The Loves OF CHARLES DUKE of MANTVA; And of MARGARET Countess of ROVERA.  
Translated out of Italian.  
In the SAVOY, Printed for Henry Herringman at the Sign of the Anchor in the Lower-Walk of the New-Exchange. 1669.   

The LOVES of CHARLES DUKE of MANTVA; And of MARGARET Countess of ROVERA: A Translation out of Italian.  
THe Princess Mary remaining a Widow by the Death of the Prince her Husband, employed all her Art and Care in Governing the State, which we may yet call Hers; and used much Diligence in Choosing fit Ministers to assist Her in that Affair, during the Minority of her Son Charles, who was too young to meddle with Affairs of that Nature: I need not here undertake the description of that extreme tender affection which all the World observed in this Princess towards the young Duke; but will recommend it to those fond Women, who are Mothers of an only Son, and sole Heir to a great and Illustrious Family: The Caresses of this indulgent Mother were more powerful upon him, than all the Political, Scholastical, and Military instructions which he received every day from the different Masters of his Exercises. All the Ladies of the Court, to comply with the desires of the Duchess (whose greatest pleasure was, to see her Son won by those extraordinary Caresses,) and to delight themselves in the great satisfaction they every day took in discovering new graces in that little Prince, made it their whole study to please him, by carressing and embracing him even in their Arms; although he was already in an Age wherein Nature usually excites those motions which Love often produces. One day one of the Principal Senators of Mantua observing the Ladies that waited on the Duchess, & her Maids of Honour, were thus employed about this little Prince, could not refrain from saying aloud, That the State would have but an Effeminate Prince; in which, he proved no false Prophet.  
Amongst all the young Ladies that attended the Duchess, there was one born in the City of Casale, and was, by reason of her beauty, and good Meene, justly called, The Ornament of the Court, and delight of the Courtiers: The little Duke himself expressed a great inclination for her, and one may say much above what his tender years seemed to permit: but perhaps her name being Margaret, this young Prince believed he did nothing below himself, in admiring the Jewel, which is generally called the purest.  
The Princess, who was infinitely pleased with what ever her Son delighted in, recommended him particularly to this young Lady (not as to a Governess, her Age being almost equal, but only) to divert him in his hours of Recreation, which was truly to recommend the Cabbage to the care of the Kid, and to give the Sheep into the keeping of the Wolf: For, this young Lady looking upon this Employment as a good Fortune for her, and seeing very well that nothing was wanting in this young Prince but the Age to Govern, she so well applied herself to get his Favour, in making use of all those little Arts that usually takes young People, that in a little time it was easy to be observed, her Intentions were not so much to serve him as a Master, but to gain him for a Friend; and, to change the quality of Servant into that of his Mistress.  
The little Duke, who already began to take some other kind of delight in the Company of Ladies, then what little Children usually do, very easily sacrificed these First Fires of his Love, which were newly born in him, to this young and subtle Playfellow of his; who, on her side, was more and more inflamed with Love to this young Prince, by the great and particular kindness he expressed to her.  
In the mean time, whilst these two young hearts burn in a reciprocal Fire for one another, yet their years were so tender, that all their Pleasures consisted in Talking, and taking each other by the hand, and perhaps in some little stolen Kisses now and then: All the Diversions which the Duke found in the Court amongst the Ladies, being, either to pull down the Stool, when they were set to work, or else to fling their work into the fire, or sometime to steal a Kiss, or to jump into their Arms, and talk of Love, which he as yet but little understood. But Jealousy, which is so great a Courtier in the Palaces of all Princes, failed not to make an early visit to the Court of that young Duke, and was already got amongst all his little Playfellows, and began already to play the Tyrant in the Hearts of the young Ladies; and, chief amongst those who believed they merited the Duke's Favour most; if not in beauty, yet by reason of their great Birth, or in the Favour of the Duchess his Mother: yet, nevertheless, the Duke made still his greatest Court to Mademoiselle Margaret; and, she failed not to give him a return; and the more they perceived the envy of the other Ladies, who endeavoured to Cross them, the more powerful their Love grew to each other.  
It was one day told the Duchess, That her Son was so taken up with his love to Madamoiselle Margaret, that he would never make the Sign of the Cross with any Hand but Hers: but the Duchess rallying presently that Man which told her so, Answered him; Where there is no Malice, Love is sincere; Trusting to the innocent Childishness of such tender years, and not being able to imagine, that a young Child of nine years old (as he was) could have a Passion for a Girl of the same Age. The Mother of Mademoiselle Margaret lived also in this Court, and waited upon the Duchess, which was the reason of her daughters being there so young: This old Lady was so crafty, that she wanted nothing but Poetry to be that Corisco in the Pastor Fiao; the more she discovered signs of Love in the Duke to her Daughter, the more she instructed her in the Art to increase and manage that growing Passion; and Taught her the Art of making Love, which she understood in Perfection.  
In the mean time the Duchess beginning to think it now high time to withdraw her Son from the company of Women, amongst whom, he ordinarily, like other young Princes, passed away the best part of the day; she chose a Governor for him, prudent, and of approved integrity, and endowed with all necessary qualifications fit for a man that was to undertake so great an Employment as the Education of a young Prince. The Person she made choice of, as most fit, was the Marquis of Arrigony; who received this charge with all the demonstrations of Affection and joy imaginable; hoping, that his Services would in time render him very considerable in the Government, by the impressions he should make upon the spirit of this young Prince; but, it arrived quite contrary to his expectations.  
When the Duchess committed this young Duke unto the Care of the Marquis, she above all recommended to him three things: First, To Teach him all the Exercises of a Gallant Man with Mildness, that he might learn them with delight. Secondly, To be sure not to neglect the Finding out what he was chief inclined to, and most capable of; lest he should give him too hard a Lesson. Thirdly, And above all, not to force him to do any thing against his will, and was absolutely against his inclination; and to be sure to allow him his hours of Divertisements with the Ladies of the Court, and principally with Mademoiselle Margaret, who was chief acquainted with his Humour.  
To speak the Truth, these orders were not at all suitable to the Prudence nor Humour of the Marquis; who could not imagine to what end they were given him, seeing nothing in them extraordinary; besides, he was vexed within himself, to see, by that, the Princess looked upon him as a Man very unread in what belonged to the Government of a Prince: He Promised nevertheless to obey her Highness exactly, and not to be wanting in that fidelity which was so natural to his Family, and so particular to himself; yet he could not hold from saying, That he was very ready to serve his Master to his capacity; but, in his opinion, it would be better to disaccustome a little this young Prince from the company of Ladies, then to use him so much to their Conversation; since he could receive no Lessons from them but what were Effeminate, which was a thing very injurious to Princes: To which the Duchess replied; That the honest and lawful converse with Women taught great Men to Rule with gentleness; and that she desired nothing more in her Son, nor from himself. The Marquis having no more to say after that Declaration, made no Answers but of Protestations of obedience to her Highness in all things. After that the Duchess sent for the young Duke, and commanded him to look upon the Marquis as the guide of his Person and actions; and persuaded him to think it no trouble to follow the Advises of a Man, who would inspire no Sentiments into him but those of his Glory and advantage.  
The Marquis having paid his Respects and Acknowledgements to the Duchess, retired himself till the Apartment ordered for him was made ready: In going out of the Hall he met with Mounsieur Pianezza a Friend of his, and his particular Confident, to whom he related his new happiness in the Duchess' Favour; withal, telling him the particular Orders he received from her concerning the Education of the young Duke, not forgetting a word of all had passed, especially that passage which concerned of the young Duke's Recreations amongst the Ladies of the Court: Pianezza judging this Order not very agreeable to the Marquis, whispered to him very softly; Monsieur, Be you sure to tie the Ass where the Master bids you, and let the Wolves eat it if they please.  
The Marquis answered, smiling; I am too Old to make use of opportunity; and too Young to serve the Amours of another.  
Madamoiselle Margaret, who knew the humour of the Marquis was more inclined to Rigour, and Duty, then of Compliance, would not have been troubled to have seen the Education of her young Duke committed to any other than he; though it is certain she was too young to make this distinction of herself, but that she was instructed by her Mother. Now it happened one day, that this young Lady meeting with the Duke and the Marquis together, she said (without doubt, by the Instructions of her Mother) Sir, I am extreme glad to see the Choice the Duchess has made of you for the Conduct of our Prince; for certainly, it could have been committed to no person in the World so fit as yourself; whose merit is so universally esteemed, and 'tis likely to be most profitable for his Highness' advantage. The Marquis guessing from whence this Compliment came, and that her Mother had taught her what to say, could not refrain from Laughing a little; and taking her by the hand, acknowledged her Favour by all the expressions he could think of: taking very much delight in the discourse of that young Lady, who, to say truth, besides her other extraordinary beauties, was very agreeable in her discourse.  
Another time, meeting her in the Court of the Palace, she told the Marquis, almost Laughing; Now the Prince is so much yours, we can be allowed no part in him: The Marquis also Laughing, and putting his hand upon her Face, answered her; My pretty little Lady, the Duke is too young to be yours, therefore you ought not to be angry that he is so much mine: Thereupon the young Duke taking Mademoiselle Margaret's side, answered presently, I will be theirs that will be mine; Would you have me be yours? The young Lady only answered with a low Curtsy, and a Look, which showed the desires and sentiments of Her heart.  
Some few Months after that, the Marquess being Declared Governor, and the Duke of Parma being to pass through that Country to go to Venice, the Duchess, although he intended to make that Voyage Incognito, failed not to send the Marquis, at all adventures to meet him, with her young Son the Duke; and the Duchess desiring, that he should be received in passing by, with all the Honours imaginable, though he intended not to be known: The Complimental dispute between these two Princes at this Ceremonious Interview, kept them so long in the hot Sun in the Fields, that the young Duke received no little trouble by the heat which is so ordinary there in the Month of June: In the mean time all things having pleased the Duke of Parma very much in this meeting, and the young Duke returning home, he fell into a little Fever, accompanied with so great a pain in his head, that it was the trouble of the whole Court, especially the Duchess, who was most sensibly afflicted; no Remedies imaginable for his distemper were omitted, yet nevertheless they did no good, for the Fever and extreme pain in his head rather increased; although Mademoiselle Margaret, whose grief was equal to her tenderness, stirred not from his Bedside; laying her hand sometimes upon his head, which was no small pleasure and ease to the young sick Prince. The Duchess his Mother, who was almost every day coming and going to his Chamber, to inquire of his condition, ask him one day, How he did? he answered her boldly; Madam, ever since Madamoiselle Margaret has touched my head, I have scarce felt any Pain. It was not very difficult for the Mother to believe her Son, from the observation she had already made of his Love to that young Lady, and therefore she said to him, Well, my son, she shall be put to bed to you, if the Marquis your Governor will approve of it; He will not approve of it, (replied the young Prince) because he does not know my disease: I do know it said the Marquis, (who was not very far off) and I know that your sickness has need of a remedy.  
During this sickness of three or four days the hearts of this Pyramus, and of this This be inflamed extremely, but in a way very natural and conformable to their age, which did not yet allow them any other thoughts but what were innocent; This young Lady, who was not less interessed in the repose of the Prince than of his health, stirred not from his bedside from morning until night, with a Fan in her hand to drive away the Flies, which in that Country ordinarily torments the sick.  
He being at last recovered from this fit of sickness, applied himself anew to his exercises, though with little inclination or profit; The Marquis saw very well that the love which this young Prince had for this Madamoiselle Margaret grew up with him, and that his desires of profiting in Learning those things more fit for his Study (without which a Prince loses his best ornament) diminished every day as he grew older, which was a most sensible affliction to the Marquis, who took all the pains imaginable about him.  
One evening after Supper the Duchess walking in her Garden with the Marquis, she asked him the reason why her son made so slow a Progress in those exercises he had learned, as well Military as others, and wondered that at 14 years of age as he was then, there was nothing at all extraordinary to be observed in him. The Marquis fancying the astonishment the Duchess had put on was a reproach to his diligence and affection both, was very much piqued, and a little mortified, nevertheless without discovering his resentments; Me thinks, Madam, said he, if I may have leave to say so to your Highness, that your Speeches are very much altered from your declared opinion to me that minute your Highness was pleased to give me that honourable employment of Governor to the young Duke your son; For, I remember you commanded me then, to instruct him in all things with mildness and moderation, and now your Highness wonders why I have not forced his nature, and his strength. I confess, Madam, I scrupled nothing more than disobeying your Orders, but to deal ingeniously with your Highness, I must tell you this truth, that if my affection to him and my cares had not roused him a little, and almost constrained him to apply himself to those exercises the most necessary for him, that he would this day be more ignorant than he is; although whatever he possesses appears very inconsiderable to your Highness, the Duke can sit very well, and has a very becoming grace on horseback, he has often run at the ring and won the Prize, to the shame and confusion of the most experienced Cavaliers in that exercise, he is not very unskilful in his Arms, and for his Dancing, certainly your Highness can better judge of that than I: it is true he has but little inclination to the French and Latin Tongues, nevertheless he understands the one, and gins to speak the other; but if your Highness will permit me to speak my opinion, I must tell you if that Mademoiselle Margaret were made tutor to the Prince, or were the only thing he were to study, he would without all question profit much better than he does. For he spends more time in making love to this Lady, than he allows to his Lessons: whilst the Duchess and the Marquis were in this discourse, the young Duke came into the walk, and the Duchess immediately asked him, if it were true that the Marquis said; to which he suddenly made answer without examining what it was, that it was a thing impossible for him to answer a demand upon the sudden of a thing he was ignorant of; the Duchess would have pressed him further, but that minute she received Letters of great concern from Venice which she read, and communicated them to the Marquis as she was wont to do all Papers of public business. In the mean time the young Duke's affection for Madamoiselle Margaret increased every day, and grew faster than he; he adored and respected her, and he did not seem to live when he was absent from her, though but a moment, every one knows there is no Lady in the Court so Fair, nor so cruel, whom interest and ambition does not soften, to gain the love of their Prince, nay, the very men of Quality, the most considerable amongst the Courtiers often shut their eyes and serve their Prince, near those of their own Relations; certainly there never was a Prince so passionately desired by the Ladies as this Duke Charles; he was often treated by many great men, to no other end but to show him their wives, or their Daughters, but to their great disappointment, because this Prince looked only modestly upon them, his love to Madamoiselle Margaret made him neglect all others, looking upon none but her with tenderness and love, and often protested he would not change her for all the Fairest Ladies in the Universe.  
And now this young Duke is arrived to his eighteenth year of age, I will call him no longer the little Duke. This Duke than went often into the Chamber of Madamoiselle Margaret's mother, where he was always flattered and carress'd, nay, the mother herself shut him up sometimes with her daughter, and left them alone upon the bed playing together, carrying the Key away in her Pocket. One day the Duke going to walk, perhaps with design, in the Palace Garden, he met the mother and her daughter walking alone in the wood, the Duke no sooner approached them then he cried, Mademoiselle have a care in coming so often into this wood you are not ravished. The mother (who was the craftiest woman in the world) answered him presently, So she is ravished by a Prince, there will be no great hurt; but the Prince replied as quickly, You had better let her give the Favour to a Prince, then stay till he force it: It is true, said the mother, but Favours gained that way are more sweet and secret. The Prince in the mean time took the young Lady by the hand to walk with him in the wood, whilst the mother returned to the Palace very well pleased to leave her daughter in such good company, who stayed three hours together in that place, none knows what they did: But after they had taken their walk the Prince waited upon Mademoiselle Margaret to her mother's chamber, to whom he said, Here, Madam, take your daughter which I restore you in the same condition you left her with me. I believe what you say, Sir, answered she, because you are a Prince.  
From that day Madamoiselle Margaret began to take upon her, and show some kind of Empire over the Duke, and the Prince found no inclinations in himself to resist her. The Duchess appeared indifferent, and did not seem displeased at their Friendship, imagining that the Duke was obliged one way or other to divert his youth, and she was the more willing to allow him this Friendship with Madamoiselle Margaret, because she was well acquainted with her disposition, and believed she would not engage the Duke into any disordered way of life perjudiciable to his Person or Fortune, and so while all this past, she shut her eyes, and took no notice at all, and though one day she hide herself to watch their actions, yet she could discover nothing between them but testimonies of a Friendship which reason allows of.  
But since the Love of these two persons was become the general discourse, the Duchess consulted many times very seriously with the Marquis Arigone, who very fare from approving this too violent inclination, as many others did, who were well enough oleased to let the Duke freely pursue his inclinations: He on the contrary, forgot nothing, to let them see they ought to have prevented him: the Marquis was pressed on by these reasons;  
In Mantua there dwelled a widow that was one of the most considerable women of that place, who was mother to one of the most fair and agreeable young Ladies of all that State. This woman who was not very rich in worldly goods, suiting herself to her fortune, lived only in the quality of a Gentlewoman, and not like a great Lady; The Marquis, who had a passionate kindness for her, let no occasion pass of diverting his melancholy hours at her house, and as she was not very cruel to him, she granted him willingly those Favours that Love demands, without expecting interest, imagining that the Marquis, who was naturally very grateful, would not fail, for the Mother's sake, who granted him all things, to serve the Daughter to his Highness the Duke; and this opportunity pleased the Marquis very well, of showing himself grateful to the kind Widow, in procuring the Love of the Duke for her Daughter, and also of testifying his Affection to his Prince, in bringing to him one of the most Accomplished young Women amongst his Subjects; but, since he feared it a thing impossible to do, so long as this passion of the Dukes to the Lady Margaret continued; he tried all ways to stifle it, but unprofitably; because the Duke was so insensible for all other Women, as well Maids as Wives, that neither the handsome nor ugly worked any effect upon him; for he used them both so indifferently, they had no reason to be jealous of one another: The Lady Margaret was the only Favourite, and the most loved; and what beauty soever happened to be in the Duke's presence, he had eyes for none but she.  
One day the Marquis imagining that it was impossible for the Duke to see that fine young Lady of his Acquaintance, and not fall in love with her, carried him to her Mother's house, who had invited him to that purpose; and had spared for no Cost, nor Ornament, to set off the Beauty of her Daughter, but all was to no purpose: and though the Marquis and the Mother left this young Lady and the Duke alone two hours together in a Chamber, the Duke sat by her, as if she had not been there, without speaking one obliging word to her: The insensibility of this Duke was as a Dagger to the heart of this young Lady; and, in truth, What is more vexatious to a Woman, then to see, that all the arts she has used to gain a heart signify so little in the end. The Marquis quickly perceived, that the Duke was not very well pleased in the place where he had brought him; therefore in returning home to the Palace, he begun to praise her extremely; the Duke, although he seemed to take no notice, and yet nevertheless forced by the Marquis to speak of that Lady's Beauty he came from, said to the Marquis, My Lord, This Lady is fair enough for you, who sees her every day, but not for me, who never saw her before, and looks not upon her so often as you do: The Marquis replied, Your Highness must then see her often, that you may think her fairer than now you do: The Duke answered smiling, If I should see her once more, certainly I should think her more ugly than I do now. The poor Marquis was mad at this, and especially when the Duke, whilst they were talking, turned about and showed him the Lady Margaret, who they met in the Street; See there, my Lord Marquis, said he, there is the fairest amongst all that are fair.  
Whilst these things past, the Duchess growing angry, to see her Son so far gone in Love with the Lady Margaret, carried by some unknown Politic reasons, and perhaps at the earnest Solicitations of the Marquis, sent the Mother and the Daughter away to Casal, yet with all the Civility imaginable, and with a particular Promise to Marry her very suddenly, as indeed it happened soon after: The Duke expressed no great signs publicly of resentment for her going away, hiding his trouble, without all doubt, very prudently, to take all suspicion from the Court: Till then, it was believed by most, that nothing but virtue had passed between this Lady and the Duke; but others, that looked nearer into the business, and could see farther into matters of Love, believed the contrary; not being able to imagine, how Virtue could subsist with so great a Liberty: and that a young Girl, who desired nothing more than the heart of a Prince, could refuse him any thing. The Duke certainly was not without desires, nor the young Lady without a good will; the youth of them both, and the great liberty allowed them, gave strange causes of suspicion: In fine, believe who will, that all their time was spent in saying their Chapelets, and their Pater-nosters, for my part I never will.  
