THE NOVELS OF Dom Francisco de Quevedo Villegas, Knight of the Order of St. James.  
Faithfully Englished.  
Where unto is added, The Marriage of Belphegor, An ITALIAN Novel.  
Translated from Machiavelli.  
LONDON, Printed for John Starkey, at the Mitre in Fleetstreet, near Temple-bar, 1671.   

The Preface.  
THe end of most Prefaces, being to beg submissively the favour and attention of a Reader, who is most commonly inexorable, had put me so out of love with them, that I was resolved to make none for my Spaniard, whose Nation or Wit seldom use to go a begging: But the Bookseller not well pleased that his Book should want a leaf in the beginning, which others have, is very earnest to have me say something of one, whose Name speaks enough for himself: Quevedo, Reader, is my Author, and his pleasant Visions, which have of late so diverted you, were the productions of the same brain as these Novels: 'Tis true, there will be one advantage wanting to them, and that is, that they have not met with one that could dress them so well in the English habit, as the Visions did: But truly, in that besides their misfortune, you must blame the sullenness of the Spaniard, who had so affected an humour this time, as not to be persuaded to change his Scene, or lay aside his Native customs. It would have been easy to have changed the Prado into Saint James' Park; but then what should we have done with the Guittar, which is so absolutely unseparable from a Spaniards courtship in the Night? the customs of hot Countries being much to give occasion to Night-Adventures. It would have been somewhat uncouth, to have brought him to walk the Streets of London, where he would see no body but a few Wenches, and the Constable with his Watch, ready to spoil all at every turning. This I thought fit to say as well for the Author, as for the Translator, but most of all for the Bookseller; For I believe the Reader will find more satisfaction, and a greater Apology for the faults; if any, in the reading of the Book, than of the Preface. Adieu.   

A Catalogue of Books Printed this year 1670. for John Starkey Bookseller, at the Mitre in Fleetstreet near Temple-Bar.  
THe Jesuits Morals, collected by a Doctor of the College of Sorbon in Paris, who hath faithfully extracted them out of the Jesuits own Books which are printed by the permission and approbation of the Superiors of their Society. Written in French, and exactly translated into English, Folio, price bound 12 s.  
Basilica Chymica & Praxis Chymiatrice, or Royal and Practical Chemistry, in three Treatises; being a Translation of Oswald Crollius his Royal Chemistry; augmented an enlarged by John Hartman. To which is added his Treatise of Signatures of internal things, or a true and lively Anatomy of the greater and lesser World. As also the Practice of Chemistry of John Hartman, M. D. augmented and enlarged by his Son, with considerable Additions; all faithfully Englished by a Lover of Chemistry, in Folio, price bound 10 s.  
A Relation of three Embassies, from his Majesty Charles the Second, to the Great Duke of Muscovy, the King of Sweden, and the King of Denmark, performed by the Right Honourable the Earl of Carliste, in the years 1663. and 1664. Written by an Attendant on the Embassies, in Octavo, price bound 4 s.  
A Relation of the Siege of Candia, from the first Expedition of the French Forces, to its Surrender the 27th. of September 1669. Written in French by a Gentleman who was a Volunteer in that Service, and faithfully Englished. In Octavo, price bound 1 s.  
The Present State of the United Provinces of the Low Countries, as to the Government, Laws, Forces, Riches, Manners, Customs, Revenue, and Territory of the Dutch. Collected out of divers Authors by W. A. Fellow of the Royal Society. In Twelves, price bound 2 s. 6 d. the second Edition.  
Accidence Commenced Grammar, and supplied with sufficient Rules; or a new and easy Method for the learning the Latin Tongue. The Author John Milton. In Twelves, price bound 8 d.  
A Relation of the Coasts of afric called Guinnee, with a Description of the Countries, Manners, and Customs of the Inhabitants; of the Productions of the Earth, and the Merchandise and Commodities it affords, with some Historical Observations on the Coasts, being collected in a Voyage made by the Sieur Villault Escuyer Sieur de Bellefond in the years 1666. and 1667. faithfully Englished. In Twelves, price bound 1 s. 6 d. the second Edition.  
A Guide for Constables, Churchwardens, Overseers of the Poor, Surveyors of the Highways, Treasurers of the County-stock, Masters of the House of Correction, Bailiffs of Manors, Toll-takers in Fairs, etc. showing the extent and power of the several Offices; Collected by George Meriton, price bound 1 s. 6 d. the second Edition, with additions.  
A Relation of the French Kings late Expedition into the Spanish Netherlands, in the years 1667. and 1668. with an Introduction discoursing his Title thereunto, and an Account of the Peace between the two Crowns, made May 2. 1668. Englished by G. H. In Twelves, price bound 1 s.  
The Voyage of Italy, or a Complete Journey through Italy; in two parts: with the Characters of the People, and the Description of the chief Towns, Churches, Palaces, Villas, Gardens, Pictures, Statues, Antiquities; as also of the Interest, Government, Riches, Force, etc. of all the Princes, with instructions concerning Travel. By Richard Lassels Gent. who traveled through Italy five times as Tutor to several of the English Nobility: O●us Posthumum. Corrected and set forth by his old Friend and Fellow-traveller S. W. Never before extant. In Twelves, price bound 4 s.  
The present State of France, containing the Orders, Dignities and Charges of that Kingdom: Newly corrected and put into a better method than formerly: written in French, and faithfully Englished, in twelves, price bound 2 s. 6 d.  
Paradise Regained: A Poem in Four Books, to which is added, Samson Agonistes, a Dramatic Poem; the Author John Milton. In Octavo, price bound 2 s. 6 d.  
The Golden Calf, in which is handled the most rare and incomparable Wonder of Nature, in transmuting Metals, viz. how the entire substance of Lead was in one moment transmuted into Gold obrizon, with an exceeding small particle of the true Philosophic Stone, at the Hague in the year 1666. Written in Latin by John Frederic Helvetius, Doctor and Practitioner at the Hague. Faithfully Englished. In Twelves, price bound 1 s.   

THE NOVELS OF Dom Francisco de Quevedo, The Night-Adventurer.  
IT will be needless in the beginning of this Work, to use an Invocation of Apollo; for since we do describe the actions of one, who was at feud with those beams of light, which make the happiness of other Mortals, if we did require the assistance of any of the Divinities of the Fabels, it would rather be that of Diana, whose pale rays preside over the gloomy dark shades of the Night. But leaving there the Stars, we must make our addresses to something more black than those Clouds, through which their influences are still preceptible, and I think Ink is the best thing we can hit upon; for indeed can there be any thing from which we may expect a more favourable assistance, since its deep black is the very belov'd Liveries of our Adventurer? 'Tis true, Paper will have some reason to complain, to see its whiteness soiled, and its evenness disfigured with so many different Characters, but I must desire it to put up this injury among the many others, which it patiently endures every day, from the an infinity of scribbling Authors, whose temerity and ignorance are eternally prompting them to affront it. Hail than thou black Dye, by whose means Mortals renown and fame is both illustrated and blurred; help us to describe the actions of a tenebrious Knight, the wanderer of Churchyards, the comrade of Bats and Owls; but let us not be too nice in our stile, for its Truth from which we intent to borrow our Ornaments.  
Talavera a considerable City in the Kingdom of Toledo, and situated upon the banks of the golden Tagus, was the place where our Heros first saw light; he was of a noble Family, which had no blemish either in its Honour or Religion: In his first Infancy, his house became a Scene of sorrow, for his Father being engaged in a duel, died gallantly, and left his Son an ample inheritance of fame and honour; his Mother surpassing all the Widows, who now a days cannot afford to stay till their mourning be over, till they engage in new amours, prevented even the news of her Widowhood by a second Marriage.  
Our Cavalier was the youngest of three Brothers, and by consequent designed for the Church; his name at first was only Don Diego, but in time by his conduct he acquired the Surname of Lucifugne, or enemy of the Light. The Church who takes care of her Children was so fond of him, that she nourished him from his tender years, with the sweet milk of divers rich Benefices, which from time to time were conferred on him, whereof some requiring his residing at Toledo, made that a necessity in him, which else would have been a choice. For it is one of the deliciousest places in the World; but whether it were that he was soon glutted with the abundant pleasures of the place, or that the obligation of their tasting them took away the greatest part of their relish; he stayed not long there, but having attained the 20th. year of his age, he disposed of his Benefices into other people's hands, still reserving to himself considerable pensions upon them; with the aid of which, and of his own Patrimony, he made up a Revenue of 6 or 700 pound a year: Thus provided against Fortune, and full fraught with the expectation of that variety which young people's vagabond inclinations do most run after, he came to Madrid, the chief City of Spain, and the ordinary residence of the King and Court. There he seated himself in that part of the Town, which was most suitable to his capricious humour, which was that which was least frequented, and in a by-Street where few people did come. The house he bought was pretty large, and so capable of being divided into two parts, with all necessary apartments to each; the one he reserved for himself, and the other for his friends; which last he furnished very neatly and modishly; as for his own, he ordered it according to his extravagant humour. First, he took down all the upper stories, as being useless to one who was resolved to keep as much under ground and in the dark as it was possible. Secondly, he caused all the Windows to be stopped up, not leaving the least cranny for the Sunbeams to peep through; then he hung all the Walls of it with black; in a word, 'twas rather a sepulchre for the Dead, than a habitation of the Living. He was most passionate for the art of Music, taking a singular delight in playing upon his Guittar, and singing to it; and in this he was so great a Master, that there were but very few that could compare with him; and indeed his excellence in this Art, and Poetry, made up the greatest part of his ambition; for he was very well pleased with his own condition, not at all moved at other people's vanity or preferments; and so far from courting fortune to an increase of his, that all his design was only to enjoy himself and his friends in his own singular way; he seldom or never stirred out in the day time, giving all that to Music and sleep; as soon as it was dark, and that there was no distinguishing of objects, than did he set out for a walk, which he always performed without any other company or protection than that of his Sword, a Rondach or Buckler, and his Guittar, and in this Equipage walking all night, he met with great variety of Adventures, some good, some bad, but still ending gloriously and to his Honour. If it please you, Reader, to surcease your other occupations, which it may be are as idle as the relation of his Adventures will be, I will recite some of them to you, and do promise before hand, that they shall be both diverting and profitable.  

Adventure the first.  
IN the middle of the Winter, and of the month of January, a season in which the Nights are a great deal longer than the Days, and so cold, that the most fiery completions are ready to freeze if they chance to be abroad: Don Diego being weary of sitting at home all alone, resolved about eleven of the Clock at Night to take a turn in the Streets of Madrid; he took his Guittar, and in his way playing some Sarabands, and sometimes singing to it, had gone through a great many Lanes and By-places, when at last being come to a very solitary quarter of the Town, he stopped a little to consider where he was, and looking up heard a Casement open, and a Voice call him with the inviting noise of ist, ist: He whose heart was always inclined to new discoveries in Nocturn Adventures, drew near and heard a whispering Voice say these Words: If it be you that left this place last Night, with so many marks of an entire satisfaction, why come you again to Night so late? Don Diego was a little surprised at so pleasant a question; but immediately recollecting himself, answered; 'Tis I, I am the same Man, open the door; as soon as he had spoke, the door was opened, and he heard some body bid him tread very softly; he obeys, and following a person that led him by the hand, did begin already to thank his genius, for prompting him to the quick acceptance of the good fortune which he thought attended him within. After he had passed two or three Doors, and as many Entries, he came at last into a Room, at the entrance of which, instead of the amorous Embraces which he expected, he found himself seized by three or four strong Men, borne down to the ground, and disarmed; The place where he was, was a Parlour; on the table were two lights, and at the further end of the Room he perceived an old Man, of a venerable aspect, sitting in a Chair, who rising up as he drew near, (led by his Jailers) broke forth into these words, which he proffered with a hoarse Voice and a threatening Countenance. Why, said he, (speaking to those that held him) have you brought him alive into my presence, and why did not you Strangle him without? Then, looking upon the Prisoner; Barbarous wretch, said he, for I cannot believe thou were't ever issued of that noble Blood which thy Ancestors have owned; What had my weak old age offended thee in, that thou couldst not let my reputation live, but must needs ravish my Honour upon the brink of my Graved? Infamous Cheat, couldst thou choose no other way of being wicked to a dying Man, than in killing that Honour which alone ought to be Immortal? Go, thy sensual pleasure has done me that wrong, which the loss of thy Life cannot repair, and thy Death will rather be an Example to other perfidious Traitors, than a reparation to me; away then, dispatch him, cut his Throat, and pull out that deceiving Heart of his: No, stay, first call that mad and unfortunate Creature, that we may make a Marriage and a Burial of them both at the same time.  
Just as the old Man made an end of these words, a young Lady of incomparable Beauty, though much dejected and with tears in her Eyes, came into the Room; the sight of her, and of those unexpressible Charms which were her inseparable separable Companions, did begin to deface the image of Death, which had already taken possession of Don Diego's countenance, and to place some signs of joy and admiration in its room; when the Lady much more surprised to find a Stranger, and an unknown Gentleman, in the hands of her Brothers and Father, could not choose but blush so extraordinarily, that though it added a new lustre to her Beauty, yet did it not a little puzzle her Relations, who expected a more steady conduct from her. Let us leave him a little in this perplexity, to ease the Reader of his, and tell him whence it proceeded.  
A Gentleman whose name was Don Frederick, who by all the advantages of Nature, Fortune, and Education, might justly challenge the title of very Accomplished, had been long in love with Fenicia, the Lady whom we have described; she on her side, though her Beauty did every day add some new conquest to her Empire, thought none worth owning and requiting but the happy Don Frederick's addresses.  
Their intrigue was carried so closely, that their Parents of neither side were ware of it, and though Finicia's Father and Mother were very diligent in watching their Daughter's actions, yet they found it impossible at last to preserve a thing, which the owner itself endeavours every moment to lose; so that after a long perseverance, and the specious show of an immoderate passion, Don Frederick obtained under a verbal promise of Marriage, those favours which should have followed that sacred Union. As soon as Fenicia had thus put her Lover in possession of that which was most precious to her, and that by the richness of those hidden Treasures, he had been repaid all the expense of tears and sighs which he had been at, he let her see to her infinite grief, that he should henceforth despise her as impoverished and plundered of her virtue. She soon perceived her error by his coldness ere they parted, but his impatience to be gone not giving her time enough to reflect entirely upon her fault, she only sealed his depart with a few Kisses, and desired him to come again to her at the same hour the following Night. In the mean time, considering with confusion the greatness of her fault, and the probability of Don Frederick's inconstancy, she saw no other remedy against that sea of miseries ready to break in upon her, than by opposing to them the authority of her Father and Brothers: It was with much ado that she brought herself to this resolution; and with more terror that she executed it.  
Upon this declaration the Father and Brothers were struck with amazement, and inflamed with revenge; they knew the quality of Don Frederick, but had never seen his person; therefore seeing there was no other remedy, they projected to execute upon Don Frederick the following Night, all that which poor Don Diego in his room had already undergone, having been drawn in by his own curiosity, and Fenicia's inviting Voice; their design was to fright him into an accomplishment of his word, or to wash away the stain of their reputation with his blood; but to the end that he might not for ever after make their Sister an object of sorrow, by a cruel return of hard usage, they resolved that she should feign, that she had revealed nothing of their secret Loves, and should in order of rescuing him from their hands, affirm that they were mistaken in the person, and that it was not he who had abused her credulity.  
But Fenicia seeing their real mistake, was forced to lay aside her designed artifices, and use sincerity; Brothers, said she, you are in an error, this Gentleman whom ye have thus ill treated, is not the Traitor Don Frederick: Oh Heavens! how great is my misfortune, first to forget myself so far, then unluckily to have my shame, and that of my family, published before a Stranger! Her Brothers seemed to be amazed at her words, but still taking them for counterfeit, could not choose but say to one another, look how rarely she dissembles, would not one swear she said true? She perceiving the double error they were in, was forced to have recourse to Oaths and Protestations, to free them from it, in so much that at last she brought them to look with amazement upon one another, not knowing how to unriddle this mysterious intrigue. Don Diego on the other side did confirm all Fenicia's words, by telling of them his name, his quality, his profession of a Churchman, incapable by consequent of Marriage. The old Man at last perceiving the mistake they were in, fell into a great passion against his Daughter, as being the cause of all these unfortunate accidents, by her lewd prostitution: Upon that Don Diego began to be a little at ease, hoping that now he should be released; but Fortune, who had resolved to try his Courage, assaulted him afresh, with the prospect of a more desperate danger. For Fenicia's Brothers angry at their error, and perplexed to see the repute of their Family fallen into the hands and discretion of a Stranger, whom they had offended and ill treated, went aside a little to think of a remedy in so great a distraction; and after a short deliberation, it was resolved by them to lead him out of their House, and in some by-place while it was yet dark, dispatch him, for fear he should reveal their infamy. In the mean time Lucifugne said nothing, hoping still that if he could once get out of that cursed house, either his feet or his hands should protect him. Their design thus resolved upon, was communicated before execution to their old Father; but he being generous, and an enemy of bloody actions, rose up, and coming to Don Diego with a cheerful countenance, Sir, said he, I have a greater confidence in your discretion, than my Children have in the security of your death; I only desire you to have compassion of an honourable Family, whose shame has been laid open to you, and pray let our infamy be buried in the secret and silence of your generous Courage. This said, he presented him with his Sword again, restoring also his Guittar, then waiting upon him to the Street-door, offered to have him escorded wheresoever he pleased: Don Diego having thanked him, and reiterated his protestations of an eternal silence, as to what he had seen and heard, took his leaves; as soon as he was in the Street, and saw himself free from so imminent a danger, he made a thousand vows and resolutions against all idle curiosities, all which he broke as easily as he made them. Having gone a part of his way home, and finding a great emotion in his spirits from the fright he had been in, he resolved to settle them by the Art of Music; therefore taking his Guittar, he played and sung to it.  
Just as he made an end of his Song, he found himself to be near his Lodging, and as he was going to open his door, a Person who had dogged him all the way from Fenicia's house, steps between him and it, and bids him stand; Don Diego a little surprised, guessed immediately that it might be one of her Brothers, who violating his Father's Commands, was come to seek his revenge, or rather the assurance of his silence in his death; thereupon he goes back a little, and taking his Sword in his hand, though still in his scabbard, comes up to him again to know his design; the Stranger without further delay, draws, and with some injurious words, provoking Don Diego to the like, was answered with as sharp effects; for Diego after a little while, being very skilful at his Weapon, made two such home-thrusts upon the Stranger, that he fell, crying out, that he was a dead Man; after which he lay speechless. Lucifugne who was as generous as valiant, having raised his Servants and got some Light, came to him, and finding by his adversaries rich apparel, that he was a person of quality, had him taken up, and carried into that apartment which he always reserved for his Friends; there by the care that was taken of him, he came to himself, and permitted his Wounds to be dressed; after which he told Don Diego, that his Name was Don Frederick, the same that had triumphed over the innocent affections of Fenicia; that having been hindered by an important affair, from keeping exactly to the hour, appointed by her the Night before, he did come to the door just as Don Diego was let out; that the singularity of the Adventure having moved his curtosity to know who it was, that did already share with him in those joys of which he thought himself the only possessor, had prompted him to follow him to his Lodging, and that ' there his impatient jealousy had forced him to attaque him. Don Lucifugne having heard him out, very generously and frankly praised his courage and resolution, but withal desiring to clear all his suspicions of Fenicia's chastity, related to him all his Adventure, and at the same time took an occasion to press home to him the greatness of the indignity he had offered an innocent Maid, who was only betrayed by the Love she bore him; entreating him by the principles of Honour, which he professed as a Gentleman, and those of Conscience, which he owned as a Christian, and which in his present condition ought to be most prevalent, that he would do the injured Lady right, and free her desolate Relations from the opprobrious reflection of their Daughter's infamy. Don Frederick was moved by his reasons, and his own Conscience, and sending for a Priest, declared in his presence and before all the Company, that he would accomplish his prormises of Marriage to Fenicia, as soon as by his recovery he should be in a condition to do it.  
His just Vow was received and approved of in Heaven, and from that very moment his wounds began to mend; so in a few days, he was in a condition requisite for the accomplishment of his design; to this end, he entreated: Don Diego, with whom he had contracted a most intimate friendship, to go and visit Fenicia from him, and to give her these new assurances of his fidelity; entreating him withal, not to speak of their Combat, for fear frighting her: She all this while, poor Lady, was infinitely afflicted, not hearing any news at all of Don Frederick, in so much that the grief of her mind, prevailing upon her body, had brought her to keep her bed in a most languishing condition. In the mean time, her four Brothers raging for the affront put upon their Family, and having in vain sought the Author of it in Madrid, thought he had absented himself, and thereupon dividing, every one had took a different way to find him out, and take a bloody vengeance of this Murderer of their Sister's Honour.  
One day as Fenicia and her desolate Father were talking of their misfortunes, which they did begin to think beyond a remedy, Don Diego came in to visit them; we need not ask if they were surprised at his sight, being not able to guests at the occasion of his coming to them; but Lucifugne unwilling to keep them long in expectation of such joyful tidings, gave them so many assurances of the truth of what he said, that Fenicia and her Father were like to have found their joy as fatal to them as their grief, so great was the transport they were in; they received Diego like an Angel from Heaven giving him a thousand thanks for his generous proceeding towards them; Fenicia soon recovered her decayed Beauty, and her Lover being perfectly cured, came himself with Don Diego to confirm the reality of his intentions; there now remained nothing to complete their joy, but the presence of the four Brothers; messengers were dispatched to them on all hands, who having luckily found them out, made them haste to see the happiness of their Family: Don Fredericks Friends were all invited to the Wedding, which was kept with great Solemnity, and amongst all the Assembly, Don Diego Lucifugne was the Person most respected and Honourable, as having been the main instrument of bringing all the intrigue to end in so happy a success.   

