THE EXTRAVAGANT SHEPHERD. THE Anti-Romance: OR, THE HISTORY Of the Shepherd LYSIS.  
Translated out of French.  
LONDON, Printed for Thomas Heath dwelling in Russel-Street in Covent-Garden, 1653.   

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE MARY, Countess of Winchelsey, etc.  
MADAM,  
WHen I have thrown myself at your Ladyship's feet, with the humblest Reverences I can be capable of, I must confess I cannot be excused from the greatest Presumption I am able to make. For to acknowledge that the meanest person in the world hath assumed the boldness to offer this Piece to one of the most illustrious Ladies of this Island, is so small an argument for my Pardon, that I must, not without much regret, profess myself to be in the highest degree unfortunate, in having no nobler a Sacrifice to offer at the Shrine of so much Honour and Virtue.  
They are strangers to England, Madam, that are ignorant of your Excellencies; and yet all those Attraits, all those Graces, all that Majesty which you carry about you, and like the Sun in its sphere, incessantly disperse, are far short of those Endowments which the fairer guest, your Soul, is possessed of. Your strange Vivacity and Recollection, excellent Prudence, severe and generous Chastity, and your great and exemplary Affection to your Noble Lord, hath rendered you in the opinion of all the interessed in Virtue, as one much above your years, and perfected in the highest Practices and Experiences to Consummation; Nature▪ who accomplishes others by degrees, having finished you in a manner in an instant, and from your Childhood brought you to that perfection, as if she intended to endow you, with what others acquire, and lift you up to your Meridian, assoon as you were come above your Horizon.  
But, Madam, I fear I make an assault upon your Virtue, and confess these declarations unnecessary to a Soul so fully comprehensive as yours is, and must be. It might have been enough if I had only said you are derived from the Royal and heroic Families of SEYMOUR and DEVEREUX, and that you are the true Pattern of that great & good Lady Marchioness of Hartford, your mother, whose noble example is all you can find in books. For this expression of Charite's Beauty, 'tis but your Ladyships in reverse; and those vain and idle Adorations which Lysis pays her, are but such as are really due from all Mankind to You.  
But, Madam, as I ought to be modest in my Author's behalf, who was esteemed one of the most refined Wits of France; so I beseech you recollect in that great and piercing Mind of yours, that, as excellent pieces of Painting have been done from the ugliest Faces, and have had their places in the Cabinets of Princes, so I have been bold to present this (which is a Picture of one of the greatest and most pleasant Extravagances) to your Ladyship; and if my endeavours have done my Author his right, I hope they may find the same reception from your Ladyship in English, as the Authors did in his language; which is the passionate desire of  
MADAM, Your Ladyship's most humble, and most devoted Servant, JOHN DAVIES.   

THE Translator to the Reader.  
THere is nothing in the world of so nice and ticklish a nature as Poetry, a thing which consists all in extremes, and like a Melon is either all gold or dirt. 'Tis that which if it proceed from a regular and a great Mind, not only ravishes and astonishes the present, but establishes itself an Empire in the future time. But as it happens in the life of man, that Vices are infinitely more numerous than Virtues, so it happens in Poetry (which is the Representation of the Life of man) that the offences of it are innumerable, the excellencies very rare and few. For it being a chemical extraction of all that the action of man can present, or the mind of man think, and requiring not only great happiness of Thought, but also a noble restraint of Judgement, over and above some fury or enthusiasm, which may strike life into all the rest; it hath been a thing so inaccessibly seated, that he observed very well that said, The number of Poets truly so called have not been as many as the Ages they lived in. Whereas, on the other side, the delight which tickles younger minds, puts them also on emulation; and the motions of the imagination being swift and easy, and commonly the weakest minds most fruitful, in regard they refuse nothing, hath been that which hath begot into the world huge numbers of little and impertinent Poets, who have spawned forth things, which though they were crooked and deformed in themselves, yet so blind hath the people been, that they have found esteem, which after some small time hath turned to Reverence and Authority. So that even some spirits of a better mould have been seduced to the same opinion, and expected no small glory, if they could but arrive at a good imitation: A humour so generally unfortunate, that unless it be Virgil (and yet some great men have not been wanting to dispute it) there is none that I know of, but hath multiplied the faults of his predecessor. For aiming ●ither immediately to please, by descending to put sottish lownesses as lay level to the people, they have left behind them, as great matters, some very pitiful and ridiculous fooleries, or at least things so common and so mean, that they might have been said by any man on this side an Idiot. Others that have bid at more magnificence, consulting rather with their own dark and narrow imaginations then with the passions and actions of men, instead of representing noble and generous images of Life, have strayed into the greater Grotesques and madnesses imaginable. Hence Ho●er, who though I cannot think the eyes of his Body blind, yet consulting with those 〈◊〉 ones of his Mind, or taking upon trust the Old-wives tales of his time, hath left us so odd an account both of Divinity and Mankind, that I profess, to me is one of the greatest wonders that I have, how through so many serious Ages his reputation hath continued in that strength and youth, were it not that I consider that the Generality of mankind are wholly led away with their first thoughts, and are guided by Authority and Tradition, rather than satisfied with the scrutiny of their own reason; and for that of painting him vomiting, and the others licking it up, as the humour is nasty enough, so had it been as false, had not that great disease of imitation so pestered Poetry since she was first known among men, and her own dazzling greatness made men willing to look upon her by reflection; besides that, there is a kind of laziness in the minds of most men, that make them sit down with things formerly thought on by others, and never to look after any enlargements or discoveries of their own. And as this hath extremely pestered Poetry, so hath it been fatal even to Philosophy, which professes a severe inquest of Truth, which certainly should enlarge to greater variety and extent of thought, than a business intended only for pleasure and all capacities, since we see how few heads of Philosophy there have been, and how many followers; and what an infinite number hath followed Aristotle, for so many centuries together, in respect of those very few exalted and heroical spirits, who have disdained the fetters of Tradition and Acquiescence, and generally broke lose, and discovered New Worlds of Knowledge.  
Others there have been, who willing out of what had been left by others, to melt down what they thought fitting into their own works, that have not been much more lucky than the former, but only disguised foolery from one shape to another; or else grave and serious things into things very ridiculous. Thus Ovid by bringing Hieroglyphical learning into literal Fables, hath amassed together a sort of the oddest and most childish whimses that ever were. Thus Ari●●o making bold with the Legend, hath taken a good many actions, intended there for actions of Virtue, Chastity and Devotion, and transformed them into Amorous or Marshal Extravagancies. Nay, and thus many men not weighing discreetly the differences of times, persons and places, which they have had to represent, have fallen into errors very misbecoming. The Indecorum of Homer's gods, the fault in Virgil's Chronology, Tasso making Christians speak like Heathens, Spencer's confusion, and different choice of names, are things never to be forgiven.  
Nay, even that Poetry which comes to the City, and which seems rather to look upon the reprehension of Vice, than the encouragement and representation of Virtue, as it hath not wanted its several indecorums; so hath it been several times so unfortunate as to teach that which it would deter men from. The common Rogueries and cheats presented in Plays, I believe have rather taught wickedness, than made it odious, since even the worst of men want the Theory of it, which that furnishes, and the Satirists, which pretend to be the severest enemies of all vice, it is to be feared have the most taught it. There is no greater Morality in any Book I know, then in Juvenales, yet in repeating the vices of the times, he is forced unto such obscoenity, that he hath registered vices ugly above the common conceit of humanity, and such as this age, or at least this clime hath not wickedness enough to practise; nay things so transcendently bad he doth not forbear to mention, that even Scaliger hath adjudged him not fit for Christian ears: Not but in all these Books somewhat considerable is scattered up and down, but the mischief is, that the generous and noble parts are so outnumbered by the light, flat, and impertinent, that they hold no proportion at all. But as the mind of man easily receives the worst impressions, but is very difficulty laboured into virtue; so among things of this nature, finding things so unwholesome, and that so commonly, it very easily swallows them, and neglects the other. But among all Books that ever were thought on, those of Knight-Errantry and Shepherdry have been so excellently trivial and naughty, that it would amuse a good judgement to consider into what strange and ●ast absurdities some imaginations have straggled? what odd and needless impossibilities, what ill preservation of Character? what impropriety of actions, the same actions and method perpetually repeated, though in a new dress. The Knight constantly killing the Giant, or it may be whole Squadrons; the Damosel certainly to be relieved just upon the point of ravishing, a little child carried away out of his cradle, after some twenty years discovered to be the Son of some great Prince; a Girl after seven years wand'ring and cohabiting, and being stole, confirmed to be a Virgin, either by a Panterb, Fire, or a Fountain: and lastly all ending in marriage, and that all of a day, and in the same place; where to make up the number, some body must be fresh discovered, some suddenly change their affections, and others rise as it were from the dead.  
These are the noble entertainments of Books of this kind, which how profitable they are, you may judge; how pernicious, 'tis easily seen, if they meet but with an intentive Melancholy, and a spirit apt to be overborne by such follies. Such a one was our LYSIS, who is here presented, one that thought their Sottises, examples of life, and those other impertinent circumstances which they bring, producible into present practice. And therefore by imitating them, he hath amass; d together a number of the most considerable follies that ever were seen; such a one hath our Author made him, and that very justly, since all the Fooleries of all Men and Books of this nature, he hath arraigned and convicted in this one Person, and this one Book, with a design, not only judicious enough, but also profitably pleasant. For while he brings on the stage their fooleries, though with better judgement and nobler invention than ever they were before, he brings them withal so habited, that it will not be easy for any sober mind to be further enamoured of them. Besides that, considering how pleasant such kind of trash is, and what heads and hands it entertains, it must needs be acknowledged a courtesy to bring any thing that may scourge and banish it out of estimation. But because our Author treads cross to such a multitude, and is so over-voyced; and for that the curious and judicious may upon the first thoughts misconceive of some passages, and the ignorant draw them into some absurdities, I shall for their sakes take the pains, out of what himself hath more largely said, and what I shall think fit to add, to give this account for him in his vindication.  
To insist on all particulars, were to make one book upon another; and to be importunate at least to those, who in this fruitful age of Poets and Romances, must needs be acquainted wherein consist the flowers and ornaments of those excellent works, and would too much discover the nakedness of those mighty Champions of the Pe●, who when they have done all they can, are as unprofitable in the Commonwealth, as so many Vermin in a Warren. And yet they think it an injury, if they are not called Wits, as if it were as proper for the people to speak of them with the attributes of Wit, Ingenuity and Learnedness, as they do by that of Worship to a Justice of Peace, and expect that adoration and reverence which was anciently paid to Orators and Philosophers. But since there are withal in the world a many excellent men, who make a Recreation, and not a profession of Writing, a more particular censure will be more becoming; and since the quarrel I am engaged as to the other, is with their works, and not with their persons, I shall forbear to bring them into further contempt, and not envy them the acclamations of the besotted populacy, since I perceive they are so obstinate, as to be more taken with the extravagancies of those men, then with any thing relative to the public good, or the conduct of humane life.  
The first thing I shall note, is, the transportation of our Shepherd, while he contemplates those excellent Relics he had gathered of his Mistresses. This, it may be, may seem ridiculous, and such a stupidity as could not fall into the mind of man, however transported by his own imaginations. If I produce as ridiculous in the more serious and admired Authors, shall it be taken for good payment? Lopa de Vega in his Pilgrim, brings Pamphilius and Nisa into Bedlam (their extravagancies having been such, that they were taken for mad) where Nisa finds no presents for her Pamphilius, but that which the floor afforded, dust, dirt, straws, and the like, wherewith yet he embroidered his clothes, as if they had been precious stones or feathers. Were they not worthily disposed where they were? if this be not as extravagant as our Lysis, I know not what is. The Author of the History of Lysander and Calista, hath as good stories; alas, Lovers put another value on things then other men; and that Knight in Astraea, who falling in love with a Lady whom he had detained in chains (being disguised in Man's clothes) passed his time afterward in kissing and courting the chains, and wearing them about his neck, never putting them off but when he went abroad, I think is one may well shake hands with Lysis.  
That he thinks the Stars living creatures, is not so strange a Philosophy, as that of those who maintain they feed on the vapours of the earth and the sea. If you will not believe him, believe Ronsard in his hymns, who says, they feed in the Plains of Heaven all night, and in the morning the Daystar (who is the Keeper) brings them together, tells them over, and drives them for all day into the shade.  
As for Adrian's Relation, 'tis natural, and such as becomes a man of his quality, who is a dull soft-headed Citizen, not much acquainted with Romances; and the Books he quotes are such as he understands, that is, such as children go to school withal. And for his name, it becomes him better than to call him Lucidorus, or P●lemarchus; names very fit, are they not, for a Tradesman?  
As for Lysis' demanding of Verses of the Country-Shepherd, he that knows any thing of Romances, knows how familiar it is there to have Shepherds answer one another in Verses, and the Authors make whom they please excellent extemporary Poets. As for his description of his Mistress' beauty, he is not the only man hath given such extravagant power to the eyes of a Beauty. Ask La Roque: 
Since 'tis decreed that fire shall surprise  
This world, it must be that of your fair Eyes.  a prophaner expression by much than that of Lysis.  
And now he comes to the Dialogue with the Echo: Which because it hath been a general Ornament in all Love-stories and Books of Shepherdry, and is withal such a gross impertinence, our Remark on it shall be so much the larger. The Pastorals of Julietta are pestered with them, though far-fetched: Nay, the witty Erasmus hath not in this been very fortunate; otherwise why should the Echo answer in Greek, when she was spoken to in Latin? 'Tis as if a man should ask her somewhat in English, and she should answer in Welsh or Irish. But to forgive that, when a man hath spoken ten or twelve lines, how can she answer all in one word? But of all the Composers of Echoes that ever were, a Gentleman of our own Country, and an Author, hath been so fortunate, that he hath brought two or three hundred into the compass of one sheet of paper, and his Conceits are withal incomprehensible: I have heard some say of them, that had they been to find out so many, they might have worn out ten Dictionaries to find out the rhymes. But what our Author says in defence of himself is, that all the wonder in his was, that it was Lysis' good fortune to light on things, that Anselm could either answer or rhyme to with some sense.  
But for the discourses of Anselm concerning the Echo, I may say they are no ordinary invention. I could make long Remarks on the Pantomimes, which were a sort of people of old that counterfeited the cry birds and beasts. Parmeno counterfeited the grunting of a Pig so excellently well, that it became a Proverb: so that when another Actor brought a real Pig under his cloak upon the stage, and made it grunt, yet the people cried out, that was not Parmeno's Pig; whereupon he showed them the Pig, to convince them Parmeno could do no better. This story, as it well discovers the foolishness and obstinacy of prepossessed minds, so was it a sit example for Anselm, speaking of the Echo, which they say imitates all voices.  
The Echo which is made of Conduits of congealed air, is an Invention in the Steganography of Beroaldus, but much advanced and cleared up by Anselm.  
Nor is his discourse of the Destinies less admirable. There is an Italian Dialogue between Life and Death, speaking as if they were the two Destinies; and that when one hath perfected the web of a man's life, the other cuts it off. This hath more wit than that of the Ancients.  
Nor are Lysis' descriptions of his Mistress' beauty so extravagant, but I can easily match them. A certain poor man had a daughter; yet if her Beauty were truly considered, he might be said to be a very rich man; for in her face he possessed Diamonds, Rubies, Coral and Pearl. This is an Imagination in one of the Nowelles. But is it not enough to say, Lips are of Coral, and so of the rest, but it must be said they can enrich a body? If this poor man wanted any thing, he must pull out one of his daughter's Eyes, or cut off her Lip, and carry it to the Goldsmiths.  
This observation of his Mistress' colour is in Lysis extraordinary, and argues his invention. 'Tis true, the Turks bear a great respect to Green; Mahomet's Turban was of it, and it is now a prerogative of those only of that race; and if any be to be punished, for some crime, the Turban is first taken off as sacred. But the reason why Lysis hates the Turks, is, because they know nothing of Romances and a Shepherd's life.  
That he calls the Kitchenmaid Goddess of the Pottage-pot, it rubs the ancient stupidity, especially that of the Romans, who put their Gods to all the offices and services they had to do. They had a Cloacina, which we may call Scavangera, or the Goddess of the Common-shores. There were no less than three Gods about one Cradle; one kept the Child from crying, another rocked the Cradle, a third looked to the Woman's breasts.  
Now we come to the day of Judgement at S. Cloud. The examples of this kind are infinite. When London-Bridge was afire, the Countrypeople that saw it afar off, thought the world was at an end, and that it began to burn at this great City, where more iniquity had been committed then elsewhere. The day of Judgement hath been so often foretold both by Ministers and Astrologers, that many now believe there will not be any at all. A certain rich man in Leicester-shire, upon the reading of an Almanac, bestowed between his friends and the poor all he had, and came afterwards to beg his bread. Nay, such was the stupidity of Mankind, that even in the first Ages there wanted not Enthusiasts to amuse the people. Every persecuting Emperor was thought to be Antichrist; nay, the Fathers were not much more resolute in this point than others. But I have no mind to show my reading here of that, nor yet to advance the divers opinions have been held of the end of the world.  
Montvalerian is a place near St. Cloud, where live six Hermit's. This I tell you, because the Author of Lysander and Calista says, that when their Majesties went to see one of them, who had not been seen in 48 years, he also saw him, and Lysander lived with him afterwards in his Cell.  
But the people of St. Cloud are beholding to Lysis and his Poets, at least were they not the next morning? If a Lover should say he burned in midwinter, would not a simple man think he were in a fever? If he should say he were on the rack, and that that Fiend Love fed on his heart, as the Vulture did on that of Prometheus, would not a sober man unacquainted with Poetry think his meaning were that he was damned in this life?  
The Pastorals of Leon, the River Ezla, and the Shepherd Sirenus have had for their Celebrator George of Montemajor, of which book anon.  
Those of Vesper, Lysis contemns, as representing things with too much probability, as Countrypeople may love now; but he is for Cyrenus, Celadon, and those other illustrious Shepherds.  
As for Lysis' dismission of the Rout, it's an humour clashes not with his extravagance; for mad as he was, he remembered that now being entered into the condition of a Shepherd, he was to live peaceably with all men, and consequently not to be transported so far by passion as to give one blow for another.  
And thus much by way of Remark on the first Book, wherein I have been the larger, because I would show how much more I might have said in justification of my Author. In the rest I shall confine myself to the most considerable heads: And so I pass to the  

Second BOOK.  
Lysis' contempt of good Books, shows he esteems all pedantry that is not Romantic; and for his meeting with the Satire, 'tis an humour any one almost of his Authors could have furnished him with.  
But the chiefest matter of this Book, is that of the Metaphorical Picture, which he had given directions for in the first. The descriptions of Beauty have been such as Lysis mentions, ever since there were any Poets in the world; and it should seem to be their chiefest study and emulation to describe it the more extravagantly, and the more fantastically. But the grand foolery is, that when they have described their Beauties with Suns, Coral, Diamonds, Ivory, etc. they cannot let alone poor innocent women that have but flesh and blood. But as for the Picture, you must needs think it was much more noble when it was in colours, as Anselm had done it: the particulars explain themselves.  
In the discourse between Anselmes and Montenor, I shall quote one thing as to the Language. Antitheses and Contrarieties are mighty ornaments; as to say, Love is a pleasure full of sadness; a torment full of delight; a despairing hope, and a hoping despair: I think what Montenor says is more gentle, If Love be a poison, 'tis a pleasant one; if a disquiet, 'tis desirable; if a death, peaceable; if a prison, there wants only liberty, and misery reigns not there as in others. Is not this better said, then to say that Love is a free prison, and an incarcerated liberty? But these things I shall leave to the observation of the Reader.  
'Tis not the sea makes women more or less virtuous or perfect, nor yet more vicious; but to the latter, the perseverance and iteration of men's temptations have contributed much, since it is the knowledge of all things beget the desire of them. All that I have to say, is, that the Poets who idolise them with all the attributes of Divinity, are also those that load them with all the calumny possible. A Poet shall deify a Tripe-woman if she be his Mistress; but though she be never so handsome, if she be withal disdainful, Bear, Serpent, Viper, Wasps, Fiends, is not language fit to describe her.  
As for the humour of the difference between Montenor and Anselm, whereof Lysis is Judge, 'tis ordinary in Love-stories, and 'tis the Ore of the Golden-Age, when the first man met was the Judge of all controversies. All the proceedings in this have very good Authors, but it is not to much purpose to quote them here.  
As for Lysis' Serenade, his Letter, and all the circumstances of it, other Lovers have done things of the like nature, and therefore I pass them over. But as for the Letter, I must do him right, it was his own as to the composure; but for the expressions, his Countrymen Ronsard, Mar●●, and others, could have furnished him with much more extravagant and greater contradictions: but Lysis' compliments came ever out of his Common-places; for he bore such a reverence to those good Authors, that he chose rather to deliver himself in their language then in his own. I heard of a Country-Gentleman, that having bought the Academy of Compliments, came to court his Mistress, where after he had passed his Compliment, he wondered she did not answer him as it was in the Book. The next time he came to London he bought one for her, that so she might be able to continue the Dialogue with him.  
As for Lysis, who would light the candle at his Mistress' eyes, 'tis not more then Poetical; all his conceptions about the flies, the trees growing, etc. betray his reading to him that knows any thing.  
As for the burning of his hat, he might easily believe it was his Mistress did it; for besides his acquaintance with the Poets, some Historians have delivered, that fire hath issued out of the heads of divers people, as Luvy says of Ser. Tulli●s, and Cardan of a friend of his: why might not Lysis think his Mistress could do as much as any of them?  
Lysis' dream is nothing extraordinary, and his discourses and actions thereupon speak him not so extravagant as some other Lovers have been; but above all things it is to be observed, that let him do what he can, he still comes short of his Masters the Poets.  
But his calling his Mistress the Beauty of Beauties, is his own, 'tis a little vulgar, yet few consider it expresses not what they intent; and that that expression is only proper in this, The King of Kings; that is to say, a King that governs other Kings, but the beauty of Beauties signifies but a Beauty: So the Romance of Romances, or the Shepherd of Shepherds; nay, rather it signifies a Beauty that belongs to other Beauties, which is contrary to our intention: This is called Gallimathias.  
The heaviness and weight of Lysis' heart must needs be great, because he is no ordinary Lover.  
The considerations of Lysis' departure, and of Charite's, are such as could be wished. The sad Tyrcis is he in Astraea, that would love none but his Cleon, though she were dead. Basilias is the celebrated King of the Countess of Pembrokes Arcadia, a Country so happy, that Jupiter is the Protector of it, and the Gods come down and live there familiarly among men. This is he that goes into the desert with his wife and daughters, having learned by the Oracle, that a Son in Law of his should take away his Kingdom from him; and is like him that killed himself for fear of death.   

The Third BOOK  
PResents us with that pleasant sally of Lysis at the Playhouse, where he took all things for real; his desire to be acquainted with some of his own Profession might easily transport him so far. And that at the Painters, tells us he was one of those who imagine others can think of nothing but them. But I hasten to the Banquet of the Gods, which takes up the best part of this Book. My Author hath been somewhat large on the several particulars of that relation; which I conceive he hath done not only to show he hath done these Divinities no injury, nor said any thing of them which some Poet hath not before hinted, but also to acquaint the world, that after the reading of his Banquet, and what he hath said on it, whoever shall quote any of these buffled Divinities, shall be taken for no wiser than those who sometimes adored them, and shall thenceforward forfeit is wit.  
There are in the beginning five reasons of the Dew. The Poets had in a manner but one, and that was, that it was the terms of Aurora, yet can they not truly tell us why this Aurora should shed tears thus every day. But they say it was for the death of her son Memnon. What a pitiful Divinity is this, to weep ever since the war of Troy, where this Memnon was killed? But who sees not this s●lly shift? If a Prince or Nobleman die, Aurora must weep as if she were one of his friends, or mourn for him. Clarimonds' imaginations are far beyond this, especially the last, where he says it is that the horses of the Sun shake their mains as they come out of the sea.  
Why may not the Sun be thought to make use of a Nightcap, since he wants rest sometimes as much as ever did Hobson the Carrier.  
But for Jupiter's hearing from his Palace the addresses of men, I refer you to Luqian, who says that when he had a mind to hear their prayers, he opens certain holes, and listened and when he was weary shut them again.  
Juno's avarice, and Pallas' divers professions are such as the Poets have attributed to them. But that Invention of the God's Linen is Clarimond's; there was never any Poet could tell us what became of the thread of men's lives. Cupid must needs be treated as a Child, since the Poets say he was hardly able to draw the curtains of his mother's bed when she lay with Mars, which is that made Vulcan so jealous of Mercury, whom the Poets have made a fine example for men to instruct them in cheats and rogueries; and his discourse to Charon is as like that of a crafty Mountebank as can be. But where he is troubled that he cannot find some Gods he was to invite, I cannot omit a fiction of Ariosto's, an Angel, wanting Silence to bring an Army upon some enterprise without noise, went to look for her in those places where it is forbidden to speak, as in Monasteries; but there he finds Discord with her black and grey hair, which seemed to fight one with another: Her hands were full of Chancery-Bills and Law-writings, and she had about her an Army of Councillors and Solicitors; she sat also Precedent at a Chapter, when the Monks being on the election of a Prior, divide into such factions, that the Breviaries do mighty execution on the bald pates. What need had this malicious Poet thus to abuse the Monks, who are not all naught, and to scandalise a Religion he had before defended? But what a simple Angel hath he pitched on, that was to seek what he knew not where to find? 'Tis an abuse of those divine Spirits, and him whose Agents they are.  
Vulcan was the fittest for the Kitchen, as being always nearest the fire. Nor was Pythagonas less for the sauces, since he was the best acquainted with herbs and fruits. And what is said of him and the other Philosophers, is home to their Tenets.  
The Raillery which follows along is obvious, as that of taking down the Signs by Brontes and Pyragmon, who are Vulcan's Kitchen-boys; the divers entries of the Gods: That Aesculapius is Physician; the Gods had need of one ever since Homer affirmed they might be hurt or sick. The Arms of the Gods, may make us laugh at their Statues.  
'Tis Fate makes Terminus eat, that is, what he hath decreed must come to pass, and 'tis he only hath the key of his padlock. Priapus and Venus are well seated together. But that Jupiter should fall so heartily to the Souls, is not without reason, since some Philosophers have held, that all souls were reunited in the soul of the world, which they held to be Jupiter. But as the Gods live only on souls and idaa's so have I seen a Banquet of Poets, and their food was the vowels in a Verse which are cut off and not pronounced.  
The drunkenness of the Gods is to be laid on their score, who have furnished them with all other vices.  
The scuffle between the Pedees' and the Pages about the wing of the soul of a Turkey, is to show that those souls had the forms of bodies, and are dispersed into all parts of the body to exercise their functions.  
As for the Signs of Heaven, I quarrel not with their names, because I have nothing to say to the Astrologers, though they have not the images of those beasts by whose names they call them. But why should our Poets build their fables on them, and so fill Heaven with Adulteries and other crimes? Du Bartas and others, to take away the memory of those villainies, would needs change the fable into a sacred story, saying the Lion belongs to Samson, the Ship to Noa●'s Ark, Taurus to S. Luke, and Virgo and Via lactea to the Virgin Mary, etc. but they cannot carry out the humour.  
There was no such way to abuse the odd personages which the Poets attribute to the Gods, as that of the latter band of Gods; and we must never more speak any otherwise then abusively of them all, as my Author does.  
I know I have omitted divers things which deserve to be taken notice of: For there is not any passage in this Banquet which hath not a secret grace, besides that it contains the whole story of all the ancient fables, and that digested into a natural order. Lucian in his Dialogues may have somewhat of this humour, but he is imperfect; and it was his design to deny the eternal Providence, which is not taken away with the loss of those names he quarrels with.  
That's no less subtle attack to the Fables, of Montenor's, as to the confusion of them. If Phaeton and his Father, as they say, fell into the River Eridan, why do they not tell us how they got out again? But there's no less inconvenience, if we say that that Torch of the Day is fastened to the Chariot of Phoebus; for Ovid says the Chariot was broke all to pieces.  
That there is as much morality in ROBERT the Devil, as in the story of Hercules, is certain; for that was a sturdy fellow, and Mythology hath a great latitude, for a wicked man may be made virtuous. If one man kill another, the meaning is, the victory of the wise man over the passions; and so of the rest.  
Natalis Comes hath pestered us with his Mythologies; and for his Genealogies of the Gods they are so various, that every one hath three or four fathers. Mr. Ross hath gone beyond him, and hath defiled the Sacred history with the ordure and filth of Heathen fables.  
Lysis' descriptions of Beauty, being by him spoken seriously, are an open abuse to the Poets, whose disciple he is. Nor is he less himself, where he proposes that every one should relate his story. And for his discourse with Charite, considering what he is, and what she is, it is very natural. What would a simple Country-Lass say, if a man said she had hurt him, but ask whether she had pricked him, or scratched him? But Lysis had learned out of his Romances, that a Lover ought to speak allusively to somewhat his Mistress had said.  
Clarimond concludes with that saying; That to be happy, a man must be either King or Fool. Wherein he is in the right. Pleasure is not measured by the reality of things, but the imagination of them. There was a Servingman, who would not live with any Master, but upon condition he might have one hour in the day to do what he pleased in his chamber. Having led this life a long time, his Master would needs know how he spent the time. Coming to his chamber-door, he perceived through some chink, his man sat in a chair with a Crown on his head, having before him on the wall a draught of the Pope and Consistory; there did he make a speech for the Pope, and answered it in the name of the Emperor. But the Master discovering himself, the Fool folded up his Picture and went his ways, and was never seen since. Such a one is Lysis, who though he be not stark mad, yet conceives himself happier than an Emperor in his Pastoral and amorous imaginations. But he advances in his Extravagances, and finds my Author work for a   

Fourth BOOK.  
WHerein though in some things he exceed his predecessors, yet in some he shows himself more sober and more rational, as may appear by the discourse about the despair of Lovers, whom he finds in his books to have arrived at that madness, as to have hanged and drowned themselves. But this you must attribute to his good intervals. Clarimond's discourse, and his replies touching Poetry, and his own History, (which he is extremely careful to have come abroad) are not ordinary.  
The Golden Ass is a work of Apuleius; the argument of it stolen out of Lucian, only he hath added the fable of Psyche and some old wives tales. All the excuse I can make for this, is, that haply in his time Lucian's works were very rare, and he was in hope they would have been lost, that so no man might discover the cheat; otherwise certainly he would have acknowledged his Benefactor.  
His explication of Dreams argues his wit and reading: But for what is said of the Muses, and particularly where he says Love stands Sentinel at his bolster, I cannot but admire it. His Song. I can assure you, was set to a very excellent air, but very mournful; the dames of Paris sing it to this day in memory of this famous Shepherd.  
Lysis' song is followed with a notable abuse of the Poets; for they never celebrate the kindness nor the cruelty of their Mistresses, but when some fancy comes into their minds fit to express those qualities, rhyming it seems is such a rack. Lysander calls Calista in his songs, sometimes Hippolita, sometimes Sylvia, which made the Gentlewoman very jealous of his constancy.  
To think a Hermit a Magician, he might haply have had it from Tasso, who in his Jerusalem, makes the Christian Hermits all Magicians, and withal celebrates them for very devout and religious men.  
His coming to Hircans wood, and his considerations there, betray a huge reading, but his thoughts running still on magic, was that made him take Hircan for a Magician, and what he says to confirm him in that opinion, is founded on what the Poets say of the ancient Sorcereffes.  
Armida was a Sorceress that in a minute of an hour, caused a great castle to be built, if you believe Tasso.  
For his disguising himself like a Maid, and his persuasions that he was really one, and was taken for one, 'tis an humour so threadbare in all Books of Shepherdry and Love-stories, that I need say more of it; only I shall note, that it is more probable in Lysis; for Hircan caused him to be trimmed, a thing those Authors thought not on, but putting on other clothes, without any other circumstance they are presently what sex they please.  
As for what is said of the Nymphs, 'tis to abuse those that are such admirers of Antiquity. If they had gone in Greece as people do now in France, we should have had the Nymphs dressed after another mode. And for Fables, why may not we invent as good ones as the Ancients? and why should it be thought ridiculous for us to see the Gods dressed like us, more than the Greeks were to see them habited like them?  
The crime this counterfeit Maid is accused of at Orontes', brings upon the stage the many Trials they had, whereby to know whether a maid or wife had done any thing dishonourable: because in History we find some whose innocency hath been tried certain ways; as the vestal Turia, that being accused of unchastity, carried water in a five from Tiber to her Goddesses Temple, to justify her innocency; therefore the Poets must invent so many ridiculous Fables for the same effect, as if it were nothing to set God a work on miracles at their pleasure, unless if one, for example, be cast into the fire for trial of his innocency, a Pantarb (which is a certain stone which frees from flames) does the work; as you may see in the story of Chariclea in Heliodorus. But the miracle you must conceive, is to be attributed to certain Magical Characters that were graven on the Stone, a very probable Foolery.  
For Lysis' discourse to Charite, let us do the Poets no wrong, he hath it from them. Medusa turned all before her into stones, and Anaxarete was the Mistress of that Iphis that hanged himself at her door. These are hard names, and Charite might take them for abuses.  
Some have not thought there was so much grace in Carmelins speeches; but they are to know, that by Common-places, Lysis meant a sort of Pedantic books, where a man may Alphabetically find somewhat on every thing. And the French Margarites is a book much like the Academy of Compliments, only it hath this excellency withal, that it is good to learn bad French by.  
The statue of Memnon, out of which proceeded an harmonious sound, when smitten by the rays of the Sun, goes near to give me a vomit, I can show a dozen books of good account, that in the Epistles Dedicatory bring in this into comparison: but never was it better applied then by Lysis, when looking up towards the Sun, it made him sneeze.  
For the stone Panthura, I shall note this, That it is a trivial learning to bring comparisons from stones, fishes, herbs, birds, and other as entertain things, which we must take upon Mr. Pliny's credit. The Jesuits in their harangs to the people entertain them much with these similitudes, whereas a man would think, that it were more convincing, to draw them from somewhat familiar to them. The Author of the Abridgement of Long-studities, was a cheat, and fit to be Carmelins' Master.  
Fontenay is a true French name, and there have been Lackeys called Gringalet and Champagn, and why may they not, according to their quality, affront the Callidorus' and the Aristander's of our Romances? The Greeks were not ashamed of their own names as we are, but qnoted them in their: Fables.  
Charite is here called a Chambermaid, a word for the City dames, and meaner sort of Gentry, those of any quality have their Woman, or Waiting-Gentlewoman. But the word now a late hath been extended to the former.  
Lysis takes it not well to be compared to Don-Quixot, for extravagant as he is, he thinks himself wiser than that Knight.  
For his Love-letter, which in French is called Poulet, that is a Pullet, he is the first that ever gave the reason of it, and made the best application of it. Ronsard says, that Love is a Bird, that he hath laid Eggs in his bosom, and that when they are hatched, they'll pray on his heart, and when they have done fly away, if he do not lay Birdlime or nets to catch them, etc. But to satisfy those that know not the reason of the Pullet, that expression rise from the folding of the Love-Letter, much like a bird.  
The Fable of Hero and Leander is one of the ancientest we have, 'twas a sad thing this poor Lover was forced to swim an arm of the sea, almost two mile over, to enjoy his Mistress. I believe it took of some of his courage: if he had had Clarimonds' advice, 'tis likely he had not been drowned.  
As for the ways which Lovers have found out to get their Letters delivered to their Mistresses, though the Romances might have furnished Lysis with choice, yet such a pregnant invention hath he, that he adds to all things.  
Where he says the fruits of the earth ought to be common, it seems he is almost persuaded that he hath already reduced the Golden-Age, wherein the Poets say, there were no enclosures, and men understood not those two words, Mine and Thine.  
If in his swound he would not have Carmelin trouble himself for any water, but make use of his tears, he remembered our unfortunate Prince Edward, who, when his Murderers had after much hard usage, gotten him to a River side, and were going to fetch some water to shave him, so to disguise him the more; Let alone that cold water, says he, here's warmth comes out of my eyes. This indeed was a little Romantic: but Lysis' affliction is so much the further from restoring him to his wits, that it heightens his folly: as we shall see in the   

Fifth BOOK,  
WHere we find him metamorphosed, 'Tis the sad fate of things, that are not understood, to lose much of their grace, and that hath happened to this Book, from those, who being unacquainted with Fables and Metamorphoses, do not find that Satire in this, as in other parts. But I cannot omit what I receive from the Poets touching Aurora, who is the forerunner of the Sun: What necessity had the Ancients to imagine that the Sun must be ushered in by such a Goddess? But then why must she have a Chariot? she had not so far to go, but assoon as she had done her work in heaven in the morning, she might have taken her pleasure with Shafalus on earth. Why do not the Poets clear up these things to us? Virgil says in one place, that the Chariot of this Goddess is drawn by four horses, and in another by two; sometimes they are white, sometimes red, but this I'll reconcile, 'tis to be thought she hath horses of all colours in her Stable.  
But how learned are all Lysis' considerations of the Metamorphoses? and for his being changed into somewhat that might be useful to his Mistress, I think he hath learned it of Bellean, whom I shall make speak so much English.  
O that I were a Looking glass, that I  
Might all her Beauties in myself descry!  
Or that I were a Smock which she might wear,  
Or yet a Washball her white hands to clear;  
Or the Sweet-powder which perfumes the air,  
Or th'envious Veil which makes her seem more fair;  
Or th' Necklace which her skin cannot outvie,  
Or but the Patten of my Deity!  
He that considers his farewells to his friends upon his Metamorphosis, and hath read Ovid, may judge whether were the madder of the two. But that which he says of his hat and clothes, is such an abuse to all hath been said of these matters, that nothing can be added: For either what he says must be true, or else when the Gods were minded to metamorphose any, they must bid them put off their clothes first, or should do it for them; which, what an absurdity it is, I leave any man to judge.  
Nay, such was the blindness of the Ancients, that they believed the Trees of Dodona spoke: but we are to believe there never spoke any Tree in this world, unless it were such a one as Lysis, who tells us why Astrologers and Wizards cannot foresee what shall befall themselves.  
As for Clarimond's subtlety to make him take some sustenance, 'tis admirable. But for the exercises and recreations of the Nymphs and rural Divinities, I might produce whole Odes out of Des Portes and Ronsard, to acquaint you what they were; but take upon my credit, they are such as our Shepherd meets with. For their names, it may be 'twill not be ungrateful to rip up so much ancient sottishness. They had Dryads, whom I take to be Nymphs of Forests; Hamadryads were such men as were changed into Trees; the naiads were the Nymphs that presided over the Waters, and were such as had been changed into Fountains; the Napaeae are the Nymphs of the Flowers, the Oreades of the Mountains, and the Nereids of the Sea.  
I do not tell you what part of Brie Lysis was in, nor where the River Morin begins; 'tis an humour of Ronsard's, to make a long comment on every proper name, which I will not imitate.  
As for the Fable of Morin, I maintain it to be much more ingenious than any thing of Ovid's, or any other Poet.  
Those things which we bring in under the name of Histories, are Fables. Among the Greeks, the word Fable was restrained to those relations that concerned the Gods; History, to the affairs of men: But because a Fable signifies only a narration, and that what they said of their Gods was false, it is come to pass that a Fable signifies that which is false.  
As for the Stories of Synopa and Lucida, and their Metamorphoses, they are ingenious and probable: whereas the Poets can only tells us, that to be metamorphosed into Water, there was no other invention then to weep away, as Ovid says of Biblis. But where Lysis takes away that contrariety of being changed into water, and yet retaining the form of a humane body, which must be composed of watery vapours, he shows nothing escapes him. He had read somewhere what the Magicians say of the apparition of Spirits, viz. that the Terrestrial spirits assume bodies of the vapours of the earth, and the Aquatic of those of the water.  
What follows concerning the Violin, and the Nymphs who denied Diana the Sweetmeats, all is natural, and their punishment too. For the latter, certainly 'tis as easy for the Gods to make Trees bear fruit preserved, as to change men into Trees: And if my Author had said that the Cypress into which the Violin was changed, bore Fiddles and Violins ready made, it had been as probable. These stories we are beholding to Clarimond for; who seeing the Greek Poets had invented Metamorphoses for the Fountains and Rivers of their Country, would do the like to the honour of Brie: but the truth is, he is gone far beyond them.  
Carmelin's Questions to his Master, give him occasion to clear up the ancient Fables, wherein 'tis wonderful to see how well he is read.  
I know not whether the Gum of the Tree Lysis be well taken; yet 'twas a particularity could not be omitted: His mind ran then upon Myrrah, and the Sisters of Phaeton, who weep Amber. However it be, the story of the Excrement in B●●clay's Argenis is as bad, upon which too there is an Ode.  
At the second rencontre with the Rural Divinities, I note Lysis' abuse of the Gods and Nymphs for offering to run away for fear of mortals. The Ancients might have made that question to those that talked of so many Gods, which no man could ever perceive.  
Carmelin's speech to the Nymphs is nothing but a sort of contradictions. Ronsard and other Poets have thought them mighty ornaments; for Carmelin is one that in this case is no Author, I assure you.  
I do not observe Lysis' reading fail him, till I come to the bathing of Carmelin: And I wonder at it; for Ronsard could have taught him what ceremonies were required to make a Mortal fit for a celestial conversation. He had forgot that the Ancients washed themselves before they consulted the Oracle, as also the Victims when they sacrificed; and that Magicians bathe themselves in running-water, before they fall to their conjurations.  
Certainly Lysis must needs be troubled not to find his Tree; yet must he needs play the Tree, till Hircan, with the help of Agrippa, conjured him into a Man again The apparition of the Winds hath nothing in it fantastic, compared with what the Poets say of them. That Lysis believed Hircan more powerful than the Gods, it shows him to be of the Creed of the Ancients, who believed the Gods were subject to the charms of Magicians; and that when the Moon was eclipsed, it was some Sorceress had forced her from heaven.  
Thus have we seen Lysis changed into a Tree, and the Tree into Lysis again. We are now to see how he behaves himself in the   

