she might have for Drusus, seemed only to mind the interests of the Emperor, there were few Princesses and Ladies of quality in Augustus' Court who mediated not for the Illustrious besieged. Elisa and the Queen her mother, whom the late adventures of Artaban had put into new troubles for him, entreated not the Emperor as to him, imagining such entreaties fruitless, and it below their dignity to become Petitioners to a person who behaved himself with so much insolence towards them, but sought out other ways to get him into their power then by submissions, yet all proved ineffectual; and besides that the Emperor's sentiment was such as made all supplications fruitless, he had answers specious enough to rid himself of those who besought him on the behalf of Coriolanus or Cesario. Why do you solicit me for Marcellus (said he to Octavia) have you observed he was less dear to me than to yourself? and do you imagine that if he perishes ungrateful as he is, my grief will be less than yours? Use your solicitation rather to him to get him out of the danger into which he hath wilfully cast himself, and assure yourself, that, notwithstanding his ingratitude I shall spread my arms to him as my son when ever he shall return to us. He said the same thing in a manner to those who spoke for the sons of Anthony, especially for Julius Antonius, who being, as he said, infinitely obliged to him had that day in the heat of the engagement forsook his party to cast himself into that of the enemy.  
Having thus shuffled off the persons that most importuned him, he withdrew, but with such a resentment against all the Kings, Princes, and others among the Romans who had not followed him that day, that he would not see any one of them, though he saw that Ariobarzanes and Philadelph upon the kindness they had received from Artaban, and the alliance they had already engaged themselves in with the children of Anthony, as also Archelaus, Domitius, Crassus, Lentulus, and some others, either upon that consideration or that of an ancient friendship there was between them and the house of Anthony, had much reason to be excused. For the King of Scythia, he quarrelled much at his proceeding, but knew not how to behave himself towards him, thinking it on the one side very strange and not to be endured, that in his own Court he should declare for his enemies; and on the other, not conceiving that any reason should incline him to give any discontent to one of the greatest Kings in the world, one that not upon any account obliged thereto, was come to visit him, contrary to all the ordinary Ceremonies used by Monarches who had no dependence on the Empire, and who otherwise was such, both for the vastness of his Territories, and the greatness of his person, as was not to be injured without thoughts of a War, whereof the event might prove uncertain, especially if his Forces should be joined to those of the Parthians, as it might happen through the friendship which that King had contracted with Artaban, and the Queen and Princess of Parthia: That which gravelled him most in these intricate conjunctures was, that Agrippa, whose arm and advice were his surest refuge, not only was not in a capacity to serve him either in the one kind or in the other, but was not to be acquainted with what passed, out of a fear that if he were he might disapprove of it, and oppose it with all the interest he had in him. Maecenas gave him that advice which his virtue inspired him with, and consequently not much consonant to the intentions which Caesar was then in; but he wanted the courage and authority of Agrippa to press it home. Augustus had indeed taken particular notice of what Coriolanus had done on his behalf, but had attributed it to Marcellus, as having not in the disorder he was in observed the arms of Juba's son, and being apt to believe that among persons whom he persecuted with so much cruelty there could be only Marcellus that should have that tenderness for his life. He would have admired that action in Coriolanus, could he have believed it done by him, and attributed it to a generosity more than ordinary; but he esteemed it the less in Marcellus, from whom he might have expected greater things, and thought himself less obliged to him for that relief, than he thought he should be incensed against him for the assistance he had afforded his Enemies, fight against his men at a place where he himself was in person: Yet could he not without some terror reflect on the danger he had been in, nor think on the terrible posture of Cesario, without making his acknowledgements to Heaven for the assistance he had received in so great an extremity. He saw only Agrippa that night, and having stayed a short time with him, retired, with thoughts divided between the grief he felt for the injuries he conceived done him, and the joy he imagined to himself from a revenge which nothing should be able to divert.  
In the mean time the Princes were gotten into the Castle, where they had been received not only by their valiant Companions, but their beloved Princesses, who with the joy they conceived to see them escape so great a danger, went to meet them with Marcellus and Drusus. Cleopatra and Candace said to their Lovers, whatever an affection they had for them, they would no longer smother, though they took ill their exposing of themselves to such imminent danger, and hazarding their lives so unadvisedly upon an account so different from that of so many noble victories as they had gained. The two Princes excused themselves upon the necessity that forced them thereto; but after Cleopatra had entertained Coriolanus with her first caresses and discourse, she was a little astonished to find Julius Antonius with him, and to hear from Ptolemy after what manner, and with what generosity he came into their party. Cleopatra kindly embraced him, and after she had assured him of all the affection which out of respects of blood, the knowledge of his worth, and upon that last obligation; she might conceive for him; Ah Brother, (said she to him) why come you to aggravate our grief by augmenting the number of those that are to die? and why will you put a period to the house of Anthony, when all the hopes of its countenance are only in you? Those persons who are so ready to die, (replies Antonius) are so illustrious for their quality, that there is more glory than danger to participate of their fortunes; and you have conceived a very bad opinion of me, if you thought that as things stand now, I had any other resolution to take then that of endeavouring to serve you and my Brothers.  
With those words he embraced Alexander, who received him into his arms, and whose expostulation with him was much like that of Cleopatra. Marcellus and Drusus, though troubled at his coming to share in the glory which they only might hope from their generosity, embracing him with much affection: Cesario looked on him not only as a Brother to his Brethren, but as his own; and Artaban considered him as a Prince as worthy his esteem and friendship, as he was of the blood he was descended of, and the name he bore. But the King of Mauritania seeing in him that Brother of Cleopatra lost for so many years, whom he had loved as the worthy Brother of his Princess, and by whom he had been so gallantly seconded against those who would have carried her away, the day he had fought with Tiberius, and fallen into the hands of Augustus, thought himself obliged more particularly than all others to assure him of his affection and resentment, and was not wanting to acquit himself thereof, though it troubled him above any to see so many persons that were dear to him cast themselves into a misfortune, which he conceived none should be engaged in but himself.  
Having taken all necessary order for the defence of the Castle, the two Princesses would have the Princes put off their armour to take a little rest, which in obedience to their commands they did, and went all together with them to the chamber where they had stayed during the assault. There it was that Cesario took occasion to acquaint that Illustrious company with what Coriolanus had done for the rescue of Augustus, and that craving Marcellus' pardon for the intention he had to be the death of his Uncle, he represented to him the new obligation put upon him by his Friend. All present admired the action of the King of Mauritania, and the son of Octavia embracing him with a transportation greater than what proceeds from friendship; It is certainly your design (said he to him) that this single action should eclipse all the demonstrations I can give you of my friendship, and reduce me to a condition to die ungrateful though I die with you. O ye Gods! (continued he) is it possible such an exemplary virtue should find persecutors and enemies among men? Ah friends, (added he) but the truest that ever was, since that in the heat of fight, and in so just a resentment as that you might conceive against so cruel an enemy, you protect him against the arms of your friends: Oppose not any longer what I would do for you, and only pity my misfortune, which in acknowledgement of such transcendent discoveries of your friendship, permits me not to give you but trivial demonstrations of mine.  
To these words of Marcellus the Assembly added their celebrations of the generosity of Coriolanus; but he was but little sensible thereof at that time, as being extremely cast down at the news brought him, that there were no provisions in the Castle, and that there was hardly to suffice the persons that were in it for the remainder of that day. He saw by this account of their condition that the place was no longer to be maintained by valour, that there was no way but to perish; and that though the Princes might have the constancy to endure hunger to the utmost extremity, the soldiers who had no heroic souls, would not be so satisfied, but the next day, if that misfortune came to their knowledge, deliver both them and the Castle into the hands of Augustus. The reflections he made thereon were as so many thorns in his breast, and knowing it was through his means that those he so dearly loved were all exposed to the same extremity, his constancy, how great soever, could not but give way upon his thoughts of it. Whereupon death presenting itself to his imagination, not such as he had often defied in combats, where it could never daunt him, but under the most horrid shape it could assume, by hazarding the lives of Cleopatra and Marcellus, made him tremble, and put him into a condition much more deplorable than if he had been at that very instant to lay his head down to the cruel Instruments of Augustus' revenge. Cleopatra and Marcellus observing in his countenance the disturbance he was in, would have comforted him; but their presence instead of producing that effect rather aggravated his affliction, nor could he but with eyes o'ercast with a fatal cloudiness look on those beloved persons who so readily embraced death upon his account.  
In the mean time, Cesario, having had the opportunity of some discourse with Artaban, had expressed to him the joy he conceived at his happy acknowledgement of being a Prince descended from Arsaces, assuring him that news had not any way surprised him, and that he had ever considered him as a person so excellent in all things, that he could not be persuaded but he was of noble birth. But the Son of Pompey, who had not, with the discovery of his original, reassumed the unjust aversion which he derived from nature against the son of Julius Caesar, and called to mind that generous confidence of Caesario, upon which the very day they had been reconciled he would have discovered his birth to him in a place where such a discovery might have proved dangerous, he concluded it was not from him he had received Elisa's commands to conceal his own, and that the Princess would not be dissatisfied that he should make that return to the generosity of so great a Prince. To which end, taking him aside to a Window whence they could not be overheard; It is not just, said he to him, I should answer that noble freedom you expressed toward me, by a reservedness which I am commanded to observe towards others; and since you, out of a confidence worthy your courage, would have discovered to me that you were the son of Caesar, I, cut of a like, am to let you know, that I am the Son of Pompey: By this acknowledgement I clear Nature of the aversion she had given me against you, but should not vindicate my own reason, if it had not overcome it, upon my knowledge of your admirable Virtue. I am to tell you further, that, with the discovery of my being Pompey 's son, my love to the son of Caesar hath not only received no remission, but that I should not hate Caesar himself, were he living, since he carried on the War against Pompey for Fame and the Empire, and had no hand in the baseness of Ptolomey, against whom I should turn all revenge, if Caesar himself had not done it. I am accordingly inclined to hope, that you will not hate me for being Son to Pompey, since the misfortunes of Pompey leave not Caesar himself any ground to hate him, and that you are master of too great a Soul to wish those ill who court your friendship.  