Adventure the second.  
THe memory of these past accidents, might have been the Subject of a very profitable Meditation for Don Diego, if he had pleased; but it being a very hard matter to regulate the inordinate motions of a wild Nature, by any consideration whatsoever, that of so imminent a danger avoided was not powerful enough to make him refrain from is extravagant Night-Exercises. He had with him a Friend, whose name was Almenzor, one who had loved him from his tender years, for the vivacity of his Wit, and the generousness of his Courage, but who was much against the irregular course of his life, and could not but with grief see those seeds of virtue choked in debauchery, which else would have boar such fair fruit of true Honour: He had often endeavoured by his persuasions to reduce this rebellious Nature, to submit to the Laws of prudence and moderation, and now thinking this a very fair opportunity to strike the nail home to the head, he came to him, and very seriously harangued him in this manner.  
I should never have thought, Sir, that you could have been so unjust to me, and so cruel to yourself, as to my great grief I now find you are: Must all the years and pains which I have spent in endeavouring to polish your mind, and elevate your Soul, be not only lost, but rewarded with that shame and reproach which cannot but reflect upon me, from the perversity of your conversation? And must I, that always reckoned to reap in the applause given to your virtues, the recompense of my pains, be now frustrated of all my designs? Sure you cannot be so ill natured, or if my interest alone cannot move you, add your own to the balance, and see if it will not then weigh down all the fondness of youthly pleasures: are you that have so much wit, not endowed with judgement enough to distinguish between the lightness of your Comrades applause, and the solid value of the graver sort of Men? But setting all that aside, is not the health of your Body, the welfare of your Soul, nay your Life itself endangered every moment in these bizarr sallies, which you make continually in the dark? you have but lately escaped a most prodigious danger, and yet cannot this prevail with you to forbear a course of Life, which must certainly be very fatal both to your Life and Honour, one of these Nights; What I say, Seignor Don Diego, is out of pure affection to you, and to show you the little self-love I am guided by; I have hitherto enjoyed the benefit of your Fortune, but if I should continue so to do, I should think myself little less than accessary to your Misfortunes; I will therefore by your leave retire, and rather feed upon the Bread of labour and industry, than that of sorrow, which I must expect if I stay with you. These words of Almanzor, were accompanied with a like action, for steping towards the door, he made as if he would have gone away; but Don Diego getting hold of him, entreated him not to forsake him, promising to endeavour an amendment; and to begin, he pulled off his Sword, and laid it by, and for two whole days lived a very regular life, that is, making ufe of the Night and the Day according to their Natural institution: But his inclination being all this while violented, upon the third Evening he began to detest Almanzor's severity, and calling him pedantic Tyrant of his Natural liberty, was resolved to shake off the Fetters of his imperious Counsels; when he heard the noise of a Coach in the Street, it being a by-place, was seldom troubled with this sort of noise, which made Don Diego the more attentive to its motions: It stopped a little short of his Window, and presently a Voice, which seemed to be that of a Woman, Sung divinely well to a Lute, which she touched as harmoniously; but the sweetness of her Music, could not abate the sharpness of her Song, which was so satirical and biting upon a Lady of pleasure that lived hard by the House, and as it were under the protection of our Adventurer, that he had scarce the patience to hear it out; He got on his Doublet and Breeches, and taking his Sword in his hand, run down as fast as he could; the Coach was gone before he came into the Street, and all that he could do, was by following it at a distance, to observe the House it went into.  
But to avoid confusion, let us give these Ladies their Names, and relate their Adventure. She whom Don Diego protected, was called Carcelia, and the other who had thus provoked her, went by the name of Faustina, both of quality and life so like, that the praise and dispraise of the one, might without injury be adopted to the other: whereupon Don Diego having got a copy of those verses, transposed their names, and found that the attributes did still suit; wherefore he first resolved to have them sung over again at Faustinaes' Window; but that being but a simple retaliation, he accompanied it with the interludes of a new invention, which was thus contrived and executed.  
Don Diego invited to Supper one Night, five or six of the wildest young Men of his acquaintance, and having in the middle of their Mirth, laid open to them his resolution of being revenged upon Faustina, asked their opinion: They all answered to the affirmative, and one proposing one thing, another another, at last these Articles were resolved upon.  

1. That there should be a Serenade given, with all sorts of ridiculous Instruments, viz. two Sowgelder's Horns, two broken Bells, two guitars, and two Viols out of Tune, and four Kettles of a different bigness.  
2. That there should be composed a Dialogue in Verse, to be recited by two young Men of the company, whereof one should represent Faustina, and the other Popaa her Sister; that the Subject of the Dialogue should be some quarrelling expostulations between the two Sisters, which should divulge the infamy of their life and profession.  
3. That Don Diego should prepare a kind of triumphal Chariot, which should be attended with a good number of lighted Torches, and that the said Chariot should be the Stage of their action; that it should stop just before Faustinaes' Window, which should be opened by force, if she did not do it voluntarily.   
This being resolved nemine contradicente, the best Poet was charged with the composing of the Dialogue; and when it came to be learned by Heart, there were a great many meeting Dinners, Suppers, Collations at Don Diego's, to encourage the Actors, and perfect them in their parts; and at last, the day before it was acted, Carcelia was invited to give her censure, and see what was to be added to, or taken away from this impudent piece of revenge. This last repetition having very much pleased all the company, it was decreed, that it should be acted for good and all the following Night, for fear lest it might take vent, and be countermined by the industry of the concerned parties, who could in a need muster good Auxiliaries among the young Gallants of the Town.  
Midnight being come, they set forth in great State from Don Diego's Lodgings, having in a readiness all the instruments for their most infernal Serenade, yet not touching on them till they should come to Faustinaes' Street, being resolved to wake no body, but those who should be so unlucky as to have so ill Neighbours as these two Sisters were: The Chariot beginning to move, in solemn dump, in the silence of the Night, and being environed round with Torches, its self filled with antic Persons, and followed by others in a Mascarade dress, might have been a spectacle worthy the loss of some sleep. It got at last, with much ado, being drawn by 8. Coursiers called Porters, to the entrance of Faustinaes' Street, where they had subject to think all their labour lost, for the passage was strongly barricadoed; the business was, that a person of very great Quality being fallen sick in it, had obtained leave of the Magistrate, to plant some posts across the Street, to hinder Coaches and Carts from passing and interrupting that little rest which his distemper would allow him to take. Don Lucifugne having called a Council, it was resolved not to go back, but to force through this obstacle: thereupon the posts were attaqu'd, and in a trice thrown down, every one having put to a helping hand; the breach being wide enough, the Machine entered, and being come under Faustinaes' Windows, first gave her a Salve of the Serenade, to prepare her attention to the rest; but this so Diabolick a noise, having put all the sick Lords house in an uproar, out came his Master of the Horse, to know what the matter was, and to desire them to be gone; Don Diego met him, and with good words having a little quieted him, promising to withdraw, as soon as he had turned his back, commanded the Dialogue to be begun; but by this time the Lords family had by his Command taken Arms, and the Coachmen, Grooms, Cooks, and Scullions, issued out with their respective Weapons, Pitch-forks, Spits, tongues, &c. and seeing that Chariot there still, came furiously on to overthrow it and the Actors; but on the other side, Don Diego and his Comrades, with Link-boys and Porters interposing, there began a fray, in which many a head was broke, as well as the Peace, on each side; and at last, after a pretty smart conflict, each party well satisfied with their banging, retired, carrying off their wounded Friends.  
Faustina and Popaea, who were come to their Windows, and had perceived that all this tintamarr was for them, had an exceeding joy to see it disappointed, with an addition of revenge upon the Actors which they could never have hoped for; but their transports were soon at an end, for the next day the Lord their Neighbour being informed, that they were the cause of these Night scandals, caused them to be banished Madrid: Some of the Combatants on each side were clapped up, and came off for small fines; Don Diego for his part, got clear of the Lords pursuit, by pleading his privilege of being judged by an Ecclesiastical Court, having also found favour in the Kings; for bating his Nocturn Extravagancies, he was a Man of most excellent Convensation, and very Witty Company.   

Adventure the third.  
Almanzor weary of Don Diego's extravagancies, and almost out of Charity with himself, for his indulgency in enduring them, seeing him at last delivered from the pursuit of the Law, and all its evil consequences, resolved also to free himself from all the terrors and fears he was continually in, for his Friend's safety: Whereupon he told Don Diego, that the greatest part of the blame of his inordinate life, lighting upon him, as one who had the greatest share in his education, he could do no less than let the World see by his retreat, that he did entirely descent from all vicious courses, and that not being able to hinder them, he was at least resolved not to countenance them any longer. Don Diego having heard him out, answered very fairly, that he was sorry things were come to that pitch, as to necessitate a Rupture between them, but that since his life was of so little conformity to his Friends inclinations, it was best for them both to separate: Almanzor was a little surprised to see himself taken at his word, for it was not his intention to withdraw; but did only hope by the severe reiteration of his admonitions, and demonstrations to leave Don Diego, so to perplex him, as either to better his own condition in staying, or make him resolve to live more regularly: but however, being thus answered, he thought he could do no less for his honour, than effectuate his parole, which accordingly he did, and retired into a private Lodging in the Town; but at the end of a few days, he found that his huffing, cost him pretty dear; for having never before had the experience of the trouble of living at his own charges, he soon began to compare it with the pleasure of living cost-free upon another's purse, and found a vast difference between those two things; but the value of things is never so well understood, as when the enjoyment of them is passed: being weary of the inconveniencies of his new life, he got some persons of Quality to interpose towards Don Diego, and to mediate his return to him; they found him well inclined, in regard of their ancient friendship; but to put an invincible obstacle to all future fall out, Don Diego fastened these Articles upon the favour of his re-admittance.  