Some time before the parture of the Lady Margaret, the Duke had many long and private Conferences with her, where there wanted no Tears on both sides at that cruel separation, as a Waiting-Woman observed; he could not forbear promising to Write to her, till he had the opportunity of going to visit her at Casal, which he gave her his Word should be very suddenly: These Protestations of the Dukes raised her Heart a little, which was so sunk with the Fears and Troubles of a cruel Absence she was to suffer, and gave he courage to ask his Highness a word or two under his Hand, every month at least; which Favour she demanded of him in these Words; If your Highness will please to Write to me once every month, it will give me every day a Paradise: The Duke embracing her, said, with all the tenderness of a passionate heart, go, and believe, that nothing in the World shall ever be capable to carry me from loving you.  
She was scarce arrived at Casal, but the Duke writ a Letter to her, as well for his own satisfaction, as for the contentment of her he Loved, it was thus;  
MARGARET,  
My Heart;  
THis is the first Letter which I writ to you, with one of those Pens that are guided by Love; I address to you, whom I alone adore, as the only and first object of my Love: To tell you how sensible I am of your absence, you must a●ke this Heart, which thinks more of you, then of itself; I do not swore it to you; the Words of Princes needs no Oaths to Authorise them: however, I shall give you such proofs, that you yourself will not desire greater. Let me know the success of your Voyage, and the state of your Health since you went from hence, and whether you Love him that is wholly your  
CHARLES.  
This Letter was given in charge to a Post that was sent from Court to the Governor of Casal, with express Order to give it to no other hands but she to whom it was directed: The Joy of this young Lady was so extraordinary in receiving it, that she read it three or four times over in the presence of the Man that brought it; and every time with a Face overjoyed, to that extremity she seemed to him, she would have eaten it, that so her heart might have been the Cabinet to preserve it. The Mother was not at home when her Daughter was thus entertaining the Post, and examining him with great concern of the Duke's health, and chief of his Employments; and whether he did not particularly Visit some Lady or other with great Familiarity: but, in these Questions to him, she seemed not to understand what she did, for a Man of that condition, that sees the Court but at a distance, is not to be asked such Questions: But, it is true, she was at that time to be pardoned, since the occasion of that Letter was enough to put her into extraordinary transports for him she Loved. The Mother being returned, gave order for something for the Post to eat, whilst in the mean time she read over and over again with her Daughter the Duke's Letter, and consulted together for the Answer, which they returned by the same Messenger, in these words;  
Great PRINCE;  
To tell your Highness how much comfort your Letter gave me, is impossible for me to express; I could not defend myself from vanity, in reading so many proofs of Affection from your Highness' Goodness: if I were not well acquainted with the nature of it, which is indulgent to all those who like me, Courts with a most humble Respect all opportunities of obeying your Highness' Commands. It will not be hard for you to ●nd amongst your Subjects a Merit above mine; but, I Question very much if your Highness can find any more affectionate to your Service then I am: I ●ave already Sworn to you all the Fidelity and Service can be expected from a Person of my Sex. It belongs to your Highness to command, and me to obey; ●et my Fears tell me, that you do not so often think of Commanding me, as I do ●f Blindly Obeying you. As for the Account you are Graciously pleased to desire of my Journey hither, I assure your Highness, it had been very pleasant and happy for me, if every step I made to Casal had not carried me from what I left behind at Mantua, so dear to me: Your Highness asks me if I love you; How can you believe it possible to be so ungrateful, not to love a Prince that love me. I will say nothing more, but that ● am and will be, to your Highness, Great Prince,  
A most Humble, and Obedient Servant, Margaret.  
The Dukes of Mantua had a Custom, of going three or four ●…mes every year to Casal, to Visit that place, so considerable, for its Situation, and because it is the Capital City of Montferrat: The Duke resolved for the future to make that place his ordinary residence; carried more by his Love to the Lady Margaret, then for Interest of State: And none can express with what repugnance he quitted that Town to go to Mantua, when at any time the necessity of his Affairs called him thither; yet he endeavoured to conceal the true reason of his stay so much in that place, by pretending the Air was so much better; saying often, That the Air of Mantua was an Air for Monks to dwell in, but that of Casal was an Air for the Seat of a Prince: And, in truth, he was very much in the right, when he spoke so of those two places, so contrary to each other; for the Air of Casal was extraordinary good, and that of Mantua had nothing at all commendable in it: though, 'tis true, the Air where Princes reside purifies admirably. All Affairs the Duke took in hand at Mantua prospered very ill; but, on the contrary, it seemed that Casal was Fortunate to all his Enterprises: There was scarce a day but the Duke complained of some Indisposition or other whilst he was at Mantua; his Head, his Stomach, and I know not how many more Infirmities tormented him, or at least he pretended it: but, when he was at Casal, he never made the least complaint of any thing, whether he had cause or not; but, if it happened, that some Fits of an Ague, Fever, or any distemper seized upon him at Casal, he would lay the fau● upon his having stayed too long at Mantua.  
The Dukes of Mantua have a Palace near to Casal, called the Margaret whether they have always been accustomed to divert themselves some time of the Summer; and there was a Physician in Mantua, who, being pretty well acquainted with the temper of the Duke, and the inclination he had for the Lady Margaret, understood very well, that all these Distempers the Duke so often complained of at Mantua, had no other cause but an Amorous Fever; and therefore he failed not to advise the Duke to visit often that wholesome Air of Casal: And whilst the other Physicians were searching out the cause of the Duke's disease, and busying their heads to find a remedy, this wise happy brother of theirs advised the Air of Margaret as the only place of Cure for his Highness, and was well rewarded for his pains by the Duke, whose delight at Casal you may easily imagine was great, and h●● health perfect. The satisfaction o● going to Casal, and leaving Mantua, was plainly discovered in the different Journeys he made, in going and returning between those two places; by the hast he made to the one, and the slow pace he went towards the other: to Mantua he went with a Tortoises pace, and to Casal he flew as fast as an Eagle: Whensoever his Important Affairs obliged him to go from Casal to Mantua, he Travelled like a Prince; but, when he was to leave Mantua, and go towards Casal, he went in Post. The Pastimes of the Duke were not very great, nor divertizing to the Court, for his greatest pleasure was in visiting the Lady Margaret, in whose Company his most delightful hours were spent; and it was no great difficulty for a young Prince to entertain himself very pleasantly with a young handsome Woman, instructed by an old cunning Mother; who, in her youth, had at one time obliged more than four several French Gentlemen, whilst they stayed at Casal. The house of this Lady was not far from the Castle, in one of the fairest Streets of the Town, in which place the Tennis Court was kept; the Duke, who hated Tennis when he was at Mantua, took great delight in it at Casal; perhaps to show his Mistress his address; but, he spoiled his own design: For, he not being able to take his Eyes from the Window where she was, he hardly struck one Ball of three. It was no small diversion to the spectators, to see those two Lovers speak with their Eyes and Hands, and use a thousand other pleasant Gestures, in that place, where there was constantly more persons assembled to observe them, then to see the good play of those that were at Tennis: In the mean time jealousy seized furiously upon all the Ladies in that place; but, amongst them all, it chief laid hold of a young Woman whose name was Nata, Grandchild to the Precedent; she almost died with envy at the Duke's Courtship to the Lady Margaret, believing herself much handsomer than her Cousin the Lady Margaret; and had great desires (at least) to share with her in the Duke's Affection: and her Grief increased the more from the vexation she had, to see, that all her Beauty and Ornaments had not power enough to draw one kind look from his Highness, for whom she had dressed herself to no purpose. The Duke never went to Play, but by his dearly Beloved Margaret's command, his ●innen was always brought to her House; he scarce touched the Ball three times, but away he must go to shift himself in her Chamber, leaving the rest of the Players at Tennis, sometimes three hours, to wait till he came down to make an end, which he sometimes commanded them to do. A French Gentleman happening to be in the Tennis Court one day, was by chance on the Duke's side, who was gone up, as his Custom was, to the Lady Margaret; this Frenchman, impatient (as those of his Nation commonly are) at the Duke's giving so long a time to rub himself, fell into a passion, and said publicly to one of his Comrades; If the Duke of Mantua must (as is reported) have the Command of the Imperial Army for the King of Spain, Lombardy will quickly be ours; for he takes up more time in changing his Shirt, than the French do in taking a Town.  
There was no body but plainly saw this so often changing of Linen was rather a pretence of the Dukes, than necessity; nothing moving him to run up to her Chamber, but some Amorous fancy, which the sight of her at the Window awakened in him; and there was great reason to believe it, for she never stirred out of the Balcony as long as the Prince was in the Tennis Court; but, immediately vanished when he went out to go to her Chamber; and, assoon as he was got into the Street, to return to his Play, she appeared in the Balcony again: which, discovered easily, that he sought no pleasure, but that, of being near his Goddess; and she gloried in nothing more, then to let the People see, she had been giving him his Shirt.  
In the mean time the Mother of this young Lady, and also the Duke, begun seriously to think, of finding out a Match for this beloved Margaret, who wanted no pretenders, her power being so great with the Duke; who, in this design, to Marry her, intended not so to rid himself of her, whom he loved passionately: Nor did the old Mother resolve so to lose her; but, they took this way, to disguise those shameful effects, which usually follow these kind of dishonest Passions, as it ordinarily happens in Italy, where the Husband often serves for a Cover: For, an unmarried Woman, though she is Courted by a Prince, is looked upon in that Country as infamous, if she entertain him; But on the contrary, let a Married Woman be never so impudent, she is nevertheless very well received amongst all Ladies of the greatest quality.  
The Family of this Lady Margaret had been so blasted by the abominable carriage of her Mother with the Frenchmen, and the Spaniards; her eldest Sister particularly, whose name was the Countess Lovize, lately a Widow, had been notorious, and had lived the life of a common Courtesan, taking Money of any body; living that kind of life, which is so much practised amongst those Women, so well known by Travelers; she fell in love with a Frenchman, who came off better cheap, and almost for a simple Grand Mercy; he being, as one may say, more Courted by that young Widow, than he ca●… for, which made her fall into strange disorders, when he was forced to retu●… into France with the French Army, i● which he was an Officer, and left that poor disconsolate Widow to re-take that habit of Mourning she had so lately quitted; and, it is believed, she had remained unconsolable, if the Frenchman's place had not been kindly taken up by a young Earl in Casal; but, what was most remarkable, was this Countesses flattering herself with the hopes of Marrying this young Earl, by the Credit her Sister had with the Duke, and his Authority; she gave him all the Liberties imaginable, and they lived together like Man and Wife, with so public a Scandal, that the Bishop intended to Excommunicate them, but was soon prevented from that trouble; for, the young Earl at last cloyed with the Embraces of that Lady, and weary of her Addresses, began to leave her off by little and little; which, the Countess perceiving, addressed herself to her Sister, desiring her to persuade the Duke, to Command the Earl to Marry her; which, when the Duke went about to do, the young Earl briskly answered; Sir, The Earls of Casal do not use to Marry Whores: Thus this poor abused Countess sought her satisfaction in her patience, and tried no more that vain attempt, of Marrying the Earl by the Duke's Authority and Justice, as her Sister encouraged her to hope; for the Earl Swore, he would rather a thousand times die a Man of Spirit, then live a base Cuckold: So the Countess seeing Force would do her no good, employed Mildness and Caresses to gain him; but the Earl being well acquainted with the Crafts of Women, used his opportunities, took some times his pleasure, and derided Matrimony: Nevertheless the Lady Margaret had pretenders good store, who were drawn more by their Ambition, because of the Empire she had over the Duke, then by any other Motive; whilst she minded nothing more than the enjoying her pleasures at full liberty which she could only do by getting a Husband quickly; but a Husband of her own choosing, fit for the purpose; that is to say, a good honest Man, and one as the Italian says, Un gran cog, etc.— The Mother and Daughter both jumped in this opinion; the Mother fearing, that if her Daughter should chance to fall into the hands of some Fantastic Husband, she might lose all her authority over her; and they both together feared, that his ill humour might be the occasion of ruining her Favour with the Duke, and so they should be quite undone, and lose all their hopes. The Duke also was mindful of his own interest in that Affair, and consented not to the Marriage of his Mistress but upon those terms; choosing rather to possess her in that condition she was already, then lose her in another. The Duchess, on her side, considering the Interest of State, the conservation of the House of Gonzague, and for the general satisfaction of her Subjects, looking upon the Duke as the only prop of her Family, desired, and sought nothing more than to see this Lady Margaret Married away; fearing, lest the Duke might, losing himself in this extreme ridiculous Love for her, think of Marrying her himself: At that time there came to Casal the Earl o● Rovera, a man made for their purpose, and made as such a man should be; he he was born at Savona, and descended from that noble Family of Rovera, which has given to the Church those two famous Popes Sixtus the fourth, and Julius the second. The humour of this Lord was very peaceable and retired, not caring to see any body but those of his old acquaintance. In fine, he was a true Ball for these Ladies to toss, and such a one as the Duke, the mother and daughter all desired; and to speak him in one word, he was of a humour to let them do what they pleased, and go were they had a mind to; and though he was not a man of great Learning, yet he was for all that, a man of very good sense, and his wit was capable of serving him better than his Language.  
The design of this Earl had been to pass his Life in a single condition, if the solicitations of the Duke, and the Lady Margaret (who was resolyed not to let slip this occasion) had not altered his resolutions, and from the first day he made her a visit, put him into a condition of not being able to live one day without seeing her: Whilst they were treating of this marriage, the Lady Margaret, to try whether the Earl were of a jealous humour; pretended one day (as he sat musing by himself in her Chamber) that the Duke had sent for her to play at Cards with him, so that she should be obliged to stay there with her mother till the next day; and to persuade the Earl absolutely to be lief the Duke loved her passionately, She told him, That the Duke loving her as he did, she could do no less than to satisfy him in all things that depended upon her: but the Earl not understanding her, or at least, pretending not to know her meaning, only answered, She would do very well to serve his Highness, and so went away.  
One of the nearest kindred to the Earl, hearing of this intended marriage, went to him with design to speak freely to him concerning it as a Friend, and told him, he ought to think more than once upon what he was going to do, and that he should seriously consider, (before he proceeded any further) upon the love between the Duke and the Lady Margaret; but the Earl answered, Matrimony will break that Friendship. That same Friend of his endeavoured to prove the contrary to him by a hundred reasons, but could get no other answer from him (after he had thanked him kindly for his advice) but this, The horns that are grafted by a Prince do not sit heavy upon the head. Two days after another of his Friends told him openly, that for his part he would not marry that young Lady for any thing in the world, because that as long as the Duke lived, he could not refrain from being jealous, and should assuredly die a Cuckold. This second advice amazed the Earl a little, yet he said only that he believed nothing of all these reports. In the mean time this renewed advice wrought such an effect, that he went not to see his Mistress in two days, but love being stronger, he could not refrain from visiting her again, so great was his desire to marry her and make her his dear half.  
The Duke seemed to take no notice of all these Passages, (though they made a noise great enough,) but waited till the Earl spoke to himself about it, which he at last did, at the solicitation of the mother, who let him know that her house had been always protected by his Highness, and her daughter in particular, to whom the Duke had always expressed much friendship, and she could do nothing without his Highness' consent and approbation. The Earl answered her presently, That all Gentlemen were as much obliged to this duty, and that they were not wont to marry without they were certain of the Prince's assent, and therefore it was his duty to do the same thing; after this reply he parted from her to go to the Duke, that old Lady having promised him to do the like in behalf of her daughter. The Earl had scarce began his compliment to the Duke concerning his marriage with the Lady Margaret, when the Duke interrupted him to speak to him advantageously of her Family and her Person, assuring the Earl of his affection and protection in all things; and to let him see how much he approved of this marriage, he told him with a great demonstration of love, that he was certain that one or both could not but be happy, since it was impossible for him to find a more excellent woman nor more worthy of such a husband, nor for her to find a husband more worthy of such a wife. The Earl after he had paid his respects and deserved thanks to the Duke, said to him, I marry the Lady Margaret, because she is protected by your Highness. To which the Duke presently replied, laughing, We will love the Lady Margaret, and we will love her until death, having been brought up together from the beginnings of our life. The Duke after he had discoursed a long time with the Earl concerning the particularities of this wedding, took him by the hand, and said to him, Go, my Lord, you will gather a Flower, worthy of such a Rovera. My Tree (said the Earl) wants a Flower which comes from the hands of your Highness. This marriage then concluded to the satisfaction of the interested parties, they received all the Compliments, and made their Balls and Feasts a la mode de France, which had been masters of Casal more than fifteen years, and had so well established the French Liberty in that Town to the delight of the inhabitants, that they resolved to keep it for ever; and it is certain, that if they were to change their master, they would accept of no other but the most Christion King; so well do they remain satisfied with the French Nation, which is a thing extraordinary in Italy, where they are commonly so much hated, though the Italians can give no reason for their aversion to those People: For it is most certain, that in those Places of Italy where any of the French inhabit, they bring in one month more profit to that place, than the Spaniards afford them in ten year. The Duke, although invited to this wedding could not resolve upon any consideration, to see his Lady Margaret given away, to whom he writ this Letter.  
My Heart,  
IF I thought that thy Marriage would deprive me of those Privileges I have hitherto enjoyed with thee, for certain I should rejoice very little at it, but I do rejoice, because I assure myself thou marriest with a resolution to give thy Husband but the leave of our love: heretofore we have been forced to do all things secretly to hid them from all the world; but from this day we shall find it more easy to conceal our actions from only one man; give him the appearances, but do thou be sure to keep thy heart for me, and remember that I am wholly thine,  
Charles.  
The Duke let slip no occasion of being present at all the Balls that were presented to the Bride in several places; and one day he was in a dress that disguized him so much, that he had never been discovered but by his great Familiarity with the Bride. The Duke having taken notice of a Diamond upon the Bridegroom's finger in the fashion of a Heart, which himself had given his Lady Margaret, when she was a maid, and was esteemed worth a thousand Crowns, was so extremely angry to see the Earl wear it, that he resolved to go away from Casal without speaking to her, but she having smoked him, used all her endeavour to appease him, and bring him back again, protesting he was in a mistake, to believe she had given that Ring to her Husband, which she esteemed so much for his Highness' sake, as the pledge of his affection, that it was more dear to her than any thing in the world. The Duke softened by her tears, dried them up, not with a handkerchief, but with his kisses, and after that stayed in her Chamber with her for some hours that day.  
The wedding was kept with so great pomp and magnificence, that there wanted nothing but the public presence of the Duke, who though he refused to appear there in person, yet to show how much he honoured them, he sent the Bride a Medal of gold, in which was a Daizy, (which signifies Margaret) set round with twelve Diamonds, and two Chains of great value, which he accompanied with this note,  
I advise thee to be cautions in the captivating thyself, and consider, if thou art a prisoner to two persons, it will not be easy to cheat both thy keepers.  
