THE Secret History OF THE Duke of ALANCON AND Q. Elizabeth.  
A True History.  
LONDON, Printed for Will with the Whisp, at the Sign of the Moon in the ecliptic. 1691.   

THE DUKE OF ALANÇON.  
THERE are few men, who have not heard speak of Catharine de Medicis. They all know, that this Princess, who was without doubt one of the most politic Women of the Age, was also one of the most Ambitious.  
One of the things that she most hearty desired, was to put a Crown upon the head of every one of her Children. Charles the Ninth, her eldest Son living, was already King of France, and the Duke of Anjou, King of Poland; there remained only the Duke of Alançon to be crwoned. The particular Affection which she always bore towards that Prince, made her most eagerly desire his Settlement. When the sudden death of Charles the Ninth, recalling the Duke of Anjou from Poland, she believed it would be easy for her to have his place supplied by the Duke of Alançon. But the Polanders fearing, lest the Duke should one day abandon them, according to his Brother's Example, they cast their Eyes upon Stephen Bathori, Prince of Transilvania, who had entred Poland at the head of some Troops which he had got together.  
Catharine saw her self then obliged to take other measures, to make her designs successful; she was not long without finding new Expedients. She had one of those intrigueing Spirits, that seem to rouse themselves at Obstacles, and never fail of Inventions to bring about what they have once undertaken.  
Elizabeth reigned then in England. She had for a long time lured all the Princes of Europe with the hopes of espousing them, although at the bottom, she was resolved never to come to a conclusion of a Marriage, which would give her a Master in the Person of a Husband; and would weaken at least an Authority, which she too well loved, to be willing to share it with any other.  
But whereas she was extremely politic, and took delight in attracting Courtship, which the knowledge of her design had made her lose, she was careful to keep it very secret, and it was not discovered until a long time after.  
Catharine of Medicis, for all her Policy, fell into the Net. She believed that the easiest way to accomplish her end, was to mary the Duke of Alançon to Elizabeth. Although she had her Agents and Pensioners in all Courts, she omitted not to sand expressly into England a Gentleman name du Lac, for whom the Duke of Alançon always had a great deal of Friendship. She joined to the knowledge which she had of his Fidelity and Address, all the Instructions necessary for the managing of so delicate an Affair. He made the Overture of it to Elizabeth, in a private Audience that he obtained of her. She seemed to harken to his proposals with pleasure. She expressed a great deal of acknowledgement for Catharine, much esteem for the Duke of Alançon, and an extreme desire to see him. He gave her to understand, that it would make too great a noise to undertake a Journey without other precautions. After some difficulties, she assented to all the Assurances that were exacted from her, well knowing, that she should never want a pretence to colour a rapture at her need.  
Catharine, whom a blind passion for her Son's advancement, had deprived of part of her usual penetration, was the first that suffered her self to be surprised by Elizabeth; and the Duke of Alançon was not sorry to remove from the Court of France, which was then full of troubles and divisions, to go and take possession of a peaceable Crown, which they made him hope for in England.  
But before we pass further, it is necessary to say something of the Persons, that are to have place in this History.  
Elizabeth had been fair enough in her Youth; but her Beauty was then near declining, and her remaining Charms would have been weak enough, had they not been accompanied by those of a Crown.  
The Earl of Leicester was at once the Queens Lover and Favourite, but his favour was public, his passion secret.  
His Ambition was insensibly degenerated into Love, or rather into a certain Complaisance, that wrought in him almost the same effects, as a tie of another nature; and a bond so straight as that, which he had with the Queen, did so agreeably flatter his Vanity, that he became capable of all the motions, which the most violent passions do usually inspire. He flattered himself, as many others did, with the hopes of Marrying the Queen: And she her self was pleased to keep him in that error, either because she would tie him more strongly to her interests, or because she was glad to make with him a trial of those Artifices, which she intended to make use of upon other occasions.  
The Imprisonment of Mary Stuart, whom she on suspicion had caused to be arrested, when she came into her Countreys to seek for protection, against the persecution of her Rebellions Subjects, had gained her so many Enemies, that had dissimulation not been natural unto her, the necessity she had would have taught her the use of it. So hard an usage had exasperated all the Princes of Europe against her. So that the most refined Policy was not enough to prevent their Resentment. And this was one of the Principal Reasons that had induced her to harken to, and break so many several proposals of Marriage; never making any difficulty of violating her word, as often as her interest required it.  
Her Courtiers, for their part, stood in need of the same Artifices, which she her self made use of. Her distrustful and suspicious humour continually alarmed and frighted those who were about her. They could not have too much precaution in managing a Woman, who took offence at the least matter; and who did not know what it was to pardon, when she believed her self offended.  
The Case of the Queen of Scots was one of those that they never handled without trembling; but they had yet more measures to keep on the account of the Princess Marianna, who having received from Heaven Qualities like to those of Mary Stuart, had also the same destiny, and it seemed that Elizabeth had a mind to preserve the Liberties of all men, by depriveing the two fairest Princesses of the Age of theirs; certain Reasons, which the continuance of this History will demonstrate, gave her yet a greater jealousy of this last, than of the Queen of Scots. To express the least compassion for the misfortunes of Marianna, was enough to incur the whole hatred of Elizabeth. The least suspicions upon this matter past with her for averred Crimes, and her mistrust esteemed them, as so many attempts against her authority, or life. So that flattery and dissimulation, which are usual in all Courts, was excessive in that. There men were forced to consider of their words and actions, to study their looks and motions, to be always diffident of themselves, and hidden even from their own thoughts.  
Such was the Court of England when the Duke of Alançon arrived there.  
The uncertainty of the success of his design, obliged him to make his journey with as little noise as he could, and although Elizabeth had notice of it, yet it was agreed between her and du Lac, that she should pretend not to know it: to the end, that the princes arrival might be without any pomp. Besides, he was willing to spare himself the Embarrass of a Ceremony, which is always troublesome and vexatious to Persons of his age. He was glad to pass some days in private with du Lac, in order to be more precisely informed of the State of his affairs, and to be instructed in the conduct he ought to keep with the Queen, whose distrustful and reserved humour was extremely difficult to be managed; and to take all the measures necessary for his carriage to a Court, where the part he was to act, would not fail to gain him many Enviers.  
He understood from this Gentleman, that he had been long ago expected at Court, that his intended Marriage was generally known there, that the Queen had spoken openly of it, and that she had made every thing ready for the consummation of it; yet for all that, there were some People who knew not how to believe it; who looked upon all these preparations as a reach of that Princess's Policy, and who before hand making guesses of the future by her past conduct, were assured that she would never fail of Expedients, to disengage her word, when she should judge it convenient; that she would rid her self of the Duke of Alançon, as she had done of her other Lovers; and lastly, that this Marriage, which was looked upon as so secure, would still appear to them uncertain, until such time as they saw it entirely finished.  
However, I do not see,( added du Lac) upon what foundations are these suspicions grounded. The Queen hath made too public advances to go back. She hath a greater regard for France than to fall out with it. The tricks which she hath played some distant Princes, ●or her Favourites, can have no consequence for the Duke of Alanç●●. In the mean time ( continued he) you would do well, to get new Engagements from Elizabeth, and to carry on the matter so far, as that she may find her self in a necessity of concluding it.  
He stuck to this Resolution, and three days were past without the Duke of Alançon's appearing; when understanding from du Lac that there was a Ball to be danced before the Queen, he resolved to make one in it; an opportunity to do so offered itself. The Earl of Leicester, who was to Dance in it, finding himself ill, it was not difficult for the Duke of Alançon to supply his place. Nevertheless, it was done without the Queen's knowledge. The Duke being almost of the Earl's Shape, was easily taken for him, and it was thought that he never Danced with a better Grace in all his Life. The Ball ended, the Queen being in an excellent Humour, would pass the rest of the Evening in Divertisements, and  told the pretended Earl, that she would Dance with him. The Dancers were not yet Unmasked. The Duke did not think it proper to discover himself. 'Tis well known, that a Mask changes the whole sound of the Voice, so that it cannot be known. He therefore made no scruple of entertaining the Queen, and of Dancing with her; and his Wit did no less Honour the Earl, than his Dancing. But he was very much surprised, when Queen Elizabeth whispered these Words in his Ear. The Duke of Alançon is come, but let not his Arrival alarm you; you know what I have promised you; I will be as good as my word. I leave you to think what Impressions these words made on the Duke of Alançon's Spirit. He left the Queen abruptly, without giving her any answer; and immediately quitting the Room, there wanted little, that he did not depart in a moment after, in order to return to France. It is evident ( said he) that the Queen hath a Design quiter contrary to what she expresses; and shall I, satisfied as I am, of the Treachery which she contrives, expect the effect of it, without preventing it; and shall I render myself a Woman's laughing stock, and a Fable to all Europe? No, no, thou shalt not have the Pleasure of deceiving me, thou Crafty Princess; and I will act so, that all the Disgrace which you design for me, shall serve only to cover thyself with confusion. Nevertheless, at the pressing entreaties of du Lac, he assented not to precipitate his return, and to take no resolution until he were more clearly informed of the Queen's intentions.  
In the mean time, the Queen grew weary of expecting the Earl's return, and asking the cause of this delay, as well as of so sudden a departure, the Dancers of the Ball smilingly  told her what had past, and informed her, that she had taken the Duke of Alançon for the Earl of Leicester.  
As politic as this Princess was, it was hard for her to conceal her trouble at this rencontre: but she dexterously cast the cause of it upon the Duke of Alançon's Arrival, which she pretended, that she had not heard of before; and it being already late, the impatience of being alone, made her break up the Assembly.  
As soon as she was at liberty, she sent for the Earl of Leicester. I expected you with impatience ( Said she unto him, as soon as he was come) to tell you, that the Duke of Alançon is arrived: I know that already ( Replied the Earl) and having understood that the Prince intended to Salute your Majesty this evening, I pretended to be ill, expressly to spare myself the trouble of being a witness of his joy and yours. Ah! What cruel Consequences will that counterfeiting have ( cried out the Queen) and what strange inquietudes will it give me, without mentioning what it hath made me already suffer! Then she informed him of the mistake which she had made, and repeated to him the same words, that she had said to the Duke of Alançon. But after so uneasy a manner, with so much emotion and trouble, that it was easy for him to perceive the perplexity, which this adventure had put her in. How unhappy am I, ( said she) how fatal to me is the goodness which I had for you? Why did I make such hast to speak unto you? Had I not other ways enough to discover my sentiments unto you? Why did you so unseasonably counterfeit yourself sick? advice me at least in the condition wherein I am; what shall I do to get out of it? Give me some Expedient for that, and draw me out of the Abyss wherein I have thrown myself because of you.  
The Earl of Leicester knew the Queen; he had great Reasons to be diffident of her, and upon any other occasion he would have heard her complaints as a Comedy of her accustomend fashion. But she then spoken with too much heat to be suspected of any disguise. He was amorous of her; he saw himself the cause of a mistake so vexatious, and found no remedy for it. Madam, ( said he unto her) I am in despair at this acccident, and there is nothing which I will not do to repair a fault, wherein I have no other share, than that which my misfortune hath given me. Command me therefore what you please, ( pursued he) Madam, I am ready to render you a blind obedience; and I know not whether I had not rather renounce all my hopes, than see you thus repent of the goodness you have had for me: But, Madam, you would not afflict yourself as you do, if you had not a desire of putting the Duke of Alançon into my place. I already take it as an ill Omen of what you have intended for me, and I look upon your mistake, as the beginning of a misfortune that I have always apprehended. Your suspicions are so unjust ( replied the Queen) that you deserve to be confirmed in them. Have I not an hundred times promised you never to mary the Duke of Alançon? Have I not imparted to you all the Reasons which obliged me to harken to the proposals of that Marriage, and don't you know all the measures I have taken to break it, when it shall be time? Why then do you alarm yourself, and what reason have you to fear? Ah Madam; ( interrupted the Earl,) if I have no Reason to be alarmed, you have much less to be afflicted at it; and if it be true, as your Majesty assures me, that you have no desire to mary that Prince, you should be glad that chance hath informed him of that which he must have one day known, and that it hath spared you the pains of confessing it.  
How strange are you, replied the Queen, and how little do you see the consequence of affairs. I confess, and it is true, that it never was my intention to mary the Duke of Alançon; but I was not willing that he should perceive it, or rather I was willing that he should complain of Fortune, and not of me; and I was in hopes that time would furnish me with Expedients enough, to disengage myself honourably of my word, without the Assistance of such an Adventure. But I see all my measures are broken: The Prince will by my words guess at the Engagements which I have with you. He will carry on his conjectures as far as he pleases, and will spare nothing to preserve his own reputation, at the expense of mine. How shall I be able to resolve to see him? How shall I bear the secret reproaches his Presence will make me? Shall I have the confidence to continue my disguises, after having so Imprudently discovered them? And can I resolve to deceive his hopes, after having flattered them, by advances made so publicly? What will not be said of so capricious a conduct? To what won't his indignation provoke him? What ought I not to fear from his Revenge? Her melancholy made her say much more; and perceiving that the Earl, who feared to exasperate her, hearkned to her without making any answer. You say nothing to me ( says she to him, half in anger) and you are at ease, while I am so cruelly tormented for your sake. Ah! Madam ( said he unto her, with a mournful voice) what answer would you have me give you? I am much more afflicted than you, but you are a thousand times more able than myself, and it is you only that can find out the Expedient you demand from me. Nevertheless, you have a greater interest than you imagine to seek it ( replied the Queen, making him a sign to withdraw) remember only that my reputation lies at stake, and that I will leave nothing undone, to let the Duke of Alançon know, that I had no desire to deceive him.  
These words put the Earl on a rack. He presently penetrated into all their meaning; yet he durst not reply to them: And perceiving that the Queen was unwilling to hear him any longer, he withdrew in an agitation of Spirit much greater than hers.  
But the Duke of Alançon was in torments much more severe. Ambition alone caused in his heart the same disorders, as the most violent love, by making him regard the Earl of Leicester's pretended happiness, with as much jealousy, as if he had been as amorous of the Queen's Person, as he was of her Crown. Moreover he found himself horribly perplexed, what way he was to take: It appeared to him equally disgraceful to return into France, or to stay in England. He saw no probability of success, by becoming the Queen's declared Lover, after the discovery he had made of the treachery she intended for him; but he could yet less resolve to lose in one moment the hopes that had so agreeably flattered him, and to remove himself so speedily from a place where he had promised to himself so great advantages: besides, the interest of his Reputation did not permit him to abandon his pretensions, which were known to all the World, and which the Queen had publicly supported. For though the Queen's falseness had extremely justified his Conduct: yet he did not think it very honourable for him to discover it. He esteemed it a matter of too much disgrace for him, to see a man, whose birth was very much beneath his own, preferred before him, and the Queen's engagement with the Earl of Leicester, seemed to him more capable of destroying his Reputation, than to defend it.  
All these different Reflections did so divide his Spirit, that it was impossible for him to fix upon any one Resolution, and perceiving that what side soever he might choose, he still would be reduced to vexatious extremities, he could not possibly divine which would be the least fatal to him.  
He was in this tormenting irresolution, when word was brought him that the marquis of Lanston desired to visit him from the Queen. He was one of the greatest Lords of the Realm. Queen Elizabeth had expressly chosen him, to do the Duke of Alançon the greater honour, to whom she sent him to make her compliments. This Civility, which the Duke did not then expect, put him into a new confusion, out of which he had time to recover himself, while the marquis spoken to him.  
But having perceived that he entertained him almost after a manner, as if he had been already on the Throne, his despite presently furnished him with an answer, which he believed himself obliged to maintain in the consequence. I know not ( said he to him, looking upon him with an Air could enough) whether it be by the Queen's order that you talk to me as you do, or if it be an honour which I owe to yourself alone; but from whence soever it proceeds, you will pleasure me very much, not to carry it on any farther: I will not fall into the Net you spread for me. The Crown of England is not made for my head; 'tis too fast upon Elizabeth's for me to pretend unto it; and when it will please her to share it, I know very well that it will not be upon me whom she will cast her eyes. He had, it may be, have said more, if he had not been interrupted by several other Lords, who came one after another to make their Court to him, as to a Prince, whom they already regarded as their King. He had a good mind to be alone, and the present disposition of his Spirit did not at all svit with so numerous a Company; but there was no way to get rid of them. What tormented him the more, was, that his pretended Marriage made the Subject of all their compliments: They believed that they infinitely pleased him by wishing him joy of it. Nevertheless, he came very successful off; and he made appear, in all his Conduct, as much Civility as Prudence.  
But this was not all, he must see the Queen. They had already  told him that she expected him, and it was impossible for him to delay any longer that first visit. He was presently dressed, and the richness of his Habit giving a fresh Lustre to his good mien, he appeared in the Eyes of all the English Court, the most worthy Prince in the World to Command it.  
The Duke was then in the Flower of his Age, Handsome, well-shaped, Gallant, and Magnificent: These Qualities were supported by that Behaviour, and those charming Manners, which distinguish the Princes of France from all others, and Fortune could not cast her Eyes upon a Subject, who better deserved the Present she seemed to have a longing desire to make him.  
The great number of Lords, who were come to visit him, accompanied him even to the Palace, through an incredible Crowd of People, who were assembled together to see him.  
The Queen came to receive him on the Stair-head, followed by all the Ladies of the Court. The beginning of this interview passed in Ceremony, and compliments; but there was so much coldness observed in the Duke of Alançon, and something so strained and unnatural in the procedure of Elizabeth, that even those who were the least penetrating, did not fail to make ill-bodeing conjectures.  
But they were much more surprised, when the Duke of Alançon, prosecuting the part which he had begun to act with the marquis of Lanston, and believing his Honour concerned, to let the Queen understand, that he was ware of her Artifices,  told her ( after having saluted her) that he was extremely surprised at the extraordinary Reception she made for him, and that he expected not so much Honour, where he had been glad to have passed Incognito.  