1. That all authority of a Governor should be suppressed.  
2. That each of them should live according to his own fancy, taking no notice of one another's comportments.  
3. That for the better execution of this agreement, Almanzor should live in that apartment which Don Diego did use to keep for his Friends.   
This was accordingly executed, and Don Diego vexy well pleased to see, that he had at last shaken off the yoke of Almanzor's pedantic jurisdiction; the natural disposition which Don Diego had to play upon divers instruments, and sing to them, being followed with so great an excellency in that Art, that most Masters did admire him, made him very inquisitive after all that excelled that way; so that at last he came to hear of a young Lady, who was said to have attained so great a perfection in the same thing, that she was talked of by all Madrid for her skill, both in Composing, Playing, and Singing. This was a great incitement to our Adventurer to be acquainted with her; but her Beauty, which was more Charming, having at the first sight he had of her ' made deeper impressions in his Soul, he never gave over till he got an opportunity of seeing her at a Kinswomans' house; there he omitted no sort of Courtship to win her inclinations, but could not bring her to any greater condescendencies, than such civilities and modest favours as might have been granted to indifferent Persons.  
The Lady's Name was Sirena, and she was Married to a person of quality, but prodigiously jealous of her; a great journey which he had made towards the remotest parts of Spain, had given Don Diego all these opportunities of making his approaches, and it may be inspired the Lady too with more resistance, than the tyrannical conduct of a jealous Husband would have let her use at another time; for 'tis a most certain rule, that restraint in Ladies increases the desire of liberty, which once obtained or freely given, is more moderately made use of. The Husband being at last come home, and a greater restraint put upon Sirenas liberty, she gave Don Diego notice of it, desiring him to forbear to give any public signs of his passion, for fear her Husband should be alarmed by them; but withal, appointed him a Rendezvous the following Night, at the same Kinswomans' house, and that he should meet with a Person before the door, who should introduce: Don Diego received this Message with an unexpressible joy, hoping that now he had at last attained to the top of all his wishies, since Sirena upon her own movement, did take care of the continuation of their Amours: The hour came, he dressed himself to his best advantage, and carrying besides good Arms against all unlucky accidents, he set forth with an ardent desire not to be the last at the place of assignation. Being come to the House, he found no body walking there to attend him, whereupon supposing that his Amorous impatience might have made him be too diligent, he stayed in a shop hard by; after a delay of an hour, and just as he begun to lose patience, a Maid of Sirena's beckoned to him from the door, to go a little farther off from the House; She then following him, told him, that her Mistress was gone to take the Air with her Master, in some Garden about the Town, but that she would hardly stay above two hours, at the end of which he might return, and be sure to meet her: This disappointment, though very sensible, was a little sweetened by the hopes of having a greater liberty of enjoying Sirena, when she should be rid of her fond old Husband, to whose fresh arrival, he judged, she had been forced to sacrifice some of those moments, which she had designed for him. The better to divert his unquiet impatience, till the happy hour should come, he resolved to take a turn in the Prado of Madrid, the place where the Coaches take the Air; the evening being somewhat cold, and the Sky a little overcast, had driven the Coaches and all the Company away betimes; so that though it were not much past ten a clock when Don Diego came thither, he found as great a solitude in the Prado, as if it had been some remote Desert: he walked twice from one end to the other, entertaining at liberty the variety of his thoughts, till he thought it was almost time to go back to his assignation; but just as he was going out at one end, he heard not far off the moaning voice of a Woman, and easily distinguished these words; Is it possible, dear Husband, that so treacherous a design can come into your mind, as to resolve to kill one, who loves you so dearly? and have you brought me hither only to murder me so barbarously? Don Diego moved with compassion, went immediately towards the place whence the voice proceeded, desirous to deliver a Person brought to so great a distress: he had not gone twenty steps, but he found a Coach drawn by two Horses, close shut on one side, and open on the other; and a little further, he discerned a Man on foot, with his Sword drawn in his hand, and a Lady upon her knees before him. The Man hearing some body draw near, came towards Don Diego, and bid him stand; stand thyself, replied our Adventurer, and know that I come hither to punish thee, for thy bloody attempt upon that poor Lady's life, whose tears I see cannot soften thy hard and ignoble Breast. At this the other seeing himself offended in his honour, made no other reparty but with his Sword; Don Diego parred the thrust, and being very adroit, gave him two wounds, one upon the other, insomuch that he fell, crying, Jesus, I am dead: At this deadly cry the Lady fell into a swoon; Don Diego hastening to her, found her lying upon the ground without sense or motion; he presently took her in his arms, and having put her into the Coach, and fastened close the boot, he got up into the box, there being no Coachman, and drove strait to his own Lodging; he soon knocked up Almanzor, and making him come out without any light, for fear of making his Neighbour's spectators of what he desired to conceal, they two carried in the Lady, who was not yet come to herself: Then he told Almanzor succinctly, that she was a Lady that he did not know; that he had rescued her from a barbarous Husband, who was going to attempt upon her life; that he desired him to have a singular care of her, till he should return, being now forced to go out again upon urgent business: This said, he departed, and getting up again upon the Coach-box, he drove till he came before the Windows of a Churchman, who had a great reputation of Piety and Charity; him he called by his Name, and having obliged him to look out, told him▪ that the Coach he then was upon, was a stray Coach which he had met with in the Street, without any body to own or drive it; and that he thought it could not be disposed into better hands than his, whose Charity he knew would be solicitous to discover the right owner, and restore it to him: Thus said, he leapt off the box, and ran away as fast as he could: he took his way towards Sirenas house, much perplexed with himself, and concluding that he had let slip, the time of his assignation; but when he came near, he met the Maid, who told him that her Mistress was not yet come home; and that she believed that she and her Husband were gone to see her Mother, who was a very rich Widow, whom they both courted, as expecting to be well remembered in her Will; that if it were so, it would be in vain to expect haet home that Night: This long discourse cast some suspicious thoughts into Don Diego's breast, that the Maid was not so true to him as he could wish, taking all this story for an invented lie; whereupon desirous to be better informed, he resolved not to stir very far from Sirenaes' house, till towards Morning; he walked away a little, and having been absent about a quarter of an hour, came back, and was not a little astonished to see lights at almost all the windows, and to find Sirenaes' house full of Sergeants, and other Officers of Justice, with a great multitude of People; he draws near, and having enquired of some body what the matter was, was told, that Don Leander, Sirenaes' Husband, was brought home wounded, and that it was yet unknown how and by whom so unlucky an accident had befallen him; Don Diego upon this withdrew, judging well that if he should betaken notice of, as one that had courted Leander's Wife, and be found besides with; Fire-arms about him, he might be laid hold of upon suspicion, which would bring him into a great deal of trouble, though according to his own opinion, he thought himself far from having a hand in the matter.  
But now let us return to Sirena, whom we had left in Almanzor's hands; he having lighted a Candle, and poured some drops of a Cordial down the Lady's throat, had with much ado brought her to herself again: as soon as she opened her eyes, she was strangely surprised to find herself in an unknown place, in the power of a Stranger; but still supposing that he was the Man who had preserved her from being killed: Sir, said she, having already the obligation of my life to your valour, I cannot expect less than the preservation of my honour from your generosity, and therefore without informing yourself farther who I am, I desire you to cause me to be led to St. Jeroms Church door, and there to be left to my own liberty; alas, the Gentleman you killed was my Husband, and though he was even then preparing to make me breathe my last, yet can I not but be concerned at his misfortune, and bemoan my destiny, which could find no other way to deliver my innocency from his bloody attempt.  
The astonishment of Almanzor, was not inferior to the surprise of the fair Lady; but judging immediately that Don Diego was he who had killed her Husband, he thought fit by all means to conceal from her the Author of her misfortunes; and thereupon answering the Lady with great civility, told her, that her request should be granted, provided she would condescend to one of his, which was, to give him leave to blind her eyes with a handkerchief, and promise not to go about to unblind herself, till he should leave her to herself before St Jeroms Church.  
The Lady seeing herself at his mercy, was forced to rely upon his discretion, and give herself up to his conduct; immediately Almanzor made a Cupid of this Venus, and taking her by the hand, led her out of the House; at every step he made, he would look behind him, imagining still that the Officers of Justice were ready to seize upon him: In these apprehensions he came before St. Jeroms Convent, there taking leave of her, he ran away as fast as his legs would carry him, thinking himself very happy when once he had recovered Don Diego's house. The Lady perceiving herself at liberty, unblinded her eyes, and finding herself before St. Jeroms Convent, took her refuge in her Mother's house, which was hard by.  
Don Diego in the mean time came home, almost as soon as Almanzor, and finding him quite out of breath, and scare able to speak, by reason of his hasty course, he could not choose but ask him the cause of the great alteration he saw in him; the cause, answered Almanzor grumbling, is your inconsiderate and rash conduct, which brings all those which concern themselves for your Life and Honour, into eternal perplexities: Thereupon he told him all that had passed between himself and the Lady, and how he had conveyed her away with her eyes blinded, for fear she should know the place she had been in, and by consequent her Husband's murderer, whom she might, it may be, in a fit of vainglory, accuse before the Judges, to purchase the reputation of an Heroic courage, in loving her Husband so far, as to prosecute him for killing him, even one that had saved her own life.  
Don Diego could not choose but admire his Friend's prudence, in the carriage of this so ticklish a business, and gave him a thousand thanks, and as many embraces for his friendly proceeding; after this he related to him his love for Sirena, and how he had been disappointed of his assignation. Almanzor gave him prudent advice to desist from his passion, lest it might bring him into some inconveniency worse than any he had hitherto undergone; after this, it being almost day, they both retired and went to sleep.  
They had not rested above two hours, when they were both awakened by a very loud knocking at the Street door; at first, the desire they had to enjoy some repose, made them neglect the noise, but it redoubling, caused Don Diego at last to rise, thinking it might be some Officers who had made a discovery of the last Night's Adventures; but coming to the door, he found it was no body but a Boy, who presented him with a Letter from Sirena; the sound of that pleasing Name, infused tranquillity into his troubled Spirits: he made the Messenger come in, and opening his Letter, found it contained these words.  
The Letter of Sirena, to Don Diego.  
Done Leander my Husband, continually racked by his own jealous disposition, but afresh tormented by the perfidious tales of my disloyal waiting-Woman, did last Night plot a most horrid design against my life; he desired me to go out with him to take the Air, to which I having condescended, he told me there was a Coach stayed for us at the corner of the Street; he having so ordered it, that he might avoid taking with him some Ladies of the Neighbourhood, who would have expected that civility from him, if they had seen the Coach before our door; we fetched so great a compass in the Town, that it was very late when we came to the Prado, where we found no Body, the Company being all retired; he desired me to take one turn with him, and as soon as we were lighted, he told me he would give me the diversion of hearing one of his Friends Pages sing, and thereupon commanded the Coachman to go to such a place and fetch him▪ As soon as we were alone, Don Leander with a threatening voice, began to reproach me with all those imaginary injuries which he fancied I had done him, and without giving me any leisure or time to justify myself, pronounced the cruel sentence of my Death, of which he made himself both Judge and Executor: I seeing his bloody resolution, endeavoured by my tears and supplications to mollify his hard Heart; but all in vain, if Heaven, which protects innocency, had not raised me up a defensor; one who appeared before us of a sudden, and who with great valour in an instant overcame my perfidious Husband, and left him dead upon the place; his fall and deadly outcry, joined with the fright I was in before, so prevailed upon my Spirits, that they left me, and I fell into a swoon; as soon as I came to myself again, I sound myself in an unknown house, and in the hands of a stranger, one of a different profession from that of arms: I entreated him to convey me to the door of St. Jeroms Church, which he did, having first blinded me, without giving me any reason for his procedure; as soon as I was at the place I had desired, he left me, and vanished away so suddenly, that I could not discern which way he took. I first retired to my mothers, and from thence to a Religion's house, which this bearer will Name to you. I expect your Council and assistance, as being one who is much a Gentleman, and a Friend to the distressed  
Sirena.  
At every period of this Letter, Don Diego, and Almanzor who had likewise rise and was come to him, could not choose but look upon one another, and stand astonished like two statues, to see the singularity of the Adventure. Don Diego on his side was inconsolable, when he reflected, that he had had in his power the object of all his wishes, without being able to make use of so lucky an occasion; and did begin to detest Almanzor's timorous conduct, which had deprived him of the joys of his life. But those Chimerical reflections, were interrupted by the wiser consideration of Almanzor, who made it appear, that Sirenas staying with them, must needs have ended in some tragical event for them all; that therefore the frequentation of such company was dangerous, and absolutely to be laid aside; that however, he did not disapprove of a visit to the distressed Lady, now she was in the Monastery; but lest all this should be a trap laid by the waiting Woman, to discover the author of Leander's murder, he offered to go first and discover what reality there was in the business.  
Don Diego was ruled by him for this once, and Almanzor finding Sirenas relation true, and her Person in the Nunnery, came and fetched Don Diego to her: there they had a great conference, and discovered to one another all the circumstances of the action, by which Sirena found herself obliged to Don Diego for her life; she thanked him, and promised not to bring him into any trouble upon her Husband's account.  
Leander in the mean time, was in the hands of the Officers of Justice, and of the Surgeons, in unexpressible torments of mind and body; he had voluntarily confessed the intended murder of his Wife, and was therefore a Prisoner till it should be known what was become of her: every body that heard of the story, was passionate to know the name of the Gentleman, that had so courageously rescued and preserved Sirena; but Don Lucifugne rather chose to lose the fruit of his valour, for fear lest the sweetness of the glory of it, should be spoiled by the bitterness of the formalities of the Law; a little after the news of Leander's death was brought to him, he having rather died of the torment of his mind, and those wounds which his rash conduct had inflicted upon his own reputation, than of those which Don Diego had given his Body. Sirena afflicted for his loss, forsook the World, and turned Nun, resolving to do penance for all the errors of her life. Don Diego struck with an extreme displeasure at the news of it, fell sick, and had almost followed Leander to the other World.   

Adventure the fourth.  
LOng was Don Diego's sickness, but the tediousness of it was much eased, by the continual assistance of Almanzor; for he did not only endeavour himself to divert his Friend with pleasing discourses, but did also procure him many visits from divers others, who were better acquainted with the news of the Town and Court: by these helps he got upon his Legs again, and by his carriage at first, let every body presume that he was as well cured of the ill customs of his mind, as of the bad habit of his Body; for during some days, he paid and received visits in the day time: but the Carnaval, which is a season of Debauch, being come, he presently fell into his old extravagancies, declaring a new War against daylight, and making a solemn league with the hours of the Night. Upon the evening of Shrove-tuesday, he was invited by some of his Friends to a great Supper, to take their leave of Flesh; the Supper done, finding that the Company instead of diverting themselves with some ingenious frolic, were fallen to drinking, and to slandering their Neighbours, he stole secretly away, with a design to go to another assembly, where he knew there would be more innocent mirth: he had scarce gone half the way he intended, when he found himself before the great Gate of a House, which was wide open; his curiosity would not let him go by without going in. He takes his Sword in his hand, and entering by the Gate, went through a long dark Ally, which brought him into a great wide open place, where he could see nothing neither; this stopped him a while, and made him reflect, that it might be great temerity to go on; yet thinking it Cowardice to go back, he groped along the Walls, till he found a door half open, which as he endeavoured to thrust wider open, he fell into a trap, which made him tumble headlong into a place fourteen or fifteen foot under ground, receiving as good luck would have it, no other mischief in his fall, than the loss of his Sword, which he had been forced to let go to endeavour to catch hold of something to save himself: At the same time he heard a Voice, which seemed to come from a remote place, which asked, Who goes there? Don Diego a little stun'd with his fall, was not so ready to answer, but that the Voice redoubled again in a threatening tone, Who goes there? our Adventurer being afraid lest some body should attaque him, to his great disadvantage, before he had found his Sword, which he was groping for, was forced to say, 'tis a Man all alone: If it be a Man, answered the Volce, let him come in hither. At these words, Don Lucifugne began to resent his bold attempt; but there being no going back, he drew near to a door, through which there came a little glimmering or light; as soon as he passed it, he came into a great Hall, at the four corners of which were hung four lamps, which yielded so weak and pale a light, that they did but just augment the native horror of the place; he goes on, and at one end perceives the figures of two Men, all in deep mourning, each of them sitting in a great elbow Chair, the one leaning upon his hand, as if he had been asleep, and the other waking; they both seemed to attend a dead Body, which lay stretched at their feet, and wraped up in a winding-sheet.  
At this most horrid sight, Don Diego was a little moved with fear, when on a sudden, the sleeping Man starting up, began jointly with the other to put these questions to our Adventurer. Art not thou the Man whom the World calls Seignor Don Diego? Yes, replied he, trembling, but how came you by my Name? Trouble not thyself about that, replied the Voices conjointly, but only answer to our interrogations, for upon thy answer depend many things which we have to do this Night. At these words he would fain have been somewhere else, but there being no remedy, he replied boldly, I am Don Diego; and what are you, Devils? I believe he knows us, says one to the other; he will the better obey our Commands, replied the other: first, continued they, thou must stay here and keep this body, while we go to execute the Commands of a Superior Power; stir not from hence, as thou tenderest thy safety: Immediately, without slaying for his answer, they risen up, and going out at the door, shut it after them upon our Adventurer. Don Diego seeing himself left alone with a dead Man, began to recommend himself to the protection of God Almighty, and all his Saints, covering himself with signs of the Cross from top to toe.  
The two Mourners had not been gone above a quarter of an hour, when he began to hear horrid groans, and the noise of iron Chains, with such rumbling as if the House had been falling down; this having produced in him a strange terror, he went towards the door, with a design to get out, if possible; but as he was almost at it, he heard a fearful Voice behind him, which in a sad tone cried to him, stay Don Diego, do not think to fly from me; thou hast not yet leave to departed, come back, or I'll follow thee. At these words, looking back, he perceived the dead Man a rising up, and found that the Voice came from him; who continued thus, Know that I am he whom thou didst deprive of this life a few days ago, without having received any injury from me: Barbarous Man, canst thou hope to avoid the vengeance of Heaven? 'tis by its order that thou art brought hither to hear my just complaints, draw near therefore, that I may reproach thee with all thy crimes.  
This discourse put Don Diego into a mortal Trance; he certainly believed, that it was the Ghost of dead Leander, come from another World to torment him; nevertheless he drew nearer, not daring to do otherwise, and the dead Man pursued thus. I must confess, that thou didst kill me in the Field, and fight bravely with me; but because I had not learned in my Youth to fence, thou hadst an easy victory over me; but now thou shalt do me reason, come let us wrestle, body to body, upon condition, that if thou dost give me a fair fall, my death shall be forgiven thee, and neither I nor any of my Comrades shall ever disquiet thee more. But if I overcome thee, thou shalt be bound to come every Year, upon the day of my death, and pass the Night upon my Grave in the Churchyard where I am buried. Don Diego seeing that the match was like to be very unequal, desired in submissive Language to be excused, as not being able to Cope with a Spirit; but the Ghost not consenting, and being ready to fall upon him whether he would or no, Don Diego put himself into as strong a posture as his fear would let him; immediately the dead Man risen up, and showed himself to be much above the stature of an ordinary Man; at the same instant, the four Lamps that lighted the room fell down with a horrid noise, and the Ghost lancing himself upon frighted Don Diego, struck him down, and left him in a swoon, out of which he recovered not till about two hours after; As soon as his Spirits were come again, he opened his eyes, and not knowing in what World he was, looked about him, and found that it was day: He considers the place where he was, sees nothing but four bare dead Walls; he rises, and endeavours to find some footsteps of those horrid apparitions, but could not so much as find the Lamps he had seen fall to the ground.  
The day breaking in upon him, gave him courage enough to visit the rest of this dismal house, which he did every where, but found nothing but his Sword; he took it and went away, being ashamed to be seen in such a place, though he would fain have informed himself of the Neighbours, whose house it was, and how it came to stand thus uninhabited.  
Being come to his own door, he went in, and immediately put himself to bed, to refresh his wearied Limbs, and comfort his affrighted Spirits. The little sleep he took, was disturbed with frightful dreams, and at last quite interrupted by a very great knocking at his door; Almanzor, who came to him upon the noise, talked with him a great while, and heard from him the narration of his whole Adventure, before he would stir to let in those, who by their reiterated knocks did seem to be in great impatience; at last to be delivered of their opportunity, he went to the gate; he that had stayed all this while, was one Don Antonio, an intimate Friend of Diegos, and a very merry Companion: Having saluted our Adventurer, he asked him, how he had passed his Carnaval? having had some slight answer, For my part, said he, strocking his Munchadoes, I failed last night of trepanning a fellow, for whom I had prepared a most ingenious trap: 'Tis one that you know, 'tis the Cordovan Gentleman that we call Don Diego, but I shall have him in one time or another: Why, what is the matter between you? replied Lucifugne: the matter is, answered Don Antonio, that he has vanity enough to be my rival, and to court a rich Lawyer's Daughter, whom a Friend of mine long designed for his Wife.  
Now you must know, that this Lady's Windows look directly upon a certain Churchyard, which gave a pretty hint to my Friend to be revenged of his Cordovan, and put an obstacle to all those walks which he takes on Nights, about her house; having heard that Don Diego was not very valiant Man, he told him one day in my presence, that of late there had been buried in that Churchyard, a Man of a notorious ill life, who did always walk there about three of the Clock in the Morning, making fearful groans, and a dreadful noise of Chains, insomuch that many of the Inhabitants were ready to forsake their Houses; that therefore he did advise him as his Friend, though his Rival, to retire betimes, for fear of some ill rencontre with the dead Man's Ghost. I joined my persuasions with his, and endeavoured to increase his terror, by exagerating the honour of the apparition: But here our Gentleman was proof against our Plot, for though he made as if he had believed all we said, yet he continued every Night to walk in the same place, and give his Mistress Serenadoes, without fear of being interrupted by the dead Man's groans.  
Our design being thus averted, I bethought myself of another, in which I used a much more terrible apparatus: I have of late, you must know, a house thrown upon my hands; it stands in a by-street, and a solitary part of the Town; and though divers have offered to take it of me, yet I have still deferred letting it, in hopes to make it the Theatre of a piece of revenge, which I had meditated for my Friend upon Don Diego the Cordovan, and no later than last Night it should have been executed, had not a most unlucky accident prevented it.  
I had obliged three Scholars, newly come from the University, and full of waggish tricks, to undertake the business; upon a false pretext, telling them that I had a mind to try the Courage of one of my Friends, who seemed to defy all apparitions of Spirits, and Nocturnal Visions: Thus instructed, I led them to my house about midnight, there in a Hall designed for the piece, I apparelled two of them like Mourners; the third was a young Stripling almost the head and shoulders higher than the ordinary seize of Men, very strong and active; him I dressed in a Winding-sheet, and made him lie down like a dead Man, at the feet of the others, who were sitting in two Chairs; the Hall was hung with four Lamps, one at each corner, which yielded a certain gloomy light, more horrid than darkness itself: Things being thus disposed, I told them that I would presently send them the Man I intended to fright, and that as soon as he should come in, they should ask him, whether or no his Name were not Don Diego? that then they should leave him alone with the dead Man, who was to represent some body that he had killed, (for I had often heard him brag of the Duels he had fought) and to desire satisfaction for his death, by wrestling against him: Besides all this, I left them all freedom of invention, and to add any thing that the occasion should suggest, to terrify our Gentleman the more; this done, I went out, intending to meet Don Diego, for I knew where he was, and to lay a wager against him, that he durst not go into my house; but unluckily I was disappointed of my end, for not far from my House, I heard the clashing of Swords, and coming up, I perceived two of my Friends desperately engaged with half a dozen Algovatils, who would have taken them; I presently drew in their behalf, and with much ado got them off, but we were so warmly pursued, that it was all we could do by taking by-lanes and turn to escape: Before our fray was well ended, and we in a place of surety, it was day, and so by consequent too late to seek out Don Diego; so that I believe my three Scholars have sufficiently cursed me, for making them sit all Night in that mimical dress and posture.  
While Antonio related this story, Don Diego did by little and little come to know the cause of the misfortune happened to him by his own curiosity, and the equivocal names of Don Diego; having a little admired the singularity of the rencontre, he could not choose but tell Don Antonio, smiling, that he had hindered the Scholars from cursing him, and that he could assure him Don Diego had been there by his means, and that they had performed their parts rarely, and almost frighted him out of his Wits: Antonio transported with joy, asked him, how he came to know any thing of the Plot? whereupon Don Diego related to him all his Adventure, word for word; Don Antonio, after he had given great signs of his astonishment, could not choose but laugh, though he were sorry that the effect of a Pageantry designed for another, had fallen upon his own intimate Friend: But Lucifugne easily forgave him, as being himself very glad to see that apparition to be but a fiction, which he had taken for a reality.  
After some further mirth, Antonio invited his Friend to Supper, resolving likewise to send for the three Scholars; but when he came home, he was met by two of them, who came to give him an account of their success; and to tell him withal, that the third verily believing that the Man he had frighted was dead with fear, had taken Sanctuary in an Ambassadors house, to protect himself against all pursuits of the Law: Immediately they sent him word, that he might freely come out, and that if he had a mind to be very merry, he should come and Sup with them, where he should hear a pleasant story: he came accordingly, and they were all as jovial, as they had been sad the Night before. The Supper ended, Don Diego went home betimes, to the great content of Almanzor, who did begin to hope for a through reformation, seeing such good beginnings.   