The love of the Duke to the Countess seemed after this wedding to grow by little and little something cool, but it was but a feigned coldness: For he often found his opportunities of entertaining her in private during his stay at Casal. The Earl used all the art he was capable of to surprise his wife in her private conferences with the Duke, but in vain; so that at last he began to believe she had been slandered, and so rested in peace, giving her all kind of Liberty; who had wit enough to make the fight use of it, and contented the Husband in public, and the Gallant in private; but since now the Time and Necessity of the State seemed to demand a Successor to the Duke, so to conserve that rich Patrimony still in the same House where it had long continued, and there being no other branch left of the house of Gonzague but himself; The whole State begun now to think in good earnest of marrying him to some Princess worthy of so great a Prince, many matches were proposed, but heaven, that ordinarily takes care of making marriages, ordained the Archduchess Isabel Clare, a Princess worthy of a Crown, to be this Duke's wife, and should by her Life and Patience add a new lustre to the house of Gonzague; some other woman perhaps would have brought the same disorder into that house (and it may be a worse) than that which the house of Lorraine experimented in the love which the Duke Charles of Lorraine expressed for the Countess of Cantecroy, to the prejudice of that affection which he owed to his wife Nicola. The Duchess, who notwithstanding all the indifferency which she saw in her husband towards her, she expressed not the least jealousy of the Countess, and although she saw in a little time her husband absolutely estranged from her, and engaged altogether in the love of that woman, yet she looked no less kindly upon the Duke her husband, even whilst the Countess endeavoured to keep him from her by all the ways possible, having writ this Letter to him, notwithstanding she knew his Marriage with the Duchess was concluded.  
Great Prince,  
I Am not ignorant that the marriage of your Highness with the Archduchess Isabel Clare, will bring an increase to your Family, a glory to your State, and a comfort to your servants, but as fast as the joy of possessing so great a Prince does grow in the heart of the Archduchess, that of my heart will diminish in the loss I am to suffer, of a heart that was always the object of my love, and all my desires: I hope your Highness will pardon me for writing to you in this manner, but in the condition I am in of losing what I adore, I can be no longer any thing else but an extravagant without conduct or reason; but if your Highness has been pleased to honour me hitherto by loving me as a Friend; I desire you will at least continue your grace and favour to me in loving, for the time to come, as your most humble servant  
Margaret.  
The Duke, who loved the Countess above his own reputation, after he had read her Letter two or three times over, sighing, in the presence of a brother of hers who brought it to him, tore it, after he had answered it, with much tenderness in these words,  
Countess,  
ALl Princes are accustomed to marry themselves more by reason of State than Love; so they love their wives more by reason of State than by affection. If the interest of my house did not oblige me to marry, nothing should hinder me from being always thine, whose I shall be, in despite of all those that would oppose it; and since th●… hast deceived thy husband to content me, why cannot I deceive my wife for thy satisfaction? trouble thyself for nothing, and love thy  
Charles.  
Although the furious wars in the year 1629. had very much exhausted the treasure of that State, yet the Duchess in this time of the marrying of her son spared for no cost, to render it very splendid and magnificent; all the Ladies of Honour that had lived in that Court were invited to make the entry of the new Princess into Mantua more glorious. There was none excepted in that invitation but the Countess, who the Duchess would not invite to that Ceremony, for some reasons, which, mortification to the Countess she soon after complained of to the Duke, and her resentment was heightened by her being, as it were, banished from the Court in a time when the Earl her husband had received one of the chiefest Employments for the Ceremony of that Entry; of which place he very well acquitted himself to the Contentment of the Duke his master: yet notwithstanding all this, the Countess would go to Mantua, and adorned herself with all the gallantries that fine Ladies take at those times to set themselves off at Court, whither she went to see the new Duchess, where at last the Duchess, mother to the Duke, gave her leave to stay to take part in the divertizements of the Balls, which were given these for many days together. The first great Ball passed without the Duke's seeming to take any notice of his Lady Margaret; and although there was more of Prudence than coldness of affection in this carriage of his, yet the Countess could hardly refrain from expressing those signs of anger and jealousy which seized upon her heart, imagining that the Duke satisfied with the beauty and carrsses of his Bride, began to neglect her charms, which had so long captivated him; she omieted no opportunity of speaking to the Duke, who understood her, and yet avoided talking with her, though he did not forget to cause her to be taken out to dance as well as the other Ladies of Quality, to whom Princes always apply themselves to do them chief honour at those times. But this politic dissimulation of the Duke's cold carriage to the Countess continued but a little while: for before she returned to Casal with her husband, his Highness would see her, and discoursed with her, above an hour in private. I know not in what place they met, but the Marquis of Arrigone passing by the place where the Duke and she were talking, and perceiving them together, Your Highness (said he) goes back to the Sicut erat, before you begin the Psalm.  
The Countess went away very well satisfied, after this conference with the Duke, which made it believed that his Highness confirmed the protestations of his constancy to her; but it was impossible for her husband to discover the reason of that great joy which was in her face at their return to Casal.  
These beginnings of the Duke's Marriage, though they passed thus coldly, yet it was not to be imagined that it would continue so long; although it is true, that the Thoughts and Affairs of Princes dispenses them in some fort from the ordinary practisers of inferior People: and, most People imagine, the Prince has performed his duty well enough, if he has got his Wife with Child; nevertheless, this Duke Charles, whether it were through the tenderness of his Age, having scarce yet arrived to his one and twentieth year; or through some other reason, he ceased not for three months together to Caress the Duchess his Wife with all sort of kindness; not only before his familiar Friends, but also in the presence of the Ambassadors themselves, which was a great contentment to the Duchess his Mother: but 3 Months after that, some business at Montferrat, or, as it is conjectured, the Love to the Countess, who desired him impatiently, or as some persuaded themselves, to leave the Duchess at repose, obliged the Duke to go to Casal; This Voyage a little altered the Duke's Affection to the Duchess his Wife, if one may give the name of Affection to a Love To newly planted, whose Roots were yet but small and tender; the sight of the Countess made him forget his Wife: and, it was observed, he had never taken so great a delight in Caressing of the Duchess, as he took only in speaking with the Countess: but, because the presence of the Husband was an Obstacle to their pleasures, he found out a way by a pretence of business to send him to Mantua: The Earl, who had from the first night of the Duke's arriving at Casal, taken better notice of some passages he was troubled to discover, began then to believe, what till then he had but suspected; nevertheless he must go by his Prince's Command, without showing any repugnance for that journey: but, at his return, he received an account of all had passed from a waiting Maid, to whom he had made great promises of Reward, with Oaths to perform them, to be a faithful Spy for him, of what passed between the Duke, and his Wife, in his absence; she promised the Earl, to give him an exact Account; but, it was not very difficult for her (the Countess not mistrusting her) to find out the most private passages for this intelligence. The Earl had foolishly believed, that all the Duke's Love had no other Conclusion but Playing at Cards, and perhaps some little French Freedoms with his Wife; imagining, that her Brothers and Kindred, that were interested in the same reputation, would have prevented any further ill, but he deceived himself; For, they were of the opinion he himself had a first declared, (that the Horns Grafted by a Prince did not sit uneasily upon the Head) and were so far from watching the Actions of the Duke, and their Kinswoman, to prevent the shame of their House, that they were very officious to bring them together, and serving the Duke's Loves with all imaginable care and diligence; and the chief amongst them in this employment, was he, whom the Duke had lately made Master of the Artillery at Casal; it was he that conveyed by night his Sister into the Duke's Chamber, and most commonly kept the Door, watching with the Male that was to carry back his Sister to her own Lodging, when she had pleasured the Duke: In truth this Amour grew very strong in this last Journey; the one began to hate her Husband, to satisfy her Gallant; the other, to despise his Wife, to give himself entirely to his Friend; and this was plainly perceived by what happened after the Duke's return to Mantua; where he discovered (to the great astonishment of all the World) that he was Cloyed of his Wife: No body being able to imagine, how a young Prince could possibly be weary so soon of a young Princess, who also was newly proved with Child, to the great Joy of the whole Court; whilst in the mean time that chaste Dove knew not what to think of a Husband so young who expressed so little Love to her; and nevertheless, although her Grief at it was great, yet her Prudence was greater; so that she pretended not to see that which she but too much discovered: The Earl, which the Duke had taken order to send away to Mantua, was commanded not to stir from thence till his Highness returned, which he obeyed; and the Duke was no sooner arrived in the Town, but he sent him back to his own House, where his Curiosity cost him dear, and gave him no small Mortification; the Servant he had employed to watch, having given him the whole Relation of all had passed between the Duke and his Wife: the shame and confusion of this poor Man is not to be expressed, when he learned the circumstances of this Impudent Love countenanced by the baseness of his Wives own Brothers; and although he seemed to take no notice of what he too well knew, nor harkened to the Discourses of his Friends upon that Chapter; yet, he could not imagine, that the Crimes of his Wife, and his own misfortune was so public: his melancholy grew to that height, that he saw not any body that Saluted him in the Streets; and he fancied every minute, that People were making Horns at him behind his back: The Countess, who had a good Nose, smelled out the reason of the Change in her Husband's Humour, and redoubled her Caresses to him; fearing, lest this jealousy which he appeared so insensible of before his Marriage, might product some unhappy effect; for, it is certain, that had she known him to be of a jealous humour, she would never have Married him.  
In the mean time, as the Earl and his Countess walked one evening after Supper upon the Town Walls, the Earl asked his Wife, Did his Highness wait upon you often? As he was wont, replied she; (seeing to what end he spoke it:) And, What did you do together, said the Earl? to which, she answered, The same that you did with the Duchess at Mantua. Thus they both rallyed one another. The Husband perceiving what it was to have such a Wife, and the wife lamented the trouble of having such a Husband: yet nevertheless the Earls jealousies had some intermissions, his Melancholy often giving place to his Joy; so that his Wife, and Brother's in-Law felt some time the effects of the one, and then of the other. Whilst these things passed in the Year 1652, the Duchess was brought to bed of a Son, which is now the only Prop of the House of Gonzague; the Consolation of his Mother; the Glory and Hope of the State, to which he gives great hopes, promising very much, showing himself a great and brave Prince, and expressing aversion for an idle lazy life; and, on the contrary, a great inclination for all the exercises of War: It is believed, that since the Birth of that young Prince, the Duke conversed not with the Duchess as his Wife; the reason of this opinion is his assiduous love to the Countess, as also because the Duchess has not been with Child from that time.  
This indifference of the Duke towards the Duchess was also impute● to two other causes; the first, to h●● Natural coldness; the other, to I know not what strange devise of the Countess the last fierce is doubted of; for, as report has said, this Woman fearing to lose the Duke's Friendship after h●… Marriage, and seeking to enjoy alone ● good, without which she despised all others; resolved to tempt all ways to prevent that, which she thought an obstacle to her design; to that end, having told her thoughts to one of her Sisters, she by her means, became acquainted with a certain Magician, who dwelled at Sir Sauveur, near to Casal; the Countess went to him, and obtained some words from him; That he bid her be confident she should enjoy the Duke's Friendship alone: but, because this Sorcerer was of an intelligence with a certain Religious Dominican, that Lady gained him by his means; she rewarding him, by not refusing him the satisfaction he required of her: so, after that this Charm succeeded so well by the help of this Reverend Father; that by their Diabolical Inventions, the Duke had that knot tied, usually so fatal to Marriage: Others have believed that this was a false report, and that this Witchcraft took no effect, but that the Duke made it a pretext to avoid the Duchess, whom he loved not; and devote himself to the Countess, whom he adored, in which there is no likelihood: For, let any body imagine how it can be possible for a young Prince to live in the company of his Wife without touching her, if there had not been some reason diabolical, or supernatural to hinder him: so, that it must certainly be believed, that the Countess did bewitch the Duke.  
The old Duchess, troubled at the Duke's infirmity, told him he should make use of some spiritual or natural remedies to cure him, but (what was very strange) he laughed at her advice, which made people believe that it was done by his own consent.  
It has been said that that natural coldness of the young Duchess, compared to the Constitution (so contrary) of the Countess, contributed very much for the small affection he had for her: but how could the Duchess leave off that purity so rare and commendable, which she had always made th● ornament of her life, to comply wit● the Duke's desires, and which he fo●… in another? There is no doubt be that she loved as much as any other woman could do, but with a sincere true and real love, for to say truth; she was not in the number of those that only made a show of love; but she loved her husband from the bottom of her heart; so that all her affection was within, having not those little foolish fondnesses which some other wives study with so much affectation to show their loves: In a word, her affection was truly great, though she did not make show of it; but to clear all this, I think it to some purpose to say something by the way, to discover what the Duke's inclinations were naturally, and also of that of the Countess Margaret.  
All men naturally take great delight in the Caresses they receive; it is certain that the Duke was more inclined to that satisfaction than any man; so that it may almost be said, that weakness was a fault of nature in him who so desired to be courted by the women, without which, it is thought, the Duke would have been insensible for them; they say that this inclination of the Dukes was caused by the Conversation of the Ladies of the Court, amongst whom he was brought up, and spent most of his youth, having always been caressed by one or other of those Ladies that waited on his Mother, who loved nothing more than to see the women make much of him, and to be under the conduct of that sex, and particularly the Lady Margaret, who had so used him to her carresses, that he could not think of carressing his wife, if he were not prepared by hers, which is a thing that seldom happens, but what the one could not do, the other was perfect in, and exercised her art so to the humour of the Duke, that he could not defend himself from her Charms, though he had a mind to it, also the Courtships to him, moved rather by ambition to domineer and govern the Duke, than by any sentiment of nature, which is believed by the little care she took to court her husband at that rate; and certainly the very sirens and Cir●… were never capable of more inti●…ments and flattering carresses than she used to please the Duke.  
See here the poison of this Marriage, see here the Fall of the Dukes to putation; a Princess too modest and little sensible of Carresses, and a Prince too desirous of those kind of Charm●… and on the other side, a woman experienced in all the crafts of Love, to gain the heart of this Prince, and take it from the Princess, and it is stedfasth believed, that if the Princess had been of her rivals humour, the Duke would have loved her as well as he loved the Countess, and had been ●… good a Husband as he was a Lover● and that if the Countess had not understood the way of treating him in another manner than the Duchess did without doubt he would have had ●… greater a Complasance for her; but yet it was better for the Princess to be as she was, than to be of the humour of her rival: In the mean time, it is easy to be believed, that the excessive carresses which the Countess made to that Duke made him not only hate the Duchess in the way of Matrimony, but also to abhor Marriage itself for her sake: for to just fie this opinion, he was quite contrary to the custom of other Princes, who delight in change; for he could endure to see no other woman but the Countess, and it is certainly reported, that except his wife, he never touched any other woman but the Countess, who was his ordinary Meal every day, and his Feast also; however one day he was angry at her for something, he to vex her sent for a young very pretty woman of the town of Casal, and because in that rencontre there happened a very pleasant passage, I think it necessary enough to mention it in this place in few words: This young Maid lived in a house on the backside of the Church of the Augustin Fathers in a street great enough, the Duke having often passed that way with the Countess, failed not to look upon her still being at the door on purpose to be seen by the Duke; This happened a little after the depart of the Earl in his voyage to Poland, the Duke rather to laugh than for any other design, seeing this young woman, used to say to the Countess, That wench is handsomer than thou art; It is true, said the Countess, (peeked with jealousy) but she has fewer charms, therefore I don't fear that she will deprive me of you love, which is apt to be taken wit● agreeableness than beauty; but wh●… pleasure does your Highness take to break my head with jealousy?  
One night when the Duke was angry at her, or counterfeited himself so, to vex the Countess, to trouble her brains yet more, he sent word to that young woman by one of the Grooms of his Chamber, (who was the same that used to wait upon the Countess to his Chamber at night in the Castle) that he would speak with her, and that he should expect her after Supper. Her mother, who understood this mystery, said to the Messenger, The words of his Highness cannot but produce great grace to my Daughter, who is wholly at his service.  
The hour come, the Groom of the Chamber went to execute the Orders of his Master, and to conduct this young Maid into his Chamber, (I will not say into the bed) but the Countess, being informed by the same man, who was her kinsman and a very good friend of hers, ran presently to the Palace, where having found that Prey, without taking notice of any thing, ran to the Dukes apartement, and presented herself to the Duke, to make him change his resolutions, who being made tender by her carresses, he cast himself into her arms, whilst the Groom of the Chamber, too crafty to lose so good an occasion, conducted the young woman, which he had brought, into his own Chamber, where he made her stay and lie with him; so that she saw herself constrained to receive from the man what she expected from the master. In the mean time her mother, taking hold on this occasion, bragged every where that her daughter had great Familiarities with the Duke, to whom nevertheless she had not so much as spoke a word. The Duke being with his wellbeloved, was in some apprehensions that the Groom of his Chamber might surprise them with that young wench he had sent for, but he found afterwards that all things were carried very well. The Counter of her side, reproached the Duke very much for his lightness and the injustice he did her in going about to change ● love which he had experienced so long for one that was so new, and besides which was not worth the trouble. The Duke excused himself, saying, All that was but in jest, and to make her jealous from whom he received those delights anew, which ordinarily is found in the reconcilements of Lovers. But, said the Countess, what did that young Wench do in your Palace. The Duke quickly replied, That if she were come thither it was for his valet de Chambre, and not for him. Your Highness then (said the Countess) serves the Loves of your valet de Chambre. Thus the pleasure banished the suspicions, and the peace was concluded without much pain.  
In the mean time, the young Duchess, too well informed of this unruly life, the Duke led with the Countess Margaret, could not defend her heart from suffering all those torments which an honest and virtuous wife usually feels upon such an occasion. She made some tell the Duke her Husband of it, desiring him to stop the Course of that disorder, which was his shame, and the scandal of his people: Her Prudence made her conceal her grief, and her Virtue obliged her to stifle those reproaches she might have made to the Duke's infidelity, which would draw upon him the hatred and scorn of other Princes, amongst whom at that time there was not heard of the like. The Duke could not hear the lawful reproaches of his wife the Duchess without being touched with the remorse of his crime; but if he set before his eyes the wrong and injury which he did to the goodness and fidelity of his wife, he failed not also to represent to himself how little it was in his power to leave off loving the Countess. Thus the mortification which he received from the reproaches was made to him served to no other end but to put him into a condition of not knowing which side to take; he knew his crime, but he could not hate the cause; and it was impossible for him to banish out of his soul his love to the Countess, to place the Duchess in her room; and although he wanted love for his wife, yet he wanted not reason to know his disorder; so that h●… sought to sweeten the just resentments of the Duchess by all kind of submissions, in which he let the world see that he was very well skilled in saving (as 'tis said) both the Cabbage and the kid, people wondered how he could so well both please his wife and his Mistress and how it came to pass that the deceived Duchess remained better satisfied than did the Countess, who effectually received from his Highness all kind of satisfaction, who wanted nothing that she could desire from him; but it was to be wished that the Duchess could have also the same pretensions that the Countess had.  
All that the Duke and the Countess did had no other end but to seek out ways to enjoy one another more often, which happened as they wished. The one studied to deceive her Husband, and the other his Wife: But to speak truth, the Countess found it a harder task to cheat her Husband, than the Duke found in deceiving the Duchess his Wife: for this poor unfortunate Lady perceiving that this was an incurable evil and desperate, by a great Prudence shut her eyes almost, that she might not see the disorders of her Husband; whilst on the other side the Earl watched his wife, the more that he saw her give herself up to the love of the Duke, to her great dishonour and loss of her own reputation, and he had just reason for doing so: for since they were not ashamed to act their worthy affairs almost before all the world, notwithstanding all the diligence of the Earl to watch them; what would they not have done, if he had winked at their excellent Carriage?  