Sixth BOOK.  
WHich begins with Lysis' moral learning. The pains he takes to find out Carmelin, speaks his good nature. But to arrest the Nymphs that stole this poor fellows hat, Lysis tells him he must have a celestial Sergeant, such as Mercury; and he is in the right: for he is the Apparitor of heaven; 'tis he that carries the souls to the prisons of hell; 'tis he that summons the inferior Deities to appear before Jupiter; and when Venus had once lost her son, 'twas he that cried him all over the world. You see Lysis understands the offices of the very Gods.  
Carmelin's being out of his lesson, argues he is no great Clerk; but Anselm reconciling him and his master, saying that Love who is Master of all Arts, will teach him to do better another time, and to that end quoted a discourse out of a certain Book. The discourse is somewhat long; yet since I conceive it may be pleasant to some, I shall take the pains to put it down here. 'Tis in the travels of Aristeus and Amaryllis.  
Among all that have spoken of the ●nature Love, there is none hath better described it then the divine Plato, who calls it Pandidascala; that is to say, Master of all Arts, for there is no Art nor Science which he teaches not his Scholars. In the first place he teaches them Grammar, and the eight parts of speech, beginning with the noun or name of the beloved, and then the pronown of their good Qualities, which he makes them repeat often. Thence he passes to the Adverbs of the infinite time of their perseverance, and those of the swearing of their fidelity. Then he makes them understand the active and passive verbs, acting and suffering all things for the Beloved's sake. Then he teaches them the Participle, by which they must divide and part between them the good and the bad, the thorns and the roses, the pleasures and the torments of this life. From thence he proceeds to the Conjunction and conformity of their honest desires, to the virtuous affections of the beloved, which brings in the Preposition, teaching thereby to prefer the pleasure and satisfaction of the beloved, before their own; and lastly, he teaches them the sad and sorrowing Interjections, full of pitiful Alas'; and interrupted by sighs.  
When the Lover is become a perfect Grammarian, his Tutor Love ' prefers him to Rhetoric, which helps him to a many eloquent speeches, sometimes in the Demonstrative kind, remonstrating to his beloved how much he suffers for her sake; sometimes in the Deliberative, resolving rather to die, then change his affection; sometimes in the Judicial, beseeching his beloved to think him worthy of a reciprocal love.  
The Lover having gone through Rhetoric, Love brings him into Logic, attended with her ten Predicaments; that is to say, the substance of his heart, really converted into that of his beloved; the quantity of his sigh, the quality of his affection, which ought to be pure and innocent; the relation between his soul and his Beloved's; the action of his mind, the passion of his heart, the time of his sufferings, the place of his repose, which is the heart of his beloved; the situation of his desires, upon the firm rock of Constancy; and lastly, he shows of what colours his habit should be; that is to say, grey and white, to intimate unto him, that he must suffer all things to approve his integrity and his faith. Having gone so far, he teaches him to crack an Argument, but his Syllogisms must for the most part be in Barbara, Ferio and Frisesomorum, enduring all barbarous torments, all furious assaults, and all frowning and frosty returns, though it were in the heart of his summer. But at length he must conclude all his Arguments in Celantes, for he must conceal all things.  
Logic being attained, he brings him into the eight books of Physics, showing him first the three natural Principles; which are, the matter of the Lover's faith, the form of the Beloved's virtue's, and the privation of the satisfactions of Love. This done, he advances to the second Book, which treats of the four causes of his passion; the material, which is no other than his own natural inclination; the formal; an inflamed desire of the thing loved; the efficient, the attractions, favours and goodness of the Beloved I and the final, her virtue and her honour. Out of this he passes into the third, which treats of the perpetual motion of the Lover's heart, by which it moves, sometimes suddenly to the service of his Beloved, sometimes slowly as it were from enjoyment to privation, from joy to sadness, and from rest to labour. This done, he steps into the fourth, where he shows him the infinitum of his sufferings, the concentric place where his heart ought to be; that is, the Beloved: the vacuum of his sonl exhausted of all pleasures, and the time of his affection, which is perpetual. This being dispatched, this excellent Doctor leads him into the fifth book, which treats of the generation of his noble and generous thoughts, his chaste intentions, and his honest designs, and the corruption of all his impure desires, and irregular affections. Thence does he bring him to understand the nature of mixed bodies, which are the matter of the sixth book, where he learns what causes the piercing thunder of his complaints, the interlaced clouds of the vapours of his sadness; the blustering winds and tempests of his sighs, and the plentiful showers and dews of his Tears. Thence he advances to the seventh book, where he finds that the earth is nothing else but his constancy. The water his tears, the air his sighs, and the fire his desires; the Moon, his want of Resolution, Mercury his enchanting Remonstrances and Addresses, Venus his mild Disposition, the Sun his Virtue, Mars his Courage, Jupiter his Discretion, Saturn his Judgement; the Firmament his Constancy, the Empyraean Heaven, the Purity of his affection, and the primum mobile his virtuous love. And lastly, he finishes his course of Physics▪ with the eight Book, where he contemplates the excellency of a soul that's perfectly loved with a noble and consummate affection.  
When the Lover is become a good Philosopher, Love instructs him in the Mathematics: first he shows him Arithmetic, and the four principal parts of it; that is to say, the Addition of present to past sufferings, the Substraction of dishonest entertainments, the Division of his compliant mind from itself, and the Multiplication of the pains he takes night and day. Thence he Screws him 〈◊〉 Music, teaching what an harmonious compliance is expected from him, by the Diapason, which is composed of three Notes, whereof the lowest is Cosistancy, the next Patience, and the highest Fidelity. In this musical Love, the rests are very frequent, and very sweet, sharpes there are none at all. When he is Master of Music, Love shows him the Dimensions of Geometry; that is to say, the profundity of his services and submissions, the height of his imaginations, the breadth of his hopes, and the length of his perseverance. To make him an ginger requires but little time, showing him the course of the Sun, in the sphere of his heart; and his Eclipse upon the Horizon of his eyes, whose effects are sad and rusul; and that so much the more, as other malignant constelations, contrary influences, and cross aspects of the stars shall contribute thereto.  
The Mathematics well understood, he brings the Lover into the study of Physic, teaching him to let blood, and open the veins of the heart, and thence to draw the blood through the eyes, and to make a Diet of the ptesence of his beloved, if need be.  
From hence he ascends to the Civil Law, and her three general Precepts; and that teaches him to live honestly with his beloved; not to offend her any way, and to bear her all the respect, and render all the services he can.  
Being arrived to this perfection, he must needs learn Navagation, and embark himself into the sea of his Tears, being at the mercy of the winds of his sighs, under the conduct of the North-star of his Loyalty. Lastly, he instructs him in the Art Military, showing him how he must by main force carry the fort of the heart of his Beloved, sometimes with the assistance of the fire of a pricking passion, sometimes by the water of his tears, sometimes by the mines of his sighs, sometimes by the assault of a vehement grief, or at least annoying the besieged place by a patient perseverance; and when it is once Delivered up, he teaches the Lover how to keep it with Modesty, Discretion, Honour and Virtue.  
Now do I think I have obliged two sorts of people, the judicious, by furnishing them with matter of sport, and the weak with matter of entertainment. Besides that, I am put in hopes that if some young Scholar's chance to read this, they will take it for an Encuclopaedia, for it will mightily rub up their memories. But I pray what is there in all this, which a man would not decisively attribute to a Grammarian or a Pedant? yet the Author is very serious in it. There is another book▪ called Love's Philosophy, much pestered with the like stuff. But I wonder this man doth not make Love teach his disciples all Trades and Professions, since he is equally Master of them as the other.  
But to return to Lysis, who would bring in a new Astrology, directing all to his Mistress, yet not so pernicious as what the Poets say of theirs. For they say, they are come down from heaven to conquer all the world, and raise themselves Altars; nay, those conceptions which bring with them the most eminent Atheism and Idolatry, are ever the best with them. But for Carmelin, he's not the only ignorant man that made Almanacs: which makes true what Machiavelli says, that as long as there it one that can deceive, there will be one to be deceived.  
But Lysis' constant text is the Golden Age: yet whatsoever he says as extravagant, his Authors the Poets say as much. Ronsard says, 
Then shall the Honey from the tall Oaks flow,  
And Damask-Roses shall on Ashes grow:  
The R●m, that sturdy Emperor of th' Down,  
Shall march before us in a Scarlet-gown, etc.   
What needs this? are not Roses as good, if they grow as they do? But Clarimond hath sufficiently ripped up these absurdities. But it were enough to confute the Golden Age, to consider the Celebrators of it, the Poets, who of all men the most complain of want; and 'tis they that preach up Community, because they have nothing of their own.  
Clarimond with much reason studies the Reformation of Fables, since we must be troubled with them; as for example, that Fable of Cupid, who might better carry a Pistol then Bow and Arrows.  
The next thing is the indiscreet curiosity of Lysis, in opening the Box wherein he thought the Echo was; but his comparing himself to Pandora, Aglaura, and Psyche, is that which brings with it such a mass of fables, that I am weary of repeating the absurdities of them.  
Lysis' conformities are very remarkable, yet he wants not precedents; for they say that a Lover must ever be sick of his Mistress' disease: and for his Picture being in her blood, it comes from the same forge. His discourse upon the music made by Carmelin and the other Shepherd, is much like the Corollaries which the Poets have at the end of their Ecclogues, which he says he'll one day make them recite ●x tempore.  
The rencontre of Philiris and the other Shepherds, is certainly Romantic and Poetic enough. All I have to say, is, that their conceptions are far neater than the Authors they imitate.  
Lysis says, Daphne and Syrinx were changed one into a Laurel, the other into a Reed, for having slighted the love of the Gods; though some say it was to keep their maidenheads, for the Gods had a greater lechery to maids then married women. But no Poet hath yet made us understand whether the Metamorphosis were a pleasure or a torment.  
Lysis certainly hath a great opinion of himself, since he says that Fame is grown hoarse by celebrating what he hath done already. But he'll still find her more work; and so I pass with him to the   

Seventh BOOK.  
WHich after other things comes to the Metamorphosis of Parthenie●, which brings Lysis and his Companions into excellent considerations; and among others to that of the Stone which Virgil says Turnus cast as Aenaeas, which was so massy, that twelve men of his time could not lift it. Nor is the humour of the Goat's blood that softens the Adamant any better: For those Lovers who threaten to kill themselves, to soften the Adamantine hearts of their Mistresses, consider not that they compare themselves to the most nasty and most ●●inking among the fourfooted Beasts.  
But I cannot but take notice of Lysis' inventions in the Metamorphosis, and besides his judgement far beyond the Poets; for they never give any reason of their Metamorphoses, it being the most absurd thing in the world to advance things, even in fictions, which defy probability. As for example, Polyphemus being jealous to have seen Acis with Galathea, cast a great piece of a Rock at him, with which he was forced into the ground; but his Mistress and the Nymphs changed him into a River. Should they not rather have succoured him? But now I had rather suppose a man changed into water by an extraordinary sweat, through some violent exercise or sickness, or by distillation. Yet Carmelin unacquainted with the Poets, cannot swallow that Metamorphosis; for Des Portes would have taught him, that the tears of a Poet are a certain water distilled from the Roses, Lilies, and other flowers of his Mistress' beauty; his Love is the fire, his Heart the furnace, and his Eye the beak of the Alambick, and his Sighs are the bellows. I think Lysis' proposition to Carmelin is not more extravagant than what this Poet says; only I think fit Carmelin's nose be the beak of the Alambick, that so the water may be preserved for the use of decayed Ladies.  
I hope the Poets will pardon Lysis' course to multiply Carmelin's water. Ocyro was changed into a Mare, for presuming to be a Prophetess. This is impertinent enough; for what relation is there between a Prophetess and a Mare? But that the hinder part of her gown should be changed into a tail, is yet more: I wonder, if she had had no clothes on, whether she had been without a tail. Therefore I think Carmelin, simple as he is, more discreet than all the Poets: for where his Master tells him, that when he is changed into water, he shall see the Divinities naked, he asks where will be his eyes and other members? Honest Ovid says, that Cyana being to relate to Ceres the carrying away of her daughter, could not do it, because being changed into water, she had neither tongue nor mouth. And yet in the next fable, Arethusa who had run the same fortune, lifted up her head above her waves, and related all her ancient adventures. This is enough to show how far the Poets presume upon the ignorance of the people, who must receive what they bring, be it ever so absurd.  
As for Lysis' rural Temple, which he would build to Charite, Des Portes will needs build one for his Goddess; where his Eye shall be the Lamp, his Body the Altar, his Sighs his Vows, and he will sing a daily office: provided his Mistress gave him a good fat Parsonage; for this Poet was a beneficed man. His avarice might be pardoned, but not his idolatry.  
I shall pass to Clarimond's reconciliation of the Metamorphoses; and that of the Raven I like above any. In like manner a man may with some probability say, that a Soldier having a head-piece and boots and spurs on, may be changed into a Cock. But Ovid troubled not himself with any consideration of probability.  
The History of Fontenay hath much conduct and judgement in it. As for the particulars, I shall not comment on them: It represents a sort of old Romances, which brought Magicians, Sorceresses, and their Miracles on the Stage, but without that probability which Fontenay observes. As for instance, that he loved himself, he gives you this reason, that he was of a solitary and melancholic disposition, and 'tis withal natural for such a Complexion to consult Sorceries.  
For Lysis' changing his place, to receive the air which came from Charite, 'tis neither too amorous, nor too poetic: I shall quote but one authority, and that is Ronsard; who says, that being at a great distance from Paris, on a mountain, he sucked in the air that came from that great City where his Mistress was, which did extremely enliven him.  
As for the History of Philiris, the naturalness of it is extraordinary, and the passion he is in for this last Mistress, after he had neglected so many, keeps within its bounds; he is content to wish a picture of her as she was every year since she was born: far from the extravagance of that Courtier, who to testify his love to his M●stress, had caused his own picture to be drawn, which had in the left side a great rent through doublet, shirt, skin and bones, even to the heart, where he had caused his Mistress' Picture to be drawn. And her playing with Dogs and Lambs is as natural, considering her age, which was not yet capable to understand what love was. For Philters and Annulets, our Romances are so pestered with them, that the Authors think they are not perfect without them.  
Where he says, his Mistress shed so many tears as would have made a Channel, that might have born a boat to bring him thither in, 'tis an ordinary Poetical expression, for they weep Rivers, nay Oceans; it shall suffice to quote him, that said, he shed so many tears as would make a sea, wherein his Mistress should sport herself like a Mermaid.  
There are none more ingenious than your Lovers, who whatever they see, apply it to their Mistresses. If they see Roses, they think of their Beauty; if an Oak, it puts them in mind of their stature; bu● to say, that seeing the Moon, a Mistress should also see her at the same time, and that she should carry intelligence between them, 'tis only Philiris that ever imagined it. Pythagoras was a notable fellow, for he made people read in a glass, what was written in the Moon: but alas, the characters were written in blood upon the glass; and thus did he abuse the ignorant, and foretold divers things. But there's a better invention in the Adventures of Florida; Two Lovers had gotten two Sun-dials, but instead of the hours of the day, there was an Alphabet about, and the needles of both being touched by the same stone, moved both together at a distance, and thus did they hold correspondence. But these Dial's coming at last into the hands of the King of Portugal, who giving one of them to a Captain of his that was to go into the Indies, the ship was cast away, and the secret lost.  
Another Lover of our own Country, not being able to brook the absence of his Mistress, bought a Map of London, where it seems she lived, and with great pleasure and satisfaction, viewed that street and quarter of the City where she lived, and so comforted himself.  
Clarimond finds fault with these Histories of Fontenay and Philiris, to find Lysis Discourse. And indeed, he hath some reason to be angry to see the current of all Romances stopped, by finding these two married before the end of the Book.  
As for Lysis' looking into the eyes of Philiris, to see if there were not some representation of Charite, whom he said he had seen; he remembered him who said, his Mistress' eyes were Suns, and that his were two Crystal balls, which receiving their rays in their centre, reflected them on his heart, which by that means was burnt np.   

The Eighth BOOK  
'TIs an ordinary humour in all Romances, that Europeans should be found in Affryca, or Affrycans in Europe, that no man knows how they came thither, nor how they come by the language, only we are to suppose, these judicious Authors will needs have their Adventurers speak languages as well as St. Paul; for let them come where they will, if the language do them any good, they have it infused. But Polidor desirous to reconcile Probability and Romance, tells you his father being a French man, brought him up in the language and fashions of his Country, even in the Court of Persia.  
As for the Lilies, Roses, Fires and precious Stones of a Beauty, Polidor abuses the Poets in their own excellent fancies, yet is not half so extravagant; for whether is madder, he that says that the attractions of a Mistress can draw Rocks? or he that says only, they may draw a Cart out of the mire? and where Polidor says his Mistress' eyes melted the lead in the windows and the gutters, this is nothing to those eyes that can give us light instead of the Sun, and can restore Summer. But yet Polidor made only use of a little whites of eggs against this heat, a secret he had learned of the great Albertus.  
As for his Knives hafted with Remora's teeth, and his Fan of Phoenix feathers; if there be no such things in nature, le's laugh at those that first advanced them. The Remora stops a ship in her course; I'll tell you how this came up. A certain boat ran a ground on a bank of sand, being overturned, the Mariners found this fish stuck to the keel, and so they believed that hindered the boat, and brought it on the sand. As for the Phoenix, the stories of it are so monstrously ridiculous, that out of them I shall only observe the strange sottishness of man's mind, that suffers itself to be carried away by the torrent of tradition, though in things that are in open hostility against all probability. But those that say it is individual, and hath no female, let them consider whether they abuse not God, who for the perpetuation of every species, was content to go the ordinary way of male and female; which he bid multiply.  
The History of Meliantes is also as judicially begun; but yet there want not Authors who tell us, that the Persians live much like the French, and that was it made the Author of Lysander and Calista tell us in Suza there is an Exchange, where are fold Gloves, Muffs, Ribans, Hats, Masks; whereas others tell us there's no Bands, nor Masks, nor Hats worn there, nor are they clad there as we are. Meliantes says he is also come into France to find out Lysis, as well as his companions; this is also an imitation of the Romances, where you find people of the several quarters of the world more strangely brought together, and to less purpose than ours.  
Here we have Hircan turned Conjurer again, to raise up the Cherrytree Nymph, whom he raises by Horta, who was the Goddess of the Gardens. As for Lysis' thinking Amaryllis like Lucid●, these resemblances, and the mistakes that arise thereon, are a great part of our Romances. In the Pastorals of Julietta, Delio, a Knight of Barcelona being gone to the wars, his Mistress Catulla expected him every day; but being at the utmost of despair for him, there comes into the Town a certain Germane that was very like him. Catulla having heard of it, sends her woman to give him directions how to come to her in the night, which was by the help of a ladder of cord. He, though a stranger, yet perceiving the mistake, would needs trust himself to Fortune; but going at his hour appointed, he meets the Watch, draws on them; and after he had killed two, was taken and carried to prison, and the next day condemned. Catulla hearing of this, knew there was no way to save him but to beg him, which she did by her maid. This was a notable resemblance, that could not be discovered all the time: But that which put me on this story is, that custom of begging condemned persons: 'Twas a privilege of common whores, who upon promise of amendment of life, had such as were destined to the gallows bestowed on them. One reason of this is, the affinity of the sins of those people. Besides that, it was thought a work of Charity to put together two bad livers, who repenting, might haply bring forth children full of courage, and honest, fit to people Colonies: And such were the founders of old Rome, a sort of Vagabonds, Highwaymen, Tories and Bandits, who having made a Troop, came afterwards to give Laws to all the world.  
But I come to the famous history of Carmelin, who though an inconsiderable person, yet shall exceed the Romancists. All he says are fancies and hyperboles. For the littleness of his Master, you must note, that the Poets describing a thing, observe less probability; else what meant he that said, That a little man having gotten up on the back of a Pismire, thought himself upon an Elephant, but on a sudden got a fall from it as high as that of Phaeton. For Taupins changing his name, and thinking to grow bigger with it, Carmelin had read some Romance, where he found a Giant called Nagibuscantropocara, a name proportionable to his body. There was a certain Roman, who besides the making of his clothes too big, as Taupin did, would not eat of any small creature, lest it should make him little like what he eat, and that made him love Beef better than Partridge. His sauce was made of Pompions, but for Pease and beans he could not endure the sight of them. This was a little beyond ours.  
Carmelins' several conditions are certainly as pleasant as any thing of Lazarillo de Tormes: and his description of the Joiner's life and house-keeping, is a true representation of a Frenchman.  
You see how Clarimond begins Lysis' History: I'll tell you how D'audiguier begins that of Lysander; Under the memorable Reign of the great Henry, the redoubted father of our invincible Monarch, there flourished in France a young Gentleman, whose heroic virtue is rendered more illustrious by the glory of his virtues, then by the antiquity of his race, etc. Methinks the Epithets here are very cheap, what need a man's valour come in to tell us of his son: but that word Flourishing troubled Lysis most; 'tis so like the Legend, for alas he was afraid that for that word men would have doubled the truth of his History.  
Lysis believes Hircan took off the beards of the Gods of the waters; how faithful is his memory! he remembered Hercules, snatched a horn from the River Achelous, and that the satire Marsias was flayed by Apollo, from the sols of his feet to the crown of his head, a sad encounter for a God.  
What Philiris says touching the thoughts of Lysis, and his description of the night, are true Poetic imaginations; his putting personages on the clouds and winds, puts me in mind of a certain petty Romance, wherein there was The fight of the four Seasons of the year; Summer and Winter were the two Generals. General Summer was discontented, that such a Tyrant as Winter, with a confused Army of Winds, Mists, and others, Highlanders, Scythians and Deserteers, should make such spoil on his fine Champion Country, rob his Forests, and trample his Meadows, and imprison the fairest Flowers in his Garden, and cause himself to fly for refuse to the Antipodes. The Autumn and the Spring took part with the Summer, by the means of Cupid. Venus also sent him the Cyclopes with some Thunderbolts for his Artillery. Ceres, Pomona and Bacchus promised to find him provisions. He drew up his forces in the Vale of Esam; but he was no sooner in the field, but he had intelligence that his brother Autumn was routed the other side the sea. That they had discovered the advance of a Brigade of sharp blustering Winds, with which a company of Mists came up as resolutely, as if they had been Swissers; after which came up the Canon and Artillery, which was guarded by several Regiments of Frosts, Rains, Hail and Snow, with Scaling Ladders, and Bridges of Ice. That three hours after they discovered a Squadrons of Fogs, all in disorder, and led up by the Amazon Cold, which was followed by the main battle of General Winter, who had four Legions of Flakes of Ice had pressed the frigid Zone, and all old and grey Travellers, who had provision for five months and odd days; and that these forces had quite routed Autumn. General Summer was not much troubled at this news, who thought it his best course to join battle with his enemy before his forces were refreshed. While he was thus busy, a Page comes from Spring-Garden, and tells him he had there seen two or three Gentlewomen get green gowns, which made him believe that Winter could not be so near. Whereupon he giving himself over to some little enjoyment. Winter advances with some Troops of Hoar-Frosts, which made Summer retreat into his works: Some days were thus spent in skirmishes to no great advantage of either side; for what the Hoar-frosts did in the morning, Captain Phoebus recovered at noon. But Winter brought up all his forces, and took the works, and froze the hearts of the hottest Champions among them. Summer in the mean time rallies, and brings on the rays of Phoebus, which were come to his succour from the high Country; but Winter had set a sort of good resolute Fogs all about, who assoon as they perceived the rays, rise up and gave alarm, having let Captain Air pass their guards. The signal of the Battle was a Blustering wind on the one side, and on the other Thunder. The Battle being joined, Phoebus would needs succour the Summer, but the Mists being of the other side, came and covered both Armies, so that he could not see them. The Duke of November would needs with a select troop of Fair days reinforce the fight; but the Earl of Shrove-Tuesday came with a drunken desperate crew, and took him off. Summer seeing himself put to the rout, fought stoutly; but at last was forced to fly to the Antipodes, to raise new forces against the next Campagn.  
This seems pleasant enough; and there is another fight between the Flesh-days and Fish-days, but it is too long for this place: but for this, I think it is much more ingenious than Homer's between the Mice and the Frogs. For what difference could happen between two sorts of Creatures, that had no acquaintance one with another? one living in the water, the other in warm holes in houses. That humour of arraigning Banquet of certain crimes of Drunkenness, Qnarrels and Fornication, and referring her to the punishment of Famine, was not much better in our old Poets. Clysters and Julips are brought to purge away her noxious humours.  
Now we come to Lysis' unwillingness to take arms: he remembers that Lovesongs, Madrigals and Ecclogues are the ordinary entertainments of Shepherds; but where he says, that he will only contend who shall give the best kisses; he remembers Myrtil in the Faithful Shepherd; as also Ronsard, who in the Temple he intends for his Mistress, will have her statue, close by which shall stand by his, as it were going to kiss her, and that all that are in Love, must come thither once a year upon their feast day; and he that should give the best kiss, whether wet or dry, should have some reward.  
But Hircan's Prophecy assures him as to the taking of arms; there are two or three such in the History of Lysander, where I shall leave them.   

The Ninth BOOK.  
THere is no book but much may be said on it; but since it might be thought repetition, I shall contract. I see nothing incomprehensible in the Entertainment at Orontes', nor yet in the arrival of the Ambassadors, the Antiquities that are ripped up; as, the drinking by the Letters of the Mistress' name (which some did till they forgot their own) nor was Carmelin's drunkenness to be omitted, for the truth of the story required it.  
Love blinded is again in the Faithful Shepherd, and that in the Arcadia is, to say truth, very difficult to make any thing of.  
For Lysis' passing from the Iron to the Golden-Age, without passing through the Silver one, 'tis to show the excellency of his operations, and withal to tell them, it shall cost them nothing.  
Nor is that humour of his, of having a God for Romances less pleasant; but what Coxcombs are these Romans, that attribute Genders and Sexes to their Divinities, and multiply them without any reason.  
Lysis his University is very pleasant; The disputations that were had on his Theses had been printed, had they but assigned him a College at P●ris.  
What Clarim●nd says of the Golden-Age, must be added to what had been said before. The fruit of Lotos' is a thing was never yet seen, nor much heard, but what Homer says of it.  
But the design of the Plays is that which is incomparable; as well for the disposition of the Scene as the Language: To rip up the Fables which they propose to act, were to be too tedious; as for the lights which Carmelin saw, he says nothing which the vulgar opinion confirms not, whether they proceed from natural causes or diabolick, matters not here. In Euphormio you may know somewhat more of them; the Author of that satire tells you they call Travellers to them, and that Euphormio, with his friend Percas, going by a river side, saw a man with a great head of hair, and a great Beard, who was seen to the navel, and that he turned up his buttocks, and clapped himself; which done, he laughed, and went under water again.  
As for the Player's habits, Black is the colour of Pluto's Kingdom; Jupiter's red is the colour of his Thunder; Venus' green is the colour of the Spring, which represents Love; Ceres' yellow is the colour of her harvests. Proserpina's blue is the ordinary colour of maids to be married; and for Cyana and Arethusa, white represents the silver of their streams. But for Cupid's being naked, with his Bow and Arrow, as the Poets paint him, there is somewhat to be said against it. When he would shoot at one, what does he with his torch? doth he let it fall to the ground? or does he put it out till he hath done, and then lights it again at the eyes of some Beauty? nor do I see why he should go naked in the cold; and therefore I approve Carmelin, who being to represent him, would not for modesty sake. But it may be said the enjoyments of it are naked: be it so.  
Venus speaks by Hyperboles, yet not such, but the Poets make them ordinary; for to say, that the beauties of a Mistress are able to make the Gods Idolatrous, is much beyond any thing she says. The discourses also of Cupid are fit for such a person, as the Poets make him: for his playing at Cockal, since he is a child, 'tis natural; but pins are more proper for him, for 'tis his design to prick. Nor is Ganymede's loitering from school absurd, for you must note, Mercury taught the God's languages. While the Greeks stood, they spoke all Greek, but when the Empire came to the Romans, the Gods were fain to submit to the Latin tongue, otherwise they could not have conversed with that people, nor answered them by their Oracles.  
Pluto hath taken the Pedantic stile, which is the most proper for a solitary God as he is; and as this God passing his time with the dead, must needs speak some extraordinary Language; so those here who spend night and day in reading old Authors, and never converse with other men, furnish us with nothing but their Pedantry, both in their discourse and Books. For his mangling of the Latin words, he may be easily understood, as being not so ridiculously affected, as that of the scholar in Rabelais; who says he goes to the Lupanar instead of a Bawdy-house, and transfrets the Sequane. But Rabelais needed not have abused others in this point, for his own ordinary stile is Pedantic enough.  
The Rencontre of Adrian just in this nick of time, must needs be very pleasant; and his bidding the company adieu, and the Waggoner drive on both in a breath, sufficiently speak his quality.  
But the next Comedy is much more perfect, as being not interrupted. Zethes and Calais speak the ordinary phrase, as being young men; but Jason being a Conqueror, and better at his hands then at this tongue, can speak no other but Gallimathias, a kind of speech hath no name neither among the Greeks nor Latins, as consisting of contradictions, and clinches upon the words, and 'tis only the example declares what it is. 'Tis a Language that much pesters the Courtiers; you have enough of it in the Loves of Nerueza, and those of Des Escuteaux, and in Love's Alarms; and though these Books are slighted now, yet were they excellent in their time, and those that are now in vogue, will come to the same fate.  
Our Medea is all in Metaphors; a stile proper for a Sorceress; he that composed the Travels of Aristeus, was excellent at it. Despair says he, like a resolute Warrior, having laid siege to the heart of that Shepherdess with an Army of his sufferings, took in at length that fort of her soul, having at his entrance knocked down that inflexible courage, cut the throat of his patience, massacred his furious resolutions, and precipitated those thoughts, which had escaped the fury of the sword, into a fire perpetually burning with a desire of death. This Author was the only admiration of the Court; but how deservedly—  
But to return to our Comedy. Jason desirous to obtain the Golden-Fleece, which was a Book of Chemistry, as some say, though the Fable bears other expositions. But the Poets know not where the Colchos was, for some will have it to be an Island, others a Continent; nay, some say, they knew not by what river the Argo got into the sea. But that trouble, you will say, Orpheus saved them; for he could as well draw after him their ship as other things with his Harp. But I wonder, that being at sea, the Rocks followed them not: but it is to be thought they heard him not. When this Musician descended into hell, the Acheron followed him even to the palace of Pluto, so that the Shades were like to be drowned in the midst of the fires. 'Twas a brave fellow; for with one touch on the Harp he could draw the fairest Trees from his neighbour's garden into his own; and if he changed Country, he could make his house follow him: And yet this was the most beggarly Poet that ever was. But I wonder how the Sun and the Stars, being more excellent bodies than the Stones Trees, were not charmed by his music. But to pursue the narration: When the Argonauts were arrived in the Country of King Phineas, Zethes and Calais relieve him against the Harpies. These young men were the sons of Boreas and the fair Orithia, and had the gift of flying. But why the Harpies should hinder King Phineas to eat, I see not; nor yet how this poor King could live so long without meat. But having done their business, the Argonauts pursue their voyage; and Medea so favoured Jason, that she gave him a charm toset the Dragon asleep. What a simple Conqueror is this Jason, that does all things by magic? The Dragon being asleep, 'twas easy to take the Fleece. And his Companions never drew sword till they came to Thessaly. Are not these excellent examples of valour? As for the language of some Actors in this Comedy, it is enough to say it is fantastic as the rest. These two pieces could not be better represented. Carmelin and the Harpies did excellently well, nor did Hircan who played Orpheus do less. I believe if any of the Country chanced to see them, they must needs think them mad: but they had such a lechery to make sport with Lysis, that they cared not; and therefore being satisfied with this diversion, they find him other adventures in the   

Tenth BOOK.  
I Cannot but admire Lysis' reading and his judgement in the old Authors. His attaque of the Fable of Thetis is excellent; but his heroic accoutrements betray him again: But that was because he saw some Poets even of his own time so dressed before their Books. That subtlety of Hircan, to make Lysis believe that the Coach was drawn by horses as long as it was on firm ground, and did not fly till it came to the sea, was not ordinary: but Lysis helps it by his Philosophy.  
But what he intends to do in heaven, is beyond all Astrology, and discovers the Tenets of divers Philosophers, and especially those of the Platonics concerning Reminiscence; and that was it made Lysis believe there must be an University in heaven for the souls. After he hath spoken of Homer's Tuns of Good and Evil, he falls afresh on the Ideas of the Platonics, as if they had been things to be seen in heaven. Nor is his holding of solution of continuity in spirits less Philosophical.  
The adventure of the Dragon shows how easy it is to deceive him that deceives himself. But for the things that come out of the Dragon's belly, they are not so strange as what comes from a Gentleman in the History of Lysander, that vomited images of wax, pieces of Looking-glasses, Pen-knives and Ink-horns.  
The Deliverance of Pamphilia must needs be a great honour to Lysis, and such as must make him heroic. But his relation of his adventure is excellent. Because he had seen Birds that could speak at Paris, he thought there might be a Country whence they came, and where they spoke and did all things as we do. But this, and what he says of the Diaphonous people, is but a dream of Lysis; yet not so impertinent as that of Poliphilus, who in one night dreamt a book as big as ours.  
As for Lysis' imagination, that being invulnerable, the Giants could not force out his soul but through the nose, 'tis an abuse of Mahomet, who in his Alcoran says that Moses having long wandered the desert, found a Tomb, whereof as he was considering the length and breadth, the Angel of death came to kill him: Moses knowing him, How wilt thou get my soul out? says he to him: Not through my mouth, for that hath spoke to God; not through my ears, for those have heard him; not through my eyes, for those have seen him; not by my hands, for those have received presents from him; not through my feet, for those carried me into the Mount. The Angel went his way thus baffled: but another time he presented Moses with an Apple of Paradise; which he smelling at, the Angel took him by the nose and drew out his soul, & so disposed him into that Sepulchre which could never since be found.  
That Lysis will be accoutred according to his Authors, he still discovers his old humour, that makes him believe there's as much truth in Picture as in Poetry.  
Clarimond's abusing of those Shepherds that grave their amorous speeches and expostulations on Trees, is not without reason, 'tis such an impertinent and an improbable foolery: For they must send notice to their Mistresses to go to that tree, or all's lost; which if they do, they might as well have sent what they writ on the tree some other way.  
The history of Anaximander may well go for canonical with Lysis. He had seen in the fables, that Medea had taken Aeson by the throat, and let out all his old blood, and filled his body with other, by which means he became young again. Nor want our present Romances these renewings of age. Panurgus had his body mined, as if it had been to be put into paste; which done, it was moulded anew, and made handsome then before, and they got life into him by blowing into his fundament. Then does he relate stories of the other world. But if there be any wit in things of this nature, 'tis Anaximander claims it. As for the God of Sleep, whom Clarimond quotes, 'tis to keep even with the fables. Some grant this God a palace, some a grot. But to what purpose either; since all that are about him must be asleep, and cannot do this Child of the night any service? And since Ovid says he is ever asleep, how can he go about the earth to sow poppies? That's a task for the God of Vigilance rather than the God of Sleep. Thus shall we never be rid of absurdities.  
The instructions which Lysis gives to his Historiographer, are certainly very excellent: but the new description of his Mistress' Picture is much more. La Roque was a fool to him; for he says only that he is a new kind of Spider, that makes a web whereon Love should work his Mistress' picture, but how he tells us not, whereas Lysis describes his to the least particulars. As for the Copper-piece, you see 'twas all was left of the brazen age. For the gold into which Midas' wine was turned, why might not Lysis think it might be made potable again, with the help of the Chemists who have broke their heads so much about it? The white must be made of the same milk which made the via lactea; which though not very white, yet might serve Charite well enough. The flesh-colour taken from the sweat of Bacchus, is a new invention; and so is the red that is borrowed from Autumn. The black is Proserpina's Paint, yet may do well enough for an Eyebrow. The Poets who have made such monsters of the Gods, have made Neptune always with a blue beard. For the marble whereon the Colours were wrought, it must needs be a piece of the first Altar that was erected to those Gods whom Lysis honours so much. Venus' shell was that wherein she arrived at Cyprus; and Ladas egg was that out of which Helen, Castor, and Pollux were hatched.  
That I have not altogether observed Lysis' directions for the titles of his Letters and the Histories, is because I would not in such a punctilio transgress the laws of our Romances. But his observation is never the less commendable.  
As for him that would dedicate a Romance of Knighthood to Bethlem-Gabor, 'tis a Satire, he being a most warlike Prince: And where 'tis said he should have a Love-story dedicated to him to teach him to court his Mistresses, Germany and the State of Venice, I may add, that he hath ever been in love with the Ocean, which he enjoys more than those other Mistresses; and that if those old Cuckolds of Venice marry her every year, the Turk commits adultery with her.  
As for that Raillery concerning the attribute of Majesty to Kings, besides that it is but of late, and that Court-flattery hath brought it into vogue; considered truly, 'tis ridiculous; for 'tis no more than if a man should sayto one, May it please your soul, your mind, or your memory. But to fight with Custom is folly; since that in Spain, the Vulgar Ceremonies are such, that Lordship is but Civility to a Translator.  
'Tis a mighty lechery some men have to do things cross to others, were it but for the beginning of a Book, or the ending of it. But for Lysis', 'tis done according to his desire, beginning with his entrance into Shepherdry, though he had loved Charite long before.   

The Eleventh BOOK.  
MY Author had incurred the displeasure of some Ladies, for (as they thought it) his indiscretion in advancing the story of Geneura, which you have in the second Book; and 'tis thought they would have been revenged on him, had he not here brought on the stage a Man as extravagant and vain in his sex, and that is Alican. But who hath seen France, will acknowledge he hath left a many Apes behind him, and these will leave others: I wish their fooleries came not to effeminate us here.  
Carmelin's relation of his and his Master's adventures at Amaryllis', is (considering his person) very good, and that he is not always of the same opinion as his Master. But where it's said, that, In the mean time Lysis, to whom it is now time to return, rise with much disquiet; 'tis a manner of speaking very frequent in our Romances, where you find, We leave him where he is; and, See what such a one does. Lysander's History in every page hath it: Let's now return to Calista; We have left Ambrisa at Paris; We have left Lysander in Holland. There's no artifice in this, and 'tis to suppose the Reader of a very weak memory, and betrays the Author's weakness that cannot fasten things more handsomely together.  
That Triumph wherein Carmelin represents Bacchus, is like that which the Poets celebrate him for, who say he was the first conquered the Indies: but his greatest glory was, that all his voyage he scorned to drink water. But that which Lysis quarrels at in this Ceremony, is, that the old customs are not punctually observed; which he would not have violated, not only in this, but also in all other things, as his Triumph, etc.  
But I cannot but hug that design of his of sending for the Muses. For their number, you must note there were at first but three, but how they came to be nine I'll tell you. The people of Sicyon desirous to have their Statues to place in Apollo's Temple, employed about it three Statuaries, thinking to choose the three best done: but it happened they were so well, that they knew not whhich to refuse, and so they were all nine consecrated in the Temple of the God of Poetry; and to make the people believe there were really nine, Hesiod and a sort of Poets found them all names. For their chastity, it cannot be much, since they have inspired all the lascvious Poets that ever have been. But that Fable of their Fountain made by a horse's hoof, 'tis such an impertinence, as I cannot tell how it hath hitherto been swallowed; for what virtue can there be in a Beast to make men Poets? It had been more proper to say, that those who drank of that fountain became horses, or rather asses.  
As for Lysis' carrying away of his Mistress, 'tis an ordinary Romantic humour. Young Wenches run away and wander forests and deserts with their Lovers, as if they were brothers and sisters, yet must be thought honest, nay though they fall into the hands of robbers and pirates. But Lysis would not have Lovers live like Jupiter and Juno. Natalis Comes tells us how Jupiter came to lie with this sister of his the first time: He changed himself into a Cuckoo, and it being a great shower of rain, fled into Juno's lap; but she hiding him under her coats, he in the mean time got her with child, and could not but for shame marry her. 'Tis true, Jupiter might very well be a Cuckoo, for he was always in some other birds nest.  
But Lysis discovers a most ridiculous humour of the Romances, where you have a silly young girl, that haply was never out of her mother's sight, upon the first of a Lover, become so bold, that she will travel all over the world with him; and in all these travels, there must be those that will infallibly entertain them, as if they had planted their stages beforehand; and if they build Sconces any where, they are excused as Princes in distress, who will reward their Benefactors, when they come to their own. Why may they not meet with as good entertainment as Water-Poets?  
As for that Aristocle● which Lysis says was torn in pieces by her Lovers: This Lass had two Suitors, Straton and Calisthenes; she having chosen Calisthenes, the other seemed to comply so far, that he was invited to the Wedding: But as Aristiclea was sacrificing, he brought a sort of Ruffians to carry her away; at which Calisthenes being alarmed, laid hold on her. Which Straton seeing, put in too, and between them they so drew, that each of them had both too much and too little of her.  
Lysis is somewhat troubled that Hircan and Anselm marry before the end of the Book, and that they are not all married on a day. That marrying all of a day Clarimond needed not so much to have laughed at: for your Romantic Shepherds being all Beggars, such a thing might happen, if they came to some good house, where after good drink and victuals, 'twas easy to bring them into the humour, as being such as of whom it might be said, when they capered in a dance, that all their worldly wealth was in the Ayr. But for Lysander's History, that treats of persons of Quality, to have all matched of a day, and that in the Chapel of Bourbon, was a little extravagant. But Romances can do more; they can raise Armies, and conquer Kingdoms in as little time: yet a man may fain a thing so, as not to be openly taxed for a Lyar.  
As for what is done by Lysis at Hiccans' Marriage, if any see not the wit of it, 'tis because they are not acquainted with Antiquity, as he was.  
As for Adrian's losing of his hearing at Hircans, 'tis not so strange. I can tell you of one that was persuaded out of his fight. Three Italians were at Cards at an Ordinary at Venice: One having lost all his money, went to bed, with his mouth full of curses and blasphemies, leaving the other two at play: These two having given over play, would needs make some sport with the third, who notwithstanding the loss of his money was fast asleep. They put out fire and candle, and began to quarrel about the game; one swore 'twas so, the other, 'twas not, making such a noise that the other awoke, and looking up and seeing no candle, thought they had spoke in their sleep, and so laid him down again. But they quarrelling, and making greater noise than before, he looks up again, and being better awake, What, says he, do you play in the dark? In the dark! say one; what are you blind? do you not see we have two candles? With that, rubbing his eyes, I can see neither you nor the candles, says he. Sure he hath lost his sight, says one; and withal going to the bed side, made as if he were amazed. Bring the candle hither, says he, look, his eyes seem as if there were some film over them: But it may be he does but counterfeit, or imagine himself blind. With that he swore he saw nothing; and withal calling to mind his cursing and blasphemies over night, he was persuaded God had so punished him for it, whereupon he began to weep. They advised him to vow a Pilgrimage to Loretto, which he kneeling on his bed, did, promising her Ladyship two silver eyes, if he recovered his. This done, one of his Companions brought a Candle lighted out of another room, whereupon they laugh at him. He was so astonished at it, that he could not so much as speak; nevertheless, his Companions told him, he must accomplish his vows, since he had obtained his desire. Now if a Gamester, one whose wit is more refined then other ordinary men, and an Italian, could be thus persuaded, why not such an Animal as Adrian, whose understanding was of no greater latitude than his profession; for as for what miracles are told him of Hircan and Lysis, his judgement is so strong, that he knows not whether be aught to believe them or not.   