These words proved a mortal blow to the Queen's Policy; she grew pale; she blushed, and her trouble appeared to the Eyes of the whole Court. The marquis of Lanston had not had any time to give her an account of his Conversation with the Duke of Alançon, so that she was till then ignorant of his Sentiments; but hearing him speak after that manner, she doubted not, but that he had distinctly heard every word that she had said unto him the Evening before. And that he had drawn thence those consequences which she had all along apprehended. Nevertheless, she recovered her self as well as she could, and looking upon the Duke with a forced smile, she said to him, Sir, you will be pleased to pardon me, if I answer not a Raillery I do not understand. I hope you will do me the favour to explain these Riddles some other time. In the interim, give me leave to complain a little of the surprise you made me last night. I know not, Madam ( replied the Duke) whether you have reason to complain of it; but I confess unto you, that I am not sorry I made it. He would have continued his discourse, but the Queen, fearing lest he should say too much, interrupted him immediately; and making hast to conclude a Conversation, which seemed to her too nice to be public, she dexterously changed it, by pretending to be impatient to hear News from the French Court. She asked him several different Questions, to which the Prince answered with that pleasantness which was natural unto him, and though he did not endeavour to please, yet he entertained her with so much Wit, that, all exasperated as she was at the freedom with which he had spoken to her at the first, she could not but esteem him( as indeed he was) the most amiable Prince in the World.  
The greatest part of the Day was given to divertisements. The Queen had caused a sumptuous Treat to be prepared, accompanied with an excellent Consort of music. There was nothing forgot that might make the Duke of Alançon believe, that the Court of France was not the most magnificent, and most Gallant of all the Courts of Europe.  
They sate so long at Table, that it began to be pretty late when they arose. That day happened to be one of the fairest of the Spring, and the pleasantness of the Season inviting of itself to walk, the Queen lead the Duke of Alançon into the Palace Garden, on pretence of showing him its Beauties; but indeed it was the more easily to find an occasion of entertaining him at Liberty, and of taking from him the impressions which the last nights Adventure had given him. The Duke, who had no less desire to open himself to the Queen, gave her his hand with joy. As soon as they saw themselves far enough off from the Company who followed them, so as that they could not be overheard: The design which both had, not permitting them to entertain each other with indifferent matters; besides, neither knowing how to begin a discourse of the Nature of that which they had 〈◇〉 make each other, they were for some time silent, of which they easily divined the cause. But the Queen, fearing, to let slip so favourable an opportunity, did at length break the Ice, and looking upon the Duke with an Air perplexed enough, Perhaps, Sir, said she unto him, that I had better stay until you declare your sentiments to me, before I discover my own to you; and, without doubt, it will appear extraordinary unto you, that in the first Conversation I have with you, I discourse unto you with the same freedom, as if I had been acquainted with you all my life; but the Obligations which I have to France, those which I have to you in particular, and the singular Esteem which I have for your Person, sufficiently justify a Conduct,( which without all these reasons would appear fantastic enough) and well deserve that I remit in your favour, some part of those considerations, to which both my Rank and my Sex would engage me upon any other occasion. I doubt not then ( continued she, without giving him any time to interrupt her) but that the mistake, which you made me make last night, hath cast you into an error very vexatious to me, and hath given you cause to make very disadvantageous judgments of my Conduct. I foresaw this before you came hither, and your words have thoroughly convinced me. I do not condemn your suspicions, how unjust soever they may be, they fail not to seem reasonable, and I confess that all the appearances are against me. But as soon as I shall have  told you the reasons of those Engagements, which my indiscretion hath already discovered unto you; I hope that you will do me more justice, than you have yet done; and if I appear not altogether innocent, that you will find me much less Criminal than you thought me. As she ended these words, they were at the entrance of an Arbour of Jassemius, wherein there were Seats of Turf, upon which they Seated themselves, and those who followed them, judging, that they desired not to be interrupted, gave the Queen the Liberty to prosecute her discourse after this manner.  
It is so difficult for a Woman to maintain her self all alone upon a Throne, as that I have always regarded Marriage as a thing absolutely necessary for the Establishment of my Authority. I have made no Secret of my Design: A Crown always communicates part of its Charms to those who wear it, and the splendour of mine hath concealed my imperfections from those who have been dazzled with it. The Earl of Leicester appeared to me the most Considerable 〈◇〉 His Birth, which is from one of the most Ancient Families of the Realm: His great Riches, and above all, the Support of the Parliament, which protects him, did flatter his hopes too much to be quiter and clean rejected. I did believe myself therefore obliged to harken to him a little more favourably than to others, in order to prevent the mischievous Consequences, which a manifest Resistance would infallibly have drawn upon me. I will not stick upon the particulars of several Circumstances, which might be of use for my Justification: All that I can say unto you is, that the measures I had to keep with those who were his Supporters, were the Reasons that I kept too little with himself. My Complaisance deceived him, and his Ambition blinding him, he easily mistook all things, that proceeded only form a Policy I thought necessary to secure my Crown, for the signs of a true and real Passion. There wanted nothing more to make him hope for all things. This bold young Man relying upon the strength and number of his Party, as well as upon my own Weakness, believed that he needed not to wait any longer, to carry on his temerity to the utmost. Pardon me, Madam,( said he unto me one day) if I presume to declare myself unto you, otherwise than by my Submissions and usual Respects. 'Tis because you understand not their Language, or rather because you pretend not to understand it, that I am forced to add my Presumption to them, as their Interpreter.  
I stopped his mouth for that time; and being unwilling, for the reasons that I have  told you, to break with him, I would spare myself the trouble of an answer, either too mildred or too rough, I therefore feigned to regard his transport, as a Gallantry without any consequence, and only laughed at it. In the mean time, I began to repent for having made such advances, and I plainly saw that I should be often exposed to the like vexations. Nevertheless there was no other way for me to take, than that of continuing my disguise until I had found a plausible pretence, and a favourable opportunity to discover myself. It was much about that time that the Queen your Mother made me the first overtures of the design, that hath brought you into this Realm. I hearkned unto them so much the more joyfully, as that they appeared to me the most fit means in the World, to deliver me from the restless condition wherein I was. There was no probability that the Earl would enter into a Competition with you, or that I could be blamed for having preferred a great Prince before a simplo Favourite. But as it had been dangerous to make desperate immediately a Man who believed himself so near the Throne, and whose credit rendered him formidable; I thought it necessary to entertain him in his errors until I had brought matters to that pass, as that he should be no longer in a condition to give me any trouble. It was to that end, that I was willing to let him understand, that the reports that were spread abroad ought not to alarm him; and last night, taking you for him, I  told you, what I believed was proper to tell him.  
Though there was some truth in the Queen's words, and that she did her utmost endeavours to put on the persuasive air of sincerity, yet the Duke of Alançon gave no great credit to them, and perceiving that the Queen had given over speaking. Pardon me, Madam, ( said he unto her) if I still fear, even after this that you have  told me; I am young, you are politic: Who shall assure me, that it is not me you deceive, rather than the Earl, or indeed that you do not juggle with us both alike? The event ( replied the Queen, a little disturbed at the liberty of this Discourse) is the Warrant which I give you of my Conduct, although my way of dealing with you ought not to permit you to seek for other Assurances. She pronounced these last words with so natural an air, as that the Duke of Alançon did effectually lose a great part of his distrust, and retired half persuaded of the Queen's good intentions.  
As soon as Elizabeth was alone, and at leisure to make her reflections on all that passed; She began to tremble at the prospect of the condition to which she saw her self reduced, not unlike a Person who unexpectedly finds himself upon the brink of a Precipice. She saw her self almost engaged against her will to take a way, which she had always looked upon with horror, and the Assurances she had just then given the Duke of Alançon, appeared to her too firm to be retracted, without some mighty Reason that might justify so capricious a Conduct. Besides, the inclination which she felt for this Prince, made her almost wish, that she might not find an honourable pretence to break with him, and struggled in her heart with the aversion which she had always had for Marriage, so that not knowing what to resolve upon, and confideing in none besides her self in so nice a point, she past a great part of the Night all alone in Contemplation of the Resolution she was to take. But as it was difficult for her to fix upon any one thing, in so great a diversity of thoughts as presented themselves to her mind, she at length fell asleep, without concluding any thing, and found her self on the Morrow in the same uncertainty.  
As that which most concerns us is usually the first thing on which we think, when we awake; so the Queen had no sooner opened her Eyes, but she immediately represented to her self the confusion wherein she was. The Duke of Alançon, who had had a great share in her Dreams, returned into her mind with all his Charms, and, in the examination she made of her Heart, she was surprised to find there, in favour of this Prince, something unknown, and a tenderness she had never yet experienced. She had indeed had some slight Inclinations for some of her Favourites, but never any thing like a real Passion, and that Spirit of independence, which she loved so mightily, had never suffered any attaint. But she then perceived that she was not altogether Mistress of her own Heart, and that the jealousy of her Authority began to be no longer her predominate Passion. This thought afflicted her more than all the rest, and seemed to her a terrible presage, so that casting off at once her irresolution, she confirmed her self in her former Aversion for Marriage, and resolved to break this last Match at any rate whatsoever, as well as she had done all the others.  
But to hid her design more dexterously, and to make it at the same time succeed, she believed that she could not do better than entertain the Duke of Alançon's hopes, without rejecting the Earl of Leicester: Imagining that the jealousy, which by these means would grow up between the two Rivals, would not fail to create some incident, that might serve for a pretence to disengage her form her word. Being dextrous, she had no great pain to behave her self after a manner conformable to the Resolution she had taken: For as often as she was alone with the Duke of Alançon, she repeated to him the Protestations, which she made the Earl at those times that she entertained him in private. And when they happened to be both together present, if her behaviour towards the Prince was more full of Honour and respect, yet that towards the Favourite was more engaging and familiar: So that for some time they were both sufficiently satisfied with her Conduct, and found no cause of complaint.  
This repose was of no long continuance, e're it was disturbed by jealousy. 'Tis true, that the Earl, who knew Queen Elizabeth's humour, did not very much apprehended her Marriage with the Duke of Alançon; but yet after that princes Arrival, he had almost lost all his Flattering hopes of Marrying her himself. He durst not open himself to the Queen upon that Subject, but by the sighs which escaped him, and the Melancholy that appeared in his Countenance, he made her sufficiently guess at the condition of his Soul.  
The Duke of Alançon had not the same measures to observe: He openly complained to the Queen of her delays: He could not suffer the Earl's assiduities, whom he contradicted in every thing he said; and he let slip no occasion of making her take notice of his jealousy.  
In the mean time Queen Elizabeth, finding from day to day new Charms in the Duke of Alançon, soon perceived the Inclination which she at the first had for him increase, and her Heart did not follow the Resolutions of her Policy, without an extreme reluctancy. It was only her Love of Authority that restrained her, and had she believed that she could take a Husband, without making him her Master, all her Aversion for Marriage had given place to the princes merit.  
In this new agitation of Spirit, she desired to sound the Duke of Alançon's Sentiments. Having one day purposely fallen upon a Discourse, how a Husband ought to carry himself towards a Wife; the Earl, who was present, enlarged himself, like a cunning Courtier, upon the Complaisances which a Man owes his Wife; even so far, that he said, looking upon the Queen, If I were to choose one of the two extremes, I had rather be a Wife's Slave than her Tyrant. The Duke of Alançon had no less respect for the Sex than he, and upon any other occasion, had even improved what the Earl had said; but then thinking only to condradict a Rival, and not foreseing the Consequences of what he was about to utter; For my part, ( replied he) I should not be of your opinion: I believe that the Rule ought always to be of the Husband's side, and that all the Complaisance which he is obliged to show a Wife, ought to cease when she abuses it. 'Tis true, that a certain trouble which he presently observed in the Queen's Eyes, having made him guess at the Application which she made of those words, he was desirous to soften them, by adding, That if a Man were indebted to his Wife for his Fortune, that he should then indeed change his Carriage towards her, and that in such a case, his acknowledgement ought to give no bounds to his Submissions. But Queen Elizabeth, who had a piercing Wit, did without any difficulty perceive what he driven at, and making no reflection on the motive that made him take the side contrary to the Earl, she remained persuaded, that the Duke did at first deliver his real Sentiments, and that what he had said afterwards was only a politic or decent mitigation of them.  
There needed no more to make her shake off that Irresolution into which she was once again fallen; for, rousing up all her hatred against Marriage, she beholded it as a fearful Bondage, and an unsupportable Tyranny. She considered the Duke of Alançon as a young Ambitious man, who desired nothing besides her Crown; who would enslave her, as soon as she should have placed him upon her Throne, and who would make no other use of the Power which he would have received from her, than to deprive her absolutely of it.  
This thought made so strong an impression upon her Spirit, that not knowing how to defend her self from the Duke of Alançon's pressing Solicitations, and perceiving also, that her deceit must sooner or later be discovered, she sought after nothing more than some opportunity to take off her disguise. But the jealousy which she had endeavoured to raise between the Duke and Earl, not working its effects, but very slowly, she advised her self of a trick, that appeared to her very proper, to set these two Rivals at open Variance, and that could not enter into any living Soul besides her own.  
The Duke of Alançon being come to make her a Visit, she counterfeited her self Sick, that she might be dispensed with from seeing him; and, as if she had desired to excuse her self, she presently writ unto him a Billet, which she ordered to be carried to the Earl of Leicester; and writ another to the same Earl, which she caused to be delivered to the Duke of Alançon; not doubting but that this designed mistake would appear to them the work of chance, and that imagining they had thereby discovered her real Sentiments, each of them would believe himself deceived, and his Rival happy.  
In Effect, The Earl of Leicester was strangely surprised, when he found these words in the Billet that was presented to him from the Queen.  
Pardon me, Sir, if I could not have the Honour of seeing you in the Morning. 'Twas the greatest trouble that my present indisposition occasioned, but I am afraid that it will not be the only one, and that it may yet put off for some days the impatience I have of seeseeing you King of England, and Husband to  
ELIZABETH.  
The Earl had not been that Morning to see the Queen: She never writ to him in such a Style, nor ever spoken to him so openly: So that he did not doubt, but that this Billet should have been addressed to the Duke of Alançon. Then he began to fear lest the Queen should at length conclude her Marriage with the Prince, and he thought that a Woman could not writ after that rate to any Man, but to one whom she already regarded as her Husband.  
A Man must have been in the same condition to represent aright what passed in his Thoughts, and it is Experience only that can make a faithful Relation of Affairs of that Nature. Though at first there was more Ambition than Love in the Passion which the Earl had for the Queen, yet he now loved her Cordially, and the Crown of England had lost half its Charms in respect of him, had it been on any other head besides Elizabeth's. In the mean time, after having flattered himself with the hope of being soon Master of the one and t'other, he now found himself upon the point of losing both, and what is worse of seeing a Rival gain by his loss. This doubtless was the greatest Vexation he could receive, and he suffered all the severest Torments, that the two Passions, of which he was full, could make him feel.  
But what was the Duke of Alançon's displeasure, when, opening the Billet which the Queen had sent him, he found in it these words?  
The Duke of Alançon presses me, and I no longer know how to colour my delays. I Counterfeit myself Sick on purpose, in Expectation that you invent some better pretence. I do not believe that I need entreat you to seek out one. You know well enough what Reasons oblige you to it.  
The Duke of Alançon was deceived as well as the Earl, and believed, as it was very probable, that the Billet was addressed to his Rival. Then revolving in his mind the Queen's delays, the false Confidences she had made him, and the Familiarity she still entertained with the Earl, he no longer doubted but that she betrayed him, and that she was the falsest and most dissembling of all Women. In the very first motions his anger inspired him with, he considered whether he should fight the Earl, or reproach the Queen; or depart suddenly for France; and doubtless he had not been easily brought to a Resolution, but for an unexpected accident, which chance, it seems, created on purpose, to render this History the more surprising.  
The Prince, being gone to walk in the Palace Garden, to divert his ill Humour, was very much surprised, when entering a Green Arbour to repose himself, he found there the Earl, who was come thither with the same design as himself. A Rival's presence, whom he believed happy, roused his anger. So that putting his hand presently to his Sword. Let us see ( said he to him with a fierce and menacing Voice) whether you are as formidable in this Arbour, as you are in the Queen's Closet.  
The Earl was not ignorant of the Respect which was due to the Duke of Alançon: Therefore, though he believed that all cause of complaint was of his own side, he would not draw his Sword against that Prince: but looking upon him with Eyes full of sadness, I know not, Sir, ( said he unto him) what is your design, but if you desire my Life, I leave you Master of it; and in the Condition I am in, I do not esteem it happy enough to defend. The Earl pronounced these words with so Melancholy and Languishing an Air, that all the Duke's anger was suspended; So that putting up his Sword again into his Sc●…bard; If you knew your 〈…〉 ( said he to him) you would not speak as you do. And if you were not ignorant of yours( replied the Earl) you would not regard me with envy. All these their words were but as so many Riddles to them. The Duke could not forbear to demand from the Earl an explanation of what he would say; and the Earl plainly perceiving by the Princes procedure, that there was some Mystery concealed under so strange a Conduct, of which he himself would be glad to have a Discovery, took out of his Pocket the Billet he had received from the Queen, and showing it the Duke; See, Sir,( said he) which of us both has the most cause to he jealous. The Duke of Alançon, after having red it, made no difficulty of showing also his: So that both seeing themselves equally deceived, they hardly knew whether they ought to laugh or grieve at this Adventure.  
But this trick of the Queen's had Consequences too serious to divert them. They both alike made Imprecations against her. She is a deceitful Woman,( said the Earl) who esteems every thing just, that flatters her haughty and imperious Humour, and capable of Sacrificing all things to the least Reason of State, that her distrustful and suspicious Spirit presents to her. Thereupon he began to tell him how false she had been to the Queen of Scots, and to discourse of the Cruelty with which she retained the Princess Marianna in Prison.  