Caesario had with much astonishment harkened to the discourse of Pompey's Son; and when he had given over speaking, rejoining thereto with an action wherein might be seen that that discovery wrought no change of sentiments in him; You surprise me not, (said he to him,) by the account you give me of yourself; it was but necessary that a person who can so well abate the insolence of Kings, should be descended from a man who had seen so many Kings at his feet. I am infinitely obliged to you, that after this discovery you will continue your friendship towards me, nay though I am satisfied, that neither Caesar nor Queen Cleopatra had any hand in the last misfortunes of Pompey, and that it is not unlikely Caesar would have been moderate in the advantages of his fortune, if that of Pompey would have permitted it; yet I entertain the proffer you make me of your friendship as a pure effect of your Virtue; and am to assure you, that next to the obligations I have to Candace, there is not any thing I more value. Whereupon embracing one another, upon the new confirmation of their Friendship, Artaban gave Caesario a short account of the particulars of his birth, and the assurances he had of it, as he had received them from Briton.  
By this time, night was drawing on; and the Princes, having caused a distribution to be made of what provisions there were in the Castle, found, much to their grief, there was hardly to afford a light repast for so many persons, and that the next day they must either be miraculously supplied from heaven, or suffer through hunger what they had avoided by the sword. The Princesses and Princes made that poor meal with much constancy, neither Cleopatra nor Candace discovering any thing of weakness upon so strange a misfortune. Coriolanus and Caesario seemed the only persons troubled, as reflecting it was upon their account that their Princesses and Friends were fallen into that extremity; and the grief which seemed to be legible in the countenances of Artaban, Drusus and Alexander proceeded from their remembrances of Elisa, Antonia and Artemisa, rather than the danger that threatened them. Drusus and Alexander discovered so much the less, because they had left their Princess' safe among their Friends, and feared not any thing might happen to them; but Artaban was much in disturbance, and though he were resolved, out of a consideration of honour, to perish with his Friends if he could not avoid it, and had a courage great enough to face death without any trouble, yet could he not reflect that Elisa was in the power of Augustus, and that to be revenged for the injury he had that day received, he might force her to marry Agrippa, without an affliction that proved extremely a torment to him.  
He was upon the rack of those considerations, when Coriolanus and Caesario came to communicate their grief to him, and ask his advice in the extremity they were reduced to, and all the Princes being called to deliberate together what resolution should be taken, it was without any contradiction resolved, that when the night was a little advanced, they should endeavour to force their way through the Guards, and, with the Princesses, and all the men that were in the Castle, endeavour to break through the Enemy on that side which led to the Ethiopian ships; not but that the execution of this enterprise would prove difficult and dangerous, yet was it to be embraced before the death they were assured of in the Castle, being of that kind which was most unworthy their courage. This resolution taken, about an hour after they set things in order for the execution of it, and the Princes having satisfied the soldiery of the necessity there was they should behave themselves gallantly, Coriolanus, Artaban and Caesario led them on, and ordered the two Princesses with their women to come behind, conducted by Marcellus, Drusus, and the three sons of Anthony. That illustrious company, consisting of what was most great in the world, either as to Valour or Beauty, went in that posture out of the Castle, with a courage no less remarkable in the Princesses than the Princes; and the three Chiefs, who had severally commanded so great armies, and were now all reduced to the command of so small a number, fell in with such fury upon a guard placed almost at the end of the bridge, and immediately forced it with such success, that, having cut some to pieces, the rest fled in disorder to the next post, This not only encouraged the soldiers, but put their valiant commanders into some hope; but when, turning their faces towards the sea, they would charge those that kept the passage that way, they found their attempts would prove ineffectual, the ways being made up with barricadoes and great beams, and maintained by above two thousand soldiers, commanded by valiant men. So that having set upon them very desperately, but to little purpose, and perceiving it impossible to get through, and that upon the loss of some of their men, the rest were unwilling to advance upon a design absolutely desperate, they were forced to make what hast they could towards the Castle, having out of a prudent foresight, lest Briton and Eteocles at the end of the Bridge with fifty men, to prevent the enemy from getting into it during the engagement; and accordingly Marcellus, Drusus, and the Sons of Anthony conconducted the Princesses thither, while Artaban, Caesario and Coriolanus made their retreat so as to keep the Enemy in play till they came to the Castle gate, into which they were the last that entered.  
Upon this last act of misfortune was it that grief and exasperation wrought their saddest effects in the two Princes, who saw so many illustrious persons that were dear to them exposed to certain death upon their account. Caesario fell at the feet of Candace, to divert her from the design she had to die with him, and entreated his Brothers to leave him in an extremity wherein he could make no advantage of their generosity. He pressed the same thing to the Great Artaban, putting him in mind of his obligations to Elisa, and representing to him that he should slight all things for the service of that Princess. But the son of Juba was transported in such manner as would have raised compassion in the most insensible hearts; and betraying what might be thought the effects of weakness in him, had he been reduced thereto out of any respect to himself, he endeavoured, both by words and tears, to prevail with those persons in whom the expectation of sudden death produced no such effect, to leave him to his own misfortunes. He lay prostrate at the feet of Cleopatra, washing them with his tears, and with much ado recovering the freedom of speech, if ever (said he to her) Love begat compassion in any soul, and if you would have me, at the period of my life, flatter myself with the glory of having been loved by my Princess, my adored Princess; by that love which I shall inviolably preserve in the other life; by all you acknowledge sacred, and in submission to those Deities whom you have ever reverenced, and now incense by the injustice you do me, force me not to die the most terrible kind of death my Enemies could have invented for me; and think it enough, that after the example of the Queen your Mother, you have satisfied the world how easily you can slight death for his sake whom you love, without exercising to the utmost this strange kind of cruelty upon me. For, in fine, imagine not that when I die, I shall quarrel at Augustus, all he can do is to put me to an ordinary death, a thing I have often defied in occasions hazardous enough, but you would make it such to me by your fatal resolution, as no courage can endure without falling into the worst of despair. Consider, that to the injuries you do me, you add an irreparable offence against Heaven, and that all nature is concerned in your cruelty, when you destroy what the Gods and she had made most beautiful in the Universe; that Heaven, Earth, all Nations, all ages will blame me for the injury I do them, and that thousands such lives as mine ought not to be preserved with the least danger of yours. And thou cruel Friend (added he, turning to Marcellus) thou who consirmest her in this fatal resolution by the cruel example thou gavest her, wert thou not satisfied with the miseries which I should at my death derive from the considerations of my Love, but must aggravate them by the effects of an unfortunate friendship? or is it not to heighten the cruelty of Augustus rather than to assure me of thy friendship, that thou art guilty of this barbarism towards me? Example of inhumanity, what wouldst thou reduce me to? What is there in the loss of this wretched life that can in any degree recompense the world for what I deprive of it, when it is that which was most precious in it? Wouldst thou not give me a dearer and more noble demonstration of thy friendship in diverting Cleopatra from her fatal design, and in living to serve and comfort her in the misfortunes whereto she may be reduced, then in tormenting my eyes just when they are to be closed to eternal darkness, with the delightful spectacle of the death of Cleopatra and Marcellus?  
To these Expostulations the exasperated son of Juba added a many others, which his affliction furnished his tongue withal; but if those to whom he addressed them were moved thereat, it was with something contrary to what he would have had them produce, and that fair Cleopatra looking on him with eyes drier than his own, though not wholly free from tears, Trifle not away, Coriolanus (said she to him) in complaints and fruitless resentments the small remainder of our lives, and if it be any satisfaction to thee to be assured that Cleopatra loves thee, enjoy it to the last gasp without troubling her as thou dost by a torment thou to no purpose inflictest on thyself. Consider, that thou art unjust and cruel to thyself in thy desires; and if thou believest I really love thee, nay, so well as to die with thee, reflect what my life would signify to me after the loss of thine. Or to what wouldst thou expose me, when thou desirest I should continue it after thy death? Shall I live to forget thee? shall I live to marry Tiberius? can that hope comfort thee? or if after thy death I prove constant in the affection I have for thee, shall I live to bewail thy loss to my grave? or dost thou think that condition happier for me than the death I would suffer with thee? Consider, Coriolanus, that grief distracts thee, and that thou canst not desire I should survive thee without doing me an injury in imagining me either capable of comfort, or that I can forget thee, or, which is worse, make me too unfortunate by condemning me to eternal degrees. Forbear therefore to press me any further, who, with the consent of my Brothers that hear us, have not given thee the name of Husband but with a resolution never to forsake thee: but endeavour to prevail with Marcellus, whose fortunes should be happy, if with time he may overcome the grief he may conceive at the loss of his Friend. He hath not the same reasons which I have to allege to thee, and hath no doubt those obligations to Julia which I have not to any, I shall leave in the world behind me. Represent to Drusus what may be expected from him by Antonia; to Alexander, what from him, by Artemisa, to Ptolomey, what from him, by Marcia; and to Julius Antonius what from him, in order to the continuance of an illustrious blood whereof he is the first. As to what Julia may expect from me (said Marcellus interrupting her) it cannot dispense with me as to what I owe my friend. These obligations are not inconsistent; besides that I can owe no less than myself, for the reparation of an injury I have done myself, by persecuting a too faithful, & too unfortunate friend: And I can owe no less than myself to the revenge of Augustus' cruelty, who will needs sacrifice his life whom he loves as his son, to his unjust resentments and cruel maxims. For my part (says Drusus) I am not any way to be pitied, since I am Son and Brother to those who are the occasions of your ruin, and that by this action I assure Antonia of what all the precedent of my life could never persuade her to. And for us (added Prince Alexander, speaking for himself and Ptolomey) we cannot expect any acknowledgement for our contempt of death; for, besides that we could with honour but engage ourselves in the concernments of a brother and sister, whom the Persecutor of our House would put to death with so much cruelty, he had ordered us also to be secured, haply with the same intention. So that it is designed then (cries out the desperate Coriolanus) all should perish, and that my misfortune must drag both Cleopatra and Marcellus, and Drusus, and all the house of Anthony to inevitable death. He struck a little at that consideration, and at last assuming the discourse with an action more doleful, What (added he) shall Cleopatra & Marcellus, and so many illustrious persons die through my means, and shall so many excellent lives be sacrified to one so wretched as mine? No, no, Cleopatra, no Marcellus, you shall never see me exposed to the misfortune you threaten me with, and I will prevent it though all the earth should contribute to my unhappiness. I will never see the fair eyes of Cleopatra closed up by death, nor shall I expect, till that horrid enemy, against whom our valour avails us nothing, hath wrought any change in her countenance. I despair not yet, with the assistances of Heaven and my own courage, to secure what Love and Friendship make so dear to me, since I cannot imagine I shall want them in so just a design.  