The Twelfth BOOK.  
HEre we have Lysis relating his adventures to his Cousin, wherein though he have an excellent gift of invention, and applies things handsomely; yet any action that relates to some old fable, he thinks he may venture on as a thing will be granted him. But that natural and Citizen-like persuasion of Adrian's to him thereupon to go to Paris, pleases me extremely, where he tells him, that there he shall not need fear Monsters, or any thing of that nature.  
Here also we have a many casts of Carmelius learning Common-places, Proverbs and Observations, which because they are fitted to Adrian's humour, could never have been better bestowed.  
M●liantes to make Adrian believe the condition his Cousin was entered into was the best, descends into the field of his Eloquence, describing the City and the Country life. But Clarimond now intends to dissolve the enchantment, as being weary of abusing so long, one whom they should rather endeavour to convince of his extravagant opinions. However, Lysis intends to make his party good; you see what inventions he can find to live, though he lost all his estate. He thinks he deserves entertainment as well as those his Authors quote, and I think so too. As for his exhortation to Patience in Adversities, you must note he was well acquainted with Celadon, who upon the disdain of his Mistress, lived a great while on herbs like a beast, though he were not two miles from his own house.  
As for Lysis feigning himself dead, I think him wiser than many other Lovers, who have killed themselves through the cruelty of their Mistresses. Had not Iphic better have done so, then hanged himself at her door; or the Basilius in Don Quixot, that pretended to stab himself before his Mistress.  
The main design of all Poets is, to celebrate their Mistresses; and that is it made Fontenay say, that Pernella should be more famous than Laura. But why all the Poets compare themselves to Swans, those sweet singing birds I know not; but I believe, that the singing of that bird so melodiously before his death, may be entered among the Vulgar Errors; and he that first advanced it, did it upon no certain ground.  
Fontenay's desire to change wives with Adrian, furnishes Lysis with excellent observation of Antiquity, who knew there had been some Republikes where such a thing had been permitted. Meliantes and Hircan not only imitate but exceed our Romances.  
You see how much my Author studies to make all things natural; why may not Adrian, who is a Citizen, be much more jealous and tender of his Pernella, as Menelaus was of Helen.  
Lysi's feigned death is very well acted, Carmelin doth also his part; and because he will not always borrow of his Common-places, I think that about Close-mourning is his own, if he have not seen it in some Manuscript; but Hircan's jest about one laughing on the wheel, he that knows that in other Countries Malefactors are broken with an iron bar upon a wheel, sees it.  
Then follow some excellent considerations about the burying or burning of dead bodies; wherein though Philiris play the Poet, the Shepherd, and the Heathen altogether, yet seems he to quote somewhat out of Doctor Charon, who says, that the most dishonourable way to mankind of disposing dead bodies, is that of burying them; and the most honourable, that of burning them: that the earth is the dregs and ordure of the Elements, the sink of the world, and mother of Corruption. I cannot conceive the reason why Charron should thus abuse the poor Earth: nor why he should say, we have no parts we ought to be ashamed of, unless to show the inclination he had to assert that Paradox, That women ought to go naked.  
The Poets tell us, their Mistresses make them die, and that they raise them again; and therefore that Lysis should think so, is not so extravagant. Besides, he remembered Aesculapius, raised up Hippolytus. Why should not Charite, who is a Sun herself, do as much as that son of Apollo.  
Lysis says, That Love led his soul into Hell, wherein he differs from some of his ancient Masters; who affirmed, that death divided a man into three parts, the Body returned to earth, the soul went to Heaven, or else was united to that of the Universe, and there went to Hell but the Shade, which what it could consist of, I cannot conceive. Yet those others that say the fouls go to Hell, tell us stories of Shades, enough to discover the contradictions of Poetry: but why a soul should be called a Shade, I see not; for being a thing of more worth than the body, and that in its separation it loses nothing, it ought to have a nobler name.  
Nor doth the fiction of the Waterman Charon and his fare hold any more water. What need had this fellow of any money, in hell, where there is nothing to buy? Pluto needed not this Poll-money, for the earth and all the mines were his; Ceres and the other rural Divinities having no more than they necessarily took up. Of equal absurdity is that of Cerberus, the three-tongued Dog. Hath Pluto no other guard than that of a Dog? but it must be thought there needs none in hell, for the Devils need neither Dog nor Cat, since they keep no house, but live like Philosophers.  
Then is Lysis brought before the three Judges, and by their order sent to the Elysian fields, where he rips up old Poetry and Fables so tightly, that if all Books were lost, we might have all of this nature from him. He says that the pastimes of the Devils are Cards and Dice. 'Tis true, quarrels, oaths and blasphemy are the effects of them, and Avarice the Inventor; But the impatience is remarkable: But at what is a Gamester most impatient? Is it for the loss of time in eating or sleeping? is't want of money? is't a years' sickness? No; 'tis when the candle is put out in the midst of a game, or when the Die falls down, and cannot be found.  
Now comes the famous Musardan on the Stage, that excellent advancer of Love-stories, and Courtier of the Muses, who is wellcomest of all to Lysis; one that for sport-sake was admitted to some great men's tables.  
But Fontenay continuing his follies, give Clarimond occasion, really to endeavour Lysis' conviction; for that he had said before, that Lysis ought to be entertained in his extravagance, in regard of the Felicity of Fools, 'twas only for a time, and by Paradox. But if we will see the impertinences and absurdities of Fabulous Books and Romances more fully discovered, we must advance to the   

Thirteenth BOOK.  
THough there need not much be said on these two Orations, the Objections and Answers being so clear; yet to draw things to some conclusion, I shall where my Author hath been very liberal, contribute somewhat.  
The War of Troy is by most acknowledged a fiction: and Homer grounded his Poem on some old wives Tales, yet Clarimond says nothing of that, because truth and Poetry travel not far together. But he quarrels at the subject of his Books, which is ill, and that grand fault, of not mentioning the causes of that war; for that he had written any thing before, is but a conjecture; which yet Philiris makes the best of, when he says, that his subject was well enough known in Greece, and that consequently he might begin where he pleased. But as to Homer's Country, which Philiris says is heaven, and that Poetry is the Language of the Gods, 'tis a little extraordinary, though all Oracles were in verse. For Homer's sentences, besides that they are such as it may be were in every mouth in those days, all sects of Philosophy have gotten somewhat out of him; as if he commend Virtue, he is presently a Stoic, etc. Nor have they been more fortunate, that make him Master of all Arts; or to say better, a Jack of all Trades. For to make him a Ship-Carpenter, 'tis enough that he makes his Ulysses one: To show he was a good Cook, he made his Hero's turn the spit, and boil the pot, and in Vulcan he is an Armourer: This was an easy way to be of all Trades; but it is to be thought, that Ignorance and Pedantry were the Godfathers that gave him that name. That any Captains and the like should esteem him, as if his works could infuse courage, is as improbable; and yet this is no great commendation; for Amadis hath sharpened the courage of some, whose unacquaintance with affairs kept them in ignorance of what was truly military. And for Alexander and Alcibiades, who going into a school, and ask the Master for Homer's Iliads, gave him a box on the ear, when he told him he had none, 'tis no great credit. Alcibiadas was a rash young fellow, that affronted all where he came, not sparing the very Images of the Gods, the noses whereof he cut off; besides that, it shows that it was in those days a Book fitter for Schoolboys than Soldiers; and indeed it was fit a Schoolmaster should have it, it being their daily-bread; as Hieron said to Xenophanes, complaining of Poverty; That Homer, though while he lived, begged his bread, yet dead, he maintained ten thousand men. And hence it came, that the Schoolmasters have ever been his greatest celebrators. As for Hector's leaving the Army in a fight, to go and deliver a message that was unnecessary, 'twas such an absurdity as Philiris mentions it not. As for the fable of Circe, 'tis justly taxed: for dawb as you will with Mythologies, Ulysses' lying with a Sorceress, will be a thing of ill example. As for the Beauty of Helen and Penelope, Clarimond says what he ought, and Philiris answers as well; but for the chastity of the latter, and that evasion of the web, 'tis such a poor one, that so many young Lovers could not but in so many years discover it. But there are that say, that those young men, all enjoyed her, and that thence sprang the God Pan, you have the credit of the Poets for the one as well as the other.  
Clarimond having spoken of Homer, spends not time on the other Greek Poets, since it was but repetition; and so falls on Virgil the Prince of the Latin Poets. That Dido lived not in Aeneas' time, is easy to prove: for his Fables, they are low enough; his Buckler of Aeneas, his golden branch to go to hell with; to find explications for them, were to no purpose. But Philiris deservedly commends the harmony, weight, and fluency of his verse.  
For Ovid and his Metamorphoses, it hath been in divers places showed they are not natural, and some modern, have been more fortunate; as for example, A Player being to represent all conditions and persons, having offended Mercury, in not representing him well, was by that God Metamorphosed into a Looking-glass, that so he might represent things better than he did in his life time. And that other, of a cruel disdainful Mistress, who could not be charmed by any complaints of her Lover, the Gods to punish the one, and reward the other, changed this desperate Lover into a Loadstone, and that ungrateful Mistress into Iron, that so in spite of her teeth she might be drawn by him, whom before she did avoid. To which if we add the Metamorphoses of Marne, Morin, Synopa, etc. we need say no more.  
Orlando Furioso is a book hath less order yet then Ovid, from whom and the other Poets the invention is borrowed. You must not think Clarimond can quote all the impertinences of any book, especially of this; as where Astolphus rides to heaven upon his Hypogriph, and there meets with St. John the Evangelist, who shows him all the curiosities of the place, having put up his horse in a certain place, where he gave him celestial oats. Yet is the Author among his Countrymen called the Divine Ariosto; and so is Aretin, notwithstanding all his filthiness and impiety.  
Tasso is not so confused; but his mingling together sacred and profane things, shows him of that Country where they love vice, and allow impiety. Du Bartus is not much behind; but it must be thought his design was only to reduce the Scripture into neater terms than it was in: but methinks, being to speak as a Christian, he might have omitted the Sun's coach and horses, and such other Pagan absurdities.  
Next comes up Ronsard with his Poems, Sonnets, Elegies, etc. For his Sonnets, they are allusions to the old Greek and Latin Fooleries, or else some traductions out of Italians. But because he is often quoted with his absurdities in the text itself, we shall not say much here, only shake a little his hymn, wherein he compares Hercules to Jesus Christ, both as to his birth and labours. The three nights that Jupiter made one, when he was to enjoy Alcmene, represent the number of years, which passed before the Son of God was born of his mother; That Juno, who sent two great Serpents into Alcides 's cradle, is King Herod, who to destroy the child Jesus, sent his soldiers to kill the children in Bethlehem; That it was thought that those two children were purely humane, the one being thought the son of Joseph, the other of Amphitruo; though Jesus was the son of God, and Hercules the son of Jupiter: That Prometheus unchained, is humane nature set at liberty: That Hercules, who ever obeys Euristheus, is the Saviour of the world, who is ever obedient to his Father: That the envious Juno is Satan (for she represents both Herod and the Devil; whereas Amphitruo and Euristheus do both represent God the Father) That Hercules putting on the Garment of jole, is Jesus Christ clothed with the humanity of his Church: That Hercules and Atlas who sustain the Heavens, are the Father and the Son who sustain the Universe: That Charybdis, which swallowed one of Alcides 's Bulls, is Satan, that makes a prey on one of the disciplies of Jesus Christ: And lastly, that Hercules, who is burnt on a mountain, is our Redeemer, who offers himself up a sacrifice unto God the Father. O lewd Poet! The Adulteries of Jupiter, and the Incarnation of the Word, are they not fit comparisons? why is not Alcmene the Virgin, and the Angel Gabriel Mercury? But that Alcides, who to satisfy his lust, disguised himself, and spun with jola, should be Jesus Christ, is equally as Impious. I am to note further, that he is such a sworn imitator of Homer, and the Poets his Predecessors, that he omits not their greatest absurdities: for this is but a pattern of what might be quoted: for his descriptions and similitudes, they are as tedious as Homer's. If a man be to get a little water boiled, he tells how he clove the wood to make the fire with, then how he kindled it and blew it, then comes in the flame, that encircles about the Kettle, than the white scumming, than the noise it makes in boiling, and this is your constant entertainment. This Poet would find a man perpetual Satire, yet was the most renowned of his time.  
But if we catch Poets and Fabulists, we must not let the Mythologists escape, who by their impertinences seek to continue the credit of the former, and would have us swallow down obscure and ambiguous fooleries for Divinity. 'Tis hard but some allusion or other may be found to save the reputation of advancers. Apollo and Neptune build the walls of Troy, says the Fable; there must be water, says the Mythologist to make the mortar, and when the wall is built, the Sun must dry it. If they had put in Minerva too, it had been said that it was to give them instructions for the Architecture, she being the Goddess of the Liberal Arts: But for Venus' accompanying Aeneas in his battles in Italy, as also being at those before Troy, and her being hurt there; if you would put all Pedantry to the rack, it cannot find any good explication. Those also that shift off the absurdity of Fables by Synonima's, are we not any thing more obliged to; as that Helen, Castor and Pollux are engendered of an egg; you must conceive the feat was done in some great Oval palace Nay, so critical are they, that they find explications for the adulteries and absurdities of these pitiful Divinities; and so impudent, as to present us with them as pieces of solid learning. Nay further, some in the defence of fables tell us, that the Poets had read some parts of the Bible, and grounded them on some stories thereof; as that the Chariot of the Sun, was that of Elijah: but they cannot choose but be impertinent, that excuse impertinence.  
As for Romances, there is as much said in the beginning of this Preface concerning their impertinences, and that little entertainment that is in them, that we shall not have much to add. For Diana of Montemajor, the Pastorals of Julietta, Daph●is and Cloe, and some others, my Author shall make good what is said against them. Nor does our Arcadia escape the quicksighted Clarimond. Astraea is a book hath gotten great reputation, as coming out with the first fruits of more polished language; and that which hath continued it is, that it contains a many stories fitted to the humours of all sorts.  
Nor is what this great Antagonist of Romances says touching the beginning of the Argenis, so inconsiderable. The Verses are also forced in; you find them frequently graven on stones, and any occasion serves to foist in a paper; so that we may think that the Book was rather made for the Verses, than the Verses for the Book.  
As for D' Audiguier, the Author of Lysander and Calista, one thing may be said in his excuse, is, that he was rather a man of his sword then his pen, as appears in many of his Epistles; very Gasconically bragging, that he made his Pen with his Sword, to excuse his ill writing. But his mistake was, that having heard that Romances ought to be full of miraculous adventures, he hath endeavoured to make his the most monstrous he could; by mangling of his adventures, abruptly leaving things undone, and carrying the Reader into another Country, where he had left such a one, whom it was time to look after.  
As for those that go into woods, and talk to themselves so loud, that some overhear, it is thought a mighty ornament, otherwise so many would not have used it, and that so frequently. The examples are obvious.  
As for Amaryllis' interposition; that she should stir so much in a business which concerned the whole sex, for whose entertainment and diversion these excellent works are composed, wants not example, as may appear by that answer of a woman to a certain book written against the sex: That as the Lion seeing a man painted with his foot on the throat of one of his kind, said, that if Lions were Painters, they had the same advantage over men: So did women but write books, they would make men as contemptible as they make them, and would make it appear they are the nobler sex. And this was it caused Anselm to give such a cautious judgement, as being unwilling to disoblige any. But as for others, they may censure Romances as they please. But what influence these two Orations had on our excellent Shepherd, appears not yet, nor how this rare personage consummates all his high and famous adventures. But that is the work of the   

Fourteenth & last BOOK,  
WHere in the first place we have him giving his good word for Carmelin: but when he is demanded how rich he may be, answers very evasively, that he must needs be rich, since he owes nothing. He from whom he had that, was also used to say, (though an ancient Gentleman) that he was young enough when he was in health. But that humour of a Schoolmaster was very pleasant, who being upon clapping up of a match with a rich Citizen, and asked what means he had, whether it were in lands or ready money, he answered, he had not either, yet he thought himself as rich as any. This went very well, and 'twas thought he had great sums due to him, or that he was upon some project, or that he had found the Philosopher's stone. But being still pressed to declare, he told them, that his riches consisted in the saying of one of the Seven wise men, who says, That the only Poor man in the world is the Covetous, and the Rich is the Contented. It was answered him, that if he had no other estate, 'twere well he went into Greece, and marry some kinswoman of Bias; for in London Maids did not marry with Latin, nor yet Greek Ceremonies.  
The discourse between the Hermit and the Shepherd is very pleasant, and the graces of it are obvious; the one being a simple devout man, that wore out no other books than Breviaries▪ the other, one poisoned with a pernicious reading, which he was able well enough so to disguise, as that such a one should not perceive it. But since some have thought Lysis profane, I must vindicate him so far as that he is not without example. Calisto in the Comedy of Celestina says, That if the fire of Purgatory be as tormenting as that of his Love, he should wish himself the soul of a Beast rather than that of a man. And his man ask whether such expressions were Christian, or no: If I am no Christian, says he, I am a Melibean; for I adore Melibea, and believe in her. But these abuses of Religion, the Ceremonies and Saints of it, is so frequent in all Poets and Romances, that a man cannot avoid them so are they besotted, that they care not where they fasten their imaginations.  
But Lysis, you may perceive, is not wanting to make his party good, to prove his Divinities, his Satyrs, and his Nymphs. He hath Agrippa up, but Clarimond clears him; yet not so, but his book of the Vanity of the Sciences comes short of what it pretends to; for some he hath only defined, and shown what they were for, whereas it was hoped he should have discovered the Vanity of them. But I wonder Lysis being so well read as he was, did not think on that Satire which S. Hierome says appeared to S. Anthony the Hermit, and was afterwards brought alive to Alexandria. It may be he thinks better to quote his own Metamorphosis. But now is the Enchantment to be broken up; now must the pernicious reading of so many years, and the impression it had made on Lysis' mind, (which was but too susceptible of all images) be rendered as contemptible as it had been pleasant to him. Clarimond by a short relation of his life and adventures makes a great progress alone: but when all he said was confirmed by Anselm and Hircan, such was his confusion, that he had not what to say. Nor may this seem strange; for I never told you he was quite mad, but having good intervals, all could be said of him was, that he was extravagant. But Hircan's proffering to show him the dresses of the Aquatic Gods, and the final revolt of the Shepherds, finishes the work of his conversion. Upon which Clarimond shows him many secrets concerning Histories, and that it was not conducing to Felicity to go in Shepherd's habit; convincing him out of those Authorities which he himself esteemed the greatest; for since he believed what was in Romances, he must also believe what Clarimond quoted out of them. And thus is he made wise by the maxims of Folly.  
Lysis and Carmelin's marriages need not much remark: Only as for the former, where it was feared he might be as extravagant in his Philosophy as in his Shepherdry, 'tis to show that it was hard to cure such a one so, as that there might not remain somewhat of the old disease. Charron is now one of his Authors, and of him he'll take instructions how to get children. In the Trial of Wits, there is a whole Chapter to show how to get Boys, and not Girls. But all is but Theory, and fragments of Physicians, grounded upon Diets. But were there any truth in it, there yet wanted one thing, which is of most concernment in generation of fair children, that the married be both, as near as may be, of a temperament. So that they should first have taught a man how to choose a wife moist or dry to his own temperament; or else told us, that upon every marriage there ought to sit a Grand-Jury of Physicians.  
And thus have I given you an account of this History of the Shepherd Lysis; and tell you, that if you desire to know what is become of the Persons, you find in the text what became of the principal: For the less considerable, we shall follow the custom of the Romances so much, as not to trouble you with any thing further about them. All which when you have considered together, I doubt not but you will soon resolve where to fasten the folly and extravagance which this Shepherd hath entertained the world with; for he doth but convey it from those great fountains, the Poets and Romanceers that had lived in the several Ages before him.  
For my part, in the mean time I must acknowledge my own deficiencies, which yet I hope are such as have not rendered my Author unlike himself: And whereas notwithstanding what is here said, this Book may be looked on by some of a nature ridiculous and trivial, I am so bold as to tell them, that it is the most serious Satire and gravest Work that ever came into the world, and of no small importance: For if in Religion we value so much Books that combat and overcome Error, I see not why it should be a less acceptable action in Morality, to endeavour the eradication of Folly.  
J. D.    

THE Author to the Reader.  
THose that take so much delight in Love-stories, let them come and see what entertainment this will afford them, which they cannot but account as pleasant as those they so much esteem, since it contains alone whatever is remarkable or admirable in all the rest The Incomparable Shepherd here represented, hath endeavoured alone to do all that the most passionate Lovers which Books have brought into our acquaintance, have not without difficulty accomplished. To tell us that it is an Extravagant Shepherd, and that he hath been ever known by that name, is no argument to cause any to esteem him the less; for it is not to be learned, that an extraordinary excess of Affection, is not confined within the limits of Devoïr, nor observes the Laws of Prudence. Besides that, the most Extravagant actions of our Shepherd-Lover, have for their Precedents those of so many brave Hero's, whom he hath endeavoured to imitate. So that as to the design he had proposed to himself, of furnishing materials, to make as noble and as famed a Romance as any this age hath brought forth; you see he hath been very fortunate in't: And though they have given the name of Romance to those charming and delightful Histories, and that his pretends more right to the title, as being nothing but charms and delight itself: Yet we have called him the Anti-Romance; and that because Romances contain nothing but Fictions, whereas this must be thought a true History. And of this there is yet another Reason, that is, if we consider it is accompanied with most excellent, and important Remarks, wherein are discovered the impertinences of the fault, which pester Romances, and all Poetic and Fabulous works; so that this Book may be said to be a quite contrary thing to them. 'Tis here that you will be fixed into amazement; O you that are so taken with the reading of feigned Histories! you knew not till now what Artifice could be used to imitate those rare adventures in such a manner as you might not be offended with; and yet that all should tend to an intention far different from the ordinary. You now suspect you are gulled; be not mistaken, assure yourselves you shall find nothing but what shall be for your advantage, and convincing you of your errors shall remove your prejudice. You must therefore resolve yourselves to attention and silence; for the Scene opens, the Shepherd enters, and speaks.   

 
  