Adventure the fifth.  
THe Feasting and public Solemnities of the Carnaval being over, Lent made its solemn entry, with an ugly aspect to those, who from the excesses of the week before, found themselves reduced to pickled Herrings and Ling. Don Diego, contrary to Almanzor's expectations, was not much troubled at its coming, and whether it were that he was pleased with the variety of the Season, or that he did really intent a reform, helived very civilly and modestly the first weeks of Lent; but perseverance, the greatest of Virtues and that which Crowns them all, was not at this time given to our Adventurer: For no sooner did Easter draw near and the Spring begin to warm the Earth, but Diego's blood receiving a new motion from this accession of heat, made him seek out his old Comrades. He soon found them, and began again by little and little to anticipate upon the Night, till at last he was come to the old pass, and did seldom retire till Aurora with her tears had treated him like the Flowers, and all bedewed him.  
One day then, or rather one Night, about ten of the Clock, taking his Sword he walked out into the Prado or Hyde-park of Madrid; every body knows that it is Venus Market, and the Fair where the great trade of Love is driven, between the Gallants and Ladies of Madrid. Don Diego was just come into the Prado, when he espied a Coach, which drove extreme softly, and in as great state as if it had been a Queens▪ in the boot was a young Page, who Sung very ill, to a worse tuned Guittar: The Coach stopped in a circle of Gentlemen and Ladies, who were sitting round a fountain; and immediately the Page, by his Master's order, began to regale the company with an Atre, but was interrupted with so many railleries, that he was glad to hold his Tongue, and his Master to make room for a Coach which followed: In it was a young Lady of exceeding Beauty, with another old one, and she was singing divinely well to a Guittar, which she touched as sweetly: all the Company drew near at this so pleasant an Harmony, and immediately the Coach was environed by most of the Gallants of the Prado; amongst them there was one, who confidently leaning upon the boot, took more liberty than any of the rest, neither did either of the Ladies seem to take it ill; there were by a great many others, who would fain have done as much, but wanting confidence durst not attempt it: While they were all thus attentive to the Lady's Voice, up comes one, almost out of breath, having followed the Coach from his Lodging; he draws near, and taking notice of the Lady's familiarity with the Gentleman that leaned upon the boot, presently grew jealous of him, and resolved to quarrel with him; as he was thinking of a pretext, up comes Don Diego to him in haste, being acquainted with him, and desires him to keep his Guittar for him, while he followed two of his Friends, who by their words and actions did seem to him to be gone to fight: Our Gentleman, whose eyes were fixed upon the Lady in the Coach, took only so much notice of Don Diego's words and actions, as to take his Guittar, and so let him go; he had no sooner Don Diego's instrument in his hand, but a string of that on which the Lady played broke; immediately he advances very civilly, to present the Lady with his, that the Company might lose nothing of so fine a diversion; but as he drew near to present it, he was pushed back with scorn by him that leaned upon the boot: immediately Don Diego's Friend, resolving to chastise his insolences, replies with all his might with the Guittar upon the favourites head, which was bare, and before he could put himself in defence, had redoubled the blow, & broke the Guittar into a thousand pieces, as well as the Head in some places which run down with blood; immediately they both drew, and all the Company too: The Sergeants, who do ordinarily walk upon the Prado, expecting some such fray, came in: at their appearance Don Diego's Friend slipped away in the Crowd; the Coach for fear of being seized upon, drove away as fast as four Mules could draw it, and there remained no body there but the wounded Gentleman, and the bruised Guittar.  
In this very instant back comes Don Diego, who had parted his Friends, and was much astonished to find such a solitude, where a little before he had left so great a crowd; he walks up and down, and endeavours to find out his Friend the depositary of his Guittar: but seeing it was in vain, retires very disconsolate for the loss of his dear instrument, which had been his faithful Companion in most of his Adventures; being come home, he sends to the Gentleman's Lodging; but answer was made, that he was gone into the Country, and that they did not know when he would come back.  
The loss of the Guittar was the cause of Don Diego's keeping his Chamber for some days, where we will leave him, and see what became of the wounded favourite. Whether it were the disgrace of having been beaten before his Mistress, or really the hurts he had received that made him so ill, is unknown to this day: but so much we have, that he grew worse and worse every day, and fell at last into a very violent fever, insomuch that the Physicians and Surgeons did scarce hope for life: in the mean time the criminal Judge did use all possible means to discover the person that had brought him into this case; and to that end had consigned the broken Guittar into one of his Catchpoles hands, who never left poring upon it till he had by putting all the pieces together, discovered at last the name of the workman that made it; presently thinking he had made a happy discovery, he goes to him, and asks him if he knew that Guittar; he answered, yes, and that he had made it for a Gentleman called Don Diego; the Sergeant not content with his naked testimony, asks his journeymen; who confirming their Master's words, he summons them all immediately to come and depose the same upon Oath before the Judge: They not daring to refuse, go and justify what they had said to be true; the Judge forbids them as they would answer it at their peril, to give any notice of their deposition to Don Diego: But no sooner were they out of his sight, but reflecting upon the injury they had unwarily done to a Gentleman their customer, they went unanimously and gave him information of the danger he was in. Don Diego, who was very innocent, fell into a great rage against the malicious Catchpole; he by the advice of Almanzor, immediately secured all his goods in an Ambassador's House hard by his, having got acquainted before with his Secretary; then he retired thither himself, and kept close for a matter of three weeks or thereabouts; during that time, the great care that was taken of the sick man, who was a person of condition, had good success, and he recovered so well as to be out of danger; upon that, some propositions of agreement, and tender of satisfaction were made, which by the mediation of the Lady, for whom the quarrel had happened, were after some dispute accepted, and the Gentleman Don Diego's Friend came back and shown himself again; he presented Don Diego with a very fine new Guittar, and all was well.  
But Don Diego, who was of a very vindicative nature, being not at all satisfied that the malicious Catchpole, who had laid him up so long, should go away , at last never left contriving till he had bethought himself of some piece of revenge, where neither he nor his Friends might run any hazard; and at last after much study and labour he was delivered of the following design.  
During his stay at the Ambassador's House, he had got acquaintance with some witty young Men, who had taken shelter there as well as himself: One day than he invited them to Supper, where be spared no cost to put them in good humour. The first health they drank was the Ambassadors, who afforded them the protection of his House; the second was the magnificent Don Diego's, at whose cost and charges they were then so merry; the third was the Lawyers and Attorneys, who did protect them with their eloquence and shifts, against the severity of the Law; the fourth was to the Brokers, who did buy of them, and so industriously alter the Cloaks they did use to nim in the Night; the fifth was to the Vintners, who did often give them credit, and by that means afforded them the occasion of bubbling a young Whelp; thus they went on till they were all pretty well gone.  
Then Don Diego having proposed to them his intention, they all consented to it, and four of the most determined amongst them undertook it: They clothed themselves in black Serge from top to toe, putting upon their heads great horns, and behind them great tails of two yards long, which Don Diego had provided; in this equipage, as like Devils as they could make themselves, they marched out, and getting over the wall of the yard where the Sergeant's house stood, they broke into it, and with a horrid noise running up Stairs, dragged him out of his bed from his Wife; there they whipped him so long, till they had used all the bundles of rods they had brought with them, and drawn so much blood of him, as cast the poor man into a Swoon; but they resolved to leave him in his senses, that he might remember his punishment, and so continued on clawing of him, till out of the extremity of pain they brought him to himself again; the first word he said when he opened his eyes, was, Jesus; at the sound of that Name, they all forsook him, and vanishing immediately, confirmed him and his Wife in the opinion, that they were true Devils: The Sergeant lay upon the floor of his House a long time, while his dismayed Wife was hid in the sheets, and all in a could sweat, so that it was day before he got to bed again, and then he was so sore with the stripes he had received, that he was hardly well in a fortnight.  
The noise of this so strange an accident, was in the mean time spread all the Town over, and every body had a curiosity to see the Catchpole, that had been chastised by the Devils themselves, so that he durst not stir out when he was well, for fear of being pointed at in the Streets. Don Diego hearing all this, thought himself well revenged, and immediately retired to his own House, where for two days he lived modestly, and then began his Night-walks again.   

Adventure the sixth.  
THe harbingers of sleep, weariness and yawning, did begin to summon the Sun to retire to his bed in the Sea, which is justly reserved for him alone, (for being of so fiery and dry a complexion, few besides himself can like a Couch so wet and so cold) when our generous Don Diego, a very ill Disciple of his own experiences, resolved to seek out new dangers, or rather to meet them half way, for they seldom avoided him: The Night was quite blind, and had not so much as the glimmering of a few Stars to light its Friends, and therefore the more welcome to Don Diego; but before we enter any further into the Adventure, we must make a little degression.  
There was at Sevill a Man of a lofty mean, who wore good  and passed for a Gentleman, but was indeed a Shark; his Name was Don Diego, and most of his tricks be played in the Night; he was surnamed the Nocturne, so that there appeared in the World two Don Diegos of the same Name, ours being called sometimes Lueifugne, and sometimes Nocturne: Our Sevilian seeing that his life was discovered at Sevill, and that the many robberies he had committed, would in the end lodge him in a place of perpetual darkness, resolved rather to be eclipsed for a while, and to steal away; he gave out cunningly, that he was going for Madrid, but the day that he absented himself from Sevill, he took Grenada road, hoping to be very welcome in that place, which affords ordinarily a favourable access to Strangers.  
The report of his journey to Madrid being published, and come to the ears of a Merchant, whom he had cheated of some Rings, the Merchant without more ado gets up, and to the no small loss of his skin, which the Mules hard trot and saddle did sufficiently wear away, came to Madrid; there having sent a note to all the Goldsmiths, to apprehend the Man if he should come to sell the said Jewels, he endeavoured besides to strike into most wild Companies, hoping to discover his Gentleman in some such gang.  
The second Night after the coming of the Jeweler, our primitive Don Diego set out again upon the quest of some new Adventure: He had got acquaintance with a young Solicitours Wife, a very pretty Woman, who had the reputation of a great deal of Wit, and much of subtlety; the glory of overreaching all her cunning, and gaining with ease one who was so well fortified against the attaques of all others, had engaged Don Diego in this Siege, and in it he had been so fortunate, that with the loss of very little time, but by the help of an industrious old Woman, he had subtly undermined the place, and brought it to capitulate; the articles were, that it should be delivered up to him that Night between twelve and one of the Clock, but that he should not fail to bring along with him two rings of good value, which the Lady had seen upon his fingers, to be as it were hostages of good behaviour on his part. Diego promised he would, and though he had set a greater value upon the Rings, because they had been his Mothers, yet being accustomed to sacrifice all things to his sensuality, he yielded to that article; the next was, that he should lay by all the signs of a Gentleman, viz. his  and his Guittar, and come disguised like a Serving man, to the end that if he were by chance met either coming in or going out, the Lady might say that he was a fellow come from her Mothers in the Country, and to that end, she put into his hands one of her Mother's Letters, which she had new sealed up; lastly, that he should climb over an old Wall, and so by the Garden, of the door of which she gave him a key, come into a little summer-house, where he should find the Lady disposed to receive and content him: Don Diego having signed all these articles, set out from his own House about the hour of assignation; as he came into the Street where his Mistress house stood, he heard in passing by a door a very great noise, as of people in a tumult; thereupon he steps in, the door being open, and sees a Man writing upon the bottom of a Barrel, and another who lighted him with a Candle in a Lantern, for fear the Wind should blow it out: Round about them stood a great many others, some without Stockings, others without Doublets, and others in their Shirts with their Cloaks over, having almost all Swords under their Arms. Oar Adventurer stood a pretty while behind them, to hearken to what they were saying, without being perceived, and found that some body had been robbed in the Neighbourhood, and knew the Man who was writing for the Clerk of criminal Causes, who was taking the deposition of the Witnesses; having thus contented his curiosity, he thought fit to retire; but as ill luck would have it, he was surprised with a fit of sneezing, which he could not Master; the noise made the others face about, and ask, Who's there? Don Diego not willing to be taken notice of in his disguise, began to hasten away, hoping to avoid their pursuit at the next turning: But his haste increasing the others suspicion, they ran after him with a full cry, stop thief, stop thief; Our Friend, who could not endure any offence in his humour, turns back upon those words, and with (you lie, you dogs) cuts the foremost over the pate, and lays him at his feet; the others exasperated by the blow, fell upon him, and in spite of his resistance did disarm him, and carry him before the Clerk of the criminal Causes.  
There was nothing in his person, that might not in some sort serve to convict him, for his mean and his  were not all suitable; besides, having searched him, they found in his pocket a little box, wherein were the two Rings, the Letter, and a Key, which was that of his Mistress' Garden door; the Clerk divided the spoil very equally, taking for himself the two Rings, and giving the Catchpole his assistant the Letter and the Key; that done, he sent Don Diego to Prison, notwithstanding all his protestations, that he was a Gentleman, and a Person of Quality; who would make them repent their insolency; they dragged him along, and the Jailor for his welcome put him into the Dungeon to two true thiefs, that had been taken in the very act of that robbery: They hearing him talk much of his quality and Friends, resolved as soon as they should be confronted to him, to say that he was one of their complices, to the end that by his Friends means they might be all absolved: Whereupon the next, they charged him home with all the robbery, and put him into a most violent rage against their knavery, but all to no other purpose, than to make the noise of him seem more guilty.  
In the morning as soon as this capture and imprisonment of Thiefs was abroad, divers of Don Diego's Friends came to be bail for his appearance, but he had not so much liberty granted him as to speak with them, so that they were fain to return, and expect the event of the business by the Law.  
In the mean time the report growing public, came to the ear of our Sevilian Jeweler; who hearing of Jewels seized in the Pocket of one Don Diego, made no doubt but it was the Man he hunted after, and came in great haste first to the Clarks to seize and claim the Rings, then to the Prison, to charge the Prisoner with new crimes; he employed in the pursuit of his business the Solicitor, husband to the fair Lady who was to have granted Don Diego a better Night's lodging, than that which his hard Fortune had provided for him; he coming to inform himself more particularly of the business, found the Letter directed to his Wife, and the Key of one of his Doors; upon that he suspected that there had been a design to rob his house too, and immediately put in a new charge upon the Prisoner, desiring he might be interrogated upon it.  
The process being in this condition, Don Diego could do no less than give private notice to the Lady, to desire her to cause her husband to desist from his violent pursuit, or else that he should be forced in his own defence to discover all the intrigue; but she being a perfect coquet, was already engaged in other Amours, and little minded Diego's advertisement; this being related to Don Diego again by his old Ambassadress, he resolved to clear himself of the infamy and oppression he lay under; and therefore sent for one of his intimate Friends, who was likewise familiar with the Judge, and laid open to him all the mystery: he told the Judge of it, who told him, that Don Diego must prove what he said; thereupon the old Woman was heard, who discovered the assignation: The Letter was produced, and the Sevilian Jeweler being brought before Don Diego, confessed to his great amazement, that he was not the Man that he looked for; thereupon the Judge set him at liberty; ordered the Rings to be restored to him; to the Solicitor the Keys of his Door, and to his Wife the Letter. After the pronouncing of this just Sentence, the Merchant and the Solicitor stood amazed, and looking upon one another; and at last went away, both with three inches of nose, and the Solicitor with a famous pair of horns, which with much ear and industry he had planted upon his own head: Don Diego retired, smiling to see their dejected countenance, and was very glad that the accident had hindered him from going to the assignation, where infallibly he had parted with his Rings; Thus ending this Adventure, we may conclude with the proverb, That ill luck is good for something.   