With those words he walked up and down, one while in the Chamber, another in a Gallery adjoining to it, and in that manner tormented himself till it was day, not entertaining the least comfort from the discourses of either Cleopatra or Marcellus. Cesario was in a condition not much different through the grief he was in for Candace; and Artaban, though loath to forsake such illustrious Friends, was nevertheless resolved to force his way through ten thousand swords, or receive his death from the points of them, but he would find out Elisa, and deliver her out of the hands of Augustus in spite of all the force of the Empire.  
If the Castle were thus all in grief, there was but little joy in the Palace, and besides the effects which sorrow produced in the persons most concerned, such as Elisa, Julia, Antonia, Artemisa, Octavia, and the Sisters of Marcellus; and what a generous compassion wrought in Alcamenes, Ariobarzanes, Philadelph, Arminius, Archelaus, and their fair Princesses, even those who expected to make their advantages of others unhappiness could not reflect thereon without much disturbance. Livia however she might dissemble before Augustus, was extremely troubled for Drusus, and according to the greatness of her affection towards him, perplexed to find out a way to get him out of the danger whereto he was exposed without saving Coriolanus, or ruining the pretensions of Tiberius. Nay she saw so little hope to make Tiberius' happy by the enjoyment of Cleopatra, though it were in her power to bestow her on him, that she heartily wished to see him quit all inclinations for her, as thinking nothing more ruinous, as to his fortunes, nor the design she ever had of raising her children, if possible, to the highest dignity. Tiberius himself could find no satisfaction in what was done to that end, and besides the remorse it was to him, to see persecuted with so much cruelty, a person, who some days before had so generously given him his life, yet without pressing his advantage so far as to make him disclaim all hopes of Cleopatra, he conceived such a grief of at the Princess' aversion for him, and was by her late carriage so satisfied of the love she had for his Rival, that he wished with all his heart he could disengage himself of that which he had for her, as not able, by reason of the violence of his affection, to think on the resolution she had taken to die with Coriolanus, without dying almost himself out of the fear he was in for her, but resolved to suffer any thing before he would suffer her to put her design in execution. He was that night visited by the Empress, who saw him several times in the day, and while she was sat down on the bedside by him, and discoursing with him, Thrasyllus the ginger who came to him every day, and whom he gave much credit to, enters the room; and whether he were solicited to that purpose by Drusus, or that a confidence of the truth obliged him thereto, he takes Tiberius by the hand, and wring it with much earnestness; My Lord, (said he to him) if you have hitherto found any truth in the things I have told you, let me entreat you to give absolute credit to what I am now to acquaint you with, and upon that discovery endeavour to subdue a passion which is the main obstacle of your greatness. I know without the assistance of my Art the love you have for Cleopatra; and I know by it that you will come to the Empire: I foresee it so inevitably, that I durst engage my life upon the confidence I have of it; but I can withal give it you for a thing infallible, that he who shall have the enjoyment of Cleopatra will never be Master of the Empire, and am content you cut off my head, if Time confirms not the truth of my prediction. The discourse of Thrasyllus prevailed much with Tiberius, who had experienced the truth of his predictions; but it wrought strangely on Levia, in whom ambition was the predominant passion, and having caused Thrasyllus to express himself more clearly as to that particular, he acquainted them more at large, how he by infallible Observations foresaw that he who married Julia should succeed Augustus, that it should not be Marcellus, and that by all the rules of his Science it could be no other than Tiberius; but that he would venture his life that Cleopatra should never be Wife to the Emperor. Livia was much pleased with this discourse; and raised in Tiberius a liking of it as much as lay in her power, and he being no less ambitious than amorous, those Remonstrances (though not able to cure him of his Love) obliged him to make some reflections on the Obstacle he met with therein by the aversion of Cleopatra, and the resolution she had taken to die rather than be his, and forsake his Rival, and upon those reflections heightened his courage to endeavour his recovery.  
No better was the condition of Agrippa, though not so much indisposed in body as he had been some days before, the Fever having in a manner left him. He knew nothing of what passed, but imagined there was something extraordinary in agitation, and suspected both from the discourses of the Emperor, and the reserved carriage of his own Servants, when he enquired after her, that Elisa might receive some unhandsome treatment upon his account. The Emperor upon pretence of the importunity of Visits to a person in his condition, had ordered that the Princes and other persons from whom he might have understood how things went, should not be admitted to him; but that night, after the Emperor had left his Chamber, one of the Queen of Parthia's women came to the door to speak with him; and Agrippa having heard some of his people speaking to her, commanded them to tell him what the matter was: he had no sooner heard it, but he ordered her to be brought in, and was very angry she had waited so long. The Woman coming to the bedside, presented him with a Letter from the Princess of Parthia. The amorous Agrippa changed colour upon the hearing of that name, and after he had not without trembling received the Letter, he caused Torches to be brought, and having opened it, found therein these words.  
Elisa Princess of Parthia to Agrippa.  
THe cruel treatments I receive upon your account force me to write to you, and to demand justice of yourself for the indignities I am exposed to. It were not much to deprive a Queen and Princess of Parthia of their liberty, if there were not a design to put to death a Prince descended from Arsaces, one whom the Queen my Mother, and the Estates of Parthia have destined to be my Husband. Is this, generous Agrippa, the performance of the promise you made me, to employ only love and services to prevail with me! And are these the effects of that virtue which made you more considerable than your fortunes! Will you suffer a Princess descended from the greatest King upon earth to be upon your account reduced to a necessity to seek in death the remedy of her misfortunes? or can you hope to find after such a crime committed, any refuge or any Plea against the indignation of the Gods and the reproaches of men?  
Agrippa read the Letter over two or three several times with an astonishment which could not be compared to any thing but the grief that attended it, and he was at such a loss through both, that of a long time he could not recover the freedom of speech. At last, casting his eyes off the Letter, and turning them one while on the Woman who had brought it with an action discovering the greatness of his grief, and another on such of his men as were about him with looks full of fury; he seemed by the one and the other to express how much he was displeased with them, and vindicate himself to her.  
In fine, his astonishment giving way to the desire he had to clear his innocence, and to remedy the inconveniences he was the occasion of, he called the most considerable of his Servants, and laid his absolute commands upon him to give him a faithful account of what passed, and what he was kept in ignorance of. Whereupon willing to satisfy his Master's desires, though with some hazard of Caesar's displeasure, he entertained him with a long relation of what had been kept secret from him, as well concerning the arrival of the Queen of Parthia, the death of Phraates, the acknowledgement of Artaban to be a Prince of the blood of Arsaces, as the imprisonment of Artaban, the Emperor's Orders for the death of Coriolanus and Cesario, the taking of the Castle by Artaban and the sons of Anthony, the action of Cleopatra, Marcellus and Drusus, their resolution to die with the two Princes, the sally made by the besieged, and the assurance which the Emperor had of the want of provisions in the Castle, upon which he had resolved either to starve those Illustrious persons, or have them all at his mercy to receive such punishment as he should think fit. In a word, he omitted nothing which he thought was not come to the knowledge of Agrippa, and when he came to those passages which he would represent more favourably, out of a fear of the Emperor's displeasure, Elisa's woman who was present at the Discourse, discovered the whole truth without any palliation, so that from the Relations of both, he understood all things as well at least as the persons from whom he received that account could inform him. The astonishment it put him into was no less than what he had conceived upon the receipt of Elisa's Letter, whereupon having continued silent a little while, O Cesar (said he, sighing) is it possible the noble fame thou hast acquired should be less dear to thee than that which thou gottest by the cruelties of the Triumvirate, and that thou must needs make me guilty of those actions wherein I shall not, out of my own inclination, ever have any hand? After which turning to the Messenger that came from Elisa, You see (said he to her) how far I am innocent, or at least, if I am chargeable with any thing, that it is to be attributed to my misfortune, and not my intentions: It must be my endeavour to clear myself of all; and you may assure the Princess, that as to those things which lie in my power, I shall infallibly remedy them, and to others do all I can. With which words, calling for what was requisite to send the Princess an answer, he with a trembling hand writ these few words:  
AGRIPPA to the Princess of Parthia.  
I Acknowledge myself a criminal in that I presumed to adore you, but my crime absolutely proceeds from my Love, and that is so great, as that I need not be charged with any of the rest: I had prevented them with the hazard of my life, had I not been ignorant thereof, and shall yet be willing to lose it, if I can make no other reparation for the inconveniences you have been and still are subject to upon my account.  
Having dispatched the messenger with this answer, and commanded all that were about him to leave the room, with discoveries of a displeasure which it was above his moderation to dissemble, he fell into the most cruel disturbances his soul had ever struggled with; and reflecting with much dissatisfaction on the strange account he had received, he concluded that such great miseries required great reparations, and that, having been the occasion of all the indignities done to such a Princess as Elisa, and such a man as Artaban, and the danger whereto they were exposed, if some sudden expedient were not found out, he thought it but just that a passion which had produced such deplorable effects should be subdued by a resentment proportionable to the mischiefs it had caused, and that he ought by some action, such as might speak the transcendency of his virtue, set himself right in the sentiments of Elisa and Artaban, prevent Caesar from drawing on himself a War, and the hatred of nations, and stifle the memory of a misfortune whereby his own good name might receive a blemish among men. It further came into his thoughts, that, Elisa's condition was such, by the death of her Father, after the discovery she had made of her inclinations, with the consent of her Mother, and suitably to the desires of the Parthians, and the acknowledgement of Artaban's being descended from Arsaces, that he could not any longer continue his pretensions to her, and thought it better to quit them out of a certain civility, and by an effect of his great courage, than to be forced to it by necessity.  