THE Anti-Romance; OR, THE HISTORY Of the SHEPHERD LYSIS.  
The First Book.  
FEed on, feed on, dear Sheep, my dear Companions! The Deity which I adore hath undertaken to reduce into these places the felicity of the first Ages: And Love himself, who acknowledges a respect to her, stands with his Bow in hand at the entrance of the Woods and Caves, to destroy the Wolves that should assault you. All nature adores Charite: The Sun seeing she gives us more light than himself, hath now no more to do in our horizon; and 'tis only to see her, that he appears there. But, return, bright Star! if thou wilt not be eclipsed by her, and so become ridiculous to mortals: Do not pursue thy own shame and misfortune, but rather cast thyself into the bed which Amphitrite hath prepared for thee, and sleep by the noise of her waves.  
These were the words that were overheard one morning, by some that could understand them, in a Meadow upon the River of Sein near St. Cloud. He that spoke them drove before him half a dozen mangy Sheep, which were but the refuse of the Butchers of Poissy. But if his Flock was in so ill a posture, his Habit was so fantastic ●n amends thereof, that it was easily discovered he was some Shepherd of quality. He had a strawn Hat with the edges turned up; a Cassock and Breeches of white Taby; a pair of grey Pearly silk-Stockings on, and white Shoes with green Taffeta Knots. He wore a Scarf, had a Scrip or a Foyne-skin, and a Sheephook as well painted as the Staff of a Master of Ceremonies. So that considering all this equipage, he was almost like Bellerosa, going to represent Myrtil in the Pastoral of the Faithful Shepherd. His hair was rather flaxen then red; but naturally curled into so many rings, as sufficed to demonstrate the dryness of his head. His Countenance had some features which rendered it graceful enough, if his sharp Nose, and his grey Eyes half asquint, and almost buried in his head, had not made him appear somewhat ghastly; showing those that understood any thing of Physiognomy, that his brain was not of the soundest.  
A young Gentleman of Paris having perceived him afar off, was somewhat astonished at his extraordinary garb; and discontinuing his walk, came and hid himself somewhat near him, behind a haycock; where he was so far from making any noise, that he hardly durst dismiss his breath. He saw him walk with paces so grave and measured as a Swiss-Captain, and heard him pronounce words with such animation as if he had been on a Stage: which made him believe that he conned the part of some Stage-play wherein he was to be an Actor, as indeed they had a little before acted one at St. Cloud.  
While he was in doubt whether he should discover himself, or let his curiosity be satisfied by other accidents, the Shepherd put himself into more different postures than a Painter puts his boys into when he would represent some great history. Sometimes he leaned on his Sheephook, resting his right leg thereon; and sometimes he crossed his arms, lifting up his head towards heaven, as if he begged something with his eyes. In 〈◊〉, he considered himself all about with certain gestures of admiration; and cried out, O God how am I now assured that I shall please my Beauty in this new habit! Such was the Phrygian Pastor, when he gave sentence upon the difference of the three Goddesses. After that, he sat him on the ground; and taking a little Loaf out of his bag, drew out withal divers other things, which he set in order by him, that he might the better consider them. There was a little dry Grass, a withered Pink, some very foul Paper, and a Piece of old worn Leather. Ah precious Relics! says he in the midst of his contemplation, I must have a Box of Crystal for you, that I may always see you, and not touch you. Then did he fall a eating with such greediness, as if he had been newly come out of a besieged City destitute of provision. Anselm thinking he could not resume all ●hese excellent discourses, and overcome with impatience, rise from the place where he was, to speak to him. As soon as the other had perceived him, he says to him, Pan defend thee, courteous Shepherd: wilt thou partake of my Pastoral banquet? I have in my Pocket some Apricocks, whose skin seems to be interlined with Roses: We will here participate with a fraternal concord what the Gods have sent us. I give you thanks, replies Anselm, my stomach is not up so early: But since your courtesy is so great, I presume to ask you what fair things you have there exposed, and why you esteem them so highly as if they were Pieces taken out of the Cabinet of some Antiquary: I had rather for the present that you gave me part of your secret designs, then of your breakfast. I adore thy humour, replies the Shepherd; seeing thou betrayest so much curiosity, thou must needs have a good wit: Sat thee here down by me, and I shall give thee an account of myself. It's a pleasure to discourse of our Loves, while a gentle Zephir breathes yet upon the earth: when the heat shall advance, we will drive our Flocks into the shade.  
Anselm hearing all these not so common things, was unspeakably astonished, and knew he had found one sick of the strangest folly in the world: So that considering well that there is nothing gotten of such people but blows, if they are contradicted; and the greatest pleasure that may be, when humoured, he presently placed himself by him. He resolved within himself to bite his lips, whenever he should say any thing that were ridiculous, lest he should laugh; and put on a countenance so modest, that the Shepherd assuring himself that he prepared him a favourable audience, began to speak thus.  
I put up my bread for the present, that I may entertain thee with my sufferings. Discourses are more pleasant than Banquets. Know then that this common Tyrant of our souls, this God that is so little in bulk, and so great in power, (who if he were not, Shepherds might dispute, as to felicity, with the Gods) no sooner observed me in the world, but he destined me for one of those Captives which he will have drawn after his triumphal Chariot. Yet he alone could not have robbed me of my Liberty, had he not been seconded by a fair Eye; who conspired with him to make him Master of the Universe. The incomparable Charite receives his pay, or rather he hers, so to perfect the conquest of all hearts. 'Twas in Paris, that Epitome of the World, that I saw that only Wonder; when I was in a richer habit, but not so noble as this I now have on. She dwelled about the quarter of St. Honore, and that not without reason, seeing she was honoured of all the World. Fortune with her blind eyes denied me often the means of seeing her; and it was only at some uncertain hours that I enjoyed that object, in passing by the house, or rather the temple of that Goddess, but wanted the opportunity of tendering my prayers and sacrifices to her. I passed by that way above ten times in an afternoon; and because I should have been ashamed that the neighbours should see me so often, the first time I put on a black Cloak, the second a grey; one while I walked gravely, another with a staff, as if I had been lame, lest I should have been observed. When I would not pass quite through the street, I was content to possess myself of a corner, and see my Mistress afar off, though the most commonly I could perceive but the extremity of her Petticoat. But I did more than all this: when I returned from some part where I had been at supper, I went out of my way three streets, to go into hers; and it satisfied me to consider the walls that kept her in, and to see the candle in her chamber; and if the glass appeared more obscure in one place then another, I conceived it was she that was near the window, and there I stood for to contemplate that fair shadow so long as it continued. And though all this can be called no other than a false pleasure, yet I was necessitated to continue in this torment a whole year; A torment more cruel than that of Tantalus. But these eight days since, I have found the Heavens more favourable to me: Charite is come to dwell here, where I hope to find greater means to acquaint her with my flames. The Shepherdesses do oftentimes retire into the groves, where the Shepherds may entertain them, and yet no envious eye shall discover it, as it falls out in Cities, where a man is spied and suspected by every one. To prosecute therefore my Love with more liberty, I have put on this habit, which I had wished long before, and am resolved to pass away my days near those fair Rivers with this little Flock. But that I may not conceal any thing from thee, and that I may be known to thee as to a Brother, I tell thee what I would not every body; and that is this, that my own proper name is Lewis, but I have quitted that to take some Shepherd-name. I would have one that came somewhat near my own, that so I might be always known; and sometimes I had a mind to be called Lodovick, sometimes Lysidor, but in the end I have not found any name more fit than Lysis, a name that sounds somewhat, I know not what, that is amorous and gentle. As for Charite, not to dissemble, her true name is Catherine; I heard her so called but yesterday by a Nymph. But thou knowest the artifice of Lovers: We say Francina instead of Francis, Diana instead of Anne, Hyanthe instead of Jane, Helen instead of Magdalene, Armida instead of Mary, Eliza instead of Elizabeth. These old names sound far better than the new, in the mouths of the Poets. So after I had taken asunder this name of Catherine for to compose another out of it, I found by way of Anagram that of Chariteé, and there wants only an [n] but all the letters are there. How many Laurels have I deserved for this rare invention, seeing that name is clearly the name of a Shepherdess, and that lately there hath been a Book of Pastorals made, which is so called? Nevertheless I have been content to cut off one letter more, and to call her Charite▪ because the name seems to me more gentile, and more easy to come into verse Wherefore henceforward there shall not be rock nor tree in the Country, where shall not be engraved the names of Lysis and Charite: nay, I wish I could grave them in the heavens, or make the clouds receive the form of our Characters.  
But to satisfy thee more particularly as to the Jewels thou seest me have, courteous Shepherd, know they are things which I look on as most exquisite favours. For the little that I have seen Charite, I do not think she knows me: she hath not given me any bracelets of her hair, nor cast amorous looks on me. For want of this, I shall not forget myself so far, as not to keep something that comes from her. Yesterday as I came to St. Cloud, I saw her walking with one of her Companions: In jesting she took a Pink that was in her breast, and cast it at the other whom she met: I was careful to gather it up, that the rest of my days I might have the pleasure to kiss that fair Flower which had touched those fair Apples that are more precious than those of the Hesperideses. After that she took out of her pocket a piece of Paper, which she tore all to pieces, and threw away as a thing nothing worth; yet highly estimable to me, who took it up, desiring to preserve whatever comes from her. Presently after she stooped down, somewhat ailing her foot and hindering her to go, and tore off a little piece of the sole of her shoe, which dragged along: What grief would have seized me, if I had not obtained that fair piece of Leather, whose service had once been to carry so worthy a body! Fate was favourable to me: Charite and her Companion betook them into a house, so that I being left alone in the street, presumed to take up that rich treasure; and what is more, that my felicity might not be imperfect, I gathered of the Grass which had received the impression of her divine paces. Behold, gentle Shepherd, I have all these things in my custody: Satisfy thy eyes with them, and observe quickly if they have not some extraordinary lustre; for I am going to put them up: 'Tis a profanation of them, to expose them so long in the air.  
Anselm wondering at the extravagances wherewith Lysis entertained him, could not withhold himself from saying to him; But what, perfect Lover! if Charite had spat somewhere, or done somewhat less decent, would you be so curious as to keep whatever should come from her? Who doubts it? replies he: ought any thing that is so precious be lost, when it may be recovered? I make a vow from henceforward, to find me out a Cave somewhere hereabouts, where I will preserve all whatever shall come from her; and thither will I go every day, and there spend whole hours in contemplation. You will never have done, says Anselm, if you will keep so many things: How is it possible to get all the grass that she shall tread upon? Let me tell you, you shall do well to content yourself with some part: but your satisfaction would be far greater, if you could get her Picture, and that would make you remember her better. Ha! that's excellently imagined, replies Lysis. It is true, I have seen in all Books, that Lovers do always endeavour to have the Pictures of their Mistresses: But how shall I have mine? Where is the Painter so skilful that can draw it? A mortal man cannot fixtly look on her. There is none but Love that is able to accomplish this work, as he hath already painted her well in my heart: yet I should be well pleased to have her (if it be possible) in another draught, that I might place it upon an Altar, and make it my Idol. Whereupon Anselm told him, that if he knew Charite, he might assure himself that he would draw her Picture so as he should therewith be satisfied. And indeed he spoke truth, for from his very childhood he delighted in Painting; An accomplishment that doth a man no hurt, though he do not make it his profession. Lysis seeing that he proffered him so great a favour, could not imagine that any mortal had so much power and will to succour him; and hereupon embracing his knees, spoke to him in these words: Pardon me, O great Divinity of our groves! if erewhile I could not discover who you were: Now do I perceive well enough that you are the God Pan, that hath disguised himself for to come and assist me in my Loves; and I easily observe somewhat in you more than a Shepherd, seeing your Clothes are not altogether like mine: Henceforth there shall not pass a day, that I shall forget to pour out wine and milk before your Altars; and every month will I offer you sacrifice of the fattest of my Lambs. Consider well what you say, replies Anselm: I am not he whom you conceive me to be; I have no cloven feet, nor any tail behind, nor horns on my head. And thereupon pushing him from him, he was somewhat amazed to see a man make towards them, crying as loud as he could, I have thee Lewis, I have thee; henceforward I will shut thee up, so as thou shalt not any further amuse the world with thy follies. Their discourse was interrupted by the arrival of the man: who being near the Shepherd, took him by one arm, and said to Anselm, Sir ● I pray afford me your assistance to convey this young man as far as St. Cloud: You may have discovered that he is not sound in mind: I who am his Guardian, cannot but be more conscientious then to suffer him to wander thus from one place to another; if I were not, I should be accountable to Justice: I intent to bring him back to Paris. Silence, says Lysis, Let us stay a little here: Good Cousin Adrian! give me but an hour or two, to show you my reasons: This courteous Shepherd shall be our Judge: He is so perfect, that I took him but now for the God Pan; and yet I cannot otherwise persuade myself but that he is either Cupid, or Mercury, or some other God in the habit of Man.  
At these words the Guardian stays, as having a desire to hear what he would say. Whereupon the Shepherd resuming the discourse with a tone somewhat elevated, spoke to him thus. Is it not a strange blindness to blame the happy condition that I would follow? The name of Shepherd is as ancient as the World, and Pan is the first God to whom men have sacrificed. Heretofore Kings children kept Sheep as I do; and for to learn how to hold a Sceptre, they were before fain to hold a Sheephook. The Wool which we have from time to time at the shearing of our sheep, is like the Revenue that a Prince receives from his Subjects. The Gods themselves have sometimes deigned to come down on earth for to be Shepherds: And if that were not so, they cease not to be such always in heaven; for what are the Stars, but a sort of living creatures which they drive to feed here and there in those vast Plains? But as for us terrestrial Shepherds, what is it that can be compared to our glory? Could the world with any shift be without us? The Wool of our Flocks, doth it not furnish clothing to all the world? The Tapestry of Temples and Kings Palaces, is it not made of it? Some may tell me, that men may make use of Silk: Is that any noble thing in comparison of the other? It is but the excrement of a vile creature. What if I have made me clothes of it? It is only for every day; I will have others made of Cloth for Holidays. The flesh of our Sheep, is it not the principal nourishment of men? If we had none, how should we sacrifice to the Gods? Are not these creatures, think you, acceptable to them, when Jupiter would be adored in one of his Temples under the form of a Ram? and was it not for a Fleece that Jason and the Argonauts went to Colchos? This is to show you, Cousin Adrian, that as our Flocks are very profitable, so is it a great honour to keep them, and that no man indeed should meddle with any other employment. To what end serve all the Trades in the City? Read the Pastorals of Julietta, and you will find that there was in Arcadia neither Councillors, nor Attorneys, nor Solicitors, nor Merchants; there was nothing but Shepherds: We must be so too here in France, if we desire to be happy. Buy you a Flock, take Shepherd's habit, change your Ell for a Sheephook, and come your ways hither to be a Lover: And do not counsel me to return to Paris, there to execute some Office. You may bring hither my Cousin your wife, and all your Prentices, who will all be glad to become Shepherds: You will find it a greater pleasure here to laugh and dance to the Bagpipe, then to take the pains you do at Paris, in showing of Silks and Stuffs.  
O heaven! cried out Adrian: What hath our race committed, that must be thus expiated? Now I plainly see that the poor Youth hath lost his senses quite and clean. Sir, says he to Anselm, I beseech you, seeing he places so much confidence in you, bestow your persuasions to bring him to himself. Whereupon Anselm taking Adrian aside, tells him, that he had fully discovered his sickness, that it was requisite to comply a little with him, leaving him there some while longer to entertain himself with his own thoughts; and that in the mean time, he desired to know who he was, if so be he had the leisure to tell him. Adrian answered him, that he would willingly do it; believing, that when he had acquainted him with the whole life of his Ward, he might be the more able to remove those imaginations which troubled his mind.  
Having said so, they retired some distance from Lysis, who being alone set himself to ruminate on his Loves, not dreaming any thing of what they went about: And Adrian, who was an honest man, but withal very simple, as most of your Citizens are, and one that knew very little besides his Trade, continued thus his discourse with much natural simlicity.  
That Young man whom you have now seen, is the Son of a Silkman, who lived in St. Dennis street: He had no more children; and hath left him so rich, that we all hoped that he would restore our Nobility, and that we should see in our race a Regal Officer, who might be a protection to us. You know, there are many Merchant's Sons that are so: And though the Nobility contemn us, yet we are as good men as themselves: They are not able, as we are, to bestow great Offices for their children; and if they are so brave, it only demonstrates their borrowing from us. In the mean time they call us Sires, and they are not mistaken; for indeed we are a sort of petty Kings. But to come to my Tale: Lewis' Father and Mother being dead, I was chosen his Guardian, as being the next of Kindred. He had already gone through his Studies at the College of Navarre, and cost his friends more money than his weight. He was eighteen years of age, or thereabouts: I told him it was time for him to bethink himself what course of life he would follow; That he was not brought up to Learning, to the end he might idle away his time; and that he was old enough to make his own choice how to dispose of himself. For to try him further, I asked him whether he had any inclination to be a Draper, as I am myself: but he answering me, that he aspired to somewhat more noble, I was not any thing displeased at him. He tabled at my house, and I sent him to certain Masters in Paris, who teach the Trade of Councillors. They are a sort of people that are so expert, that when a young man is to be received a Disciple, they undertake to teach him in one month all that he hath to answer, as if it were but to teach him to whistle, as one would do a Starling; so that of an ignorant Schoolboy, they ever make a learned Lawyer. My Cousin studied a year under them, and was sent thither to no other purpose: yet could he never be persuaded to put on the Long-robe. Instead of Law-books, he bought none but a sort of trashy books called Romances: Cursed be those that have made them! They are worse than Heretics: The books of Calvin are not so damnable; at least those speak not of any more Gods then one, and the others talk of a great many, as if we still lived in those heathen times which worshipped blocks hewn into the shape of men. It doth not a little disturb the minds of young people, who as in those Books they find nothing so much mentioned as playing, dancing, and merry-making with young Gentlewomen, so would they do the like, and thereby incur the displeasure of their friends. Those Books are good for your medley-Gentlemen of the Country, who have nothing to do all day, but to walk up and down and pick their nails in an out-chamber: But as for the son of a Citizen, he should not read anything, unless it were the Royal Ordinances, the Civility of Children, or Patient Griselda, to make himself merry on Flesh-dayes. This was my advice to Lewis; but he would not believe me: And then you would say I had a fine task to command him to learn by heart the Quadrains of Pybrac, or the tabrets of Matthieu, that he might sometimes rehearse them at the Tables-end when there were Company; alas! he could not endure the speech of it. That put me into such a fury, that I went one day into his chamber, and took all his mischievous books, and burned them: But he bought him others, and hid them sometimes in his Straw-bed, and sometimes in some other place. I could not hinder his reading of them; if he did it not at home, he did it abroad; sometimes he walked out into the fields with a Book in his breeches. At last being at a loss of all patience, I entreated him in the name of all his good kinsfolks and friends, to tell me what profession he would be of. He answered me, that I should let him alone, that the hour to think of that was not yet come; and that in the mean time he would be a Stage-player, saying it was a Profession that paid no duties, and yet was very noble, seeing that although a Stage-player were of all qualities and conditions one after another, yet did he not purchase any of them. This resolution of his I thought would have broke my heart, for I have ever loved him as much as if he had been mine own child: but I found out at last, that all that he had told me was only in jest. Yet he continued his pernicious reading, wherein he passed over whole months, without ever going out of the house, unless it were one half hour on Sunday to go to Mass. He always locked himself up in his chamber, and came not to meals with me but once a day. I went ofttimes to listen at his door, and I could hear him make such Love-discourses, as if he were speaking to some fair Lady, and then a little after, he answered himself for her, counterfeiting his voice. You see now how he hath passed his time at my house till this year, which is his five and twentieth, wherein he hath made appear that his mind is more fraught with hurtful imaginations then ever. My wife had about a month since presented the consecrated bread in our Parish; the Beadle that oversees that work had brought her back the wrought cloth it was carried in: He got hold of it, and having wrapped himself about with it, as the Schoolboys do who represent Shepherds in the Colledge-Comedies, he began to repeat verses in my chamber, beholding himself in the Looking-glass, to see if he acted his his part handsomely. I came to him while he was in this posture, and jeered him so much, as if he had owned any shame, he had repent him of what he had done. It hath been his study ever since, how to counterfeit the Shepherd; and instead of a Sheephook he took sometimes a Besomstaff, and sometimes a Rasp; most commonly he took a Fork I had in my back-shop, which was somewhat more commmodious for him, because it was of a good length; and he hath broke me two or three, by leaning negligently his leg thereupon for to personate the Passionate Shepherd, as he once had observed at Bourgundy-House. At last he found out the means to make him the habit which he now hath on, and hath stolen away from me to come hither, where he intends to play the Shepherd in good earnest, and act Comedies in the midst of the field. 'Twere at lest somewhat better if he were at my house then in this place, where his follies will be betrayed to all the world. Thus far therefore have I gone: I learned he was come into these quarters, and that he retired last night to a poor Countryman's house, who hath helped him to buy some sheep, and hath suffered him to go abroad in his new habit, without crossing him in any thing. My intention is to carry him back, and lock him up in some place, where he may see nothing at all, until this humour be over.  
You will get nothing by that, saith Anselm, you must not go that way to work: For suppose he were in some place where there were no Books that could give any entertainment to his Extravagances, he knows enough already for to feed himself in them, and in a Chamber that were no longer than a Perch, his mind would travel 500 leagues in half an hour; 'twere in this solitude that his imagination would be in continual employment. 'Tis better to let him enjoy company; for he will divert and rid himself of many errors, which haply had not possessed his thoughts but for want of knowing how men live in the world. Let me have the tuition of him a little; I have a house at St. Cloud that is at yours and his service, and I will entertain him the best I can.  
Adrian thanked Anselm for his courtesy, and told him, that come what will on't, he would let him try, if he could prevail any thing with his Cousin. While they were engaged in this discourse, they came still nearer and nearer St. Cloud, and Anselm drew Adrian with some importunity thither for to dine at his house, telling him, that Lysis must be left in the fields till night, to see if his patience would hold out to stay there without the diversion of any company.  
While they were absent, the new Shepherd made his meal on the fruits wherewith he was furnished, and went and drunk at the River. Divers Countrypeople went near by him, but there was not one that had the boldness to speak to him; they all took him for an Apparition.  
It was at length tedious to him, not to have any body to talk with: And seeing a Flock of Sheep at some pretty distance from him, he drove his towards that side, to pass away the time with him that kept them: Though it was a lusty Country-fellow, and that he observed his habit to be much different from his: Yet he sticked not to approach him, with a gesture as courteous as if it had been Celadon or Sylvander. Courteous Shepherd! says he, Tell me what are thy occupations here? Dost thou think on the cruelty of Clorinda? How long is it since thou hast made any Song for her? Prithee show me some of thy Verses.  
The other Shepherd, who understood no more of these Elegancies, then if he had spoken to him in some barbarous tongue, was very much amazed at his mode, not knowing what kind of person he was. However comprehending his discourse the best he could: I know not what you tell me of Cock d' Ind; As for a Song, I bought one the other day at Paris at the New-bridge end; And 〈◊〉 for Verses, if you mean those at the beginning of Mass, I think I can tell one or two. Lysis smiling at this answer with a kind of disdain, which in him was a somewhat natural gracefulness, said to him, How Shepherd? dost not thou know yet what Verses are? Must not all Shepherds be Poets? Hast thou observed any in the histories that have not been so? Hast not thou observed that they ought to make Verses in talking; and that it should be as easy for them, as Prose to other people? Otherwise how could they express their sufferings to their Shepherdesses upon all occasions by a Sonnet, Roundelay, or a Madrigal handsomely sung? But it may be thou art of the number of those insensible ones who despise Love and the Moses. Can I say thou art happy, if thou art of that humour? Yes, I may, for thou art not therefore exposed as I am to the charms of a cruel Deity. Alas! tell me, dost not thou know the fair Charite? No indeed, answers the Shepherd, I do not know those people you name to me. What, thou hast not seen her then, replies Lysis? Not that Charite, that can no more hide herself then the Sun? No, no, it is apparent: For if thou hadst once met her, thou wouldst not have been any longer insensible. Avoid her still, that thou mayst continue happy. She is at the present at St. Cloud, where with her looks she commits murders: she takes men and chains them up, puts them on the rack, and plucks their hearts out of their breasts without ever opening them: she doth not feed on any thing but Hearts, and carrouses in nothing but Tears. Alas, said the Shepherd, (making the sign of the Cross) it seems you speak to me of a Witch! She may well be a Witch, answers Lysis, seeing one gesture, or one word of hers charms all that is near her. All those that have seen her, languish for her: she bewitches the Flocks, the Dogs, the Wolves, nay even the Rocks, which she makes follow her; the Plants do not escape her, and it is only she that causes the buds of the Roses to shoot forth, and afterwards causes them to wither away through the same heat that produced them. Ah! how shall I have a care not to appear before her, said the Shepherd; for I am not such a one as the most part of the Citizens of Paris take me to be: They think I am a Wizard, as all those Shepherds are that live far hence: for I should not have the power to defend myself from the wicked woman you talk of; I do not know how they make Characters; I cannot save myself any way but by flight. Stupid fellow! replies Lysis, dost thou think to avoid what all the world must suffer? This great Universe which thou seest will not be ruined but by Charite. Thou knowest how that in the time of Deucalion all the Earth was overwhelmed with water: there must shortly happen another end that shall be quite contrary, all must be destroyed by fire, and this Charite is born to turn all to ashes. What! thou wonderest at what I say? How! knowest thou not that I who am but her slave, have so much fire within my breast, that with one sigh I could burn up all this grass; and that besides that, I could drown all this Country by a deluge that should issue out of my eyes, were it not that the heat is more predominant in me.  
The Shepherd, who saw that Lysis animated his discourse with a serious manner of speaking, gave credit to all these miracles; and though he was as much confounded as if he had already seen the end of the world, yet had he the courage to ask him who he was? I am a body without a soul, answers Lysis: I do not live, since I have seen Charite; and shall not rise again, until her favours shall oblige me thereto. Thou to whom I have the first of any communicated my secrets, go and acquaint the Shepherds of thy village, to make their vows and offerings to my Enchantress, to the end that if she will do them no good, she may do them no hurt. Farewell friend! and make thy profit of my admonitions.  
Having said so, he quitted the Shepherd; who was so much astonished both at the fashion of the man, and his discourse, that he certainly believed that it was a spirit had appeared to him; and he thought it very long that the time of departing was not come, that he might go and communicate this strange news to all of his acquaintance.  
Lysis pursuing his way, came somewhat near the side of a Mountain: where caling to mind that in the Books he had read, the Shepherds did interrogate the Echo in such places as that, his resolution was to imitate them, and to consult that Oracle which he thought as infallible as that of Delphos. Languishing Nymph! says he with a shrill voice, I have erewhiles discovered my torment to all these deserts, hast thou heard it? There was presently an Echo that answered, heard it. He was so ravished to hear that voice, that he continued in this manner. What shall I do for to assuage my misery? tell me, seeing I have already related my chance. The Echo answered, dance. Sing then, or whistle, or play on the Tabor, if thou wilt have me dance, replies the Shepherd: but let us not fall out, friendly Nymph! How is it that I must take my Mistress, that my flames may be slaked? Echo, naked. What shall I do, if I see one of her breasts uncovered? shall I touch it, seeing haply she will be angry if I undertake it? Echo, take it. That I take it, that's very well spoken: I will go and see her immediately, that my pain may find some allay. Echo, away. Farewell then, my Faithful one, till the next time: I'll go seek Charite where she doth stay. Echo, stay. Why so? thou bidst me be gone, and that I should find comfort readily. Echo, I lie. I think thou art a fool: thou assuredst me but now I happiness should ken? Echo, when? Just now, sycophant, hast thou forgotten? and dost not think Charite's heart and mine the same chain must undergo? Echo, No. Thou prophesiest false: my Mistress shall give thee the lie, and make a fool of thee. Echo, of thee. Of me! I believe not: what! she will disdain me: for such mishaps tell me some remedy. Echo, die. What kind of death shall I choose, there being no succour if her goodness doth not accord? Echo, A cord. Ah cruel one! thou art deceived, or haply thou wouldst speak of the cord of Cupid's bow, that will send me an arrow will make me die an easy death: Is not that thy meaning? Echo, No, no, I mean a halter to hang thee. This answer, which was very lively, extremely surprised Lysis. Ha! what pleasant Echo is this? says he: she repeats not my last syllables, but says others.  
As he had spoken these words, Anselm came from behind a long wall where he had lurked, and presented himself to him. 'Twas he that had all the time played the Echo: but he did not discover any thing at all to him, though the other did somewhat suspect him, and questioned him divers times. So that Lysis who was persuasible to any thing, told him, that if it were not he that had answered him, he had found a place where the Echo showed herself very merry; and that in all the Books of Pastorals, he had never read of her ever being in such a good humour. I do not know, says he, whence it comes, she nothing but jeers now. Is there not some impatience troubles her? Is she not still in love with Narcissus, having found Charite more beautiful than he? But rather on the contrary, hath not she greater cause to grieve, seeing Charite is not of her own sex, from whom she can expect no satisfaction? Or perhaps doth she not dote on her, and that at the present she is somewhat extravagant? For my part, I believe it, or else she must be drunk. Certainly 'tis so, says Anselm, and laughs! The Nymph Echo comes from a collation at the Tavern in the Heaume, where she had drunk a little too much Suresne wine. But what an error are you guilty of, to believe that the Echo which answered you was the same Nymph that was in love with Narcissus? There are few rocks and other places in the world where there is any hollowness, but there are such voices as these: whereas she that was in love with that fair huntsman, who loved none but himself, lives only in a rock of Beotia, where her languishing hath made her so lean, that there remained of her no more than the bones, which were turned into stones, and speech, which is heard there to this day. She could not answer us at that distance; it must needs be, that in France and other Countries there are some Demy-goddesses which drive the same Trade as she. Do not believe that, replies Lysis: she hath a ready spirit, and hears well when one calls her, she comes presently in what place soever it be. But sometimes, says Anselm, she returns our last words without ever being called, and it is possible she may be called in fifty places at the same time, how could she answer all? But I will explain this to you: Know that there were many Nymphs which were called Echo. First of all there was she that loved Narcissus, which for certain was changed into Voice, and answers those that travel in the Country where she was metamorphosed. Beside that there was one, an excellent Musician, and which we may rank among the ancient Pantomimes who counterfeited the speech of all men, the cry of all beasts, and the chirping of all birds: Pan fell in love with her, but could not obtain what he desired; she most unworthily scorned him, and what is more, boasted she understood Music better than he. That angered him so much, that he incited all the Shepherds to kill her: They cut her body into infinite pieces, which they scattered through all the world, lest they might be recomposed again. But the Muses which had been her friends, ordered that they should all imitate all manner of sounds, as she did while she lived. Pan was thereby sufficiently punished: for whereas before she shamed him but in one place, she doth it now every where; and counterfeits not only the sound of his Bagpipe, but also that of divers other instruments whereon he could never play: Thence it comes, that there are few places where there is not a Voice that answers us. But there is another thing worth your observation, which I am going to tell you. In one of the Fortunate Islands there was sometimes a very learned Fairy, which having the tuition of the persons of divers Princes and Knights that were her friends, found out a means to assist them suddenly in all manner of dangers, and yet not go out of her palace: she by the assistance of some spirits congealed a great quantity of Air, whereof she made many Conduits which she disposed into divers Cities, Mountains and Rivers, making them invisible to all people; and when she was to acquaint those she affected with any thing, she acquainted them by that means, so that in a small time she gave them to know what was to come, and gave them wholesome advices, and they could also answer her the same way. But she departing the world, there was no body could make use of her secret, though divers Magycians had tried what they could do in it. It is therefore come to pass, through the injury of time, that by little and little her long Conduits have been spent and broken to pieces in divers places; and when men speak now, the voice is carried thither, but it presently comes out again through the holes, as if it were some broken water-pipe, without going much further: If there be any places where the voice is returned to seven times, the reason is because it goes out of one pipe into another near it. Let us now put all this together, that in one place the Echo of Narcissus answers us, and in infinite others the members of the Echo of the God Pan, or the Channels of the Conduits. You would have me believe that, says Lysis: I shall sooner believe that I fly like Daedalus: Ovid never spoke any thing of this, you have it out of some Apocryphal book: As long as the Destinies shall be employed to spin out the thread of my days, I shall credit what the good old Authors say.  
Anselm, who was a very understanding person, and took it a kind of recreation to contradict Lysis, resumed the discourse to this effect. Do not you now run into a new folly in speaking of the Destinies? You believe they have nothing else to do but to spin out your life: must they not also spin mine and all other men's? In what manner do you dispose of them? Tell me how they are all employed. The first holds the Distaff which hath the Flax on it, says Lysis, she wets her fingers and twists the thread: The second turns the Spindle to wind it upon: And the third is to cut it with the Scissors. Very good, says Anselm, is not that a strange absurdity? The Destinies being always a spinning as long as the life of a man lasts, can hold but one spindlefull at a time, and yet there are a hundred thousand lives that last at the same time. Is it not the same case as that of the Nymph Echo, which you think answers all the world? He who first advanced these two things, had he not a hollowness in his brain? and so many Poets as there have been since, have they not been blinded and besotted to follow him without any examination? Take another doctrine that I shall teach you. The Destinies, whether they are in heaven or in hell, are indeed charged with the ordering of our days to come, which fate hath prescribed; but they have neither Flax nor Spindle: They have a great Pannier, where there are almost as many Silkworms as there are men living on earth; all the threads of them are drawn and placed on a pair of windles: The first turns it, that it may be made into skains; the second comes and cuts sometimes one, sometimes another, with the shears; and the third makes provision of new ones, in stead of those that are finished or cut. Now the threads which are drawn from one only worm, are to wind the lives of those that are of the same lineage; and when there is no more silk about the Bottom, it signifies that race is at an end. There is yet another thing to be considered, and that is, That for to determine a life 'tis not absolutely necessary that the thread should be cut, it happens often that it breaks, and then it is that we d●e before our time by some accident which our horoscope did not seem to portend. But it is to be observed that they are always the finest threads which break, as it happens here on earth that the men of the most piercing wits live shortest.  
I never heard any thing of all you have said, then cry●d out Lysis. You are an Heretic in Poetry; you falsify the texts of Homer and Virgil, and entertain us with corrupt doctrine. Go elsewhere, and seek such minds as you shall be able to seduce: I am too firm in what I believe, to be shaken by your opinions, which possibly are pumped out of some modern Author, who is not followed by any other.  
You are angry already, says Anselm, but there is a great deal more to come: Assure yourself, that neither in what you have said, nor in what I have, there is any thing of truth. There is no such thing as a Nymph Echo that answers us: 'tis our own voice, which retained in some concavity, returns again, as the light of the sun is retorted by the reflection of the place where it casts its rays. Nor is there any Parque or Destiny: and it is only the pleasure of God, that makes our lives longer or shorter. But we will dismiss that point for the present, and talk of something whence there shall not arise so much contestation between us. Lysis, who would not seek the occasion of a quarrel with a person whom he had much need of, was very well pleased to change discourse, and thereupon asked where his Cousin was. Anselm told him that he had left him at his house, where he had met a certain friend that stayed him: but that he would neither sup nor lodge there, though he had much entreated him; and that he was desirous to go to the Inn where he had set up his horse in the morning. Lysis swore by the god Pan that he would not go seek him there, and that he would go back into a little Hut which he had chosen for his habitation: conceiving that Adrian would do nothing but importune him to return into the City. Anselm answered him, that haply his persuasions might be so effectual with him, as that they should induce him to turn Shepherd: He saw some likelihood of it: yet would he not return so soon, saying the sun was yet too high, and that Shepherds ought not to retire till Vesper which is their star began to appear.  
Though Lysis said this, yet Anselm ceased not endeavouring to get him away immediately to St. Cloud, as he had promised Adrian: but he therein lost his labour, this Shepherd made a great conscience of violating any Pastoral customs. Anselm therefore being resolved to pass away the time with him, they entertained themselves upon divers subjects: And among other things, Lysis not being able to forget his Love, stumbled on this. But thou comest from that St. Cloud, gentle Shepherd! hast not thou seen the beautiful Catherine du Verger? And presently correcting himself, and stamping on the ground with his foot, Ah! unhappy man that I am, I have named her! woe is me, I have named her! ah indiscreet shepherd that I am! A Lover! whom respect obliges to silence: must I, ah! must I discover a fire which should always be covered with its own ashes?  
What, is it du Verger that you love there? says Anselm: I swear I was almost in suspect of it. But why would you conceal it so much? should not I have discovered it at last? You have asked me for a Picture of your Mistress, could I draw it without knowing her? Thou art in the right, replies Lysis, with a countenance not so sad: And prithee, if I had not named that Fair one, what other couldst thou conceive capable to enslave me? However I must tell thee, that I should have been glad that none knew my flame, before her who hath caused it. That Beauty it seems is yet ignorant of the hurt she hath done you, says Anselm. Dost thou think otherwise? answers Lysis. Yet I am sure my eyes have spoken enough of it; and all the times that I have passed before her, I have sighed so loud, that I believe I might have been heard to the other world. Henceforward, to give her clearer testimonies of my love, I will always wear of her Colours, if I can learn what they are. Dost not thou know them? I do, answers Anselm, I may very well know them, for I do much frequent Madam Angelica's, whose servant she is. A servant! replies Lysis all in a fury: what unworthy name is that for her that is the ●●stress of the whole world! Say that she is a Companion of the Nymph Angelica. I will indeed, Master Lewis, I shall not fail henceforth, replies Anselm. How's that! says Lysis, retiring three steps backward: wilt thou never make an end of affronting me? Knowest thou not that I am called the Shepherd Lysis? and that these names of Sir, Master, and My Lord, are only for those despicable people that live in Cities? I beg your pardon, says Anselm, my tongue goes before my wit: For to appease you, I am to give you to understand that the Shepherdess Charite, who is no more called Catherine du Verger, Companion, and not servant of the Nymph, not the Lady Angelica, and Mistress of the Shepherd Lysis, and not of Master Lewis, hath chosen Red as her most favourite colour: she hath shoestrings of it, and she hath Lace of the same colour at her Busk, and 'tis not Carnation I am sure of it; if you will not believe it, go and see.  
Whereupon Lysis putting on a countenance inclining to a smile, came and embraced Anselm, and said to him, I believe thee, courteous Shepherd, my only assistance! I thank thee for this signal favour thou dost me! And as by chance the Sun being near setting appeared all red, and made the clouds all about appear so too, the Shepherd beholding it presently cried out, It is easily seen that the incomparable Charite loves red: The heaven, which honours her, will not be adorned with any other colour; and if it be considered well, I believe Nature, which is not pleased but in pleasing her, communicates redness to all things that are subject to her: It will be found that this year there are more red Flowers then yellow, or white, or blue: There hath not been such plenty of any Fruit as of Strawberries and Cherries; and there hath been great scarcity of Apples, unless it be those which are of a vermilion colour. I meditate thereon somewhat that is excellent and rare, such as never fell into the brains of Sylvander, the most knowing Shepherd of Lignon. But it's enough! let us return to the village, it is now time; for if I should stay here any longer, I should fear the loss of some of my sheep, being not yet provided of a Dog for to keep them. Let us go: behold the Sun lies him down in the waters.  
Anselm, who desired nothing so much as to get him away, seeing him in a good humour, led him into the way to St Cloud: And to try the subtlety of his spirit, said to him as they went along, But Shepherd! you have a strange opinion concerning the Sun: you think he goes to bed in the sea, and that he reposes himself there till the morrow that he shall rise for to continue his wont journey. That indeed is it that I believe of it, answers Lysis, and who doth not the like betrays much ignorance. Consider then a little thus thing, replies Anselm: Behold, the Sun sets on that side, and to morrow he will rise on the other, which is quite opposite: how is that done? There is as much way for to go thither, as he had dispatched before when he was above us: In what manner can he do it, if he rest himself upon a bed in the sea which the Nereids had prepared for him, or if he stay a banqueting with Neptune, as I believe you imagine? The bed or chair wherein he is, do they go forward while he stirs not out of the same place? But besides that, how does he go to his Orient? is it athwart the Earth that he returns thither? is that pierced through to make him a passage? We must grant it is so, answers Lysis: and though I have heard much talk of the Antipodes, I do not believe there are any other than those we see when we look into a Well. I have not so great appetite to your new Maxims, as that for them to discredit so many good Authors, from whom I learn that the Sun passes over the night in the sea: It's a thing so universally received, that the Poets of this age do not stick to avow it, though they would descent from all that their Predecessors have said. I will contest no further with you, replies Anselm, Clear but my mind of one doubt: If the Sun be all night in the sea, hidden in some cave, how can he communicate his light to the Moon? for they say, that if she be sometimes full, and sometimes in her increase, 'tis according as the Sun enlightens her. Oh the blind minds of mortals! says Lysis: Is it not sufficiently known, that whereas there hath never been but one Sun in the heaven, there hath always been an infinite number on earth? and that at present there is one that hath more light than a hundred thousand others, which is the divine Charite? 'tis from her that the Moon borrows her light, and she is much more Sun than the Sun himself on high: so that when the Marigold beholds her, it looks strait up, and is ravished into an ecstasy: It does not know on which side it should direct its yellow and languishing leaves, and which is the true Sun, that it might follow it. Truly, says Anselm, this is such a new Astrology, as Sacrobosco never imagined: And you are able to comment on the Great Shepherd's Calendar: you can give the reason of Eclipses, Comets, and Meteors, and all other natural effects, without having recourse to any thing but your Mistress.  
As this dispute ended, they entered St. Cloud, and were presently at the Inn where Adrian was lodged, which was just at the Towns end: There was a world of people met them, all being astonished at the strange habit of Lysis, and at the sheep which he drove before him: but no body durst say any thing to him, seeing him with Anselm, who was there much respected, as being a person of quality. Adrian who waited for them at the Inn-gate, received them very courteously, being very joyful that his Cousin came with so good a will. The first thing that Lysis did, was to provide a Stable for his Flock: there was one presently assigned him, where he locks it up, and afterwards returns to Anselm, who was talking with Adrian; and taking him aside, put him in mind of drawing the Picture of Charite, seeing he knew her, and had the means to see her often. Anselm assured him that he had already a Copper-peece for that purpose, and that he would not rest till he had fallen in hand with it. But I suppose it a very hard piece of work, says Lysis: For as a man cannot behold the Sun but in a glass, so a man cannot see Charite but in what represents her. Open my breast, second Apelles! take out my Heart, her Figure is therein engraved, That shall be thy Original. But what do I say! I have no heart at all: and though I had, thou wouldst not commit that cruelty. Take example from every thing that approaches the beauty of my Mistress: I will teach thee how thou must guide thyself in they work: Make first those fine twists of gold which adorn her head, those inevitable snares, those hooks, those charms, and those chains which surprise hearts: Next paint me that Forehead, where Love is as it were seated in his Throne; below that put those two Bows of Ebony, and under them those two Suns which perpetually dart forth arrows and flames: And then in the midst shall rise up that fair Nose, which like a little Mountain separates the Cheeks, and that not without reason, seeing they continually striving which should be the fairest, would sometimes or other fall out, if they were not separated. Thou shalt make those pretty Cheeks, intermingled with Lilies and Roses: And then that little Mouth, whereof the Lips are branches of Coral. If it were decent to leave them half open, thou shouldst draw her Teeth, which are two rows of fine Pearl. But content thyself with this, and afterwards there is only the Neck to do, and her fair snowy Bosom.  
When Anselm had heard this fine discourse, as he was a person of the greatest courtesy in the world, so he presently conceived an excellent Invention as to this Picture: and being impatient till he were at his own house to fall about it, he took leave of Lysis. When he was departed, Adrian believing that the folly of his Cousin proceeded from over-fasting, had a mind to make him good cheer, and asked him if he could not feed on a dish of Carp and Pikes, because it was Saturn-day. He considered a little thereupon, and smiling to himself said, The time is come that I shall do the gallantry which I erewhile boasted I would: I will outvie the fidelity of Sirenus and Celadon, and do a thing that shall be eternally memorable. No, no, Cousin, I am not for the Fish you have named: Let me have a Dish of Gurnards', some Salmon, some Shrimps, and some Beetroot or Carrots: And for, Fruits, give me only Cherries, and Apples of Calleville. And do not believe that this is without mysteries: I will eat nothing but what is red, because the fair Charite loves no colour but that. Alas! what excellent mystery is this? says Adrian: What shall we do, if we cannot find what you now ask for? I will rather starve then eat any thing else, answers Lysis: the Die is already cast for't, I am resolved. And so going into the Kitchen; Dear Comus, God of banqueting! says he to the Cook, Let me have what I have called for. Adrian being gone in with him, gave order for the providing of Beet-roots and Crabs, for to please him; and so led him into a Chamber where the cloth was laid. When he was there, he considered it all over; and finding all painted with red, he thought in himself it was very well; but that he would not lie there, unless they brought in another Bed, because that which was there was green: He went into another chamber, where finding a red one, he said he would have it removed into his own chamber. Adrian, who would not they should be at the pains to take it down, began to contradict him, and would have him to supper without any further troubling himself about that. But he told him, he would by no means hear of it, and so made unto him this fair complaint: How? Cousin, are you so barbarously minded, that you will not grant a Lover a small satisfaction that he desires? Ha! I see now you have a heart of stone, and that a fair Eye never touched you: Would you have me commit this crime, to make use of any other colour then that of my Mistress? I will die rather than offend that fair one: if I have a thought guilty of it, it is a Traitor. But what do I dream on, stupid man that I am! I wear the same colour as the bed in my chamber, which I will presently be rid of: shall it be said that I preserve it? No, no, my fortitude show thyself! While he said this, he took his Sho●-strings, which were green, and cast them out at the window: As for Garters, he had not any, for his Breeches came down below the calf of his leg. Alas, what folly is this! says Adrian: why do you cast away those Strings, which might well have served one of my little children? Now you talk of Love, we shall have somewhat to do with you: if you will have all red, you must always have Dyers at your breech, or else you must have your train after you like some great man. Cannot one sleep as well in a green bed as another? O Cousin! says Lysis, how extremely are you mistaken! and all because you have not read good Authors: I am confident you never meddled with my Astraea, and that you never read any thing but your Shop-books. Cannot you judge by what charms I am forced to have an aversion to this green bed? Besides that it is not of my Mistress' colour, do not you see that green is despised for many reasons? As long as Fruits are green, they are not fit to be eaten; while the Wheat is green, it is not ready for the sickle: Those which are defeated in a business, wear the green Bonnet; and out of a certain contempt, all your Close-stool cushions are of green Serge. But that which is most considerable, Green is the colour which the Turks honour, and we must hate what those people love, as being bruit beasts who know nothing of Love, or a Shepherd's life. As for red, the amiable colour, the flesh and blood which sustain our life are of it, the lips and cheeks of Charite wear it. That is the reason I desire that even my Sheets, my Tablecloths, my Napkias, my Shirts, and my Handkerchiefs might be red, if possible.  
As he said so, there stood behind him a little Bar-boy, that had a Napkin on his arm, and a little light Cap on: who asked him, Sir! would not you have a red Nose too? We have good wine in the house to paint it withal. At which Lysis smiling, answered, Thou wouldst laugh, little Footboy of Ganymedes! Observe what I say, and bring me somebody to change the Bed. This is handsome: For God's sake, says Adrian, let him have his will.  
There came presently two Servant-maids, who took down the Cuatains and Vallands of both Beds, and put the red into the Shepherd's chamber. In the mean while he fat down at the Table with his Cousin, and Supper was brought in: There were some Beet-roots fried, and some cold in a Salad, whereof Lysis filled his belly: but as for the Crabs, seeing that within they were all white, and were only red without, he left them for Adrian. There waited at the Table a good big Servant-maid, who took the pot and the glass for to give him to drink: but he perceiving it was white-wine that she filled, Take it away, says he, Nymph of the Kitchen! it is not of Charite's colour: Give me some Claret, fair Goddess of the Pottage-pot! or else we shall not be good friends. Nay, for this time he is somewhat in the right, says Adrian: Evening red, and morning grey, denotes the Pilgrim a fair day. Men say that in relation to the weather: but for my part, I apply it also to wine. Yet do not cast away that wine, I pray, as you did your Shoestrings: we must not abuse God's creatures. When Adrian had spoken thus, they took order that Claret-wine should be brought him, whereof Lysis drank with much satisfaction.  
Supper ended, he began to walk up and down without saying aught to any body; and at length his Cousin prevailed so far with him, that he put off his clothes and went to bed. A while after Adrian went out of that chamber, making all fast, and went to bed in another. His Ward had found him so much trouble, that he fell asleep as soon as his head was laid on the pillow: but it was not so with the amorous Shepherd, who imagined that his eyes were little stars upon earth, and that they ought to twinkle all night like those in heaven.  
But he was not the only man that was awake that night in St. Cloud: there were a many more, to whom his company had been very serviceable. That Shepherd whom he had spoken to in the fields, had acquainted his Master, who was a stupid Country-Clown, with all the strange discourses which had passed between them. This fellow went and related all again to nine or ten of his own quality, and the report thereof seized a many zealous devout women. All the superstitious multitude addressed themselves to the Shepherd, who repeated the same things divers times from point to point: He not being wanting as to the relation, nor they as to audience. He told them, that he who had come to him was so beautiful and so brave, that he took him at first for an Angel: but that having foretold him so much mischief, he took him for some Devil, who had gotten some sheep, and had a sheephook in his hand, so to appear less terrible, and make him believe he was of his condition. In fine, all that we can judge of what he hath said to me, (goes he on) is, That that cursed Woman, which is here for to massacre all men, and bring the world to an end, can be no other than the wife of Antichrist, and I believe that he whom I have spoken with is Antichrist himself, for he boasts that he can do great matters. As the Shepherd had said thus, there was one Country-fellow more resolute than the rest, who drew aside some of his companions, and remonstrated to them, how that that man should not be credited so lightly, though he had always been of a good reputation; and that the honestest men did sometimes lie, whether out of hope of gain, or otherwise. Upon that account they all went to him, and made a world of questions to him for to try him. He seeing that they did not sufficiently credit his discourses, began to weep of very grief, making this complaint. Alas, my good friends! what have I done to you, that you should doubt of what I tell you? I would to God it were not so true! but I never lied less in my life.  
Presently a woman of the village, who thought herself the most knowing among them, interrupted him, and said, Alack my friend Richard! tell me all: Sayest thou not that this old she-Devil must kill all the men? Doubtless, replies the Shepherd: I have been told nothing that she should do to the women. Alack! what great pity it is, replies the woman: what shall we do here by ourselves? what's a woman without a man? she is but a Spindle without Flax, or like an Oven without an Oven-fork. 'Twere better she should take some of both, and that the shortest cut were drawn who should be eaten first. To these fair complaints the other Gossips added others, and that with so much weeping and sobbing, that the whole house where they were did echo again.  
The Shepherd Richard thinking to comfort them, bid them not be so much troubled; that they should not be long without Husbands, for they should go after them, seeing the world was shortly to end. But shall that be by fire, says the master of the house, shall we all burn together? If I should put wet sheets on the top of my house as I did when my neighbour's house was a fire, should not I save myself? I fear me, says Richard, that we must be destroyed by water: methinks the vision threatened such a thing. And as he spoke the word, a light appeared in the sky, which smit the sight of all that were present, and immediately it began to rain. Ah! we need no more doubt of it, cried out a Waterman, behold the deluge approaches: I will go to the river with a horse, for to draw my Boat ashore; if I can, I'll bring it up to the top of my chimney, where I will expect till the water rise to that height, and that it carry me where God pleases.  
As he had done saying so, yet without any great desire to do it, the Master of the house's Son approving the invention, would needs practise somewhat that were like it. 'Twas a Lad of some sixteen years of age, of whom it might have been said that there were wiser at six. Having gotten a great washing-tub, he made a shift to get it up to the top of the house, and placed himself in it as if it had been a Boat. All this he did without speaking aught to any body, for fear some body should dispute with him for the safety of this fine Vessel. In the mean while the women altogether comfortless, resolved among themselves to go to Mount Valerian to the Hermit's, and the men would do the like, saying that the water could not so soon rise to the top of that mountain, and that till than they should be safe enough.  
Thereupon they had an infinity of excellent considerations: A Churchwarden of the Parish that was there, came and made this complaint. Alas! to what purpose have we so much troubled ourselves, my good Parishioners, about the repairing and adorning of our Church? is it not so much lost, seeing Antichrist will convert it into stables? Ah! how should we have spared that pains, if we had known the world should end so soon? I who have quite new built my house, and have fasted so much to spare somewhat, had it not been better that I had enjoyed what God hath sent me? Ah! how doth man purpose, and God dispose! And you that dress the Vineyards, and have planted so many Stocks, you shall not drink of the wine, but the dog of Antichrist shall devour it. Ought I not to think that he will shortly come, seeing that when I went a while since to Paris with some Apricocks to my Landlord, I heard his coming cried openly upon the New-bridge by the Almanack-sellers? I wish now I had bought the book of it: I remember I heard two or three leaves of it read by one that held it: 'Twas the most terrible thing that can be imagined, and it must needs have been some new Prophet that had composed it. In fine, the time of our ruin is come upon us: And yet my Gossip, the Mistress of the house, sticks not to be just now driving a buck, and dreams not that the Linen she washes is only to wipe the moustaches of the great Tyrant that we expect.  
These words were heard with as much attention as if they had been prophecies; and yet the Mistress of the house forsook not her Bucking-tub: she was a woman so resolved, that when she once began a thing, she would go through with it. The rain which fell down abundantly did not strike so much fear into her as the others; and being obliged to be still stooping near the fire, she thought not of any thing but her work. But she had put into the fire a certain sort of wood that crackled after a strange manner, and a great coal flew out of the fire and lighted on her coat: Presently after feeling the heat, she cried out, Ah! I burn, I burn! the world will be destroyed by fire. He who was most amazed was her son, who was upon the top of the house, where he had been sufficiently wet, and held his hands together, shaking his teeth in expectation of what should happen. Assoon as he heard them cry, that the world was not to perish by water but by fire, his transportation was so strange, that he cast himself down together with the Tub, which stayed not much after him, but soon tumbled down: And if by chance there had not been a dunghill in the yard, whereon he fell, he had without dispute broke his neck. His fall was easily perceived, and every one hearing him cry, they went to succour him, but they found he had more fear than received hurt. All being entered into the house, one of the Village spoke these sententious words: What do we fear so much? if we die not to day, we shall die to morrow, it is the way we must go sooner or later: Let us not climb up on the tops of our houses, nor yet to the mountains, and leave all at random: Hang all! we should be more jovial: It is enough that the Pedees' of Antichrist have the vintage of this year, let us not leave them the wine we have already, let us rather drink it (my dear friends!) when we have taken a little of it, we shall know no more care, we shall not think so much on our sorrows, and we shall die more gently.  
This advice being approved, the good man of the house went himself down into the Cellar, and all the rest followed him with tankards and pitchers; and having struck out the heads of the Pipes, they drank so much, that they in a manner knew not what they did. Afterwards they brought to the women what wine, remained, and they in like manner invited one the other to drink, saying at every word, Ah! we'll burst rather than leave a drop to the fornicator Antichrist. So all the wine was drunk: which now failing, and not raining so much, it began to dawn. Their fear began then to diminish a little, and they were so bold as to go into the street, where they perceived that all the water ran along the channel, which soon smothered all further fear of the deluge. But the wine flying up into their brains, furnished them with a new resolution: And the most witty among them, laughing at the fear passed, tells them, that he could not conceive for what reason they should be so fearful, and how they could imagine the end of the world to be so near: For (continued he) we fear the Deluge and Antichrist both together: If all the Earth were destroyed, what should that false Prophet have to do here? You see that all this cannot stand together: and seeing he must come at least seven years before the end of the world, as I believe I have heard affirmed, we have yet some time to live.  
These words were approved by all the rout, only there was a little grambling at him that said them, because he had so long studied for this fine advice. Thereupon those that were most drunk went and slept; and the rest hearing the last toll to Matins, went to the celebration of a low Mass. Lysis his Landlord, who was a very good Catholic, was there also. When they had done their prayers, they came and acquainted him with what news they had. That Shepherd whom Lysis had so terrified, described his habit and countenance, so that the Innkeeper knew whom they would speak of, and laughing said, Alas, my friends, you are of a very easy belief, to have credited what hath been told you not by an Angel, nor yet an evil spirit, nor yet a wise man, but the most fool of all men, and who the last night lodged at my house: I well know his madness, and by and by you shall see the truth of it. As he spoke thus, there were others in the Church, who said it was true, that such a one as the Shepherd had described lodged in his house, and that the last night they had seen him go in there. The Countrypeople were hereby convinced they had been deceived, and were so ashamed of it, that they would have given somewhat they had not spoken of the fear they had been in the night before. The Parson who saw them talking with great attention, would needs know what the matter was: which when they had related to him, he made a good exhortation to those strayed sheep, and showed them how that they should not believe Impostors; and that though there be nothing more certain than the last Judgement, yet there is nothing more uncertain than the time it shall be. Which done, he dismissed them in peace with his benediction.  
Being returned to the house where they had spent the night, they awoke those that slept, and among the rest the good man of the house, whom they communicated with what they had learned. When he saw it was a Fool had caused all this their fear, and that his Shephered had been the first deceived, and had afterwards deceived the rest, he became furiously angry, and stirred up all the company against him, so that they began to beat the poor fellow, and had murdered him with their fists, if he had not somewhat appeased them by his sad complaints, making it appear above all things that he had done nothing maliciously, and that all the hurt they had received was that they had had a sleepless night of it; and that he was the cause of that good work they had done in serving of God, which was meritorious, and whereof they should one day receive the comfort. 'Tis true, replies his master: but thou dost not withal say that all my good wine is by that means gone, Nor do I mean to lose it, I intent those that have drunk it shall return it me. While he spoke that, he who had drunk the best part was disgorging behind the door: 'Tis not in that manner (continues he) that I would have it returned; you must all come to proportion, of the Judge shall hear of it: Will you have me now drink nothing but water, or that I send to the Tavern for dashed wine? You must every one of you presently carry me to your houses, and give me of yours. He had no sooner ended this discourse, but his wife pursues with the choicest injuries all those that had drunk of their wine: So that to avoid the tempest, which was more heavy than that of the night, they left them there and went to their homes.  
The report of the Adventure was presently spread abroad, and especially among the Citizens of Paris who were at St. Cloud. They wished the day somewhat further spent, that they might see those that had been so neatly deceived. They came to high Mass: which ended, and they gone out of the Church, they were infinitely jeered. Yet I know not which prevailed more with them, whether the indignation of having been so troubled all night, and of seeing themselves still assaulted by so many abuses, or the joy of being assured that the world should not end so soon as they had believed, and that they had time enough for the Vintage. Anselm and Adrian were at Church, and were extremely astonished at the troubles which Lysis had already caused in St. Cloud. But that need not seem so strange: For persons of greater understanding than the people of a Country-village might be deceived, if they were soberly entertained with the extravagances of Poetry; and there would be many who would innocently believe what should be told them of the fire, ice, chains, and so many other imaginary punishments of passionate persons. Anselm asked Adrian where he had left his Cousin? He answered, that he was a-bed, but that he had barricadoed himself in his chamber; and when he had asked him whether he would go to Mass, he told him that he would rest himself yet a while: so that he had left him, knowing that sleep would do him no hurt. Anselm was of opinion that they should go and see whether he would rise: And in this deliberation they walked to the Inn, and went to Lysis' chamber-door. Adrian opened it with the Key, but it was bolted within. Anselm spoke, and prayed the amorous Shepherd to let him in. Knowing presently the voice of his best friend, he opened to him: And having bidden good morrow to his Cousin and him, he put on his clothes, telling them for excuse for his not being more early, that all night he had not put his eyes together, and that he began to be sleepy at the break of day. However that is not well done, Cousin, says Adrian: there is no more Masses to be said and you cannot hear any to day. Think you that God hath any need of those fancies wherewith you entertain yourself? Yet this is past, and there is no remedy: But what (when I think on't) if you went to Church, would you go in that masking habit which you put on? Think you that there are any Masks, or that they act Comedies in a consecrated place? Away with it presently, I will send for another for you. I will never put on any other than this, says Lysis: And I pray content yourself that I do not, as I did yesterday, desire one all red. Then turning him to Anselm, he cried out, O dear friend! what have I not done since I saw thee! Know then that I have gone through the noblest adventure in the world, and that I give checkmate to all the Lovers in Europe. The last night I ate nothing but what was red, and all my thoughts have been red. Am I not as good as my word, as to what I boasted to thee? 'Tis enough to have shown by one time, that it came from my invention to do it: Henceforward I will eat of any thing, and will not be any more scrupulous as to colour; it shall suffice me to wear always about me some little red Ribbon, in remembrance of Charite. But when I think on't, what an ample subject will there be here to exercise the pen that shall write my history! where could he have found a more noble matter? By this means shall not his discourse have those ornaments which are not seen in other books?  
Having finished this discourse, he sent to the Mercers for red Ribaning, and put some to his shoes instead of the green which he had cast away: And when he was all clothed, he asked Anselm whether he would come along with him into the fields, for he was going to lead out his Flock to graze. I pray stir not hence, says Adrian, but let us dine: Besides you are out of the story; here is no Flock for you, I have sold it to the master of the house, who causes all to be killed, and perhaps you shall eat your share of them. Lysis thereupon looked into the Yard, and saw a man cutting the throat of one of his sheep: which put him into such a choler, that he cried out presently, Ah cruel Cousin! what have I done to thee, that thou shouldst deal thus with me! Thou hast sold my dear Flock to these Barbarians, and there they massacre it. Ah innocent sheep! you will be no more the witnesses of my Loves. Alas! how was I delighted in your company! Yet I should be comforted, if they made you die upon some noble occasion: And if they offered you up at the Altar of some God, that is the worst could happen to you, nay you should have been reserved for a Sacrifice; you should have had the honour at least to die within some stately Temple, whereas now you die on a dunghill in a filthy yard. Ah Butcher! ah Executioner! stay the fury of thy knife, leave me some to comfort me. Ah! I see that thou never wert a Shepherd, and that thou never readst the Apotegms of Erasmus, where it is written, That the good Shepherd shears, but doth not flay his sheep. Ah poor Innocents'! that I have not here a Chalmia, to celebrate your death in sad and Elegiac Verses!  
Cease your complaints, says Anselm, taking him aside: You must not afflict yourself so much for the death of Beasts. We are not Disciples of Pythagoras, nor do we believe as he did, that the soul of our Grandfather is in the body of a Calf. Why do Shepherds breed up Sheep, but to sell them? we may have others in stead of those: And if we should have none at all, is it a prodigy to see a Shepherd without a Flock? it suffices that he sometimes hath had one. A Gentleman that hath had Soldiers under his conduct, is still called Captain, though his Troops be disbanded, because he hath showed himself capable of being so. You speak well, says Lysis: And when I think on't, I saw you yesterday in the fields that you had no Flock, yet I called you Shepherd: I have always believed you to be one, for you speak with a Courtezy, which is not common but to us. Anselm unwilling to humour him then, said to him, You were mistaken in calling me Shepherd, for I am not one; and there is no person of quality in the Country that is so, unless it be you. I do not desire you should call me otherwise then Anselm; and for my qualities, there is not any one I more esteem then that of your Friend and Servant. Have you not seen that they are only Country-Clowns that keep Sheep all hereabouts? I grant what you say, courteous Anselm! says Lysis: but my design should be to restore to its splendour that happy condition, and to cause that the most noble and rich personages should not disdain it; to the end that men may no longer study how to plead and wage war, and that they should speak no more of any thing but Love. Would not you willingly second me in it? When men shall see us both of an opinion, will not every one imitate us? Let us now talk a little of this, now the time is propitious, and that Adrian is gone down to see if dinner be ready. That I may conceal nothing from you, replies Anselm, know that it would be very ill looked upon to turn Shepherds in a place so near Paris as this, whither all the Parisians ordinarily come. We are not far enough from ambition and avarice to lead such an innocent life: were it not for that, I should be of the design. Is there so much to do, says Lysis? For to shorten the pains which we shall have to persuade a people to receive new customs, let us go into a place where those which we would follow have been already practised: There are many Countries in the world where men live in a Pastoral way: Let us go into Arcadia, gentle Anselm! it is a Country much esteemed by the Gods, they ordinarily live there among men. We must pass the Sea to go thither, says Anselm, and I do not love to see ships but in the haven; I would not be in a place whence a man cannot come away when he pleases, nor get on a horse which a man can lead by the tail. When one is there, he is much the better to say, I shake, I am afraid, I am ill at the heart! I would return to our house! No body hears you; or if any do, they abuse you. Let us go then, replies Lysis, into the Plains of Leon, along the River Ezla, where the disgraced Sirenus hath shed so many tears. That is yet too far, says, Anselm: and besides, we shall not agree well with the arrogant humour of the Spaniards. You will then stay in France, says Lysis: Well then, there is nothing but may be done. I know many Provinces where there are brave Shepherds. I have lately read a book called the Pastorals of Vesper, wherein are described the Loves of certain Shepherds of Tourain? Shall we go into that Country? they say it is the Garden of France. Yet let me tell you, these Shepherds whose history I have seen live a little too rustickly for us: There is nothing commendable in them, unless it be that they love faithfully. What do I dream on all this while, or have I reserved it as the best till last! 'Tis into the Country of Forests that we must go, near the ancient City of Lions on the westside: There we shall find the Druid Adamas, who dispenses with much of his gravity, the better to entertain strangers: We shall see Celadon, Sylvander, and Lycidas, and Astraea, Diana, and Phillis. I leave it to you to imagine how much we shall be taken with their conversation, seeing the relation of their History is so noble, that in reading it I have often wept for joy. But how confident am I to refute the reasons of the inconstant Hylas, and dispute against him with more heat than Sylvander! And if he do not confess himself vanquished by my words, I swear to you that I shall not abstain from blows; for I should not brook it, that that little Rascal should deride the fidelity of Thyrsis. Moreover I shall not appear there as a stranger; for I know all that is passed there these many years, and the Shepherds shall not relate their Loves to me. It is more than three years that I conceived myself among them, for I was in a company where the young men and maids took their names out of Astraea, and our entertainment was a perpetual Pastoral: insomuch that I may truly say that it was there I went to School to learn to be a Shepherd.  
Anselm hearing this discourse, had much ado to keep from laughing, yet could he not but make Lysis this answer: I am willing to go into Forests, I know that the sojourn will be very delightful, and I doubt not but we shall find there abundance of Shepherds and Shepherdesses: but as for those whom you name, it is most certain we shall not meet them there; they lived in the time of Mercueur, reckon how long it may be since they are dead. How say you! replies Lysis: do you affirm that in jest, or for want of judgement? The Author of the Pastorals of Forests, doth he not dedicate an Epistle in the beginning of his first book to the Shepherdess Astraea, and in the second another to the Shepherd Celadon? Doth he not speak to them as to persons yet alive? Besides, do you not see that their history is not yet finished? Celadon hath not obtained the favour of his Mistress: He personates Alexis in the fourth and last book of him, who hath begun to put down his adventures in writing: For as to what may be in the Books which others have written of it since, or may do hereafter, as if they proceeded from the true Historian of Lignon, I am not obliged to believe them. I think, if Celadon had married Astraea, or had died, as you say, the Author of this History would have mentioned it; and that is it confirms my belief the more.  
It must be supposed that Anselm would have been much to blame, if he had endeavoured to deprive Lysis of such a rare and excellent opinion, therefore did he not attempt it, but humoured him in it, to make more sport with him; affirming that all he said did more and more heighten his desire to be a Shepherd as he was, but that there was one thing troubled his mind extremely, which was, That if they should go to Forests, they must quit the conversation of the fair Charite, without which Lysis could not live. He answered, that he had much considered it; but that he hoped the first time he should speak to her, he would use such a charming persuasion to her, that she should consent to go with them and turn Shepherdess. Anselm said that were very well, if it could be obtained. And thereupon in comes Adrian, with the people of the house after him bringing up Dinner. He bade Lysis make haste to dine, that he might take him along with him to Paris, saying that his house was all in disorder when he was not at home, considering his wife was not of the best housewives; the Prentices were in league with the Servant-Maid, who would give them the key of the Cellar to drink up his wine; and if she would not give it them, they would go down half way the well, and pass through a little window which was there for to visit his Pipes. Lysis answered, There needed not so many words; that he might go if he would; that as for his part, he would not live any longer under his tuition, and that he was big enough to be without Guardian or Curator. Adrian believing he would stay there and continue in his follies, told him that if he would not go by fair means, he would carry him away by foul; that it was not so hard a matter to find a Coach, wherein he should be chained and fettered; and that when they were at Paris, he would clap him in prison at St. Martin's, where he should be whipped every day; or else send him to the Almshouse, to keep company with such fools as they dispose thither. At that Lysis was extremely angry, and his Cousin was no less: but Anselm by his prudence reconciled all; telling Adrian in particular, that as he had already remonstrated, the disposition of the Youngman could not be overcome by rigour, and that it were better to humour him. So that he conjured him to leave him to his custody a month or two, and he would desire nothing for his entertainment. Adrian believing it was necessary, for the dis-shepherding of him, that he should be with some honest man which would acquaint him with the world, consented to leave him to his care, seeing he was willing to venture the trouble of his importunity; and promised him a world of services in requital.  
Anselm having obtained his desire, sat at Table with them, and there was no dispute while they were at dinner: Only Adrian told Lysis, that he had resolved to leave him with Anselm, and charged him to obey him in all things as his master and benefactor. He promised him he would not fail, and seemed very joyful to be left in so good company. After dinner the Merchant took horse; and leave taken, returned to Paris. He was in hope the good disposition of Anselm would conduce much to reform that of Lysis; and he gave all the kindred this account of him, that they should have more comfort for the time to come, than they had had before. Yet Anselm transported with the impetuosities of Youth, which loves nothing so much as to pass away the time merrily, would not task himself so soon to take away his fancies; and in himself accused Adrian of a great injustice in desiring to deprive the world of the most excellent Fool that ever was; believing that if he should restore him to his understanding, it would have been a hard matter to reduce him to his folly. He resolved therefore to make sport with him as long as he should remain in the Country, being rich enough to give him his entertainment. And as our contentment is never perfect, if our friends are ignorant we receive it, and do not partake of it, he resolved to recommend to all his Acquaintance this gentle Personage, when he thought it convenient. Having made him quit the Inn, he led him through a many streets, to bring him to his own house. They were met by some who knew what had happened to the Countrypeople, who had so much feared the end of the world. They saw well enough that Lysis was he that had been the cause of it. His extraordinary habit which had been described to them, easily discovered him. The novelty of his clothing, and of his proportioned gate, obliged to follow him all the Townsmen of S. Cloud, who were then in the streets. They who had already seen him ran a great way before, that they might see him pass by again: the Boys througed at his heels, making a noise as those of Paris do at the riding of a man beaten by his wife. Anselm could not make them be quiet; and they had not so good luck as they had had the day before, when they were not followed by any, it being a working day. This malicious rout cast stones at Lyfis; so that receiving some hurt by one in his back, he could endure no longer, and turning back with his hat in his hand towards those that followed him, he said, Sirs! leave off your conduct of me, I protest you shall go no further; I beseech you no further ceremony; I take the favour for received.  
These words amazed both great and small, who understood no more the one than the other; and with the menaces which Anselm used at the same time, it prevailed with them to retire. Anselm admired the natural ingenuity of Lysis; and this was haply one of the best things had ever been heard from him. Being come home, he assigned him a pretty Chamber; and having left him certain Books, he desired him to pass away the afternoon in reading, while he in the mean time would go visit certain persons whither he thought not fit to bring him along.  
The End of the First Book.   