The Duke of Alançon was too generous not to interess himself in the disgraces of a Princess, who was esteemed with Reason the fairest, and the most Virtuous Lady of her Age. He had even a secret inclination for her, which was as it were a Foresight of what should happen to him So that when the Earl spoken to him of her, he found him as apt to deplore Marianna's Misfortunes, as to aggravate the Queen's Cruelty. In fine, as two Rivals often unite themselves together to be revenged upon an ungrateful and perfidious Mistress; the hatred which the Duke of Alançon had before for the Earl, ceasing with the jealousy which had occasioned it; he insensibly demanded of him, whether it were true, that she was as Beautiful as Report gave her out to be? The Earl, who had seen her sometime before her Imprisonment, and would have been glad to make some diversion in the Duke's Heart, assured him, that he had never seen any thing so admirable; and, in order to convince him of it with the more ease, he shew'd him a Picture drawn very like her, which he had at that ●●●e about him.  
The Duke did for a while forget his Afflictions, to consider that piece; and his Curiosity never seemed to him more reasonable, than it did in that Moment he began to satisfy it. He owned to the Earl, that Marianna was the most Beautiful Creature under Heaven, if that Picture did not flatter her. Thence they took occasion to enlarge upon her Disgraces. And the Duke of Alançon, being pleased with a Discourse of what might entertain his hatred for the Queen, entreated the Earl to relate to him that unhappy Princess's Adventures. The Earl, who was no less exasperated than the Duke, and who found the same comfort as he did in this Conversation, satisfied his Curiosity in these terms.  
The Birth of this Princess hath something in it, that very much Resembles a Romance. All men know the Divorce of Henry the Eighth, and Catharine his Wife; but few have been informed, that the unfortunate Queen was with Child at the time that the King her Husband put her away, and that she was delivered in her Banishment of the Princess we now speak of. She took care to keep her Birth very secret, justly fearing, that Anne a Bullein, who was very powerful with the King, would make use of all her Credit to Destroy her: She could not promise to her self any Compassion for the Daughter, at a time when the Mother was so Cruelly Persecuted.  
The duchess of Norfolk, who had always a great share of the Queen's Confidence, had been willing to bear her Company in her disgrace. Catharine believed that she could not do better than to entrust a Person, who had always been so faithful to her, with her Daughter's Education.  
The duchess received that precious Pledge with incredible joy, and how sensible soever she was of her Mistress's Misfortunes, she was very glad of having found a means, of showing her the extreme Affection she had for her, by the care which she would take of this young Princess.  
Catharine hoped that if the condition of her Fortune would ever change, the young Marianna might prove a new Blessing to perfect her reunion with the King. But after several unprofitable endeavours to move that princes Heart, seeing that there was no longer hopes of success, she thought of nothing more, than how to dispose her self for Death, which the Rigours of her Banishment did from day to day advance. At length, after languishing for five or six Months, finding that she had but a very short time to live, she called for the duchess, whom she informed of the condition wherein she was, with as firm and peaceable a Countenance, as if she had  told her some indifferent Tale. The duchess, who loved her with a tenderness not to be imagined, cried out at this News. She fell down at her Beds-feet, and melting into Tears, conjured her not to abandon the care of a Life, as precious as her own. It is too miserable, said the Queen to her, to fear the loss of it. I am long since prepared for death, and if any thing could afflict me in departing this World, it would be to leave behind me a little Daughter, who possibly will inherit her Mother's disgraces. Though I am well assured, that you will take all possible care of her, yet I cannot but fear, lest the cruelty of her Enemies may steal her from your precautions, and lest the whole course of her life may take after the unlucky hour of her Birth, I therefore conjure you( continued she) to be always unto her instead of a Mother, and to do your utmost endeavours to prevent, if it be possible, the Consequences of so fatal a foresight. Then having called for the young Princess, who was not yet above five or six years of Age, she took out of a Casket a Sealed Letter, and a Table-book Set with Diamonds, which she gave the duchess without discovering to her, what was contained in them. It may be( said she unto her in putting those things into her hands) that Affairs will change, and that the King will repent his usage of me, before he dies. If it falls out as I hope it will, I entreat you, by the remembrance of our Friendship, to see him, to present to him this his little Daughter, and to discover to him the whole secret of her Birth. The Letter and Table-book which I put into your hands, will give Authority to all that you shall tell him, and a Testimony such as yours, will leave him no uncertainty. Then having struggled with her weakness to embrace the little Marianna, she made her withdraw, and fearing lest the Dutchess's constancy would not be able to undergo so dangerous a trial, she renewed the Gift she had made her of her Daughter.  
This Generous Friend had hearkned to all that the Queen said unto her, without making her any answer, because she had no power to do it, but having observed that the Queen was on the sudden grown faint, she quiter sunk under the violence of her Grief, and fell her self into so profound a Trance, that it had been difficult to judge, which of the two lay a dying. The Queen expired in some time after. And the duchess came not to her self again, but to endure the greatest sorrow imaginable, by being informed of the death of the best Friend, and most Amiable Princess in the World.  
I will not stay to make a description of her grief; I shall only tell you that time which triumphs over the most violent afflictions, gave her no Comfort, and if she desired to survive the Queen, it was only to acquit her self of the Commission which she had given her.  
What Catharine foresaw came to pass. The King, being attacked by a Disease which he thought Mortal, repented of his strange Extremities; and by the Honours which he rendered the Queen's Memory, he repaired the wrongs he had done her Person.  
The duchess of Norfolk, who had always remained in her voluntary Banishment, being informed of the King's Disease, believed that the time was now come, of accomplishing the Command which she had received from Catharine. She therefore began her journey with the Princess Marianna: but being very aged, and all her old displeasures renewing themselves upon this occasion, she her self fell sick upon the way; and not recovering without a great deal of difficulty, she arrived not at Court, until after the King's death. She conceived so excessive a sorrow at this accident, that being relapsed with more danger than before, she plainly perceived that she had no long time to live, and that she had not enough left to make a clear discovery of Marianna's Birth. This thought deprived her of all the joy, which otherwise she would have received, in forsaking a lief so miserable as that was which she had lead ever since the Queen's death: but reflecting that she had a Son, who, though very young, would have fidelity and discretion enough to manage that discovery, when occasion should serve, she called for him, together with the young Marianna, who had always past for her Kinswoman, and even then gave hopes of the incomparable Beauty, which Time hath since brought to perfection. She instructed them in all that had passed, in the Queen's Banishment, her Lying in, and Death. She gave her Son the Letter, and Table-book which she had; she commanded him to preserve them carefully, in order to make use of them upon occasion, and to render the young Marianna all the respect which was due to a great Princess.  
I should be too tedious, if I should relate unto you all the circumstances of that Separation. The duchess was not long in dying. The Princess not regarding the change of her Fortune, was hardly sensible of any thing besides the loss she now suffered; and the Duke's affliction was so great, that it could not be conceived.  
He had not been able to see so near him the Springing Beauty of Marianna, without becoming Amorous of it. Their pretended Alliance had not deprived him of all hopes of marrying her, but perceiving all his pretensions vanished by this discovery, he almost died with Grief.  
After the first Transports of a displeasure so violent as his, he fell into a deep Melancholy, which rendered all manner of Company insupportable to him, and his love-concern made him be esteemed the best Son in the World.  
The Princess, who was accustomend to live with him in great Freedom, often endeavoured to comfort him, and one day finding him in a more pensive fit than usual, Alas( said she to him) will you for ever be in so ill an humour, and will your Tears restore the duchess your Mother? Ah! Madam( replied the Duke) leave me at least the liberty of musing upon my ill Fortune; and deprive me not of the only comfort I find: 'Tis true that the loss of a Mother hath a great share in my Afflictions; but if that were the only cause of them, I should not perhaps be unconsolable. The Princess was too much concerned in what related to the Duke, not to have a longing desire to know the new cause of his Sorrow. She presses him to tell it, the Duke for a while defends himself, but at length not being able to deny himself the feeblè comfort of discoursing of a Passion, which he did for so long a time conceal. 'Tis Love, Madam( said he to her) that renders me unhappy; but 'tis a Love without any hope. I had given my Heart to a Person, whose Birth I believed conformable to my own. My Passion had been flattered with the Sweetest hopes, and I had already yielded up all my Liberty, when I understood that this Person is a great Princess, and that I am born to be a Subject, to whom I pretended to be a Husband. Judge, Madam( pursued he) after that, if I be not the most miserable of Men; and if it be not a severe Affliction for me, to find the cause of my despair, in the good Fortune of the Person whom I love most in the World.  
The Princess had a Wit much more forward than her Age, and the Duke pronounced these words with so passionate an Air, that she easily comprehended he spoken of her, she was not transported with any passion against him; but pretending not to understand whom he meant; she only advised him to rid himself of a Love that made him so ill humoured, and to consider her as his Friend, whom he could no longer regard as his Mistress.  
Affairs were in this condition, when young King Edward, who had succeeded Henry the Eighth, deceased; the Princess Mary, Catharine's eldest Daughter, and Marianna's Sister, was at length, after several Wars and Divisions, which I pass over in silence, peaceably crwoned Queen of England.  
The Duke of Norfolk remembering the Order which his dying Mother had left him, believed that he ought no longer to delay letting the Queen know, that she had a Sister so worthy of her, as the Princess Marianna. He had done his utmost endeavours to overcome his passion; but not having been able to do it, he would have been willing to defer that discovery, had it been only to preserve some remainders of his familiarity with Marianna, and not to lose the sad Consolation of having it some times in his Power to doubt of his unhappiness; but fearing to offend the Princess by that delay, he prayed her to give him leave to wait upon her to the Queen, to discover to her the Secret of her Birth. Marianna consents to it with joy. The Duke acquits himself of his Commission with all necessary Fidelity and disinteressment. The Queen impatiently opens the Letter, which the Duke gives her, and knows her Mothers Character in these Words.  
SIR,  
I Die with Grief, since I die in your Disgrace; but I hope that the Present I make you after my Death, will restore to me that praecious Friendship, which you have deprived me of during my Life; and that the little Marianna, your Daughter and mine, whom you will receive from the duchess of Norfolk's hands, will make you remember, with some sentiments of tenderness, her Mother, and your Wife.  
Catharine.  
The Table-book denoted the day of Marianna's Birth, and contained the Pictures of the King, Queen, and the two Princesses their Daughters. All these Evidences were seconded by the Voice of Blood and Nature, which spoken in Mary's Heart. She without any great trouble acknowledged Marianna for her Sister; and the resemblance of their Faces, together with the various reports that had been spread abroad in the World, did thoroughly convince her.  
This Adventure rejoiced the whole Court, and every one said, that a Romance must be made of it.  
The Will which Henry the Eighth had made infavour of Elizabeth, made all the World regard her as the presumtive Heir of the Crown; but she perceiving all her hopes deceived by so extraordinary an Accident, conceived is furious aversion for the Princess, which was yet augmented by that jealousy of Beauty, so ordinary among Women.  
But as she was naturally reserved and close, she professed in public as much Friendship for her, as she inwardly conceived the trial; and then began to make the first Essays of that Dissimulation, in which she is since become so perfect: She plainly perceived that if Marianna was acknowledged for the Queen's Sister, the Succession of the Realm would be assured unto her, and that to exclude her, there was a necessity of rendering her Birth suspected and doubtful.  
She endeavoured to do this with as much dexterity as earnestness, causing reports to be whispered about to Marianna's disadvantage. Besides, she had suborned Men who gave out in public, as well as in private Assemblies, that the new Princess was a Fantom and Chimera of the Duke of Norfolk's invention, who possibly would make use of that imposture, as a Step to ascend the Throne, or rather that she proceeded from the Queen's aversion to Elizabeth: whom Mary having a mind to deprive of her Lawful Right to the Succession of the Crown, had created that Chimerical Sister, on purpose to wrong the other of it: That there was no probability that Queen Catharine was with Child, when the King put her away, since they had not come together in a long time before the Divorce; That this Adventure was a thing unheard of, and the like was never known but in Fables. Elizabeth sometimes caused all these things to be said in those places where she her self was present, and to disguise her self the more cunningly, she seemed not to approve of them, and even endeavoured to contradict them with weak Arguments.  
In the mean time, the Duke of Norfolk had in vain endeavoured to free himself from the passion which he had for Marianna, so that with the hope, he at length lost the desire of overcoming it, and he began to cherish his love too much, to be any longer in a Condition to struggle with it.  
The misfortunes of a man who loves without hope, and who, nevertheless, cannot forbear loving, do well deserve some Pity and Compassion. The facility which the Duke had of seeing the Princess, and the liberty of discoursing familiarly with her, before she had been acknowledged for the Queen's Sister, were some little consolation to him, and often took away from him the remembrance of his unhappiness. But when he saw himself deprived of that comfort; and that he could not make Marianna any but Solemn Visits, and that the new Rank which she held at Court obliged him to live with her quiter otherwise than he had yet done, his melancholy increased very much, and made so great an alteration in him, that he was hardly able to be known.  
He being one of the handsomest Lords of the Court, there was no advantage that he might not promise to himself. Besides he stood very fair in the Queen's favour. Wherefore all men were surprised to see him so pensive, and none could guess at the cause of a melancholy so unusual to Persons of his Age. Every man rallied him about it, and when he could he caught in any Company, they never failed to break their Jests upon it. The Princess, who had still preserved a great deal of Friendship for him, and had forgot what he had formerly  told her, was the first that Gallantly reproached him of a melancholy, which robbed the Court of one of its Principal Ornaments: but he answered not her Railleries, otherwise than by sighs, and obscure words, which the Princess did not comprehend, for the most part, because she did not mind them, or else, because she did not at all suspect the hidden meaning they contained.  
That Man must want the use of his Tongue, who loves, and does for ever forbear telling it. The Duke at length resolved to break so Rigorous a Silence: he was persuaded that it was impossible for him to become more unfortunate, and that he should have at least the comfort of changing his pain.  
He having always had very much access to the Princess, it was not difficult for him to find her alone, and, after wipeing away many Tears, he presumed to tell her that he loved.  
There is a certain kind of coldness, that is a thousand times worse than any fury. The Princess heard him without being moved, and replying to him: I know not, said she, what that Passion is, which you tell me of: but if what is said be true, I esteem you very unfortunate, in having a love for one who is so little in a condition to aclowledge it, as I am: Therefore I will not be angry with you. I think you deserve rather my Pity than Reproaches. I only advice you to cure yourself of that Folly, as well for your own Interest as mine. Spare me the pains of telling you what Reasons oblige me to talk unto you after this manner, and remember that a Princess whose Birth is endeavoured to be rendered suspected, hath a particular Obligation not to suffer a Courtship that may be unworthy of her.  
The Duke, who had broken the Ice, and had prepared himself for much harder usage, grew bolder by the Princess's Answer; and not penetrating into all the Cruelty of her words, he said unto her; Madam, I have not stayed for the Advice you give me to oppose that Passion which I just now declared unto you: but in all the Combats I have had with it, I still found my Reason the weaker: If I had attacked it in its beginning, perhaps I should have mastered it; but having entertained it in my Heart, by reason of the error which concealed your Birth from me, it is now so well established there, that it is absolutely impossible for me to get rid on't: And perceiving that Marianna hearkned peaceably to him; I do not desire, Madam, pursued he, that you approve of my Love, much less that you give me any hopes; no, the remainder of my Reason does not permit the least to enter into my thoughts: Give me leave only to appear melancholy in your Presence; and since I can hope for nothing, let me at least flatter myself, that you sometimes divine the cause of my Despair.  
How respectful soever these words were, yet the Duke pronounced them after a way that shew'd, he had interpnted the Princess's coldness to his own advantage. Marianna perceived it by a certain Joy she saw sparkle in his Eyes through all his Sadness; so that being unwilling to keep him in his error, she then answered him more fiercely than at first: I confess that the Friendship I have always had for you, hath made me regard with trouble the change of your humour, but since it proceeds from a cause so disadvantageous to myself, I will take special care not to heed it; and if in spite of myself I chance to take any notice of it, it shall be only to conceive Hatred and Disdain, for what formerly gave me Pity and Compassion. Then perceiving that the Duke desired to answer her, she re-entered into her Closet, and left him a Prey to the most sensible Affliction he had ever received. Then he began to repent himself of his temerity, and to regret the time in which he once esteemed himself the most unhappy Man in the World. He remained above half an hour in the Princess's Chamber, in the same posture that she had left him; either because he hoped that she would return, or( as it was most probable) because he wanted Force to depart: At length the fear of being surprised in the disorder wherein he was, made him withdraw.  
He was no sooner arrived at his own House, but he took Horse, and went to pass over his vexation in the Country, where he continued above two Months, leading the most Savage and melancholy Life imaginable; and without doubt he had not returned so soon, if the Queen had not absolutely commanded him.  
He appeared at his return so much altered, and so pale, that every body asked him, whether he had been ill? This was the only pleasure they could do him. He very well knew that the Princess would perceive as well as the rest, the change of his Countenance, and that his languishing at least would tell her his Passion, if he himself durst not entertain her with it; but when he proceeded to make Reflections upon the last words she had said unto him, and when he considered that all the marks of his love, how secret soever they might be, would be esteemed by her as so many offences; he was afraid to abandon himself over to his Sorrow, and it was new matter of Affliction to him, that he durst not appear sad.  
He had not stood in need of Comforters, had he been willing to receive any. All the Fair Ladies of the Court thought that his melancholy did not hinder him from being Amiable, and it was even believed it was not Elizabeth's fault he did not forget all Marianna's Severities. 'Tis true, that he himself, from whom I have been informed of all this Adventure, would never own to me this Circumstance; but it is reasonable to believe, that he concealed it from me out of discretion. At least the Reports which went then abroad, and the things that are since come to pass, make it to be sufficiently probable.  
But be it how it will, it has been the Common belief, that the hatred which Elizabeth has since discovered against the Duke of Norfolk, took its beginning from very contrary Sentiments, and that she would not have been so severe in respect of him, had he been more acknowledging. But without sticking any longer upon a matter doubtful enough, 'tis certain, that Elizabeth, who hath always had a Penetrating Spirit, perceived the Passion the Duke had for Marianna: whether it were, that her natural jealousy did open her Eyes, or that having ( as 'tis said) made some advances to the Duke, who had taken no notice of them, or rather who had feigned to take no notice of them; she judged that this contempt could not proceed, but from some very strong prevention for another Person. So that this Suspicion making her observe all the young Duke's ways and Actions, she in the end found out, by a multitude of Marks, that he was Amorous of the Princess.  