This than was his design, but the difficulty was in the execution of it; and to that end did he summon all his courage to his assistance, and sought in his virtue what might reduce a passion that rebelled against it with those forces which it would be no easy matter to defeat. He was in this tempest of reflections, and spent the whole night therein, while the Emperor having sought rest in sleep, had much ado to find it, by reason of a dream which troubled him. He was fallen asleep, after he had passed away some part of the night in thoughts of the affront he had received in one of his own Cities by an inconsiderable number of men (he whom nothing should oppose, and to whom the whole world in a manner was subject) and the revenge he intended, when not long before day, and about the time that dreams make an impression in men's minds with less disorder and more truth, according to the common opinion, there stands before him the Ghost of the Great Julius Caesar, not only with all the Majesty, which, while living, attended the greatness of his person and actions, but with something greater, more august, and more conformable to that divine state into which the Romans had raised him. The Emperor looked on him with a veneration such as was due only to the Gods, and found his eyes sparkling with anger, and all his countenance such as discovered the greatness of his indignation; and expecting what might be the issue of it, not without some fear, he thought the great Dictator with a menacing action, and darting lightning instead of looks, spoke thus to him: Octavius, (said he to him,) for thou art not worthy, the name of Caesar, nor that of my son, is it thus thou exercisest the dignity whereto I had unjustly raised thee? and have I, of the son of Octavius, made thee the greatest man, and in a manner Master of the Universe, only to employ the greatness I have given thee, to the shame of the name thou bearest, and the ruin of my posterity? What is remaining of it among men in the person of a Prince who would better become the rank that's due to him, and in which I have unfortunately placed thee, after he had sought security among the Sunburnt Nations against the first discoveries of thy cruelty, is still exposed thereto, and expects the stroke of that inhuman sword which thou hast lifted over his head. He disputes not any thing with thee, though he lawfully might all, and yet thou thinkest much to let him live in the extremities of the earth, where he had, by the assistances of heaven found refuge. Thou wert the death of his mother, a person I dearly loved, as also that of Anthony my faithful friend. Their daughter, the miracle and ornament of her times, finds in thee a cruel persecutor; and a Prince, the glory of his age, one I loved in his infancy, and promised the kingdoms of his father, which I had added to thy dominions, after he hath settled it by his valour, nay after he hath saved thy life in the greatest danger thou wert ever exposed to, expects from thy unmerciful hand the period of his noble life. Men were in a disposition to forget thy horrid proscriptions upon thy personated change, but thou returnest to thy former humour, and thinkest it a trouble to acquire a deserved fame by a real virtue. Reflect on all the transactions of my life, such as might well be proposed as a pattern for thee, and see whether of that great number of enemies who fought against both my life and fortunes, I ever put one to death after victory had brought them into my power: if this example, and the remembrance of what thou owest my blood, and the obligations thou hast to virtue, cannot move thee, go, base executioner, go, Son of Octavius, unhappily called into the house of the Caesars by an unjust adoption, go sacrifice all to thy revenge and ambition, and glut thyself with the blood thou art so desirous to see spilt, Thy inhumanity shall not go unpunished, and if the Gods give thee a long and peaceablelife, it shall be crossed with domestic discontents, such as shall haply be stinging enough to put thee in mind of thy cruelties. Since thou derivest a satisfaction from the death of mine, thou shalt also see that of thy own; it shall not be long ere thou lament the loss of thy dearest hopes; and after thou hast, while living, bewailed the death of what had been most dear to thee, thou shalt leave thy place, contrary to thy present intention, to what thou raisest for the destruction of mankind, and to such successors as shall be the burden and hatred of the earth.  
To this effect was the discourse of the Great Caesar, which he concluded with a look inflamed with indignation upon his successor; who was so smartly moved thereat, that making a sudden interruption in his sleep, the impression left of it in him was so strong, that he thought at his waking he saw disappear the reverenced shade of his illustrions' Predecessor. Certain it is, this dream, which seemed to portend something extraordinary, moved him in such a manner, and fastened on his thoughts with so much appearance of truth, that it was along time ere he could well discern whether it were a dream or a real apparition. It made him reflect on whatever he had heard said of Visions, whether real or imaginary, & among other things called to mind that of the evil Genius of Brutus, which presented itself to him before the battle of Philippi. After all these considerations, concluding it was only in a dream that Cesar had appeared to him, since he had seen him only in his sleep, he began to reflect on the menaces and reproaches that fell from him. He was well enough satisfied as to the latter, but found much obscurity in the former, though by that which was made to him of the loss of his dearest hopes, affection, naturally guilty of a certain timidity, made him imagine it might relate to the death of Marcellus.  
That consideration moved him very much, and that the more, because Marcellus' condition and resolutions were such as he might well fear any thing: so that not able to smother certain sighs, What (said he) must I then lose my son Marcellus, whom notwithstanding the resentment I have against him, I still love beyond my life? His thoughts were much more taken up with that menace, and those consequent thereto, than they were with the reproaches; though these raised in him some confusion, and at certain times a remorse. It was far days ere he could divert his reflections from this importunate dream which incessantly came still into his mind, or resolve whether he should persist in his resolutions, after the menaces of heaven which he thought discovered to him by the great Cesar. At last overcoming the impression that made such a disturbance in him, What (said he) Cesar frighted at a dream! a dream make Cesar quit the resolutions he had taken! No, no (continued he) I will never be reproached with that weakness; and if my father, who charges me with cruelty, had secured himself by maxims suitable to mine, his reign had not been so short, nor his illustrious life been exposed to the rage of his enemies. With which words he got out of his bed, endeavouring to disengage his thoughts of those importunate ideas that disturbed him, yet could he not do it so well, but that those who were waiting his getting up, observed in his countenance somewhat more than ordinary of pensiveness, which they attributed to the actions of the precedingday, whereby he had been moved to several passions, which had wrought some change in his disposition.  
His Court was but small that morning, or if it were great, it was by reason of the number and not the dignity of the persons about him; for of all the Kings, Princes and other considerable persons that were in Alexandria, there came only King Tigranes and the King of Comagene, with such of the Romans as he had cast particular favours on, and the Officers of the Praetorian bands. All the rest were elsewhere; and betimes in the morning upon the entreaty of the King of Scythia, the King of Armenia, the Prince of Cilicia, the King of Cappodocia, and with them Crassus, Lentulus and divers other illustrious Romans, met together at the King of Scythia's lodgings, to resolve what course should be taken for the safety of so many excellent persons. Every one gave his opinion suitable to the degree of his esteem or friendship for the besieged Princes; so that Alcamenes finding the intentions of all concurred to do something in order to their deliverance, especially Ariobarzanes and Philadelph, who sensible of their obligations to Artaban, and concerned in the interest of Alexander, by reason of that of Artemisa, would run any hazard ere they would suffer them to be lost, told them, he was very much satisfied to find them so resolved, and troubled at nothing so much as to see the posture he was in at Alexandria, that he came thither attended only by 500 Horse, which made him the more cautious in a matter of that importance; that his opinion was, that they should address themselves once more to the Emperor; and that to that end notwithstanding the aversion he had to do it, he would go along with them and speak to him but that if their addresses proved ineffectual, other ways must be thought on to relieve them; and that he was so confident of his 500 Scythians, whom he had about him well armed and well mounted; that he despaired not in the head of them to force the Emperor's Guard, and put in provisions into the Castle, and make way for the besieged to get aboard the ships, giving them notice by Letters which might be fastened to arrows, to make a sally; and set upon their enemies before, while the Scythians should deal with them behind: that they should take along with them the provisions they would put into the Castle, in case the other design, being the more difficult, might not take, and that it would be no hard matter for him to have his men armed and mounted, under pretence of departure, after he had to that purpose taken leave of the Emperor.  
Though there was much danger in this enterprise, yet were not those who had heard of the great actions of Alcamenes, astonished at the making of such a proposition; and besides the friendship and compassion they had for the persons they were desirous to relieve, there was also a respect to Royal dignity, which made them take so heinously the tyrannical proceeding of the Emperor against Kings and Princes, that they thought nothing difficult or dangerous to oppose it, and told the King of Scythia they would follow him what resolution soever he should take. But in regard Ariobarzanes and Philadelph were to provide for Olympia, Arsinoe and Artemisa, and that the King of Scythia would get Elisa and the Queen her mother out of the power of Augustus, they resolved not to put their design in execution till night, at which time they thought it might be better carried on, both as to their setting upon the besiegers, and getting the Princess out of the Palace; not doubting but the besieged might pass one day without provisions, upon the hope they should put them into of relief.  
Having thus resolved, and spent some time in giving orders to some trusty persons, as well concerning provisions, as the securing of the ships, in case they might force their passage they went all together to the Emperor, whom they found in the great Palace-Hall with Tigranes, Polemon, Mithridates, some of those creatures who were most at his devotion, and the Officers of the horse which he had ordered to come into Alexandria and to quarter about the City. Their arrival much troubled the Princes, as what might make their enterprise prove more difficult; yet were they resolved to carry it on, so predominant was the love of Virtue in their souls in comparison of all obstacles and dangers. The King of Scythia & those that accompanied him, conceiving their addresses might be better received, if they were seconded by those of Octavia, Julia and Elisa herself, sent to those great Princesses to entreat them to be there; so that they entering at one door met the Princess Julia with Octavia, Antonia and her three Sisters, and soon after the Queen of Parthia with the Princess Elisa, accompanied by Olympia, Arsinoe, Artemisa, Ismenia, and the Princess of Cilicia and Cappadocia, coming in at another. But at the same time comes in also the Empress, attended by what other persons of rank there were about the Court▪ which the Princes looked very ominously upon, out of a persuasion that she would oppose their desires, and that her presence alone was enough to divert the Emperor from those good intentions which upon their applications he might be induced to.  