Adventure the seventh.  
THough our incomparable Don Diego were come off with flying Colours from this last engagement with his ill fortune, being absolved from all the crimes which had been laid to his charge; yet he resolved to inflict a voluntary punishment upon himself, and for a while to leave Madrid. 'Tis true, that his banishment could not be very rigorous, since one of the main motives of his journey, was to receive two thousand Ducats, which were due to him at Salamanca: In this City is the University of Spain, and ordinarily a very great concourse of Scholars, to partake in the fertility of all the Sciences, which seem there to have chosen their seat. Don Diego had to do with such good paymasters, that no sooner did they hear of his arrival, but they brought him his money to his Lodging: Nevertheless he resolved not to go back so soon, but spent some time in the conversation of the most learned and ingenious of the Professors and Scholars, to his very great advantage: At last, doubly enriched, he returned to Madrid, and locked up his Ducats very carefully, as resolving to inspire them with something of his humour, and to let them see day as seldom as he could; the two first Nights were devoted to the rest of his wearied Person, but the third he resolved to walk out, for fear of being guilty of violating his own freedom and natural Privileges; but he was prevented from executing his design, by divers visits of his Friends, and amongst others there came a certain Person whom the World called the Knight of Wonders, because that without any visible revenue or income, he appeared very handsomely at Court, wearing as good  as any body, and keeping as handsome a Retinue; this did make many suspect, that he had some flight of hand, to convey other people's money invisibly to his own purse: Don Diego gave him an ample recital of his journey, and the happy success of it; showing him withal his Ducats, to confirm what he said; the Knight congratulated his happy return, and having given him an account of the Town, and all the News, took his leave, though Don Diego would have made him stay Supper.  
It was past midnight before our Adventurer could get clear of two or three visits more, but at last the visitants being all gone, he took his Sword and walked out; his first reflections were upon the imprudent action he had done, in showing his Ducats to the Knight of Wonders, being much troubled lest he should conspire against the quiet which he had proposed to himself in the enjoyment of them: In this thought he resolves to go back, and to hid them in another place, that at least he might disappoint the aim of such as should endeavour to get them from him. As he was going back, he took his way through a Churchyard, which was hard by his House, and heard a Voice, which was mingled with sighs and groans, and which did seem to come from a House where they had laid up the dead men's bones; he stops at that, and hears it again; immediately considering that it was an occasion of showing his Courage, and such a one as would make him pass for a Heroes if he came off well, he resolved to go on towards the Voice: Drawing near, he perceived a very weak light, which did break through a separation of Board's, which divided the House from the rest of the Churchyard; that guided him to the door, which a little about, and just as he was going in, was he trod upon a dead Man's rib, which breaking under him, had like to have given him a fall; at the noise, a man's voice cried, Who goes there? and immediately Don Diego saw a Person of a noble mean come towards him, having his Sword drawn in one hand, and a dark Lantern in the other; at the sight of the naked Sword, Don Diego immediately drew, and was putting himself in a posture of defence, when he heard himself named, and knew the Voice to be that of the Knight of Wonders: Diego full of admiration, asks him, What he did there? Alas! my dear Friend, answered the Knight, you find me here in the greatest perplexity imaginable; a young Lady of quality, whom I have privately married, without the consent of her Friends, is here just now delivered; for you must know, that having lived in her Father's House all the time since our marriage, she let me know this morning, that, she did begin to feel some symptoms of her labour, and begged of me that I would convey her away from her Friends, fearing a hard usage from her Father, who is a most passionate Man: I not knowing in so short a time whither to carry her; was resolved to have brought her to your house, as knowing your frankness and generosity to distressed Persons; but by the way she was so overcome with her pains, that we were glad to get into this Charner-house, where she is just now delivered: At that they drew near, and Diego saw with amazement a young person of admirable beauty, lying in a weak condition upon a heap of dead men's bones, and a Child newly born by her, which by its cries seemed to bemoan its destiny in being born in the very Empire of Death: In this confusion, the Father takes the Child, and wrapping it in his Cloak went away, recommending the mother to Don Diego s care, who remained there all alone with a Lantern in his hand, comforting the poor disconsolate Lady. But for an increase of misfortune, the wax-candle which was in the Lantern was at an end, so that going out, it left him & the Lady all alone in the dark, the terror of which was much augmented by the native horror of the place.  
In the mean time, while our Charitable Adventurer was thus employed, one of the subtlest thiefs in all Madrid had set spies upon his Ducats, and having advice that he had forsaken the guard of them that night, made haste to use the happy occasion; he picked all the locks of the House, and took the money, divers jewels, and two very good suits of : he makes a bundle of all this, and winged with speed and fear, gets away safe into the Street. He had not gone above a Streets length, when he heard the Watch coming that way; whereupon being well acquainted with all by-passages, he slips cunningly into the Churchyard hard by, and coming into the Charner-house where Don Diego and his Lady were, throws down by them his bundle: The Lady was frighted, and Don Diego immediately with his Sword drawn, goes towards him, being very ignorant of the Present which fortune did make him of his own goods: The thief hearing some body walk upon the dead men's bones, and frighted besides with his own guilty Conscience, runs away as hard as he can drive; just coming out of the Churchyard, he meets the Watch, who went about to lay hold on him, as a suspected Person; but the imagination of being pursued by a Ghost, gave him courage enough to force his way through them with a quarterstaff, which he understood the use of very well.  
Don Diego hearing no more noise, thought it not discretion to follow any further, and leave the distressed Lady alone; he therefore went back to her, and found that she had recovered a little strength; whereupon he proposed to her, to lead her to one of his servants Houses, who was married and lived there hard by; she consented, & they were very courteously received when the people of the house saw their master Don Diego; as soon as lights were brought, and that Don Diego could freely contemplate the face of the Person he had done so good an office to, it was all he could do to refrain from falling at her knees, so admirable was her beauty; and certainly, had not the concern for his Ducats, and his usual trueness to his Friend, been his Antidotes, he could never have kept the Poison of Love from killing all his reason. Immediately a Midwife was sent for to tend the Lady, who was put into an excellent bed: There let us leave her, and see what became in the mean time of her lover the Knight of Wonders.  
He having found a Nurse with much trouble, and being yet desirous to stay a little to see the Child tended, it being somewhat ill, desired the Nurse's Husband to go and excuse his delay to Don Diego and his Lady, and entreat him to dispose of her somewhere, where she might receive help and assistance; when this Man came to the Churchyard, Don Diego was already gone; the man coming in, finds no body there, whereupon he makes haste to get out of so horrid a place, and as he was near the door, sets his foot upon the bundle which the thief had thrown there; finding it yield under him, he thought it was some dead man's body, and giving a great shriek, was ready to run away, when by the favour of his Lantern he perceived his error; he views the bundle, and seeing the outside pretty rich, gins to deliberate, whether or no he should carry it away: He easily concluded to the affirmative, thinking it no small favour of his fortune to meet with such apparel in a place where every body comes naked.  
Don Diego all this while, having seen the Lady well disposed of, thought that how he might pay a visit to his Ducats, which had run in his mind ever since his going out; he comes to his House, goes straight up to the Chamber where his Cabinet stood, and finds the doors of it open, and his Money gone, as well as his Jewels and ; immediately not knowing whom to accuse, he suspects the Knight of Wonders to be the author of this feat, and that he had taken the time to do it, while he was busy in conducting the sick Lady to a place of safety and refreshment. This thought having transported him with anger, he immediately went out, resolving to go strait to the Churchyard, whither it was probable that the Knight would come, that he might seem less guilty.  
As good luck was, Don Diego came into the Churchyard, just as the man whom the Knight of Wonders had sent to him, was getting up his bundle, and going away with it; suddenly Don Diego blinded with rage, falls upon him, taking him for the Knight, and not only made him lose his hold, but threatened to have him hanged: At that very instant a Catchpole who had in vain wandered all Night in hopes of a prey, comes in at the noise, and seeing two Men struggling about a bundle, commands them in the King's Name to keep the Peace, and answer his interrogations; and in Spain every petty officer of Justice being much respected, he was presently obeyed. The day was just then breaking, and Don Diego's anger being a little evaporated in the scuffle, gave him leave to consider the man he had attaqu'd, and to perceive his mistake; on the other side, the man seeing that no body did lay hold on him, and being afraid lest being found seized of an unknown bundle, he might be called in question for stealing of it, slunk away very diligently, leaving Don Diego to answer the Catch pole: Just as he was beginning his examination, in comes the true thief, who had stayed till it was day, to come and fetch from the dead the Packet of which he had made them receivers; he perceives Don Diego and the Sergeant disputing together, he draws near, and being a very bold fellow, and of a present Wit, comes to them with his hat in his hand, as if he had been some ordinary person drawn thither by his curiosity; the Sergeant after some dispute, having touched Don Diego with his wand, and commanded him to follow, bids this thief, the slander by, to take up the bundle, and come along with them to the Judge: As they went, the cunning rogue takes the first turning, and slips away; a little after, Diego looking about, misses him, and tells the Catchpole angrily, that he should be responsible to him for that bundle; the Catchpole taking him to have been of the confederacy with the other, and vexed to see such a trick put upon himself, answers very saucily, in so much that our Adventurer not able to endure it, draws and cuts him over the pate; at the Catchpoles outcry, the Neighbours came out, and Don Diego is seized and carried before a Magistrate, who having learned his quality, and the nature of the business, was content to give him his own house for Prison, and two Sergeants to guard him.  
The Knight of Wonders in the interim, impatient to hear from his dear Lady, goes to the Churchyard, and from thence, finding no body there, runs to Don Diego's house, at which place he heard of his being robbed, but could get no account of his distressed Wife; not knowing whither to go next, he resolved to see whither his Nurse's Husband was come back again or no; but he was in a strange perplexity, when coming to the house he found the Woman in such a fright, that all her milk was gone, and so the poor infant in danger of being famished: the business was, that her Husband had come to her almost out of breath, and told her, that he must run away for fear of being apprehended for a certain bundle of , of which he had been found seized, and which were stolen goods: At this new accident the Knight of Wonders was extremely troubled, and all that he could do in order to the preservation of the Child's life, was presently to hire a Coach, and taking the infant with him, carry it to a little village within a League of Madrid, where people used to put their Children out to Nurse. The true thief did no sooner see himself at liberty, but without any more delay, for fear of some new accident, he resolved to leave Madrid, which he did accordingly, hoping to enjoy his prey in quiet. The sick Lady was infinitely tormented to see herself forsaken by her lover. Don Diego was almost mad to find himself a prisoner, and so hindered from prosecuting the Knight of Wonders; and in a word, there was a general confusion amongst all these Persons; but Providence at last unridled all these mysteries, and gave a quiet calm, instead of these storms.  
The Knight of Wonders being come to Checafé, for so was the Village called, made such diligence that in less than an hour he found a Nurse, and was with the like haste getting up into his Coach to return to Madrid, when he heard a very great noise in the Inn where he was, and going in, found a Man who had seized another, and was ready to strangle him; crying, traitor, rogue, I am the Man thou didst rob about a year ago at Toledo, and I will now have thy life for my satisfaction; at this man's out-cries the people came in, and the Knight of Wonders drawing near, and putting some questions to the other about the bundle he saw there with him, began to suspect that he might be Don Diego's thief; immediately the Judge of the place was sent for, in whose presence the bundle was opened, and an Inventory made of all that was found, to which the Knight of Wonders laid claim for his Friend. The thief was clapped up, and the Knight went back post to Madrid, to carry Don Diego these glad tidings; who to requite his favour, carried him to see his distressed Wife, who was drowned in tears for his absence; there by the Ladies own confession Don Diego learned, that it was by her means, who was the only Daughter of a rich Man, that the Knight of Wonders did subsist so handsomely; whereupon he was very sorry that he had harboured so ill an opinion of his Friend, but yet very glad there was no ground for it. Leaving the two Lovers to their mutual enjoyment, he went to the Judge, who had given him his house for Prison, and having acquainted him with the business, easily obtained a Commissary to go and fetch the thief, and his theft. The one was hanged, and the other restored to Don Diego, not without some diminution, as having passed through the hands of the Officers of Justice: Being once again in possession of his Ducats, he resolved to keep them with more care hereafter, and in the mean time for an acknowledgement of their recovery, he thought himself bound to assist the Knight of Wonders his Friend, in appeasing and softening the angry Parents of his Wife; who when they should come to the knowledge of their Daughter's action, whom they now lamented as lost, would certainly disinherit her: he by the assistance of a great many people of quality, his intimate Friends, laboured so effectually in the business, that at last the Father and Mother seeing there was no remedy, and being informed that the Knight of Wonders was of an ancient Family, though poor, consented to the match; the more to solemnize this happy success, there was a great meeting of kindred and Friends, where the Wedding was kept in great state.  
Don Diego much pleased at his Friends good Fortune, made a new League of Friendship with him, and one would have thought, that having so many times tried the fickleness of fortune, he should at last have been content to take her and marry her, while she was in a good fit, rather than be exposed to court once more in his adversity; but success makes men imprudent, and so it did our Adventurer, who exposed himself to new dangers, as we shall see in the following Adventure.   