She wanted not that weakness that is attributed to her, me be Afflicted at this Discovery. The Duke's credit was great at Court, and in the Parliament: Elizabeth had looked upon him as a Man the most capable of serving her in her designs, but finding him bound by so pressing a Reason to Marianna's interest, she plainly saw, that it would be impossible for her to divide them, and that nothing would be able to balance an engagement of that Nature. She was extremely troubled at it, and what fell out in a little time after did very much augment her displeasure.  
The Windows of her Apartment looked into one of the Palace Gardens. Whereas she had caused the Duke to be carefully observed, one of her Maids did one day tell her, that she saw him just then enter into one of the Arbours in the Garden, with the marquis de▪ Tarnay, a French Gentleman, but in the Service of the Queen of England, and the only Man in the whole Court, to whom he did Communicate his Affairs. She lost no time: She took that Maid with her to bear her Company, and to show her into what Arbour she had seen them enter. It being very gloomy and thick covered, she found the means of approaching it, without being perceived. She sate down upon some Banks of Grass that were round about it, and putting her Ear to the Pales, she heard the Duke entertain the marquis with his Love; and Discourse to him with a most entire Confidence. Oh! Would to God( said the Duke) that she were some Shepherdess; I should not Love her less than I do; and the difference of our Conditions, should not hinder me to mary her; but, alas! to my misfortune, she is a Princess, who accepts not of my Passion; who believes that I rather Love her Greatness, than her Person, and who possibly regards my Flames as a disguised Ambition. I confess( replied the marquis) that you have some Reason to be Afflicted; but give me leave also to tell you, that your grief reaches too far: The Princess's first Rigours ought not to disencourage you. 'Tis so all Women Act, and since the Principal Law of their Sex, is to use those ill, whom they esteem the most, I would not for your sake have had her less severe unto you. Ha! my dear marquis( replied the Duke) I perceive thou wouldst fain bring me some comfort; But alas! thou canst not do it. There is nothing so easy to be distinguished in a Woman, as a Counterfeit Severity from a real Rigour. The Princess spoken to me in a way that could leave the no hopes, and I saw nothing in her Eyes, which did not agree with her Words. His Sorrow forced him to say many other things which Elizabeth over-heard; and when she believed she knew enough, she retired, with 〈◇〉 design of making what advantage she could of this Discovery.  
She was not onely confirmed in her first Suspicions, but discovered also, that the Princess had used the Duke ill; and not doubting but that the difference of their Qualities was the cause of her Rigours, she believed that this Lover would be over-joyed at the taking away of an Obstacle so contrary to his Happiness, and that he would care little whether or no he married a Princess, provided he might mary Marianna; that thus she should easily engage him to join with her, to weaken the proofs of the Princess's Birth, and to deprive her of a Title, that ruined all his, as well as her own pretensions. She sought for an opportunity of speaking to him in private, and as soon as she found one, she did not fail to rally him, according to her Custom, for his ill Humour; but she added, that she no longer wondered to see him Melancholy, since he was in Love. The Duke had appeared so little Gallant, and thought his Passion to be so secret, that this Rallary of Elizabeth's did extremely perplex him; and, if she had wanted new Proofs to assure her of the Duke's Love, the disturbance which she observed in his Countenance, would not have failed to convince her of it. Nevertheless, he denied it as well as he could, as soon as he was a little recovered; and endeavouring to put on a brisk Air, which he thought proper to Destroy Elizabeth's Suspicions, I thank you hearty, Madam,( said he unto her) that you attribute my Melancholy to so agreeable a Subject▪ I know none, besides yourself, in the whole Court, who thinks me capable of a Gallantry: but I am much afraid( added he) that by telling me I am in Love, you may hinder me from ever being so, and may create in me a horror for a Passion, which, according to what you say of it, draws Affliction always after it. Good God( replied Elizabeth) do not deny it. I know more of it tha● you imagine, and to let you see th●● I am not deceived, 'tis Mariann● you Love. The Duke was so surprised at these Words; and a Ladies name, whom he so tenderly Loved, pronounced upon such an occasion, did so much trouble him, that he was not able to return her any answer. Well then ( said Elizabeth to him, perceiving that he still kept silence) confess that I am well informed of what passes in your Heart, and freely own to me a thing which you can no longer Conceal from me. Fear not( pursued she) to make the best of your Friends your Confident, I am willing to serve you; I know that you are not Happy, and it shall not be my fault, if you be not. The Duke plainly perceived that his Secret was Discovered; and not knowing whether it was his Love, or the marquis de Tarnay, that had betrayed him, he presently judged that all his Discretion would be useless to him. He was extremely Afflicted at it; but Elizabeth's proffers did a little comfort him; and being willing to gain her favour thoroughly, by a Confidence which should cost him nothing, he Discovered to her the whole Condition of his Heart, and implored the assistance she had just then promised him. There is nothing which I will not do for you( said Elizabeth); but if you will give me leave to speak freely unto you, I believe that you may never have success in your design, as long as Marianna shall be reckoned the Queen's Sister. The title of Princess is an invincible Obstacle to your Happiness; and 'tis that which afflicts me, added she, with her usual dissimulation, that I cannot serve you, without doing her a prejuduce. I know not whether I could resolve upon it, whatever I have promised you, if I did not think to procure Marianna's advantage, as well as yours, by giving her a Husband as worthy as yourself; and the Title of duchess of Norfolk seems to me much more considerable for her, than the Chimerical name which she assumes to her self. Endeavour then, pursued she, to deprive her of one, that you may give her the other. Cause all your Partakers and you Friends to act in it. I will support all that you shall do, and I warrant you the success of your undertakings.  
This put a Lover's Generosity to a dangerous trial; and many men would not have been perhaps so scrupulous as the Duke of Norfolk was; but he having one of the most generous Souls that ever was known, and loving the Princess with as much disinteressment as ardour, he was not long in resolving upon this occasion. Madam, said he, I should be in despair to exact from you a thing, to which even I should have more reluctancy than yourself; and I had much rather be miserable, than purchase my Happiness by a Crime. I am not amazed, that Marianna's Birth seems to you suspected, since you know nothing of it; but for me, I am too much convinced of it, to doubt it; and if the uncertainty, wherein you are, justifies the Proposal you make me, I cannot harken to it, with the knowledge I have, without being the most Criminal of Men. This answer extremely surprised Elizabeth. Such noble Sentiments were Strangers to her thoughts, and her Heart was not capable of them: She was vexed beyond expression, that she had advanced so far, and Conceived so furious an Hatred against the Duke, that from that very Hour she formed the design of ruining him, which she did accomplish as you shall see.  
The Queen died suddenly in a few Days after this Conversation. I will not tell you the Judgements Men made of this vexations accident. As exasperated as I am against Elizabeth, I do not entirely believe the Reports that went about of her. However, so sudden a Death having prevented Queen Mary to declare her last Will and Pleasure, though the Friendship which she had shown during her Life to the Princess Marianna, might seem to dispense with that formality; Elizabeth made so good use of the Will which King Henry her Father had made in her behalf, that, with the Assistance of her Friends, she caused her self to be declared Queen of England, notwithstanding the pretences of Marianna. This young Princess lay melting in Tears upon the Corps of her deceased Sister, while they disposed of a Crown, to which she pretended a right of Inheritance. Elizabeth's Party was so strong, and managed their design with so much dexterity and dispatch, that the most Zealous of Marianna's Party, durst not discover them selves. There was none but the Duke of Norfolk, who, with a generosity beyond Example, declared himself openly for her, though he might rationally judge, that it would cost him his Life. He went to find her in her Chamber, when all things in the Palace and the City were in a Tumult, and seeing her almost Drowned in Sorrow, Keep your Tears for another time, Madam, said he, and do not add to the Loss of a Sister, that of a Crown; The first is without Remedy, the other is infallible, unless you take some speedy Course about it. O God, replied the Princess, say nothing to me in the Condition wherein I am: I entrust to your Conduct all things that concern me. Do at least your endeavour to Master your Sorrow, replied the Duke, in order to show yourself to the People; if the loss of a Throne, be not sufficient to move you to it, think at least on the Preservation of your Life, and remember that it will be in no great safety, as soon as Elizabeth shall be Mistress of it. He effected so much by his Solicitations, that at length he obliged her to appear, but it was too late. Elizabeth was already in Possession of the whole Power. This unhappy Princess had no sooner left her Apartment, but she was encompassed by a Troop of Guards, and the Duke drawn into a Dungeon. He was indicted by Queen Elizabeth's Order, and Condemned; as a Rebel, to an infamous Death. Elizabeth. Counterfeiting a desire to save him, caused his Death to be Petitioned for by his Judges, and seemed not to consent to it, but with extreme reluctancy. The Duke, young as he was, received the news with all the Constancy of a Man, who had no Passion for Life. He only inquired after the Princess Marianna, and several times asked what was become of her, but having not been able to hear any thing concerning her, he Writ a Letter, which one of his People put into my hands to deliver it to her. These were the Contents of it, as I was afterwards informed.  
MADAM,  
I Know not whether this Letter may be happy enough to fall into your hands. However, I cannot forbear to hazard the last Marks of a Passion, which for its boldness is about to suffer the Punishment prepared for me. Not that it needed any other Chastisement than your Severities; Elizabeth's Cruelty seems to me much less Rigorous than yours, and the Death which she is going to make me suffer, cannot take from me any thing that is Precious, since you have long ago deprived me of all hope; My Love offended you; you Commanded me to rid myself of it. I am glad that I obey you by dying, and that I find in my Misfortune, what I could not expect either from Time or my Reason. If any thing Afflicts me as I now am, it is that I am ignorant of your Condition, and I should easily comfort myself for my disgrace, if I knew that it was not an effect of yours. Take me, Madam, out of this Cruel uncertainty, and I shall die contented. My Blood possibly will wash away my Crime, and the temerity of my Love being once punished, you will perhaps Remember only its Truth and Violence.  
The strictness with which the Princess was Guarded, hindered me to deliver her this Letter; and I not having known, until a long time after, what it contained, could not give this unfortunate Friend the Comfort he desired.  
You will be pleased to pardon me, if I slightly pass over the Relation of his Death; I am still too sensible of its Remembrance, to enlarge upon all the Circumstances of it.  
I shall only tell you, that it was as resolute as Cruel, and that it gave no less Admiration, than Pity, to all that were Eye Witnesses of it. I have since understood, that the Princess was very much Concerned at it; that she employed all the little Credit she had with Elizabeth, to obtain a Pardon for the Duke, and that she gave many Tears to his Misfortune, in a time when it seemed that she ought to reserve them all for her self.  
Elizabeth had a good mind to complete the Tragedy, and she considered for a long time whether she should put the Princess to Death, but fearing to provoke the People, whom the Duke of Norfolk's Death had already but too much exasperated, she was satisfied with her Confinement. She again made use of her first Artifice, and hiding her Cruelty under the Appearance of Mildness, she caused the Imprisonment of Marianna to be Petitioned for; as she had done the Duke of Norfolk's Death. Her Dissimulation was even so great, that she went her self to Visit her, sometime before she was carried into the Castle, where she still remains. She asked her Pardon with Tears in her Eyes, for the violence that was done her, telling her, that she was not Mistress of a disordered Populace, who followed no other Law, than that of their own Caprice; that she must yield to Time and Necessity for some few days; but that as soon as she should see her Authority sufficiently established, to act freely, the first use she would make of it, would be to call her back to Court.  
The Earl of Leicester disposed himself to continue his Relation, and the Duke of Alançon hearkned to it more attentively than ever: When on a sudden they perceived Elizabeth in the Walk that lead up to the Arbour, in which they were reposed. She was in an Undress; two of her Women supported her by the Arms; and she affencted in her Air and Gate, the languishing usual to Persons indisposed; they were strangely amazed to see her so unexpectedly. In the mean time, she advancing towards them, and they, not being able to steal away without being perceived, thought it most proper to go and meet her.  
If the sight of the Queen had surprised them, she was much more astonished to find them together, and observing in their Faces no signs of a Quarrel past, she was horribly vexed to see, that her Artifice had succeeded no better, and the presence of two men whom she had so highly provoked, gave her a Confusion not to be imagined.  
The interview of these three Persons was without doubt very Pleasant, and it would be difficult enough to represent the perplexity in which they were. The Queen, all accustomend as she was to cunning, could hardly forbear blushing, and almost durst not lift up her Eyes; she had rather studied what reproaches she should make the Duke of Alançon, for the Transport of Passion, which she believed infallible, than how to answer those which the Prince had to make her; and though the Earl of Leicester's presence did not give her so much trouble, yet he still being a new Witness of her falsities, did not fail to add something to her Confusion. They for their part, had too much cause to complain of the Queen, not to express something of it, but they had at that time too powerful Reasons for the dissembling of their Resentment, to give any visible marks of it. So that after the first Compliments which were made with a great deal of coldness, their Conversation on the sudden ceased. They walked on until they were arrived at the Arbour, without saying any thing, and it being very shady and dark, the Queen was very glad to repose her self in it, that she might the more easily conceal the trouble she felt.  
She was no sooner sat down, but she perceived something sparkle in a Corner, and having caused one of her Women to take it up, she found it to be a Picture Case, the same which the Earl had shown the Duke of Alançon, and which he had let fall in the beginning of his surprise, occasioned by seeing the Queen. She comes into the Light, opens it, and knows the Picture to be that Ladies, whom she hated the most of all the World, because she best deserved to be beloved. This alone had been enough to put her in an ill humour; but as she stood then affencted, it was so great an addition to her trouble, that her dissimulation could not bear it, but there sparkled in her Eyes I know not what of Cruel, which made the Earl of Leicester tremble. He knew how dangerous it was to be suspected by her, for a secret well-wisher to the Princess. The Duke of Alançon did immediately perceive all the Consequence, which this Adventure might have in reference to the Earl; if he had considered him as a happy Rival, he had too much generosity to ruin him that way: But the Conference. which they had then had to get her, having given the Duke a great esteem and friendship for him, he was glad to show the first signs of it upon this occasion. He therefore desired that Picture from the Queen, saying that it was his, and that he had brought it from France, where that Princess's Beauty passed for a Prodigy. He added these last words on purpose to vex the Queen. They had the Effect which he expected from them. For the Queen, not being able to conceal her jealousy, could not forbear telling the Duke, in restoring to him the Picture, that the Painter, who had drawn it, was certainly a Friend of the Princess's. It may be( replied the Duke of Alançon, who desired no longer to keep fair with Elizabeth) that her Imprisonment hath altered her; but I have always heard it said, that her Beauty was the most accomplished, that ever had been seen.  
The Queen, not finding her self in a condition to maintain a discourse of this Nature, broken it up immediately, and retired, upon pretence of the indisposition which she had began to counterfeit.  
As soon as she saw her self alone, and in a Condition to make a reflection on what had just then happened unto her, her humour naturally jealous, therein found inexhaustible matter of suspicions and distrusts, her Tricks to no purpose discovered, her Reputation ruined in the Duke of Alançon's opinion, two Rivals united, when they should have come to the most Bloody extremities, a Princess's Picture, whom she knew to pretend to the lawful Inheritance of the Realm of England in a Princess's hands, who sought nothing but a Crown. All that joined together put her into so strange an agitation of Spirit, that she fell really sick.  
She sent for the Earl of Leicester, to get from him the clearing of an Adventure, which appeared to her so strange. The Earl trembled with fear, when he was  told that the Queen called for him; He doubted not but that the Picture had alarmed her, and it was to be feared, that she might seek out fatal Precautions for her repose. Nevertheless he delayed not going to Court. Go( said the Queen to him, as soon as she perceived him) you are unworthy of my goodness, and were I as severe as you are ungrateful, you should not long hold Intelligence with my Enemies. The Earl was seized with terror hearing her speak in that manner. All things were to be feared from an enraged Woman, and one whose anger he well knew was hard to be appeased. So that fearing to reply to her Complaints, lest some word might unawares escape him, which would exasperate her the more, he for some time kept silence, and studied what answer he should make her, when the Queen, preventing him, said, I plainly perceive that the reproaches of your Conscience stop your mouth; but speak boldly; I pardon you, provided you be sincere!  
The Earl, who was afraid to leave her to her Suspicions, believed that the safest way he could take, was to relate unto her the naked Truth of what had passed, with the mitigations which he judged necessary: but saying nothing of the Princess's Picture, which stuck more in Elizabeth's Heart than all the rest, she roughly interrupted him, to ask him by what chance that Picture was found in the Arbour; if it was true, that it was the Duke of Alançon's; if the Prince had said nothing to him concerning the Imprisonment of Marianna; and a thousand other the like things, which the Earl had no mind to tell her. He was too much obliged to the Duke of Alançon, and he was too far concerned as to his own particular interests, to declare any thing that might prove hurtful either to one or the other. So that concealing that part of the Adventure from the Queen, he assured her, that he did not know how the Picture came there, and that the Duke of Alançon must necessary have dropped it out of carelessness. He added, that Marianna had no share in their Conversation, and that there was no probability, that the Duke of Alançon would have chosen him for his Confident.  
All these Protestations did but redouble Queen Elizabeth's Suspicions; who, not being able to get any other light from him, sent him back in a cruel uncertainty of what he was to expect from her Anger▪  
He had observed by the tone of her Voice, and the Air of her Countenance, the beginning, as it were, of a Storm that threatened him. His Fears proved but too true: She caused him to be apprehended on the Morrow▪ she placed Spies about the Duke of Alançon; she ordered the Princess's Guards to be doubled; and forgot nothing to secure her own Repose, at least as well as a mind so restless, and so suspicious as her own could do, in a matter, wherein the most sensible of her interests were involved.  