If these two Lovers had been contented to do all in secret, the Earl had not been much disquieted, nor had he taken what they did into his consideration, but had rather, would have seemed to have received some satisfaction in the hopes of being well used by the Duke, and to have received honours from him in the sight of the world: For all his great trouble arose from the public scandal, and the opinion he had conceived, that every body fancied he complied with these amours, and thus it made him sick at heart, to be counted not only a base man, but an infamous voluntary Cuckold, and publicly to be despised as such a person: He never reflected upon the Nobility of his House, descended originally from great Princes, who had always lived honourably, and had maintained themselves for many years by a very advantageous reputation, without ever receiving any stain, but those reflections made him repent he had married a wife, whose carriage so much dishonoured that illustrious. Family of his; and the good fame this Predecessors had acquired by them honest Lives; his anger kindled a thousand times in his heart the desire of revenge, but the fear of some thing worse happening to him, and to lose not only his fortune but also his life, stifled all those thoughts in him. Shall I say furthermore, the apprehension of a sad end and an untimely death hindered him often from complaining to his wife of her wicked Carriage of herself; He durst not, I say, correct her in secret, or to threaten her, fearing that, she being warned by that, might procure to him a violent death in revenge to his upbraids of her: so that he was often forced to pretend as if he had not seen those passages he saw too plainly, and to be ignorant of what he knew too well. But in fine, not being able to induce any longer a vexation that grew every moment, pressed with grief and shame, he resolved to go to Savona, to ask Counsel of his Parents, what course to take to deliver himself from a misfortune which was so: cruel to him and so great? ●…and he had scarce acosted them, when one amongst them reproached him of marrying a wife whether they would or no, who was the daughter of an unchaste mother the sister of a whore, and whose own honour was suspected them when he would so obstinately resolve to marry her, and her life since has proved what she was then. The poor Earl, extremely mortified with these reproaches, could make no other answer, but that he never thought things would come to this pass; his Parents nevertheless not to leave him in this Sea of Confusion counselled him after they had comforted him a little, that he should try to remove his wife from Casal calmly and with Gentleness, to bring her to Savona, and there resolve to settle and live out the remainder of his days in his own Country.  
This Earl tried the way of following this good Counsel, believing for certain that absence would cool this love, and that time would make him forget what at the present was such a heart-breaking to him, and caused him so much shame; being then returned to Casal, he begun to try if he could work this miracle upon his wife, but all his endeavours were in vain; he told her his Parents desired her company very passionately amongst them, that the Ladies of that Town desired impatiently to enjoy her company, to render her all the service and respect they thought due to her; he also prayed her to consider how advantageous the Promises of that Republic were to him of making him a great man, by the considerable employments they would give him, and that she should assure herself he would spare no cost to give her all sort of contentments, and to that end he was resolved to purchase a little but fair Lordship hard by the Seaside, where in the Summertime they would divert themselves together, by all the agreeable divertsements suitable to persons of their condition. In fine, to conclude in a word, he gave her many other politic and moral reasons, so strong and plausible, that they would have been powerful enough to have convinced any body but herself: but the good Countess did nothing but laugh at this discourse, and without flattering him any further, told him plainly, That she was not of an humour to quit her own for a strange purchase, the certain for the uncertain, and that which she was really possessed of for a picture and shadow, that she had not married herself at Casal with intention to dwell at Savona, that the contract of her marriage had made no mention of this change, and that he could by nothing in the world find a lawful excuse to make her change her own Country; and if he pleased he might desire to see his own Relations at Savona, but as for her she would rather stay in the Company of her brothers at Casal, and after all she assured him it was loss of time to dream of that, because she was confident his Highness would never consent to their parture, and yet to departed without his consent it was blindly to precipitate her ruin, and thus the Earl was constrained to desist from his enterprise and saw himself obliged to arm himself with a new patience. The Countess the whilst judging by these words, that he had a design to retire he from her Lover; imagining besides, that her Husband had prepared for her at Savona some of those Morsels which the Italians ordinarily give to their wives in the like Cases, as it often happens in Italy; which made her seek an opportunity to speak to the Duke, and having easily found him, as she wished, she having the Liberty to go and come to him at all hours, after she had acosted him and made her curtsy, she told him at length the whole story of her Husband's designs, not forgetting his very words in a manner, that showed how angry she was at her Husband. This resolution of his extremely displeased the Duke, who looked upon the Earl as very little politic, and not at all prudent, and thought it very strange that for a foolish trifle (for he looked upon the making a man a Cuckold nothing else) he would hazard the loss of his favour in retiring from his service, he was of opinion that the honours he conferred on the Earl was satisfaction enough for the honour he took from him, and that he had done him Favour great enough in making him one of the most considerable of his Court, which he had not done upon any consideration in the world, but for the Love he had for the Countess.  
But if the Earl consulted his Parents at Savona, to carry the Countess thither out of Casal, the Duke and she consulted at Casal against him, and sought out Pretences to absent in good earnest that obstacle of their delights from them: for it was every day a new work, and every time that this Lover came to Casal he was in trouble to invent some new pretext to be rid of him, to the end that he might supply his place with the Countess, and divert themselves with more Liberty; But the Duke came so often to Casal, and was so often put to his shifts to find out new pretexts of dismissing the Earl out of the way, that he was now at the bottom of his scroll, and his invention being tired, he knew not what to do next: these Lovers propounded many ways to one another, whereof one was to shoot him privately with a Musket, and pretend afterwards that the blow came from soon of his enemies; but the Prince could not hearken to this resolution, not being willing, after the example of David, to add murder to his adultery, not being assured that he should repent as he did; besides, the Countess herself was not of a nature ever to give her consent to any actions of cruelty, the least in the world; or any that thus was an offence to the Hollness of Matrimony, notwithstanding the heat that appeared in her first motions and passion against her husband. They had already sent him to Rome's twice to Florence, as many times to Venice, and I know not how many times to Turin and Genes. The Duke at last would send him into France, in the quality of an Ordinary Ambassador, but there were two obstacles that hindered that, The hate and aversion the Earl ever bore to the French Nation, was one, and indeed his declared aversion to them was so unreasonable, that he was used to say in all Companies where he came, that if he had the Keys of Hell but one day, he would with his whole heart send all the Frenchmen thither even to the Devil's Palace, because they had corrupted the City of Casal, and by the introduction of their Liberty had so changed that Town en bordeau. Thus it appeared not reasonable to the Duke to send such a man to treat with them. In the second place, that which hindered the Earl from being sent Ambassador into the Court of France, was, The Fear the Duke had he would carry his wife along with him, (as assuredly he had done;) and the Duke refusing to let her go, would have disobliged him too much, and given cause to an apparent scandal, and therefore this Proposition took no effect, and ended just where it begun, as unprofitable to their design; but the resolution was certainly taken to dismiss the Earl one way or other, if not for ever, yet for a great while; but they endeavoured to find out ways for their satisfaction that would suit with the glory of the Husband and honour of the Wife, which they looked upon chief in this design. As for the absenting of her brothers, there was no thought of that; for they were very merry and well contented to see their Sister in the Duke's good graces, and envied one another, who should most contribute to the pleasures of the Duke and their Sister. The profit they received was so great by it, besides the considerable charges conferred upon them for their service in that trade; in truth those Gentlemen might well enough dissemble their trouble, to see their Sister live so disordered a life, and content themselves more easily to be the procurers of horns; since that office was not so great a dis-reputation to them as it was to the Earl that was the Husband, who was to endure not only the public knowledge of his dishonour, the injuries and reproaches of all the world, but also the pride and ill humour of his wife in his house, without daring to take notice of his being sent away from her, so often, whole weeks and months, which was insupportable to him: therefore it must not be wondered, if the Earl was weary of that life, as well as the Duke was of seeking out excuses to send him abroad, to enjoy his wife with more Liberty, who at last thought of a way very fit for his design.  
There is in the Kingdom of Poland a Marquis of Gonzague, very much esteemed by all the people in that Country, who although they are not of the same line of the Dukes of Mantua, yet carry the same name, and arms, and are owned by the Duke of Mantua as kinsmen in all their Letters, which they send. It is true that this kindred gives them no manner of pretence to the hereditary Succession of the Duchy of Mantua, and Marquisate of Montferat: for the Duke of Mantua, who by the Emperor's consent, at first acknowledged them of kin to him, only upon this condition, That they should be excluded from all pretences of Succession to that State.  
The Duke then was of opinion that he might send the Earl into Poland, not so much to make a visit to that Marquisesas to be informed of the employments, estate, and riches, and the interest they had in that Courts and to make his design hit the better, by the Earls making a longer stay in that journey than he expected, he ordered him to go not in the quality of an Ordinary Ambassador, but as a Gentleman traveller, who had no other end but to see the Country.  
This resolution taken between the Duke and the Countess, the Earl was sent for to receive his Commission, and what else was necessary for that voyage, and to prepare himself. The Duke gave him many wicked and false reasons, the interest he had in being informed fully of the estate, and rank which those Lords held in the Court of Poland, and told him that he had already writ Letters of Recommendation of the Earl to them; in which, he had pretended that he was only to pass thorough that Kingdom; and had his Highness Commands to wait upon them from him, adding further, that he had willingly sent him in the quality of Ambassador to their King, who was his Highness' kinsman, but for his own convenience, and to save the great Charge which such an Embassy would have cost him, and also for better profiting in his design, which carried him thither, he thought it more necessary for him to go as a private Gentleman, who had a Curiosity of seeing the world, than in any other quality, because that in that Condition he could better inform himself of the estate those Lords, without suspicion.  
The Earl perceived very easily the Duke's design, and although he humbly acknowledged the Favour his Highness did him in calling him to that employment of trust; yet he could not refrain from excusing himself by telling the Duke, that such a Commission was more fit to be given to a Page, than to ● man of his Quality.  
The Duke who wanted neither wit ●or cunning, would not receive his enumerable excuses, although I know ●ut one which the Duke replied to, which the Duke said might have ●rv'd had his design been something more than a private exact information of the Condition in which his kinsmen were at the Court of Poland; upon which informations depended all his affairs with that Kingdom, which when he was satisfied of from his private voyage thither, he should then proceed to the public Embassy to the Polish King, in which he made choice of him; and to that end had given him first this private Commission, as most fit for his designs, and therefore he ordered him to go as soon as he could possibly get himself in readiness for such a Voyage; to which the Eal gave no further reply but that be should do all in his power to be ready to serve his Highness that hour he should appoint him for this journey in which, he plainly discovered he had no good will for him.  
In the beginning this order to go for Poland troubled him very much and put a thousand Fancies in his head and represented many things to the trouble of his soul; but at last, after having well considered it, he conclude it better for him to absent himself tha● to stay and break his heart, by bein● an eye witness of all the impudenc●… of his wife with the Duke, which were come to that pass, that they made no scruple, scarce, before his face: but that kinsman of his, which I spoke of before, who was aged, and an experienced man in all the intrigues of Court, and therefore had so dissuaded the Earl from this Marriage, he having smelled the Duke's intention, and heard the report that the Earl was to be sent into Poland; as he was Elder than the Earl, so he spoke with more assurance, and without flattery told him, I see very well that horns will be very cheap. To which the Earl replied, Cuckold for Cuckold, it is better to have horns made behind the back then before the Face.  
The Earl had fifteen days given him to prepare for his Voyage, during which he took care of all things necessary for such a journey; he took leave of all his Friends, but in a manner told them that he gave them the last adieu: his brothers in law counselled him to serve his Highness with much zeal and affection; but he felt very well where his shoe wrung him, and thought within himself that all their Counsels had no other end but, The dishonour of he wife their own Sister. In the meantime, he could so well act his part, and dissembled so well, that no body imagined that he went to Poland against his will, he appeared so gay and pleasant; none would have believed, but that he made this Voyage with all the satiffaction in the world. The Countess appeared very indifferent to all this and seemed to be neither well not ill pleased at it, knowing well that all she could have said would have been disinherited, and therefore she spoke nothing to her Husband but equivocally upon that subject, being certain that he was not ignorant that in all things she had no intentions but those of pleasing the Duke; she was more than convinced that her Husband believed not one word she said to him, although she had forced herself to appear very much afflicted at his depart; and to express her joy she durst not, believing with reason that excess of Folly would have given too public a scandal to the World; however she assured him, that the Duke intended to raise him to the highest Dignities the State and Court were capable of, and that the Service which his Highness now desned from him was, To open a way to greater Honours, to which he had designed him.  
The Earl then parted from Casal in the Month of April, accompanied by his wife's elder brother as far as Mantua, where after he had received his Highness' orders he passed the Mountains, and went on his journey.  
The same day the Duke dispatched a Messenger to the Countess with this note,  
My Heart and my All!  
THe Earl is gone this Morning for Poland, where he will do nothing, and I intent to go from hence within two days, to a place where I hope to do something. I shall rest contented when no body works in thy Garden, which is only worthy the labour of Princes; excuse me if I speak so freely, do thou be mine, and for me, I shall be always thine, in spite of all those that would trouble either of us; expect me with the same desire I have to see thee, and be mine, as I am thine,  
Charles.  
It will not be unnecessary in this place to conclude the story of the Earl, because we shall not henceforward have more occasions of mentioning him; I will tell you then, that he continued in Poland two Months without doing any thing; having not received all the remembrances, and instructions necessary touching his Negotiations, although the Duke had given him his word to send them to him, but it was but a Pretext, to gain time; because the Posts that went from Mantua to Poland, went lazily, and arrived there but as late as possibly they could; whilst in the mean time the Earl knew but too well for what reason the Duke had sent him so far off, and into a place where he was obliged to be his own Comforter for all his Misfortunes; but what afflicted him most was, That the Duke sent him not so much as the particular Instructions, whereby he might acquit himself aright of his Commission in the Court of Poland, and also sent him no money, without which it is impossible for strangers to do any thing, and having it, they compass any thing: and therefore at last, he writ to the Duke and also his Wife these Letters following, which he sent by Paris:  
Great Prince!  
I Yet stay for those Letters of dispatch, which your Highness made me hope I should receive in this Kingdom, and yet I have not seen them, although two Months are passed since I arrived in this Kingdom, besides the days were spent in my journey hither; I have much shame and confusion at being here and having no employment, not being able to serve your Highness like a true and faithful Vassal: Therefore in all humility I desire your Highness to send me with speed something to do, that I may testify to you, with what fidelity persons of my Quality usually serve their Sovereign, who wish all prosperity to your Highness, which you deserv●, I am  
Your most humble Vassal, The Earl of Rovera.  
The other Letter which at the same time he sent to his wife was in these words,  
My dear Spouse!  
I Am so angry and so unsatisfied in being in a strange Country, from my own House, absent from my wife, and without money, that if I had two souls, I would willingly give one to the Devil. His Highness sent me hither with assurance that the Instructions necessary for me, and the Bills of Exchange, should certainly follow me; but seeing the contrary, I know not who to complain to, and cannot but think that I was sent hither on no design, but of being rid of me. I would nevertheless flatter myself, if it were possible, with the belief that the length of the way might perhaps be the cause of the slowness of my Letters, and hindered them from coming so soon as I expected; but for all that I cannot but afflict myself, not being ignorant that those people, who make use of my house in my absence, divert themselves, whilst in the mean time I am suffering in the houses of others; it troubles me not to be here, but I am vexed that I have not that which was promised; I pray thee solicit his Highness, and speak to him by word of mouth, if he is at Casal, or by Letter, if he be at Mantua, that I may receive satisfaction, and the Duke may be served; till now I have not had opportunity of seeing any Lady, therefore I can say nothing to thee of their humours nor inclinations at present. This is all I can write to thee this day, deferring the rest to another opportunity. Adieu, I embrace thee.  
But let the Earl writ as many Letters as he pleased, he stayed fifteen Months in Poland, always waiting to receive his Orders, scarce once seeing in all that time the Marquis of ●●●zague, or at least once saluting frim from the Duke: he bitten his fingers every day in despite of his being so cheated, he writ and writ again but to no purpose in the world, and received no answer to all his Epistles but fair words, and to no end; which the Duke caused his Secretary to write which circumstance aggravated the Earls vexation, and put him out of himself. In fine, seeing he could do-nothing in that Court for the service of his Highness, and that the Duke his Master had very little business to tre●… of in that place, he made new requests to him, which he often repeated, for his consent to his return to Casal, with protestations of his being more serviceable to his Highness at Casal than at Poland, where he did nothing either for the Duke or himself, as he thought, whilst in the mean time that poor man rendered all the service required from him, since there was nothing desired from him but his absence.  
The great Liberty with which these two Lovers diverted themselves together in the absence of the Earl, made them invent all the means possible to prolong it; and since he renewed his desires and pressed so much his return, through weariness of his staying idle in the Court of Poland. The Duke being resolute for his absence a longer time, devised another plot worse than the former.  
He ordained then the Earl by express Letters, That he should go to the Capitol City of Persia, where he pretended he should stay there some Months in the quality of an Ambassador, because the interest of his State required some Correspondence with that King, and to engage the Earl to this, he promised him mountains and wonders, assuring him that if his designs succeeded by his Negotiation, he should want no Honours and Recompenses, there being none after that such service which he might not pretend to for himself or his heirs.  
The Duke sent him these Orders, with a Letter of Exhortation, and commanded also his Secretary, and his wives brothers to write to him. They obeyed the Duke, and sent to this poor banished man Letters full of Flatteries to animate him to the Duke's 〈◊〉 vice, with all the affection imaginable and failed not to aggravate to the 〈◊〉 the honours which they presume would accrue to him by this voyage.  
When the Earl received this Order one would have thought the Dev●… had taken him by the Choler; ●…eat his fingers with rage, and who ever had seen him would have thought he would also have devoured his Letters, he begun to beat his valet ●… Chamber; to discharge some of h●… Choler upon him, and that which was most vexations in this business, ●… was the more inflamed by the believing his resentments so just and his extre●… passion lawful, he saw plainly that the Duke's only end was to make h●… die of want in that long and pain●… voyage, that afterwards he might ●…joy his wife with greater Liberty; ●… could not imagine any way what at fairs the Dukes of Mantua could have with the Kings of Persia, so that press, with grief he took a resolution of sending his footman into Italy with the same Letters which he had received from the Duke, reserving to himself only the Bills of Exchange, without giving himself the trouble to write to the Duke so much as one word of excuse, nevertheless he gave this servant of his two Letters of transport, one for his Wife, the other for his Brother in Law; The first was this,  
Wicked Wife, the dishonour of my House, and the ruin of my Person,  
I Refrained hitherto those lawful reproaches I could have made to thy dissolute life, for fear of publishing those crimes, which at least ought to be concealed; but since thy impudencies go so far, as to destroy, I do not say, the quiet of my mind, (for it never tasted any since my cruel destiny joined me to thee,) but that of my soul, which thou persecutest even unto the farthest places of the world. I think myself obliged now to let thee know, that I was never blind as thou believedst me, but if I pretended to be so, 'twas an effect of my Prudence; I complain not of the Duke who persecutes me for thy sake; I complain of thy disloyalty to thy Husband. Why didst th●… marry, wicked woman as thou art, if thy intentions were to be always dishonest? Thou deceivedst thyself if thou didst believe that at the beginnings of our Marriage I did not perceive thy abominable amour; I knew, I saw with great regret, although I counterfeited ignorance, and pretended neither to see, nor hear, nor understand. It might have sufficed thee to have dishonoured me at Casal, without being so cruel as to drive me out of Italy. Dost thou think I believe that all these pretended honours art conferred upon me for any other end, but in consideration of thy impudent dishonest life, to mock and abuse my simplicity? I understand it well enough, and would to God I did not at all. I forsake the name and quality of Husband, being forced to abandon my wife. I should be the basest of men to go about to serve a Prince, who flatters me with imaginary honours, whilst in effect he dishonours me: Yes, I hope to find a happier Fortune in Barbary than in my native Country; and I believe that the Inhabitants of that Country will not have so much cruelty for me, as my Wife and my own Prince have showed me in Italy; Yes, yes, I renounce thee for my wife, since thou wilt be a whore, and I am resolved to fly thy presence eternally, that the world may not believe I consent to thy disorders. I confess I need not complain of thee, because it is myself I ought to blame for all my misfortunes, having been sufficiently warned by my friends and kindred of all that I have suffered by thee, and the dishonour thou wouldst bring me. But in fine, since my destiny has sent this for my ruin; I run very willingly to it; and do not thou think to escape punishment, which will come upon thee one day, when thou dreamest not of it, and although the chastisements of Adulterers is, like thine, deferred, yet it is sure to come; go, God will revenge me, and punish thee.  