Though the Emperor imagined what brought so great and so noble an Assembly before him, and was resolved their mediations should not prevail with him to abate any thing of his resolution, yet he entertained the Queen of Parthia and the Princesses with a seeming civility; and the dissatisfaction he had conceived of the King of Scythia, hindered him not from receiving him suitable to his rank and the hospitality he might expect from him. The Hall they were in was one of the most spacious and magnificent in the world; it had been enriched by the profusions and pride of Queen Cleopatra, and there it was she had often taken the pleasure to see the vassalled Kings doing their submissions and homages at the feet of Anthony. This illustrious Assembly being seated according to Caesar's order, who placed the Queen of Parthia on the right hand of Livia, the King of Scythia next himself, and the other Princesses, Kings and Princes according to their rank and dignity; the Princess Julia on one side with Artemisa, and on the other the virtuous Octavia with all her daughters, cast themselves at the feet of Augustus, and washing them with their tears, begged of him the lives of Marcellus, Cleopatra, Alexander, and the sons of Anthony; but the Emperor causing them to rise, silenced them with the same answer they had received before; and addressing himself to Octavia; You are unreasonable sister (said he to her) to demand that of me, which I should rather desire of you; restore me Marcellus, whom I love, ungrateful as he is, no less than you can do, and get him out of that party into which he hath wilfully cast himself, it is the best office you can do me; in a word, Marcellus notwithstanding his ingratitude, is dearer to me then my life. I have also an affection for Cleopatra, as out of a respect to her worth and the friendship you have for her I think myself obliged, nor do I hate the children of Anthony though I had resolved to secure them, not to do them any injury, but to divert them from doing what they have, and which I foresaw they would. For my part, I give them you, and Julia, and your Daughters, and the Princess Artemisa, so that it is not of me but of themselves that you are to demand them.  
By such discourses as these was he waving their importunity and eluding their solicitations, with pretences specious enough, when the King of Scythia, speaking in the name of those that had accompanied him; You are willing Cesar (said he to him) upon the entreaties of these great Princesses to give up such Princes as you have a love for, which certainly is no great discovery of your lenity, as having no resentment, at lest no aversion to overmaster against persons that are either dear or not hateful in your sight; but I come with all these Kings, Princes, and Illustrious persons (continued he, pointing to those that had accompanied him) to give you a nobler occasion to exercise it in begging of the lives and liberty of those you hate, We should haply have forborn our intercession by reason of the difficulties we have already met with therein, a thing being not so easily digestible with Kings especially such as are somewhat above those that ordinarily go under that title, as to encourage them to further solicitations, but the lives of Juba and Cesario two Princes whose virtue and birth, all the earth is obliged to adore and respect are of that importance as may well require our slighting that consideration. I say nothing of the life of Artaban, as not imagining you ever had any intention to put to death a Prince of the Blood-royal, or rather a King of Parthia, who had not injured you; so that all our desires amount to, is his Liberty, with the lives of the others. I am inclined to hope that those first eruptions of your displeasure being now over, you will have some regard to the intercession of these Princes and not to suffer me to leave a place whither I came without any necessity, merely out of the desire I had to honour you, and to make with you an alliance we never demanded of any Sovereign or Nation, with the regret of having not been able to divert a misfortune which all the world would resent, wherein the dignity of all Kings is concerned, and such as would haply expose yourself to those inconveniences which should admit neither comfort nor remedy.  
This was the tenor of Alcamenes' discourse, to which the Emperor, who expected no less from him, and accordingly had ready the answer intended to make thereto, retorted thus For the Kings (said he to him) and other persons that accompany you, I ought and may treat them after a manner much different from that I use towards you, and I shall haply make them sensible, that my party, without any consideration should have been theirs; but for you, who though no way obliged would needs do what I could not exact from you, and who ought to be respected for your great actions which make you no less considerable than the rank you are of in the world, I am to tell you, that having received you as a great King, a friend, and an ally, and not by any action of mine engaged to side with my enemies against me, I could not but have thought it very strange that on the behalf of persons between whom and you there was not any friendship or alliance, nay such as were not known to you, you should immediately oppose what my justice required I should do against a man from whom I had received such remarkable affronts, and what I ought to do out of a respect to my security with another, whose birth and pretensions may disturb the Roman Empire as long as he lives. You have seen how that one of the two guilty before of offences sufficiently incensing, comes and fights with, nay almost kills in my sight a son to the Empress, and that the other hath been found lurking in Alexandria, You are not ignorant of either the Maxims or interests of Kings, and I see no reason but my security and satisfaction should have been as dear to you as those of these unknown persons, and yet you must needs immediately engage in their concernments against mine, and have spoken for them without any entreaty of theirs, you should put yourself to that trouble; for neither Coriolanus nor Caesario desire you should solicit for them, they are not in the condition of Petitioners, no, it is by force of arms they would escape the danger they are exposed to, and not by entreaties and submissions; nay they came yesterday even to my person, and had it not been for an unexpected rescue would have sheathed their swords in my breast. What reason therefore can you have to promote, as you do, the concernments of persons unknown to you, against a man you have sought after, whose friendship you have courted, and should accordingly have other thoughts of, then that of these unfortunate wretches? And upon what account can you wonder I do not comply with your desires in this as I should upon any other occasion? Thus much I had to say concerning those who are to die, and whose death, after the injury I have lately received in your sight, in a City where I am in person, no mediation, no humane power shall be able to divert. For Artaban, I had no design upon his life, but you should have made less noise than you have upon my securing of him after it was discovered he held intelligence with my enemies, and if he hath engaged himself among them and will run their fortunes, it is through his own wilfulness that he miscarries, and not by my Orders, for it is known what difference there was between those issued out for him, and those for the others. Think it not strange therefore that having so much reason to be dissatisfied with you, I should prefer the quiet of the Empire, and the safety of my person, before the unjust satisfaction you desire of me; and assure yourself that if I had not great respects for you, I should have made you sensible how highly I thought myself injured by your late proceedings.  
Thus spoke Augustus, delivering himself with such an action as satisfied all present there was no hope of the Prince's deliverance; and the King of Scythia, incensed at his discourse, was going to rejoin thereto with an eagerness which might have heightened their mutual exasperations, when a great noise being first heard upon the stairs, there comes in presently after a party of Officers and Soldiers surrounding a man whom they were bringing before the Emperor, who casting his eye that way to see what the matter was, the Soldiers dividing themselves left in the midst standing before the Emperor the King of Mauritania. He was without armour, so much as a sword, having given his own to an Officer who held it in his hand; but even in that posture would he seem as dreadful to his enemies as in the head of an army, had not a certain natural mildness moderated what was so martially fierce in his countenance. The condition he was in, as it had not abated any thing of his courage, so had it not taken away aught from the goodliness of his presence, insomuch that that Illustrious Assembly could not look on him without a particular admiration for all things in him. Having of his own accord delivered himself up to the persons who brought him thither, he went not among them as a Prisoner, and so betrayed not any thing in his countenance which argued either want of freedom or disturbance. He came not up to Caesar with an outrageous fierceness, such as a just resentment and the contempt of death might inspire him with, but presented himself to him with an assurance suitable to the greatness of his courage, attended by a modesty which was natural in him, and such as discovered no more boldness then ordinary; unless what might be thought to proceed from the confidence he had in his own actions, and his indifference for life or death.  
The whole Assembly was in suspense, expecting what would be the issue of that adventure, when the Prince addressing himself to the Emperor with a grace which raised a general compassion for his fortune; Caesar (said he to him) the guilty person now stands before thee, presenting himself to save the innocent; I only have deserved, I only have incurred thy displeasure, it is not therefore just that Cleopatra and Marcellus should groan under the effects of it. The treatment I have received from thee hath been such as should oblige me with the loss of my life to endeavour thy enjoyments, but the affection I have for, and the obligations I have for, and the obligations I have received from Marcellus are such as that I would gladly part with my own life to preserve his. 'Tis my greatest trouble that I cannot give Marcellus any thing but what Cleopatra may claim as hers, nor lose that for Cleopatra which I do not owe Marcellus; but since they are so generous as to give me themselves what I owe them, they will be content with an unfortunate life, which I bestow on them, and would heartily sacrifice to Love and Friendship, were it much happier. Give thy commands then that the son of Juba be put to that kind of death which thou think'st most fit; but send out thy Orders with all diligence for the saving of Marcellus and Cleopatra, since it is to secure theirs that I resign thee, that of thy enemy. I lay it down without any regret, provided thou restore thy Nephew to that affection which he hath but too well deserved from thee, and permit not Cleopatra to be unfortunate. 'Tis only with this hope that I give thee the satisfaction of my death, which I shall receive without repining, if I have this comfort, expirng that I have contributed to the enjoyments and fortune of my Princess and Friend.  
Thus spoke Coriolanus; and his discourse and deportment so conformable to all the actions of his life wrought so with all present, that of the many that were there, most of them would have gladly exposed themselves to some part of the danger he was in, to exempt him from it: But much different were the apprehensions of Augustus; nor was it much to be wondered at, that he, who upon all the Inhabitants of a City prostrate at his feet, had passed that cruel Sentence, You must die; and answered those desired only Sepulture, when he sent them to their Execution, That that favour was at the disposal of the Crows, was not moved as he should be, either at the virtue or misfortune of so great a Prince. Not but that he conceived a certain shame at his procedure; but being he was the more obstinately resolved to persist in it, the more he had been exasperated by opposition, he thought it but requisite for the better settlement of his authority, to give the Nations a dreadful example of his revenge, after the injury he had received the day before. Fixed in that resolution, and betraying in his eyes some part of what his breast was full of, and casting a terrible look on the Prince, Thou shalt once have thy desires (said he to him) and since thou art so willing it should be so I receive thy life as the ransom of those of Marcellus and Cleopatra. Yet would I not have thee imagine me obliged to thee for the present thou makest of it: I had haply refused it hadst thou proffered it while it was in thy disposal, but thou art willing to part with it when thou canst no longer keep it, and so requitest with what is none of thy own, the Love of Cleopatra and friendship of Marcellus. I shall have a care of their welfare and fortunes, and thou mayst take a journey to the other world with this comfort, that if thou contributest nothing to their enjoyment, thou freest them from the troubles which thy life had always involved them in. Whereupon turning to those officers whom he durst best trust with the management of such an execution, he commanded them to take away the Prince out of his presence, and put him to death without further delay.  