Adventure the eighth.  
Done Diego having experienced a sufficient variety of accidents in the Streets of Madrid, did begin to be afraid lest at last he should be forced to give over his extravagant Life, for want of novelty in his Adventures; while he was in this concern, he learned that the Chariots which pass that Sea of dirt in Winter, and clouds of dust in Summer, which is between Madrid and Toledo, did go in the night time for coolness sake: Upon that consideration, he thought that a little Country air would do him no hurt, particularly since he could take it without seeing the Sun, with whose beams he was at feud; he takes up a place, and was not a little pleased in his imagination, to think what a pleasure it would be to him to hear discourse of the meaner sort of people, who ordinarily take that convenience. The Company was composed of four Clowns, a poor Friar, and Don Diego; as soon as they were out of Town, every one began to relate his Adventures; the one bragging how he had made his Comrade drunk, and left him behind; the other how he had picked his Father's Pocket the Night before, to get as much money as would defray him to Toledo, and make him merry by the way; and a third relating how he had not taken his leave of any body, lest some who were his Creditors should have desired him to stay a little longer than would have been convenient for him, and that in an ugly house, called a Prison: All these confessions came freely out, and almost all speaking together, so that the noise was so great, that had Don Diego had a mind to put in, there had been no room for a word of his; with this odd entertainment they came to Illescas; as soon as they stopped at the Inn, and were ready to light, one of the Company missed his bag, and presently charged the Coachman with it; he denying that he ever saw it, from words they fell to blows, and the Plaintiff Clown being assisted by the rest of his gang, proved too hard for the Coachman Defendant, insomuch that they left him upon the stones for dead; at the noise the Innkeeper, solicited by his daughter, who had commiserated the fall of her poor Phaeton, came out with his servants, and then the fray begun anew, though the Friar on one hand, and Don Diego on the other, did use very peaceable interpositions and exhortations. The rumour continuing, brought the Judge and his Officers upon them, who began with seizing the Chariot and its Mules, than fell on the parties, and had in his general capture comprehended our Friend Don Diego, for all his moderation, if some Country Gentlemen coming in had not known him, and answered for his appearance, if need were; and indeed he had so disguised himself in conformity to his Company, that it was no wonder he was like to suffer with them; whereby a Man may learn, that it is no ill maxim to wear good , when you are in a place where few people know who you are, for than they speak for you, and recommend you to people of quality. Our Adventurer having met in the Inn a very pretty Lady of pleasure, stayed at Illescas for her sake five or six days, she having given him certain liberties, which had made him lose his own to her for a while; the cure of this his Amorous disease, was not performed without some bleeding from his Purse, which is a sort of evacuation which to many people is more painful than that of their Veins: As soon as he was well, he took leave of his Doctor, who would willingly have continued on to prescribe, and hired a Mule; passing thus from one Mounture to another, and finding little difference in the hardship of their trots, but much in their vigour, for this last was almost starved, and so weary that it did threaten him with a fall at every step; having for about a League gone very softly, and yet perpetually tottering, he resolved to try what effect his spurs would produce, and clapping them to the Beasts side, made it in an endeavour to advance tumble head over heels with our Don Diego, who had enough to do to free himself from his stirrups, being sufficiently mauled with his fall; he got up, and choosing rather to go a foot, than try his fate again upon such a ruinous Creature, was well content to lead it by the bridle, and so crawl to the next Inn, where he arrived about break of day, having according to his custom begun his journey in the night; he got a very good Breakfast, or rather a good Supper, for with him the evening was Dinner, and the morning Supper time; and then he went to bed, sleeping like one that neither cares of mind, nor indisposition of body did afflict.  
About four of the Clock in the afternoon he was waked with the sound of a Post-boys horn, and looking out of his window, perceived that it was an Alguasil riding post; he came into the Inn and let the Master know, that he had a Commission from the high Counsel to search all public houses along the road for certain thiefs, who had committed a very great robbery at Madrid; the choice that had been made of his person for such an inquiry, being grounded on the singular skill he had in making such discoveries, in which he often went snips with the thiefs themselves, as being the greatest of them all: The Master at the sight of his order, caused all his guests to come forth and appear, and Don Diego had been certainly secured for the sake of his ill , had not the Alguasil by chance knew him.  
The Officer having made a very diligent perquisition to no purpose, was about to continue on his way, when Don Diego and he walking out at the gate, perceived a good way off, at the entry of the Village, a Funeral coming; it was a Bier carried by two lustyMules, and attended with four Mourners, and four Monks, all in black: the Monks stopped at the coming in to the Village, and calling the people about them, desired them to join in prayer for the dead Man whom they conveyed, and thereupon began to sing the office for the dead; the Alguasil and Don Diego, not to seem irreligious, drew near, and after their short Commemoration was ended, having cast some holy Water upon the Body, asked one of the Monks, if they had not met people in such and such habits; he answering no, the other asked them, if they had not heard of a great robbery committed in Madrid; yes, says the Friar, and here with us is the theft which a great thief has boldly achieved; where is it, said the Alguasil, very much concerned; Alas, Sir, said the Monk, the theft is in the Bier, and the thief is death; come Sir, said he, taking the Alguasil by the hand, and pulling him towards the Bier, come and see to what poor mortals are subject; the Alguasil who hated any thing that did put him in mind of dying, drew back, and getting lose from the Monk, pray Father, said he, let me alone, I am not here to control the actions of death, neither do I delight in seeing such spectacles; after this he made haste to get up and away.  
The Officer being gone, Don Diego took up with the conveyors of the dead body; they unloaded their Mules under a great porch, and caused a table to be covered hard by the Bier, from which they stirred not all the time; they had bespoke an excellent Supper, and seeing Don Diego all alone, invited him to take part of it; he who was not at all ceremonious, and besides very inquisitive naturally into conversations of all sorts of people, accepted their kind offer; they were very merry, and not at all sparing of the delicious liquor, drinking their healths and inclinations round; the Mistress of the house seeing the mourners and the Monks, who pretended to so much mortification, use so little, even when they had an example of death before their eyes, told them merrily, that they did well to make good cheer and rejoice, for, said she, I am certain there are enough that lament and take on for that poor person which you convey: Truly Madam, answered the chief, who sat at the upper end of the table, you have said a thing which is most certain; for without doubt there is at this present a very great affliction in the House out of which this rich body came, and not a poor body as you call it; and that which most grieves the family, is the consideration of his sudden death; alas! he died in my arms, and I myself wraped him up in his winding sheet: Be not therefore scandalised to see us take our refection with some jollity, for besides our share of grief for his loss, that of labour and toil in going thus a foot to convoy him to his Sepulchre, is very great: Saying this, he filled a glass of Wine, and drank to Don Diego the Mistress health; at last by this carousing, one of the Company having a weaker brain than the rest, grew very sick, and having vomited under the table, fell a sleep in the same place, keeping time with his snooring, to the noise the others made with their talking.  
About ten a clock at Night, they that had most of their Wits about them, thought it was time to be marching, it being far from their design to lie in the Village all Night; whereupon they loaded their Mules, and paid their hostess very well, recommending to her care their drunken Companion; and having first taken from him his mourning gown, they were solicitous with her to get them another man in his room, to help to guide their Mules, promising to content him very well. Don Diego immediately, tempted by his own devilish curiosity, and desirous to know to what place it was that they carried the body, offered to supply the room of him whom wine and sleep had disabled: They received him very gladly, and immediately set out, singing a requiem aeternam to the health of the dead man's soul; as soon as they were out of the Village instead of following the road, they took their way through by-paths and lanes, and sometimes over the fields, where there was no way at all; this gave an occasion of thinking to our new mourner: they marched thus about two hours, at the end of which they came to a very high mountain, where there was nothing but woods and precipices, a fit receptacle for none but Bears and Wolves; being entered into the wildest and most secret place of it, the chief turning to his fellows, said with a loud voice, It is now time, Brethren, that we dismember this body; I, I, said another, this is the fittest place in the World for such an operation: our Adventurer was extremely astonished to hear such a sentence pronounced, and could not guests to what end they had resolved to treat the poor Corpse so ill; yet seeing they did not explain themselves any further to him, he withdrew a little, to see what the effect of such a barbarous resolution would be: He had but just gone aside, when he perceived by their looks and words, that they did not agree about the division of the body, and it was not long before from words they came to blows; immediately they all drew short Swords, which they had hid under their gowns, (as well the venerable Monks as the rest) and with them Pistols, and being very much animated with their Wine and interest, began a very bloody fight. At the noise of the Pistols going off, the Mules were so frighted that they run away, snoring and starting as if they had been mad. Den Diego, who was not provided for such Company, thought it his best course to follow the Mules, and endeavour to stop them; but they having already got into a narrow lane, hedged in on both sides, and but just wide enough for them and their burden, made it impossible for our Adventurer to get before them; all that he could do therefore, was to follow them in a very uneven way, stumbling ever and anon, and sometimes falling; having besides his imagination full of all the horrors of death, and altogether taken up with the strange Metamorphosis of his Mourners and Monks, into Soldiers, and of their Breviaries and Beads, into Swords and Pistols; he could not sufficiently wonder at their inhumanity, to go about to dismember a person of quality, and one whom they were to convey to an honourable rest; and could not guests what new mysteries in burials they would introduce, such as these being far from the ordinary rites of Christian Religion.  
Having run about two Leagues, making of such reflections, just as the day began to break, he found he was near a shepherds little Cottage, where the Mules had stopped of themselves; the shepherd and his boy, warned by the barking of their dogs, came out, and were at the first sight frighted to see a man all in black, near a hearse covered with the same stuff; but Don Diego having approached them, with kind words told them succinctly, that he did convey a dead body, and had lost his way in the Night, desiring to be led to the next Village, and promising them something for their pains: They immediately contented his desire, and brought him into a Village hard by, where he met with a venerable Curate, a man of a very good mean, who had formerly lived very handsomely in the World, and was now by fortune's injustice, or indeed rather by her kindness, reduced to live in this solitary place, where he passed his time in studying and praying, to the great tranquillity of his mind; he received Don Diego civilly, and afforded him a lodging in his house, as well as his dead man one in his Church: It was a great happiness for our Adventurer to meet with such an host, who could so conveniently lodge both the living and the dead; as soon as he was alone with the Curate, he related to him all the particulars of his Adventure: The Priest could not choose but admire the singularity of it, but was no way able to unriddle the mystery; he treated Don Diego very handsomely, with good Wine and sweet Meats, and then put him to bed, where he slept till dinner time, and made the Germans leap from the bed to the table; there in the midst of their good cheer, the Priest discovering that Don Diego had a great deal of wit, was charmed with his conversation, and desired him to stay one day more, during which time it may be some body would come and inquire after the dead body: Don Diego, who knew when he was well, easily granted his request, and after dinner they walked out together, taking an extreme delight in each others company; but our Adventurer soon observing, that the Curate had a carriage with him which he had never acquired amongst his peasants, took occasion to entreat his host to let him know by what accident he was brought into so solitary a place; the Parson, who was of a very complaisant humour, without many entreaties, made him the following relation.   

The Story of the Curate.  
SEvil was the place of my birth, my Father was a Gentleman, more renowned by his Virtue than for his Riches, and his principal care of me, was to have me instructed in all sort of learning, that in that at least he might leave me a lasting inheritance; The fame of my capacity in all Sciences, and particularly in the Law, being great, divers very good families desired my alliance, and offered me their Daughters with considerable Fortunes, and no less endowments of Beauty and Virtue; but I not being then of a humour to engage myself, refused all their kind proffers, and lived so long a Bachelor, that most people thought I had contracted some secret aversion against the whole sex; but I was not so happy, as to be provided with so strong an Antidote against that passion, which was to Poison the happiness of my life; a Lady of incomparable Beauty and Virtue was at last the object of my desires, in which I proved so successful, that she did me the honour to prefer me in her choice to a great many, whose fortune and quality might have justly attracted her consent; we were married, and I lived two years with her, in a most happy union and perfect intelligence: but alas! a most horrid storm interrupted this blessed calm, which considering the inconstancy of all this here below, may have been said to have lasted a great while.  
My dear Wife had a Brother, who from a little youthful wildness, allowable enough in one of his age, became at last the most debauched and lose man of all Sevil; his diversions being come to crimes, he fell often into the hands of Justice, from whence my industry and Money did often reprieve him; but he was so accustomed to disorders of a vicious life, that he could not be without falling into them so often, that at last he wearied my patience as well as his Sisters, and we both resolved to forbid him my house, and leave him to the conduct, or rather giddiness of his own brain; but alas! my Wife, who had only consented to use her Brother thus out of complaisance to me, could not continue to perform her part, did secretly admit him when I was away, and relieve him in his necessity, her good nature not being able to see her Brother in distress, though by his own fault; often coming home on a sudden, I would so surprise them, that having no better invention, he would hid himself behind the hang, hard by the bedside where we both lay; and because this invention had often succeeded, they did freely use it, whensoever my unexpected arrival did not give him leave to retire. One Night coming home pretty late, I came up stairs so softly, that they had not heard me, and just as I was coming into the Chamber, my Wife's Brother endeavouring to get to his hiding place, entangled his foot in the hang, and fell with a great noise; immediately a furious jealousy taking possession of my breast, I flew upon him before he could get up, and unluckily lighting with one hand upon a dagger, which he wore at his girdle, drew it in my passion, and struck it deeply into him three or four times▪ his Voice at the wounds he had received, made him known to me, whereupon frighted with the horror of my fact, I let him rise, and he having yet strength enough, and desirous of revenge, drew his Sword, and in a precipitant manner, not discerning objects in the dark, made a thrust which pierced my Wife through the heart, just as his outcry had brought her to his assistance; they both fell bleeding out their souls, and to say truth he did as much revenge himself in killing his Sister, as if he had effected his design upon me, for I lived more in her than in myself; my people upon the dismalness of our noise, coming in with lights, exposed to my view the person that I loved above all the World, just fetching her last groan; at that, seized with a most violent grief, and resolving to die, but not without making satisfaction for the enormity of my crime, I ran out of my House, and going to the Judge of Criminal Causes, rendered myself his Prisoner, desiring him to prosecute the Law against me. This was the last act of my reason, for a little after I ran mad out of the extremity of sorrow; upon that the Law ceased its pursuit against me, and I was put into Bedlam, where for seven years together I was the object of scorn and derision of every body who came to see the place: At the end of that time, by a singular providence, I came to myself again, and my Friends with much ado, and more money, got my pardon from Court, and my liberty; but I found myself without any estate, it having all been squandered during my distraction; much about that time an ancient Uncle of mine enjoyed this small Benefice you see here, and hearing of my condition, resigned it to me a little before his death; I for my part having always had an inclination to Books and learning, embraced voluntarily this solitary innocent sort of life, passing with tranquillity the rest of those days, the beginning of which have been troubled with so great storms.  
Just as the Priest made an end of his relation, the Sun took leave of the Earth, and made them do the like of the fountain, and retire to the Village; as soon as they came near the Church, they found it open, which being something extraordinary, the Curate went in, followed by Don Diego, and found in it a great number of mourners, who had just then brought thither the dead body of the Lord of the Manor; and they were in great contest with the Vicar, because they had found in the Chancel a strange body, it being a place which belonged only to the Lord of the Manor: the Curate appeased them, and Don Diego coming up, and being somewhat concerned that his dead man should not be able to find rest any where, bethought himself of a stratagem to hinder their throwing him out of the Church, and desired they would give him some day's time, in which he hoped to prove, that his dead body had a relation to that of their Lord; he did this only because he supposed the mourners would be gone the next day, and so leave him the liberty of burying the Corpse: In the mean time, the Parson having enquired into the cause of the sudden death of his Patron, was told that it had proceeded from a great grief, which he took for the loss of two thousand Ducats, which some thiefs at Madrid had robbed him of in the Night, four days ago: This was the same robbery for the discovering of which the Alguasil, which Don Diego had met with in his Inn, was going post; and indeed the diligence of the dead Lords Heirs was such, that having dispatched people on all hands upon the inquiry, some of them at last met at the entry of a Wood with a fellow, whom for his suspicious looks they seized upon and searched; they found his pockets full of picklocks, and such other instruments, whereupon they immediately brought him before the Judge of the Village where Don Diego was; there for fear of being racked, he confessed all as followeth.  
That he had been with seven more assistant at a great robbery committed at Madrid; that to transport their prey the more securely, they had disguised themselves like Monks and Mourners, and had buried their prize in a hearse, which they had loaded upon two Mules, and attended it as if it had been a dead body; that by the help of this invention, they had passed all Guards, and avoided all searches; that they had rested themselves at a Village, where he had unluckily taken too much Wine, and was left a sleep by his Comrades, who had taken his Mourning and given it to another, whom they had hired; that as soon as he was awake, knowing the place they were going to, he had followed them, and that he was much surprised at his arrival to find two of them dead, and the rest lie wounded upon the ground, in little hopes of life; that all that he could get from them was, that during their conflict the Stranger whom they had hired was run away with their Mules, and their booty; and that he was taken by them, as he was endeavouring to find out the trace of the Mules.  
By this ample declaration, the Judge came to know that that was the robbery which had precipitated the old Lord in to his Grave, and immediately sent for the Curate and Don Diego, to acquaint them with it; great was their admiration, they go immediately to the Chancel, where were the two bodies, the one of the Lord, and the other of his treasure; it was opened in presence of witnesses, and found entire; they sent post to the Heir, who came transported with joy to view the truth of so good tidings; he forgave the poor thief who had revealed, & made the Jailor let him make his escape. The next effect of his gratitude, was to Don Diego, whom he would have presented very handsomely; but he who was noble and generous, refused all other testimonies of his kindness, besides the honour of his Friendship: After that he presented his Curate with the two Mules, and so took leave, carrying along with him the richest of the two dead bodies.  
Don Diego after this would have taken leave of the Curate, but could not get away; his entreaties to stay being so cordial, and his conversation so good, he stayed with him eight dayes, discoursing with him of the vanities of the World, and the Sovereign happiness, or summum bonum of mankind, which they settled in a tranquil contempt for the pleasures of this life.  
The day of his depart came at last, and though he would have excused himself with many Compliments, from taking one of the Mules which the Curate offered him, it was not in his power to do it, but engaged in requital to keep a perpetual correspondency with this honest Parson, and divert his solitude sometimes with the news of the Court: Our Adventurer having thus taken his leave, was spurred with a desire of being at Madrid, which made him infuse the like passion into his Mule, whose legs were better than those of that other, whose weariness had brought him into all this Adventure.   