In the mean time, the Duke of Alançon, who had kept the Princess's Picture, could not forbear considering it, and his Hatred for Elizabeth increasing his Compassion for Marianna: O God!( said he unto himself) must a Princess so amiable, pass all her Life in a close Prison, while her Enemy Triumphs upon a Throne, which she has a Right to!  
While he was filled with these thoughts, perceiving that there was no probability of confiding any further in Queen Elizabeth's Promises, and that in the present state of Affairs, he could no longer hope for the accomplishment of a Marriage, to which he himself had hardly consented, he framed from that very Hour, the design of setting the Princess at Liberty, persuading himself, that if he could bring it about, there could be nothing more glorious to himself, or more agreeable to all Europe, and that instead of the confusion, which he was to expect from an unprofitable Voyage, it would be of more advantage to him than the Crown of England. He communicated his design to du Lac, who was at first frighted at it, and did all his endeavour to dissuade him from it, telling him that this Affair had failed so often, that it was to no purpose to think of it; that Elizabeth was inexorable upon that point; and that Marianna's Confinement was too necessary to her Repose, for her ever to consent to her Enlargement. The Duke made him understand, that he stood in no need of the Queen's consent, and that there were other ways to bring it about. These words added yet to du Lac's apprehension. He knew from the Queen of Scotland's Example, that there were no Laws, which Elizabeth would not put in Execution▪ when her Authority was concerned: He represented to the Duke of Alançon the Dangers to which such a design would expose him; the strictness with which the Princess was Guarded; the difficulties he must overcome to see her; and every thing that he judged proper to dissuade the Prince from so difficult an Enterprise. But all that he could say unto him, was not capable of making him change his design: the Resolution was taken, and he no longer thought on any thing, but on the means how to execute it.  
It seems, the Queen furnished him unexpectedly with the first Overtures of it. She had been indisposed almost ever since the Adventure of the Arbour. The Physitians advised her to go and pass some days in the Country, in order for her Recovery. She followed their Advice, and went to a House of Pleasure, which was not far off from the Castle which served for a Prison to the Princess. The Air of that place was very good, and besides she was glad of being in a Capacity to watch the more narrowly her Prisoner, and to prevent the more easily all the attempts which the Duke of Alançon might make for her Liberty.  
Marianna knew nothing of her design, she on the contrary did believe, that the Queen's Neighbourhood was advantageous for her, and that if she could procure her consent for an interview, it would be a means to obtain her deliverance. In this hope, she writ unto her about it, in expressions that had been capable to move any other Soul than Elizabeth's. The Queen pretending to have nothing so much at Heart, as that which the Princess Marianna desired from her, appointed a day and place of interview. They both came to the meeting, whither an hundred Guards Conducted Marianna: The Queen Saluted the Princess as if she had loved her the best of any in the World.  
You will not possibly believe me ( said she unto her, embracing her) if I tell you, that I am not much less sensible of your Misfortunes than yourself; and that I should long ago have finished the Course of them, if I had been in a Capacity to do it; but you know very well, that a Queen is not always so absolute as she would be over the Spirits of her People, and that she often hath little besides the Splendour of a Crown, of which they usurp all the Prerogatives. I do frequently enough found their minds upon the account of your Liberty; but 'tis a Fruit that is not yet Ripe; yet I hope its Season will come, and that through a little patience you shall soon see yourself in a Condition to comfort yourself for all your past troubles.  
Marianna was too well acquainted with Elizabeths humour, not to mistrust these words, and the marks of Friendship which she at that time received, were so great, that they had been suspected of being counterfeit, even from a Person less dissembling.  
But as there is nothing more winning then Confidence, the Princess seemed to believe entirely all that the Queen said unto her, and rejecting, after her example the cause of her Misfortunes, on those reasons of State, which Queens are obliged to follow in spite of themselves: She  told her, that to take away that obstacle, she was ready to give all the assurances that could be required from her; that the tediousness of her Captivity had caused her to make some reflections, which had given as much contempt of Greatness, as she saw she had want of power to arrive to it; that she sought not after a noisy pompous Life, but only Ease, and tranquillity; and lastly, that she would esteem her self sufficiently happy, as soon as she should be free.  
Elizabeth was sufficienty embarrassed, when she perceived the Duke of Alançon coming directly towards her. This Prince, who had not yet quiter broken with the Queen, believed himself obliged to make her a Visit; and this interview having been kept extremely secret, he had heard nothing of it, but what Elizabeth's domestics informed him of, on his arrival at her House. He considered a long time what he had to do; but the desire of seeing the Princess, had transported him above all those Reasons which should have kept him back, and he caused himself to be Conducted by one of the Queen's Guards to the place of meeting.  
That was the fatal moment of his Destiny, and his heart, by a secret inclination, made him search for the Person, whom he ought to love without knowing her. This young Prince had as yet been capable of nothing but Ambition, and he had possibly passed his whole Life without being sensible of any other passion, had he not seen a Princess, who could let none have an indifferency for her.  
Marianna was at that time in the Flower of her Age, and her Beauty had been no less proof against her Misfortunes, than her Courage. She had more especially a sweetness in her eyes, which left nothing for her other Graces to do, and the troubles of her Imprisonment had mingled therewith a certain languishing, so moving, that it pierced even the bottom of their Souls who beholded her.  
The Duke of Alançon was immediately dazzled, and finding the Fairest and most Charming Lady in the World, in the Person of the most innocent, and the most unfortunate; he felt at first fight all the tenderness that Love and Compassion could inspire: He had not dissimulation enough to conceal his trouble from the eyes of a cunning and jealous Queen; Elizabeth joining the Adventure of the Picture to the signs of the surprise, which appeared in the princes face, easily divined the cause of them: This was no very proper way to soften her mind in favour of the Princess The Duke reflecting upon it, as soon as he had time to recover himself, was willing to frame his Countenance, and to begin a feigning, which he judged he should stand in need of for the future; but alas, it was now too late. The confusion of his words, and the little freedom of Spirit he had shown in the excuses he believed himself obliged to make the Queen, had instructed her in too much. Elizabeth, who to free her self from the perplexity wherein the Princess had at first engaged her, was glad to turn the Conversation quiter another way; began to rally the Duke, and presenting him to Marianna, Your Party is likely now to be the stronger( said she to her) this princes Countenance does witness that his heart is already for you; and I believe, that you cannot desire a Mediator more affectionate to your interests. The Princess stayed not for the Duke of Alançon's Answer; and being willing to bring Elizabeth back to the same Discourse, which the princes arrival had interrupted; Madam( said she) I do not doubt but that the Duke of Alançon would be generous enough to declare in the behalf of an afflicted Princess; but after what your Majesty hath been most graciously pleased to tell me, I believe that I no longer want a Mediator; and that I cannot have more powerful solicitors, than the Promises I have received from you.  
The Duke of Alançon was mightily perplexed as to what he should do, and percieving that he could not declare himself for the Princess, without creating a jealousy in the Queen, he was willing to withdraw; but the Queen, who believed she should want his presence, to come off the easier from this interview, retained him; and following her first design, she  told him with a rallying air, that since Fortune had done so much, he must be the Princess's Knight, and that it was his duty to break the Enchantment of her Prison. 'Tis for yourself, Madam( replied the Duke, with a more ferious tone) that so fair an Adventure is reserved, and I am far from envying you the Glory of it. He durst say no more; but he accompanied these words with a look so obliging towards the Princess, as made her plainly understand, that he should be infinitely glad of being employed in so Glorious an Undertaking, as was that for her Liberty. The Queen desiring to put an end to a Conversation that tormented her, did at length renew the promises she had made the Princess, and  told her, even in the Duke of Alançon's presence, that she would make her Sign at the Contract of her Marriage. She added these last words expressly, to prepare the Prince for what she had resolved to say to him. After that, pretending that her Health, which was not yet perfectly restored, would not give her leave to remain longer with the Princess, she embraced her as tenderly as she had done at first; and appeared so sensible of her parting, that she  shed tears. The Duke of Alançon was extremely sorry to depart so soon from a Person, whose sight began to be his greatest pleasure; but there was no probability of bearing her Company, and to attempt it, had been the ready means to destroy her: All that he could do, was to express with his eyes, what violence he did himself upon this occasion, and giving the Queen his hand, he lead her to her Coach, which waited for her some two hundred paces from that place. Elizabeth would make use of that time to be reconciled to the Duke of Alançon, with whom she had not yet been alone, since the Adventure of the Arbour. I plainly perceive( said she to him in pursuance of that Design) that we are still very angry, and that we shall want such an Opportunity as this is to make us Friends. The Duke of Alançon, who had almost forgot the Billet, which had given him so much vexation; and besides, who had other things in his mind, that began to busy it more, could hardly guess what the Queen meant, and he answered her coldly enough; but Elizabeth taking his coldness for an effect of his discretion,  told him, that it was in vain to dissemble his resentment; that she well knew that he was at the bottom of his heart very much enraged against her, and that the Earl of Leicester had represented her very basely to him; but that the two Billets he had seen, were a trick of his Rivals, who had the boldness so counterfeit her Seal, which was upon some Letters she had been obliged to writ unto him, to the end that she might be esteemed a deceitful Woman; that she knew well enough how to punish the temerity of this audacious Man, and that the Prison into which she had east him, was the least part of the Chastisement she designed for his insolency. She had invented this to justify her self a second time in the Duke of Alançon's opinion. The Prince remembered the Conference which he had had with the Earl of Leicester, the pressure of melancholy under which he had found him, and the furious transport into which the Earl had broken out against the Queen, upon sight of the Billet he had shown him, and a thousand other things that agreed not with the imposture whereof he was accused. So that judging this to be a new Snare, which the Queen laid for him, he took care from falling into it; and opposing Cunning to Cunning, he pretended to know nothing of the Queen's meaning, or of the Billets which she mentioned. Elizabeth, who knew well enough by the last Discourse she had had with the Earl of Leicester, that the Duke of Alançon spoken not to her with sincerity, took the princes dissimulation so ill, that she could not forbear making him reproaches.  
But the Duke, out of a malice which he made use of as a kind of revenge, continued his disguise, and obstinately resolved not to come to any clearing of Matters with the Queen; even so far, that being pressed to take a place in her Coach, and to go and partake the pleasures of the Country with her for some few days, he excused himself from it, with the fear of incommoding her; and taking the Road for London, not to augment her suspicions, he lay at a Village which was four Leagues thence, where Du Lac was to wait for him.  
He was no sooner arrived, but he related his whole Adventure to this Gentleman, with all the marks that usually attend passions in their Birth; and in a way so advantageous for the Princess, that Du Lac did not doubt, but that he was very much in love with her. But the Duke had as yet no suspicion of it himself, and believed that he had no other Sentiments for Marianna, but those of Generosity and Compassion. So that he put himself to no great trouble to combat a passion of which he was ignorant, and without dreaming of defending his own liberty, he no longer thought on any thing, but how to obtain the Princess's.  
Du Lac was one of the fittest Men in the World for an intrigue. The governor of the Castle had Married an English Woman of his acquaintance. He resolved to make use of that way to gain him. This was not done without extreme difficulty. The Governour's life lay at stake, and the Queen had given him such new Orders, as doubled his fidelity and strictness, but at length the princes liberality, and his Confidents dexterity, brought it about. This was not all; the Princess her self was also to be of the intelligence, and nothing could be done without her. The Duke could not see her but by night, and there was no probability that her Virtue would consent to a thing, which, how innocent so ever it were in itself, would nevertheless have all the appearances of a Crime. To take away that difficulty, they believed it would be enough to gain one of her Maids, in whom she had the greatest Confidence; that after having engaged her in their Intrigue, the governor of the Castle should put the Duke into her hands, and that she should afterwards introduce him into her Mistress's Chamber. All these things succeeded according to their designs; Meneville, so was that Confident called, took upon her to dispose of the Princess's Spirit to receive the Duke. They appointed the Night on which this entervisit should be made. All things being thus disposed, the Duke came disguised, and without any Equipage, to a Village near the Castle; there he waited for the notice which the governor was to give him, with a trouble and emotion that may be easily imagined; but here an incident breaks all these measures, and is about to plunge him into an Abyss of misfortunes.  
The princes unexpected arrival at the place of meeting with Marrianna, gave the Queen strong suspicions, they were increased by the disorder which the first sight of the Princess had created in his Countenance, and by the coldness he had expressed towards her, in the last discourse they had held together. So that to set her mind at rest, she had placed Spies all about the Castle, to discover all that should pass there. The Governour's intrigue with Du Lac could not be brought to an end, without several Journeys. Elizabeth was advertised of them; her jealousies were redoubled, and being easily alarmed on that account, she was not satisfied with the precautions she had taken: She would be informed of all things her self. Secrecy was necessary for her design; she pretended to go and make the Princess a Visit, and arrived at the Castle before it was so much as known, that she was upon the way thither. The first thing which she did, after her entrance, was to call for the governor; this Order alarmed him, as much as the Queen's arrival had surprised him; but his fear was very much redoubled, when Elizabeth, being shut up with him in the Room, and looking upon him with a menacing eye, said to him, Is it thus you perform the Commissions that are given you, and have I entrusted you with the keeping of this Castle, to be betrayed by your Correspondence, and secret Practices with my Enemies?  
He would have defended himself, but the Queen not letting him have the liberty to speak: Go( pursued she with an air yet more enraged) get out of my sight, or confess immediately a fault, which you can conceal no longer from me. This poor Man believed himself utterly undone: He doubted not but that the Queen had been informed of his whole intrigue with the Duke of Alançon; so that having recourse to sighs and tears, he threw himself upon his knees, and faithfully related to her all that past; even to tell her, that the Duke of Alançon was to come to the Castle that very Night, and that he waited only for notice from him to be there.  
After he had given over speaking, the Queen remained some time without making any answer, as if she had studied what resolution she had to take; afterwards causing him to rise up, and mitigating something of the severity of her look, I promise you( said she) to pardon you all, provided that you acquit yourself more faithfully of the Order that I am about to give you, than you have done of the others. Madam ( replied the governor) there is nothing which I will not act to deserve the pardon which you give me, and your Majesty hath no more to do, than to instruct me in what you desire from me. 'tis( said she) that you give the Duke the notice that he expects from you, and that instead of introducing him into Marianna's Chamber, you bring him into mind. What will not the fear of death work upon a weak and mercenary Soul? This Man who had made no scruple of failing in his Fidelity to the Queen, made none likewise of betraying the Duke of Alançon, and of sending him the notice he had promised. The young Prince had hardly made any reflection upon what he was going to undertake: The Novelty of the Adventure, and the pleasure he expected from it, had entirely taken up his thoughts; but when he saw himself upon the point of entering at Midnight a Princess's Chamber, whom he was so little acquainted with, without knowing perfectly what colour he should give so extraordinary a Design; he began to tremble, and then made the first trial of a passion which he had never known before. Nevertheless he came to the Castle with as much speed as he could. The governor received him at the Gate, and, without telling him any thing of the Queen's arrival, conducted him into her Chamber, instead of bringing him into the Princess's apartment.  
Elizabeth looked upon this Opportunity as the most proper to discover clearly the real Sentiments of the Duke of Alançon; but apprehending the tone of her voice would make her known, she made one of her Maids be put in Bed to act her part; she had given her all necessary instructions to do it well; and having left only two Candles lighted in the Room, she withdrew into a Closer, from whence she could hear every thing. The Duke, who was then in a hurry, and thought only on what he had resolved to say to the Princess, was far from mistrusting any such foul play; besides, he had never heard her speak but once in his life, so that there was no great difficulty to put that Maid upon him for the Princess Marianna.  
That which I do is so bold, Madam( said he, in throwing himself at her Beds-feet) that nothing but the motive that brings me to you, can serve me for an excuse. I will therefore confess unto you, Madam, that I can no longer suffer that the Fairest, and the most innocent Person of the whole World should be the most abused, and that they should deprive of Liberty a Princess, to whom all the World ought to be enslaved. Until I had the honour of seeing you, I was contented to lament your misfortunes, with the rest of Europe; but now I think I owe you something else besides an unprofitable compassion, and I should reproach myself eternally of cowardice, if I were not ready to mingle all the blood in my veins with my tears. 'Tis this blood, Madam, which I come to offer you, together with the life it animates, to deliver you from the cruel Tyranny of Perfidious Elizabeth; and I flatter myself, that Fortune has not brought me into England, but to re-establish you in the rank that is due to your Birth. The Maid suffered him to speak as long as he had a mind to it, according to the Order which she had received from Queen Elizabeth; and replying to him, I am very much obliged unto you, Sir,( said she, with an air could enough) for the Sentiments which you say you have for me, and for the Proffers which you make me; but you will be pleased to pardon me, if I tell you, that notwithstanding I am so much a stranger to the World, the design which brought you into this Realm, hath not failed to reach even my ears; and methinks that the interest which you seem willing to take in my misfortunes, is no very good Expedient to gain Elizabeth's heart, and to ascend her Throne.  
Madam( replied the Duke) I will disguise none of my Sentiments from you; the hope of a Crown is an allurement powerful enough over a young princes heart, for me to confess without shane, that I became sensible of it. But I knew neither the Princess Marianna's Beauty, nor Elizabeth's Deceit, when I suffered myself to be surprised with it; she has betrayed me, Madam, as well as you; and I have no less reason to hate her, than yourself. I will say no more of it now, and I will not lose a time so precious in a Relation which would be as troublesone as unprofitable; be only persuaded, that I have no longer any tie with the Queen, which may hinder me from binding myself blindly to your interests, and that Fortune could not do any thing for me more advantageous, than to give me the means of finishing the course of your disgraces, or of partaking with you the severity of them.  
But what is your Design Sir( replied the Maid) and what likelihood have you to deliver me from this place? give me only leave to act, Madam,( replied the Duke) I desire nothing but your consent, and provided that you approve of what I shall do, I will warrant you the success of my undertaking. Liberty is so sweet a thing( replied the Counterfeit Marianna) that I must be my own Enemy, to refuse the advantageous proffers you make me; but methinks in the present State of Affairs, nothing ought to be precipitated. You were a witness of the conversation▪ I had t'other day with the Queen; you have not forgot the Promises she made me in your presence, you ought to wait some time for the effect of them, before you attempt any thing. After that, if you find yourself in the same humour in which you seem now to be, I give you leave to do all that it shall please you, and abandon myself entirely to your Conduct.  