These words raised a horror in all the Assembly: the Princesses who had an esteem for the Virtue and Person of Coriolanus, expressed their sorrow by the loudness of their sighs; Alcamenes was enraged at it, and having cast his eye on the Princes who were engaged in his resolutions, was going to rise from his place to put in execution what his great courage and the extremity they were in should advise him to, when after a noise like that which had preceded the arrival of Coriolanus, entered the Hall Prince Marcellus, and some few paces after him the fair Cleopatra, led by Drusus. Upon their coming in, a great shout was given, out of a hope of some change; & Marcellus coming up to Coriolanus just as Norbanus, who had received the cruel order, was laying hands on him to carry him away, he with his left hand seized him by the arm he had held out, and with his right laying hold of the hilt of his sword, Hold (said he to him) and think not any respect shall hinder me from taking away thy life, if thou offer to be the Executioner of my Brother. And thereupon forcing the Prince out of his hands, and presenting himself with him before Caesar, See now, my Lord (said he to him) the object of your displeasure; you vainly seek it elsewhere, and there is no way for you to be revenged of Coriolanus but by the death of Marcellus; you may be satisfied by what he hath done, that it is the death of Marcellus he is so much afraid of, and not his own, and you now see it is by the death of Marcellus and now his own that you are to punish him. By putting him death to save Marcellus, you grant him his own desire, and by putting Marcellus to death for his safety, you sacrifice a life that's dear to him to preserve one he is burdened with. Open your eyes to see your own revenge, since revenge is the thing you so much thirst after, and you will find you cannot take it with greater cruelty then by putting to death in his presence, not what he hates, but what he loves above himself. 'Tis then Cleopatra that must die) cries out the fair Daughter of Antonia, coming up close to Marcellus) for how great soever the friendship may be which Coriolanus hath for Marcellus, yet must it be inferior to the Love he hath for me. Besides, Caesar, I am descended of those who have disputed the Empire with thee to the last breath; and thou mayst fear, that as I inherit the Name, I may also the Courage and aversion of Cleopatra; cut off this unfortunate Branch of a hateful Stock, and make it known by a revenge which thy enemy will be more sensible of then of a thousand deaths, couldst thou make him suffer so many, that in the art of exquisite vengeance never any was so well experienced as thyself, Caesar (adding the Prince of Mauritania, interrupting the Princess) Cleopatra and Marcellus speak to thee as a cruel Prince, and I look on thee as an impartial Judge. I must confess the revenge they propose to thee would be cruel; but not just, and the business now is not to execute vengeance home, but to save the innocent and punish the guilty. Nor do I therefore divert thee from their death, as satisfied, that all they can say to thee will not provoke thee so far as to bring their lives into any danger: but I conjure thee to prevent the effect of their unreasonable resolutions, and not to leave an indelible blemish in thy reputation by neglecting their safety. The Emperor (replies Marcellus) may indeed put me to death if he please, but cannot make me live against my will; and though I were deprived of all destructive instruments, there are other ways to die which no power but that of the Gods can prevent. Be therefore assured, my Lord (continued he turning to Caesar) that though your power be the greatest that can be, you cannot make me live if you take away the life of Coriolanus, and that all the earth will detest your cruelty, if you put to death a Prince who yesterday with so much generosity saved your life.  
Augustus was a little troubled at this discourse of Marcellus and looking scornfully on him; Ungrateful man, (said he to him,) thou shouldst be ashamed of the reproach thou makest me, and consider thou art much more to be blamed, for having engaged against my people in a place where I was in person, then to be commended, for diverting the enemy's weapon from thy father's breast. Thou oughtest, with the hazard of thy life to have done what thou didst upon that occasion but shouldest rather have lost a thousand lives, then be found in arms against thy father and Emperor. I neither was in arms against you (replied the Prince) nor rescued you from the enemy's weapon, and the Prince you now send to execution, hath sufficiently expressed how little he values his own life, if he hath not vouchsafed to tell you, that it is only to him you are obliged for your own, and that by a magnanimity beyond all example, it was he delivered it out of the hands of a dreadful enemy, while you endeavoured nothing so earnestly as to take away his. How, (cries out the Emperor, casting his eyes one while on Marcellus, another on Coriolanus) was it from Coriolanus I received that relief which I thought came from Marcellus? No, it was from Marcellus you received it, (says the King of Mauritania to him,) though both Marcellus and Drusus were at that time with the Princesses, and had it not been for the respect I have for whatever is loved by Marcellus, I should not have been guilty of that tenderness for the life of so cruel an enemy.  
Augustus' giving way to the astonishment and confusion which such an emergency might well raise in him, looked several times on the Prince, viewing him from head to foot, (while Drusus confirmed to the assembly, and celebrated that transcendent action of Coriolanus) and afterward fastening his eyes on the ground, and leaning his head on one hand, and his arm on the elbow of his chair, he continued in the posture of a man overburthened with a deep reflection on something of nearest consequence; during which all the illustrious company put up their addresses to Heaven for the Prince's safety, nay Livia herself, moved at his admirable virtue, seemed to favour him, and to have quitted the displeasure she had conceived against him upon the wounds of Tiberius. He was heard to sigh several times while his thoughts were so busied, and the Idea of the dream which had troubled him that night, coming to his mind, and raising new disturbances there, No more, Father, (said he, speaking so loud as to be heard by those that were about his chair,) no more, I remember both your reproaches and your menaces.  
While he was in that posture, and all the assembly in suspense, there comes into the Hall a man whom few there thought in a condition to venture so far; 'twas Agrippa, who pale and weak, and finding much ado to walk with the help of one of his men, had made a shift to get through the throng, through the civility that all had to make him way, and got up with much difficulty to the Emperor's chair. Elisa's colour changed upon sight of him, though, out of the confidence she had of his virtue; she expected nothing of misfortune from his coming, and imagined that the violence he did himself was an effect of the letter she had sent him. At last, the Emperor, recovering himself as it were out of a deep study, immediately cast his eyes on him, and no doubt would have been much troubled to see him come abroad in that condition, had not his thoughts been wholly taken up with other considerations. But as things than stood, he was not a little glad to see him, and laying his hand on his arm, Ah my dear Agrippa (said he to him) how seasonable is your coming, and how much do I stand in need of your help to overcome a strange disturbance! But alas! added he sighing, methinks it is a long time that you have forsaken me. Agrippa would have made him some answer, but the Emperor wring him by the arm, Leave me to myself, (said he to him,) for this first engagement, you shall help me out in the rest, if I stand in need of your assistance. Whereupon endeavouring to dispel that cloudiness of thought which lay so heavy about his heart, he fastened his eyes on the King of Mauritania, and after he had looked on him a good while without speaking aught; I know not, (said he to him,) whether thou hast raised in me more hatred and displeasure against thee by the injuries thou didst me, at a time when I might haply force thee to it, or confusion at the service thou didst me upon an occasion, wherein thou shouldst not do it out of any other motive then that of thy virtue; and whether I ought to have a greater resentment of the affront, than acknowledgement for the good office I have received; but must confess, I was less to seek in the revenge than I am in the reparation. 'Tis past all deliberation that thou shall live, thy life is due to the intercession of Marcellus: and the great action thou didst yesterday for me deserus something more than life; but what can I do for thee, if it be not in my power to make thee live, and that thou wilt not accept of thy life without Cleopatra. The immortal Gods are my witnesses; that to recompense thy virtue, and to cover with oblivion the cruelties I have exercised upon the most virtuous of men, I wish it were in my power by a present of what would be very precious to me to comfort thee for the loss of Cleopatra, or follow the inclination I had to bestow her on thee. But I am engaged both by my promises and obligations not easily avoidable; and what I owe the affection of the Empress, and that which she hath for her son, leave me not in a capacity to make any other disposal of her than what may be suitable to their desires.  
He would have continued his discourse, but the Empress interrupting him; My Lord (said he to him) though the injuries I have received from Coriolanus are notorious, as having two several times, as it were in my slight, reduced my son to the extremities of life and death, and that I may well endeavour the enjoyments of a Son, great enough to deserve some regard, yet the compliance I have for your desires, and the acknowledgements which Tiberius will while he lives have for your goodness, aught to prevail with him beyond all resentments, and all manner of interest; and accordingly how justly soever I might be incensed against Coriolanus, and what affection soever Tiberius may have for Cleopatra, we can smother both to satisfy you; and I am to assure you, out of the influence I have over Tiberius, and the knowledge I have of his intentions, that if it be your desire to bestow Cleopatra on Coriolanus, he will submit to that disposal of her, and we will never repine at the favour you do such persons for whose virtue I have myself an affection and esteem.  
There was a general acclamation and beating of hands at this discourse of Livia, as being such as gained the hearts of so many Illustrious persons more than all her precedent actions would have done; and the Emperor having heard it with all the expressions of an extraornary joy; I humbly acknowledge the indulgence of the Gods (said he) that they afford me in some measure the means to make reparation for those miscarriages which an immoderate indignation and a certain jealousy of my authority had made me guilty of: I shall be very happy (said he, turning to Alcamenes and the other Princes) if I may persuade to an oblivion of them so many illustrious persons who with too much reason were dissatisfied therewith. Thou shalt live Coriolanus (continued he, turning towards him) and enjoy Cleopatra. Marcellus hath given thee thy life, by being desirous to die with thee; the Empress hath given thee Cleopatra, by dispensing with the promise I had made her; and in regard it were not just that having received my life from the by a generosity beyond all example, thou shouldest receive nothing from me, I give thee the kingdoms of thy Ancestors which thou hadst recovered by thy valour, and afterwards lost by thy misfortune; thou shalt reign over the two Mauritanias, from which I reserve to myself no tribute nor other acknowledgement than that of thy alliance; and to confirm it between us, I embrace thee as a King, my Friend and Ally.  