Adventure the ninth.  
IT would have been very necessary for Don Diego, to have stayed a little longer with this venerable Churchman, for it may be his conversation in time might have reform something of the extravagancy of his customs: As soon as ever he came to Madrid, he sent word of his arrival to all his Comrades, desiring them to meet him at the old Club, which was at a Tavern where the best Wine was sold: Eight of this mad gang failed not at the assignation, and there having renewed their acquaintance, and confirmed their League by some Bachuick Ceremonies, they all walked out with their guitars; after some Serenades given to their respective Mistresses, they stopped before an Apothecary's door, whom they resolved to make the subject of that Night's entertainment: It was Don Diego that did bear him a spite, ever since the great disease he had when Leander died, and his Wife turned Nun; for this Apothecary being Diego's Neighbour, had out of malice seeing that our Adventurer did not make use of him, caused his Prentices to make such a damnable noise upon two brass Mortars all day long, that it was impossible for Don Diego to sleep; his entreaties and prayers had signified nothing towards the silencing of the Mortars, for he was still answered, that he must follow his Trade, and that Signior Don Diego would not keep him and his family, if they should neglect their vocation to let him enjoy his rest; so that at last he was fain to fine for silence for a fortnight, at a pretty round rate, and that at the end of his disease too, having suffered much before by that troublesome chiming. All this considered, and by our Adventurer related to the Company, inflamed them, who were already heated with Wine, to a desire of revenge; but Diego who was chief concerned, resolved also to be the main actor, and advancing to the door, bounced at it as if he would have beat it down; the Apothecary who was just got to bed, was loath to rise, but answering from his bed, began the following Dialogue with Don Diego, affecting still a little Latin in it, to show he had enough to understand the Doctor's bill.  
The Apothecary.  
Who's that that knocks so hastily add Portam meam? either they are insipid fellows, or worshipful Constable, for none else durst be so bold at this time of the Night.  
Don Diego.  
Pray Sir does not there live hereabouts a certain half Doctor, otherwise an Apothecary, called Mr. Robert?  
The Apothecary.  
Master Robert he may be Doctor Robert omnino I hope for you; 'tis here he lives, and speaks to you in propria persona; speak without prolixity, what would you have?  
Don Diego.  
Alas Sir, is it you? I beg your pardon; pray Sir do not abuse me, if it be you open the door quickly, for I am in great haste, my poor Friend is a dead Man if you do not assist him at this very instant.  
The Apothecary.  
I know you not, neither will I open my door at this time of the Night.  
Don Diego.  
Good Sir do not neglect the Gentleman; the Physician told us he had left his Prescription here, I hope you have not forgot to make what he ordered.  
The Apothecary.  
Oh! now, Deo gratias, I begin to understand you; Is it not for the Neapolitan Gentleman you mean, who has so great a pain in his Stomach?  
Don Diego.  
I, I, 'tis for him.  
The Apothecary.  
Why is he in such haste? my Man told me the Physician had ordered only for Thursday, which is dies crastinus.  
Don Diego.  
For Thursday! Alas Sir your Man was mistaken, and it was for to day; if you fail to send it, the Gentleman will go near to die for want of it.  
The Apothecary.  
Friend do not take snuff, but have patience a little and I'll rise, and within a quarter of an hour the Composition shall be ready.  
Don Diego.  
Pray Sir make haste, you know the Gentleman will recompense you well; but pray have a care of a mistake; in the mean time I'll go let him know that you are coming.  
At these words making as if he had gone away, he only retired to the rest of the Company, and then drawing softly near the Apothecary's door, he heard him call his man, and gave him these orders: Ho, James, where is that purge which we made last week for the sick Lawyer, that died as I was carrying it to him? take it and carry it to this Neapolitan, it will do as well, his distemper is the same: At these words Diego was fain to retreat, not being able to keep himself from laughing, and having acquainted his Comrades with it, moved in them the same passion; but withal they gave him a thousand curses for his damned Composition, taking from him a strong aversion against that poisoning Trade, which is a Plague greater than any Pestilence, as killing continually all the year round, and that with privilege and protection too.  
To see what this would end in, they resolved to stop at the end of the Street, and dog the Apothecary to the place and person who was to be so unfortunate as to be poisoned for their mirth; they had not stayed above half a quarter of an hour, when out comes the Apothecary semi-Doctor with a glass in his hand; they follow him one by one, and saw him go in to a Neapolitan Gentleman's house; after a great deal of stay he was forced to make at the door, for God knows they did not sit up for him, the Gentleman was one of those crazy people who are always drenching themselves, and making an Apothecary's Shop of their belly; as for him, though he were really infirm, yet having a false opinion of his distempers, he did continually increase them, by fancying them greater than indeed they were; he was very superstitious in observing punctually his Physician's orders, and it seems they had ordered him to be purged within two or three days; he had a Valet de Chambre, upon whose care he extremely relied for the administration of his Medicaments, leaving to him to know the hours, the seasons, the quantities, and all the other little circumstances upon which sick people of quality think that all the effect of the remedy depends: The Valet hide taken the last prescription from the Physicians, and sent it to the Apothecary, but finding by it that his Master was to take nothing till within two days, took that time to go and visit a young Wench he was in love with; and it fell out unluckily, that our Apothecary brought his admirable Composition just as the Valet de Chambre was gone out; upon that the Master believing the Apothecary, who said that some body of the house had been at his Shop, and ordered him to bring immediately this laxative potion, swallowed without more ado this dangerous draught.  
In the mean time our Adventurer and his company, having been very merry at the pleasant effect that their drollery was like to produce, thought they had done enough for this Night, and resolved to retire to their Lodging, and put off to the next day to inquire into the success of the Physic which Don Diego had prescribed the Neapolitan: As they were going home, they perceived they were but seven, and that one of the Company was missing; enquiring for him, another who knew his secrets, told them he was gone about some business in which he needed no Companion; but to satisfy the Reader he must know,  
That Robert the Apothecary had a very pretty daughter, but so proud that she despised all the young Shopkeepers in their quarter, and would receive courtship from none but young Gentlemen of quality, whom nevertheless she made to keep their distance, by the Empire of her beauty; Riodan, who was this Comrade of Don Diego's that was missing, had long been a passionate Servant to her, and now at last by means of the Maid, whom he had corrupted with gifts, had got an assignation from the Mistress, being promised to be introduced into her Chamber, when her Father and Mother should be asleep. He happening that evening to be in the Company of Don Diego at Supper, had continued with them, after seeing that they went that way whither he himself was designed; but he was infinitely pleased when he saw the success of Diego's frolic, as being the luckiest thing he could wish for; immediately as they followed the Father, he stole to the door, and upon his signal was let in by the Maid: She led him softly to Dorothaeas' Lodging, which was upon the same floor with her ancient Mother's chamber, and only divided by a Wainscot separation; As soon as he came into the room, she risen up as it were surprised, and being half undressed, discovered to the passionate Riodan such lovely breasts, and so fine a skin, that he could no longer keep the respect he was wont to have for her, but embracing her in his arms, began to pass on to a further privacy; the Lady, who was no fool, knowing the consequence of such an action, thrust him back with a kind of coldness, and told him he was mistaken if he thought to enjoy her otherwise than his Wife. Riodan could do no other than approve of her virtuous resolution, and offered to give any assurances of his fidelity, that such a time and occasion would admit of; that if she would be content with a promise of Marriage under his hand, he would give it her immediately: Dorothea who had a kindness for him, thought that a sufficient engagement from a person of quality, and bid her Maid give him paper and pen and ink to write it: She did, and he having writ a very fair one, and shown it to Dorothea, was going to sign it, when unluckily with his elbow he overthrew the standish, which was a great leaden one, and stood upon the end of the Table; it fell upon a brass Mortar, and made such a noise, that Dorothaea's Mother started up out of her sleep, and cried, who's there? not being answered by the two Lovers, who were as it were thunderstruck, she with much ado crawled out of her bed, and was coming to her Daughter's chamber, in which she saw a light: Dorothea mistrusting some such thing, and not knowing where to hid Riodan, had with much ado prevailed upon him to go away, and was just thrusting him hastily out of her chamber, as her Mother was in the entry coming into it; they both met full butt, and the old Woman being weak, fell down with the knock, crying murder, murder, while Riodan stumbling over her got away; the Daughter mightily frighted with her Mother's outcry, and not knowing what to do, nor how to shelter herself from her Father's anger, when he should come home, ran after Riodan, and having overtaken him in the Street, desired him to carry her away and protect her, relying entirely upon his generosity: The Maid who had been the mediatrix of their loves, leaving her old Mistress upon the ground calling out for help, followed the two Lovers; at last at the old Woman's desolate cries, some Neighbours heard her, and came in; they searched all the house, but found no body.  
In the mean time Dorothaea's Father, haing left his damnable Medicine in the Neapolitan Gentleman's body, comes home, and finds all in desolation; his Wife almost dead, his Daughter run away, and no body able to tell why, or with whom: Great was his amazement, but greater his rage, when he came to himself; but let us leave him a little, and see what effect the Physic wrought.  
The Potion being old, made of ill Drugs, and given out of time, and upon a full Stomach, the Gentleman having Supped a little before, it made him most horrid sick, giving him gripes which made him often cry, oime questo cane traditore ma amazzato: He passed a whole Night in these pangs, and in the morning his Valet de Chambre being come in, he reproached him with being the cause of his death, in bidding the Apothecary give him Physic so out of season; the Valet very innocent, swears and protests that he never was there, and that the disorder did proceed either from the ignorance or malice of the Apothecary, who he believed had done this of his own head, according to their pragmatical custom; immediately he runs to the Physician, and brings him along with him to see his Master; the Physician being come, and having felt the sick man's pulse, grew very angry, saying, the Apothecary was a Knave; immediately he gave the Patiented some excellent Cordials, which were a pretty good Antidote against the venom of this Poison: That done, he has the Apothecary cited before the Faculty of Physicians, to answer for his sauciness and ignorance, in giving Physic of his own head. Now let us return to him. Having a little assuaged his passion, the first thing he resolved, was to bestir himself generously for the reparation of his honour, and to be revenged of him that had thus affronted him: Having long considered and ruminated with himself, who it might be that had carried away his Daughter, he could find his conjectures upon none more probably as he thought, than upon Agrimont, the Neapolitan Gentlemans Valet de Chambre; he was a spruce young idle fellow, that used always when he came to his house, to be saying some obliging thing or other to his Daughter; to which she answering merrily, he thought might have obliged him to have framed this enterprise; and that the better to effect it, he had made him rise and carry the Medicine, employing on that errand some other of his fellow servants, while he himself was got in to his Daughter. Thus prepossessed, he goes to the Criminal Judge, and upon his complaint, gets a Warrant and Officers to arrest and imprison Agrimont for a rape: Master Robert having this, made such diligence, and feed so well the Catchpoles, that they seized my Valet de Chambre in a few hours, and hurried him away to Prison: But almost at the same time, by an order from the Faculty of Physicians, he was arrested, and brought before them, to give an account for his giving the Neapolitan Physic without order; out of which difficulty not being able to disentangle himself, and taking it to be only a trick of the Neapolitan, to hinder the pursuit against his Valet de Chambre, he was so perplexed that he fell sick of a very violent burning Fever. Agrimont in the mean time, seeing himself clapped up upon a false accusation, for having ravished a young Woman whom he had not seen, was in a great rage at the Apothecary, and did by Letters incite his Master, who loved him, to take a signal revenge upon poor Robert; they were four whole days in these perplexities and confusions, like to die, or run mad: By that time Riordan, the true Paris of this Helena, had very generously Married her at a little Village, about two Leagues off; and being advertised by a Friend of the horrid disorder that was amongst so many people for his sake, came to the Town with his Wife, and having first writ a compliment to the Apothecary, in which he called him Father, promising him to love his Daughter as his Wife, he went to see him; great was the joy of our poor Master Robert, at this good news; he embraced his Son-in-Law, made a great satisfaction and reparation to Agrimont, for the injury he had done him; and as for the Potion given out of time, his Son-in-Law having been one of that Club, told him all thestory of it, confirming the like to the Physicians, who else were ready to have fined him.  
The Apothecary would fain have had an action against Don Diego, but Riodan being unwilling to see his Friend in trouble, hindered Robert's pursuit against our Adventurer; yet the Judge coming to hear the story, and having besides a relation given him of Don Diego's extravagant life, sent for him, and by public sentence commanded him to live as other people did, binding him in a good sum of Money to retire to his lodging by ten of the Clock in Summer, and by nine in Winter, at the latest.  
He was forced to submit, to his great regret, and observes to this day that severe order, which put an end to all his Adventures, as it must (Reader) to your curiosiry, till he break it, and give us matter to make a second volume of his Life.   
FINIS.   