He finished his Letter to the Countess in these words without Subscription, and sent it with another to his Brother-in-law writ in these terms,  
THere is nothing I should less have credited, than that Brothers born of an illustrious Blood would have served as Rascals in the prostitution of their own Sister; There is no body either in Mantua or Casal, that is ignorant of this; It is now become the Fame of your Family, and the only thing by which it is taken notice of; but I am very much displeased to have my reputation engaged in it; For as for yours I deride it, since you have been so base to offer up to the Duke what not longer belonged to you. That opinion of yours, That Princes can make no Cuckolds, resembles that Gold which covers Pills, to cheat sick people. I have always looked upon it as such, and I have endured as much as I can; but this minute that I have not gold enough left me to cover such great Pills as are prescrib'd to me, I have no more Patience, and must complain, since the Duke is pleased I shall this day begin to run over the World, like a poor Pilgrim and miserable banished man: to the end that he may enjoy your Sister in quiet. I resign my wife willingly to his Highness, and the shame to you; till now you have acted the part of Rascals, and served the shameful desires of my wife: Now take to yourselves the employment of serving your Sister. This is all shall be said to you from him that gives you absolutely his share in the shame, that you may possess it all; he flies from the company of a prostituted adulterous woman, and from the Pimps her Brothers; understand me as well as I understand both of you.  
These were the last Letters which the Earl writ to Casal, with which the Duke looked upon himself so sensibly offended, having got them both into his hands, that he swore in the Countess' presence to be revenged: Many were of opinion that he was quickly after that satisfied in his vengeance he intended on the Earl, because that minute he made his Oath, he dispatched many Letters, giving order to follow him, and to learn what was become of him, of whom since that time there was no news heard, which was the cause so many believed he was killed by the Duke's Orders, but I cannot believe this last common opinion, because that Prince had not so black a soul; and I rather think he was satisfied enough with ordering him to be punished only by sending him far enough off his State; some were of opinion that he went into Swede, and under a disguise changed his Religion and became a Lutheran; and some believe he lives at this day in some little place he purchased with those thousand Pistols which the Duke sent him by Bills of Exchange for his Voyage into Persia: Others pretend he has been seen in Portugal not five years since, which is not certified credibly. But whatever is become of him, there has not any thing been heard of him since that time, and at Casal there is nothing spoken of him good or bad, and therefore we will talk no more of him, but here conclude the life of that unfortunate Husband.  
Let us now return to that poor Princess, almost forsaken by her husband, in all things but outward shew● who seeing herself thus treated by the Duke her Husband, for the low of an infamous woman, and one so much below her in Birth, that there is no other comparison between them to be made but what is given between that of a Prince and a slave; so that it was very difficult for her to hinder herself from loudly complaining of the Countess, and the more by seeing every day her husband's affection grow colder for her, and increase to that wicked woman, who alone possessed his heart. This afflicted Duchess was desperate at all the abominable tricks which from day to day were played the Earl beyond the Seas, only to leave his wife at more Liberty with the Duke; and her affliction was very much increased when she was informed of his despair, which had caused him to renounce absolutely the serving that Court any more, and never to return to Cas●l, nor yet into any part of Italy; and since she heard by the whispering murmurs of the Courtiers, that the Duke angry at this procedure of the Earl had resolved to pursue him in revenge wherever he went; in pity to this poor Lord, she went to ask his pardon of the Duke, and to that effect she set before his eyes the example of Da●id, driven from his Kingdom, not so much by the persecution of Absalon his son, as the decree of Heaven, to punish him for Adultery, which he had committed with Bathsheba, and that horrid execrable and barbarous murder of Uriah her husband, adding, That that Prophet had not so violently persecuted Uriah, as his Highness had pursued the Earl; nor had lived so long a time in Adultery with Bathsheba as he had lived with the Countess. The Duke, angry at these solicitations, risen up from the bed where he was sitting, whilst the Duchess was talking to him, and walking to the Chamber-door, gave her no other answer than this,  
Madam, that which men believed in the Old Testament to be a sin, all Princes account this day a gallantry: and saying this, he went away.  
The Duchess seeing all her words unprofitable, and worked nothing upon the heart of the Duke, which was harder than any rock, to all Counsels that were given him to take him off his scandalous living; she resolved at last to try another way, and employ greater strengths than her own, though she wen● far to fetch them. She knew very well the veneration of the Duke for the Senate of Venice, and she had often heard him profess his considerable Obligations to that illustrious Republic, with which he held great Correspondence for the interest and considerations of his own State. Therefore she took the occasion of petitioning that Senate in private to interpose their authority, to deliver her from her troubles, and to take the Duke from his scandalous way of life with the Countess.  
That Senate, who does nothing without great Caution and Prudence, did not think this a necessary business for the whole body of the Counsel to take notice of, therefore they ordered Monsieur Justiniani to undertake it as a particular man, and to use all possible diligence in the affair: That Lord did not fail to receive that Commission with much respect and submission, but he was not without fear that he should be able to effect nothing to the satisfaction of the Senate, nor of the Archduchess; he nevertheless omitted no opportunity of surprising the Duke, to talk to him about it, and having found an hour fit for his purpose, he begun to talk of this Commission with an admirable Eloquence backed with Reasons so solid an never yet was seen come from the tongue of that Excellent Orator; but all his Eloquence and strong Reasons were unprofitable; all the Discourses of this Illustrious Lord producing no effect, and made no impression in the heart of the Duke, who answered resolutely to that Oracle of the Senate, that there was but one remedy to cure so great a sickness, and that was, To send for an Executioner from Venice, to cut his heart out of his breast, because as long as it stayed there, it must of necessity be the Countesses, and without depriving him of his heart; it was impossible to take from him the love he bore to the Countess. After that reply Justiniani found it to no purpose to press him further, and to undertake any more against so great a wilfulness, as he discovered in the Duke.  
That Prince then shutting his eyes to all kind of Considerations, lived with the Countess like a Husband with his Wife, he carried her along with him when he went a Hunting, and also to the Palace royal of Mantua, where his wife the Archduchess also lay, he eat with the Countess, slept with her, and caressed her in the presence of all his Courtiers, almost before the face of that poor Princess his wife, who although she saw not what they ordinarily did, did not fail to hear of it, having the story of what passed between those two Lovers brought to her every day, all the Ambassadors, the Gentlemen, noblemans, as also all the Ladies of Mantua, admired the great Goodness of this Princess, to suffer with so much Patience so great an injury, or to say better, such an affliction of heart; for to say the truth, that dishonest love of the Dukes brought, more glory to the Duchess than any disgrace, because she in that Patience expressed so great a virtue, in despising jealousy, and mocking at all those carnal pleasures of Matrimony, and letting the world see that all her trouble and mortification proceeded only from no other cause than the sin her Husband committed, and therefore we are not to call that Patience of hers a corporeal injury, but an affliction of Spirit.  
There wanted no Ladies nor Gentlemen about the Court, who counselled the Duchess from time to time to revenge herself of that Prostitute, by one of those Draughts so common in Italy, as the only remedy to put an end not only to her own affliction, but also the Duke her husband's adultery, and to take away the dishonour of the Countess' Family, besides the depriving the Court of its great trouble.  
Amongst the rest there were two persons of very large Consciences, as one may say, wide as a Friar's sleeve, offered themselves voluntarily to do this deed, the one was a Tailor, who proffered to end the Countess' life with the Shot of a Harquebuz, which he would in private Shoot at her, and no body should know of it, and that he would take great care in choosing his time, ask for recompense of that action but two hundred Pistols, to keep him in any place he should be forced to fly to, it not being possible after doing that to think of returning back to his own house; or if they thought that sum too much for him, he asked no more than a good Recommendation to the Archduke, to be favourably treated with him.  
The other person that offered to dispatch the Countess was a Lady and her kinswoman, honourable by reason of her age, who believing herself interested in the dis-reputation the Countess had brought upon her Family, and touched with shame and compassion for the Archduchess, offered herself also to poison this adulterous Countess, so privately that none should ever know it.  
But that poor Princess who looked upon all those Miseries, as being by the permission of Heaven, and receiving them as coming from the hands of God, did not only blame those bloody resolutions, and tragical designs of those murderers but she also forbidden them for ever the presenting themselves before her with those Propositions, and it is said that one day, as she was discoursing with her Confessor (in the presence of the Governess of her house) of the scandalous life the Duke lived with that Countess, and the Proposals had been offered her of revenging that adultery. That Confessor told her, That great persons might commit a small evil, to deliver themselves from a greater. Which the Duchess scarce heard him say, but guessing well his design, which was only to carry her to revenge, she quickly replied, We had rather suffer the Countess to live with her sin, than ●… let her die with ours.  
These words sufficiently testifie● the great goodness and admirable virtue of that excellent Princess, with which she endured all her disgrace so well, that she took more delight in suffering, whilst others were pleased than she could have taken satisfaction amongst all kind of prosperities, whilst other people had been unhappy; also she never went about to buy her own repose by a Crime, and satisfy the desires of her body by an offence so prejudicial to her soul, which makes me believe that God will take her in to his particular care during her Regency, and so much the more, because she prefers the interest of her Maker before all those of the world.  
The Emperor and the Archduke sent by their Ambassadors a desire to the Duke of Mantua, that he would a little open his eyes, and consider the great scandal he lived in, even in the fight of all the Princes of Italy, protesting that they propounded this to him not out of resentment, but were pressed to it out of the tender affection they bore to his person. They also assured him that they had not been solicited to this motion by the Princess their kinswoman, who complained not in the least to them of ill treatment, but on the contrary, protested to them that the Duke her Husband honoured her very much, and except in the bed near him, to which the Countess alone was privileged, the Duke used her with all the civility imaginable, as well in private as public. Therefore the Emperor and the Archduke had no cause to complain of any thing, and less yet, in that it happened contrary in this scandalous life of the Dukes, to that which ordinarily passes in such a case by many that use their wives ill, for the sake of their Mistresses. For the Duke, contrary to other men, was grown so crafty, that he knew how to act cunningly by apparently satisfying his wife before the world, and taking his private pleasures with the Countess; so that it was not easy for any to observe any change in the looks of that chaste Princess, but rather much contentment and pleasure. It is true, that outside Friendship in appearance ought not to be imputed to the care and prudence of the Duke so much as to the goodness of his wife; who being endowed with a singular virtue, and a● extraordinary prudence, could hid her grief, and express no signs of trouble in her Face, although her heart was pressed down with affliction.  
The Court of Rome received with much displeasure the news of this scandalous adultery, and the trouble it received was aggravated by the quality of that great Person, who was guilty of that public disorder; and therefore it gave Orders to the Superiors of the Convents at Casal and Mantua to enjoin the Preachers to exaggerate the nature of this Crime in their Pulpits whilst in the mean time the Duke suffered the World to Talk, and the Monks to Cross themselves, and went to Sermons when the Fancy took him, and harkened to what he liked; upon which, it happened, that a Father of the Order of St. Francis, by an indiscrete Zeal, having too much reflected upon the Person of the Duke, and too openly spoke of the Countess, found himself so entangled, he was constrained to quit Mantua, till he was forced to Swear, That for time to come he would change his Note, and in Correcting the Vices of Princes, he would henceforward use more discretion.  
The Duke's Confessor was also exhorted to remember his Highness sometimes of the Obligation he had to leave off his scandalous life; (as if the greatest evil of that Crime lay in the Scandal of it:) but that good Father loved better to be in the good graces of a Prince, Adulterous and Criminal, than Enemy of a Just and Innocent one: And furthermore, he was so indulgent, that when he Confessed him, he easily gave him Absolution; Laying all the fault upon the weakness of our Nature: In truth, there are Confessors in these days, that are cause of the loss of many Princes; For, they being Ambitious to Domineer over the other Brothers of the Convent by their Prince's Favour; they would be content (rather than lose that Dignity) not only to send their Princes to Hell, but also go themselves to the Devil; neglecting the Duties of their Place, and their Pastoral Obligations, in excusing the Faults which these Illustrious Sinners commit.  
The Countess also received from time to time her secret Mortifications; for the Bishop, solicited perhaps from Rome, and the , represented to her sometimes the condition of her life, threatening to refuse to give her the Holy Sacrament at Easter, but it was but Threats, to which she harkened very little, and which gave her but little trouble, because she was confident they would never be performed, for fear of disobliging his Highness; and the more, because she excused herself, by laying the fault upon the Duke, saying to him that came to speak to her from the Bishop, That being born a Subject, she could not command the Duke not to see her any more, because he would do her that Honour.  
I cannot forbear in this place to relate an Accident, no less curious than Politic, which happened during these passages.  
My Lord Bishop of Cassal had undertaken a thing believed impossible by all the World, which was, to find out a remedy to divert the Duke from this Love of the Countess; which was so public, that there could not be a greater between two persons Married: but the whilst he laboured by I know not what Political and Pastoral Zeal, he found the end of his days in seeking that of a Scandal; this Death of his regreted by all: he having been a Prelate of an exemplar life, and held worthy of so eminent a charge in the Church, in which he had always showed himself with great Zeal.  
The Countess was not very sorry, seeing herself by that delivered from the apprehension, of losing the Duke's good Graces, of which she was in danger, by the strong exhortations of that Bishop. On the contrary, she had no sooner heard the news of the Death of the Bishop, but speaking to her Sister the Countess Lovize, she said to her, the poor Bishop is dead, for aiming too much at Fisticuffs against Heaven; she meant by that, to show it was all one, to Fight against Heaven, and to endeavour to ruin her Favour with the Duke.  
The Earl her Brother going also to talk to her upon the Subject of the Bishop's Death, said to her, Sister, you have lost a great Enemy at least, if he that is his Successor prove not of his humour: To which she answered; He shall be my Friend, or nothing.  
The Bishop's Funerals were scarce ended, but, as well from the State of Mantua, as Rome, there started up many pretenders to his place; The Pope pretended a right in the choosing of a Bishop for Casal, in the State of Mantua, because all knew very well, that although the right of making a Bishop of Casal belonged to his Holiness, yet there was no great satisfaction to be found, for any that should be made without the Duke's consent: It being certain, that to be a Bishop of any Town, against the  of their Sovereign, it is no other, then to ruin any Man's Fortune, and keep him always in trouble: There is no person that will accept it without having at the least the nomination of the Prince, or else a recommendation from him; And for this reason, there were as well at Mantua as at Casal, the pretenders to that Bishopric, seeking to the Duke for a Nomination, or recommendation from his Highness.  
Amongst many others, the Provost of Miroglio had a mind to this Bishopric, and it was very easy for him to attain it, because no body dreamt of him, for the way he took was better, and very different from those that the rest of the Pretenders had taken; he addresses himself to the ●ady Margaret, with whom he had always held a very good correspondence, and now sought her Recommendation by submissions and promises, with extraordinary Proffers; he promised her a Purse with a thousand Crowns in it to buy her a Diamond protesting to her, that he would willingly tesign the Cross into her hands; showing her by that, that he would never do any thing which should not be as she would have it, and to her satisfaction: he forgot not to entreat her, that for all these considerations she would employ all her interest with his Highness, to obtain his Recommendation to his Holiness.  
This occasion looked so fair, that the Countess would not neglect i●… Therefore she promised him to employ all her credit to bring his design about, so well, that he should be satisfied with her endeavours; she went then to her , and represented to him, how necessary it was to his Highness to have a Prelate at Casal, of another Humour then the former; who, under a colour of Zeal, should not interrrupt the repose which their Loves enjoyed, since the death of the last Bishop; telling him further, that Miroglio was a Man of a perfect prudence, and worthy of that Bishopric; sounding these words often in the Duke's cares, My Heart, I desire thee to act so, that this affair succeed in belial of this Gallant-Man; and certainly, he was always looked upon as such; for, being a Prelate, he acquitted himself of his charge very well, and continues still to do so; and although he salutes every Body with a Smiling Countenance, and all kind of affability; and that in his ordinary Discourses he still mingles some jesting word or other: he nevertheless with all that forgets not to Govern the Church and his Diocese extremely well.  
The Duke, who of himself was inolined to favour that Lord, not only consented to the request of his Wellbeloved in his behalf, but engaged himself further to act with all his power.  
After this testimony of the Duke's good will, the Countess willing to try the constancy of this Lord Miraglio, and to discover what his Thoughts would be (if he arrived to that Bishopric) of her Amour with the Duke, sent for him, and after having assured him of the Duke's Favour and Protection, to the end he desired it, she represented to him the great imprudence of the deceased Prelate, who, not content to enjoy his Bishopric in peace, which he held by the Duke's Favour, would trouble the repose of His Highness, in seeking to make him pass for an Adulterer.  
Monsieur Miroglio, who, penetrated to the quick into the Soul of this Crafty woman, answered her like a Gallant Man; for, after he had very much condemned the procedure of the dead Prelate, he Swore to her, that if ever he received the Mitre, he would never do any thing, but what should please the Duke and herself; furthermore, he added, That the Sins of Princes were but small in the eyes of God; and in fine, he brought many other such kind of reasons, and perhaps better to reach his end, and compass his design, only to appear blind to the Duke's Scandalous Life, and Public Adultery.  
The Countess was not unsatisfied with this Discourse, and tolerating that Lord, she made him so many advantageous Promises, that he parted from her very well contented, and pleased the more with the last words of the Countess, which were, That he was as sure of being Bishop, as he was certain that the Duke was Lord of Casal, and Sovereign of his State.  
The time of parting for Rome being come, my Lord Miroglio was at the Palace, to obtain the Letters of Recommendation from His Highness, and receive the necessary Orders; but the Duke, to let him see that he considered in that Choice, more the Interest of his Beloved, sent for him, and told him, My Lord, you shall receive from the Countess all you wish: To whom he answered, with a low Congee, The Hands of such a Lady could bring him nothing but good Fortune.  
The Duke Writ divers Letters to the Court of Rome, to recommend the Interest of this Pretender to the Bishopric; but, amongst the rest, that which he writ to his Holiness, was so much to his advantage, he could not reasonably desire one greater; and because the Countess gave him this Letter open, I will here give you the Contents to satisfy the Curiosity of the Reader.  
Most Holy FATHER.  
AFter having most Humbly Kissed your Feet, with all the Affection of my Heart; I Salute your Holiness with all the Humility of my Soul; recommending in the mean time to the Politic and Ecclesiatick Zeal of Your Holiness, the Interests of my Lord Miroglio, Provost of this Town, and a Man very much beloved in my house; be aspires to this Vacant Bishopric, and if I am not deceived, I believe his Merit renders him worthy enough of it; the time of the War, which makes this Town liable to great suffering, both within and without; obliges me to be more earnest with Your Holiness, to consider the Person I recommend to you, and Create Bishop of Casal this Subject, whom I look upon as my Intimate Friend, and a Man qualified to remove all Causes of Jealousy, which usually grow from the Introduction of Prelates who are strangers, into such eminent Places; and therefore I desire Your Holiness, with the Humility of a Son, to Grant me with this Grace Your Fatherly Benediction.  
The Countess had no sooner given this Letter to Monsieur Miroglio, and the others addressed to some of the Cardinals, than he went for Rome; where, being arrived, he delivered the Letters, and Solicited his Affairs and Interests with a care suitable to his Pretensions; and such as you may guests by the usual diligence of those who aspire to the like Dignities.  
The other Pretenders, who were very numerous, seeing how considerable his Recommendations were, and that his Party was the strongest, begun A la mode of the Court of Rome, to Cross him, and with all their power endeavoured to exclude him, by many proofs of his insufficiency, murmuring against his Person; and which was worse, publishing many things against his Reputation.  
There were two chief Reasons which they set up, to discountenance his Pretensions; the First was, That there was no regard to be taken to those Letters of Recommendation procured by an Adulterous Woman, and bought of her with a great Sum of ready Money: And the Second was, That it would be Scandalous to make the Cousin of a Heretic a Bishop, who also carried the same name of her Family: But not to leave the Reader in doubt upon this Particular; I will explain it all in two words.  