Having so said, he spread his arms to receive him; and the son of Juba casting himself at his feet, and in that posture receiving his embraces; Ah my Lord (said he to him) now is it that I feel a grief and remorse for having offended you, and this expression of your goodness forces me, much beyond all the effects of your power, to acknowledge you my Sovereign Lord and Emperor. Augustus' having caused him to rise embraced him with much affection; and perceiving that Cleopatra was going to cast herself at his feet, he takes her in his arms, and preventing what she would have said to him; Divine Princess, the ornament of the Universe (said he to her) be pleased to forget the persecution I have made you suffer, and receive as a satisfaction I should make you, the life and liberty of Caesario, which I give you upon that account. I am inclined to hope he will not disturb the quiet of our Empire, since his fortune will be considerable enough in the enjoyment of Candace and possession of the great Kingdom of Ethiopia, not to envy his, whom he sees in the place of his Father.  
Upon these last words of Augustus, the Illustrious persons that were present reiterated their acclamations; and while Marcellus embraced his knees with a certain transportation, Cleopatra made another attempt to make her acknowledgements to him in the same posture for the life and happiness of her Brother. Only Elisa of all that Illustrious Assembly seemed not to participate of the public satisfaction, so that Agrippa having taken notice of her grief, comes up to the Emperor, and embracing the knee. Marcellus had quitted; My Lord (said he to him) to be absolutely great, to be absolutely just, to be absolutely Caesar in all things, you must consummate what you have begun. It is to solicit your goodness to do it, that I have overcome my weakness, and made a shift to crawl to your feet. You have bestowed Cleopatra on the King of Mauritania, and the Queen of Ethiopia on Caesario; you must, my Lord, to accomplish all things with the same greatness, bestow the Princess of Parthia on her valiant and faithful Artabau. He only of all the world is worthy of her, and besides your doing therein an action suitable to your justice, you will have the glory to have given the Parthians, who were the most in veterate enemies of the Roman name, a King.  
The Emperor was not a little surprised at the discourse of Agrippa, though he should have been better acquainted with his virtue than to have received that expression of it with so much astonishment, and looking on him with a countenance wherein was legible what his thoughts were upon; Agrippa (said he to him) the Proposition you make to me is, I must confess, conformable to my inclinations, but not to the obligations of friendship which lie upon me; and you know I have a friend who hath suffered much upon the account of Elisa's love, and whose concernments I am obliged to prosecute. He for whom you have that goodness (replies Agrippa) is not more satisfied with the expressions he receius thereof, than he hath been troubled at the effects it hath produced, and he would not, to save his life, did it depend thereon, retard for so much as one day the happiness of those illustrious persons. In fine, my Lord, he hath conquered that passion which was so inconsistent with his glory and his duty, and with the assistance of his courage had reduced it to such a posture, as not to raise any further disturbance to his virtue. Consider not any thing somuch in order to his satisfaction, as the request he now makes to you for that of the Princess of Parthia, and give him leave to repair the injuries he hath done, by affording him the means to serve those whom he hath with so much injustice oppressed.  
The Emperor was extremely satisfied with this discourse of Agrippa, and embracing him with a tender affection; I cannot give you a greater commendation (said he to him) than in affirming you are still Agrippa, and that you discover the greatness of your soul no less in the conquest of your passions, then in reducing the enemies of the Empire. Whereupon turning to the Queen of Parthia, Madam (said he to her) you have heard the discourse of Agrippa, and accordingly, since his desires are so rational, it shall not be my salt if Artaban be not happy, and you satisfied. I crave your pardon for the trouble I have caused you upon an account which will in some measure oblige you to excuse it, when you shall understand it, and I hope you will not refuse me the friendship and alliance I intent to make with you before you leave our territories. Elisa's satisfaction was so great at this discourse of Augustus, that all her modesty was not able to smother it and the Queen, in whom her expressions of it were more allowable, made her acknowledgements to the Emperor in the most obliging terms she possibly could.  
In the mean time Coriolanus, Cleopatra and Mercellus were at the Empresses feet, to thank her for the favour she had done them, acknowledging themselves obliged to her for their enjoyments and lives; and though she looked on the credit of Marcellus with some jealousy, yet had she embraced him as her Son: assured Coriolanus that she could not forbear loving a person who had saved the Emperor's life; and said to Cleopatra, that since she was not willing to be her daughter by a marriage with Tiberius; she expected she would be, by the affection she would ever have for her. She told him further, that what Drusus had done for them should remit somewhat of the resentment they had against her, and which she was willing to pardon for their sakes and Antonia's.  
This past, the Emperor turned to the King of Scythia, and craved his pardon that he had been so backward to comply with his desires, entreating him to forget it, and continue his friend. While he was speaking to him, Octavia and her Daughters embraced, one while Cleopatra, another, Marcellus, and caressed them as persons returned out of the other world, and such as they had lamented as either dead or ready to suffer death. After those mutual embraces of the Sisters, Marcellus and Drusus did their submissions to Julia and Antonia; and if Marcellus observed in Julia a certain dissatisfaction that he had done that upon the account of friendship which he had never done upon that of love, Drusus on the contrary, read in the countenance of Antonia, that she was sensible in the highest manner that could be of what he had done for her Relations.  
These entertainments might well have taken up the whole day, but it was fit they thought of the besieged Princes and Queen Candace, for fear any thing should happen that might interrupt their joy. The Emperor immediately sent officers to draw off the forces that were about the Castle, and would needs have Marcellus, Coriolanus and Drusus go themselves with Mccenas, Domitius, and divers others, to conduct the Queen and Princes from the Castle to the Palace. They departed without anydelay, and their diligence was no more than needed for just as they were got before to the Castle, and that, according to the Emperor's orders, the Officers made way for them, the surious Artaban, and the valiant son of Cesar, with the three sons of Anthony, preferring the death they might receive from the points of their enemy's swords before starving, and encouraged by Queen Candace herself, who would not expect death behind dead walls, were letting down the draw-bridg to run desperately upon the first party they met with; and the terrible Artaban was already come over the bridge with a fury, which, notwithstanding their number, struck a terror in those who were first to oppose his passage, when the Princes his friends discovered themselves to him and his valiant companions, and they at the same time saw the Emperor's forces drawing off, according to the orders they had received. Artaban and Caesario made a halt, somewhat astonished at the sight, and Marcellus running to them, and embracing them with transportations of joy, acquainted them with the happiness of Goriolanus and their own, with a passion which satisfied them, that he was no less glad thereof than they might be themselves.  
Though the Princes entertained the news with that great courage which neither misfortune could abate, nor prosperity heighten, yet could they not but be sensible of such good fortune, but much more out of a respect to the Princesses they loved, than themselves; and if Cesario were glad to see his fair Queen escaped the death which had threatened her not long before, the son of Pompey could not without an excess of satisfaction understand that he was called to the enjoyment of Elisa, and that his fortunes were in such a posture as to defy all obstacles. Yet was there still one rub in his way, though inconsiderable in comparison of those he had overmastered; for assoon as the three Princes were gone out of the Palace-hall, and the noise which these great adventures had raised there a little abated, Tigranes came to the Emperor, and after he had made his complaints to him that he had bestowed Elisa on Artaban, without minding his interest, he entreated him not to do him the injustice, and to permit him to prosecute those hopes which some days before he had encouraged him to conceive. But the Emperor interrupting him at the beginning of his discourse, Tigranes, (said he to him) I advise you not to oppose any longer the fortune of of Artaban; the Queen would have him for her son, Elisa for her husband, the Parthians for their King, and you are not desired by any. You will find it no easy matter to overcome all these difficulties, though you were more powerful than you are; and besides, you are not disengaged of your promise to the Princess of Cappadocia, nor have decided the difference there is between you and the King her Brother, who, whether friend or enemy, is not to be slighted. Follow my counsel, endeavour your own quiet by performing your promise, and satisfying a Friend whom you are obliged to for you Crown; all will countenance you in that design, where as in the other you meet with opposition of all sides. To this discourse of the Emperor, Ariobarzanes, as also Alcameves, joining with them, represented so many things to Tigranes, that despairing the enjoyment of Elisa, he told him, that if Archelaus and Urania would forget the injury he had done them, and never urge it against him, he would make good his promise and marry Urania. The Emperor undertook for Archelaus, and having thereupon caused those two Kings to embrace one the other, he determined their differences, and settled that marriage, to the satisfaction of many persons, especially Philadelph.  
Things were thus far composed, when Queen Candace, Artaban, Cesario and their companions entered the Palace: Augustus went to meet them, and coming to Artaban first; Are you content to be my friend, (said he to him) if, to repair the injuries I have done you, I make you Possessor of Elisa and the Parthian Crown? Artaban, upon that discourse of the Emperor, doing his submissions to him; the two favours you prosfer me (said he) are above all hopes, there being no man in the world whose ambition the friendship of Caesar and enjoyment of Elisà were not enough to satisfy. Queen Candace presently after made her appearance, led by Julius Antonius, and after her Caesario, Alexander and Ptolomey. The Emperor came up to the Queen, and embracing her with much respect, You own too great a courage, (said he to her) not to pardon injuries; and upon that ground I am inclined to hope that you will forget what is past, and will not have an aversion for the relations of Caesario. My Lord, (replied the Queen) when you shall look on Caesario as one of your own blood, you will do him more justice than in treating him as your enemy; he shall entertain the former quality with respect, and I undertake for him he shall never deserve the latter. Augustus, instead of making her any answer, embraced Caesario, who having the same armour on wherein he had fought the day before, and which were the more remarkable for their magnificence and golden Eagles, the Emperor knew him to be that terrible Warrior under whose hands he had left his life, and he not been rescued by Coriolanus. That sight and reflection put him into a little fright, but stirred not his resentment against him; so that the Emperor having embraced him, Both the Queen, (said he to him) and the Princess Cleopatra promise me you will not remember our differences, and upon that hope I am willing to esteem you as the valiant Cleomedon, whose actions are so extraordinary, and afford you an affection such as may be expected by a son of my Father's. And as Cleomedon, (replied the Prince) and as Caesario, I shall ever observe the respect I owe Caesar, and never give either the Queen or my Sister any occasion to repent their engagement for me. That done, the Emperor entertained the three sons of Anthony, and assured them, that instead of being dissatisfied with their proceedings, he esteemed them the more, for the discoveries they had made of their courage and affection to their Relations.  