THE Anti-Romance; OR, THE HISTORY Of the SHEPHERD LYSIS.  
The Second Book.  
LYsis bestowed some time in pursuing the Books which Anselm had left him: But at length not allowing any conceptions any way comparable to his own, he would entertain himself no further with them; but in the midst of his fond imaginations, would take a walk in the Garden. And indeed he found not any Books that pleased him, they being Seneca, Plutarch, Du Vair, Montagne and Charon, which do not speak any thing of Romance. He affirmed that all was worth nothing; and that it was only Plutarch that he valued a little, because he said Romulus had been a Shepherd in his youth. When he had been at least two hours in the Garden, he had a great desire to go abroad, though Anselm had prayed him not to do it by any means. He found a little door, whose lock was not of the strongest, so that he easily opened it with a knife: It went out into a narrow street, where he had not gone twenty paces, but he perceives that so fair Charite, the source of his desires, who was returning all alone from some house where Angelica had sent her of an errand. However this recontre a little surprised him, yet did he not appear so fearful; and having an intention to speak to her, he chose rather to go towards her, then expect her. But presently a huge Country Clout-shoe, who lay, as it were in ambush for her at some door, came and cast himself on her, saying, Ha Catherine! I have thee! Thou must pay me the Kiss thou owest me, since last night that we played at Questions and Commands. Lysis seeing her fallen into the hands of a person so unworthy her, ran as fast as he could for to rescue her: But before he could come at her, she had been already kissed above ten times, whatever resistance she could make. Which put him into such a fury, that lifting up a stick he had in his hand, he discharged it about the ears of the Fellow; crying out, How now, filthy Satire! who hath taught you to be so presumptuous, as to profane the Coral of that fair Mouth? Go and profess love to she Goats, stinking Beast! The Clown feeling himself hurt, dismissed Charite, and flew at the collar of Lysis: He took away his staff, and did so measure his sides therewith, that he was convinced his safety lay in his feet; but the other pursuing fastened with him again, and threw him down, in which posture he gave him three or four kicks. He had bestowed a little more on him, had he not perceived Anselm coming with two Lacquays after him; which so frighted him, that he took his heels.  
Lysis being risen up, saw Anselm; and going as gently as if he had had all his bones bruised, went to tell him. Ah! that you had not come sooner! You might have assisted me against a Goat-footed god, which thought to have killed me. He would have forced Charite. and I endeavoured to deliver her out of his hands, or rather paws. The truth is, she got away while we were fight: but indeed I have got good blows, and have not relieved her but at the cost of my sides. What could I do against him alone? These Fawns are much stronger than men: they have the advantage in all things; and if your people should have run after this, they could not have overtaken him; he is as swift as those horses which they say that the wind Boreas had engendered. I am very much troubled at this unhappy adventure, says Anselm: but it is your own fault, you should not have gone abroad, I had desired you as much. The reason of it is, that in these parts they understand not what Shepherds of your quality mean: You saw a while ago, that I had much ado myself to defend you: And henceforward if we go out together, we will be sure to be well trained. I had not a while ago my servants about me, because I make no great difficulty here to walk abroad all alone, as well as at Paris, where there is more gravity required: But now I see it is not amiss for a man to have always people about him. But I pray tell me, why do you believe that he you fought with was a Satire? I perceived him a little, and he seemed to me as proper a Country-fellow as any hereabouts: He had breeches and doublet on, and do not you know that the Satyrs go all naked? Alas, how are you out of the way! replies Lysis: have you not well observed that it was a Satire disguised? He had only taken the garb of a Country-fellow, the more freely to come into this Town, and carry away Charite. For my part, I am certain his feet were cloven; and his doublet being unbuttoned, and his shirt open, I saw his breast was all hairy: And if all this were not so, the deformity of his countenance sufficiently discovered him. Well then, replies Anselm, I grant you it was a Satire, you have fe●t him better than I: Let us now see whether you are much hurt. Having so said, he conducted him home to his house, where the Shepherd being well stretched and chafed, perceived his hurt not so great as he had imagined: And when they asked him which side pained him most, he pointed to the right side; but the people assuring him that they could not perceive any bruise there, Then (said he) I think 'tis the other. To cure him perfectly of his imaginary evil, Anselm caused him to be rubbed all over with a certain Unguent that did him neither good nor hurt; and in the mean time while Supper was preparing, he went and shut himself into his Cabinet for to perfect Charite's Picture, whereon he had been at work from betimes in the morning.  
Assoon as he had done, he returned to Lysis; and being both at supper, he told him that he had finished his work. This news put him into that impatience, that his Host was fain to shorten his meal to half of his wont, that he might show him that so excellent Peace. The Study being opened, Lysis entered therein with as much respect and veneration as if it had been a Temple; and Anselm showing him the Copper-piece whereon he had wrought, our passionate Lover beheld it a long time with an extreme attention: But at last crying out like one amazed, he said, I do not apprehend this, Anselm! You have mistaken, and given me one Picture instead of another. You are deceived, answers he: Do not you see well enough by this candle we have; or will you have me cause four or five more to be brought, that so you may the better see how to judge of the Picture? Are you so blind, that you do not perceive this to be the face of Charite? and that Du Moustier himself could not draw it better? But how do you conceive it? replies Lysis: I see there are Chains, and Suns, and Flowers; 'tis not a Face. I will make you understand all in one word, says Anselm: Do not you see that I have done all according to your directions, and that I have represented all the features of Charite's beauty in the same manner as you have expressed them to me? Whereupon Lysis discovering the artifice of the excellent Painter, began to observe in order all the parts of the Picture, which had amazed him when at first sight he beheld them all confusedly. Anselm had in this business acted a piece of ingenious knavery; observing what the Shepherd had told him of the beauty of his Mistress, and imitating the extravagant descriptions of the Poets, he had painted a Face, which instead of being of a flesh-colour, was of a complexion white as snow; There were two branches of Coral at the opening of the Mouth; and upon each Cheek a Lily and a Rose, crossing one the other: Where there should have been Eyes, there was neither white nor apple, but two Suns sending forth beams, among which were observed certain flames and darts: The Eyebrows were black as Ebony, and were made like two Bows, where the Painter had not forgotten to express the holding-place in the middle, that they might the better be observed: Above that was the Forehead, smooth as a piece of Ice; at the top of which was Love, like a little Child, seated in his throne. And to add perfection to the work, the Hair floated about all this in divers manners: some of it was made like Chains of Gold; othersome twisted, and made like networks; and in many places there hanged lines, with hooks ready baited. There were a many Hearts taken with the bait, and one bigger than all the rest, which hanged down below the left Cheek, so that it seemed to supply the place of a Pendant to that rare Beauty. This is mine own Heart! cries out Lysis, when he saw it: I know it again: How judiciously is it placed in this part! Now that it is so near Charite's Ear, it will continually represent unto her my sufferings.  
Have I not had reason to conceive that you would like my work very well, replies Anselm? I can without vanity affirm that the fancy is incomparable. There was never any that found out the way of painting the beauties of faces by a Poetical figure: This aught to be called a Picture by Metaphor. Let me embrace you, my dear friend! says Lysis, after a little recollection apart: I must confess you have given an incomparable proof of your ingenuity. That beautiful face of Charite could not be painted but by Metaphor. We had before considered that these features could not be represented naturally. O Painter more excellent than Apelles, Protogenes, and Parrhasius! I do not judge this a Monster, as I did erewhiles: I hold it a thing extreme rational, and very full of art.  
The satisfaction of Lysis discovered itself by a many such other expressions; and as for the excellent Picture, he would preserve it as long as he lived. Anselm disposed it into a Box, lest it might receive any hurt; and than it was he received the highest thanks that could be for the pains he had taken. As he was ruminating on his invention, he said to Lysis, that as they had metaphorically represented the fair Charite, so might be painted any ill-favoured woman. She should have on a Periwig of Serpents like Megaera; or if she might be allowed hair, they should be big, and standing upright like the bristly head of a Wildbore: At which there should be chained nothing but Lice and Nits. Her Eyes should be like two washed Prunes, about which there should be a quantity of birdlime for to catch the Files that should come near it. Her Mouth should be like the shutting of a Carrier's pouch; and the Complexion should be like the folds of an old Boot. And so for the rest, which I refer to the consideration of more excellent wits.  
Lysis thought all this very ingenious, yet nothing witnessed his approbation but a short smile; because indeed he was so taken up with Charite's Picture, that he bestowed not much of his thoughts on any thing else. When bedtime was come, there was a little Chamber assigned him alone, for he desired it should be so. He made fast the door and went to bed, but it was a long time ere he could sleep. He had left the candle (which was a good big one) burning, that he might consider his Picture; and it is not easily imaginable what praises he still gave the Painter, whose invention seemed to him wholly divine. He was thinking within himself, that as Poetry was called a speaking Picture, so painting might be called a dumb Poesy. So that he was clearly of opinion, that Painting and Poetry were well met, and that both of them discovered themselves in terms distinct and intelligible enough to good wits.  
Anselm having understood that he had not put out the candle, was somewhat troubled, for he was afraid lest he might set the house on fire. But though he was sufficiently a fool, yet did he not advance so far; and unless it were for some extravagancy that the betrayed in mistaking all the Fables of the Poets for real truths, and thinking men should live as the Heroes in Romances, he appeared rational enough; and besides had judgement enough to know what could hurt him, or was for his good. Nevertheless the servants were charged to be careful; and so at length the candle being spent, every one went to his rest and slept, as he did also. The next morning he rise, and gave his Entertainer a visit, who was making himself ready. While Anselm was entertaining him with some curious and choice discourses concerning the divers effects of Love, there entered into the Court a Gentleman of his acquaintance, called Montenor, whom he immediately went to entertain, and was with him ere he was off horseback. He carried him into the Hall, speaking by his gladness the obligation he laid on him, in that he had been at the pains to come to his house. Montenor told him that he came out of Paris betimes, for two reasons: The one, to enjoy the cool of the day; and the other (which was the stronger inducement) was, the likelier means he had to find him, which he was in some impatience till he had done.  
While they were thus engaged, Lysis desirous to know who it was, entered the place where they were, and saluted the Company very courteously. Montenor was somewhat astonished at his garb and mode; but presumed not to speak of him to Anselm, because the other was somewhat near, as also because he was entering into a discourse of that importance, that he could not wave it. I am very certain, says Anselm, that besides your desire to give me a visit, there is some particular occasion hath caused your coming hither. So that the other found himself obliged to discover what burdened his mind, in these words.  
I must confess (says he to him) that I come hither partly upon the occasion of an afflicted person, on whom there must be compassion shown, or she must not be heard complain. That you may not languish in expectation, 'tis Geneura that I speak of: Cast but your eyes on the vehemence of the affection she hath always born you, and you will perceive, that not being able to beget any thing in you that were not like it, the disquiet she is in to see herself forsaken must needs be extreme. They say that in Love the separation of Bodies is not truly absence, seeing there may be visits of Thoughts at every moment: But when a Lover absents himself absolutely, 'tis then that his affections and inclinations wander from the Object on which they should be fastened. Geneura is an example of this; and though you are now but at the distance of eight or nine miles from her, she hath more to suffer then at other times when you were in Touraine, or in Brittany; for than she was assured, that if in the night she dreamt of you, you did no less of her; and that so it seemed your minds being disengaged, your bodies gave one the other the meeting at half way. But now that she knows that you have quite forgotten her, he that would comfort her contributes to her despair; and she knows so much affliction, that for to learn how to die, there is no more required then to suffer the like. This hath made such an impression on me, that I promised her to come to you to represent part of her sorrows, that you might be induced to give her a visit, at which time you shall receive the rest from her own mouth.  
Now am I fully convinced as to the artifices of Geneura, says Anselm, they must needs be very strong, sith they have been able to overcome you. However, I am sorry she hath employed a person so wise, in so indiscreet a business. I shall not repent my pains, if I can satisfy your prejudice. But what! will you say that Geneura cannot accuse you of infidelity, says Montenor, and challenge what you have engaged elsewhere, to have been sometimes hers? Knew I not that what she bewails was sometimes hers, and that she hath a right to require it, I should not have been so uncivil as to come to speak to you of a thing which would return as much to her dishonour as mine own. I must needs acknowledge, that if I should say I never loved Geneura, says Anselm, the very stones of her house would convince me of falsehood, and that it were not necessary they should speak for to repeat the things they have heard me say, seeing in many places they bear yet the characters I traced on them when I was in my amorous fondnesses; the Letters and Sonnets which Geneura hath in her Cabinet, were also sufficient evidences against me. But, Sir, what would you infer thence? That because I have been a long time exposed to the furges of a tempestuous sea, must I therefore return thither again, and that I remain there till the consequence must be a wrack? Tell me no more of the love of these Wenches, that are so fickle, that among them all there is not one constant, unless it be in the desire of change every hour. A man ought not to engage himself so far in loving them, as not to preserve the better part of his Liberty for an antidote against the affliction which their lightness may bring upon him. It seems by what you say, says Montenor, that you yourself are quite metamorphosed, and that you are no more one of the Subjects of the Goddess of Cyprus, as you have been; for Love and Liberty are the two most incompatible things in the world. Love must be absolute Master wherever he is: Reason gives him the place; the Will obeys; and the Inclinations change for him, and the service done him is not thought half what is due to him. But though this God have such power, yet must we not endeavour to avoid him: 'Tis well known, that if Love be a poison, 'tis a pleasant one; if it be a disquiet, 'tis desirable; if it be a death, 'tis peaceable; if it be a prison, there wants nothing but liberty, and misery reigns not there as in other prisons. A person that at your age should love nothing, is like a dead Sea, wherein if a ship cannot be cast away, no more can it attain the haven; and if you can lose nothing by not loving, neither can you arrive at any considerable good fortune. When I see a Mind so noble as yours not inflamed with Love, methinks I find a Torch of most excellent wax, but without fire to light it, for want whereof we are still in the dark.  
All this were good enough, replies Anselm, had I not experience that Love is an evil painted with the colours of good. The torments are much more assured than the pleasures, to him that will submit to his conduct; and though some take great pleasure in tasting its fruits, yet is it a sort of meat whereof a man cannot eat much and think it's good. There is a sentence as true as old, that says there are but two happy days in marriage, the Wedding-day, and that of the Wife's death. But it is withal to be granted, that since this sentence was first pronounced things are rather grown worse then better; nay, for my part, I should not grant the Wedding-day to be wished. To be short, A Woman is a domestic danger, and under a humane beauty there often lurks a savage beast; so that some wise men have doubted whether they should rank them among men or beasts. But thou omittest (cried out Lysis engaging himself in the contest) that some other Philosophers, wiser than thy Authors, have thought they should be disposed between Men and Angels, as participating of both natures. Ha! who would have thought thou hadst professed enmity to what is most amiable in the world. Ah, my Entertainer! how hypocritically hast thou ●eceiv'd me! how unfit art thou to meddle with the profession of a Shepherd, as thou hadst resolved with me! Where hast thou ever heard that Shepherds should blaspheme against Love and Women? Ah Savage! Woman-hater! Insensible thing! Wouldst thou have Mankind decay, and that there should not be any body here below to sacrifice to the immortal Gods? or if thou desirest Children should be brought forth, wouldst thou have no other way but by casting of stones backward as Deucalion and Pyrrha did, without any further copulation? If thou art of that humour, I disown thee: Come give me my bag and baggage, I will not stay any longer with a person accursed of men and the Gods.  
Lysis was delivered of this discourse with much choler; and Anselm considering he had some reason to blame him for what he had said, resumed the discourse thus. Be not angry, my dear Friend! know that I do not blame all women: 'tis only with this Geneura, of whom we speak, that I was afraid a marriage would have proved my repentance. But that is contrary to what I said, replies Montenor: you are obliged to love Geneura, and to avoid all others. Answer that objection, friend, says Lysis to Anselm: This Gentleman seems to be in the right. You will never be thought worthy to enter into the Temple of Astraea, if you have not continued faithful to your Mistress. I have harkened a good while to your dispute, but I shall be able to make nothing of it, if you give me not each his story, and allege your reasons. Observe me; Will not you submit to the Pastoral Laws, and take a Shepherd for to be Judge in your difference, and not spend your money on the Pettifogers of the Country? So Sylvander judged the difference between Leonice and Tyrcis; and Leonidas that of Celidaea, Thamyra, and Calydon, and that of Adrastus and Doris; and Diana decided that of Phillis and Sylvander. 'Twas always the custom to take him for Judge whom the Oracle had chosen, or the first they met that would undertake it, that there might be no long quarrels between Shepherds, whose profession it is to live in all tranquillity. Will you not therefore do well to take me to decide your business? Am not I a competent Judge in this case? I refuse you not (says Anselm, laughing at this rare invention) and it shall be the Gentleman's fault, if you discharge not that office. For my part, answers Montenor, I believe she whom I speak for hath so good a cause, that I fear not to appeal to any whatsoever. 'Tis very well, replies Lysis: but the worst on't is, that we are not in the midst of the fields; and methinks we should be there, for all the differences in Astraea have been so judged: shall we go thither? It may possibly be that the sentence will not be valid, if the Judge that gives it sit not on a stone in the shade of an Elm. Nay, if it please your Honour, let us not go hence, says Anselm: Seat yourself in that Chair before the Table: you see that on the Chimney-piece which is behind you there is a Representation of the Country; you shall be in the shade of those Trees that a●e there, doth not that suffice? I think Anselm is in the right, replied Lysis; and it must be granted that our Judgment-seat is wherever we are, seeing we have none certain.  
In saying so he sat him in the place they had assigned him; and putting his hands on the elbows of the Chair, be took on him the gravity of a Magistrate. Anselm remonstrated to Montenor, that seeing he was of Council for the Plaintiff, he should speak before the Judge first, for to make his complaint. He, who knew not yet whether Lysis was a Fool, or played the Knave, began to provide himself to speak; besides that he thought himself obliged to persuade Anselm not to discontinue his love to Geneura. So standing on one side of the Table, while his adversary was on the other side in the same posture, he thus began his Harangue.  

MONTENOR'S Speech in the behalf of GENEURA.  
IF I were to speak before Barbarians, I should be somewhat in doubt I might not obtain justice: But seeing he whom I complain against hath always made appear he carried no savage heart, I am almost assured that he will condemn himself when I have laid down my reasons. 'Tis with you that I have this contestation, Anselm! I am come hither to summon you to the performance of the promises you have made to Geneura to love her ever. Time was, that the same torch lighted both your hearts, and your days were spun by the same spindle, and that one only soul inspired your wishes and your thoughts. To prove this, I shall need no other witness then yourself, against yourself, and we are already agreed as to that point. But I would gladly know, seeing you have sometime thought her worthy your affection, why is she not so still? Is her beauty decayed? All the world knows that it advances daily; and that if at the time you became passionate of her, it challenged esteem, it now claims admiration. If Geneura speak she char●s our ears with the sweetness of her voice; if she be silent, her gravity engages our admiration; if she laugh, she hath I know not what attraction, would captivate the most barbarous minds; if she walk she hath a majesty fires the beholders. To be in her company, is to converse with Diana, Venus, the Graces, and so many other Goddesses which Antiquity hath adored; if she depart out of the Company, she carries away with her the hearts and eyes of the presence. All that know her will confirm this: but supposing there were no such thing, and that she have not those attractions she formerly had, should you discontinue your love, seeing your oaths oblige you thereto? If she had been wanting as to her part, there were pretence for you to disengage: but there is nothing to be said against her. She now calls you again, and that with the same affection she ever bore you, and the first moment of your appearance to her will seal you a pardon of all your faults. Let it be considered, if ever there was such a Goddess seen, and if such a Mstiress deserved not to be eternally loved.   
Montenor said no more, so that he finished his Speech where Lysis thought he was beginning. Nor indeed understood he any thing in that way of pleading, which they would have him observe, having not conversed much with Pastoral Books, which at that time he not so much as thought on. Yet the Judge with a slender smile said, That indeed it was well harangued, though succinctly; the most tedious Advocates are not the best pleaders. And you Anselm, what say you against him? Begin; and I swear by the Sword and Balance of the Goddess Themis (a thing I should have done before I had heard either of you) that I will do you justice, so as I would desire to receive in the like case myself; and I shall give you the same measure, as I should wish myself. Anselm having told him that he was not any thing doubtful, began to hum, and spit a good while, to dispose himself for his plea, which he inteuded somewhat long, both for the pleasure he should receive from his Judge, and to make appear effectually to Montenor, that he was not to blame for discontinning his love to Geneura. And this was the purpose he spoke to.  

ANSELME's Speech, wherein is contained the History of GENEURA.  
I Shall not need the courtesy of a long Preface, to captivate your Honour's favour, nor will I throw dust in your eyes, as the Proverb says, lest you should see the truth, for it concerns me that you should know it, and it is she shall speak for me. To answer then my Adversaries Council; who aches first, Whether I believed the Beauty of Geneura decayed: I say, it is a needless question. Alas! To whom doth he make it? I have never found her but too beautiful, and I deny not but that she hath yet as many beauties in her face, as she had ever: but that (she hath) the same now in her disposition and mind, is more than I avow. As for the faithfulness which she hath observed towards me, I shall bring those proofs will witness the contrary: And to clear up all this to my Judge, and to yourself Montenor, whose charge it is to speak against me, I shall give you a short History of my Loves, which you have not received so naturally from Geneura: for if you had but known any thing, you would not have pleaded for a Wench, who hath so little right to what she demands of me.  
After the decease of my Father and Mother, taking the Liberty of all sort of Conversation, I became acquainted, among others, with Lerantus, a Bachelor, one not of the meanest quality, and an ingenio W●man. He carried me one day to Geneura's Fathers, with whom he had some business, and he did as good as bring a Victim to the Altar to be sacrificed. I had no sooner seen her, but my desires were so inflamed for her, that I had no rest till I had returned to offer her the prey she had already gotten. The Father and Mother being a subtle sort of people, discovered presently on what design I came to their house, and gave me those entertainments that lured me to further visits. They perceived that a while before, I had gotten a Treasurer-ship; besides, they knew my Father had left me somewhat, and as for their part they had not much, the husband being of the most inconsiderable Officers belonging to the King; so that it had been to their no small advantage; if I had married the Daughter. I think they had not forgotten to recommend to her, to receive me favourably, and to carry herself before me discreetly and modestly. And indeed she was not wanting; and I vow to you, that as she was yet very young, and of much simplicity, I took an infinite pleasure to hear her talk innocently of Love. I shall not tell you how many afternoons and evenings I have pastimed away with her, nor how many Serenades I have given her, nor what Letters and Verses I sent. It's enough for me to tell you, that I lived not but for her, and that she lived not but for me, and that preferring content before riches, I disposed myself to marry her as soon as I should obtain the consent of my friends. Yet from that very time I observed some Artifices in the Mother, and in Her; but passion blinding me, I thought all supportable. When I was in the house, and that there came some to visit them, if he were a person of quality, as there frequented divers, they gave word they were not within, and had much ado to recover the courtesy they did me. But what dreamed I on at that time, that I should give them any credit, seeing Persida, Geneura's Mother, being as subtle as woman could be, served me in the like kind, and caused me to be sent back again, when I came to see them, while they had others to entertain: And this maxim she ever kept, that it might not be known they were familiar with all the world, and that they might be thought very reserved. Now it happened often, that I was told they were not at home, and I doubted the principal reason to be, that Geneura was not dressed to her advantage: for when she had notice of the day I should visit her, I observed she would make long mornings to dress her head only. All this wind shook no corn: And though I could remember some passages then, I shall conceal them, as being not capable to make her be despised. But one time, having been about a year absent about my Charge, when I was returned, I found her first innocency changed into the greatest subtlety in the world; and that she might deservedly be called the Queen of Tattling Gossips. Her mother had carried her to great Ladies, who were pleased to esteem her for her beauty, so that she would govern as they, who were more than she could ever be; and ever and anon she discovered an insupportable vanity. She never heard a Coach go by, but she bid her maid look out at the window to see if it were not some great Lord of her acquaintance: See if it be not Lysander or Poliarchus, says she to the Wench, though 'twere but some Country Lass, that knew neither of them. How's that? said I to her once on that occasion, do you know when Lysander passes by, by the going of his horses, or by the noise of his Coach-wheels? That is not it, says she, but I well know he fails not to pass by every day at a certain hour just by the house; and note here, that in saying so, she bit her lips, as if she gave me a bone to pick, and to make me believe, that that Lord passed by that way for to see her. Another imagination she had was, that all that once saw her died for love; and she took such a pleasure to be looked on, that one evening being in a street wherein there is always much people, I saw her pass by in a Coach, at the boot whereof she sat with a lighted Taper in her hand. There was no Masque or Collation, where she appeared not with the first; nay, she would not stick to come to Revels, and danced with throngs of men, an action which was thought somewhat dishonourable by the discreetest persons. I found her one time in a great company, wherein we were six who loved her, and strove to obtain some favour from her, when in the mean time she was so subtle, that she obliged all together: For she sat on ones knee, trod on the foot of another; she had one Gentleman by the hand, and spoke to another that stood by him. That hindered not but that she heard another Lover, who had a very good voice, singing, and cast amorous looks on his neighbour. So every one thought himself in greater favour than his Rivals, but she knew not herself what would please her. Whereas before she went to Mass ever and anon in the morning, she went not now till almost noon, because that is the time the Nobility goes; and when she was in the Church, though she saw a Mass ready to begin, yet would she walk up and down as if she sought for one: and if she saw a knot of Courtiers discoursing together, she would pass through them, that they might all behold her. Nor indeed did the design miscarry, for there was not any one that addressed not his eyes to her, but it was only to laugh at her folly. One gave her a jog as she passed by, so did the other: and I have heard, that a witty Gentleman observing her, ferreting all about so, said, to her, Lady, you need seek no further, I have what you look for; yet they say, this sharp abuse raised not the least blush, so much confidence was she guilty of, or to say better, impudence. That which besides further presented the world with occasion to laugh, was her gate, for she gave her whole body a certain shaking, as if it had been a Puppet, and she negligently bend her head on every side, with such measure and proportion, that it seemed she had learned that method by Tablature. As for her clothes, there was so much matter for Reformation, that she deserved an EDICT for her alone; and though when she went abroad she was so gallant, that there was much to be reproved, yet was she not content, but when she stayed at home she had better clothes than she durst show abroad. Her Language was also very extraordinary, that there might not be any thing in her that swelled not of Artifice. When she spoke, she used a wanton lisping, and of an imperfection of Speech she would make a grace. As for her discourse, it was only of some little Court-toyishness; and she never looked on any person twice, but she presently gave him some name of alliance, and that receiprocally she took not another from him, not once thinking that the most commonly she addressed herself to infamous persons. I well observed all these things, yet I was so bewitched, that I excused them, rather than condemned them: And I answered those who spoke to me of the affectations of Geneura, That it was impossible to find a Beauty so accomplished by nature, but there may be necessary some recourse to Art. Nay, I could not rid myself of the desire of marrying her, and attributing all her indiscreet actions to the ill conduct of youth. I hoped one day to furnish her with better discipline than her Mother. But what a mad man was I to think, that a woman will exchange Liberty for Slavery? He that would keep her in, must give her her way; and he that would have her desire any thing, must pretend to stand infear of her. Geneura would have done so too, and I am beholding to her disdains and remissions, which, when I was the most enchanted, prevailed with me to seek my remedy rather in her contempt, then in her enjoyment. The proud Titifil forgot all respect to me, that she observed before, promising herself a better fortune: so that to the end she might the more easily be found, she freely entertained all that came. While St. Germains Fair lasted, she miss not a day to be there: she sat on the Counter of some Shop, that she might the better be perceived, as if she had been some Commodity to be sold. 'T had been no great matter, had she only obliged those that passed by of her acquaintance to treat her with sweetmeats, but she further importuned them for some little Diamond, or some piece or other out of the Goldsmiths: So that if she would do so every year, 'twould prove a great revenue to her. About that time she had purchased a great reputation for her Beauty; and I think that when there came any strangers to Paris, they went to see her in the Church, and other places, as if she had been some Rarity of the City. Those that had any Suits of consequence at Law, endeavoured her acquaintance, for to desire her to speak for them to their Counselors, for they thought her beauty able to corrupt the Judges of most integrity. But this might have been excused, were it not that she did it for advantage, and that it gained her the frequentation of a many, who would not have courted her but for to deceive her. I was extremely troubled to see it, though for my part, I had all the reason in the world to hate her, and I thence easily inferred her ruin. For I know well, there could not be a worse Guardian of a Maid's chastity then Poverty, and that slender Revenues, Beauty and Chastity seldom lodge all at the same Inn. And what is more; Geneura encouraged the less confident sort of people, to ask her those things which are honestly refusable; and her clothes, words and actions seemed to prostitute her to all the world.  
Howbeit I took notice of all this, yet did I not discontinue my visits, but suffered a gradual decay of my affection; to imitate the sea, which ebbs so slowly out of the Rivers, that it is hardly perceived, but with this difference, that I intended no reflux. So I insensibly disengaged me out of her Love, to the end she might let go quietly what I took from her, without knowing how it was lost, as if it had been a shadow which had disappeared: So that if there remained any affection for her, 'twas only in consideration of that I had formerly born her, it being an incivility to make a stable of that place, which was before reverenced as a Temple. But it was to great purpose for me to wish her happiness: for she met with that misfortune, which a Lass of her quality ought the most to fear. She never went with her Mother, because the woman was still so foolish, that she would have the reputation of fair, and by a maxim of Gossipry, would not take her in her company, lest she should discover her age, seeing she had a daughter so big. Geneura being once at a Wedding where she had but one Maid with her, a young man who had taken her in divers times to dance, kept always somewhat near her, and proffered his service to wait on her home, seeing no body came to look after her. About ten of the clock, when they talked of bedding the Bride, a sort of unknown disguised Dancers came into the room, and putting out all the Torches, committed an unspeakble disorder. In the midst of the tumult, they say the Bride was ravished by one of her former servants: and as for Geneura, there was one Gismond carried her away, and disposed her into a Coach that waited in the street. In the mean while he that held her in talk before, made some stir in the Hall, which was observed by her Maid, who knew not where her Mistress was. As she was ask him for her, he told her she was with him, and bid her follow him. The Maid believing him, followed, and kept her eye on him still in the dark; and when they were come into the street, where it was not much more light than on the stairs of the house whence they came, she saw him conducting a Gentlewoman, which she took for her Mistress, so that she still followed on. She discovered not the cheat till the Gentlewoman spoke, and then the poor Wench almost amazed, returned to the house where the Wedding had been, for to look for Geneura, where when she had in vain ased for her of all those she met, she returned with the news of this loss to the Father and Mother; and I know not whether they were much displeased at it or no, or whether they had some assurance that their daughter was in some good place. Gismond having gotten the prey he desired, bid the Coachman drive as fast as he could, so that in a little while they were gotten a League off Paris, where they accidentally met a Gentleman, a former Suitor of Geneura's, who was coming out of the Country. He hearing his Mistress speak, draws his sword, stays the Coachman, and gives Gismond a thrust in the left arm. Gismond thereupon drew out a pistol he had, but it went not off, only the others horse, being startled, carried him away across the fields. In the mean while the Coachman put forward, and having gotten a good distance from the place, met with no further misadventure. He soon after recovered a house of his Masters, three leagues from Paris. Gismond's wound was there lanced, but that so carelessly, that a fever so violent ensued, that ten days after he died. Those that think it their business to speak the truth without dissimulation, affirm, his life was not shortened but through his impatience in his loves; and that without regarding his wound, he would enjoy the fruits of the spoil he had taken, wherein he so overheated himself, that he could live no longer. This being very likely to be true, do you suppose Montenor, that I would marry Geneura, though she be come back to her Fathers, and though she still pretends to honesty? I do not believe it the same case with Women as the Sun, which though it be common, loses not of its beauty; and if I ever marry, I will take one that is not only not blamed, but not suspected. I have now found out a Mistress, who is so far from all subtlety and affectation, that she hath nothing of it but the disdain give me leave to serve her, and tell me no more of this Geneura, who would be better known than I, were I the most renowned man in the world.   
Anselm having paused there, Montenor, who was not able to endure what he had said of his ancient Mistress, retorted thus. I do not so much wonder at what you have said Anselm; for it is a thing generally granted, that there is no disaffection so violent, as that which succeeds a friendship? but I apprehend not whence it comes that you are guilty of such a change: you tax Geneura with many little affectations, but it is well known, that since she hath been out of Gismond's hands, she hath only preserved those that render her more handsome, and more desirable. As for her Chastity, there is no doubt but she is as pure as ever. 'Tis generally known that Gismond, who was an old Bachelor, and very rich, carried her away by force out of the place where she was, by the assistance of his friends disguised When he had her at his own house, I believe he gave some assault to her chastity: But to make it appear to you how that he prevailed nothing at all, you shall be shown the Testament he made the day before he died, wherein he bequeathes all his Chattels to Geneura, repenting him of the injury he had done her, and desiring to make her satisfaction, and that precisely for what, says he, because that having endeavoured to corrupt her when she was at my house, she resisted my assaults, and discovered that chastity, that she well deserves an honourable acknowledgement.  
Seeing she was carried away by force, says Anselm, why did she not cry out for help among so many people; and when she was in an open coach, why did she not strive to get out? When she was at Gismond's house, what endeavours was she seen to have to send to her friends for to come and relieve her, or to myself who should have been more ready to assist her then any of them? You would also have me believe that she did not suffer herself to be vanquished by her sweet Enemy; and you quote me his Testament to prove it. But alas! how plain is this cheat? For what appearance is there that Gismond, an old Ruffian, who had designed his means to be the prey of dishonesty and lewdness, should make choice of this Wench to be his Heirress for having continued honest. Was she than the first wherein he had found that virtue, and was there no chastity among his S●sters and Cousins? What a miracle is this! There is only he that attempted her love, that thinks her chaste, and all others esteem her unchaste. It must be conceived it was she caused the poor man to say so, when he was at the point of death. To be short, I will not take other men's leave, and buy a Tree whereof the fairest fruits are already gathered.  
'Tis injustice to infer the worst rather than the best in things uncertain, replies Montenor: And if, as I perceive by your discourse, you suspect Geneura of unchastity, because she spoke freely, to all sorts of persons; consider that you yourself are the cause; and when you were far from her, her diversion must needs require other acquaintances. But return, to her putting away all suspicions and jealousy.  
Anselm seemed to have somewhat further to say in answer to this; and Montenor would not have been wanting to maintain his cause longer, if Lysis had not commanded them both to conclude, because that he would give sentence. Anselm disposed himself to hear it, and had caused his Adversary to be silent. But the Judge rising out of his seat, ran away as fast as he could, saying to them, Stay for me a little, I'll be back presently. And in that posture went he to his Chamber, where he took his Sheephook that he had left there; and being returned, seated himself in his Chair; which when he had done, says he, I had forgotten what was most necessary, which is this Pastoral staff, without which my sentence might have been invalid. Now I have it in my hand, I will give judgement upon this difference.  
Montenor knew not upon all these circumstances what to think of him; for while Lysis had been at his chamber, Anselm could not abstain laughing so loud, that he could not tell him what person this Shepherd was: But now he was to put on a more serious posture, because of the presence of the Judge; who having assumed a majestic Countenance, and a grave gesture, pronounced the Sentence in this manner.  