Twelve years before this, Don Mario Miroglio, Canon of the Cathedral Church of Casal, near Kinsman to Lord Provost Miroglio, was retired from that Town to Geneva, to the great displeasure of the Chapter, and the House of Miroglio, who spared for nothing to bring him back from whence he was fled; but he, deriding all their Remonstrances, changed his Religion, to embrace that which is Professed at Geneva; and was afterwards Married; he died some time after, leaving two Male Children behind him, to Eternize his Name in that Church so contrary to the Church of Rome.  
The whole sacred College was informed of that by his enemies, who had the same pretention with him, and above all they chief informed the Cardinal Sforza, as he that spoke the freeliest and spared not the Pope himself, when he was to give his advice, and they were not deceived, for the Cardinal Sforza, going to the Pope, sought at first to make a way into his thoughts, to alter his resolution of making Miroglio Bishop, and seeing for all his endeavours, that all things went on that Lord's side, he was resolute, and could not forbear, saying one day to the Pope in a full Consistory,  
Most holy Father!  
IF your Holiness resolves to make the brother of a heretic a Bishop at least, let it not be the pimp of an adulterous woman.  
The Pope notwithstanding knowing that Cardinal's humour, said only to him, that he was very well acquainted with the merits of the Lord Miroglio.  
Miroglio then made Bishop, contrary to the expectation of all the world, and to the great discentent of his enemies, he gave many thanks to the Countess, besides giving her the thousand Crowns, which he had promised her before, and I will not speak of the many Presents he made to divers persons of the Duke's Court.  
This Prelate wanted for no civility nor respect for the Countess, and honoured her very often with his visits, staying many afternoons with her, whilst the Prince was at Mantua; for when the Duke was at Casal, her house was forbid to all the world, except the Duke, to whom it only belonged to Court that Fair one; one day however, as the Bishop was going out of the Countess' house, to whom he had been making a visit, he met the Duke, who said to him, My Lord Bishop, it were better that your Greatness should enter, and I should go out from this house, then for me to go in, and you to go out. He said this only to give the Bishop to understand, that he who was a Prelate ought to give the Countess the absolution of her sins, which he was going to commit with her.  
But to return to the Duchess, who was, as one may say, forsaken; you must know that seeing all things desperate as to the conversation of the Prince her Husband, she resolved to give her soul some rest, to let him do whatsoever pleased him, without seeming to take any notice, and to give these Lovers leave to take all their swing, with a full resolve to mind nothing for the future, and to take no further care, importuning them no longer, all she had done having been to little purpose.  
The greatest favour she had desired from her Husband had been, That he would content himself with the scandal he gave to his own State, without doing such gross things, to make himself the discourse of other Nations, and the scorn of the Courts of other Princes; and indeed the Duke and the Countess lived in such liberty, that it was verily believed that there was a private divorce between the Duke and his Duchess, so that by the consentment of them both, their marriage was broke; and that he had after that privately married the Countess, which nevertheless was very far from truth; but it was impossible to shut the common people's mouths, as long as this scandal was so public. The Duke cared not to go one step without the Countess, they eat and drunk together, and they never went to take the Arr without one another; if the Duke went from Mantua to Casal, or to Mantua from Casal, he always carried the Countess with him in the Coach, Alone; and for her part, she could not in the journey suffer herself one minute to forsake him who was more to her than she was to herself. I leave these considerations to the Impartial Reader, and not to the Lover, or whosoever he is that reads this Book, and is troubled with amorous fancies; what followed these privacies.  
The impudence of this ●old woman grew to that excess, that not content to have spoilt the good Judgement, Nature, and the Prudence of the Duke, in seeking to govern him her own way, and enjoy him according to the motions of her brutish appetites and believing herself not obliged to keep any measures, triumphing insolently over her shame, it seemed very little to her to be talked on only in her own Country, although she gloried much in that; but she chief aspired at the publishing her favour with the Duke in other Nations, desiring they should know how much she enjoyed with him above all that the greatest Favourites could ever pretend to from any Prince; though she a little feared that the stories of her sin and adultery might come to their ears; She was ambitious that fame should publish her in all places, and that not only the people of Montferrat, and the Mantuans, but all Italy (not to speak of Asia and Europe) should know that she accompanied the Duke every where, that they should see her play, and walk with him, and be eye-witnesses, that she slept with this Prince when she pleased.  
To satisfy this ambition she desired his Highness, that he would carry her to Venice, to see the Solemnity which is there upon Ascension-day, but the Duke, who weighed all things with more prudence, promised he would satisfy her, in sending with her what persons soever she pleased to have in her company, except himself; not thinking it fit for him to appear with her before the Senate, since upon her account he had received a private rebuke from them, as I told you before, but she who only sought to appear there before all the strangers that were at that time at Venice, and to please her ambition more than her curiosity, could not receive his offer; and told him plainly that she would go with no other company than his Highness. In fine she knew so well how to charm him with her caresses, and gave him so many reasons, that she made him resolve to go himself, and carry her with him, as she desired.  
The Duke would make this Voyage incognito, but his Mistress would carry her Sister the Countess Lovize; and three other Ladies with her, all very well dressed, and with them some Maids of Honour and waiting Gentlewomen, which was the reason that those who were not acquainted with the Amours of these two passionate Lovers took this fair Pilgrim for the Archduchess, who went incognito, and to say the truth, this Voyage could not be made with more magnificence nor joy for her, she might have been called a little triumphant Princess, who had always the Prince at her side, who led her by the hand, as well in public as private, and she was so overjoyed to see herself honoured and served by all the Courtiers, who treated her as if he had been their true and lawful Sovereign Princess, that it is impossible ●o find words to express her satisfaction.  
The noise of their arrival in Venice was quickly spread through all the own, and curiosity carried immediately all the ●own in crowds to the streets, ●o see these two Lovers who were so ●uch talked of, not only through all ●…dy, but every where else, the streets ●ere filled with a number almost infi●…te of persons of both sexes, who ●…ouded one another to behold with 〈◊〉 great a grace the Duke led the countess by the hand in the sight of all 〈◊〉 people.  
It is confidently spoken that this Prince spent in this Voyage more than three thousand Pistols in many Presents which he made, he gave amongst the Ladies of his troop five hundred Crowns, and the rest to the Countess, who coveted all that she saw in every shop amongst the Merchants; and when she took notice of any rarity, which was commended in that Country, she spared no caresses nor flatteries to the Duke to persuade him to but that knack upon which she had set her heart. It is certainly believed, that the Duke till that hour had not found any sign of covetousness in the Countess, and till than she had never expressed a desire of any thing besides the love o● her Gallant; but the Air of Venice altered her nature, and what ever she had a mind to, the Duke never contradicted her desires, he was so far from denying her any thing, that one da● as they passed by a Jeweller's shop, the showed this fair Lady a great number ●… precious stones, amongst which the●… was a little Rose of Diamonds, rou●… beset with little Golden Eaglets, which held out their Bills to kiss one another which seemed almost the arms of th●… house of Gonzague, the Countess then looking steadfastly upon that Jewel, and with great desires, without daring to ask it, for fear of being too importunate, the price being more than four thousand Crowns, with some caresses and flatteries, without once opening her mouth to beg it, she obliged her loving captive to give it her with these words, I shall not be much troubled to part with all my money to her, to whom I have given all my heart.  
In returning home they went to Milan, where by chance that day the Comedy of Joseph was acted in music, which the Duke would see; he went thither with the Countess, followed by all his people, and placed himself with the other Ladies of his company in a Box over against the Stage, where he always held his Mistress in his arms, embracing her in the face of the whole Assembly, who took not their eyes off them one moment. In the mean time, when the Scene where the wife of Potiphar is represented, forcing of Joseph to sleep with her, and particularly at that place where that example of Chastity refuses her, and flying away leaves her his Cloak. The Countess turning to the Duke said, I cannot praise this young man, for having thus left an affamished Lady; to which the Duke answered, All the world is not so charitable, nor so complaisant, as I am for thee.  
The scandal which all Lombardy suffered by this Voyage, displeased the Duchess very much, and she could not refrain the expressing her resentments to the Duke; but since her words accompanied with her ordinary Mildness had nothing of indignation in them, they made no impressions upon the heart of her husband, who had entirely sacrificed her to the Countess, with whom he lived in such a manner that the world were almost persuaded that there had passed some Clandestine Marriage between them, which was the Cause of no small displeasure amongst the people who were very much afflicted to see their Prince so effeminated.  
In the mean time the Court of Rome murmured, and bore with much impatience, not only the life which the Duke led with the Countess, but also were more troubled at the Pope's silence, who sought not to remedy these scandals: this noise and these impatiencies increased by the return of Cardinal Leomelini, who came from this Legation at Bologne, who having had some contests with the Duke, sought a revenge: and since we are come to speak of that particular, I think it will not be from the purpose to touch, in passing by, upon it as briefly as I can possible.  
The Nobility of Bologne had invited the Duke to see some Comical representations that were to be in the Town, with a magnificence and preparation extraordinary; and because the Duke could not longer live without his Countess, nor scarce go four steps without having her in his Company, he carried her again with him, as if she had been his wife, to see those shows aforesaid.  
The Gentlemen, that belonged to the Legate Cardinal Leomelini, could not refrain from murmuring with some ●ind of scorn and mocks to the Duke's actions, who with an universal scandal carried along with him an Adulteress, even into the Towns of the resort or the Ecclesiastical State; on the other side those who belonged to the Duke seeing themselves obliged to defend the reputation of their Sovereign, after many injurious words on both sides, came to blows, to the great displeasure of the Nobility in that Town, who saw themselves obliged in that conjuncture to take the Duke's part, against those of the Cardinal, so that the Duke seeing himself affronted, sent to complain to his Eminence, who in stead of satisfaction in punishing the beginners, protected his men, and threatened the Duke himself.  
The Duke went out then from Bologne, all in rage, with design to cause the Cardinal to be murdered in his Coach, and to that end he sent upon Good Friday twenty four men well armed, who, being entered the Town, discharged at the same time many Pistols into the Legates Windows, not that they had designs to kill, but affront him; all the inhabitants were in a maze at the boldness of those Cavaliers, who hazarded their lives with so much confidence, they saved themselves nevertheless without receiving any hurt, although they were pursued by the Guards.  
The Gentlemen of Bologne, and particularly those who had invited his Highness to Bologne, perceiving that the Duke was very angry, and to prevent any further mischief that might happen through this disorder, sent word to Pope Alexander, to the end that he might hinder it, who, making use of his ordinary prudence by a Maxim of Policy, took that employment from the Cardinal, pretending he would give him one more suitable to his Estate, and put in his place the Cardinal Farnese, who was of the last creation, and friend to the Duke.  
Leomelini knew presently from whence this change came, and therefore without losing time returned to Rome to be revenged of this injury, which, to speak truth, was an affront; to arrive at this design, he began presently to inform all the Conclave of the Cardinals, and his Holiness also, of that shameful life which the Duke lived with the Countess, and the great scandal which it gave to all Lombardy. That song which the Courtiers sung quickly spread over the whole Town of Rome, so that in the streets no other thing was talked on.  
That Cardinal was very importunate to have this Duke proceeded against by way of Excommunication, giving them to understand with his usual authority, that if they suffered such an adultery to be unpunished, the Heretics without doubt would prevail, and the holy Chair would suffer a great blow to its reputation, and in fine would condemn the Church for tolerating and permitting adultery.  
But the Duke informed of all these things, caused it to be told the Cardinal Leomelini, That he would teach him to speak, if he would not learn to hold his tongue. For all this his Eminence changed not his note, who being not accustomed to tongue injuries, repeated always the same song, and very far from harkening to peace, or to seek it, the more that he saw himself threatened, he repeated his complaints the more to the Pope and his Cardinals.  
But the Pope Alexander understanding the affairs of the World, nor being ignorant how he ought to treat with a Sovereign Prince, went not so hastily to work, and pressed not so much to undertake a Prince who had merited so well from the holy Chair, nor however, at least, for no other subject but a woman, he well knowing that the Duke was not the only Adulterer, and that that business would reflect upon many Princes who lived in the same disorder, and therefore he gave not much ear to the Cardinal Leomelini, no more than to the other Cardinals, who undertook this business to the Pope, not for any hate they had to the Duke, but because they were set on by this Cardinal.  
The Pope at last seeing himself pressed, and not to be wanting in his duty of Pastor, ordered the Cardinal grand Penetencier, to write to Miroglio, Bishop of Casal, that he should proceed against the Countess by the ordinary ways in the like cases, that is to say, to refuse her the Communion at Easter, and in case that she sought not to mend and change her life, to put an end to that great scandal, after he had given her all those fatherly corrections to which his charge obliged him, he should proceed to Excommunication, or the other Ecclesiastical Censures, which the Councils command to be used in such kind of Cases.  
The Penetencier failed not to obey the order that was given him to write, but not in the manner which the Cardinal Leomelini desired, because he writ to that Prelate in gentle terms, commanding to behave himself in this affair with great Prudence, with a suitable zeal which did not suit with the designs and desires of that Eminence. The Bishop had no sooner received that Letter, but he communicated it to the Duke and the Countess, who derided it, and the more, because the Bishop himself laughed at it too, who would not do any thing against the pleasure of two persons, who had given him his Bishopric.  
This Prelate taking his leave at the end of that discourse, the Duke taking him by the hand said in his ear, My Lord, writ to the Cardinal Penitentier, That when the Pope Chaser all the Bawdy Houses out of Rome, we will drive the Countess from hence. It is true, he said that more to rally with the Bishop, then for any other reason, because he knew very well, that those words would not go so far as Rome; though, as I believe, he had not much cared, or not at all if they had; nay, if they had been told to his Holiness.  
The Bishop returned a Letter to Rome full of good and solid choice Reasons, which showed the necessity there was for the good of the Church, that they should shut their eyes to those disorders, not to enrage the Duke, for if they did so, he feared he might do worse, and might proceed to trouble and punish the repose of the Clergy; in effect, he was not deceived, for if ever it had happened that the Countess had received that discontent, of being struck by any censure of the Church; the Duke, who would also have looked upon himself as injured, had without doubt molested the Clergy and the Bishop; for Princes never want Reason to make Criminals: and since Ecclesiastical Men will not acknowledge themselves Subjects to them, and particularly the Bishops, who look upon themselves as exempt from owning that Title; but, it is a great abuse, and they deceive themselves grossly.  
The Answer of this Prelate happened, I know not by which way, to be communicated to the Cardinal Leomelini, who presently began to murmur against that Bishop, as he did against the Duke, not sparing him, even in the Consistory of the Cardinals; and saying all the ill things he could of him, though falsely: For to speak truth, this Prelate had always behaved himself like an honest man, and has no vices that are worthy of reproaches.  
What dissimulation soever the Holy Father showed, yet he was nevertheless sensibly touched with the Advertisements he every day received of the Scandalous Life of the Duke and the Countess; and therefore moved with Zeal and Compassion, he made many Prayers be offered in every Church, to the end, that it would please God to touch the Heart of that Prince, and draw him from his obstinate hardness of heart, in going on in so infamous a Sin as that was, in which he had so long ●iv'd.  
But at last, making reflection upon the duty he was obliged to, as Sovereign Pastor of the Church, he saw well, that to hold his Peace, would not be to acquit himself well: on the other side also, as he would not proceed in that business with rigour against that Prince; he resolved, being combated with his Duty and his Fear, to employ the most gentle remedies, and to employ in them Persons also vertu●…s, endowed with Piety.  
He sent, to that purpose, the Father C●…eri Alapuchin to Mantua and Casal; he was a Person celebrated as well for the fairness of his carriage, as the excellence of his virtue; with Fatherly instructions setting before him the Service he should do both to God and the Church, and that he should Merit very much from the Holy Chair, if he could overcome the Spirit of this Duke, and obtain any Victory over that of the Countess, to make them leave off this Scandalous Life, so much to the Scandal of the whole Church.  
This good Father Capuchin, guessing the hardness of the hearts of Adulterers, felt in himself some repugnance for this Employment, despairing of ever conquering the Obstination ●… the Duke or to move his heart, which Sin had made harder than a Diamond; nevertheless, without reply to the Pope; he received that Commission which his Holiness imposed upon him, with a ready and as humble obedience which belongs to that Order of Capuchins, and is so suitable to their Habit, in a word, with a Capuchins Obedience, and with Promises, To do all in ●… Power to serve his Holiness and the Church faithfully, he would spare no Cares to procure the Salvation of the Souls of the Duke and the Countess.  
The Pope, in giving this good Father his Blessing, commanded him, that if peradventure he perceived that his Charitable Remonstrances, and Fatherly Corrections had no effect, and that by mild ways he should work nothing upon the Heart of that Prince, that he should proceed to some kind of Rigour and Threatening; in the behalf of the Holy Chair; and yet withal that he should not fail to let the goodness of the Pope be known, and to excuse him to the Duke, if they came so far as to Ecclesiastical Censures against his Person.  
This Father went from Rome with this Order, drawing towards Mantua; but, in passing by Bologne, he communicated all these Orders he had received from His Holiness to the Superior of a Convent of his Order in that Town, and ask his Counsel, How he should Act, in an Affair of so great Importance? they consult together, and both concluded, That it would be better to stay for the opportunity of the Duke's being at Casal, to the end, that he might have the convenience of assaulting both their Hearts together; our Capuchin followed this advice, and in stead of continuing on his way for Mantua, drew towards Casal, where he arrived two days sooner than the Duke, who came thither ●…th the greatest part of the Court.  
This Capuchin being then arrived at Casal, discovered to almost the whole Convent the occasion of his Voyage, and prayed them to join their Prayers to his, to obtain from God a favourable success in so difficult and dangerous an enterprise; but that policy of his succeeded very ill, contrary to his wishes, because the plot being discovered, the Noise of the Subject of his Voyage to Casal was spread through the whole Town, so that he was discovered before the Duke gave him the Hearing; but at last his Highness coming also to be informed, forbidden every body to suffer this Capuchin to come near his Person, and not permit him to enter in any place where he was; which this poor Father perceiving, despairing of acquitting himself of his Commission, and the more because he was told, That the Duke was going suddenly to Mantua; he thought it necessary to take his Journey to Rome, following the Advice given him by the Lord Miroglio himself.  
All the World had great respect for this proceeding of the Court of Rome, and so much the more, because it had employed those of the Order of Capuchins, which is in great veneration in Italy; nevertheless that hindered not the Duke, and the Countess, to mock at all they did to stifle their Love, which became greater and greater; making the Proverb good, That privation begets Appetite; because the more they saw themselves molested, upon the Subject of their Amours, the more it inflamed in them the desire to do all things, that could contribute, in any sort, to their Delights, and what pleased them.  
The Duke was informed of all they said at Rome, touching his Love to the Countess; and, in truth, they spoke of it with too much scorn; making Libels and Satyrs, extremely piquant, against his Person; also, in return, they spared neither the Cardinals nor the Pope himself in the Court of Mantua, though the Duke did what he could to filence them, like a good Prince as he was (for his greatest Vice was that Adultery) so great was his respect to the Holy Chair, he would not suffer them in his presence to speak any thing against the Heads of the Church, however his Courtiers being not of his humour, it was not in his power to make them hold their peace; therefore their insolence grew to that height, that there was seen at Rome some Libels, in which they Challenged the Inhabitants of that Noble City to come to Mantua, to let them see they would revenge the Affront they pretended to have received from them.  
But it is now time for us to visit his Highness in his Tent, to see in what condition his Love is, now he is turned a Soldier.  
The good Fortune of the French had been so prosperous till then, that they had carried their Victorious Arms beyond Flanders, Catalonia, and Roussillon; and though they had not as yet begun to show themselves of that side of Caracene, towards Milan, yet they took the way to be Masters of Italy, to which that Nation ardently aspires: The Enemies beat the Field, and ranged sometimes on one side, and then of another, upon the Banks of the River Tesino, with so much Liberty, they seemed to be absolute Masters; they were commanded by the Duke of Modene, one of the great Captains of our time; and he was accompanied with as many Captains as he had Soldiers; that is to say, they were the Valientest Warriors in the World; for, in truth, at that time the French were so esteemed.  