THE MARRIAGE OF Belphegor.  
An ITALIAN Novel, Translated from Machiavelli.  
IT is recorded in the ancient Chronicles of Florence, that a certain holy Person, whose life was the admiration of that age, falling one day into a Trance, had a very strange apparition: It seemed to him, that the Souls of Married Men that came trooping in great numbers to Hell, cried out all of them as they passed, that their Marriage was the cause of their Misery, and their Wives the occasion of their coming thither: Minos Radamanth, and the whole infernal Privy-Council, were amazed at the clamour; at first they could not believe there was any thing in the business, but at last observing the same complaints continually multiplied, they thought it fit to make Pluto acquainted: Pluto understanding the report, without imparting any thing to his Wife, (who had taken Physic that Week, and kept her Chamber) resolved the matter should be accurately examined, and such course be taken, as was likeliest to make the speediest discovery of the truth: He issued out his Writs immediately, and assembled his Courts; his Princes, Dukes, Counts, and Barons, were all present; never was Senate so full, nor never was affair of that importance before it: The holy Father that beheld all, affirms positively, that Pluto delivered himself in this manner.  
Right Trusty and ,  
Though our Kingdom was assigned us from Heaven, and the fatal decree has anciently determined our Dominion: Though that sentence be irrevocable, and above the cognisance of any Humane Power; yet seeing his prudence is most safe, that is dictated by Laws, and his judgement most solid, that is fortified with others, We are resolved to take your Counsels along with us, which way we are to steer in an affair, that otherwise may prove (in time) of great dishonour to our Government. The Souls of married Men, that are continually flocking into our Dominions, do unanimously exclaim against their Wives, as the only persons that send them tumbling hither; to us it seems impossible: yet for as much as a peremptory and determinate sentence upon their bare allegations, would not suit with our Satanical Mercy; so a careless pretermission on the other side, could not be without reflection on our Justice: That matters of such importance therefore may have their due disquisition, and Our administration be defended from obloquy or scandal, that no inconvenieny may follow for want of deliberation, and that some better expedient may be found out, than ourselves have happily thought on, We have thought good to call you together, being confident and assured by the assistance of your Counsels, the Honour and Reputation of our Empire will be continued as unquestionable for the future, as it has been preserved hitherto, by our own proper care solicitude.  
There was not one present, but acknowledged it a business of importance, and well worthy an exact consideration: It was the opinion of the whole Board, that all imaginable means was to be used to find out the truth, but what means that was, could not be agreed on; some were of opinion, a single person was to be dispatched into this World, and no more; others judged it better to send several, and that the discovery would be more certain from the experience of many, than of one; a third sort, more brisk and severe in their Counsels, thought that clutter unnecessary, and that clapping good store of them together upon the rack, would be enough doubtless to extort a confession. However it was at last carried by the plurality of Voices, that a single person only should be sent, and in this resolution the whole Company acquiesced: Nevertheless there being no body found that would voluntarily undertake the employment, it was concluded the election should be by lot; and at the same time, having made their billets and shuffled them, the lot fell upon Belphegor.  
One may say, and say true, that fortune never decided any thing so justly; for Belphegor was no ordinary Devil, and Pluto having made him formerly Generalissimo of his Armies, 'tis to be presumed he was no Novice; for all this he had a Month's mind to be quit of his embassy; but the order being unalterable, he was forced to submit, and accept these conditions that were solemnly decreed, That a hundred thousand Ducats should be paid him immediately, to defray the expenses of his journey; That he should assume the shape of a Man; That he should take a Woman to his wedded Wife, and live with her (if possible) ten years; that at the end of the term, (pretending to die) he should give her the slip, repair immediately to his old quarters, and make affidavit upon his own experience of all the pleasures and calamities of Matrimony. It was declared to him also, that during this Metamorphosis, he was to be subject to the pains and misfortunes of Humanity, as sickness, imprisonment, and poverty: But that if by his cunning or dexterity he could disentangle himself, it should be allowed him, and not imputed as any scandal or reproach. Belphegor accepts the conditions, receives his Ducats, and having drawn a spruce party of horse out of his Guards, and furnished himself with Pages and Footmen good store, he set out immediately for this World, and arrived at Florence in a very fair equipage: He chose that place above all other, for the conveniency of improving his Moneys, and putting it to interest with greater advantage. He called himself Don Roderick of Castille; he took a very noble House in the Fauxburg of All-Saints; and that his quality might be undiscovered, he gave out that he was a Spaniard, that being young he took a Voyage into Syria, that he had dwelled some time in Aleppo, where he had got most part of his Estate; but being weary there, he was come into Italy, as a Country more agreeable with his humour, with intention (if any fair opportunity was offered) to Marry: Don Roderick seemed to be a very handsome Man, about thirty years of age; and in short time after his arrival, he made it evident enough that he was rich, and by his liberality, that he knew how to make the best use of them; insomuch as several Gentlemen of Florence, that had more Daughters than Money, took all possible pains to insinuate how welcome he should be into their Alliance. Don Roderick, that had choice of Mistresses, preferred one that was transcendently handsome before them all; the story says, she was called Honesta, and was the Daughter of Americ Donati, who had three more also to Marry, and three Sons between twenty or twenty five years of age: But though Seignur Americ was of one of the noblest Families of Florence, yet he was looked upon as down the wind, and one that was overlaid with too many Children, and the unavoidable charges of his Nobility: But Don Roderick took an order for that, defraying the whole expense of his Wedding; out of his own purse managing all things with that splendour and magnificence, that there was nothing omitted that was desirable upon such an occasion. It was mentioned before, as out of the conditions proposed to Belphegor, that as soon as he was out of the Infernal Dominions, he should be subject to all the passions of mankind; and accordingly he began immediately to take delight in the Honours and Gallantry of the World; and as cunning a Devil as he was, to be wheedled with the flatteries and applauses of Men: But that which delighted him so much, cost him dear; besides that he had not been long with Honesta, but he fell stark mad in love with her, and finding something or other extraordinary in her, that I cannot think of, he was so far enamoured, he never thought himself happy before; insomuch as when she was melancholy, or out of humour, he would curse his Commission, and take his corporal Oath his very life was tedious. On the otherside it is not to be forgot, that Honesta marrying Roderick, and bringing him Beauty and Nobility instead of a Portion, she thought it not fit to leave her pride and untractableness behind her; these two good qualities were so eminently in her, that Roderick who had been used to Lucifers, and had more than once had experience of it, swore point Blank his Wife's insolence was beyond it: For when she once found the fondness and passion her Husband had for her, believing she could manage him with a Switches, and order him as she pleased, she carried herself like his Sovereign, and handled him without pity or respect; and if it happened he denied her any thing, she gave him immediately to understand, that she was also as eloquent in scolding, as others of her quality. By this you may judge what a cooler this was to Don Roderick: Nevertheless the consideration of his Father-in-Law, his Wife's Brothers, the Kindred he had by that blessed Marriage, but above all the passion and tenderness he had for her, made him endure all patiently. I shall not mention the expense of his , which though never sorich, he was forced to change every week, according to the ordinary vanity of the Ladies in Florence. Besides these there were other things, were of noless inconvenience; he was forced (to preserve the peace) to assist his Father-in-Law in the Marriage of his other Daughters, which cost him a good round sum: Moreover that all things might go well, and his correspondency continue with his Consort, he was glad to send one of her Brothers into the Levant with  Stuffs, another into France and Spain with Silks, and to furnish the third with wherewithal to set up a Goldsmiths-shop in Florence: All which afflictions together were sufficient to discompose any Devil of a thousand, yet he had other thrown into the bargain: There is not any Town all Italy more extravagant in their expenses, in their Carnival and Feasts of St. John, than Florence: And Honesta upon that occasion, must needs have her Roderick out do all people of his Rank, in the sumptuousness of his entertainments, in the magnificence of his Balls, and other divertisements that are usual at those times: He suffered all these calamities, for the same reasons he endured the rest; and though perhaps these difficulties were very hard and unpleasant, he would have thought them supportable, could he have been satisfied his patience would have procured any quietness in his Family, and that he might have peaceably attended the hour of his destruction. But Don Roderick found the clear contrary; besides the expense you have heard she occasioned, her insolence was accompanied with a thousand other inconveniencies, insomuch as he could keep neither officer nor servant in his house, above three days together. This was a severe trouble to him, to find it was impossible for him to keep any body about him, though never so well experienced or affected to his affairs: Nor indeed could any body blame them for taking their leaves, when the Devils themselves that he brought along with him, did choose rather to return, and toast the bottoms of their feet against the fire of Hell, than live in this World under the dominion of so super-devilish a Woman. Rodericks life being thus miserably uncomfortable, and his stock that he had reserved, exhausted by her extravagant expenses, he was reduced to that pass, he subsisted only upon the hopes of the advantage he should make, by the return of some Vessels he had sent into the East and West. And whereas before he had very good credit in that Town, to continue it and keep up his Port, he borrowed Money of such as are used in that place to put it out; but those kind of people being such, as are not usually sleepy or negligent in their affairs, they took notice immediately he was not over-punctual to his day: His purse being already empty, and he reduced to the highest extremity, at one dash he receives news of two as disastrous accidents, as could possibly befall him. The first was, that one of Honestas Brothers had lost at Hazzard all that Roderick had entrusted in his hands; and the other was no more welcome, which was, that his other Brother-in-Law returning into Italy, was himself cast away, and all his goods. The business was no sooner known in Florence, but his Creditors had a meeting, where giving him over for one that was irrecoverably lost, and not daring to discover themselves, because the time of payment was not yet come, they concluded he was to be watched very close, lest he should choose them, and show them a light pair of heels. Don Roderick of Castille on the other side, considering with himself his affairs were past remedy, and also the terms he was obliged to by the infernal Law, resolves to take horse and be gone without more ado, which he performed without much difficulty, living conveniently for that by the Port del Prato: yet he was no sooner marched off, but the alarm was taken by his Creditors; they repair immediately to the Magistrates, and pursue him not only with Post and Officers, but lest a certain number of Ducats should debauch that kind of Cattle, who are no better in Italy than other places, and prevail with them for an abatement of their speed, they follow him themselves in a full body, with impatience of hearing some tidings of him, Roderick in the mean time was no fool, but considered very well what he had to do; as soon as he was galloped about half a league from the Town, he leaves the high way, and his horse with it (the Country being enclosed and full of ditches on both sides) and was forced to make the rest of his journey on foot, which he did very successfully; for wand'ring up and down under the shelter of the Vines and Reeds, that abound much in those parts, he arrived at last at Peretola, at the house of Jean Matteo del Bricca, Baily to Jean deal Bene.  
By very good fortune, he meets Matteo carrying fodder to his Cattle; he accosts him immediately, and promises him as he was a Gentleman, that if he would deliver him from the Catchpoles that were in pursuit of him, with design to clap him up and starve him in Prison, he had an invention in his pate would make him rich out of hand, and of this he would give such evidence before he departed, as should assure him of his truth and fidelity; and if I do not, says he, with a damned imprecation, I will be content to be delivered up into their clutches that persecute me. Now you must understand, that though Matteo was a Hind and a Peasant, yet the fellow had cunning enough, and knew on which side his bread was buttered; he considered, if he undertook him and miscarried, he had nothing to lose; and that if he succeeded, he should be made for ever; without any more ado therefore he promises him protection, and clapping him close upon a dunghill that was before the gate, he covered him over with brush-faggots and reeds, and such other fuel as lay there in readiness for the fire: And indeed he was no sooner in his retirements, but in came the Creditors with full cry; they swaggered and laid about them like Lords, but all to no purpose, Matteo could not be persuaded to confess so much as that he saw him; insomuch as marching on still in the pursuit, but with as little success as they came thither, they gave Roderick and their Money over for lost, and returned to Florence every jot as wise as they were before: The Coast being clear in this manner, and the alarm over, Matteo steals to the closet where he had left Roderick, gives him a little fresh air, and conjures him to be as good as his word: Roderick was very honest in that point, and I dare say never any Devil, as to matters of gratitude, had more of a Gentleman; he gave him thanks for the great obligation he had received; he swore over and over again, he would do whatever lay in his power to discharge himself of his promise, and in the heat and height of his compliments, to convince him that he meant as he said, he gives him the whole story as you have had it, and at last told him the very way that he had pitched upon to make him a Prince: Know then, says he, that whenever you hear of any Lady that is possessed, 'tis no other Devil but I that have possessed her; and be sure I will never leave her, till you come yourself and force me from my quarters, after which you have wit enough to make your own terms for your payment. They had very few words more, he only gave him the Summerset once or twice, and shown him two or three juggling tricks, and vanished.  
A while after there was a great noise about the Town, that Mes. Ambrosio Amideis Daughter, that was Married to Bonaculo Thebald●cci's Son, was possessed; her Father and Mother did not fall to use all the remedles are usual in so deplorable a case; they brought before her St. Zanobes' Head, and St. J. Galberts Cloak, which was nuts to Belphegor, and made him nothing but laugh: There was no body in her but Don Roderick de Castille, who was as ingenious a Gentleman-devil as one would wish, and that the world might take notice that this was no fantastic imagination, nor fit of the Nightmare, nor any such trifle, but that she was really possessed, she spoke Latin better than Tully ever Writ, disputed in Philosophy, and discovered the secrets and sins of several people that were there, who were very much surprised to find the Devil concern himself with those kind of affairs.  
Amongst the rest there was one holy Father he did a great discourtesy to, in blurring out before the whole company, as if he had kept a young Lass four years together in his Cell, in the habit of a young Monk; and after all this, let any body judge whether the possession was not like to be true; Ambrosio in the mean time was in great affliction for his Daughter; he had tried all the ways that Physic or Religion could propose, but to no purpose; so as he was brought to the highest point of despair, when Matteo came to him, and undertook the cure of his Daughter, if he would give him five hundred Florins, which he designed to lay out in Land at Peretola: In short, Matteo was an honest fellow, and would have done the miracle gratis, and like a Gentleman, but his pockets were hollow, and he had great occasion for Money at that time; Signior Ambrosio accepts the conditions, and Matteo falls to work; he began very civilly with certain Masses and other Ceremonies, that he might appear the more formal in the business; at length he stole to the Lady's ear, calls Roderick, and tells him he was come thither to him, and did require him to be as good as his word. Content says Roderick, and that you may see I shall deal with you like a person of quality, take notice, that because this expedition is not enough to enrich you, and do your business, I will befriend you more than once, for which reason as soon as I am departed from hence, away I'll march into the Daughter of Charles the King of Naples, and done't fear but I'll stick to her, till you come to exercise me, so as there you may make up your markets at a blow, & become considerable for ever: but be sure after that I be troubled with you no more; and as soon as he had said so, whip says he out of the Lady, and was gone to the great joy and astonishment of the whole Town.  
Belphegor in the mean time was as good as his word, as he promised Matteo; away he goes, and in two or three days time it was all over Italy, that the Daughter of Charles King of Naples, was in the same condition; which was good news for Matteo, who was at this bout to gain the Philosophers-stone: In short, he tried all means possible; the Monks went to work with their prayers, and their crosses, but to no purpose; The Devil would not budge till Matteo came himself, who had formerly obliged him. The King had news of what had happened at Florence, and sends away immediately for Matteo to his Court; who came accordingly, and after some few ceremonious formalities, counterfeited for concealment of the mystery, he cures his daughter. However Roderick before his departure, as is reported in the Chronicle, accosted hint in this manner. You see, Matteo, I have been as good as my word; you see you are become rich in a trice, and may take your ease for the future; so as if I be not mistaken, I have discharged myself as to you very honestly, hereafter have a care how you come near me; for as hitherto I have done you knights-service, henceforward I will do you as much mischief as I can. Matteo being returned to Florence very wealthy, (for the king of Naples had given him above five thousand Ducats) he thought of nothing now but enjoying that peaceably he had got, never imagining Roderick would do him any harm; but his designs were much frustrated by a report out of France, that Lewis the sevenths' Daughter was possessed as the former: Matteo was in great trouble, on the one side he was not ignorant of the power of that Prince, on the other he remembered Rodericks last words; the King used all means possible, but without any success; he was told what feats Matteo had done, and dispatched a Post to him immediately, to desire his Company at Paris; but Matteo pretending I know not what indispositions, that rendered him incapable of serving his Majesty, the King was forced to write to the Magistrates, who sent away Matteo immediately.  
Being arrived at Paris, he was in great affliction, because he knew not which way for his life to perform what was expected from him. At last he goes to the King, and tells him, that true it was indeed, he had formerly wrought some cures in that kind, but that it was not in reason to be expected he could dispossess all people he met with, seeing there were some Devils so refractory and cross-grained, neither threats nor enchantments, nor devotion itself would do no good on: That he said not this out of any repugnancy or unwillingness to do as he was desired, but that in case his endeavours were ineffectual, he might have his Majesty's pardon. The King was stark mad at the story, and told him in plain terms, if he did not rout the Devil out of his Daughter, as he had done out of others, he would hang him forthwith; for he saw no reason why Miracles were not as feasible at Paris, as at Florence and Naples: These words touched Matteo to the quick, he thought there was no pleasure to be taken in being hanged in that manner, and that what the King had said, was without any equivocation: However he recollected himself a little, or at least pretended so, and calling for the Princess that was possessed, he makes his approaches, and whispering her in the ear, told Roderick he was his very humble servant, and put him in mind of the good office he had done him, when he delivered him out of the talons of the Law; adding withal, that if he lest him in the lurch, in the extremity of danger he was then in, the whole World would cry out on his ingratitude; Roderick heard him with no more patience than needs must, he swaggers, swears, storms, and lays about like a Devil in good earnest, gives him a thousand and a thousand ill words, but they could distinguish only these few at the last: How now, you Rascally Traitor, have you the impudence to come near me again? have you forgot it was I that made you fortune? but I'll make all the World see, and you too, with a pox to you, that I can take away as well as give; besides which, you shall not fail to be hanged before you get away from Paris: Poor Matteo seeing no other remedy for his misfortunes, he fell a thinking of some other way, and having sent back the Lady to her Chamber, he made this speech to the King. Sir, I have told you before, that there are certain ill-natured capricious Spirits, one knows not which way to deal withal, and of this sort is that which possesses your Daughter; if what we shall administer might be sufficient, your Majesty should be happy in your desires, and mine also; but if things prove otherwise, and your Majesty be not satisfied with my endeavours, I shall submit, and your Majesty may deal with me as I deserve: In the mean time, I desire your Majesty would give order a Theatre be erected in the Churchyard of Nostre Dame, big enough to receive all the Nobility and Clergy in the Town: Let this Theatre, if your Majesty think good, be hung with Cloth of Gold, and other rich Stuffs, and an Altar set up in the middle on Sunday next; I would desire your Majesty to be there, with all the Princes and Nobility in Paris, and after a grand Mass is sung, let the Princess be brought also▪ Besides this, it is necessary there should be twenty persons at least, with Trumpets, Horns, Drums, Oboe and Symbals, ready in some by-place, when I throw up my Cap into the air, to advance towards the Theatre with all the noise they can make; which Music, with some other ingredients that I have, will I hope send the Devil packing from the Princess: The King gave order all things should be done as Matteo requested; and Sunday being come, and the Theatre thronged with a multitude of persons of quality, and the Churchyard of Nostre Dame full of people, the Princess was led in by two Bishops, and followed by several Lords of the Court; Roderick was in a terrible amaze, to behold so magnificent a preparation, and pondering with himself, was overheard to pronounce these words: I would fain know what this rascally Peasant means to do; I have seen many places, I have more than once seen the whole pomp of Heaven, nor am I ignorant of what is most formidable in Hell, yet can I not tell what to make of this; but I'll handle him like a Rogue, as he is, and if I fail, Pluto requite me; Matteo came up close to him, and desired him very civilly to departed; but Roderick cried out, Oh the wondrous cunning that is in you! do you think by this whimsy to save yourself from my power, and the indignation of the King? but think what you will, you scoundrel, I am resolved you shall, hang for't, or else let me pass for the most miserable poor-spirited Devil in the World; Matteo persisted in his request, but Belphegor gave him worse Language than before; but all that frighted not Matteo, for without losing more time, he threw his hat up into the air, and at an instant the Trumpets, Horns, and all the rest of the Music struck up, and advanced towards the Theatre; Roderick was startled at the noise, and made it manifest that there are some Devils as fearful as men, and not able to imagine the reason, he called out to Matteo, and asked what was the matter? Matteo being a cunning Rogue every inch of him, as if he had been terribly frighted, informs him thus: Alas! poor Roderick, says he, 'tis your Wife Honesta is come to seek you at Paris; he said no more, but it is not to be imagined what disorder these four or five words put the Devil into; they took away his wit and judgement, so as without any consideration, whether the news was possible or not, without speaking one word, away he stole from the Princess; choosing rather to go back into Hell, and give up his accounts there, than to return again into the thraldom of Matrimony, that had already cost him so many sorrows and dangers. As soon as he arrived, he demanded audience, and in the presence of Pluto, Aecus, Minos, and Radamanthus, all of them Counsellors of State, he declared that the Souls of Men were in the right on't, and that 'twas their Wives that sent them to Hell: Matteo that had been too crafty for the Devil, returns to Florence in great triumph; the Chronicle mentions not any great matter the King gave him, but it says, that having gained sufficiently by the two former, he esteemed himself very happy that he had escaped hanging at Paris.  
FINIS.