The Judgement of the Shepherd LYSIS.  
WHereas there is a Suit depending in this Court between the fair Geneura Plaintiff on the one part, and the courteous Anselm Defendant on the other part, the said Plaintiff hath Remonstrated, or her Council in her behalf, that since the Year of the great Snow, the said Anselm having taken fire at her fair eyes, to arm himself against the Winter, should have given her his heart in exchange, the which he hath since taken away, together with all the affections of his soul, into possession whereof she was entered, as having been mortgaged to her: wherefore she demands restitution thereof, with all costs, charges and interests. To which the Defendant pleads, that for the miscarriages of the Plaintiff, and her frequent disdains, he should have forsaken her, and principally because she suffered herself to be carried away by one Gismond, who, as was reported, had enjoyed her. Whereto Montenor of Council for Geneura, answered, That all the little subtleties of his Client, were but innocent insinuations; and that for the ravishing of her by Gismond, she had not consented thereto, and that she had resisted his attempts. All these things being eloquently debated, seriously and maturely considered, and the Testament of the deceased Gismond taken for seen, We by the full power granted Us by Cupid, King of men and Gods, have delivered, and do deliver, the heart, soul and affections of the Defendant out of the power of the Plaintiff, permitting him to provide for himself where he shall think good, and that without prejudice to the reputation of the said Geneura, whom we charge only to have always some one with her to witness her Chastity, when she shall have occasion to run away with men.  
Passed in the Parliament of Love, the first year of the second Golden Age, and the third day since we have taken the habit of Shepherd.   
Lysis had no sooner given his judgement, but Anselm making him a great reverence, gave him a long Gramercy; whereat the Shepherd being offended, answered him, 'Tis not me that you must thank, give your thanks to Justice: what ● do you think I have shown you any favour? These retorts quieted Anselm; so that changing his discourse, says he to Lysis, But if it please your honour, you have made your Sentence too large, dating it at the pronouncing, which is not used to be done: Besides, you have been overseen, in that you have not caused it to be written. How shall I take it out against my adversary? Who hath the minutes of it? You are indeed in the right, replies Lysis: you have a Lackey that writes well, why have you not made him come hither to be my Clerk? Yet stay, now I remember me, the Shepherds of Lignon, never had any Clerk to write down their judgements, and I will tell you the reason, They lived so innocently, that as their Contracts were not passed before Notaries, to oblige them to do what they promised, so no more do they keep any Records of the Sentences they gave, because who were condemned, were people of such good conscience, that they remembered as well as their Adversaries what passed against them, and performed it without violence. You must live like them, and be content to imprint in your memory the judgement I have given. Anselm confessed it was well spoken, and affirmed, that Lysis should ever carry the day of Sylvander, and the rest, seeing his judgement was better couched than theirs. Wherein they discovered they understood not the Laws and the practice as well as he who had been designed for the Long robe, and had studied the Pandects of Justinian.  
Afterward he went to Montenor, and told him, that what was ordered must be observed, without thought of appealing: And the Gentleman seeing by all his abuses, that his contempt of Geneura was as high as might be, knew well enough he had engaged his heart elsewhere. He asked him who was his new Mistress; he ingeniously told him it was Angelica, the daughter of a Patentee, dead not long before. Montenor who knew her, and withal knew she was very handsome, and very rich, would not divert his pursuance of her, and so said to him, Assure yourself, that though Geneura bewailed your loss, she hath repaired it, by the devotion of as faithful a Lover, whom she must resolve to marry, now that she can hope no more from you. I must with all haste return to Paris to dispose her thereto; for I am certain she counts the hours since I parted, and those my return might take up, such is her impatience to know what I have prevailed with you. To which Anselm answered, That he should be very glad Geneura met with a good fortune; and that what he had said against her, was partly the better to justify himself as to the Crime which he was charged with of having forsaken her. In consequence of this discourse, he took Montenor aside and told him, who the Judge in the short R●●e was, that had reconciled them. He also farther forced on him the pleasure to hear him discourse some longer time, for he would not permit him to go before dinner. Which being done, Montenor returned to Paris, where he gave an account of what had passed to Geneura, who thereupon resolved to take for husband him they should propose to her.  
Lysis spent that day within doors with Anselm, and that very impatiently; for he had a great desire to be carried to Angelica's, where CHARITE dwelled, but Anselm had no mind to't: and all the Shepherd could obtain of him, was only to pass by the door, which yet Anselm was willing to do so far as he thought it so much walk. As they were in the street: O God says Lysis, what a propitious hour is this to go and tickle the ear of a Mistress with the sound of a Lute, that cries Compassion for him that touches it! Can you play on the Lute Shepherd, says Anselm? No, answers Lysis, but for the Guitar, I touch it in such a manner, that there is no Magic so strong as the sound I give it, when I sing to it some air that is amorously sweet. Well, if you sing it suffices, replies Anselm, the voice is an instrument which may be carried every where. Come and sing before the window of your Sherherdess. That would do very well, says Lysis, if I had but an air upon that occasion, but I thought not on't this afternoon to make one: besides, I left at Paris my Dictionary of French Rhymes, and my Collection of Epithets, without which I cannot make Verses. And now I think on't, He that not long since hath advanced in France those loose Verses according to the Italian mode, hath been much in the right, for there is nothing so easy as to make of them; and when a man is in haste, they are soon dispatched. They are some long, and some short, some masculines, some feminines, sometimes with plain Rhymes, sometimes a cross, all as it comes into a man's mind, without being obliged to dispose them into Stanza's or Odes. I yet would not presume to practise them, till some others had lead me the way: for I have heard say, that at present there are at Paris a sort of people, who would be called the Ingenuities of the age, who would hiss at me, as if I presented them with some unseasonable Novelty. They would presently rank me among those who have endeavoured to make measured Verses according to the Latins. A man must a little fear them, for things are so far well or ill done, as they like or dislike them, and all depends on their approbation, and their censure.  
Anselm thought these considerations very rational, but he persuaded him that though he had not made Verses purposely to sing before Charite's window, yet must he not omit to go thither, considering, many Gallants gave Serenades every day with ordinary Songs, and that it mattered not, so that they were well sung. Lysis was so desirous to go and raise up his Mistress with the melody of his voice, that he easily believed all this: so having bethought himself a little, he said cheerfully to Anselm, I have found what I had need of; have not you heard of an Air that begins thus: 
Charite, whose brighter eyes,  
Our hearts do Tyrannize,  
And those that dare rebel chastise, etc.   
That's it I must sing, I believe it was made expressly for me, and that the Poet presaged that a Charite should dispose me under her Laws  
As he had said so, Anselm gave him notice, that they were before the house of Charite, and assured him, that his choice as to the Song was so excellent and sudden, that he believed it was some Divine inspiration, wherefore he advi'sd him not to think of taking any other. Then he showed him that part whence he might be heard by his Mistress: and Lysis having hemmed divers times to disgorge all the phlegm that might have blocked up the passage of his voice, began his air so melodiously, that his music was almost as pleasant as the noise of a Cartwheel. Anselm in the mean time bethought him to take off his Galloches, and put them between his fingers; and by making the sols clatter one against another, he played as if it had been with Clappers, that he might bear a part with Lysis. But the Shepherd not approving it, entreated him to let him sing alone the second and third Couplet, and afterwards he should do what he would. He had no sooner begun, but a Country-fellow whose ears were grated with this mad music, came to the window, and cast three or four stones at the Musician. See there! says Anselm to Lysis: your music is as powerful as that of Orpheus, it already draws the stones after it. That makes no amends, says the Shepherd; let us retire, 'tis not good to be here: These stones are not respectful as those that followed Orpheus; for they approached him not by twenty paces, lest they should have o'erwhelmed him, and were balanced in the air; but of these we may in the end feel the weight.  
When he had so said, they retired: For though Anselm could have quieted the Country-fellow, yet would he not, lest any should know he were there. Lysis in the return, discoursed much to him of the discourtesy and savage humour of the Inhabitants of the Town, who would not permit Lovers to give Serenades; and he spoke somewhat too concerning his voice, saying it seemed to him it was not very good then, and that if he had not caught a cold, he had sung a great deal better. As soon as they were come home, they went to bed, and slept both of them very well till the next day, which Lysis would spend in solitude in his chamber to write a Letter to Charite. In the mean time Anselm went to visit Leonora, Angelica's mother, at whose house dwelled the incomparable Mistress of our Shepherd. He acquainted her with the excellent adventures of his Guest, and of what pleasant folly he was possessed: which raised in her such a desire to see him, that he promised to bring him along with him as soon as he could conveniently. He forgot not to tell her, that he was passionately surprised with the beauty of her Waiting-gentlewoman; and that the discourses he made on his Love, excelled the most excellent Comedies in the world.  
Anselm being returned, asked the Shepherd if he had finished his Letter? He answered, He had but three words to add, and he would not sup till he had done, and had neatly enclosed it in gilt paper, and sealed it with Spanish wax, with red silk about it. While they were at Supper, Anselm told him that he had been where Charite dwelled, and made him believe that he had spoken to her of him, and that she thanked him for his assistance against the Satire. This he thought a high glory; and he asked his dear Host whether he would do him the favour to deliver his Letter to his Mistress? Anselm told him he would willingly do it; but withal, that he should be glad to know the contents of that Missive. I have forgotten it, says Lysis: If it were burnt or lost, and that I were to write another, I should not put one word of the same. Show me the foul Copy, seeing you will not unseal it, says Anselm. I have tore it in a thousand pieces, answers Lysis: And not to dissemble with you any longer, I tell you that if I had it, you should not see it, for it is not reason you should see the true draught of my affections, before her that hath caused them. Are you thereabout? replies Anselm: how prettily capricious you are! I shall pay you in the same coin; and I assure you, you may go seek one to carry your Letter, for that shall not I. Possibly, seeing you will not show it me, there is somewhat in't to my prejudice. I have read of divers who have carried their own deaths in a Letter, and received their punishment as soon as it was in his hands to whom it was directed. That's not the reason, as I am a Shepherd, replies Lysis: And I tell you that I care not much whether you carry my Letter, or no; nay I would not admit of Love himself to be the Messenger, were it not that he is blind, and cannot read my secrets. Know then that I could willingly give him this Packet, and that he would carry it safely, though he have neither pocket nor budget, for he would hide it in the locks of his hair; yet cannot I trust him; for put the case he should not know the way to Charite's chamber, he not seeing any thing at all, must have some other little Boy to be his guide, as your Bagpipers have; and he perhaps would mistake Angelica for Charite, and so some other than my Mistress should have the glory of my writings. You offend Cupid to think so, says Anselm: For though he have no eyes, yet he presently knows whom he hath any thing to do with; he hath a better nose than any Dog in France, he'll go scenting so long till he find out your Mistress; he hath as good an ear as a Cat that watches a Mouse, so that he'll presently know her by her speech; then he hath the feeling so good, that he will not mistake another for her But if all that were not so, should he have so little wit as not to know his ordinary lodging, having no nobler retreat than the eyes of Charite? If he should not seek her, would he not still go to her by custom? I grant your reasons, says Lysis: But lest this little God who is very quarrelsome, should be angry with me, I will not speak to him of carrying my Letter: He would answer me, that I was uncivil to take him for my Lackey. He is not like you, who proffer me that favour: For among us men, who can make returns of courtesies, 'tis the office of a friend, and not of a servant. All this considered, I have bethought me of an invention to spare both you and him; but let us talk no more on't, for 'tis not yet time to execute the design.  
So Anselm could not see the Shepherd's Letter: and two hours being spent in this contestation and other things, Lysis desired leave to go out, and desired him he would let one of his Lacquays go with him. Anselm granted it, though he seemed to be angry with him: And the Shepherd having taken the Lad aside, promised him a great reward, if he would assist him in his affairs. He showed himself ready to obey him in all things; and according as he had bidden, took the Hay-loft-ladder, and carried it after him. Anselm seeing them go out so accoutred, asked them if they were going to scale the Heavens, and take the Moon by assault? But Lysis bid him only retire and be silent, and that he should ere long have an account of his enterprise. Anselm letting him go his ways without any further discourse, expected a good while for his return: but seeing he stayed out long, and that it was very late, he went to bed.  
In the mean time Lysis being come before Charite's house, looked about to see if there were any light in the chamber where Anselm had told him she lay. There was, contrary to his desire, but it was presently put out; so that he then thought all were a-bed in the house, and that opportunity favoured his design. He caused the Ladder to be placed against the wall; and bidding Gringalet, Anselme's Lackey, hold it fast below, he went up from rowel to rowel, with the Letter in his hand, for to put it on the window of his Mistress: but being come to the upper end of the ladder, all he could do was to reach the lower brink of the window; so that he began to stand a tiptoe, and to stretch out his arm, that it had been as good for his joints to have been on the rack. While he thus lengthened himself, there was a Car within kept a pawing at the clappers of the window, which so alarmed him, that he made such haste back, that he very narrowly missed falling to the ground. Having been a little while in expectation of what might ensue, he bethought himself'twere better to give the Lackey the Letter to put on the window: whereupon he came down and spoke to him of it: but having measured which were the taller, he was two fingers shorter than himself; and besides he perceived his arms were very short, which rendered him the less fit for his enterprise. That caused him to get up again, not looking for any assistance but from himself; and taking heart, he went as high as he had been at first. Hearing the same noise as before, he thought there might be somebody that would surprise him; so that he descended three staves; then hearing nothing, he ascends again; the noise beginning again, he descends again. Sometimes he lengthened his arm with all his might, sometimes he drew it back: He would ofttimes lift himself up altogether, and presently again be shrunk down: And methought he was like those Capon's legs, whereof children do leagthen or contract the claws as they please, by pulling the sinews. O how many pounds might have been bestowed on the curiosity of seeing such pleasant postures! But alas, they had no other spectators than the Stars, and a miserable Lackey that knew not his own happiness.  
Lysis having retired and as often approached the window, did at last put the Letter upon it, and being presently come down, he bid Gringalet take away the Ladder, and return a long with him to Anselme's house. He said no more to him, he was so taken up, to entertain the divers imaginations which seized him, when he considered the Amazement his Mistress should be in, finding his Letter the next morning on her window. He said within himself, That she would believe it were some Bird had brought it thither in his Break; or rather Love himself, who flies as well as the Birds. In this Meditation he came to Anselme's house, but understanding he was a-bed, he would put his time to the best advantage. He bought of the Gardener seven or eight Posies half withered, wherein there were Pinks, Gillyflowers and Marigolds, and some other flowers, he fastened them altogether to a long piece of Packthread. Then out he went again, with the Lackey, whom he made take the Ladder with him, which was such a burden to him, that, if he had not feared to disobey his Master, who had charged him to do whatsoever Lysis said to him, he had bid him carry it himself. The Shepherd showing himself familiar with him, to gain his more willing assistance, asked him, If he had never seen the Sonnets of Ronsard: No; answered the Lackey, but I have seen Sonnettes or little Bells at the Knees of Morris-dancers, and at the Collars of little Dogs. That's not it, replies Lysis, I speak to thee of a Book of Verses: But I well perceive thou hast not read it, seeing thou speakest of it so ignorantly. Know then, that the Poet says in some places, that he adorned his Mistress' door with Nosegays and Garlands of flowers. I intent to imitate him; for he understood the Art of Loving as well as any Shepherd alive. And to what purpose, replies Gringalet? were it not better keep these Posies till to morrow? I would carry them to your Mistress in our silver Basin, with a clean Napkin o'er my shoulder, as the Attendants of Banquets do in these parts, and haply she would spit a couple of shillings into the Basin to make the Boys drink. Thou sayest very well, replies Lysis: but that I intent not my Mistress shall be at any charge; and then methinks thou art somewhat impudent, to think that I would go drink with thee out of the money she should give thee. Do not believe it, but rather that there is nothing comparable to what I intent to do, for to morrow morning if she have a mind to any Posies, there shall be no need to carry her any, she shall only need take them down at her door; besides that, to send her any, 'tis a thing too ordinary. We must restore the customs of the Ancient Poets, who fastened flowers at the Portals of their Lady's Palaces, to represent to them that their beauties were like Roses, which they considering continued not long should resolve to make their best advantage of them, while they had the opportunity. Moreover consider, that when it is Holiday at some Temple, the Gates are beautified with Garlands of Flowers, which ceremony is also practised over the Gates of Cities, where some Prince makes his Entrance. Now there is not any one on earth, so much to be honoured as Charite, and there is a perpetual Festival and Solemnity in the place where she dwells, seeing men go incessantly to adore her with all manner of Ceremonies and Sacrifices. If it be Holiday in her Parish, says the Lackey, why do not you chime in her Steeple? This discourse is insolent and insupportable, replies Lysis, but I am not to punish thee for't, for in what thou dost, there is as much ignorance as knavery. I wonder, that having so gallant a man to thy Master, thou art not more expert in the delightful Profession of Apollo. Why dost thou not learn what the Muses are? If I know not what Muses are, I know well enough what muzzling is and the music of a Bagpipe: Is that it you would speak of? Ah! Infamy! cried out Lysis: have the gods given thee a tongue for no other purpose then to blaspheme against them? be silent henceforward, for thy silence is better than thy best discourses.  
After that Lysis said nothing at all to Gringalet, lest he should oblige him to speak and the Lackey somewhat frighted with his reproofs, durst not open his mouth though he conceived he had not spoken any thing amiss. When they were come before the door of Charite's house, the Ladder was planted on one side thereof, and the Shepherd went to make fast one end of the packthread to a nail which he had observed there, but afterward he was in a peck of troubles, for he could not tell where to make fast the other. He had neither nail nor hammer; yet such was his opinion of his design, that he would execute it whatever came on't. At length he thought it his best course to fasten his packthread to the iron-bar of a little window which was on the other side: which, having carried back the ladder to that side, he presently did. Now though these Garlands were across the door, and that it might be conceived they were put there out of spite, yet could he not believe but they were very handsome, and were a great ornament to Charite's house.  
Having accomplished this rare work, he came before the door; and having one knee on the ground, he divers times kissed the clapper, calling it most happy, as having often the honour to be touched by the fair hands of his Mistress, when she knocked at the door. As for the Lock, he kissed it not, nay on the contrary he spoke injuriously to it, because it kept in a Treasure for which he sighed, and hindered him to enjoy it. But presently changing his conceit, he demands pardon for having offended it, and acknowledged himself obliged to it because it kept his Rivals from offering any violence to Charite. While he was thus employed, Leonora's Kitchenmaid, who was lodged just over the gate, had occasion to make water, and having no chamber-pot, made use of a broad-mouthed glass-viol that was in her window; and having filled it, she emptied it into the street, putting forth her arm, not looking if there were any body under, for she was half asleep. Lysis feeling himself besprinkled with that water, lifted up his head and perceived the hand and the viol as much as the time of the night would permit him. He thought it had been his Mistress, who having discovered him, cast some perfumed water on him as a signal favour: So that to give her thanks, says he, My fairest! what sweet presage is this! Do you not cast water on me, to signify unto me that you desire to quench my flames? But why, my Sun! do you debase your quality, and will become Aurora, seeing you honour me with this dew? This he spoke very low, lest some of the neighbours might overhear him; so that the Maid herself did not hear it; and because she had not quite emptied her bladder, she pissed a few drops more into the viol, and cast it just on his nose while he was looking up, which made him shake his head a little as a Spaniel newly come out of the water; yet forgot he not to say, Ah Charite! Now I see thy favours never go alone. But the Maid not thinking on him, shut her window and went to bed again. So that being disaopointed the happiness of entertaining his Mistress, as he conceived, he knew not what was become of her: And however Gringalet advised him to be gone, he told him he would not, and that he had some extraordinary disquiets whereof he desired first to be delivered; that is to say, whether the window whence the water had been cast, and that whereon he had left his Letter, belonged to the same chamber; and if that Paper were so laid, that his Mistress must perceive it? Gringalet told him, he doubted not but 'twas: But Lysis remonstrated to him, that he was not so fully satisfied; and that he would go up to the window which was above the gate, to try if he could see Charite in her Chamber, and speak to her; and that to show himself a true Lover, his importunity must come to that point. The Lackey, who knew not who Charite was, and knew her not by any other name than Catherine, diverted him not from his design, and so placed the ladder where he bid him. Lysis ascends, and finding that window a great deal lower than the other, was very joyful, and resolved in the first place to kiss the ground thereof, because his Mistress had sometimes rested her elbow thereon. But in the mean time, Gringalet hearing people coming afar off, forsakes the ladder which he held below, and ran away, fearing to be taken in an action which could not seem otherwise then wicked. As for Lysis, his amorous transportation kept him from thinking of any such thing; and bowing himself down to kiss the stones which Charite had touched, he put his head into a platter of blood which the Chirurgeon had placed there, after he had that morning bled the Kitchenmaid. He hathed his nose in it, and overthrew it all on himself; which put him into such a fright, that in violently removing himself, he caused the ladder, which was not held by any thing, to slip away, and so came to the ground with it. He recovered himself on his feet the best he could: But as he was calling Gringalet with a low voice, behold four men, who passing by had heard the noise of his fall, asked him what the matter was; and perceiving the Ladder, take him for a Robber scaling of houses, seeing he refused to make them any answer. As for the Platter, which was also fallen down, they saw it not, nor yet the Posies he had fastened; for their greatest care was to make sure of him and carry him where they lodged, which was not far, that so they might secure his person and know who he was Lysis suffered himself to be led away peaceably, seeing his resistance would have been to no purpose: Only what he believed as to all the business, was, that they were Pirates that would carry him away, as happened to divers Lovers mentioned in Histories. Do not you believe you carry away Lysis, says he at every turn: You have but the one half of him; To have him all, you must have had Charite too: And if you have but him alone, you can make no advantage of him. Those that led him were some Paris-Merchants coming from the Tavern, who understood nothing of all this: They only answered him, that he should give them a good account of his planting of ladders against the walls of houses. But as for his part, he no more regarded what they said: And so falling into his extravagarces, he imagined still that they carried him away for his beauty, and that they would present him to some barbarous Princess that was in love with him. As he would have spoken to them to that point, they came to the house or the chiefest of the company, who had brought the rest with him from Paris to be merry. They had no sooner knocked, but the Maid opens to them, having a candle, by the light whereof they perceived that he whom they led had his face and clothes all bloody: which made all cry out together, Ah mischievous man! ah murderer! 'Tis not enough for him to take away people's goods, but he must take away their lives. But where's his sword? Hath he thrown it in at some cellarwindow, or hath he 〈◊〉 it in the wound of him whom he hath killed? Tell us, was't in the street that thou hast committed this murder, or in some house whence thou camest out?  
Lysis set on thus with all their demands, began to apprehend what they would say to him; and viewing himself all about, was amazed to see his clothes in that pickle. If you see any blood on me, says he, it is none but my own, and it must needs be that I have hurt myself in the place where you found me. Alas! it is not I that commit murders; on the contrary, 'tis on my person they are committed every day, and Love himself hath taken away my life above a thousand times already. If you wonder you found me with a ladder, know I took it with me to do my devotions to a Beauty, which is so wonderful, that if there were such another in Heaven, there would be new Giants who should heap Ossa upon I elion, for to scale it.  
This so extravagant a discourse confirmed to those Citizens, that the fellow had a soft place in his head; and finding in him more simplicity than mischief, they thought to make sport with him, and so asked him▪ What he would give them to be set at Liberty? He told them he had no money, and that if he had, he would not give them any, seeing he was not their Prisoner of War, that he should be obliged to pay his ransom. While they were in this discourse, one of the company considering his extraordinary habit, remembered, he had heard say, that Anselm had at his house such a one, and thereupon acquainting the rest therewith, they concluded that their Prisoner belonged to that gallant man, who was their especial ●r●end; but it being too late to carry him thither, they disposed of him for that night. They assigned him a bed apart, where he imagined more than slept; but the others being burdened somewhat with their drink, were in a contrary posture.  
The next morning Lysis being gotten up, walked in his Chamber, and the Mistress of the house who had not seen him, because she was-a-bed when he was brought in, came to visit him, being charged to make him believe, they would not set him at Liberty. Fair Keeper of my Prison, says he to her, in saluting her. 'Tis of you, that I demanding Liberty, you are obliged to restore it me according to the rules of all good History; where do you see any Heroes in a Romance, that being a Prisoner, recovers not his Liberty, by the means of some Lady who visits him in his Captivity? Pamphilus of Lopa de Vega is delivered by Fleria; Clyantes in the Polyxena of Moliere, is delivered by Elismena; and Arsace, delivered by Theagenes in Heliodorus. Imitate these Ladies, that so you may not disturb this order, and if you cannot do it for love, do it for compassion. The Cockney was of such a dull spirit, that she understood not any thing of what he said, but thought he tempted her to dishonesty, so that she ran away all in a fury, and went and conjured her husband, not to keep a person so lost as to his wits, any longer in his house. He to satisfy her, went to see Anselm, and came just as he was going to beat Gringalet, for having forsaken the Shepherd. Anselm having had tidings of him, went to him, and brought him to his house very joyfully. Lysis being entered the house, reckoned up to him all his adventures. He would not have the spots taken out of his clothes, because not feeling himself hurt any where, he did not imagine 'twas his own blood. He remembered somewhat of the dish he had overturned, and believed it was Charite had been let blood in the arm, so that he conceived it not dishonourable for him to carry her marks about him. Yet Anselm having made appear to him, how the testimonies of his affection ought not to be so public, he put off his clothes, and bravely went to bed, while one of the Maids took them to wash, saying there was no shame in that, though 'twere day, seeing they might well affirm he was sick, because he was in Love, health seldom lodging with Love. Anselm having left him, a Lackey from Leonora enters the house, and acquaints him, that his Mistress desired him to come and see her presently. That Lady which pretended much to gravity, was not accustomed to betray so much familiarity; so that he wondered a little at this message, yet withal, was very glad on't, because of the affection he bore Angelica. He departed presently unknown of Lysis, and being come to Leonora's. She told him she had found a Letter on her window, which she would communicate to him, because she thought it came from the Shepherd which was at his house, and that there were found about her Gate, abundance of Nosegays, and a Ladder in the midst of the street, which it was likely this excellent Lover had made use of to bring about his design. Anselm told her she had guessed aright, and so gave her the whole History of the adventure of Lysis: wherein the Lover had omitted no circumstance, but that he had not hanged himself at his Mistress' door, as Iphis did at Anaxareta's, and that too, after he had disposed there a many Garlands of Flowers, according to the ancient custom. Leonora had already read the Shepherd's Letter, so she delivered it Anselm, who therein found these words;  
To the Most Worthy to be Loved, and the best Beloved SHEPHERDESS of the River SEINE.  
LOve having taken your Beauties for Arms, had long since laid a Siege to my Liberty, which was retreated within the Fort of my Reason, when without putting himself to the trouble of a Scalado, he is fled into my eyes, and by that way is entered my heart, as a Robber breaks into a house through the windows. The sufferings I am in through its means are very violent, but being at length appeased, he hath sworn to me that the remedy lay in your power, and that all I had to do was to write to you of it. But then seeing I was a Secretary very ill furnished with the necessaries of my profession, he took a Quill out of his own Wing, and hath made me a Pen with the point of his Dart; He hath given me Paper made of his old Head-bands, by a celestial Paper-maker: He took the Coals of my Heart which was half-burnt, and having beaten them to powder, he hath mingled them with my Tears, and thereof hath furnished me with Ink, with which I have written; and for to dry the Writing, he hath cast Ashes which he took out of the same place where he had the Coals, which are already half consumed. When my Letter was written, he cut off a little piece of the string of his Bow for to bind it, and he gave me Wax out of his Torch for to seal it. Consider, fair Shepherdess! if having assisted me thus far so favourably, he may not with as little difficulty furnish me with all his Arrows for to wound you, and make you sick of the same disease as him who terms himself  
Your Slave, LYSIS.  
Anselm made sport enough with this Letter, which was according to the stile that most part of our ignorant Clarks use to write at this day: who when they are to write, excuse themselves that they have not written a long time, or that they have now presumed to write; and so bestow the whole Letter in telling they write one, and acquaint you almost with nothing else. But there was one very pleasant consideration, which was, that Lysis out of want of judgement had put down, that Love had cast dust on his writing to dry it, which yet could not be done till it was finished; and besides he said, that the same God had given him of the string of his Bow, and some wax out of his Torch, wherewith he had sealed it: but how is't possible he could write all this, if the Letter was already enclosed? That made Leonora laugh heartily, who was never weary to hear it read. Therefore she told Anselm, that she was desirous to enjoy the conversation of his gentle Shepherd, as he had already promised her. Anselm told her at his departure, that without fail he would bring him with him in the evening. And indeed accordingly, when his clothes were well washed, and rubbed and dry, so that there was no spot to be seen, he clothed himself; and having supped very cheerfully, went with his dear Entertainer to the house so much desired. They found no body in the Hall but Leonora, whom Lysis accosted with a Compliment taken out of one of the most celebrated Romances of the Age; and if she had answered him according to what was in the Book, he was ready to return what followed. But seeing Angelica and Charite enter the room, he was at a loss of talk, and began to shake, as if he had been in a fever. Yet taking Anselm aside, he had the boldness to say to him, Do you mark how those two Beauties entered in here? Angelica goes before, and Charite follows. A Clown would think it is because Angelica is the Mistress, and Charite the Maid: But let us banish that opinion; the reason is, that Angelica represents Aurora, to Charite who is the Sun, and she always denotes her coming. Anselm had answered him somewhat, to preserve the honour of Angelica, if Leonora had not called him to know what the Shepherd had said. Fearing she might be angry for the disparagement he did her Daughter, he made her believe that he said, that Time that substracted from all things, added every day some fresh grace to his Mistress. Leonora asked him in his ear, if 'twere not fit she should tell Lysis she took it not well that he came in the nighttime to scale her walls, and that it was a thing of ill example. But he persuaded her to the contrary, saying, 'twere not good treating so rigorously the first time a Mind so extravagant, if they intended to make sport with him. Whereupon there came in four Gentlewomen of the neighbourhood, and two young Gentlemen, who said they came to dance to Songs. Lysis presently fearing any other should take Charite, went to her and demanded her hand with a most humble reverence: But he was no sooner in the dance, but Angelica told him he must sing, and that a Shepherd (as he was) must needs know a many Songs. Know the number of the Stars, says Lysis, count the Shells in the Sea, the ripe Ears of the Harvest, the Apples of Normandy, the Cheeses of Holland, and the Grapes of Burgundy, and you have the number of my Songs. But I should have had here my Nomenclature, which my Cousin Adrian hath taken away from me: I shall now sing but some common Song. Just than a Gentlewoman of the company began to sing, being weary of doing nothing; and when she had done, they made Lysis believe it was his turn to sing a Song: whereupon he began to say, 
O Shepherdess! this is the time,  
See now the grass hath put on green.  And he still looked on Charite with a corner of his eye, to tell her 'twas she he spoke of. His manner of dancing was very pleasant: For besides that he paced it out of season, he quavered his body from one side to the other, as if his ribs had been disjointed. In the mean time the Company, who had been acquainted with his humour, confessed still they were much honoured to enjoy him: But because they would not importune him, there was none but the Gentlewomen sung afterwards. The time to retire being come, they gave over dancing: And because it was not very light on the stairs, there came a Lackey with a candle to light down the company, but the wind blew it out before he was half way down; so that Lysis seeing the Ladies at a loss by reason of the obscurity of the place, cried out in this extremity: Page! go thy ways to Charite, and touch her heart of stone with an iron, and there will issue out fire as out of a flint and steel. You are in the right on't, Lysis, replies Anselm: But to strike out the sparks of her heart, it must have been the iron of the darts of your eyes that should touch it; and the tinder of your Love, and the Match of your Desire must have been all ready for to light our candle. Is there all that ado, replies Lysis? I have another invention that's readier: Page, go thy ways immediately, and light thy candle at the eyes of Charite, there she hath always flames; but take heed the tallow be not quite melted. As he spoke those words, Charite comes with a candle which she had been to light in the Kitchin. Ha! praise be to Love (continued be) you see the power of the fire of the rarest Beauty in the Univers. And though every one began to laugh at his extravagant imagination, yet could he not be persuaded but that the candle had been lighted at the eyes of Charite: and when Anselm at his own house would seem to contradict him, he alleged for a very pertinent reason, that it was read in the Poets, that Cupid always lighted his Torch at the Eyes of his Mother and other Fair ones, and that it was not the first time that the Beauties had flames. Not to flatter you, says Anselm to him, I assure you that I never observed any fire in the face of Charite; but once that she had a certain scab on her cheek, which they call wildfire. And to convince you of your error, do you not consider, that when the candle was blown out, we should not have been without light, if that beauty had any in her eyes, seeing she was in the place where we were in darkness: You are no good Philosopher, replies Lysis, you are to know, that the fire which is in the eyes of Charite, is like the Elementary fire, which we cannot see, though we are well assured that it is between the Air and the Orb of the Moon. Now if this rare fire of my Mistress be invisible as to us, 'tis because it is so pure and subtle, that our eyes cannot perceive it; and if her flame be fully seen when she lights a candle, or sets a piece of wood on fire, 'tis the mixture of the material vapours that gives it a colour.  
But howsoever, Lysis strove to show himself an able Naturalist, yet the next day Anselm renewed the contestation upon the same subject, to make himself some sport, but the Shepherd had the discretion to be silent, lest the other being incensed against him, should carry him no more to the place, where his heart was in Prison. A while after Dinner, walking together on the backside of Leonora's Garden, they found the back door open. Anselm went in, and being advanced a good way into the Garden, he came back and told Lysis, he had seen Charite asleep on one of the beds. The business was, that her Mistress being gone abroad upon some visit, she had taken the opportunity to walk, and having repossed herself in that place, was insensibly fallen asleep. Lysis willing to take the advantage of this occasion, made signs to Anselm that he should stay at the door, while in the mean time he would go see her, but he still followed him to see what were done. The Shepherd was so afraid to make the least noise, that he went as gently as if he had trod on thorns, and when he was come to the bed which Anselm had showed to him, he perceived Charite laid down on a mossy bank, tapistred with grass. Her face was towards the sky, and her mouth open, so that the Sun shining on it, as he did, the time of the day might be known, by looking on her teeth, which were large, and proportionally dispossed, upon which reached the shadow of her nose, which was so slender, that it seemed to have been placed there as the needle of a Quadrant. The Shepherd ravished with admiration to see her, was jealous of every thing. He was angry that her body made any shadow, and he could have wished to have been there without it. In the Sun beams which passed through the trees, he observed the Motes turning swiftly about, he was angry at that, and strove to drive them away with his hat, believing they were a fight who should first go and kiss Charite. Considering also, that the leaves were not thick enough for to fan his Mistress from the heat of the Sun, he stood before her, to hinder him to see her any more. That which troubled him most, was that he still heard some little noise, which he was afraid might awake her, and that if she went away, he might not see her at his pleasure. How troublesome is this wind! says he, very softly: 'tis not content to blow in her nose, but it must also keep a stir among the leaves. Methinks I can hear hither the noise of the wheels of the Sun's Chariot, nay I think the trees make a noise in growing, and the fruits in ripening; but above all, I hate those flies that come humming about here, they would go and suck the roses out of Charite's cheeks, like those of Leucippus and Eudoxa, and in the mean time they'll sting her. If I can catch but one, she shall pay for the rest. I will sacrifice it to my Deity, and will offer it up before her. Having so said, he put himself into more different postures to catch flies, than ever did the Emperor Domitian. He lifted himself up, he shrunk down, he leapt in the air, he opened his right hand, than shut it again presently, without catching any thing but wind; and besides that, he made such faces, that no mask or revels can have as pleasant visards. When he saw he could not catch any, he contented himself to drive them away with his hat, to hinder them to come near her Yet there was one so presumptuous, that when he was a little turned aside, it pitched on the nose of the Beauty, where it continued some while with much gravity. 'Tis very well, says Lysis, Is there the place where you intent to sit Lady Precedent? dost thou profane that fair Throne? but that pleasure shall cost the dear. In saying so very softly, he put forth his hand gently, and thinking to catch the fly, struck Charite on the nose with all his might; who thereupon awoke in a start, and believing he had struck her on purpose, says to him, Beshrew you for a foul Gamester; I shall feel this blow a good while. Could you not have awoken me more gently? While she said so, Anselm, who had seen all, and was hid behind the trees, came to appease her, making it appear, that it was Lysis' intention to oblige her, by taking a fly which would have stung her in the nose. And Lysis said it was true, and the greatest misfortune was, that for all that he missed the catching of that mischievous Vermin, that he might have punished it for the hurt it had caused. After this, Anselm asked Charite, If there were no body at home? She answered him, That they were all gone abroad, but that Leonora and Angelica would be back very suddenly. Well, said he, le's go into the house, and stay for them. Charite as soon as she came in, fell to work about some Linen, to recover the time she had lost, and Lysis, seeing she wetted the thread between her lips, to make it the more easily go through the eye of the needle, went and took it out of her hands, and sucked it a good while, saying he would endeavour to moderate his flames by that charming moisture, which was well as good as the dew of Aurora: And when Charite snatched the thread from him again, wondering at his folly: What, my fairest, says he, shall I not kiss what hath touched your mouth, seeing all the last night I did nothing but kiss my own hand, because yesterday it touched yours when we danced, and the day before I did much more than that. There he stopped, for what he was about to say, was so particular, that he must have concealed it. He would have spoken of the door that he had kissed, and in consequence of that he must have said somewhat concerning his Letter, whereof he would not say any thing to Charite before Anselm. Yet he was not a little troubled, that she discovered not that she had seen it, and that she were truly conscious of his affection; but he imagined it was her modesty, which indeed was to be admired. He thereupon resumes his former discourse, and on a sudden, which suited well with his humour, he came and told her; that he would thenceforward kiss his hand no more, if Charite did not pardon him more solemnly than she had done for the blow he gave her, and so immediately he went and kneeled down before his Mistress, expecting what she would order: But she who was not accustomed to see men clothed as he was, took him for no other than some Jack-pudding in St. Germains Fair, and could not tell what to answer to his extraordinary discourses, so that he was fain to take her silence for consent: It happened a little after, that in sowing she pricked her finger with the needle, and Lysis seeing the blood, cried out thus, Such is the Nectar that flows out of the wounds which the Gods receive, such was the blood issued out of the hand of Venus, when Diomedes hurt her in the Trojan war, and it was in the same manner she bled, when going to gather Roses the prickles pricked her: and if the Roses which were then white, had not been Metamorphosed into red, and that it were yet to be done, it were the blood of Charite should do that miracle; but instead thereof, it shall produce some new flower, as well as that of Ajax and Narcissus. In so saying, he took some small shreds of cloth out of Charite's Panier, wherewith he wiped off the blood that run down her hand, and so put it into his pocket with some other rags of cloth: he believed himself as happy in having this, as when he had the stains they had taken out of his clothes: yet was he not satisfied, having found a bottom of red yarn, which his Mistress made use of in some Tapestry work, he took five or six needlefulls, and made a Bracelet of it. Charite who was not pleased at it, told him he was to blame so to spoil the yarn, so that he was fain to make this fine complaint to her. How now cruel one! do you deny this poor favour to one that suffers so much affliction for your Love? have not you observed, that they bestow collars on the dogs of great Princes, wherein their Arms are engraved, that where ever they go, it may be said they belong to such a one? And do you not know, that in a Forest there was a Stag found with a golden collar, wherein were engraved certain Letters, which made appear that fifty millions of years before, he had been Alexander's the Great? In like manner it is necessary I should have some Bracelet, whereby it might be judged as soon as I am seen, that I am, not your Stag, for than I should be devoured by Actaeon's dogs, but your slave and servant of Love. What do you question whether I belong to you? Know, you are my Goddess; and that you have the glory to be able to call yourself the Queen of my soul, the Princess of my heart, the Dowager of my Desires, the Duchess of my thoughts, the Marchioness of my inclinations, the Countess of my conceptions, the Baroness of my actions, and the Vidame of my words. I will not write you any more Letters, but all these Qualities and Titles shall be superscribed.  
While he was in these Compliments, Charite's finger bled still: which Anselm observing, told the Shepherd he was to blame to amuse himself so much in vain talk, and not look for some remedy for his Mistress' wound. He wished himself as knowing as Machaon or Esculapius for to launce it; and presently went out of the Hall into some sluttish place to look Cobwebs. He entreated Pallas to assist him, that he might soon find it; for he believed she had some power over that Insect which had sometime been a Tapistry-maker, and that she herself had thus metamorphosed. But Lemora and Angelica coming in, he gave over his search, as also because Charite had stopped the blood herself. Leonora having drawn in Anselm into a discourse of husbandry, came to tell him of some young grass in her garden which had born fruit, and was desirous he might see them. Lysis followed them out of civility, though he was very loath to leave Charite. When he was returned, he found her in the Court sitting on a stone: Leaving all other company, he went and kneeled on one knee before her, for to entertain her.  
In the mean time Gringalet was entered the Court, and was bethinking himself how to be revenged of him, for having been the cause that his Master would have beaten him; and that he had given him nothing of all he had promised him for his assistance in his amorous enterprises. 'Twas a Lad that spent all the money he could get in some mischievous knavery or other. He was never without false Spectacles, and Knives with prickles, for to cheat his Comrades: But at that time he had one of the best Burning-glasses that could be gotten. Though his Master saw him hold it, yet he said nothing. He suffered the Sunbeams to unite in the middle, and made the reflection pass on Lysis' H●t, which being of straw was presently set a fire; it was half burned before he felt it, so was he transported in love: But at length his hair beginning to sing, he rose up in a great fury, and clapping his hands on his head, he scratched it a good while before he would resolve to discover himself: At last flinging his hat down, and seeing it yet burning, he in a great astonishment said thus; O miracle! Charite would have turned my whole body into ashes, if I had not stood away: But why a miracle, seeing it is well known she can inflame all things? and therefore I should not have come so near her as I did, if I had not a desire to be burnt? Did I not tell thee as much, Anselm, when thou didst contest with me upon that point? Ah Infidel! 'Tis for thy sake that this miracle is shown; and if for punishment thou hast not been burnt thyself, 'tis because thou art not worthy to be consumed by such noble fires,  
Was there over such a pleasant sally as this heard on? Leonora, Angelica, and Anselm could not laugh at it, so much were they surprised with admiring it. And to seem to Lysis that they believed all he said, they took his hat and viewed all about with divers gestures, and said they were truly astonished at the power of Charite. How now, housewife! says Leonora to her, will you burn all those that love you? Go your ways I pray quickly into the Kitchen, and put your head in a pail of water to quench the fire of your eyes, which night haply burn my house. Hereupon Charite went her way, though she could not comprehend aught of what they said to her: but looking into her Panier, and missing some Linen, she comes and demands it of Lysis. You shall rather pluck out my eyes, then get the Favours which I have of your, says he to her; I'll keep them as long as I live. She could get no more of him for the present: But a good while after, when he thought to go his ways with Anselm, she cried out to Angelica, Madam, be pleased not to let him go! he hath stolen the stock of a band from me; let him not go till he hath restored it. Ah Shepherd! says Angelica to him, you are to blame to rob the Maids, in a house where you are so civilly entertained. Dear Nymph! replies Lysis; I am no Thief, but of hearts and affections: As for the Linen which Charite asks for, Love hath with good right given it me; if I should restore it, he would be angry with me, and would disown me again for one of his favourites. Charite, who thought this no satisfaction, pulled him by the breeches as hard as she could; and another Maid assisting her, he was forced into the Kitchen: where this other Maid, which was she that had besprinkled him with the Rose-water, told him, that he must not think to carry any thing away from their house. And when he had replied, he had nothing but those Favours which were due to him, she said that he should then reciprocally give others to Charite; and that it was never seen that a servant took any thing away from his Mistress, without leaving somewhat instead of it. It happened in this scuffle, that one of Lysis' shoes was untied: This maid, who was a sturdy quean, took it quite off his foot, and said, This favour shall be for Charite from her servant: Now in good time he may go his ways, we do not ask any thing of him. Whereupon she dismissed Lysis, who was very glad to have gotten off so cheap; and having taken his leave of the company, went along with Anselm in a very pleasant posture. Having but one Shoe, he went limping along for fear of spoiling his Stocking, sustaining himself with a staff that Gringalet had sent him. Besides that he had taken his half-burnt Hat, which rendered him so graceful, that he seemed to be some maimed Soldier newly escaped out of a Battle. And indeed he himself was saying, that as Warriors that have been at some skirmish do carefully preserve their Armour and Head-piece, if an unhappy blow hath made any impression on them, that so afterwards they may say they were the first in the Charge; so would he preserve his burnt Hat, in remembrance of the danger he had been in by his approach to Charite, and that peradventure he would hang it up for a Trophy in the Temple of Love. Anselm, with a serious look, told him he approved of the design: but it's to be thought he laughed under the mask of such an extravagancy; for he had well observed how his Lackey had burnt his hat with a burning-glass, and had purposely permitted it. As for Gringalet, who with his fellow-Lacquay came behind, he could not refrain laughing, and made more wry faces than a Puppet-players Ape.  
When they were come home, Anselm gave Lysis a grey Hat, and other Shoes. And the Shepherd ruminating on what had happened to him that afternoon, swore he never observed in any book, that any Lover had in so small a while met with so many rare adventures. He took out of his pocket the Linen rags which had Charite's blood; and having kissed them divers times, and his bracelet of Yarn also, he accounted all his pains well bestowed, and he was nothing troubled neither at the loss of his shoe, nor burning of his hat. As for the Bracelet, he made a vow to wear it on his wrist for ever; and as for the Linen, he locked it up with the other Jewels he had before received of his Mistress.  
All suppertime he talked of nothing but the heat of the beams which issued out of Charite's eyes, and all the night he dreamed of nothing else. So that towards break of day, the strong impressions he had of it made him dream that Love had placed him on a great block, where he burned from the sole of the foot to the crown of the head. Awaking as he was in that torment, he persisted in the opinion that he was in a fire; and starting out of his bed, he went out of the chamber without any thing about him but his shirt, and went down stairs crying as loud as he could, Help, help! I burn! Ah cruel Charite! why are not your flames more remiss? In that posture went he to a Spring which was in the middle of the Garden, and cast himself in, hoping to quench his fire. The basin was four foot deep, and there was water enough to drown him, if he had stayed there any time. But God, who ever relieves Innocents' and fools, ordered the Gardener to be already at his work. He hearing his outcries, and the noise of his throwing himself into the Spring, came to see what ailed him: He came to him as he was dabbling in the water like a Frog; and after he had suffered him to bathe and refresh himself as much as he would, he helped him out. Had it not been for that good fortune, we should not have been troubled to make his History any longer, and his life and adventures should here have been at a period.  
When he was out of the water, he came a little to himself, and imagined not he felt any more heat, yet could he not get into the house without shaking, and would not go to bed again, out of an opinion he had, that his bed produced flames. Anselm got up to see what reason he had to make such a noise, and having had the story from his own mouth, and from the Gardener, he made him change his shirt, and put on his clothes, that he might walk abroad with him to drive away the time. Anselm was never more at a loss then now, he believed he had undertaken a greater charge than he imagined, and though Lysis might be in the fault, yet would they require him better than he was, so that he knew not if it were his best course to send him back to his Cousin. While they walked, he thought fit to try if there were no means to restore his mind to a better composure. Pray tell me one thing, says he to him, Why do you so much dread the fire of Love? Why do not you get a good Pail of water by your bed side when you go to bed, that you may quench it if it lighten in good earnest? Alas! friend, replies Lysis, my fire is a wildfire; it's compossed of Sulphur vive, quicklime, naphte and camphire, it burns in the water, and if it hath been quenched in thy Spring, that hath only been by good hap. But do not you think that the Frigidites of the mind, replies Anselm, may do somewhat against it? why do you not fortify yourself with them? Alas! replies Lysis with a sigh, it is a long time ago since my heart hath had no ice, and that there is nothing but flames instead. Will not artificial waters quench an artificial fire, says Anselm, weep till yours be quite out. My tears flow from without, replies Lysis, but the burning coals are within, to what purpose were they? it should seem rather it were better not to shed them at all, that so remaining within they may assuage the internal ravages of my love. Yet not to lie, when I weep, I feel some refreshment, and I am glad that people put me in mind of it. That's very well, says Anselm, shed then abundance of tears. when you are before Charite, whose looks are so pernicious, that yesterday she was so near burning you, that you feel it yet. But now I think of it, whence comes it she hath so many flames seeing she hath also as many frosts, at least for all other Lovers, if not for you? The fire is in her eyes, and the frost in her heart, replies Lysis, it's a good distance between those two, so that they both preserve their power. You are in the right, replies Anselm, but hath she not snow on her neck and breast, nay, and on her face too? should not all this moderate the heat that is in the torches of her eyes? There is in that a Miracle, answers Lysis, and yet it is no novelty; for I have read of certain mountains in the world covered with snow, at the top whereof there issue out flames. I grant you that, says Anselm, yet you must ever allow me, that the snow which is about the flames of Charite, doth extremely abate the violence of the heat, so that she cannot burn you, but when you approach near her, as she did yesterday, and cannot cast her fire from her house hither? so that if you have felt any hear, 't hath been imaginary, and the subtle Morpheus hath deceived you. I almost believe it, says Lysis, for that cheating companion changes himself into fire and water when he pleases.  
Lysis continued in that belief, suffering himself to be persuaded by the Antitheses, and other subtleties of Poetry, that it were in his power to make that there be fire, or ye, or snow, and many other strange things in his Mistress, according as it pleased him to say so. His opinion was, that there was no more to do then imagine them, to give them reality. I do not know, whether the Poets are of so light a faith, but they have at least the same conceits, and they build their designs on the like foundations. They hunt out plenty of contradictions, to advance their Artifices, and they'll describe you a breast of Ivory which arrows cannot wound, in the same Mistress to whom they had before given one of snow, which receives any impressions. 'Twere a long work to sum up all their absurdities: it suffices as to our purpose, to let you know, that Lysis, who was one of their principal disciples, suffered himself to be treated as they pleased. Anselm was very joyful to find him so tractable, and ever after entertained him with much confidence, showing him how that he must not fear that Charite would burn him, seeing there are no Divinities so respectless of their honour, as to burn up their own Temples.  
'Twas this opinion restored him his soul, if I may so say; and his host being a while after to go to see Leonora all alone, was not afraid to leave him in the house. Nor indeed did he stay our long, and being returned, he came and told him there was a great news stirring; and that Leonora (who was a woman, and built a design in a moment) was returning to Paris, with her daughter Angelica) Thou canst give neither grace nor gravity to things says Lysis to him, seeing Angelica is thy Mistress, as I have easily observed, oughtest thou to mention her without a Paraphrase? say that Leonora who is the Queen of merit, returns into the Queen of Cities, with her Daughter, who is the Queen of thy foul. Say that this Angelica prepares her wings to fly away; that is to say, she packs up her baggage, and folds up her smocks to be gone. Why should I make men believe that she flies, replied Anselm, seeming she goes by Coach, and that Charite also bears her company? What! she goes too, the Beauty of Beauties! cried out Lysis▪ Alas! I think their Coach will not go very fast, for it will be heavily loaden, Charite carries away with her my heart, which is so big with troubles and disquiets, that the burden of it cannot be light. But what is this departure so sudden, that I shall not bid her adieu, and kiss her hand. Ah! blessed opportunity! this long time shall I not recover thee. I must lose myself, for having lost thee, in losing Charite, whose loss makes me lose all things. The Shepherd's Expostulation had been longer, if Anselm had not comforted him by a promise, that within three days they would go together to Paris to see their Mistresses, Lysis was somewhat satisfied with that, yet was it not a little trouble to him to consider that he was to go into a City which he was not at all taken with, and must forsake the Fields and the condition of Shepherd. But that nothing should burden his mind, his good friend assured him over and above, that they had eloquence enough to persuade Charite to go along with them into Forests, as they had already proposed. Lysis told him, that he ever cheered himself up with that hope: and that if he had not spoken of it, 'twas because there had not any occasion presented itself. However, he became very melancholic, and though Anselm would have carried him into some good company, yet he chose rather to stay at home, where he employed the whole day in reading the Translation of Ovid's Metamorphosis, which had been borrowed for him. In the same manner spent he the two next days, never speaking to his host but at meals: for Anselm went some way or other to divert himself, and that he did not carry him to his friends, 'twas because he found him not in so pleasant an humour in Charite's absence. Yet one evening Lysis had a design to be merry, and he bethought him of going to that place where he had some days before heard such a foolish Echo. He intended for diversions sake to Interrogate her: so he asked her three times very loud if she were there? and how she did, but she would not speak; for Anselm was not there to answer in her stead. The Shepherd wondering at that silence, returned home very pensive, and said to Anselm at Supper, that he thought that Nymph was dead. You are extremely deceived replies Anselm, she is naturally immortal. The Echo which answered you a while ago, is a member of that Musician Echo, which I mentioned to you: now it is Metamorphosed into a subtle voice, which can go from one place to another. You are to know, that since yesterday, conceiving that you would have been glad to have such another Oracle in the Country whither we go, I thought fit to take it for to transport thither, and you will never guests by what subtlety I could do it. I measured the place whence that voice could answer, and having overspread it with a large piece of Linen cloth, I retired about fifty paces, and having called on her, I let her answer a good while then I pulled a cord that I held, and all of a sudden let down the cloth, under which I took her, as a Partridge under the net. She is now enclossed in a Box, where she shall remain till we be in some Music-room, or some fair Garden fit to be her sojourning place. Thou tell'st me wonders, said Lysis; how couldst thou conceal this from me till now? I know not how I came to tell you it so soon, replies Anselm, for you are very curious, you would fain see my little Nymph, and in the mean time I fear me, if I should open her lodging, she'll fly away far from hence, now that she is not yet grown familiar with us. For which reason you must not see, no, not the Box: And let us talk no more of her, lest the desire to see her increase in us by little and little. I am content, says Lysis: But tell me, prithee, if thou seest her not, how dost thou give her meat? I beg thou wouldst let me know it, and that thou conceal not from me if she stand in much the keeping. She is no charge to me, replies Anselm: I only sing sometimes near her little lodging, or else I rap with a knife against a trencher, and she is nourished with that found which she easily hears. Thou art as ingenious as Daedalus, and as subtle as Ulysses, says Lysis: I remember that the Prince of Ithaca locked up the winds in a leather-bag, and carried them in that manner in his ship. They invention is well worth his; there was never yet found in any book such a thing as the transportation of Echoes.  
Lysis having so said, resolved to speak no more of it, fearing to lose the pleasure which he hoped for. The time of their departure being come, Anselm said to him, that seeing they were to return to the City, 'twas necessary he cast off his Country-habit, otherwise people would follow him as an Inbabitant of the New world. At first Lysis would by no means consent; but at length seeing that Anselm threatened him that he would never take notice of him, he took his former clothes which were brought from the Countryman's house, where he had lodged when he became a Shepherd. The Cloak was of Spanish cloth of a lightfoot grey, and the Linings of Taby pinked of the same colour, and the Doublet and Breeches were of the same stuff: Yet did he not conceive himself so brave in this clothing as in the other; and the regret he had to quit it had not been silenced, if Anselm had not remonstrated to him, that men cease not to be of a profession, though they sometimes leave off the signal habit thereof; that the Soldier is not always obliged to have his armour about him, and that Kings lose nothing of their Majesty when they have not on their Royal robes. So the Pastoral habit and all its equipage was disposed into the bottom of Anselm's Coach; and when they had well dined, they got in, and drove away for Paris.  
Anselme's house was somewhere about the Temple, and was one of the fairest in that quarter: yet Lysis found it tedious to be there, and ever and anon made it appear his desire to go and see Charite. Anselm willing to content him, said, that on the morrow he would go and see if there were any means to give her a visit: but assoon as he was returned thence, he comes to Lysis and says to him, You will be amazed at the news I bring you; 'tis ill, and yet withal 'tis good. Charite is not in Paris; but she is not departed hence, but to go into Forests. Ah! that's bravely spoken, cried out Lysis; for if I am troubled at her departure, I must on the other side be glad that she is gone into that place where I have so much wished her. But tell me, doth Leonora and Angelica go along with her, and how this is come about? They go, replies Anselm: So that to be near the object I adore, I must be for that journey myself. Leonora, you are to know, being weary of the world since the loss of her husband, intends to live in that Country, which is full of Shepherds, where she shall be entertained by Tircis, who still bewails the death of his Cleon. Oh how well is it considered of her! says Lysis; I am confident she hath read the life of the good King Basilius, and that she intends to imitate him. He forsook his Royalties, and came and lived with his daughters among the Shepherds of Arcadia, who cheered him up with their Ecclogues: so will she take a pleasure to hear our Country songs; for your part, you must become Poet and Musician as well as I.  
Lysis discovered his satisfaction by many more words to that purpose; and if he said [you] to Anselm, 'twas because he conceived he ought not to be familiar with all the world, and that especially in the City, where men lived not after the Shepherd's mode. Anselm promised, that within a few days they would go wait on their Mistresses. Leonora was not gone into Forests, as he said; 'twas a thing he had devised, to be in more quiet with Lysis: she was gone but to Brie to see a sister of hers called Florida, married to Orontes a Gentleman of that Country. He had a mind to go thither, and to take the Shepherd along with him, being resolved to take up lodgings in a little Town near Oronte's Castle, because he would not trouble him. Now he had power enough over the spirit of Lysis, to make him believe that Brie was Forests. In five or six days all the business he had at Paris was dispatched, so that he was at liberty to pursue his Loves, and make sport with his extravagant Shepherd. They went together to see Adrian, and to take leave of him. He was very glad to see his Cousin in his ordinary clothes again; and conceiving his brain better settled, he thrust into his hands some Pieces towards the expenses of his journey. The next day, as Anselm was upon his departure, there fell out a business of importance, so that he was forced to defer it for two or three days.  
The End of the Second Book.   