But the Spaniards perceiving themselves not in a condition to oppose those Invincible Conquerors; and, that the Affairs went but too ill in Lombardy, addressed themselves to the Emperor, desiring him to assist them in the Defence of a place which was so considerable in the Empire; this Monarch granted their requests the more willingly, in regard of his own interest there, as well as that of the House of Austria; and indeed he made it appear, that the Empire was interessed in it, doing upon that account all in his power, and joining with those of that House, with whom he entered into a very strict League, to prevent the Duchy of Mantua from falling into other hands.  
The Duke Charles was to that end nominated Vicar of the Empire, and they gave him to that purpose the Command of an Army, that he joining with the Spaniards might stop the Progress of the French Arms in Lombardy: In the mean time the French thought fit (in their Council of War) to lay Siege to Alexandria, one of the strongest Towns in the Duchy; and although this place was very well Manned and defended, this resolution nevertheless gave much apprehension to the Spaniards, since it was a place of such consequence to any that could possess themselves of it; and for that reason the Duke Charles thought himself obliged in Duty to go himself in Person to assist a place so important to the repose of all Italy; after they had then ordered all things necessary for the succour of Alexandria, he gave Order for the March of his Army; he parted, to that end, from Milan, where he had been Incognito, to speak with the Ministers of Spain, not on purpose, but to take an occasion of passing from Mantua to Montferrat, and by that means to go to Casal, to visit his Countess, who impatiently expected him.  
As soon as he saw her, he expressed his kindness in an extraordinary manner to her, having been absent from her 15 days, so that it was impossible for any to snatch this Prince out of the Arms of that beauty in 2 days; notwithstanding all the Remonstrances of those which were sent to him from the Army, who exhorted him to come in all haste to the relief of Alexandria, which was going infallibly to be lost, if there were not some kind of Succour sent immediately to it.  
The Countess had taken a resolution of putting herself in the Habit of a Man, and to follow the Duke wheresoever he went; and although the Duke seemed to consent to it at first, yet he thought it not very convenient in the end, and therefore she saw herself necessitated to remain at Casal, having obtained a promise from her Lover, That every day she should receive from him an Account of his health, and the progress of his Highness with that of his Army.  
This Prince parted from Casal then the fourth of August, accompanied with his Countess, who went with him in his Coach above three Miles; and also, by an excess of Gallantry, her Brother drove the Coach till they came to a certain Village, where they stopped to take leave of his Highness; who, drawing apart his Wellbeloved, was sometime in conversation with her, but not satisfied with that, and what he had enjoyed of her company all the way, they entered into a Peasant's house hard by that place, were they were together a full hour, to the great heart-breaking of all the World, who waited for them in the Street, although in the mean while the Countess' Brother invented all he could imagine to divert the Company.  
After these two Lovers had given their adiews to each other, having finished all their Ceremonies in the Chamber of that good poor Countryman's house, they went out, and being yet not able to separate for good and all, they stayed at the door, talking together, toying and fooling with one another, and also to make Love half an hour longer, whilst in the mean time there arrived a Post from the Marquis of Faensaldagnia, Governor of Milan, who earnestly desired his Highness, That he would hasten his depart to the Army, where they impatiently waited for him, having absolute need of his presence: who ever had seen the Duke and his Countess so strictly embraced, would have thought they were never to meet again, and if a Gentleman a great friend of the Dukes had not confidently told his Highness that the night came on apace, and that it was not safe for him to enter in the dark into a Country that was the rendezvous of the enemy, I believe the Duke and his Countess would have stayed a good while longer in that place, which yet was not a very convenient one, to make love in. In fine, after that these two Lovers had given some tears to their future absence, they took leave of one another; She returning to Casal, and the Duke marching towards Alexandria, where the Army stayed for him, and where the Spaniards Council of War was held, to consult upon the way to secure that place so considerable to their State, and which they already believed out of their power.  
The Marquis of Faensaldagnia had commanded an apartement for the Duke to be made ready in a Palace, a mile from Alexandria, about which was encamped the Imperial and Spanish Army, as being a very advantageous Post to trouble the enemy, who had no defence from their shot, and were blocked up between the Town and the River.  
The Duke was scarce arrived, but finding that Air unwholesome for him, and being very much heated by the journey, he was presently seized by a Fever, which obliged him to go to bed, but that which added to his trouble, was to see himself in a Country so prejudicial to his health, and where he could not have those things fit for his cure, with that diligence which his disease required, Tortona being distant from him two miles, and that was the nearest Town wherein there were Apothecaries.  
Two things begun to trouble his mind and raise his spleen and melancholy, The one was that such a misfortune happened to him in the First time of his life that he had appeared in the field, fearing it would oblige him to return to Casal, without the glory of having done any thing to show his courage; but that which was his greatest heart-breaking was, That he fancied the Spaniards would believe him a Coward, under which notion he should pass for such through all those Countries, not being able to imagine they would be so civil to lay all the fault upon his Fever, (which really was the cause) but would rather believe it a fair pretence of the Dukes to hid his cowardly heart. The second thing which so tormented him, was, To see himself alone, and deprived of the service of his Countess, as he had been formerly: he resolved to keep his bed notwithstanding, and stay in that Palace which they had provided for him, because he would not lose the sight of the Spaniards, who came to visit him (whilst his Fever thus perplexed him,) and advised with him of the means the most fit to enterprise something upon the enemy.  
This sickness of the Dukes was not carried so close but that it came to the cars of the Countess, who was not a little troubled at it, and, as I believe, it was his Highness that advertised her of it, being confident that she would not fail to come to him as soon as she received that news. It was that which the Duke desired with greatest passion; for being without his Mistress he was without his heart, as he himself assured her brother, who writ word of it to the Countess, by the express command of the Duke.  
As soon as the news of the Duke's sickness arrived at Casal, the Countess was so afflicted, that one would have thought she had no life left, and although they did what they could to persuade her his disease was not great nor dangerous; she nevertheless grieved very much, but she grew desperate when she was informed that the French Army were so much up and down the Country, that it was dangerous travelling between Casal and Alexandria, whither she would go notwithstanding accompanied with only very few on Foot, through by-wa●es, with intention to serve as Physician to this Amorous sick man, she sent out a Scout before her journey, to be perfectly informed of the march of the enemies; that so she might the better choose what way to take.  
She was uncertain in her resolutions in what habit to travel in, whether that of her own sex or of a man; fearful of being known if she should make that journey in her ordinary dress; but having asked Counsel of her Governor in that affair, he advised her to go with very few in her company, and to disguise herself like a man.  
The resolution for parting then being taken, after the Scout she sent was returned, which was the same day that the Duke himself had informed her of his being ill; she discovered her design to the Countess Lovize her sister a little before she went, this Countess Lovize having formerly travelled as a man with a Frenchman, whom I spoke of before, who was her Gallant, offered herself now to accompany her sister in the same posture.  
The Countess Magaret received this offer of her sisters very willingly, and was the more inclined to it, by perceiving they two were so much of a humour as to matter of journeys as well as other things; so away they went very late in the evening accompanied only with their younger brother, and one man, to avoid the encounter of the Freuch, who costed up and down the Country every moment. They went out of the great road, crossing the Fields by little by-paths, that were very much about, and made their journey much longer than the way they quitted had done, but as ill luck would have it, they met with what they avoided, and fell into the snare they took such pains to avoid.  
They rested at night in a Village a little way off St Saviour, without making themselves known to their host, hoping to continue their way towards Alexandria very early in the Morning, but they were deceived, as the Proverb says, He that reckons without his Host must reckon twice. For it was scarce two hours within night, when there arrived twelve Spanish Cavaliers, (perhaps the Host himself had been their Spy) who, pretending to be Frenchmen, assaulted the Inn where our amorous Pilgrims were lodged. These enemies came with so great a noise one would have thought they had been the whole French army; the poor Earl, who had accompanied his sisters, not having been accustomed to the noises of War, and such kind of assaults as that, being afraid of his life, got up all trembling to the highest Garret of the house to hid himself, thinking the very Flies were Horses, and believing every Horse was a complete Anny of the enemies.  
In the mean time these two Countesses, disguised like men, were not yet got into bed, and stayed still in the Chamber, almost in despair, yet the Countess Lovize raised herself a little out of her Fear, when she heard them speak French, having been used to men of that Nation, though in quality of Friends and not enemies, were those she had formerly conversed with, which these Soldiers pretended not to be.  
These brave Cavaliers were not much troubled to find out that these assieged persons were Females and not Males, as their habits spoke them; and it was the better for the Ladies that it was so, because that after they had given them the divertizement of a two hours' siege, they went away betimes in the Morning to seek some other fortune, and left our Fair guests at Liberty without suffering any damage from them at all, unless it were some few kisses which they were obliged to give them, and some other little rudenesses they offered them, which need not be explained to the Reader.  
The Countess Margaret was not a little mortified to be surprised by such an assault as this, but on the contrary, the Countess Lovize was overjoyed in having gained the affection of these besiegers, and had diverted herself with those Counterfeit enemies, as may very well be imagined.  
They went on their journey early in the Morning, towards Alexandria, although the Earl their brother advised them to return to Casal.  
Certainly these illustrious travellers wanted Conduct, to trust themselves in a journey without any train in the time of war, and in a Country that swarmed with Soldiers, not being ignorant that the enemies ranged every where, even to the very Gates of Casal two causes nevertheless excused then Love and Curiosity; for in effect, there was nothing but the Love of the Countess Margaret to her Gallant, and the dishonest curiosity of the Countess Lovize her Sister, which made them hazard that little honour they had left; For certainly, if they would have demanded a Convoy for their safety, they should not have been denied it; but, who is ignorant that Love is blind, and always in haste.  
The Countess Margaret intended to relate this rencontre to the Duke, but her Brother and Sister thought it not very convenient, lest it might give some jealous trouble to that sick Lover, and therefore this past under Silence.  
At last, being come to their Journeys end, into the Duke's presence, who was in Bed, they did not trouble themselves with great Preambles and Ceremonies, nor to keep him in long discourses; but their first conversation was Embraces with all imaginable tenderness, which she gave to this poor sick man, who returned the same to his Mistress (whose heart was pierced with grief) although the Room was filled with many Captains, and some of the principal of the Army.  
The Countess scarce had begun her Caresses to the Duke, but he seemed much amended, and so much, that he looked like one that never had been Sick, and also all that day he had no Fever; which made it believed, that the Countess had brought some Antidote with her to drive away the Sickness of her Lover.  
The General of the Neapolitan Cavalry, who was by the Duke when his Beauty entered the Chamber, taking leave presently of his Highness, i● going to the Door, said to one of his Friends who was in the Company, We may very well take leave now, and go our ways, for the Duke will be no more for us.  
Almost all the Commanders of the Army did nothing but grumble in the Camp at the Countesses coming thither; believing, that as long as the Duke had this Woman with him, he would forget his duty.  
But, for all that, they found themselves happily deceived, because the Duke recovered as he was, though perhaps not altogether cured, by the sight of the Countess, gave himself up in good earnest to the exercise of his Charge.  
It was a strange amazing sight, to see this Prince ride round about his Camp on Horseback with his Mistress, giving the necessary Orders to his Army, where he did wonders, that being his first time of Appearance in the Field; so that there was very few persons that did refuse him the Honour he had Merited, of delivering Alexandria; he knew so well how to make his Advantages of time and place, that the Besieged became in a little time besiegers themselves; and filled with extreme fears, those, who had been the most likely as Enemies and Besiegers, to have given a mortal apprehension to his whole Army. The Duke forbore not for all this, to give the best part of his time to his Amours with the Countess, his Ague being turned to a Tertian, which gave him some respite, but this alteration made it the more dangerous.  
And since these Ladies had not brought with them  suitable to their Sex, they presently sent away an ●…press to furnish them; it being very unpleasant to the Duke to see her who possessed his heart, under any habit but her own; not at all caring to see her dressed like a Man as well in the Chamber, as in the Camp, whither he often carried her.  
As for what belonged to the vert●… of the Countess Lovize, she lost not one hour of the day by idleness, her great pleasure being to receive the Visits of the Chief Commanders in that Army, amongst whom she passed he time with such satisfaction, that she often lost herself, so that it was impossible for her Sister to find her; it being certain that she had above half a dozen Favourites, who failed not to content her to their power; and for that reason a certain Florentine Gentleman, who, as well as the greatest Commanders, had received from the Countess Lovize some Favours, told a Comrade of his, That he found the Whores of Casal very obliging.  
The News of the Arrival of this Lady into the Camp, and of the Liberty which she afforded every one, to offer her their Service, as well as the goodness she had showed to that Commander we mentioned before, quickly spread itself into the French Camp, so that it afforded the best sport in the World: and there was a person, who, discoursing with the Duke of Modena of this Fair Courtesan, said, in derision of her, Li Frances, Fanno Le Puttane, egli spagnoli le godono; The French create the Whores, and the Spaniards enjoy them.  
This he said in reflection upon her first Gallantry with the French Monsieur, which I have already told you of.  
In fine, The French Army raised the Siege from before Alexandria in the night, the 16th. of August, after they had besieged it three Months; and they dislodged themselves with so little noise, and so secretly, that their Enemies themselves that were round about them perceived it not until morning after the Sun was up, and that from the Town Walls there was no Tents, nor any thing else to be seen.  
The News was presently carried to the Duke, who was yet in Bed with his Goddess; he expressed no small displeasure of this unexpected depart of his Enemies, chief having resolved to give them Battle the day following, believing, the Victory would certainly have been his, if he could have once dsiputed it with them.  
So, as soon as he was up, he went to visit the Batteries that the French had made against the Town, having no body in his company but his Countess; her Sister, the Countess Lovise being gone in other Company; they stayed nine days at Alexandria, and in the evening of the last day the Duke went away, accompanied by some of the chief Commanders amongst the Spaniards; and after he had given the necessary Orders for the conservation of that place, and recommended the care of the Army to his Lieutenant, he returned to Casal with his Lady.  
The joy of his arrival at Casal was Celebrated, that Town endeavouring to show him all the Honour imaginable, in acknowledgement, that they looked upon him as the Deliverer of a place of that importance; but, after all, those Feasts were kept with much modesty.  
The greatest pleasure of the Duke, was, to pass the best and greatest part of the day in going here and there with the Countess thinking no more of the Army than of any thing else, to the great astonishment of all the World; who could not enough admire, how a Man could be so much devoted to the love of that Woman, for he was quite contrary to other men, who love change, and often turn their backs, not only to Whores, but even to their Wives, after they have Married them: My dear Reader, I believe thou very well understandest me, and that it is not necessary I should explain myself further, and therefore I will only tell thee, That this Prince, the more he enjoyed his , the more his desive was kindled towards her; and in the Mornings, when he risen out of bed he was more passionately in Love with her, then at night when he went to bed to this Countess; the Fire of his Amorous passion was rekindled at those times that others make use of for their repose.  
From that time the Duke failed not one day of that Summer to Visit his Countess at her own house, and when they were alone they made no scruple to pull off their , and go to Bed together, without any more Compliments; The one, as if he were a Prince without a Principality; the other, as if she were one of those Courtesans of Rome, that are always in their Smocks waiting for their Bravoes. And although the Duke did often force himself to give Audience to all the World that came to his Court, yet it was in such a way, it was easily seen that he did it with Chagrin, and against his mind, and carried himself like an extravagant; and it is not hard for me to believe it, since that all his thoughts, his soul and heart breathed nothing else but his love of the Countess.  
But, for to give more convincing Proofs of this, and to assure the whole World, and chief his own Subjects, that the Countess was absolutely his, and possessed all his Affections, he appointed her two Men for Guards, who wore the same Livery of his own Footmen, with order to follow this Lady wherever she went, and to Guard her House night and day; this so public testimony of the Duke's love, made her be respected, and more esteemed than ever, and also feared by every one, so much it would have been looked upon as Sacrilege, to have given her the least displeasure, or discontent; and there were at that time four persons condemned to Banishment for having their Tongues a little too long, and had talked too lewdly against this beloved Lady.  
There was also another had the like ill Fortune, but he rather out of Raillery, then for any thing else; hearing the Barrenness of the Countess talked on, who had no Children, neither by her Husband, nor the Duke, began to laugh, and said, I non Faceva Fancialli, Perche voleva esser troppo seminata.  
This poor Babbler carried not his words to Purgatory, for they put him in Prison for some days, and he had stayed there longer, but for the Intercession of that person whom he chief had offended by his words, and was not inclined to Revenge, although what had been said had not much pleased her.  
Certainly that Lady deserved the affections of so great a Prince very much, being adorned with all the advantageous qualities which she possessed; she had a way of speaking so gentle and so attractive, that she captivated all hearts, and obliged them to love her; I do not mean here of her extraordinary and charming way with which she caressed the Duke, having no expressions capable to describe them, but she was inclined to oblige every body, so it were not to injure herself, nor as one may say, pick her own pocket, for in that case she had no memory, being like other women, who are sparing, not to say covetous; Pride never set his foot in her Carriage: but, on the contrary, the more she saw herself in the Prince's Favour, the more did the desire in her increase to Speak Familiarly with all People, and to converse modestly with every one: The Balls, Feasts, and Recreations of taking the Air, always took up her thoughts, and her mind went no further than those noble Divertisements; and nevertheless, when she chanced to meet the Duke in any place, she expressed a carelessness of all things else besides the pleasing sight of his person, which she esteemed above all; Anger nor Vanity never transported her; and if sometimes she had occasion to Chide the Servants of her House, she did it without those transports so ordinary to other Ladies; and also those  she had, so rich above the other Ladies of her quality in the Court, she wore them without vanity, pride, or scorn, and contempt to those that had not the like; It is true, she frequented the Churches more through Custom then any other reason; and if she went to the Mass, it was only to be seen, and to see; Yet, I must tell you, that she went thither sometimes, being Invited to it on purpose by the Ecclesiastical Men, to the end of giving more Lustre to the Solemnities, which were at that time Celebrated in the Church; and also to show her the great esteem they had of her Person, with which nevertheless she was not satisfied. And although she had a Face Fair and agreeable enough, yet there is nothing very lascivious; but, whilst the Duke was living, when she was near him, she looked upon him as if she would have devoured him with her Eyes, her looks at that time being the Effects of which, her Impudent Love was the Cause.  
But, above all this, there was some light of Prudence shined in her carriage, which appeared in effect a Miracle, because this Fair one was not like those Women that affect the Trade of St. Placidia to please their Friends; that is to say, For all her great power over the Duke, and that was so absolute, she could dispose of his Authority as she pleased, without the feat of displeasing him; she yet kept herself for all that within the bounds of an humble modesty, giving his Highness' thanks for all the Favours he did her; assuring him, That she was more than satisfied to enjoy alone the Loves of so great a Prince: And the more the Duke offered his Service to her, and desired her to make use of his Authority as she pleased, the less did she importune him with Requests; so that when the Duke pressed her to ask some Favour at his hands, she usually made answer, His Highness granted her Favour great enough, to let her enjoy his Person.  
After all this she Favoured whom she pleased, and who were recommended to her, which were without number, there being none ignorant, how great her power was with the Prince, whose heart she possessed, and governed his whole will; and, for that reason every one made Addresses to her, to help them in their Affairs, according as they needed her Favour; but, on her side, she knew very well what kind of Favours she was to demand of his Highness, not to displease him; and she very rarely pressed him to grant any extraordinary matter, if she had been of an humour to enrich herself, she wanted no opportunities of doing it, and the Duke would never have hindered her; on the contrary, he advised her to do it, and gave her all the means possible for it; so far, that when any one addressed to himself to obtain a Request, he used to say, For that you must Petition none but the Countess and that was the only way to obtain their end.  