Ha Madam( interrupted the Duke) have you still any confidence in Elizabeth's Promises, after so much treachery and perfidiousness, which ought to give you an abhorrence of her. I tell it you, Madam, with extreme sorrow; but I should betray you as well as she, should I flatter you; all the assurances she hath given you, are so many perjuries which she contrives, and if you expect your Liberty from her alone, you run the risk of being eternally in Bondage. It may be, Sir( said this Tool of Elizabeth's) that you are not so well acquainted with the Q●●en's humour as you think you are; there are certain lucky and favourable moments, wherein things which were believed the most impossible, have frequently come to pass. I hope that it will be so with my Liberty, and that after having made so many unprofitable endeavours to recover it, this last success will comfort me for all my troubles. The fear I am in lest you should chance to be discovered( added she) will not suffer me to detain you any longer, and I believe that you are sufficiently persuaded of my acknowledgements, without my returning you fresh thanks. The Duke found not in this entertainment all the sweetness he had fancied to himself. And the Princess had not in his opinion entred into such sentiments, as the condition of her fortune ought to inspire her with. But whereas the Idea of the fair Marianna had still employed his mind, and whereas he believed, that so much moderation in a Person, who had so strong reasons for resentment, could not proceed but from the little confidence she had in him, he was very much afflicted to depart, without having had time to convince her of the sincerity of his intentions, and of the hatred which he had for Elizabeth; but apprehending to incommode her with his longer stay, he withdrew, in hopes to effect by a second Conversation, what he had sailed in the first.  
This Conversation was a rigorous trial of the Queen's patience; and if she received some satisfaction in discerning the Duke of Alançon's Sentiments, she had much more vexation to see her self so blackened in that princes opinion. The words which he made use of had exasperated her so much against him, that she was capable in the first transports of her anger, to proceed even to the most bloody extremities: And she was jealous enough of her Reputation, to rid her self of a Man, who could defame her over all Europe: But she had too many measures to observe with France, to give way to her resentment, she expected even the conclusion of a Treaty, by which, upon some Chimerical pretensions, they were to restore to her Rochel, a Town famous for its Trade, and for the Beauty of the Ladies that inhabit there. Her Fury, perceiveing itself restrained on that side, was wholly turned against the Princess. She could not imagine that the Duke of Alançon's advances proceeded only from a pure Compassion; but was persuaded that some more pressing motive had caused him to undertake so bold and difficult a business. Then, without examining any farther what it might be, a furious jealousy seized her Spirit; she looked upon the Princess as an Ambitious Rival, who sought only to ascend the Throne, and who would do all her endeavours to snatch the sceptre out of her hands, after having robbed her of a Lover's heart, who was much dearer to her, than he had appeared Criminal.  
There needed not so much to make her take fatal Resolutions; but she was too much a Politician not to perceive that she should be suspected of all the mischief which should happen to the Princess during her Imprisonment, and her Reputation was no less dear to her then her revenge. So that to satisfy the one, and to preserve the other at the same time, she resolved to restore the Princess's Liberty, to the end that she might dispatch her with the less noise, and secure her self with the greater ease from the suspicions of destroying her. This was the Resolution she took, during the rest of the Night, and she performed it in the Morning. Marianna was hardly awake, when she saw the Queen enter her Chamber, who accosting her with a smiling and flattering air; I come to surprise you very agreeably( said she to her) and I believe that I cannot bid you good morrow with a better grace, than by giving you your Liberty.  
It is easy to imagine the Princess's surprise upon this occasion: Elizabeth's promises had given her some hopes, but she expected not so speedy a performance of them; she had not heard one word of her arrival, and not being able to conceive by what Enchantment she saw her at her awaking. Pardon me, Madam( said she in Saluting her) if I still am doubtful of what I hear, since I doubt even of what I see, and since my eyes dare hardly assure me that you are the Queen. I did indeed imagine( replied the Queen) that you would not easily believe me at the first; but the news I tell you, will for that reason be more agreeable unto you, and it shall be your fault only, if you find them not more true, than unexpected. All these assurances made but weak impressions on the Princess's Spirit, she felt something at the bottom of her heart, which would not suffer her to receive the joy which such news ought to give her, and this beam of hope appeared to her like a Sun shine just before a Storm, which it seemed willing to disperse.  
Nevertheless she had the dexterity to dissemble her fear, and to express nothing of it to the Queen; but as soon as she saw her self at liberty to discourse with her favourite Maid, she opened her heart unto her in a way full of confidence, and said, I know not what end I am to expect from so happy a beginning; but I must confess, that all Elizabeth's favours are suspected by me; methinks I have still much to suffer, and I cannot believe that the end of my misfortune is so near as it seems to be. There is nothing so dangerous, pursued she, as the mildness of those People who never are accustomend to show any; this turn of Elizabeth's is too sudden to be sincere, and I am very much afraid that this is rather a disguise, than a real mitigation of her cruelty.  
This Maid entirely loved the Princess, she apprehended it might add to her fear, if she informed her of the course which the Duke of Alançon had taken to see her, and of the promise which she had made the governor to bring the Prince into her Mistresses Chamber; so that she had a good mind to make a Secret to her of this whole Intrigue; but that secrecy not agreeing with the Fidelity she owed the Princess, who expressed to her as much Friendship, as Confidence, she believed her self obliged to inform her of all that had past, had it been only to seek expedients to prevent the consequences of it. This Princess, who had an infinite goodness, and, besides, who plainly saw that the Maid had acted only out of an excess of Affection for her, gave her not one vexatious word, but turning all her thoughts upon the present condition of her fortune, and running over in her mind the different misfortunes to which she believed she was going to be exposed, her heart grew tender, and some tears rolled down from her eyes, I plainly perceive( said she in wiping them) that my Life is to be nothing but a complication of miseries, and that the end of one disgrace will be always to me the beginning of another. For, in fine( pursued she, addressing her self to Meneville) I do not believe that the Duke of Alançon can have any share in the Intrigue you mention; 'tis an artifice of the Queen's invention, that she may have a pretence to destroy me, and I am very sensible that my first apprehensions were but too well grounded; but what afflictions soever they denounce to me, I behold them without terror, I have long since prepared myself for all that it shall please Heaven to ordain for me, and I expect no end to my misfortunes, but with that of my Life. Ah, Madam( replied Meneville▪ who was in despair for what she had done) rid yourself of a foresight that afflicts you, and seek not in futurity the mischiefs which never will arrive; you have suffered enough of real miseries, without creating to yourself imaginary troubles; whatever you say unto me, I awe verily persuaded, that it was the Duke of Alançon who made the governor act, and that the Queen knew nothing of our Intelligence. The Liberty she gives you, is an effect of the promises she made you some days ago, and your patience hath vanquished the malice of your destiny. Cheer up yourself then, Madam( pursued she, throwing her self upon her knees) poison not the joy which you ought to have upon this occasion, by fears more cruel than the miseries themselves, which occasion them; make use to your advantage of the Queens favour, the liberty she gives you will furnish you with means to preserve it; and were it true, that she contrived some new mischief against you, will it not be much easier for you to defend yourself from it, when you shall be at liberty, than if you still remain in the condition wherein you now are. All these Reasons did not lessen the Princess's trouble, though Elizabeth forgot nothing of her side to gain a confidence, and to dissipate her fears. She carried her that very day into the Country with her, she gave her a share in all her pleasures, and imparted to her some of her secrets; there past nothing between them but caresses, and protestations of Friendship, and a patched reconciliation never had fairer appearances.  
This News was too surprising not to be soon published, and the Princess having a great many Favourers in England, all the World rejoiced at her Liberty.  
The Duke of Alançon was the only Man who was afflicted at it, though he had the greatest cause of joy; he understood that Elizabeth had lain in the Castle that very same night, on which he believed that he had discoursed with the Princess. This Circumstance made him enter into some apprehensions for her, and he who would have hazarded a thousand lives to deliver Marianna from her Prison, would give it now with all his heart, to place her there again.  
In the mean time, not knowing that the governor had betrayed him, and fearing to be discovered, if he made any longer stay in the Queen's neighbourhood, he speedily returned to London, from whence he was forced to depart in a very little time after, to go to the assistance of the Revolters in the Netherlands, who did long since solicit him to come and put himself at the head of their Forces, to complete their deliverance from the Tyrannical Dominion of the Spaniards.  
The young Prince did not neglect to deface, by his brave actions in this War, the stains which his Voyage into England had seemed to cast upon his Renown; and his Courage being raised, either by the discontents which he received from Elizabeth, or by hope that the report of his Valour would reach Marianna's ears, he roused in Elizabeth's heart the passion which her resentment against the Prince seemed to lay asleep. She writ unto him Letters, no less obliging, than full of artifice; wherein mingling with the excessive praises she gave him, ambiguous excuses of her Conduct. She endeavoured to draw him once more into England, with the same Bait, as she had done before. I will report only one of her Letters, which will make you judge of the rest.  
SIR,  
I Have too great a share in all your Concerns, to delay any longer the expression of my joy for the success of your Glorious Undertakeings. I rejoice that the Spanish Towns defend themselves no better against you, than the Ladies hearts, and to see, that you daily justify the choice I made of you, out of all the Princes of Europe, to make you a present of my Heart, and Crown. Methinks I may now receive comfort for being overcome by a Prince, who finds nothing that resists him, and that there is some glory to augment the number of your Conquests, since you make none but what are Illustrious. If there be any thing afflicts me upon this occasion; it is, that the manner that you partend with me, the last time we saw each other, makes me fear, lest you wish me as much harm, as I wish you good. I should be in despair, to have a quarrel with a Man who treats his Enemies so ill; return, I conjure you, as soon as is possible, to free me from this unquietness, as well as from the continual fears which the dangers whereunto your Life is incessantly exposed, do give me. I am every hour afraid lest the fortune of the War should rob you in a moment of all the fruit of your Labours; and lest those laurels which cost you so much sweat, may at length be soiled with a blood which I would ransom at the expense of my own. Believe me, Sir, what honours soever you may have won, they equal not those which I prepare for you at your return; and I hope that I shall make you at some time confess, that there is less pleasure in gaining Victories in Flanders, than in Reigning in England, and in the heart of  
Elizabeth.  
How pressing soever was this Letter, with three or four others of the same style; the Duke of Alançon was become so suspicious, by reason of the experience he had made, that he never could have resolved to return into England, had he not been called thither, by a Charm more powerful than Queen Elizabeth's Promises.  
The Princess Marianna's beauty, whose Picture he had always preserved, and the alarms the Queens Cruelty continually gave him, for that fair Princess's Life, did not permit him to stay any longer from her. He therefore disposed himself for his return, contrary to the Counsels of Du Lac, and the pressing solicitations of the Flemmings, who would not have let him depart, had he not shown them the Queen's Letters, and promised to come back to them, as soon as it would be possible for him.  
He therefore departed, after having given order for every thing, with a great deal of care; and chance would have it, that he arrived at London, the very day before, that the Queen, who with the Princess had continued all that while in the Country, returned thither. So that without giving himself time to rest, after the fatigue of his Voyage, and to receive the Compliments which all Men prepared to give him, he went on the morrow to meet the Queen and Princess, in company of several Lords of the realm, who went, not so much to make their Court to the Queen, as to satisfy their curiosity of seeing the Princess Marianna. They met them on the way, within four Leagues of London, both in the same Coach; the sight of the Duke of Alançon gave Queen Elizabeth a great deal of joy, time had worn away a great part of her anger, and the great qualities of that Prince, which common famed did every where publish, had almost obliged her once more to wish him her Husband; so that she received him with a thousand marks of esteem, and this interview was full of satisfaction on both sides. After the Duke of Alançon had Saluted the Queen, and Princess, he presented to them all the Lords, whom Queen Elizabeth received with the best grace in the world. She gave the Duke of Alançon a thousand praises in their presence, and the Prince having answered her with as much modesty, as wit, he turned the Conversation upon a Subject, which was much more agreeable to him. Madam, said he to the Queen, methinks your Majesty deserves all those praises, you are pleased to give me, and the Prisoner whom you have delivered, is worth a thousand of such Victories as you attribute to me. The Princess blushed at these words, and her blushy did justify what the Prince had said. Her confusion was not so great, as to hinder her from answering; yet she did pretend to understand nothing of that Gallantry, either because she clearly saw, that the Queen would free her from the trouble of replying to it, or because she was afraid to be engaged so publicly in a Discourse with the Duke. So that the Queen taking the word in her stead, I know not( said she) whether the Princess will agree to what you say, but I fear this Prisoner will soon make Illustrious Captives, and that men who are accustomend to overcome, will not be altogether in security near her.  
The Duke without any difficulty understood the Queen's meaning; but as he was sufficiently in love to be discreet, he choose rather to appear a little less Gallant, than to hazard a Secret, which began to be the serious business of his Life. He therefore dissembled his real Sentiments from the Queen, and  told her, That as dangerous as that Prisoner was, the Men whom she meant, need not fear her Charms, since they no longer had any liberty to lose.  
Nevertheless, he pronounced these words in turning his whole body towards Elizabeth, and as softly as was possible, to the end, that they might not be understood by Marianna. The Princess knowing what Engagements were between the Queen, and the Duke, thought it not proper for her to intrude into their Discourse; besides, having never seen the Duke but once, she had little to say to him. The Duke for his part, was not much less circumspectly, and was for the future more careful of his Conduct, than he had been in the beginning. The Lords who came along with him, follow his example; for apprehending to displease the Queen, they concealed part of their joy for the Princess's enlargement, and made demonstration only of so much as decency and civility obliged them to. But the People, who were not to observe the same measures as the Courtiers, received Marianna with all the marks of a public cheerfulness. It cannot be imagined what pressing there was to see her, and the Guards had much ado to keep off the crowd, which so rational a curiosity had gathered about the Coach. Elizabeth received a thousand blessings as she went along, and they never gave her so many expressions of amity, and good will; she plainly perceived to whom she was indebted for them; her jealousy was increased, and her cruel Resolutions were the more confirmed thereby; but doubling her dissimulation, according to the necessity she believed she should have of it, she was no sooner arrived, but she gave the Princess one of the richest Apartments of the Palace, and ordered her an Equipage suitable to the greatness of her Birth, and still continued to show her so much favour, that the young Princess began to lose her first suspicions, and to have really for Elizabeth that affection which she expressed towards her.  
She had not of a long time enjoyed so peaceable a state of mind, and her health, which the tediousness of her confinement had a little altered, was now perfectly restored. So that she became fairer then ever; and in a little time, she gained over hearts an Empire far more noble than that which Elizabeth had deprived her of. The Conquest of the Duke of Alançon was too far advanced to remain imperfect; the young Prince, already half vanquished, could no longer resist so many charms: He at length became desperately in love with them, and his passion in a little time equalled that Beauty which had created it.  
Love stays not long in a heart, without making itself known, and the Effects it produceth there, are the Marks that discover it. The Duke of Alançon, who had had some transitory Gallantries in the Court of France, soon perceived that the inclination he had for Marianna was not of that Character, and that compassion had a very little share in his Sentiments; he never went about to oppose a passion, which he found already formed. He would have been overjoyed to change▪ Elizabeth for Marianna; this Princess's Beauty, and the just pretensions she had to the Crown, no less flattered his Ambition, than his Love; she had a party infinitely numerous, ready to declare for her. Elizabeth had several secret Enemies disposed to revolt. It was matter worthy of the Duke of Alançon's Generosity to re-establish an injured Princess. The Prince, who was of an age which the love of Glory never inspires but with noble undertakings, found something so Heroical in this, that it re-inflamed his courage, and the hopes of revenging Queen Elizabeth's falsities, by Marrying with the fairest Creature of the Age, finished his resolution. The first thing he had to do, was to engage the Princess in a design, of which she her self was the principal cause. The Duke of Alançon's heart could no longer conceal the passion which filled it, it had long ago desired, with pressing solicitations, the ease of discovering it. At last, after the usual combat upon such occasions, he resolved to do it. But that was not enough; it was almost impossible to speak with the Princess, she was( as it were) besieged, and the Queen never forsook her.  
Love has a thousand tricks to deceive Spies; the Duke found out one which had success. Being one day with the Queen, he approached a window, upon which the Princess, who was not far off, had left her Gloves; he purposely threw one of them down into a little Garden of Flowers that was under it, and ran hastily to take it up again; and Marianna; being willing to spare him that trouble, they both met, as he had foreseen they should, upon the Stairs, which led into the Garden, whereinto the Glove was fallen, Madam( said he, with a tone between brisk, and serious) you expect possibly excuses for the pains which my indiscretion gives you; but you will be very much surprised, if I make you reproaches. Why?( replied the Princess.) Without suspecting you of being little acknowledging( pursued the Duke) you will, Madam, confess, that there is some sort of ingratitude to rob those of their liberty, who were so much concerned for yours. The Princess, who did not thoroughly understand these words,  told the Duke that they were Riddles to her; the Prince esteemed them too intelligible to want an explanation; and not divining what could render them so obscure to the Princess, he believed, that she pretended only no●… to understand them, as the great●… part of Women do▪ to draw o●… a more open declaration. So tha● this thought increasing his boldness. I will explain myself more clearly Madam( said he) since you desire it, and will ingenuously confess, that having not been able to see you unfortunate, without pitying you, I could not see you so beautiful, without loving you, during the tediousness of your cruel Captivity. I thought I had only a compassion for you, which would end with your Misfortunes; but your Chains are broken, Madam, and I find myself more sensible for you than ever. Divine what may cause it, and consider whether in your present Condition you can inspire any other Passion than that of Love.  
The Princess was so surprised at this Declaration, that she knew not at first after what manner she ●… uld take it; but at length, per●… ving that the place where she ●… s did not permit her to stay ●… ong with the Duke, she  told him, ●… hat she was so little accustomend to hear things of the nature that he had said unto her, that she desired to be excused, if she deferred until another time the answer which she could not then make him; that he knew, as well as her self, the Queen's humour, who without doubt observed them, and had already perceived that they were together.  