THE Anti-Romance; OR, THE HISTORY Of the SHEPHERD LYSIS.  
The Third Book.  
THese tedious expectations were such an affliction to Lysis, that he thought his life would not have done him the favour to let him once see the day of his departure. As he was taken up with this consideration, he lights on an Almanac in Anselme's study: Ha! Parson of Milmons (says he with a great transportation, speaking to the Author) dost thou think with this Astrology to be fit for the care and governing of a thousand worlds, when thou know'st not how this one is dispossed? What! thou puttest down that this month of August hath one and thirty days, and it is rather to be believed it hath one and thirty months! Alas how thou art deceived in thy Calculation! Prithee make a Calendar apart for those that are in Love, and that at least the hours may be days, the days months, the month's years, and the years' ages. Those days wherein a man shall suffer a thousand torments without any comfort, shall be marked with black as the working days; and those whereon a man may see his Mistress, and adore her, shall be marked with red like Holidays. O famous invention! says Anselm: but will you have no Vigils nor Fasting-days? Vigil, that is to say Watching, replies Lysis: That word must be every where, to show that the Lover should always Watch, for to be thinking of his Mistress; and for the Fast-days, they are all those that a man is absent from her, and that he is forced to be without such delicate food. As for the fair and foul weather, cold and heat, the eclipses of the Sun and Moon, and the fortunate and unfortunate days revealed by the Angel to honest St. Joseph, all that shall be judged according to the presence or absence, the favour or the disdain of that bright Star which hath an Ascendant over us. And for Fairs, will you order nothing? says Anselm: No, answers Lysis; for it seldom happens that an honourable Lady will fallen herself.  
After that the Shepherd had thus discoursed as to that point, he resolved to take his cloak and walk a little abroad into the City. At the first corner of a street he met, there was a man looking on a Paper stuck up by the Stage-players: he also would needs read it, and having seen that they promised to represent an Incomparable Pastoral, one of the newest pieces of their Author, and withal a Masquarade, he immediately returned to Anselm, to persuade him to go see the Play. As good fortune would have it, Anselm had no business that afternoon, he therefore was willing to see whether the Prince of Orange's Players did as well as their Majesties, so that he bid the Coachman make ready the Coach to go thither. Lysis seeing his resolution, went presently to his Chamber, and put on his Shepherd's habit, which done, he came and presented himself to his dear friend. You shall not go along with me in those clothes, says Anselm to him, all the world will laugh at us. And I'll laugh at all the world, replied Lysis. When a man is to go to some place of Ceremony, must he not observe the decorum as to clothes? For this time permit me to dress myself according to my fancy. The Shepherds are going to represent their Loves; I go to see them as a Judge, and yet you will not have me clad like them, I who am of their Profession: there is no respect shall prevail the least with me in this case. Do you think a Judge would look handsomely in his seat with a short cloak, while all the Councillors plead before him in their long Robes? Anselm knew not how to answer this; and seeing Lysis so wilfully resolved, he received him into the Coach clad like a Shepherd, only causing his Scrip to be taken away, and hindering him to take his Sheephook with him, which had been a thing over-ridiculous. As for cloak, Lysis would have none: and yet those that saw him in the street, discovered not his disease, but thought him some fantastic Gentleman, who loved to be lightly clad.  
When they came to Burgundy-house, Anselm meeting there with three or four Noblemen, his friends, placed himself with them in the King's Box, having the Shepherd always at his Elbow. The Players having begun their Pastoral, Lysis was extremely attentive; and seeing a very handsome Shepherdess come on the Stage, She is accomplish'dly handsome, says he, but Charite goes beyond her.  
As she was speaking all alone in a thicket, there came a Satire that would ravish her, but presently there happened a Shepherd to start out, that rescued her out of his hands, and began to fight with him. 'Twas no small business to Lysis only to look on; one while he turned to the one side, another while to the other, as he wished the Shepherd should do. And as men at Bowls, think the Bowl will go one side or other according to their several postures; so did he bend himself divers ways, and sometimes pulled at one of the pillars as much as he could, as if by that means he could make the Satire be overcome by the Shepherd. At last the Forrest-god was overcome, and was led away chained by certain Huntsmen who happened to pass by, so that Lysis was very joyful, and said that the Beast did well to deliver himself up, and that if he had resisted any longer, he would have gone and helped to beat him, because he believed it was the very same that would have done such an affront to Charite, as was done to that Shepherdess, and that he knew it again well enough. This Act being done, the father of the same Shepherdess came and said, that there was fallen into his hands a Love-Letter, that a servant of his daughters had writ to her, but that he would not have love him, and that he went to desire a friend of his to counterfeit the Characters of that Letter, and to write another, wherein there should be nothing but abuses, Thereupon he spoke to that mischievous Secretary, and the business effected, that Letter must come to the hands of the Shepherdess. When it was delivered to her, Lysis cried out, he would never suffer such a cheat, whereof he should become a complice, if he did not discover it. Will you take the Play for a truth? says Anselm to him: Do you not see it is but the Fable of a Fable? Lysis regarded not this, but went out of the Box to look for some place whence he might get upon the Stage. Anselm would have gone after him, to keep him in, that he might not betray his madness to all the world; but he was hindered himself by those that were with him, who desired to see what Lysis would do, whose extravagancy they had already observed. He was by that time gotten into the Tiring House, when the Shepherdess entered the Scene to make her complaints upon the pretended infidelity of her servant; so that he thought it concerning him to make haste to speak to her, and taking a Sheephook he lighted on by chance, he entered the Stage, without being perceived by the Actors. He stood still a good while in a handsome posture, hearing what the poor amorous Shepherdess said; for he knew not at which end to begin his speech. Perceiving she spoke all in Verse, he imagined she was not to be entertained in Prose, and that she understood not haply the Language: in fine, he thought himself able enough to make a Discourse in Rhyme, as indeed he spoke very good words, but shortening some and lenthening others, so to give them the form of Verses, and pronounced them with an harmonious Accent. 
Fair Shepherdess (saith he) believe not that your Lover loves you less,  
Banish that error which some will have you entertain: 'tis better,  
'Tis not your Servant writ that Letter.  
I tell you now, because you are so full of charms,  
I wish not Jealousy should cause your death or harms.  The Actress was so surprised to hear this discourse, and to see the Author of it, that she could not think on what she was to say next; for indeed she had not been long in the Quality. Being ashamed to stay there and say nothing, she went off the Stage, and Lysis followed her. The people seeing this, began to hiss at the Players; and every one thinking that Lysis was one of the company, they cry aloud, that what he did was nothing worth. Anselm and all those with him could not hold themselves, so heartily did they laugh at the admirable adventure, and being curious to know what Lysis was then doing, they went to him. They found the Players quarrelling with him, for having interrupted their Play; and haply they would have beaten him in the end, if they had not been appea●'d; for he had no other reason to tell them, but that out of charity he would have undeceived the Shepherdess, which made them believe that he was come thither to abuse them. But the respect they bore the persons that interceded for him, obliged them to silence: They proceeded in their Pastoral, and Lysis standing at one corner of the Stage, the rest returned into the Box. He was disposed into a place where he was not seen of the people; but towards the latter end, seeing a Shepherd brought before an Idol, where they feigned to sacrifice him, he started out of his lurking hole, and believing that all was real, went and said, 
Ah! Inhumar● Sacrificer stand,  
Throw that Sword out of thy hand:  
The Gods desire not the lives of men,  
He doth well that pours  
Before them incense, and offers Milk, Fruits and Flowers.   
With the finishing these words, he endeavoured to deliver the Victim out of the Priests hands, who thrust him back with two or three cuffs on the ear. A Lord which was with Anselm made signs to the Pages that were upon the Stage to protect the Shepherd; so that they kept him from being beaten by the Players. But in the mean time there was below in the Pit, such another Counter-scu●●le. For the Pick-purses, who come not there but to pick quarrels first, had all their swords drawn, and making a flourish, constrained the Citizens to retire. Lysis was dazzled with the shining of so many Blades, and not being able to imagine when●e the disorder grew, he cried out as loud as he could; O Heaven! O Good manners! Mus● these Fields, that are sacred to Pan, be filled with so manny horrors? O what Butchers! O what Treachery! O what Tears! O what Fears are the cause of our Tears! He had no sooner cried out so, but the quarrel was appeased, and among the dead▪ and among the hurt, there was but one hat lost. Hereupon Anselm went to look for Lysis, fearing he might cause any further trouble, and in the mean time the Pastoral was finished.  
The Mummery at the end of the Play was pleasant enough, yet he liked it not, for he said, it was not seeming that Shepherds, such as he had erewhile seen, should disguise themselves into Jack-puddings, to relate a thousand absurdities in a place where they profess gravity, and should not speak but with sighs, and in amorous and dying expressions  
At the going out of the house, those which were with Anselm, asked him in particular, who that brave Shepherd was he had brought with him. He told them in few words what he knew of him, and so inflamed their desires to converse with Lysis, that they each of them invites him to dinner, in hopes he might bring the other with him: Yet Anselm was forced to decline their civilities, because his affairs were more urgent, and could not dispense with their entertainment: Yet the next day in the afternoon, desirous of a little diversion, after some troublesome business he had in the morning, would needs go abroad, principally indeed for to avoid visits, so he gave order the Coach should be made ready. He asked Lysis which way they should go; who answered, That he thought fit the preparatives for their Journey should be looked after, and that they should go and buy good store of new books for their better instruction and conduct in their Loves. Anselm approving it, bid the Coachman drive into St. James Street, among the Stationers. They drove along our Lady's Bridge, where Lysis having observed a Painter's shop, cried out, Hold, hold Coachman, we have some business here. The Coach being stayed: See you, says he to Anselm, the Painters of Paris have already heard of me; look, they have painted me in my Shepherd's habit, and that with my Shepherd's hook. Anselm looking about, saw in that shop a Shepherd painted, who by accident had somewhat of the air of Lysis  
They went presently out of the Coach, to view it nearer, and Lysis being entered the shop, asked for the Master. When he was come, Sir, says he to him, I am very much obliged to you, that you have taken the pains to draw my picture: but I find here some faults, I pray correct them. You have made the knots of my shoestrings blue, and they should have been red; and here you have made me with a set Ruff, whereas when I was at St. Cloud, I wore nothing but a plain band. Do you think that Shepherds have the leisure to set Ruffs; and if they had, to what purpose were it in the fields, where the rain would spoil them, and the storms rend them? I protest to you, I'll never wear any. Besides, I find you have bestowed too much Vermilion on my face, and 'tis necessary in the complexion of a Lover, the Rose give place to the Lilly.  
The Painter was so surprised with this discourse, that he was somewhat in doubt they were come to jeer him; for Lysis had not then on his white clothes; but Anselm taking him aside, in a serious manner spoke thus to him, The Gentleman hath some reason to imagine that your intention was to draw his picture; for besides that, that countenance somewhat resembles his, he hath worn such clothes, as having been a long time of the company of Players, among whom he acted the Shepherd. Observe him well now, take him for the present in dry colours, and henceforth put his face to all the shepherds you represent. They will sell extremely, for he is well known. Whereupon Anselm turning to Lysis, bid him have a quarter of an hours patience, that he might be drawn more ●o the life. He was very willing, and the Painter conceiving he might get somewhat by it, drew him the best he could. Other Painters have since taken by that original, so that you hardly see any thing besides their Shepherds, either at their houses or their shops in St. Germains Fair. When the Painter had made an end, Lysis told him, he had done but half his work, and that he must also draw the picture of his Mistress, but he would give him that which Anselm had drawn, for to make another in her full length by it. He had in his pocket that little Copper piece, which he showed the Painter, telling him that he must graft that head upon a body clothed like a Shepherdess. Sir, I do not apprehend any thing here, says the Painter, 'tis some Riddle or Emblem, if I should put it upon a body, people would take it for a Monster, 'tis not fit for any thing unless it were to represent Antics in the border of a piece of Tapestry. How, says Lysis, do you not see it is a Metaphorical picture, full of Scientifical Erudition? In what manner else do you imagine my Shepherdess can be painted? You may do as you please, but you will never do it more fortunately, than the Courteous Anselm here; and instead of painting my Mistress, you will paint your own ignorance. Anselm seeing he began to be angry, got him into the Coach again, and having taken leave of the Painter, bid him paint according to his fancy the Shepherdess, that he should place near Lysis, as he doth to his hour, so that we never yet have had any true Picture of Charite. Thence Anselm and Lysis went to St. James-street, to a Stationers that printed a world of Romances. Lysis would see none but the newest, as for the old, he needed them not, for he had them all by heart. As they were bargaining for some of them, in comes Montenor, who having passed his Compliments, acquaints them that Geneura was married. Anselm in the midst of his Congratulations takes him aside, and tells him of his design to go to Bry to see Angelica, and his intention to take Lysis with him, making him believe it was the Forest's Country. I am heartily glad of it says Montenor; do not you know that the house I have bought is but a League from Orontes'? you shall not think of any other Quarters than my house. We'll be as merry as the Maids. Anselm accepting his courtesy, went to Lysis and told him, that this Gentleman had a house in Forests, and that he would bear them company thither, so that a many salutations passed between them. They asked him, what he, who had a soul perfectly martial, come to do in the Latin Country: he answered, An intimate friend of his had sent him a little book for to be printed, and that he had given it the Stationer, to see if it were worth it. The Stationer told him, he had not had so much leisure as to peruse it, and taking seven or eight sheets of Paper written out of his Drawer, delivered them to him. This is what I spoke to you of, says Montenor to Anselm, I wish you had the patience to hear a piece of it; you'll find it the most pleasant and ingenious thing in the world. Anselm told him he was ready to hear what ever should be read. Lysis also being entreated not to dissemble his opinion, said, he would do the like, and that all came very opportunely, and was conformable to the adventures of all Shepherds, and all Heroes in Romances, who never go to any place, but they are entertained with some History: So that being all seated, Montenor read the following Discourse.  