In the mean time was Artaban at the feet of Elisa, whose hands he kissed with transportations he was not able to moderate; and the fair Princess, who by the consent of the Queen might without any reservedness assure him of the affection she had for him, gave him accordingly assurances of it with all freedom, and satisfied him that he was happy beyond all his hopes. The Queen of Parthia embraced him as her son, and both acquainted him with much joy how the pretensions of Tigranes were terminated. Alexander had received from his Artemisa new expressions of an affection whereof he could no longer doubt: Ptolomey had beenwell entertained by Marcia; Cleopatra had been treated by Arsinoe, Olympia, Artemisa, whom she still looked on as her Sister, Ismenia, Andromeda, Urania, and all the rest, with all the discoveries they could make of their gladness at the change of her fortune: and Coriolanus, Artaban and Caesario had been entertained and caressed by Alcamenes, Ariobarzanes, Philadelph, Archelaus, and all the other illustrious persons that were in Alexandria, with all the demonstrations of a perfect friendship, insomuch that the three Princes knowing how highly they were obliged to them, as also what they had done, and intended to do, in order to their safety, made an acknowledgement thereof conformable to their generous intentions, All generally celebrated the generosity of Marcellus, all with a certain emulation bestowed their praises on him, and did him honour. Drusus received also in the commendations of that noble assembly the recompense of his gallant action; and that strange reciprocality of caresses, praises, acknowledgements and demonstrations of love and Friendship, between such great illustrious persons made the most delightful disorder, and most pleasant confusion in the world.  
It was not long ere that happy period of so many misfortunes was spread all over the City, with the Emperor's pardon to those who had taken up arms against him; and joy filled all places of that vast City in such manner, that it was no less remarkable there than among the persons most concerned in the happiness of that day. The Emperor entertained at Dinner all his proud Court, and at the end thereof declared that he would not leave Alexandria, till he had by their marriages put a period to the adventures of so many illustrious persons. Nay he would not consent their felicity should be deferred above three days, assigning that time to prepare all things for so great a solemnity. All provided for it with much satisfaction, and Caesar gave order for all things, suitably to his magnificence and grandeur, supplying the exigences of those Princes, who being forced to Alexandria upon strange adventures, were come thither without retinue or equipage, such as Coriolanus, Artaban, Ariobarzanes, Philadelph, and Arminius. Artaban made to Agrippa an acknowledgement of his generosity, and commended it so highly, that Agrippa, out of an excess of modesty disclaiming those commendations, craved his pardon for the traverses he had caused him, and protested to him, that had he not by reason of his sickness been kept in ignorance of what passed, he would with all his interest have opposed the unworthy treatment he had received. Yet could he not think of Elisa without sighing, and a sense of the violence he had done himself: But he hoped with the assistance of time and his reason he should absolutely subdue that passion, & in the interim, endeavoured what lay in his power to persuade the world his soul was absolutely free from it. The Emperor discovered to him his desires that he would marry his Niece Marcelia, since he had but one daughter, and that designed for Marcellus; and Agrippa seemed willing to submit thereto with much respect. The King of Mauritania reflecting on his obligations to the Empress, and having understood that Tiberius was not unwilling to see him; went to give him a visit with Livia and Drusus; and Tiberius, who was near recovered, and of an humour fit for any thing, received him without any discovery of resentment, though despair and other considerations made him quit his pretensions to Cleopatra, and not the conquest of a passion which he hoped not to overcome in many years. That night according to a motion of the emperor's, there met a magnificent assembly at Octavia's, whose house and relations were particularly concerned in the happy events of that day; and if that which had met at Julia's had been great, this excelled it, and was much different from the former, as well by reason of the presence of Coriolanus, Caesario, Marcellus, Julius Antonius, Arminius, and divers others who had not been at the other and were persons remarkable in an assembly; as that in this latter all persons were satisfied and that there was no lover who passed not away the evening with the person he particularly loved, even to Tigranes, who with some confusion renewed his addresses to Urania.  
There seemed to be some rub in the happiness of Philadelph by reason of the scruples of Arsinoe, who made some difficulty to marry him, though she infinitely loved him, before he were assured of his Father the King of Cilicia's consent, whom she knew to be much averse to the Alliance of Armenia; but as good fortune would have it, the next day after these great accidents had happened there arrived at Alexandria certain Deputies from the Kingdom of Cilicia, whose business it was to acquaint the Prince with his Father's death, and his being King of Cilicia; so that Philadelph having rendered to nature what might be expected from him, resigned himself absolutely to the embraces of his amiable Delia, and proffered her with his person the Crown which was then fallen to him. The Emperor made also some difficulty to bestow Ismenia on Arminius, as being Daughter to an Ally of the Romans, and one that mortally hated Arminius; conceiving he should not do an Ally such a displeasure, as without his consent to bestow his Daughter on his enemy; but Julia and Agrippa, who much concerned themselves in the enjoyments of those two Lovers, took away that obstacle, by obliging Arminius to make an Alliance with the Romans, and protest he would court that of Segestes, as of his Father. Arminius promised friendship and service to the Romans, Varus only excepted, who had made him a Gladiator, with whom he defied all reconciliation, and assured the Emperor that he would never engage in any War against his subjects, conditionally he would never send Varus into his country; which if he did, he would not undertake to lie quiet, but by all manner of ways Prosecute the aversion he had against that cruel enemy, who of a sovereign Prince had made him a Gladiator. Augustus' excused the earnestness of his resentment, and was content he should upon these terms marry Ismenia before he left Alexandria, assuring himself that he would engage Segestes s consent thereto. He had some intentions also to defer the marriages of Marcellus and Drusus till his return to Rome, where he would have them celebrated in the sight of the People of the City, with that of Agrippa, whose indisposition suffered him not to think so soon of marriage. But those two Princes cast themselves at his feet, and made it so earnestly their suit to him, that their felicity might not be deferred any more than that of all the rest, that at last he was content, and would honour the City of Alexandria with the marriage of his Daughter, as also with those of all the most considerable persons upon earth.  
But to what end should I spin out any longer the closure of these adventures? At last, after the impatient expectation of so many illustrious Lovers, the happy and so much desired day being come, the City of Alexandria saw the greatest solemnity that ever any City in the world did; and the Temple of Isis was made celebrious by the noblest assembly, and most important ceremony that ever had been seen in any age. There it was that the indissoluble knot was tied between Coriolanus or Juba, (for with a Crown he resumed the name of his Ancestors) and his divine Cleopatra, Artaban and the excellent Elisa, Caesario and Queen Candace, Marcellus and the Princess Julia, Drusus and the fair Antonia, the King of Armenia and his Olympia, Philadelph King of Cilicia and his amiable Delia, Alexander and Artemisa, the King of Capadocia and the virtuous Andromeda, the King of Media and Urania, and the valiant Arminius and his dearest Ismenia. Never certainly had the Universe seen so solemn a festival, never had so many Beauties appeared together before that glorious star which shed on them that fortunate and remarkable day; and never had there been such a Conjunction of Beauty, Love, Virtue, Valour, dignity and real worth, in one City, and in the same age. The City of Alexandria, prouder of the glory it had received that day then what it derived from its Founder, saw with joy the happiness of so many great Princes, who after so many traverses of fortune, found within its walls the sweet recompense of their sufferings, and met with the enjoyments of those Beauties for which they had sighed so much. Their felicity can better be conceived then represented, and more may be learned from Imagination then discourse. The Emperor deferred to be celebrated at Rome, with the marriage of Agrippa, that of Domitius with Agrippina, that of Ptolomey with Marcia, (though the young Prince discovered but little forwardness thereto) and that of Lentulus with his fair Tullia. As for Julius Antonius, whom the rigours of Tullia had made insensible of any amorous inclinations, he would hear nor talk of marriage; and it was a long time after that he married one of the Emperor's Nieces. Augustus with his own hands crowned Juba King of the two Mauritanias; Artaban received the Crown of Parthia from the hands of the Queen, Mother to Elisa; and Cesario that of Ethiopia from his fair Queen. The Emperor invested Alexander in a great part of Egypt with the City of Alexandria in sovereignty, dependent on the Empire; & left Petronius his Lieutenant in the rest of Egypt.  
The Kings of Parthia and Scythia solemnly confirmed the alliances which Alcamenes had proposed; the like was done with the Kings of Mauritania and Ethiopia, and since inviolably observed. What time these illustrious persons stayed afterwards in Alexandria was wholly spent in divertisements, magnificence, and confirmations of so many great and important Alliances. And when they were to separate, to resign their sovereigns to the Nations which expected their return, upon the same day, Augustus, with the Kings, Marcellus and all the Romans, took their way towards Rome, and all those great ones, with their fair comforts, went their several ways towards their Kingdoms, to govern and felicify the people under their jurisdiction. Their governments were excellent and flourishing, as we have received from the Historians of their times; but the design I have proposed to myself, not to exceed the limits of my scene, suffers me not to wait on them in their several travels homeward, nor to give my Readers any account of the glorious reign of Artaban over the Parthians; among whom, to comply with the desires of Elisa, he passed for the son of Artanez, and was content the world should believe him descended from Arsaces'; nor of that of Juba over the Moors, whom he governed with admirable lenity, and made dreadful to all Africa; nor that of Caesario over the Ethiopians, and the happiness of his fair Queen, whom many years after Heaven was pleased to illuminate from above, as we find in sacred Historians.  
Nor am I to say any thing of that of Ariobarzanes over the Arminians, of Philadelph over the Cilicians, of Archelaus over the Cappadocians, and those of so many other Nations that lived happily under their jurisdiction. In like manner must I be silent as to the marriages that were celebrated at Rome, the happiness and glory of Drusus, who not long after came into great reputation by his gallant actions; as also the consequences of the noble friendship between Marcellus and the King of Mauritania, which no doubt the world had heard much more of, had it not been soon after terminated by the death of that illustrious Roman; the marriage of Agrippa with Julia after the death of Marcellus; and the fulfilling of the predictions of Thrasyllus, by Tiberius' attainment of the Empire. I think I have done enough to bring so many illustrious Lovers into the Haven, after so many storms whereby their noble Lives were crossed, and to have (haply with success enough, considering the greatness of the undertaking) put a glorious and happy period to the adventures of my Cleopatra.   
The End of the twelfth and Last Part of CLEOPATRA.  
FINIS.