The beginning of this Confidence charmed the Duke, he was very willing to say more unto her, but the Princess began already to mount the Stairs. Ah! Madam( said the Duke in staying her by the rob) Grant me at least one moment I conjure you, and give me not over to the cruel uncertainty you leave me in. It cannot be,( replied the Princess) but it shall not be my fault, if I give you not at another time the satisfaction you desire: She said these last words in going up stairs, so that the Duke perceived not the blushy that attended them. But Elizabeth, who let nothing escape, observed it presently, and seeing the Duke enter in a moment after, with the remainders of the emotion which was occasioned by what he had done, she judged, that the fall of the Glove was not an effect of chance, but that it was a thing agreed upon between the Duke and Princess. She rallied with them for it as it were by way of Discourse; but she in vain counterfeited pleasantness, the tone of her voice had nothing in it of raillery, and made too plain a demonstration of the secret jealousy which made her speak. There happened almost the same thing to the Duke and Princess. The subject matter of that jesting was of too much consequence to divert them; and though they both had an infinite deal of wit, they could not so well reply to the Queen's railleries, but that she observed something serious in the midst of the jollity that they affencted; so that none of them deceived the other, and instead of disguising their Sentiments, they all made a further discovery of them.  
This Conversation was too delicate and perplexing to last long. The Princess, who was very impatient to be alone, was the first that broken it, and retired into her apartment, as thoughtful as could be imagined, after the Adventure which had happened to her. She was not the only one in the Court of England, who had been sensible of the Duke of Alançon's Charms. She had often made secret Vows for the breaking off his Marriage, and as often as she heard it said that it would never be accomplished, she felt a certain joy at the bottom of her heart, of which she knew not the cause. 'Tis true, she made very little reflection upon it, and gave her self over to these movements, without giving her self the trouble of considering whence they did proceed; but the pleasure she received in hearing from the Duke of Alançon's own mouth, that she had smitten him with Love, making her recollect her self, she perceived with sorrow, that this Love was not suitable to the distance at which she had always kept from Gallantry, she was confounded with shane for rejoicing at a thing which ought to have afflicted her; she reproached her self for the last words she had said to the Duke, as being a weakness, which would give him more contempt of her, than esteem. She thought of the measures she had to keep with Elizabeth, and how dangerous it was to entertain that Prince as a Lover, whom all the World regarded as her Husband. In fine, so many things presented themselves to her mind, that to seek for some repose in the disturbance wherein she was, she went to bed, and desired to be left alone with Meneville, whose Company was almost all her comfort. She then related to her all that had past between the Duke▪ and her self; the invention that Prince made use of, the way he had spoken to her, and all the rest of this Adventure. Afterwards calling to mind what this Maid had formerly  told her, of the earnestness the Duke of Alançon had shown to see her, during her Imprisonment, and of the promise she had made to the governor of the Castle, to introduce him into her Chamber; she found that all that agreed well enough with his words, and with the g●llant reproach whereby he had beg●n the declaration he made to her▪ So that she began to believe that the Duke of Alançon had effectually made all those advances to see her, and that the passion which that Prince had expressed to her, had sprung out of compassion for her Misfortunes. For if it be not so( said she to her self) why should he tell me that he had been concerned for my Liberty, and that he had not been able to see me unfortunate, without pitying me? But then, if it be so, Why did not the governor of the Castle bring him, as it had been agreed upon between you? And why did he fail to be punctual in that point, after having proceeded so far? You will not be surprised at it, Madam, said the Maid, when I shall have  told you, that the Queen lay in the Castle that very same Night that the Duke of Alançon was to see you, and without doubt it was the fear of being discovered, that hindered the governor from being so good as his word. That appeared so probable, that the Princess became of the same opinion as the Maid; so that this Discovery put an end to all the frights which she had been in upon this occasion. She began to believe, that the Queen had come to the Castle, without any other design, than that of restoring her to Liberty; and that perceiving her Authority thoroughly established, she had believed that she ran no hazard in delivering her out of Prison.  
This thought did for sometime appease the trouble wherein she was; but proceeding to make new reflections upon the Declaration the Duke had made, and upon the joy she had conceived at it, she took fresh alarms: She plainly perceived that that beginning of an Adventure would not be without consequence. The Duke had not made such a step with a design of sticking there; the air wherewith he had spoken to her, left her no room to doubt of his passion. She found in her self a very great disposition to aclowledge it, and expected but a very weak resistance from her reason. In the mean time, to harken to the Duke, was to expose her self again to all Elizabeth's fury, and to replunge her self in an Abyss much more dreadful, than that was, out of which she had escaped. It must be confessed, cried out she in these sad Reflections, that my destiny hath something in it very strange; I am no sooner escaped out of one danger, but I see myself engaged in another. For, in fine, how soever I carry myself towards the Duke of Alançon, if it is true that he hath for me the sentiments he has expressed, the Queen will not be long without taking notice of them. I know not whether her penetration has not gone before even my fears, and whether her suspicions have not already reached beyond the truth. Madam( interrupted Meneville) there comes into my head a thought, that will possibly appear to you a little foolish in your present Condition, but I cannot forbear to mention it to you; and if you will be pleased to take the pains to examine it.  
What is it then( interrupted the Princess) 'tis( pursued Meneville) that you would spare the Duke of Alançon all those unprofitable steps, which Women are accustomend to suffer the Men to make, before they give them a favourable hearing; and which for the most part are good for nothing but to, discover a Passion they cannot afterwards conceal, whatever precautions they may take for that purpose. Is this( said the Princess) the good advice you give? I doubted Madam( pursued the Confident) that you would not at first approve of it; but if you will consider it a little, you will not possibly find it so unreasonable as you imagine. For indeed, continued she, can you desire a Lover more worthy of you, than this Young Prince? Hath he not all the Qualities that can exalt a Man above others? The Consummation of his Marriage with the Queen, begins already to be desperate; and for my own part, I believe, that Fortune brought him into England for you alone. This is a favourable opportunity to free yourself from Elizabeth's Tyranny, and perhaps you shall never find the like again, if you lose this.  
These Reasons were supported by the impressions which the Duke's Charms had made in the Princess's Spirit, and she would have been glad to hid the inclination of her heart under a pretext of policy; but her mind was still so replenished with the Ideas of her confinement, and the state of her Fortune appeared to her so tottering, that it was hard for her to entertain thoughts so gay, as those of a Gallantry. So that rejecting the advice Meneville gave her, she  told her, That she would indeed be glad to have the Duke of Alançon for a Protector, but that she never thought of making him her Lover. That he had too strict bonds with the Queen for that, That the advances he had made to her Majesty, were sufficient demonstrations of his Ambition; That his Marriage was not quiter broken off for being delayed; and that he was far from forsaking the hopes of a Crown, of which he was almost assured, to unite himself to a Princess's Fortunes, who had only a Title to it, and even that uncertain. Nevertheless( added she) if I believed that he had other Sentiments, and that he was generous enough to sacrifice all these advantages to the passion which he has expressed for me, I would not be answerable for my own heart, and I know not whether it would have strength enough to defend itself: But alas( pursued she) these examples of Generosity are no longer found, the Duke of Alançon is infallibly made like other men, he will retake his heart with the same ease as he may have given it; and the first assurances of Friendship Elizabeth shall give him, will prevail in a moment, over the feeble impressions which I may have been able to make upon his Spirit: But if he were constant enough to love me for ever, and if he should distinguish himself from those of his own Sex, by that, as well as by all other things; yet Ambition would still work in him the same effect as inconstancy.  
While the Princess entertained her self after this manner, Elizabeth was not much less disturbed. The Adventure of the Glove had made her gather all those consequences which the Princess had foreseen she would, and her vexation had almost made the storm, which was long since formed in the bottom of her heart, to break out upon this occasion; but she was willing to manage the interest of her Love, together with that of her Revenge, and to do her endeavour to assure her self of the Duke of Alançon, before she destroyed the Princess.  
It is usual enough for Persons, who are disturbed by two such violent passions, to change their Resolutions and Sentiments, accordingly as one of those two becomes the stronger. Elizabeth's heart did long since experience that vicissitude, and it being equally divided, between the love of her Authority, and that which she had for the Duke of Alançon; these two passions destroyed and mastered each other by turns, so that her mind could stick upon no fixed resolution. But at length her inclination for the Prince being very much augmented, and the jealousy Marianna's Beauty gave her, having turned the balance on Love's side, she resolved to do her utmost endeavours to resist the Charms of so dangerous a Rival.  
Some have believed that her passion did at last carry her so far, as that she had a design to mary the Duke of Alançon, contrary to the Resolutions she had once taken; to the end that she might deprive the Princess of all hopes of that Marriage; but she was contriving another expedient, to set her heart at rest upon that score. Besides, there was little probability, that knowing as she did, the aversion the Prince had for her, she should desire to take for her Husband, that Man, whom she daily discovered to be the greatest Enemy she had in the World. However, she acted almost as if that had been her intention; and this was not the first time that jealousy hath produced the like effects in Persons so apt as Elizabeth was to that malicious passion.  
The Duke of Alançon was very much surprised to see the Queen redouble her favours, when he least deserved them; but he was much more astonished one day, when Elizabeth having engaged him in a particular Conversation, she spake to him after the following manner. I doubt not, Sir, but that my delays may have given you an ill opinion of my sincerity, and that you may have believed I would break my word with you, because I have hitherto delayed the performance of my Promises; but if you have been willing to make a little reflection upon those things which I  told you, the first time we saw each other, you might have drawn thence conclusions for my justification, which would perhaps have suspended your judgement. Indeed( pursued she, without giving him time to answer) I confess unto you, that I would have been glad, before the consummation of our Marriage, to oblige the Earl of Leicester to quit is pretensions; and I was in hopes that the competition of such a Prince as you, would make him aclowledge his temerity; but he, on the contrary, becoming more bold, and more insolent after your arrival, even to that degree, as to counterfeit my Seal( as I very well remember I have  told you upon another occasion) to render my Faith suspected by you; you know to what extremities I was forced to proceed, in order to chastise his Audacity. I plainly perceived at the time I took this Resolution, that I should exasperate a part of the Parliament, which hath always protected him; and that I should find a great deal of difficulty to make his favourers assent to our Marriage; but I had always hopes to bring it about in time; and I flattered myself that your presence would assist me very much, to overcome this new Obstacle. In the mean time, notwithstanding all my endeavours for that purpose, I have not yet been able to succeed in it. I have been several times upon the point of discovering to you every thing; but I still apprehended lest you should believe that it was only a pretence for my delays, and I was unwilling to tell you any thing of it, until I should have seen myself in a condition to join effects to words, that I might leave you in no uncertainty. You are then about to know( pursued she) that I am more sincere than you have perhaps imagined; and without staying for the consent of some seditious Persons, who will without doubt yield after the example of others; This Ring, which I give you, as the first pledge of our Marriage, shall assure you, that I will be always ready to conclude it as soon as you please.  
This Discourse of Elizabeth's was not altogether without foundation, and it was true, that one part of the Parliament did oppose her Marriage. But the Duke of Alançon knew well enough that the Earl of Leicester was not the cause of it, and that the interest of the Protestant Religion, of which they were apprehensive, was the only Motive that made them act. So that the Prince judging of the Queen's whole Discourse by that part of it, believed that it contained no truth at all; and he considered it as a new Snare laid by Elizabeth to entrap him; but the reasons he had to say nothing, that might make his passion be suspected, obliging him to much observance, he made no difficulty to accept the Ring presented him by the Queen, and to receive it even with great expressions of acknowledgement. Not but that his love for the Princess was strong enough to oppose that Engagement; but he made no question but that Elizabeth would be the first to break it, and that she would spare him the pains of being worse than his word.  
In the mean time Elizabeth caused the preparations for her Marriage to be renewed. Nothing else was discoursed of at Court, and those who had always doubted it before, began then to change their Opinions.  
The Duke of Alançon, who was capable of nothing but Love, and who at that time coveted not the Crown, but to put it on Marianna's head, found nothing in those Reports that flattered him, but the hopes of showing that Princess, how he was ready to forsake all for her. He went with this design to visit her, and having been so happy as to find her alone, Madam( said he) will you at this day grant me the favour you made me hope for at the Queen's apartment; and will you at last instruct me what is to be my destiny. I believe, Sir( said Marianna) that you may be the better informed of it, from common famed, than from my mouth; and I do not think, that having Elizabeth's consent, you stand in need of my suffrage, to make yourself King of England. The Princess pronounced these words with an air sufficiently denoting, that the report spread abroad was not indifferent to her; and it was a kind of ambiguous reproach, which she made the Duke of Alançon, because he made declarations of Love to her, when he was upon the point of being Married to another.  
Ah! Madam ( replied the Duke) I foresaw the answer you would make me, and I knew well enough that what is said in the world, would not fail to render my sincerity suspected by you. I therefore took this opportunity to prevent such suspicions as may arise from my conduct, and to destroy those which you may perhaps have already conceived. For, Madam ( pursued he with an action very passionate) I am come only to assure you, that I own no other greatness than that of serving you; and that I am ready to renounce all the Empires in the World, to submit myself to that you have acquired over my heart. Speak then, Madam, continued he, throwing himself upon his knees, and be persuaded, that I esteem it more glorious to lie at your feet, than to be upon a Throne which Elizabeth hath wrested from you. I should be sorry ( replied the Princess, in obliging him to rise) to be the disappointment of your Fortune, and notwithstanding what you tell me, I believe that I cannot do any thing for you, that may recompense the loss of a Crown. I am not happy enough ( replied the Duke,) to have a Crown to lose for your sake, since Heaven has bestowed none upon me; and I will not render myself an accomplice of Elizabeth's Crimes, in sharing with her your Spoils. For in fine, Madam, though the passion I have for you, should still leave some room for ambition in my heart, I would endeavour to satisfy it by ways less infamous, and more lawful, than that of Usurpation: The Crown of England is a good that I am no longer allowed to covet, since it appertains to you, and if I desired any other, it would be, Madam, only to accompany the present I make you of my heart. Explain yourself then, Madam, once more, and if it be only the care of my Fortune that restrains you, be assured, that however you treat me, I will never desire any other fate than yours. The Duke of Alançon uttered these last words with so sincere an air, that the Princess was moved at it. The inclination, she felt at the bottom of her heart, for the Prince, was more persuasive than himself. So that not being able to resist such powerful solicitations, How pressing are you, Sir, said she, putting her hand over her face to hid her trouble, what will you have me tell you? does not the condition wherein you see me let you understand enough? And do not you know that there are certain confessions which a woman cannot make without confusion? She had thitherto still kept her eyes fixed on the ground, as if she had not dared to look upon the Duke; but she had then recourse to them, to finish the answer she had begun to make, and turning them sweetly upon him, she let him see a certain disorder so moving, that the Prince almost died with joy.  
There was a probability that these two Lovers would not part until they had made all the assurances of a mutual tenderness; but this Conference, whose beginning had been so pleasant, ended by an adventure which gave Elizabeth the highest provocation, and hastened the Princess's ruin.  
The Duke of Alançon had a certain weakness in his constitution, which made him swoon away at the scent of Roses. The Princess who loved them mightily, had abundance of them in her Flowerpots about the Chamber. The Duke who had no eyes but for the Princess Marianna, did not perceive these Flowers, so that they had time to work all their effects upon him, and as he was already very much transported with so tender a conversation, the Princess was very much amazed to see him on the sudden change colour, and fall down into the arms of one of her Maids, who advanced purposely to support him. It is difficult enough to judge of the perplexity which this accident gave her; but it was quiter another thing, when she saw the Queen come in, who had unluckily chosen that time to visit her; she found the Princess in disorder, the Duke of Alançon stretched out upon the Floor; four or five Women about him, with the earnestness, as may be fancied, upon such an occasion. What an unseasonable visit was this? When we are in love with any one, we are easily persuaded, that the party is beloved by others, as well as by ourselves. Queen Elizabeth easily suspected Marianna guilty of a weakness which she felt her self. The Princess had then all the emotion of a woman, who had newly made her first confession to a man, that she loved him: the vexatious consequences that might follow that princes Trance, gave her a certain disquiet, mixed with a tenderness, which left nothing concealed in her heart. Elizabeth, whom a thousand reasons rendered penetrating, failed not to take the Duke's Trance for the effect of an amorous Transport. She judged that it must have proceeded from some extraordinary cause, and gave her self over entirely to her suspicions. In the mean time they endeavoured to bring the Duke of Alançon to himself again; Elizabeth sent in all hast for her Physicians; and at length, by their assistance, he recovered the use both of his senses and speech.  
He was strangely surprised, when he opened his eyes, to see the Queen by his side. He in that moment foresaw all that Marianna had to fear from that adventure, and perceiving that it was of the utmost consequence to justify her to the Queen, he recovered all the presence of his mind, to deliver her out of so bad a circumstance. This was not the first time that the like accident had happened to him; casting his eyes all about the Chamber, he accidentally perceived the Flowerpots, in which the Roses were. There, Madam( said he, in showing them to the Queen) is the cause of my swooning; the same thing has often happened to me in the Court of France; 'tis a weakness that was born with me, for which I can find no remedy. The Physicians who were present reasoned about it, according to their custom, and were of opinion that such a thing might be; few men are ignorant, that one of the Princes of the Famiy of Guise was subject to the same accident: but Elizabeth was far from imagining so extraordinary, and so surprising a cause, whilst that her jealousy furnished her with one so natural, and which suited so well with the aversion she had for Marianna. She was glad to find a person criminal, whom she was resolved to destroy, and to have some reason that might fortify her against the horror her Conscience gave her for the crime she was about to commit. But as if there had been still wanting something else to fix her resolution, this accident was followed by another which turned into a fury all the passion she had for the Duke of Alançon, and which alone would have been sufficient to induce her to the most dreadful extremities.  