That Charitable Countess had never yet the Repute of doing any thing out of Interest; but it has always been thought, that all she did was to purchase to herself Friends, rather than through hopes of any gain, expressing always her aversion to that Lucre; It is true notwithstanding, that when any one offered her some Fine thing, or considerable Sum of Money, she would do as those, who, laying their hands upon the Present offered them, usually say, There is no need of this, and yet take it willingly enough.  
The greatest care of this Lady, and what she sought after with all the Passion imaginable, was the Advancement of her Brother, which put the Duke to a stand, what more to give him; having already Honoured him with Employments and Office very considerable, and much above his deserts; or at least if he did any way Merit them, it was very little: nevertheless the Countess never ceased begging for him, and could have wished her Brother raised above all the Princes of that Court.  
The Arch-Duchess heard this news with a great heart-breaking; and notwithstanding all the efforts of which her virtue was capable, she could not hinder herself from being extremely displeased at the Advancing of that young Lord, who never had a pretending Merit: but, that which occasioned her greatest Affliction, was, to see her chiefest Servants rather cast down, then raised in the least; and used with scorn, that deserved to be treated with Honour; which caused these poor unfortunate Persons to say, That the Duke showed more favour to the Brother of an Adulterous Countess, then to the Servants of a Princess his lawful and true Wife: and amongst other things, witness many Libels and Satyrs, which I omit.  
Although this innocent Princess received some kind of Mortification from all this, however she never had a resentment against the Duke, because in the first place she plainly saw, that he did nothing out of malice, but only to satisfy that blind passion, which had enslaved him in the Chains of that Concubine: And Secondly, she esteemed it not just nor reasonable to compare these Gentlemen, persons of great Merit, with that Earl, that was a Man of no Honour.  
In the mean time this Countess possessed all the Favour of this Prince, and kept alone the two Keys of his Treasures; That of his Heart, by Love, enjoying him without interruption: and the other, his Favours; since the Duke was so well pleased when his Mistress made any Request to him; that she, knowing him of that humour, made pretensions to him only for his satisfaction, as it is easily to be known by this Letter following.  
My little Heart!  
CAEsar comes to tell me, that thou hast an intention to ask some Favour of me, in behalf of a Person that addressed to thy Courtesy, and because thou wert apprehensive of displeasing me, thou didst not mention it yesterday in the afternoon, that we were together. This way of thine in being bashful, makes me believe that thou dost not love me: for certainly, if thou didst love me, thou wouldst act as freely with me, as I do with thee; also if I had ever yet refused thee any thing, I confess thou mightest with reason ask me nothing: but since I am so glad to grant thee all things, why art thou unwilling to ask me any thing? To what end is Love painted blind and naked, if it is not to teach Lovers Familiarity one with the other? The Principality is mine, and I am thine, but the authority is common to us both, that is to say, thou mayst make use of me, and I of the State; if thou lovest me then ask, command, and love thy  
Charles.  
But notwithstanding all these Protestations and Testimonies of love from the Duke, this Fair One would never importune him by ask any favour that would bring the least disquiet to his Highness, having wit enough to discern between those favours she was to ask for his consideration, and those she was to demand for herself. That for which she importuned him the most, and rung in his ears from Morning until night, was, That he would carry her every where with him; and not being pleased with staying so long at Casal, desiring to go into the Country, and which was worst of all, she would not go that journey, unless the Duke went with her. The Duke having at that time a Fancy to see Gennes, she begun to second it, and to solicit his Highness by all kind of Supplications, not sparing all the flatteries and courtships imaginable, to make him condescend to her desire, who was already her slave of Love, which she held in chains, she met with no small repugnance, nay much more than she found when she was disputing with him concerning her journey to Venice, which, nevertheless the Duke had made chief upon her consideration.  
Notwithstanding she got the victory, and according as she desired they parted from Casal in the beginning of July with a very small train, and without discovering his Highness' designs to any, he made as though he would go to Mantua, not letting it be known which way he would go.  
The Genoises did not a little wonder to hear of the arrival of this Prince in their Town but more to see him there, since he was there before they could hear of his intentions of coming to that place, and there were many that would not believe that the Duke was come thither in so unseasonable a time, and without any business there; but when they saw him accompanied with his Countess, they laid aside their wonder, all the world believing that that journey was made for the satisfaction alone of that Favourite, who had certainly a curiosity to see that Town, which is esteemed one of the most curious that is to be seen.  
The Senate, following its ordinary generosity, received the Duke with all the demonstrations of Love that they are accustomed to pay to Princes, who travel incognito, and regaled him with a great number of sweetmeats and other refreshments, and besides that honour, he received many visits from public as well as private persons; but to say the truth, the Duke not going thither to no other end but to divert the Countess, and satisfy her desires, he was not very glad to be importuned by all these visits, it not being convenient for either of them to receive those Civilities, and therefore to many it was said, the Duke was not in his Lodging, and it was no great Lie for those few days he stayed in that Town, which scarce amounted to three days, he did nothing else but go up and down with his Beloved, whom he led by the hand, followed by the Countess Lovize her sister, and two other Ladies who came to keep her company, which were also led by the Courtiers.  
Two things appeared strange to the inhabitants of Genes: The first was the Duke's entering into a Church to hear Mass, kneeled upon one step with the Countess, to whom he did nothing but talk from the beginning to the end, as one may say, From L' introibo until Deo gratias, de L' in principio, which made some say, That the Religion of that Prince consisted in words and not in deeds. The second thing so extraordinary to the people was, That when he went to see the Palace, he still led the Countess by the hand, as if he had been her Squire; but for my part I do not think that such a wonder, because though he led her in public places, yet there was not so much cause for wonder, to see him lead her in a place where she was not to be seen by so many. There was at that time at Genes, a woman Cavalier, who one day discoursing with some of that Town concerning the Ladies that followed the Duke, or rather, whom the Duke followed, and amongst the rest speaking of the licentious disordered Life and Carriage of the Countess Lovize, happened to say, When the Duke shall have dishonoured the rest of you Monsieurs of Genes, he will possibly drive away all the Cows to Rome.  
But the Genois, who was as witty as pleasant, made him this reparty, I assure you that his Highness shall do nothing, because I know for certain that the Romans love the Calf's better than the Cows.  
The same day the Duke went from Genes, there were two Father Capuchins, the most famous in all the Province, who had undertaken to accomplish that which the Father Catori could not, and who demanded Audience of his Highness, pretending they had Orders from Rome to speak to him, pressed on to that, as some thought, by the Cardinal Duraz●…, archbishop of Genes, a Person of a singular goodness, whose Zeal has not only edified those of his Church, but of all the World.  
But the Countess guessing very well for what those good Fathers came for, and what was their design, that she left not the Duke a moment, nevertheless because they were so importunate to speak with the Duke in private, saying, That they had great things to communicate to him concerning his Person and State; The Countess was forced to withdraw, leaving the Duke in the Chamber with the Capuchins.  
The discourse which these good Fathers had with the Duke was full of holy Zeal, and they spoke with so much tenderness, that one of them melted into tears; at every word, they conjured him in the Name of God, to forsake this scandalous life, which he led before all his Subjects, or, to say rather, in the sight of all the World; they added further, that, The Pope himself had wept many times, and that his clemency once being at an end, he should be obliged then to proceed to other Courses. They forgot nothing to inspire into him some Christian Sentiments of Heaven and Hell, and they let him see the impossibility there was to attain to the first, whilst he led this disordered and licentious life, and the infallibility of his falling into the other. They alleged to him many Places out of the holy Scripture, which they pointed out to him, to let him see that the sins of the Prince was often a cause of God's punishing the people, by an infinite number of Miseries, Wars, and Plagues. In fine, they set before him all the most solid and strong Reasons, that their Wits could furnish them with, not sparing for complaints, and threats from the Court of Rome, protesting to him that if his Highness did not alter his Course of life, that Court was resolved to proceed against him by the ways of Ecclesiastical Censures the most severe. Briefly, they were not niggardly of all that a true Charity, with which they were animated, could suggest to them, to make the Duke quit his love to the Countess, and deliver himself from that shameful slavery that had kept him so long a time in bondage.  
During the Conversation of these holy Fathers with the Duke, the Countess was harkening at the door, where she could hear every word distinctly: she was in despair, with the fear that the Duke should yield at last to all these Counsels of these Fathers; he heard them with much Patience, without saying the least word, till at last, weary of hearing them longer, and to hear the insolent reproaches, which they made him, he answered them, That they had Chastity in their Convent, and at Rome the Cardinals had Wenches, and the eonvenience of diverting themselves, and therefore he did not wonder at their speaking to him in that manner. And as one of them replied something that touched the reputation of the Countess, who, as I have already said, was behind the door, she came into the room, and interrupted their discourse, and pretending to speak low, she said to the Duke, so that these good Fathers heard her well enough,  
Send these Fathers to the Convent, and for us let us go to Casal.  
After that his Highness taking his wellbeloved by the hand, began to say,  
These Fathers would have Us wiser than the Princes and Patriarches of the old time, who had at least one wife and one Concubine, not to speak of a great number besides, of both the one and the other.  
To which one of the Capuchins replied,  
But your Highness does not see that we are now in the times where the Gospel is to be observed, and that it is indisputable for us, to act like Jews, now we are Catholics.  
The Prince, touched to the quick by these words, answered them with a threatening and fierce air,  
My Fathers, without any other consideration, I will throw you out of the Window, and so we will use like Jews those people that understand not how to treat with Catholic Princes.  
Having said that, he presently called one of his Gentlemen, and commanded them to conduct those Religious men out of the Palace: after that he turned his back upon them, and went into a Chamber with the Countess, who being in great wrath at these Fathers, protested in grinding her teeth, that she would never give alms to a Capuchin, and she did not only say so, but do so, so that some people said, That the taste of the Capuchins of Genes had taken away the power of eating from the Capuchins of Casal, and that these last did penance for the faults those others had committed.  
Truly if these holy Fathers had had to do with some other Prince, it might have been feared that they had not come off at so cheap a rate; but for good luck to them they spoke to a very good Prince, who was of no ill nature, preferred quiet above all things.  
The Duke entertained himself often with the proceeding of the Capuchins, in his return to Casal, and particularly one night in the Inn at Saravalla, where he was lodged, he said to her,  
My Heart, if I have loved thee hitherto, to satisfy my Love which would have it so; I will love thee henceforward, to make them mad that would not have it so.  
Upon that the Countess taking her time, replied, If your Highness should cease loving me, you would let people see you are afraid of Monks.  
All this was done to turn the Duke from the love of this crafty woman, but in vain; for all the trouble the Monks gave themselves, who came as Ambassadors from Rome, served for no end but to inflame the hearts of these two Lovers the more, for since the Countess apprehended the loss of the Duke's favour, fearing that some time or other he might suffer himself to be touched by some remorse of Conscience, she employed all her Caresses that her Love could devise, and such Charms she made use of, that they were assuredly powerful enough to have provoked our Pope Alexander himself to have committed the sin of adultery with her, although he is a man whose life is without reproach; so that the Duke who was tender in his love, and loved to be made much of, seemed to melt as lead in the Fire, and appeared in that encounter as if he would have sooner consented to lose his State, than his Mistress.  
After that Voyage the Duke left her at Caesal, whilst he went to Mantua about some particular affairs, he stayed there above a Month without going to see the Countess, who was so afflicted for not seeing him that possessed her heart, not satisfied with his Letters, which she received from him every week; she went out very early one Morning towards Mantua, to find his Highness; but her good fortune hastening her joy, she met the Duke upon the way, who went with her to Casal, renewing her caresses, and making amends for the time lost.  
Some months after it happened, to the great displeasure of the Duke and resentment of the Countess, that many Copies of a Manuscript, entitled, Whoredom, in form of Letters, under the name of an unknown Author, were sent to divers of the chief Nobility of Casal and Mantua, and also into the Convents, the Duke was much troubled, being described there as the Prince of Whores, and chief of the baudy-houses; and that which enraged him the more was, That it spoke of the other Princes of Italy with Eulogies and Expressions of respect. That Satire said more than it is possible to imagine against the house of the Countess, and it was impossible to speak with more infamy, and it was the more so, because it mingled truth and lies together, but in such a manner, that it all looked like truth; and certainly it was reasonable enough, for they were a Family of Six persons, whose life was the horror of all the World. In the mean time, these Earls and Countesses had no great reason to be angry at what was there said, if they had been Lovers of truth: For their house had for certain been a perfect bawdy-house, there being Six Ladies in that Family who lived almost publicly like common Whores, I say, almost, because there were three of them who carried it with more discretion, which were the two wives of the brothers to the Countess, and one of the Countess Lovizes daughters, who acted their parts more privately, and yet nevertheless would not suffer a Friend to die: but as for the rest, which were the Countess Margaret, and Lovize, and another of their sisters, kept by a Mantua Lord; they kept no measures neither in their speeches nor manner of Life, so that they did all that they fancied was lawful, and so their house merited the name was given it.  
This good and jolly company were present with the Duke in all his divertizements, which the more angered all Persons of Honour, and gave a great scandal to all the people of the Duchy of Mantua, and also to all Italy.  
This Prince led this dissolute and licentious life with the Countess fifteen year, and so gave example to other Gentlemen of his Court to pass their time with the other Ladies, which I have told you of; so that with reason her house was called a bawdy-house, there being no other discourses heard there but what were impudent and dishonest, every one taking a pride in speaking as wickedly as they could: This obliged all the other Ladies of the Town, that were of Honour and Quality to avoid this abominable Company, and fly from those beastly women, as from the Devil of Hell; Many other accidents happened to this Prince by his love to the Countess every day; but a hundred Pens would scarce be enough to recount them all: I have writ the Story of this amour but superficially, for to repeat all things would be too tedious, besides there are many things in it which, if writ, would cause nothing but scandal.  
The love of the Duke was at this pass that he delighted in nothing but the love of the Countess, when it pleased Heaven to take away that great scandal from the eyes of all the people, and put an end to that crime which caused so many others, by giving a Period to the life of him that committed it.  
This Prince than was taken in the beginning of September, in the Year 1665, with so violent a Fever, that the first minute it was thought Malignant by all the Physicians; and soon after, not only dangerous, but desperate: The Duchess appeared sensibly afflicted with this Sickness of the Dukes, and omitted nothing that she thought could help him with all possible diligence; and which was more commendable, she assisted him with all the affection of her heart; which caved many to say, That if she had been in the same condition as the Duke her Husband was in at that time, he would not have been carried with so much heat and passionate care to her recovery.  
There was Command given to all the Churches, To say their Prayers to God for the health of the Duke; but since there was no hope given on that side for his Recovery, he was advised to make his Will, which he did orderly enough: And it is true, that in thinking of his Countess he sighed bitterly; and, desiring to leave her something, he was silent a little while; after that, giving another great sigh, he made known his Intentions.  
My Lord the Bishop, who assisted him in those last moments of life, made him understand, That for the satisfaction and edification of his Soul, he ought to ask forgiveness of her Highness his Wife, for the Injury he had done her, to which he seemed very much inclined; and then causing that Amiable Duchess to come near his Bed, he embraced her with his left Arm, and taking her hands with his right, he said to her weeping, Princess, my soul, this minute I am come to know how much I have offended God by my Sin; and I also know that which I have committed in relation to you; but my Lord Bishop, who takes a care of my Soul in this extremity, assures me, That I may hope for the Pardon of the good God; therefore I pray you that on your side also, you will give me some testimonies of your forgiving me also.  
The Tears and Sighs of that poor Princess stopped her speech, and would not let her pronounce one word; but they wrought so sensibly upon all that were present, that the noise of their Groans and Tears, which they could not in pity refrain to so touching a sight, was very mournful, and so lamentable a hearing, that the Bishop fearing it might add to the affliction of that sick Prince, counselled the Duchess to retire; and to that end took her by the Arm and led her into another Room, where she began to weep in good earnest.  
Towards the evening of that same day the Duke called for the young Prince his Son, to whom he gave his blessing; and after he had given him some Instructions of Living well, he concluded in these words; My very dear and wellbeloved Son, obey your Mother, and the more, because she is a woman of great Virtue; and take not example from your Father, who is a great Sinner.  
The next day, being the 15 of September, he passed out of this miserable Valley of Tears into the place of eternal Felicity, leaving the whole Court in an extraordinary sadness, and almost inconsolable grief; the noise of his Death was no sooner spread through the Town, but all the People was seen in Tears; and with reason, for set aside his Sin, which after all that can be said, proceeded from the weakness of humane nature, he had all the Virtues; or to say better, in a word, he had all qualities necessary to make a great Prince, and a great Monarch.  
He used his Subjects very gently, and helped them in all things to his power; having been often heard to say, That he chose rather to be a Poor Prince, and to have rich Subjects, then to have his Subjects poor, and to be himself a very Opulent Prince. Above all, no person ever went away discontented from him: He also recommended to the Judges, Mercy and Justice; in fine, in two Ages there had not been seen in Italy a Prince like him, if the Love he had for that Countess had not hindered him from exercising that goodness, virtue, and courage, which were so natural to him.  
The People wept for him, and should not yet dry up their Tears, if the goodness of that Princess-Regent, and the hopes they have in the vettue of this young Prince, the sole Heir of the House of Gonzague, and only Child to the Deceased Duke; which is brought up by that Mourning Turtle with so much care, did not comfort them; his virtue, his watchfulness, and assiduous attachments to the Government of the State, has Captived the hearts of all the People, and makes him still be adored and lov●d by all the World.  
The little Duke, of the Age of fourteen years, gives no little consolation to the Duchess his Mother, and to her Subjects; and I persuade myself easily, that those incomparable qualities which beg●n to shine in his Person, will make his name and memory eternal amongst those Great Men, whose name is in Veneration.  
He already receives Ambassadors with so good a Grace, and with so much sweetness, that they cannot enough admire, how there can be so much virtue and capacity in an age so tender.  
It is thought, that the Death of the Duke is like to bring no good to the House of the Countess; and already they begin to take away those Employments with which the late Duke had Honoured them, to the great satisfaction of all the World; and to say truth, the abasing of that House is the Subject of the Mirth of a great many; and so much the more, because those Earls, in consideration of their Sister Margaret, had held up their heads so high, that (as 'tis said) they could scarce with the end of their Nose touch their equals without much difficulty.  
This Change will certainly be very cruel to them, and they will have much trouble to live with the young Prince, after another manner than they did with His Father; it being very likely, that they not having been used to obey, they will not know how to carry themselves to the Prince as their lawful Sovereign Lord, having accustomed to treat with the late Duke as Familiar Friends, and not as Subjects, and therefore they have reason to fear, that this alteration will bring a notable change into their Family; foreseeing very well, that if that young Prince once take upon him the Government of the State, he will make them act with him after quite another manner than they did with his Father: And this is one of the Chief Reasons why I will conclude this Story by the Death of the Duke, without speaking further of the Countess, no more then of other things, waiting for some other occasion, which we shall not want in time.  
I will not however finish this Story, my dear Reader, till I have told you my Thoughts, which is, that you have not taken so much delight in Reading it, as I did in Composing it; if you had been an Eye-witness of all that I have written, I doubt not but you also would have been as well pleased; and I know it by myself, who having seen all this History, and all the passages of this Amour, I receive more satisfaction in committing it to Paper: if you have not received what you expected, or that my Style has not pleased you, or if by misfortune you meet with faults, I prithee think, if thou art discreet, that Love is blind and hath a Band upon his Eyes, so hard, that it is impossible for him to see either his own Faults, or that of others; I say of others, because if you should have a mind to undertake my Correction, I shall not be of an humour to follow your Sentiments; it suffices me, that I had design to divert you; but, if my ill Fortune has deprived me of that good luck, I desire you to arm yourselves with patience as well as I.  
FINIS.