Immediately after the last conference she had held with the Duke of Alançon, she had given orders for the preparing a Ball which was to be danced the very same day as all this that I have now related came to pass. How vexed soever she was at her departure from the Princess, there was no probability she would break an appointment, to which the whole Court had been invited: Besides, being on the point of executing the horrid design, which she long ago did meditate; dissimulation was more necessary for her than ever; she therefore did all she could to appear gay all the rest of the day, and being desirous to make a last Effort upon the Duke of Alançon's heart, she forgot nothing that might make her appear beautiful.  
She caused her self to be dressed with all the advantage as was possible for her; and having been informed, that there was one of the Princess's Maids who knew a new-fashioned Dress for the head, she sent for her to make trial of it. But what addition of grief did she receive, when she saw upon the Maids Finger the Ring she had three or four days before given the Duke of Alançon. The real truth is, it had fallen from the Prince in Marianna's Chamber, by reason of the bustle that was made about him, during his Swoon; and this Maid, who had found it, took it up with an intention to restore it to him, but as yet had no opportunity to do it. But Elizabeth, who took every thing in the worst sense, began to imagine quiter another thing, and remembering that this Maid had taken a great deal of pains to bring the Duke to himself again, she was persuaded, that the Prince, having been  told of her earnestness, had been willing to aclowledge it by the present of that Ring. 'Tis true, that this suspicion was not very reasonable; but it found such easy entrance into her mistrustful and jealous mind, that she never took the trouble of informing her self of the truth, and did not at all doubt, but that the matter was as she had imagined it. She had much rather the Duke had sacrificed that Ring to the Princess, than made a liberality of that nature. This pretended scorn seemed to her the most sensible affront that she could ever receive: her eyes immediately sparkled with anger, and the rage that had seized her heart, soon shew'd itself in her countenance. The first thing that came into her mind was to break up the Assembly, and to stay until the Duke came to fetch her, that she might make him a thousand reproaches; but knowing that Marianna's Life was in her hands, she had rather be revenged than complain, and her resentment was no longer of a nature to break out without some effect.  
She was no sooner dressed, but she goes into her Closet, opens a Casket, takes out a pair of poisoned Gloves, which she had been careful to furnish her self with, and with that horrid precaution she expected the Duke, who in a moment after came to wait upon her to the Ball.  
This Assembly was one of the finest that could be seen. All the Ladies were dressed according to the Queen's example, and their eyes were dazzled with the splendour of the Jewels that sparkled from all parts. The Duke of Alançon never appeared with a better mien; the Conversation he had had with Marianna, had given him a Fond of joy, that inspired him with an air much more gallant than usual, and it seemed that all the Ladies had fixed their eyes only on him, as all the Men had on Marianna. Nevertheless that Princess appeared a little sad and negligent, in a place that seemed appointed for mirth; either by reason of the accident that had happened to the Duke of Alançon in her Chamber, or else it was some secret presage of the misfortune which threatened her. But neither her melancholy, nor her negligence could hinder her from obscuring all that was beautiful in the Room, and as often as she danced, she did it with so much Grace, and Majesty, that she filled all those with love, and admiration, who did not look upon her with envy. She pleased but too much, and it is to be wished, for her sake, that all her Charms had forsaken her, e're they had rendered Elizabeth's jealousy so fatal to her.  
The Duke of Alançon, who had resolved to observe an entire complaisance towards the Queen, could not possibly do it; his eyes suffered themselves insensibly to follow the inclinations of his heart; and notwithstanding his endeavours to bring them back upon Elizabeth, as soon as he gave them a little liberty, they turned themselves upon Marianna. This division could not be done without a great deal of distraction; Elizabeth jeered him for it, as if he had not been yet well recovered out of his Trance. The Duke desiring to hinder her from guessing at the true cause of his melancholy, agreed to what the Queen  told him. Afterwards the Conversation being entirely turned, upon the accident that had befallen the Prince, every Man declared his Opinion of it. The Princess, who was unwilling to be far from the Queen, believed that she had no better way to take in that perplexity, than to express, as well as others, the astonishment she conceived at so extraordinary a matter. As for my own part( said she with that design) I believe that Roses would be more likely to recover me out of a Trance, than to make me fall into one. I generally love all manner of sweets, but the scent of that Flower pleases me above all others. Elizabeth desired only some pretence to bring about that horrid design which she had in her mind. She thought this occasion the most proper in the world, to make with a good grace the fatal Present she destined for the Princess. I am very glad that you love sweet smells( said she unto her, in taking out the Gloves she had brought along, and giving them her) how agreeable soever you find the scent of Roses, I am persuaded that this Perfume will please you much more. The smell of these Gloves was really as agreeable, as the Poison was subtle.  
Marianna was immediately charmed with them, she could not forbear smelling them; and as she commended them very much; I give them you with all my heart( said the Queen to her) since they please you, and you will oblige me extremely to accept of them. The Princess, who was far from mistrusting so horrid a treachery, received that mortal present with joy, and taking off her own Gloves immediately from her hands, to put those on, as if she had been of the Plot together with the Queen, to destroy her self, she gave the Poison time enough to work its effect. The Duke of Alançon was accidentally taken out to dance, in the moment that all this past between Elizabeth, and the Princess. She found her self very much indisposed that very Evening, her Sickness increased in the night, and on the morrow it became so violent, that they began to be in fear for her life  
This sad News was soon spread all abroad, the Duke of Alançon was not the last▪ who heard it; he ran immediately to the Princess's Lodgings to be better informed of it: But, O God! what was his amazement, when entering into her Chamber, he saw her in a Bed, with Five or Six Women about her, who were melting in tears: He cried out at that sight, and thereby awaked the Princess out of a profound Slumber, which they had in vain endeavoured to do. As soon as she perceived the Prince, she turned her eyes languishingly upon him, as if his voice had reached rather her heart than her ears; and the Duke accosting her with excuses, for the liberty which the sad news he had heard, had made him take. You have done me a pleasure( said she to him with a weak voice) in coming to see me, and I am glad to converse with you once more before I die. Ah, Madam, what is it you say( cried out the Duke, quiter besides himself.) It is with grief I tell it you( replied the Princess) but I plainly perceive that I am poisoned. Elizabeth has restored my liberty only to deprive me of life, and her cruelty hath stayed until I had seen and loved you, to make me die with regret.  
These words caused so violent a grief in the Duke of Alançon, that his countenance was quiter altered with it; so that the Princess having perceived it; I knew you to be so generous( pursued she) that I easily believed you would be concerned at this my last misfortune, since you were so much moved at my others; I also confess unto you, that I am more sensible of this for your sake, than I should otherwise be; the loss of life is indifferent to me; but to lose you afflicts me; and I wish with all my heart, that either they had given me my death sooner, or had suffered me now to live longer.  
The Duke of Alançon could hear nothing more agreeable, or more tormenting all at a time. Though the Conversation he had held the day before with the Princess, had been very full of tenderness; yet she had never said any thing so obliging as at that instant. But all these marks of Affection, which at another time would have filled him with joy, now adding only what was possible to his sorrow. Alas, Madam( cried he still quiter transported) who would ever have believed that you could have given me affliction, by telling me that you love me? Say rather that you mortally hate me, if it be true that I must lose you; and conceal from me a good Fortune, that can be no otherwise useful to me, than to render me the most miserable of Men. In ending these words, he let himself fall upon the Princess's Bed, and remained some time without speaking. Afterwards, as if he had come out of a profound contemplation; I have  told you with much truth, Madam( said he again, almost without considering what he was about to say) that the Perfidious Elizabeth would not be long e're she made you feel the effects of her hatred, and if you remember the discourse I had with you, during your Imprisonment—  
But alas!( pursued he, interrupting himself) shall I never utter any predictions, but what are fatal to you, and am I come hither only to redouble your terrors, instead of giving you some comfort: No, no, Madam( continued he) Elizabeth is not so cruel as you imagine; think only on your recovery, and if it be true, that I am not altogether indifferent to you, be careful of my life, by preserving your own.  
Instead of answering these words, the Princess would employ the little time she had left, in informing her self of a thing, which she had never perfectly understood; and perceiving that the Duke spoken of a discourse, which he said he had held with her during her imprisonment, and calling to mind, that she had heard him frequently say the like things, which she had never comprehended, she desired an explanation of it, telling him that she knew not what he meant; that he must be either deceived, or else that there lay some mystery hidden under it, of which they both were ignorant. The Duke hearing her talk after that manner, began to believe that she was very ill, since she had lost the remembrance of a thing so fresh, which, as he thought, was not of a nature to be easily forgot. So that desiring to refresh her memory, he related to her all the Circumstances of that interview; and a great part of the things he believed he had said to her. But the Princess still persisting to affirm, that she remembered no such thing, she asked about what time it was; and the Duke having  told her, she remembered that it was about that time when the Queen came to see her, and when she lay in the Castle; and calling to mind likewise, what her Confident had  told her upon that subject, in the discourses they had held together, she began to suspect the truth of all that Adventure, and to believe, that the Duke of Alançon might have been conducted into Queen Elizabeth's Chamber, either by a mistake or otherwise. The Duke for his part, considering afresh all that had past in that rencontre, the coldness of that Person to whom he had spoken, the Counsels she had given him, the tone of her voice, and a thousand other things that then presented themselves to his mind, he plainly perceived, that he had been betrayed. O God( cried he out) how dearly will this discovery cost me! and what cause shall I have to wish that I had remained eternally in the error wherein I was?  
Afterwards proceeding to make reflections on the Princess's enlargement, on the false marks of Friendship which Elizabeth had given her, on the dark words which he had heard her say, and which had escaped her dissimulation; he clearly saw, that Marianna's suspicions were but too just; but that which afflicted him most, was the thought, that if this unhappy Princess chanced to die, he should be in some sort the cause of her destruction, and that he himself should have armed the Queen's cruelty against her; this refl●ction made him almost despair. Ah, Madam( cried he out once more with a voice that plainly shew'd the excess of his sorrow) what is it I see? and what horrid misfortune do you make me look upon? Then his eyes having met the Princess's, he observed, in the midst of their languishing, I know not what of tenderness, confounded with the Symptoms of approaching Death. That sight had completed his confusion, if the Queen's arrival, who in that moment entred, had not restored him to all his strength, by rousing up his anger. That cruel Woman came to feed her self with the pleasure of her Revenge, upon pretence of inquiring after the Princess's health. It was a severe addition of sorrow to these two Lovers, to see themselves obliged still to counterfeit in the condition wherein they were. The Duke of Alançon's heart was already too much rent with the agitation of love and sorrow, without the accession of hate and anger, that came to augment his trouble; there wanted little of his breaking out that very moment against the Queen; but a little remainder of hope obliging him to restrain himself, and not being able otherwise to sustain the shock of those violent passions, wherewith he was moved, he went away for some time from Marianna's Bed, and left Elizabeth alone with her. The Princess turned her head to the other side, as soon as she perceived her; and when the Queen asked her how she did, she gave her no answer. I pray you( said Elizabeth again) tell me how you find yourself? I entreat you, Madam( said the Princess at last) that you would let me die in repose, and that you would grant me at least in these my last minutes, what you have denied me during my life. She raves without doubt, said the Queen in quitting her, and approaching some of her Maids, who in the Affliction wherein they were, could not endure her presence without incredible pain.  
The Duke of Alançon was in the mean time leaning upon a Window, that looked into the Court of the Palace, as well to hid the tears that rolled down from his eyes, as to have a pretence of not speaking to the Queen, whom he cared not for seei●● in the condition wherein he 〈◇〉, He remained in that postu●●●●til the Physicians who were sent for were arrived. He again approached Marianna's Bed along with them, and expected their opinion with a trouble and agitation impossible to be represented. But alas! his fears did not last long, and he soon saw himself in that unhappy state wherein fear is laid aside, because there is no longer room left for hope. Marianna was again relapsed into a Lethargy more dangerous than the first, and the poison either accomplishing its work, or those the Queens Physicians serving for new Ministers of her cruelty, this fair Princess expired in a moment after between their hands. The Duke of Alançon was so besides himself, that he perceived her not to breath her last, and she was already dead while he made a thousand vows for her safety. But the poor Meneville having made a great outcry at that moment, which was immediately followed by an infinite number of others; the Duke of Alançon was not long e're he knew of his misfortune: it would be in vain to endeavour to represent the princes despair. Violent sorrows are hardly felt, much less can they be expressed. To love one desperately, to understand that he is beloved again, and to see her die at the same time for a fault, which he thinks himself the cause of, is without doubt the most severe torment whereof a man can be capable; and such it was, which the Duke of Alançon received in the Princess Marianna's death. He remained for some time at her Beds-feet with his eyes fixed upon her countenance, which death had not at all disfigured, and while the Chamber resounded with cries and groans, he alone appeared unsensible, through an excess of sensibility. But at length the violence of his grief breaking out all on a sudden, and opening a passage for sighs and tears: She is dead( cried he out) and I still live! Oh Heaven! either restore me Marianna, or take away my life. The princes passion having been unknown almost to all, that unexpected transport did so much amaze all those who were Witnesses of it, that their lamentations ceased for some time. But their surprise was much greater, when he beginning again to speak, and turning towards Elizabeth with a furious action, said to her, Finish, cruel Elizabeth, finish what thou hast begun, and put to death what is left of that fair Princess, by depriving me of life.  
The Queen had hitherto continued sitting on a Chair, which was by the Princess's Bed-side, with all the signs of a person really afflicted: Her eyes were all bedewed with tears, whilst her heart was bathed in joy, and if any thing did testify her affliction to be counterfeit, it was the excess of it. This dissimulation served her as a pretence for another; for pretending not to have heard what the Duke  told her, she redoubled her cries instead of answering his transport. The Prince who had no reason now to restrain himself, could no longer endure so vexatious a Comedy. Is it, Madam, because you are not satisfied( said he, approaching her) that you weep, and do you still want some other Victim? It shall not be my fault, that your cruelty be not satisfied, and if your tears demand blood, I resign unto you with pleasure a life, which you have found the means to render a hundred thousand times more grievous to me than death.  
Insult not over a miserable Woman( said Elizabeth, carrying on her dissimulation to the utmost) and if you seek only a pretence to break with me—  
You have long since( interrupted the Duke) delivered me out of that pain; and it is the only favour I could have expected from you, after having known you. Go on, Madam( pursued he all in a rage and fury) enjoy in peace a Crown usurped. I do not envy you the fruit of your treachery, and perfidiousness. The Princess was she whom I held dearest in the World, nay more, I loved her as much as I hate you. You have robbed me of her. There would be nothing but the desire of revenge, that could stay me in England; but I must have re●●●●s● to ways less infamous than yours, and your example shall never instruct me in 〈◇〉 of Poison and Treason.  
H● 〈…〉 out of the Chamber at t● 〈…〉 ●●eses words, without 〈◇〉 〈◇ time to answer him● 〈…〉 was arrived at his own Lodging●, he sent for du Lac. The sight of a man, 〈◇〉 〈◇ whole secret of his heart, op●●●ng a fresh passage for his complaints, he cried out, She is dead, the fair Marianna is dead. He repeated these words several times, but in a way so sad, and so moving that Elizabeth her self would have been softened at it. This News surprised that Gentleman, as much as may be imagined, and he hardly believing it; 'Tis but too true( said the Duk●) I s●w her expire with my own ●y●s, and grief has not yet wrought in me, ●●e s●me effect as the poison which took 〈◇〉 her life. Then he remained sil●●● for some time, but beginning again in a moment after, he cried out, Cruel Elizabeth, why hast thou not involved me in this misfortune? would it have cost thee more to destroy me along with her, than to destroy her alone? It was against me that thy fury ought to have broken out. I alone was criminal, if to hate thee be a crime. But without doubt thou wert too much enraged agoinst me, to take away together with my life, the sense of so grievous a loss. Thou hast not suffered me to live, but to make the pleasure of thy revenge last the longer; and then stoping for a while, 'Twas very just( said he again) that I should remain in the World, to mourn for her; there is none in Elizabeth's Court, who dares to pay that dismal duty to her memory. I must live to revenge and mourn for her: Marianna should be no longer loved nor regretted without me. Elizabeth would be no longer hated, as much as she deserves, and her cruelty would remain unpunished.  
He lamented thus a great while, and du Lac, who was no less afflicted than himself, durst not interrupt him, either because he plainly perceived it would be in vain, or because he was apprehensive of sharpening his Affliction. At last, after he had kept silence for some time, he cried out as if he had come to some sudden Resolution. But what probability is there of living, after having lost the only person who could make me love life? let me rather seek in the dangers of War the death which Elizabeth refuses me, or a Revenge that is not found in Lamentations. Marianna is dead; since she is no longer in the World, all places of the Earth are indifferent to me. The presence only of Elizabeth is unsupportable, let us then fly that Monster's sight: or rather let us search for her, to wash in her blood the blackest Treason that ever was committed.  
He did indeed depart that very day, together with du Lac, who did endeavour all he could to comfort him upon the way, without any success. His complaints never ceased, but to give a freer cause to his tears; and when they were quiter drained, he fell into so profound a Melancholy, that the Ladies of the French Court, who had seen him so gallant before his Voyage, could not be without extreme amazement at so extraordinary an alteration.  
Some time after his return, he received some Letters, by which the Revolted of the Netherlands did earnestly solicit him to come, and put himself again at their head. He, who hoped to find in the Revolutions of that War, some overtures for the revenge he was in contemplation of, made no difficulty to satisfy the desires of those People; and without doubt, this young princes valour would not have been less fatal to the Spaniards at this time than at the other, if he had been in a condition to fight hearty against any other enemies than Elizabeth. He did his utmost endeavours in the Conferences he held with the Principal Lords of the Country, to animate them against her, but they not having the same reasons to hate her as himself, would not take up his resentments: the vexation he conceived at it increased his melancholy, and at last being not able to resist so many different causes of affliction, he fell dangerously ill at Château Thierri, and soon after died in the flower of his Age, esteemed and lamented by all the World, Elizabeth alone excepted, who was very glad to see her self delivered of so formidable an Enemy▪  
FINIS.