THE BANQUET OF THE GOD'S.  
AVrora had already given the Watchword to the night to draw her Curtains, and truss up her Baggage to be gone, when the earth received a Morning's Draught of pleasant Dew, which gave occasion to those that saw it to imagine, that the Gods were rinsing their Bowls; or that it was the remainders of some Nectar, after a great Feast; or that haply the Beautiful forerunner of the Sun washed her hands at her uprising, or that she emptied her Chamber-pot: But though it might have happened to be any of all these, according to the seasons, as men know well by the different Dews which fall from heaven, yet was it not either of all those things, fell out then; for indeed it was nought else, but that the horses which draw the Chariot of that Goddess who began to show herself, shook their mains at their starting out of the sea. The Sun being obliged to follow her, had by this time put off his Nightcap, and having put on his Cassock of fine gold, had encircled his head with beams. The minutes, who are his pages, helped to make him ready, while the hours having dressed his horses, and given them their Oats, were putting them into the Chariot. It was easy for men hence to judge it would not be long ere he would appear in the Celestial Vault; but they slighted his brightness, and having just broke off a Debauch, that had lasted four and twenty hours, they turned day to night, and went for the most part to bed. Nay, just then when the God's besetting themselves to their ordinary employments, seemed to upbraid their Supinity, their greatest business was to banish all care, nor could they now prostrate themselves at any Altars, but those of bacchus and Sleep. Jupiter who was wont to receive the early addresses of such as adored him in his Temples, was very much surprised with this alteration; and not thinking fit it should be said, that while Mortals entertained themselves in all sorts of pleasures, the Gods should be subject to infinite toil (as for example the Sun, who perfected his course with that diligence, that he had not the leisure to wipe his nose by the way) he resolved to treat them all at a solemn Banquet.  
He communicated his design to Juno, who was then a-bed with him, but she being somewhat of a niggardly humour, was not well pleased that he should put himself to so great expense; and to take away the desire he might have to effectuate his resolution, she told him she had not Napkins enough to entertain such a number, and that it was along time since Pallas had made her any cloth. Now you are to note by the way, that this Linen of the Gods is made of the thread of the lives of Mortals, which is still wound up in heaven, when the Destinies have finished it. That which hath belonged to virtuous and illustrious persons, is employed in Shirts, Smocks, Handkerchiefs and Tablecloths; but for what comes from Rustics and other people of grosser Education, there is only made of it Kitchin-Linnen, and Dishclouts: So that there is nothing in this world lost; and commonly when it reins, 'tis Juno that is driving a buck. But notwithstanding all she could remonstrate to her husband, as to the trouble she should have to get her Linen washed after this great Banquet, he calls Mercury with a loud voice, and commanded him to go and invite all the Gods and Goddesses of the Universe, to Sup with him in his Palace which Vulcan had built upon the top of Mount Olympus. Mercury the Child of Obedience, presently put on his Flying-shoes, and his Wing'd-hat, and got his Caduceur, and having perused the Catalogue of the Gods, whom he was to go and invite to the General Assembly, he took his first flight to the Seventh Sphere, where finding Fate, Nature, Fortune, Prometheus, Janus, Terminus, and certain other Gods, with Saturn in his own Palace, he discharged himself of his Duty and Message to them. Thence he passed through the fourth Heaven, where finding the Sun newly entered his Career, he spoke to him at the side of his Chariot, without giving him any occasion of stay. This God promised him he would drive his Steeds somewhat faster than ordinary, and that he would make as much haste as if he took fresh horses at every Sign, for to be at the place appointed soon enough. Mercury having left him, comes down on earth, because neither Mars, nor Venus, nor the Moon, were yet posssessed of their several Heavens. He went in the first place to the Isle of Lemnos to Vulcan, whom he found very busy making of Thunderbolts, for to munition Jupiter's Arsenal, because the iniquities of men were become so great, that there was need of an infinite number to punish them all. He desired him to leave his work for a while, telling him that Jupiter was to make a Banquet, to which he was come to invite him, and that he had the same Message to his wife and Son. Vulcan, who was nothing Complimental, answered him with a frowning countenance, That he understood not what civility obliged him, to let him go into his Wife's Chamber, while she was yet a-bed; but that as for his Son, he might freely go to him. Whereupon Mercury went out of the Forge, into a little Chamber, where he found Cupid playing with his little Trinkets, as Children use to do. Having asked him what he did; Cupid answered, he was going to wash his headband, which had ●ain foul ever since he had worn it, and that if he had consumed the hearts of so many Lours, and made them shed so many tears, it was for no other end then to get water and ashes enough to drive a Buck. The Ambassador of the King of the Gods laughing in himself at his excellent invention, told him the occasion of his visit, and desired him to acquaint his mother with it. This passed, he took leave of him, as also of Vulcan, cursing such a jealous Coxcomb, that having a wife so handsome, rose so betimes from her, because he would do as other Forge-men; that is, get up in the morning to work. Vulcan who knew he never went abroad without his hands, had an eye to all his tools when he went a-away, but seeing he had not meddled with any thing, he dismissed him peaceably. Mercury having occasion to cross the sea, gave notice to Neptune, and all his Maritime Court; so that he soon acquitted himself of his Ambassage to them. And from thence he went to Aeolus, and did the like: That done, in one continued flight, he got into Thrace, and having found Mars surbishing his Armour under a Tent, he invited him to the banquet with the same Ceremony as the rest. Having by this time traversed the whole earth, he forgot not still in his way, Ceres, Bacchus, PRIAPUS, Pan, the Muses, and an infinity of other Gods and Nymphs, both of the Forests and of the Fountains, and having learned the place whither the Sun's Sister was gone, he went and spoke to her. But besides all this, there yet remained behind that part of his Ambassage, which was to the Deities of Hell. He descends into those Profundities, and in his way meeting certain Shades, who only stayed for his company, to pass the Acheron, he drove them before him with his rod, as a Shepherd drives his sheep. Though he might have easily flown over the River, yet he went into the Ferriboat for the entertainment sake of the Ferryman, whom he had ever professed a Friendship to, there being some relation between their several charges. The fare for each Shade being paid, they placed themselves in the Boat, and Charon took his Oars in hand, while Mercury speaks to him to this effect, Have I not employed my time well, since I have entered an association with thee? And is there not reason thou shouldst be obliged to make me some annual Present, seeing I am so diligent in stirring up all those that are born under my Planet to a professed study of Cheats and Rogueries; whence there happens so many violent deaths, that it must needs swell thy bags much? Besides which, when I observed that the shears wherewith one of the Destinies cuts off the threads of men's lives, were all rusty, and not able to cut but by halves, whence it happened there were many hurt, and few killed outright; I took them and caused them to be grouned at my own charge; so that at this present they cut so well, that men die with the least touch, without any languishing. And to the end we might the sooner grow rich, I have found the means to corrupt those three Spinsters, and have gained them to our side; and they have promised me they will make their thread so small, that it shall break ever and anon; and that when it breaks, they will gain at least an inch of the length that Fate hath allo●ed them.  
Alas, how unprofitable are our designs! replies Charon: For when we have reckoned all, what advantage is there of all this, but to hasten a gain which at one time or other must be ours. Yet were it a good enterprise, if when we have used this expedition to deliver men from earth, we could hinder their enrolling among the Gods: for there are so many deified, that my profit is much the less for it. If this custom be continued, I must present a Petition to Jupiter and Pluto, to beg of the one that he would not deprive me of my deuce, and of the other that he would abate of the rent of this Boat, for which I pay him an excessive rate. And if I receive not justice, I'll go into the world again, and keep a Boat somewhere on the River S●ine, where I shall get more than I do here. But though I should get more where I am, yet I think I must take the other resolution: For, my friend Mercury! here is a world of news stirring. Among the Patentees and Projectors which thou brought'st me a while since, there is one of them the most mischievous Pate that ever was. He is become our King's earwig, and seeds it with damnable projects: He hath proposed to him the building of a Bridge over this River, and hath endeavoured to make it appear to him it were more commodious than my Boat, because then the Shades might at any time pass over in troops, without staying at all on the shore, as ●ow they do. Besides all this, it is taken into consideration, that the souls of Beast's which come hither to stay a while, and return into other bodies, might pass over the bridge thick and threefold. And which is more than all, there are many proud spirits of Princes, Captains, and rich Patentees, which would enter Hell, some in Sedans, some on horseback, and some in Coaches; all which might be easily provided for. Pluto would gain much by this design; for where now they give the corpse but a sheet, men would not then dismiss it without some rich robe, and they would bury it with its richest treasures, seeing the dead party permitted to carry them into hell. Now I do not suffer in my Boat nor bag nor baggage, for fear of being overloaden; and if any one have ever so little, he leaves it behind on the shore, where I lay it up, and that hath been ever my greatest profit. Our King ha●● been informed of it, and being desirous to appropriate all that to himself, he will very shortly cause the water-sledges of his Bridge to be planted: I know not whether I shall receive the Toll shall be taken of those that pass over; but if I should, yet would my gains be much diminished.  
Charon having thus spoken, Mercury promised him his endeavours to do somewhat for him with Pluto: And thereupon being come to the shore, he entered Hell, and went to look for the King of Shades. Having found him in his chamber, discoursing with Proserpina of his ancient Loves, he invited them both to Jupiter's Banquet. Having recovered the Earth again, he remembered him that he was yet to speak to Peace, Honour, Victory, Virtue and Fame: which he was somewhat troubled at, for he knew not where to find all these Deities. At last bethinking himself that they must needs reside in good houses, he went to a certain King's palace; and having put on the form of a Page, he asked the first Courtier he met, whether he knew not where Virtue was? He showed him up a narrow pair of stairs, telling him he should find her there. Mercury went up to the very top, and thence into divers chambers, where he finds a sort of people diversely employed. Some were at Dice, and at every cast, cast out blasphemies, as if their imprecations had been words of conjuration to make them win. There were others discoursed of certain public affairs, wherein yet they regarded nothing but their private interests. And there were a many others whose employment was to sing, dance, drink, and court: Yet there wanted not to be in the place Poets and Orators, who maintained all their actions virtuous. But Mercury was not deceived in them; and he discovered well enough at the end of a Gallery, Fraud, Flattery, and Ambition, debating the fortune of a Favourite. Having asked them where Virtue was, these lewd Goddesses laughed, and told him they had no acquaintance with her, because she was so rough and unmannerly, that she understood not so much as to observe civility and correspondence with the world; and that he should never find her but among rustic and simple people. He presently vanished away; and having fled into a very savage place, he enters a little cottage, where a poor Country-fellow lay a dying. Having asked him some tidings of her whom he looked for, the poor sick man told him, that while he lived his endeavour had been ever to have her in his company; and that she had just left him, having commended him to his good Genius to conduct him to the Elysian fields: but that he believed not his children had retained her, though it had been always his desire she should have been entertained by them. Mercury being somewhat troubled at this, bethought him it was most likely Virtue was among those who taught her precepts to others: And so he went into an University among the Philosophers; but there he found nothing but Vociferation, Pride, Doubt, and Vanity. He walked all up and down, and at length entering into the Library, he perceives the Goddess he looked for seated among the Books. Having asked her what she did there, she told him she had no other abode; and that though many came thither to seek her, yet they never carried her away with them when they had found her. Mercury told her that he came to invite her to supper in the Palace of Olympus, whereat she was very joyful, for she had long since wished to quit the earth as well as Justice. He thereupon asked her where he might find the other Deities he looked for, and whether Fame and Honour ever came into her company? No, says she, go seek those that drink lustily, and those that are great Gamesters, or that are excessively expensive, there you have them. As for Peace, she is only among those that have nothing, and Victory among those that can best deceive. Mercury having had this intelligence, went presently to seek for those Deities, who all promised him to come to the Banquet; except Fame, who excused herself, saying, That it was not for her that Ambrosia was made, and that she fed on nothing but Wind. Mercury observing she had a hundred Mouths, bethought him it was well done of her not to come to Jupiter's Palace, seeing she must have brought Famine along with her, and that Juno would not have bidden her very welcome, taking her rather for a Monster then a Goddess. After that, the Ambassador found Aurora in a Wood, where she sought a Huntsman, whom she was in love with: Having done his Message to her, he returned to the palace of Mount Olympus, to see what they did there. As for the Gods which were fellow-Commoners at his Father's table, he invited them not, the Ceremony as to them was needless. He found them all employed in the preparations of the Banquet; and divers others who were obliged to some attendance to their great King, were already come. Vulcan who is accustomed to be near the Fire, had the charge of head-Cook, and was assisted by the Cyclopes, whom he had brought with him. He was a pleasant spectacle in his Green Waistcoat, his White Apron, and Black Nightcap coming down over his ears. The first Mess they prepared was Ambrosia, which they disguised infinite ways, because that food which was very common among the Gods, was not of any delicacy, when dressed after the usual manner. Vulcan made some into Broth, stewed some, fried some, and some he dressed hotchpotch wise, and some he disposed like Oat-Cakes. But all that being no great matter, he represented to Jupiter, that seeing he was resolved to make a solemn BANQUET, there must be other meats. Jupiter having given him commission to take what order he pleased, he caused Plato to be called, and some other Philosophers, whom he had purposely sent for out of the Elysian Fields. He commanded them to assist him, and to make appear they were not altogether unprofitable in the world, as they had been often reproached; Plato was charged to make ready his Ideas, which must needs be very delicate food for Divine Palates; and another Philosopher, whose Tenent had ever been, that souls were Corporeal, received order to take the souls of such beasts as died and especially of those which were sacrificed, and roast them on broaches, or make Min●'d-Pies of them. This is the most solid nourishment of the Gods, and they are obliged to Vulcan whose invention was the cause they were not lost. Yet Pythagoras, who was only tasked with making the Sauces, came all in a fume to Vulcan, and told him, in maintenance of his own Doctrine, that he was to blame, and that those poor souls which he caused to be massacred, had sometimes lodged in humane bodies, and that they ought to return thither again, and that the Gods desired not to make their food of the souls of men. But it was to much purpose that he cried out, the other Philosophers rushed into the Kitchen, telling him, that though they were the souls of men which they made ready, yet they should think themselves very happy to become the nourishment of the bodies of the Gods, and to be made a part thereof. Notwithstanding all this, when he saw the neck of some Pullet struck off, he cried out as loud as if his own throat had been Cut. Besides, he did nothing but disturb the Cocks, being desirous to beat his Numbers into their heads. He taught them, that there ought to be ten pieces in every fried Mess, that so it might not be without harmony, and that it might have all its conveniences and proportions; and if they dressed any Ambrosia, he instructed them to dispose it into three Messes, affirming that that number was the measure of all things, and that the Gods delighted in an uneven number. Vulcan, who understood nothing of all this Philosophy, took the Ladle out of one of the Kettles, and striking him therewith with as much fury and good will as if it had been a dog that had eaten a shoulder of Mutton, bid him not interrupt him any further, and go and make use of his Arithmetic in the Hall, to see if there were that number of Trenchers and Chairs that should be. That which had angered this Master-cook the more was, that in making towards him, he had with his crooked Leg overturned a Mess of Ambrosia, which had been put on the hearth to be kept warm; so that he repented him he had not made Minc'd-meat of that Philosopher, as he had done of the souls of Beasts. When his anger was past, considering, that all that was prepared was not too much for so great an Assembly of Gods, he found the means to dress them another most excellent Service, but he must first propose it to Jupiter, without whose permission nothing could be done. He went therefore and told him, that among the Celestial bodies there were many living creatures, which did not any good there; and that there would never fall out a better opportunity to eat them then now. Jupiter would not consent, so that Vulcan was fain to speak to him to this effect; May it please your Majesty, It is a long time since you have made any Entertainments, and they say, no feast like that of a Misers: It is to no credit to be at the expense of a small matter. Mortals will not bear you that reverence they do, if they come to know you keep not better cheer than they: Do you not observe how they kill the Beasts they have on earth, for their nourishment? why will not you do the like by those you have in Heaven?  
Jupiter overcome by the reasons of his Son, bid him▪ send his Cyclopes, to take down all the Signs that were good Provision. The business was as soon done as spoken; so Brontus, Pyragmon and some others of the Scullions brought away the Hare, the Swan, the Dolphin, the Whale, the Ram, the Bull, the Crab, and the Fishes, all which they made ready in divers manners: Nay, they did not spare the Dragon, the Bear, the Hydra, nor the Wolf, and some other Beasts, whose flesh was thought somewhat hard and indigestible: For Vulcan affirmed they were already half baked, because they had been so long fastened to stars.  
In the mean time the meat was thus in making ready, Juno and Iris made it their work to accommodate all within the Palace. It was built of Petrified Clou'ds, and the walls were enamell'd with such a diversity of colours, that they defied all Tapestry. There wanted nothing but the sweeping of the floor, wherein those Goddesses were somewhat at a loss for a broom. In this trouble comes in Aeolus, with a great bunch of Keys at his Girdle. He had locked up all the winds within their Caves, except the Zephir, which as his Minion, went always with him, and carried up his train. He perceiving the trouble of the Queen of the Goddesses, swelled up his Cheeks, and blew so about the Hall, that he easily drove out all the dust before him. His Mistress Flora, who could not forsake him, came presently after, with divers other Nymphs, who strewed Flowers all about. Hercules, Mercury, Castor, Pollux, and other of the household set the Tables right, laid the clothes, and placed the chairs. These moveables were made of the Trees, into which men had been of old Metamorphosed.  
Jupiter and Juno having put on their best clothes, came in to entertain the Company, and presently after entered Ceres, who caused to be brought in as good bread as ever was baked; and after that Bacchus, with Pan and the Satyrs, who were loaden with bottles, which they discharged themselves of near the side Table. Silenus who followed them was the Butler, and was already so drunk, that it was not thought he could have drunk any more; he stumbled so oft, as if his legs had been made of Tough, so that they gave him a chair, which came in good time for him to repose his paunch in, which was swollen like the Sail of a ship in a good wind. While Ceres, Bacchus, and all the Gods of the Fields were in their Compliments, Pluto came in with his wife, who since her going to Hell, was become so fottish, that she had forgotten all manner of Civility and Compliment. She made a Courtezy to the Company, and with a rustic simplicity came and said to Jupiter, We must confess indeed Father, you do us a great favour to invite 〈◊〉 to Supper here, we were sad enough at home; when we were gotten into our Chariot for to come out of hell, our Dog came and leapt upon me, and did so lick and kiss my cheeks with all his three tongues, that I could hardly part with him. I thought once to have brought him with me, he had at least done you some service in turning the spit; and than you will not believe what a pretty Cur it is, he dances on his hind feet, and fetches any thing you cast to him. You have done better to have left him behind you, Daughter, says Jupiter, for besides that, it is not a Dog to be carried in one's sleeve, we have others here whom he might have bitten with his six ranks of Jaws. Do you not know-well, that we have here a Dog among the Stars? 'tis he that picks the bones of the Celestial Fowl, which is sometimes eaten at our Table, and as for yours, he should only pick the bones of dead men? But how comes it you have not brought my son Minos along? If we should have brought him, replies Pluto, assuming the Discourse, the two other Judges, and the Destinies, the Furies and Charon would have come too, and in the mean time you know they cannot quit their employments for one moment, without a design of destroying all mankind.  
As Pluto ended his Remonstrance, the arrival of Mars dazzled the Assembly with the glittering of his Armour. His Moustaches were turned like the Guard of a Poignard, that so it might seem his very face was armed, and his eyes were fiery, as those of a Lion in a fury. Yet was there nothing but what was honourable in his Salutations to Jupiter and the rest; and Venus entering thereupon into the Hall▪ he who spoke nothing but of vanquishing others, confessed himself overcome. She was attended by her Son and the three Graces, who had spent the whole day in dressing her. After her came in Pallas, who in the midst of her gravity had some features, that rendered her Amiable: And then came the Moon, and her Brother the Sun, who having retained some of his beams about his head, sufficiently enlightened the place. He was so Complimental, that he would salute the Ladies one after another, but as his mouth was near that of Juno's, to kiss her first: she starts back presently, feeling the heat of his mustachoes, which began to burn her cheek. Jupiter perceiving it, told him he was to blame, that he had not bathed his chin in cold water, when he laid aside his fires. You do not consider, that I was in such haste to come hither, replies Phoebus, that I had not the leisure to cast myself into the sea, where my fair Hostess Amphitrite ever prepares me a bathe. She entertains me there at mine Host's Table, I am afraid she'll make me pay for to day, though I sup not with her.  
While he said this, Neptune, Amphitrite, Palemon, and many other Sea-Divinities arrived, who told him that he was not so rigorously dealt with as he would make believe, and that he had his lodging very cheap. Their dispute was not heard, because Saturn, Janus, and the other ancient Gods came in at the same time, whom they were on all sides busy to receive. There was only Juno, who was not well pleased with their coming. When she saw Janus with his two faces, she cried out to her husband, did I not tell you that you would ruin yourself? You counted but one person in attendance to your Father, and behold there's two. This glutton Janus hath two great faces, and two huge mouths, which can each of them devour as much meat as four. I am resolved he shall not be entertained here; he shall not be at our Table, for he will starve all the rest. Let him go to the gate, 'tis his ordinary charge to keep it. Alas, what do you trouble yourself Sweetheart! says Jupiter: What will my Father say, when he hears you will not have him bring along with him one he makes so much of. Consider, that though Janus hath two mouths, yet he hath but one belly and two hands, so that he can eat no more than any of the rest, and his body can contain no more than what is reasonable. The mouth which he hath behind, serves him to no purpose but to draw in the wind which comes that away: And I must tell you besides that, he may be of good use at the Table, seeing that out of respect to Saturn he must be admitted; for now I think on't, he must be placed towards the side Table, that with his hind-eyes he may look to the wine, which this doting Silenus will not husband so well, and so hinder that these drunken Satyrs, who are to wait, drink it not all: As for the Office of Porter, do not you trouble yourself, for I have given it the Sagittary of the Zodiac.  
While Jupiter gave his wife these consolations, the Gods made sport with Janus, who to make appear to them that there was nothing to be found fault with as to his person, went and kissed Venus with the mouth behind, and with his hands drawing to him one of the Graces, kissed her with the mouth before. There's a Wag, says Phoebus, he should have two wives, he hath this advantage over us, that he can kiss two at once. But you may say as well, says the subtle Prometheus, that he may at the same time receive four boxes in the ear.  
In the midst of this jesting, Aurora, the Muses, and some others arrived; so that there was a great noise of Chariots, and neighing of Horses at the Palace gate. Jupiter seeing all the Guests were come, commanded the Banquet should be served up. The Sun and his Sister had light enough about them, to chase away the obscurity of the Hall; however, to observe order and decency, they fastened to the walls certain plates of gold, which instead of Torches had Arms of silver, and at the hands thereof, there were so many stars nailed.  
Hereupon Mercury, who was the Clerk of the Kitchen enters, with the Fawns and Satyrs, who brought up Messes, which he disposed upon the Table. Jupiter, Saturn, Pluto, Neptune, Juno, Venus, and the rest of the Company having washed their hands in the water of Eridan, sat them down without any dispute, every one according to their quality. The King of the Gods, according to the custom of all great Princes, had his Physician on the one side, and his Jester on the other. And that was Aesculapius and Momus, the one whereof was there to oversee what meats were to be eaten, and the other to carp at the actions and words of the presence. The first bout Momus had, was with his Master, telling him, that he knew not the reason why he had not invited Discord to his Banquet, no more than he had not done at the Marriage of Thetis, and therefore he must expect she should come to sow some dissension to trouble the Feast; and that there is not on Mount Ida, any Shepherd able to decide the differences of the Divinities.  
If there be no more illustrious Shepherds on the Mountain of Ida (says Lysis, interrupting the Narration of Montenor, be it known, there is at this present one at the foot of the Mount of St. Genevieusue, and let not the Gods be any thing troubled, I am as able a judge as Paris. All this is long since past, says Montenor, do not think it a thing present. There's no question but that if you had been in the world when this Banquet was made, Momus had remembered you: I pray do not any further disturb the Gods at their meat: A Mason's Boy will have his hour. Montenor having so said, obtained silence, and having looked into his Paper, went on in this manner:  
jupiter answered Momus, that he had well considered what he said, and that he had already taken order that their enjoyments should not be interrupted. And if he had not invited Discord, nor the Furies, Famine, Envy, Sadness and Poverty, whose company is ever unpleasant, he would send them each their Mess, that so they might not grumble.  
While this past, the most part of the Gods took bread: Saturn cut it with his scythe, Bacchus with his pruning-hook, Mars with his cymiter, and divers of the rest with Ceres' sickle which she lent them. And as for meat, Neptune took him some with his trident; Pluto with his sceptre, which is made in the fashion of a fork; Venus with the point of her Sons dart; and the daughter of Latona would needs be doing with the point of her javelin, and Pallas with the top of her lance. For the Gods are never without their Arms, no not when they are at table; because if they had them not about them, they could not be distinguished one from another. As for example, if you see a picture or statue of Mercury, how will you know it is he, if he have not his Caduceur? It stood them upon at least to have about them the marks of their Divinity, as Jupiter who had his thunderbolt, which his Eagle held in his beak close by him. Yet he thought it not handsome to permit the Gods to cut bread with their Arms; for Saturn in using his great scythe had already saluted his Gossip Janus in the jawbones with the handle of it, and had drawn blood at his teeth. Mercury was much blamed, that he had not taken order for knives and forks at the table, so that he was fain to go immediately to ask for some of Vulcan, who had enough: So he came immediately back, and furnished all the company.  
Momus, whose chiefest desire was to see the the God's quarrel, reassumed his discourse, and said to Prometheus, Thou art now very proud to eat at the table of the Gods, whereas time was when thy own Liver was the food of birds. Do not renew my ancient miseries, replies Prometheus; it suffices that Jupiter hath pardoned me, knowing my offence was not so great as he had thought: He thought, that having form the body of a man, I impudently came even to heaven to steal fire to animate it: But I made appear to him my more modest carriage; I only had the invention of the Burning-glass, which when I exposed to the Sun, I drew his fire to me without stirring from earth. I am glad of the occasion to tell thee thus much, before so many other Gods who knew it not before.  
It is a very commendable thing, says Saturn interposing in the discourse, to forget old quarrels: Should I suffer any thing to be said of what hath happened to Prometheus, I see it would be my turn at length to be made Table-talk. In the mean time let there no stories be made of my fortune; I am no other than what I would be. It is true, time hath been I sat on the same throne whereon jupiter now sits; but it was no longer than Innocence dwelled among men; and now that they are become mischievous, I would not be obliged to govern them. While I reigned, they cared not for riches; and if that Age was called the Golden age, it was because their souls were of gold, and not their Plate. Can it be imagined that I who caused others to live with so little ambition and avarice, am troubled at the loss of my Kingdom? and may it not easily be discovered that it became me to shake hands with the affairs of the world, for to enjoy that tranquillity which others had enjoyed by my means?  
While Saturn said thus, Momus, who knew he contemned not the royalty but because he could not obtain it, went and made a thousand wry faces behind him, and had a great itch to answer him: but he was hindered by a loud shout of laughter, which happened at the lower end of the table. jupiter desirous to know the occasion, it was told him, that the God Terminus, who had no arms at all, had bowed down his head into a Platter for to eat some Ambrosia, dressed with Nectar-sawce, and that the Mess was so hot, that 〈…〉 off his nose and lips. What pity it is, alas poor God (says Momus with a Scoggin-gesture) I know not who hath maimed him in that manner; he hath neither legs nor thighs, yet had he but arms and hands, he might go on his Arss like a Washbowl, whereas now he must be always carried in a Chair like a sick body to an Hospital. Thou which mak'st a Laughingstock of him, says jupiter, my will is, thou shouldst go and feed him. With all my heart, says Momus; and thereupon going behind him, he took some meat on a Trencher, and having given him a little bit, he eat up the rest himself. jupiter seeing his Knavery, bid him come away from him, seeing he fed him after that rate; and bid Destiny, who sat next him, have a care of him. After that, observing that there were divers others complained that the Messes were too hot, he commanded Zephyrus to take some course therein; so this God getting up on his Chair, did so much shake his wings, and blow with his mouth, that all was presently cooled.  
But this was not all, for at the other end of the Table there was the God of Silence, who was much troubled, because he could not eat at all, and who thought it was to no purpose to have invited him to the Banquet, if he had not the power to do as others did. Time hath been, that he was contented only with putting his finger on his mouth, to hinder himself to speak; but of late he had found out a more assured course, and that was by locking his two lips together with a Padlock; yet this invention brought its inconvenience along with it, especially at this time, he being not able by reason thereof to put one bit into his mouth. He made signs to those whom he conceived his friends, to take compassion on him; but there every one was for himself; and Fate, who kept the Key of this Padlock, had forgot himself to bring it with him. There was no other way, but to seek to Vulcan who had been the Smith, and had made it. He understanding well the pain that poor God was in, out of Charity sent one of his Cyclopes, who with one stroke of his hammer broke it asunder; but it put the God of Silence into the danger of losing half his teeth, for the blow light upon his Chin, and was like to have battered to pieces his nether Jaw. He afterwards a●e, but not without difficulty, and much pain; for it was a long time since his teeth had been in any employment. The action of his eating was so ill-favoured, that he made sport to all at Table; yet was it soon over, and all were quiet and well pleased, except Venus, who complained that Priapus, who sat next her, lay so heavy upon her, that he had well nigh overheated her. She had on a Robe so thin and transparent, that one could not be well assured whether she were clad or naked; so that that good Companion, blowing like a horse that smells his oats, clapped his hands ever and anon upon her thigh, and was much amazed he felt nothing but silk. Jupiter fearing some scandal might arise through his incontinence▪ caused him to be placed next to Minerva, who being all armed, admits not so easy embraces, and is somewhat a terrible Mistress. Whereupon Venus swore by Styx, that thence forward she would never be clad so thin, nor should the Graces, nor her Son: Whereat Momus, jeering, said to her, Do you think to be Venus, and not go starknaked? how should the Gods know you? and your Son when he is once clothed, will he be taken for what he is? what hath he to do with clothing, seeing he never feels any cold? But I pray how would you clothe him? shall he put on Breeches? or shall he still were a Bib? I see what the matter is, you would tempt fortune; it will not cost you much to clothe him; for he is so little, he may be put into ones pocket; and besides, the suit you shall make him, will last him a long time, for he grows not at all. But tell me, I pray, hath he given over crying in the night? Doth the little Knave keep his bed clean? doth he not Caca in his Quiver for want of a Chamber-pot? Can he feed himself? how many teeth hath he? If you are troubled with him, your best course were to bestow him on some Princess on earth; she might haply be very tender of him, and would play with him, as if he were some little Dwarf.  
This divine Jester directed all these encounters to Cupid, who to be revenged of him began to make ready his bow: but Venus persuaded him, that the green and yellow Capuche that Momus wore was proof against his darts. In the mean time Momus by the order of jupiter commanded the Tritons, who stood by all this time, to play on their Cornets, and appointed some Fawns to play on their Flutes, that by the sound of their Instruments they might not suffer the jawbones of the Gods to be idle. He himself played his part with them on the bells he had at his knees, wherewith he made a special noise in dancing. He had also a stick with two Swine-bladders full of pease fastened to the ends, wherewith he kept time with the rest upon the swollen cheeks of the Loud-musick, which must needs yield an excellent harmony.  
The second Course was hardly on the Table, but the Gods were extremely amazed at the new sort of meats that was served in to them. The Ideas they found most excellent: yet Aesculapius said to jupiter, Let your Majesty commend this to others; this kind of meat is not cordial for you, it is too windy. Saturn and Fate hearing this, took all to themselves, and it found them no more work than a Strawberry to a Swine: though the Doctor told them also, that he knew well their constitution, and that those Ideas would prove purgative to them, and that he foresaw it would give them the squirt. As for the souls which were fried, he permitted jupiter to feed of them, assuring him they were extremely nutritive. Hence grew an occasion of drinking abundance of wine and nectar, for Vulcan had spiced the sauces a little too much. Ganymede gave jupiter to drink, Hebe to juno, and the Satyrs to to all the other Gods. Now the good janus, who had been charged to see that these brave Cupbearers did not drink, had in the beginning well discharged himself of his duty, and had railed at two Satyrs who had confuted a bottle; but at length his faithfulness was corrupted: They promised him, that if he would say nothing, they would give him as much as any six others. So that having accepted this proposition, while one presented him a glass before, another gave him one behind. In the mean time the Satyrs drank by turns at the side-table, without any fear of Silenus, who by this time was fallen asleep in his chair, and snored so loud that he made almost as much noise as the music. Howbeit janus had two faces, yet had he but one head; so that the wine and nectar which he had liberally taken fumed into his brain, and somewhat troubled it: And being now arrived to a loss of all modesty and temperance, he drank a health to Bacchus, desiring he would pledge him. Bacchus' asked for wine; but the Waiters being busy about somewhat else, heard him not. He perceiving himself so carelessly attended, took his knife and knocked seven or eight times on the table as hard as he could for to make them hear: which action was very ill taken, for it seemed by that he thought he was in some Tavern. Yet jupiter passed it by, knowing the good humour of the Companion, and being desirous to give janus and him their loads, Hola there I says he, Fill them their wine. Sing my boys: begin janus, thou art the challenger in this combat. What will your Majesty have me sing? replies janus: shall I say somewhat of this liquor that elevates the heart? Sing what thou wilt, says jupiter. Whereupon janus sung what he knew, and that so admirably, that never came there any thing near it: For the mouth before was the Base, and that behind the Treble; so that he alone made an excellent music of two parts, except that ever and anon it was interrupted by a certain hiccock which discovered the generosity of his heart, that still thrust back any thing that was distasteful to it. Bacchus' having taken his full bowl, sung, Great Alexander so loved Wine. making withal an harmonious clattering with two Trenchers one against another; He burdened his song with turning of his eyes, and such waggish postures, that it made all the company very merry. This egged every one to further debauchment, and it came so home, that the very Goddesses were at their Rubies on their nails.  
Upon this Mercury ushered in the third Course, which consisted altogether of celestial living creatures: There was both flesh and fish; so that there was no small amazement at this diversity of meats. Jupiter said, he would have the pleasure to let the company guess where such different services could be found; and that after supper he would tell them the truth. The most part fed, without desiring to be informed what it was; and there remained not the fourth part.  
As for the last Course, it was very sumptuous: For Pomona had brought of all sorts of fruits, and the Cooks had made baked devices. Proserpina took a great deal of Tart and Biscuits, and put into her pocket, saying it was for her darling Allecto. This was not thought well-beseeming; and it was easily seen that the good Lady thought herself at some Country-wedding. But they had not time to speak of it, because there were heard such loud cry at the entrance of the Hall, that every one asked what the matter was. Mercury came and told them, that it was only the Pedees' of Mars were at cuffs with the Pages of the Sun, for the leg of the soul of a Turky-hen, which they had snatched from those that took away. jupiter commanded Pythagoras to be sent to them to teach them silence. For as for Harpocrates, who was the God of silence, he could not now hold his peace himself, since his mouth was opened; and therefore was so much the further from being able to make others hold theirs: Besides, it was now but fitting he could enjoy the present satisfaction which he took in speaking, while he had the means and liberty. It must be supposed the pleasure he took in it was so much the greater, by how much it was more than ordinary with him. Not to mention, that the good cheer he had made had so possessed his brain, that he had forgotten his Quality.  
This tumult being appeased, they looked towards janus, who being quite drunk was grown very insolent. When supper began, he had put on his Serpent that bites its own tail, like a Scarf; but now he had taken it off to bestow it about the ears of those were near him; and he would needs go play the Tumbler, and make hey-passes as if it had been through a hoop, had they not hindered him. For want of this diversion, he beset himself to prattle with both his tongues together. His two mouths abused one the other, contradicted and belied one another; and presently becoming friends again, defied one another to drink. If the one laughed, the other cried; and if he had promised any thing with the mouth before, he performed never the more for that, for that behind recalled it, saying it had not consented thereto. Besides, the face he had backward was the more ancient; and to seem knowing, it would never be of the same opinion with the other, which was its younger brother. jupiter seeing juno did nothing but lower at all this, caused the good janus to retire, and be disposed on some bed. Then the Table was taken away, and the nine M●s●s tuned their Instruments. While they were singing three or four new airs, Mercury, Vulcan, Momus, the Cyclops, the Tritons, the Satyrs, and the rest that had waited had the leisure to sup. As soon as they had done, the Tritons were sent for to make the company dance by the noise of their Cornets. Having begun a Brawl, jupiter took Inno; Mars, Venus; the Sun, his Sister; and so every one his Mate: among the rest Fate took Fortune; and 'twas a pleasant sight to see him dance in his nightgown with that light Goddess, who being ever accustomed to go on a bowl or a wheel, frigged it strangely on a firm floor: she shaked him so vigorously, that one of his slippers slipped off his foot, and his nightcap fell off his head, and his spectacles fell down, which he had put on to see if he observed his paces aright. Vulcan, M●mus, Mercury, and some others were not in the dance; they had an itch to play some knavish prank to make merry the company, and that was to act a Comedy. Vulcan, who was not much acquainted with matters of that nature, said there needed no more than to take a certain Piece of a Greek Poet's, wherein the Author had made all speak so, as they could easily find what they had to say. That would be too rustic, says Mercury; we must do somewhat that's new. We have here in the house the Muses, which are more knowing then the Poets, seeing they inspire them: Yet to tell you the truth, they will not show us any thing proper for us, such is their pretence to chastity and reservation; and I do not see how those that make Love-verses can imagine they assist them therein, when they never make any themselves. However I must tell you that we will not want for Poetry, if we please, though we have neither Homer nor Hesiod; for we have Pythagoras and Plato, that talk as strange things as the Poets. Vulcan liking well of this, called these Philosophers; and Pythagoras being acquainted with the design of these Gods, said to them, As to the subject and discourses of your Comedy, seek out another Author: but if you will disguise yourselves and entertain the company with a Mummery, I promise you my best assistance: I understand the business of Lots as well as any, and particularly that of the die; I can make you cast passage at every cast. I can tell a little how to cheat too, says Mercury; Come, let's do that, there needs not so much preparation. That said, they resolved to represent the divers qualities of Mortals, which was a custom they had ever observed, merely to be in some degree revenged of men who ever in their Comedies represent the Gods.  
While they were looking for clothes and vizards to disguise themselves, the other Gods broke off their revelling; and having seated themselves up and down, began to talk merrily of their ancient Loves. There was only Saturn would bear no part in these enjoyments; but went to hold janus his head, who was disgoring into his twice double-lined Cap. Being returned, he made the whole presence laugh; for he began discourses so simple and fond, as soon discovered he was so old that he had renewed his infancy. In the mean while Venus, desirous of some other diversion▪ jeered jupiter for having forced him so often to change shape: The best thing she said to him was, that he had not practised his Transformations seasonably, and that it was not for Europa that he should have changed himself into a Bull, but for Io whom himself had changed into a Cow; because if they had both had the bodies of the same Animal, they had done better together, and they might have generated a number of little Calves which might have been deified, and might have grazed very decently in heaven. Jupiter desirous to prove in the first place, that the most chaste Deities have been sometimes overcome by Love, as well as himself had, brought into play the Sun's Sister who was near him, and showed how she had been in love with Endymion and Hippolytus. But she alleged for her defence, that sith she never saw the one but when he was asleep, she could not receive any Love-enjoyment from him: And that as for the other, she loved him not for any reason but because he had spewed himself chaste; and that if he had yielded at her first assault, she would have despised him. Venus in the mean time told Neptune in his ear, She hath some reason indeed to slight my Son's torch; for 'twere to much purpose for her to be burnt by it, when it should burn no body for her: I never feared her being the fourth among those that should strive for the golden Apple; she's the most ugly here, and her face is as round as a Tabor. If her face be withal big, replies Neptune, she is by so much the more proper to be beloved, for many may kiss her at once. But you consider not, replies Venus, that when her Lovers expected a whole face, they should find but half a one: do you not know she changes every quarter of a month, and that sometimes she increases, and sometimes decreases?  
Venus' having spoken thus of the Moon, summed up what detractions she could of all the other Goddesses, thinking by that means to advance her own beauty. She had her bellyful of jeering at the ugly visage of Proserpina, and her clothes which were not in fashion, and of her dressing, which was so unhandsome, that it was easily seen that the infernal Furies were her ordinary Tire-women. She must needs also take occasion to laugh at the extravagant dressing of old Cybele, who had Cities and Castles on her head. But Aurora who was somewhat near her, came and said to her, Do not jeer at her fair Cypris; it would somewhat puzzle you to find out a more commodious fashion for an ancient and modest Goddess as she is: I speak what I know; for ever since the beginning of the world I am her Tirewoman, and every morning I give her a Gown according to the seasons, sometimes embroidered with pearls and flowers, and laced with green, and sometimes set out golden harvests or silver snows.  
While Aurora and Venus were thus engaged in a tattle, Jupiter speaking of the Loves of the rest as well as of his own, said, that seeing they had all taken the pleasure not to have abated one lascivious prank they could have played, he was not amazed at any thing but one, which was, that the fair Cytheraea Queen of Unchastity, after so many adulteries and incests, had not committed that of lying with her own son; and that never any such imagination entered the brain of any Poet. This proposition was censured abominable: So that Jupiter being obliged to change discourse, spoke thus to the whole Assembly. I would not erewhiles discover unto you what meat you fed on in the last course; you shall not any longer be in any doubt of it: They were the celestial living creatures that you were presented with. Venus told me but now, that I was to blame for not having transformed myself into a Bull, for to enjoy Io when she was a Cow, whence might arise a generation of little Calves to people the heavens: But I should have been sorry to have had such childreu; for when I should no more endure Beasts in so brave a country, I must have been forced to kill them with the rest.  
Jupiter had no sooner said so, but all the Presence murmured against him, and especially those who were any thing concerned in the business. Bacchus was angry for having lost his Ram, Hercules his Hydra; and every one complained, that the Creatures which were dedicated to them were taken out of a place where they did them so much honour. The Sun cried out above all the rest, saying he cared not whether ever he walked any more through the heaven, now that his ordinary Land lords were not in the twelve Inns where he used to lodge. To be short, 'twas generally concluded that Jupiter was to blame for putting to death a sort of beasts which did him no hurt, and which besides belonged not to him; and that he should rather have killed his own Eagle, or his Wife's Peacock, and not entertain his guests at their own charges. You are angry at a small matter, says Jupiter: Is there any reason there should remain any Beasts in Heaven, when we send so many generous Captains and learned Philosophers to Hell? What service had we from so many creatures, unless it were to find pastime for the petty Gods, as Ganymede and Cupid, who made it their employment to lead them up and down in a string? Moreover, if we had had he and she of every one, you might stand upon't that some profit might be made of them, and that they might bring forth young: But they were all disproportionable; and if they had once but been any thing hot, I leave you to consider what kind of monsters they had produced; as if the Bull and the Hydra had gone together, or the Ram and the Bear. What's more then all; there would not have been any should have had any milk fit to make cheese of, and I suppose there's none will avow it had been any great revenue to go and milk them every day for nothing. But if haply it be said they had some feathers or furs which would have served us to some purpose, I have done well to kill them, that we might have them. And to the end there should be no partiality used as to all the other Signs of heaven, both animate and inanimate, I have caused them all to be taken away, leaving nothing but the Stars to give their ordinary light. As for the Demigods & Demy-Godesses, as the Centaur and Andromedes, I have also caused them to be removed, to wait on me in my palace: And as for whatever was insensible, I have disposed all to those uses whereto they are most fit, as the Crown to put on Juno's head, and the Bowl for myself to drink in. As for the River Eridan, I have not conceived we have any need of it; for it runs so slowly, that it is but as dead water, which is not good either to drink or wash any thing withal; and we had much ado to get so much clean water as to wash our hands before meat, which we have been fain to strain through a cloth to make it look a little clearer: Therefore I have caused certain holes to be made in that part of heaven where that River is, so that it still glides down upon the earth; and I believe men are somewhat amazed to see it rain so plentifully. Now it is partly for their sakes that I have taken all these Signs out of heaven; 'tis for to punish them for the contempt which a while since they were guilty of towards me: They shall not henceforward have the pleasure to see the heavens diversified with so many figures, whence they easily foresaw things to come.  
And this is the Remonstrance which Jupiter made to the rest of the Gods; and to say truth, he had entertained such a jealousy against Bacchus, Love, Sleep, and some others, who many times were adored in his stead, that he was big with a design to bring some mischief on Gods and men together. Yet was there not one in the Company durst discover his resentment, bethinking themselves, that if he was truly angry, he was powerful enough to ruin them. The fair Phoebus well remembered the day when he had banished him out of heaven, and reduced him to a posture of begging in the earth, till at last he was commended to some petty King to be his Cowherd. There was not one who could not call to mind some such token of his indignation; but as they were ruminating on this sad subject, Comus enters the Hall, with a Torch in his hand. Momus followed him clothed like a King, and Vulcan dressed like a Queen; but he would have been so much the more disguised, if he could have forborn limping. The other Maskers were clad, some like Soldiers, others like Philosophers, and many like Tradesmen. Pythagoras' dressed like a a Fool, was going to express the moral of the Mask, while there enters of a sudden into the place a sort of people which no body knew. jupiter thought they had had relation to the former Maskers, but Vulcan and his fellow Actors had not brought them in. The first of the troop, who had a Flaxen curled head of hair, and a Crown of Laurel on his head, advanced as far as the midst of the Hall, and playing on a Harp he had in his hand, snng these words, O great jupiter, who art obliged to render justice to all the world, how long wilt thou suffer there should be God's Gods and Goddesses that intermeddle with the charges of others, and are not content with their own? Behold, here we are a company of Divinities, deprived of all wealth and honours, who come and demand thy assistance. I will tell thee one thing that never came into the consideration of the Gods. There are in this place a sort of Affronters, who besides the charge which hath been given them, have encroached upon ours, and have made believe we were not in the world, whence it hath happened that we were not invited to thy Banquet. That young Gallant that stands by thee, who pretends to so much beauty with his golden Moustaches, should he not be content with the conduct of that Chariot which brings the day with it; but that he must withal be the Conductor of the Muses? 'Tis I That am he, I am the true Apollo, the son of jupiter and Latona, and the God of Prophecy, Poetry and Music; and he is but the Son of Titan, and some obscure Divinity. Here is also my sister Diana comes after me, who also complains of the Moon there, who entrenches on her quality.  
This Apollo would have sung more; but his sister coming forwards as soon as he had spoken of her, came and said to Luna, What Imposture is this! Thou mak'st the world believe that thou and I are but one: There are many such testimonies of thy lewdness, for thou wouldst sometimes fain persuade men, that thou governest in Heaven, in the Forests, and Hell. How canst thou satisfy so many Professions? 'Tis well known, that when thou shinest in heaven, I am seen hunting in the woods. I believe thou art so impudent as to say thou mayest be in several places, and that when there appears but one half of thee in heaven, thy other half is on earth. But all this granted, canst thou be Proserpina too, who is the daughter of Ceres? whereas 'tis known thou art the daughter of Latona: Thou sayst thou art chaste, yet Proserpina is married to Pluto. But wouldst thou not be called Lucina too, interposing thyself in Juno's affairs? dost thou not betray thy want of discretion, in desiring that women in childbed should invoke thee for Midwife! Canst thou who art a Maid, know any thing in that business?  
This Diana had no sooner began this Harangue, but she was interrupted by some other Divinities, who had the like complaint to make. There was a God of Time that opposed Saturn; and a Minerva, Pallas; insomuch, that there was not one in jupiters' Assembly that was not challenged for somewhat; and he himself not being exempted, knew not well what to say. The confusion was so great, that they would not hear one the other speak; so that the Maskers seeing their design disappointed, put off their Vizards, for to speak face to face to those that gave them offence. Every one strove to give the most ancient records he could of the power then in debate; and he that gave the best account of his genealogy, carried it. The most part referred the difference wholly to the judgement of Plato and Pythagoras: but they excused themselves, professing their incapacity in that point. Jupiter, Saturn, and Fate were of opinion the business should be referred to Homer, Hesiod, and Theognis, and such other Poets as had treared at large of their original and power. But there was not any one had the patience to stay till they were sent for to the Elyzian fields: besides it was considered they could not give much satisfaction, because it had been their ignorance and carelessness that had caused all the disorder, in stead of preserving the glory of the Gods, and had every foot ranked among them infamous Princes; being so little thrifty of Divinity, that they attributed it to a Tripe-woman sconced at the corner of a street, if it happened she was their Mistress.  
The Gods being now quite ignorant whom to address themselves to for the deciding of this difference, disputed the matter with that earnestness, that there began a furious quarrel among them. Bacchus' cut the noses and ears of all came in his way with his pruning-hook▪ and Ceres did the like with her sickle: Apollo, Diana, and Cupid shot a world of arrows▪ The Muses broke their Harps and their Timbrels on the heads of those said any thing to them: Venus paid Proserpina about the ears with one of her patins, and thrust pins into her breech: Saturn cut the hams of those he met with his scythe: But above all, Mars and Minerva were most terrible, the one for his sword, the other for her lance. Those that had no arms cast stools at one another's heads: And there was not any but was in the charge, except the God Terminus: He had all the while kept his arse warm on a cushion, where he sat most majestically, believing all aught to give him place, and that he was thought so redoubted that they durst not assault him. But he was much deceived; they scorned to strike such a simple wretch, whom they thought not able to hurt any body, nor had any other faculty then that of Resisting.  
jupiter mistrusted now that Discord had raised this sedition, because she was not respected as she should have been: She had not had her mess brought her soon enough; and Sleep who had received charge to set her a-bed, lest she should come and disturb their enjoyments, was fallen asleep himself, having gotten drunk in the Kitchen among the Turn-spits, whereof he was one. She therefore being awake, and having a desire of revenge, made it her business to stir up the modern Gods against the ancient. And jupiter seeing that blows were dealt in the disorder by all, without considering whether they were friends or foes, knew that the final ruin of so many different Divinities was near at hand: And not deigning any other but himself should have the honour to end this difference, he hurled his Thunderbolt among the Combatants, not caring to destroy himself withal. This blow was so effectual, that his Palace was turned to ashes with it, and since that time there hath not been any Poet could tell us what became of all those were in it: But the more knowing sort of men, who I expect should give me some credit, will hence easily infer that all those false Gods are not now in the world; and if there cannot any more be seen in the heavens those living creatures they had placed there, it's to be supposed they were all eaten up at this Banquet, as I have told you, and that there remained nothing but Stars. And if men cannot observe the Sun and Moon in chariots drawn by horses, it is because those great Luminaries have their dependence on an Infinite Power who makes them go alone, without having occasion to be drawn by those excellent Waggoners which the folly of Poets had bestowed on them. Whoever therefore that shall any more mention these powerless Divinities, after he hath heard what we have delivered of them, let him assure himself he shall be taken for one, who esteeming nothing but what the Ancients have left us, imagines it a matter of great reputation to be a Fool with Antiquity.  
For my part, if you think it strange I have related all you have heard, know I received it from Pythagoras, who at the beginning of the fray of the Gods went out of the Palace, and finding at the gate the Bow of Iris which is the Ladder of heaven, lid down along to the earth; where having a long time wandered up and down, a fancy took him to turn jackdaw, as he had sometimes been a Cock. I had bought him of a Bird-seller, and had made him so tame that he would come and feed out of my hand. One day he jumped upon my table, where there was an Alphabet in a great character: After he had divers times pointed at certain Letters with his bill, I sat me down and observed him, imagining there might be somewhat of design in it, as indeed there was; for not being able to speak, he acquainted me with his fortune by that invention. I should have spent many long days to put together the letters he touched, and exactly write the words; and besides I mistook sometimes, and misobserved the characters: So that my Daw bethought it to take ink in his bill, and to write me down his intentions, to spare me that trouble. By that means I got from him one part; and for the other, he told it me with his tongue, which by little and little began to be unbound, and so gave me the full relation of the Banquet of the Gods. I think this learned Bird was unwilling I should know any more from him: For as soon as the last Letter of the discourse I received from him was finished, he flew away through a window which I had left open, not thinking he would ever have forsaken me.   
HEre Montenor gave over reading, there being no more in his Papers; and Anselm affirmed, that all he had heard was infinitely pleasant; but he wondered at one thing only, which was, that the Gods took no Tobacco in such an illustrious Debauchery. Tobacco is the last course in hell, said Montenor, 'tis no Celestial food; yet Pluto, who could not forget his ordinary dish, carried some always about him, and 'tis to be conceived, that after this famous Banquet he did take some. The Author assured it, and told me at the same time, that there was not any but Prometheus, who would taste of this new dish. And that he hath not mentioned it, was because he conceived that did nothing against the Poets: no more hath he said, that Mars durst drink neither wine nor nectar, and that he had by him some Diet-drink in a bottle, which Aesculapius had presented him, whereof he drank now and then, because Venus had given him the Running of the Reins. In like manner divers other undescent things have been passed by, lest it should have proved of ill example to the Readers; and particularly there hath been nothing said of Priapus, who besides what hath been mentioned of him, played some other pranks of his profession. The Author reserves all that for the Commentaries he intends upon his Banquet of the Gods; and in the mean time these good things are only spoken under the Rose, and to Good-fellows.  
But we are yet to know the opinion of our noble Shepherd of this Piece. In good faith the Author is a crafty knave, says Lysis; yet he hath a good wit, 'tis his own fault, if he make not good use of it, but I should have wished, he had spoken of the Gods more reverently than he hath. You do not apprehend the business, replies Montenor, do you not see it is his design to abuse them? The Ancients have left us many monstrous volumas, wherein there is neither reason nor conduct. Every one feigns and imagines a world of Divinities, as they please themselves; and if one hath assigned them such a father and mother, he that writ after him, hath found them others. As for the places of their birth, and their several actions, they agree as ill as the Clocks of the Suburbs do with those of the City. Besides, they relate Metamorphoses and other miracles, that have not any probability at all. Our Author would laugh at all this, and note, that all the Poets are much obliged to him, for in this discourse he hath cleared up abundance of obscure things, which they themselves understood not, and whereof they could not give any shadow of reason Consider all he hath said of the the Thread of the Destinies, of the Signs of heaven, of Aurora and the Sun; they are things, which though they render the Fables ridiculous, yet give withal a greater discovery of their absurdities. As for instance, The Poets assure us that the Sun is a God filled with heat and light, who walking through the heavens, enlightens us here; and yet they say withal, that having lent his Chariot to Phaeton, he gave the world the day instead of the other, but that approaching too near the earth, he was like to burn it up; what an absurdity is this? for seeing the Sun himself was not there, what light and what heat could there be? In what manner have those egregious Coxcombs ever explained this? No, they never troubled themselves to do it; for they speak confusedly of the power of their Divinities, without laying any foundation for things. They have never given us any certain information, whether that body which we see be the head of the God Apollo, (as it is likely, because there is an appearance of a face) or whether it be a Torch he carries in his hand, or haply his Chariot all a fire. Some call him Phoebus with the golden hair, others the Torch of the day, and others the burning Chariot. How then shall we understand the Fable of Phaeton? without question we must say that there is in the heaven a great Globe of fire, which Apollo fastens behind his Head, or behind his Chariot, when he is to go his course, and that it was possible he might have given it to his Son. But where's he among the Poets, that hath thus particularised these things. It is my Author hath found out this sleight, and hath taught it me; doth he not say that the Sun fastens his beams about his head? I should never have done, if I would specify all the places where he hath cleared up the Fables. Remember it, that you may observe them, and believe what I tell you, and that is, that the discourse I have now read to you, excels all the Poets have ever writ. All will not grant you that, says Anselm; consider, that the Fables of the Poets are Mystical things, wherein all the ancient wisdom lies hid. They have done well to make you believe that, replies Montenor: There is Notalis, Comes, and some other Gentlemen of Leasure, who have employed themselves to make Mythologies, and have found out those expositions of the Fables, which never came into the imaginations of the Poets. But assure yourself, that if I had a mind to moralise on the Romance of Mellusin, and Robin the Devil, I could find out as handsome things, as upon that of the Sirens and Hercules. What do you think my Author hath said any thing without reason? If the Nightcap and Spectacles of Fate fall down in dancing, he shall tell you what it signifies, and he is able enough to make a Methologie on his Banquet of the Gods. Be not angry, we easily believe it, says Lysis, and I assure you withal, that I have a great esteem of the ingenuity of this Author; but I would not advise him to print this piece by itself, because it is too short. My Genius tells me he is designed to compose my History? 'tis there he may dispose of it. What know you whether it will be convenient, says Anselm: Men laugh at those who have foisted into their Romances things which were not to the purpose. I'll furnish you with another invention, he must in its proper place mention that the Banquet of the Gods hath been read to you, and then it shall be put in the end of the Book by itself. If divers Anthors I could name, had known this cunning slight, their works would have been better by much, and they could not have been taxed to have interlarded them with Histories and Verses repeated to so little purpose, that the Readers pass them over when they meet them. Thus in the Argemi, there are such long discourses as might make a Book apart, besides that fine Story of the Excrement, with the Verses on that subject; which Barclay would needs thrust into his Romance, for to give it a better sent in the world. Thou art Satyrical, friend, says Lysis, keep thy advice to thyself, make thy own History, after thy own fashion, and let me alone to take order for mine. This Banquet of the Gods is not improper for me as those pieces thou quotest. It treats of those things which have most relation to what I have in design; and it is so much to my purpose, that I shall remember it as long as I live; and he that should not put it in would commit an error, and should not be a faithful Historian; for seeing it is true it hath been read to me, it is necessary it should be put down word for word, to show what consequence the discourse might have, and what judgement I should make of it. But stay, seeing my renown is dispersed every where, and that the Painters have already taken my picture, may it not be that some Romancist of this age hath already undertaken to write of my Loves; for there are those who hunt every where for subjects to exercise themselves on. I am clearly against it, that's a thing ought not to be done without my approbation. He thereupon turned to the Stationer, and said to him, Sir, have you not THE LOVES OF THE SHEPHERD LYSIS? No indeed Sir, replies the Stationer, I do not know the Book; I do not believe there is any hath such a Tile. I am very glad on't replies the Shepherd, you shall see such a thing one day, and you shall have the Copy of it. I acquaint you that I am going to Forests, to run through divers adventures for to amplify the matter; and believe it, there will happen to me such rare things, that when they are well writ, as I hope they shall be, and that you shall make them be well printed, there will sell more of the Book, than any other in the world: For know, that I observe the Art of Loving better than any lover that ever appeared on the Theatre of History. I am sorry I came not hither in my Shepherd's habit, you should have seen that it became me better than that Celadon, who is in the Frontispiece of your Astraea.  
The Stationer seeing that Anselm and Montenor could not forbear laughing at these pleasant extravagancies, could not choose but laugh too. There were some in the shop who came to buy Books, and they were somewhat amazed at it; and considering the actions and words of Lysis, did almost take him for what he was. A Sallad-wench that was in the street, quite ravished with admiration to see him, plucked by the apron one that cried Hot baked Pears, for to stay her and make her partake of the pleasure: Nay there was a Beggar, who for being taken up there, lost a mess of Pottage which he should have had three doors off.  
At length Anselm being in haste to be gone, took five or six books, and paid the Stationer for them. But Montenor looking what they were, said, Certainly you have not much to do with money, seeing you bestow it so ill: For my part, I am sick at the heart if I but hear read three lines of those fopperies: These books are as profitable to those that read them not, as to those that read them. You understand not our affairs, says Lysis to him: We buy these books for no other end but to see if we can do greater wonders than what are related in them; you shall have your share of the pleasure there will be to see them done: Assure yourself, that if the Lovers in these histories pass two days without eating, I will four; and if they shed tears as big as one's thumb, I will shed as big as one's head. You mean a pin's head perhaps, replies Montenor; and if you fast all day, you will burst with eating at night. You are a scoffer, Montenor, says Lysis: you shall find that my words and my actions can well keep house together.  
That being passed, he went into the Coach with Anselm, and Montenor also, because he then had no horse. Anselm took this Gentleman home to supper: And as he was still showing The Banquet of the Gods, which he had taken back from the Stationer, he said, that seeing Lysis thought the Piece too short to be printed by itself, he would return it to the Author. Nor made he any difficulty to tell them, that he who had made it was called Clarimond, a Youngman of most excellent parts, and one that lived hard by his house in Forests. Lysis understanding so much, was infinitely satisfied, promising he should one day dispose of him as he pleased.  
He spent the night, and the best part of the next day in reading the books which were bought: And the day of their departure being come, Montenor came to Anselme's house, so that they went all three together in the Coach. They asked Lysis whether he knew how many leagues it were from Paris to Forests? He answered, that to his remembrance he had heard say there was a hundred. Who told you so are deceived, says Anselm; and if they have counted a hundred leagues hence into that Country, they have not known the nearest way. But without any further information as to that point, I'll bring you thither in two days. I make no question of that, replies Lysis; it may be Love hath lent your horses wings to make them go faster.  
They entertained themselves in this manner with many excellent Poetical imaginations by the way, as also in the Inns where they baited. In the evening they reached a Village, whereof Montenor's Brother was Lord; the Gentleman's name was Fleurial, and his Wife's was called Cecilia. Anselm was willing to go see them before he went to Brie, that Lysis conceiving they went a great way, might believe he was carried into Forests. Montenor's Sister-in-law, who was a merry Grig, presently discovered that the Youngman had not the soundest brain: And to be more certain of it, she set upon him and asked him why he was so sad as he seemed to be? Such a courteous Lady must not be denied, replies Lysis: Know therefore that if I am melancholic, the reason is, that I too much think on the beauties of one, whose feir eye enchants me. What, she is one-eyed than whom you love! replies Cecilia; for you speak but of one eye. Pardon me, says Lysis; 'tis only that the best Poets always use this phrase, though their Mistresses have two eyes: And if you will have a reason of it, it is because the beams of both eyes meet together as if there were but one; or else because there is but one eye that hurts, and the other heals. Besides, there are Lovers which say, that their Mistresses have the Sun in one eye, and the Moon in the other; and Ronsard believes that Cassandra had Venus in the left eye, and Mars in the right. But to return to my Mistress: You are to believe she is adorned with the pillage of the Graces; and though she have a hue of snow, yet doth she not cease to set me on fire perpetually. Good God if she be snow, and live in Forests, there must be care taken she be not melted by the sun, for it is a great deal hotter there then 'tis here; and if we had now a little piece of her body, we might make good use of it to put into the glasses to cool the wine. How could that be, seeing I tell you it heats? says Lysis: Besides, as for the sun, she fears it not, for she is a Sun herself. How happy are you then, when you are near her! if you have but a Sundial, you may know what it is of the clock. That cannot be, replies Lysis: for her rays are so strong, that they pierce through the opake bodies, and make no shadow. Let us return to our first discourse, that is to say concerning the whiteness of my Shepherdess: You are to know she hath a countenance of milk. She hath an ugly one then, says Cecilia; why do you affect her? I say, of curded-milk, replies Lysis, Do you apprehend me? I do, answers Cecilia, that she hath a countenance of Cow's milk: but do not the Flies as they pass by pitch on it for to drink, and are there not some drowned? All that are there escape shipwreck, replies Lysis; for there are blown Roses on her cheeks, whereon these filthy vermin light and ride on them with as great pomp as if they were in a ship. If this milk be good to make cheese of, says Cecilia, you will get much by such a Mistress, she will be a great revenue to you. That it is good to make cheese, I can assure you, says Montenor, who overheard them; for there are already yellow spots on the cheeks of this Beauty, as there are on a cheese that hath been six months a ripening in a cellar. Hold you your peace, says Lysis to him; you speak with little respect of the Wonder of this age; 'tis well seen that you know her not. I return therefore to what I said before, that there are a many Roses blown on the face of my Shepherdess, and not Marigolds, as Montenor says.  
This perfect Lover was in the road to have spoken many other things to maintain the glory of Charite: But the Master of the house broke off all these discourses, that they might sit down to supper, where he would not permit any talk but of drinking. After supper there passed so many divers discourses between Cecilia and Lysis, that she was infinitely pleased with him, and the next morning her greatest regret was the departure of her guests. The second day at evening, they being near the place where they were to go, Anselm gave Lysis notice of it, whereat he took so great satisfaction, that he began to propose to himself what they should do when they were come to the banks of Lignon. As for you, Montenor! you are well known there, seeing you have a seat there: But as for me and Anselm, we are not known there at all. Methinks I imagine we are already surrounded with a world of Shepherds, who ask what we are: We must give them an account of ourselves, and declare the nicest particularities of our life to all we meet, though we know them not; for that hath been from the beginning the custom in amorous adventures. For my part, I know well enough what I have to say; but Anselm! hast thou bethought thyself? wilt thou speak of Geneura or Angelica? I'll do neither, replies Anselm: I'll speak nothing but feigned things. I'll make them belive I am some Prince of Transilvania, and that I have already set out my Romance. It will not be amiss to lie a little, replies Lysis: but I'll give thee an incomparable shift, which I should make use of myself, were it not that I desire nothing but to possess Charite, and that there is no ambition can oblige me to leave the Country. And it is this; Thou must not give any certain hints of thy race, take heed of that: Make as if rather that thou knowest not who were thy father and mother; and that some Shepherd finding thee as a sheep was suckling thee, took thee up and maintained thee ever since. By this means it may happen, that if some great Prince hath lost a child, he'll believe thou art he; and so redeeming thee out of obscurity, thou wilt be advanced to royalties. Who can tell, says Anselm, whether there be any Prince at present that hath lost a son? and if there were any, do you suppose he would acknowledge me for his? Woe is me! what a small experience art thou master of! replies Lysis: I will give thee an infallible argument for what I say. Hast thou ever observed in History, that any of those that have been so exposed to the world in their cradles, hath not met with some great Lord who hath been glad to be called his Father? Why may not thy fortune be as good as any of theirs?  
While Lysis was in these proposals, Anselm gave him a very sober audience, as if he had made it his design to make his advantage of what he said; but bethinking himself, that they were now in the midst of Brie, and that he already saw the little River of Morin, he cries out with great cheerfulness, O Shepherd! now we are come to the place where we desire to be; Behold, there is the pleasant River of Lignon. Lysis putting his head out of the Coach, There it is indeed, says he, it is just such as the books represent it to us. I see already the Bridge of Bouteresse, over which we are to pass. But where is the Palace of Isoura? where is Mont-Brison, Feurs, and Verdun? Montenor then showed him certain Steeples thereabout, and made him believe they were the places he asked for. While they were thus engaged, another extravagancy coming into the mind of Lysis, he cried out, O what an inconsiderate man am I! shall I enter into this Country with my City clothes on? What did I think on this morning, that I did not put on my Shepherd's habit? I must put off my clothes presently. Stay a little, says Montenor, we have but a league to my house, we shall not meet any body till we come thither. Lysis not regarding this Remonstrance, made the Coachman stay, and sent a Lackey after a Mule of Anselme's, which always went before with the luggage. There must needs be had the Portmantle, wherein the Shepherd's habit was, and being gotten under a Walnut tree, he put off the suit he had on, and put on the other.  
When he had done, he returnrd to the Coach, which drove on as before, and was to pass over the Bridge, which he called the Bridge of Bouteresse. Ah! dear waves, says Lysis, speaking to the River, I believe you have no other source than the tears of Lovers; but if you can now bear but small wherries, you shall hence forward be able to carry ships, so much shall I swell you up with my tears.  
While he spoke this he wept, but it was for joy; and being revished to see himself in so brave a Country, says he to those with him, we must not delay any longer to salute it; and having caused the Coach to be stayed again, and the boot taken down, he enjoined every one to kiss the earth, as he did. I salute thee dear Country, where Love hath his Empire, said he, with his hat in his hand, receive me for one of thy inhabitants, and I promise to render thee more famous than thou hast ever been.  
Every one being gotten into the Coach again, after this Cermony, says he to Montenor and Anselm, Methinks your names are not fit for Shepherds; will you not change them? You are to know, that when a man turns Shepherd, he observes the same custom, as when he turns Monk, he must ever change his name, ye must at least disguise yours. By no means replies Monteonr; for we have each of us an old Aunt, that hath no children, she will not acknowledge us for her heirs, if we should quit the name of our family. Well, we will excuse that, replies Lysis; but you are both clad in grey Spanish cloth, will you submit to no change as to clothes? But to say truth, this habit is Pastoral enough in my judgement; keep it, I am very well pleased with it; if mine were yet to make, I would have such another. Grace is ever good for the Country; and I will tell you how some distinguish the three Estates of France: They say there are Red, Black and Grace; by the Red, is meant a Gentleman; by the Black, a Citizen; and by the Grey, a Countryman. Now I have heard a very excellent discourse on this occasion; which is, That if the Gentry of France commonly go in Scarlet, they do it to the end, that if they were hurt, they might not see their own blood run down their clothes, and be thence disheartened; and that their adversaries not observing it neither, might not think to take any advantage thereby. As for Scholars and Lawyers, that they are in black is, because their principal employment is to write, and because they will not wear a colour, which might receive any injury from ink. And if the Peasantry wear grey, 'tis that being always in the dust, it might not be so apparent.  
Anselm and Montenor did much admire these excellent observations; and Lysis reassuming the discourse, discovered much disatisfaction that he was not clothed as they were, and among other things, spoke these words, I doubt not but my clothes are enough after the Pastoral mode: but the stuff likes me not, because it smells somewhat of the Air of Paris. It was good enough at St. Cloud, which is but eight or nine miles distant from Pomp, I do not say that of the New-bridge, I mean that of clothes. How I hate the sumptuousness of that proud City! The Porters go there in their silks, and I fear me the excess will shortly come to that height, that your Cobblers will have their Aprons of perfumed Leather, the Carmen carts of Ebony, and the Water-bearers will have their yokes embroidered, and have chains of gold instead of leather straps. Lysis having said this, was persuaded he should not hate his own clothes, seeing they were made, and that all his actions were guided by a good Genius, who had not counselled him to wear it, if he had not thought it convenient; so that he was not now troubled at any thing, but that it came into his mind, that he had forgotten to bring his Gitarhe from Paris. Having acquainted Montenor with it, he bid him not trouble himself; and told him, he would furnish him with a very good one at his house. That's very well, says Lysis, now I shall not be useless here, no more than others: All Shepherds should play on some instrument, for to recreate themselves in their solitude. But stay, what an important thing have I forgotten besides! Ah! my dear Sheephook where are you? I have left you at Anselme's house. That's no great matter, says Montenor, I promise to furnish you with one worthy the hand of fair Paris. Lysis assured of that, made no further complaint, but fell to observe the fields on both sides with much content. A Little after, they came to a plain Countryhouse, which was Montenors', where they alighted; and not long after, Supper was brought in. Lysis, who dreamt not while he was eating, that the night came on, would needs walk out after Supper, but Montenor calling for a candle, told him, it was bedtime, and that some rest were necessary after the weariness of the journey, and that the next day there would be leisure enough to see the Country. The Shepherd would not believe him, and notwithstanding all the persuasions they used, to detain him, he went out of the house, having not the patience to expect day, that he might the better observe the Mountains, the Rocks, the Springs, and the Woods. He crossed the fields up and down, without any heed at all, out of an imagination that he was in Forests; and though he could not see his hands before him, yet he conceived he took notice of the places. Here, says he, hath Celadon many times entertained Astraea, and Lycidas, Phillis; there's the wood where was the false Druid, and I think I am not far from the house of Adamas: While he said so, he came near an old decayed house, whence there issues a great Dog, that came and barked very earnestly after him. He bethought himself, that if he could catch him, he would be very fit to keep his sheep, when he should have any; so he made towards the Dog, thinking by this fine Compliment, to make him quiet. Melampus, poor Cur! come to me, I will be so good a Master to thee, that thou wilt not desire to change thy form into humane, such an easy service wilt thou have under me. Notwithstanding all this cajolling, the Dog barked still; and Lysis, who was somewhat a Coward, runs away, and having got two or three stones, cast them at him. The Dog ran after him, and bit him in the legs, so that he made him make yet more haste to be gone. When he saw himself out of danger, he rested himself a while to take his breath; which when he had done, fearing some worse mischance, he resolved to return to Montenors'; but he was above an hour ere he found his way, and 'twas by chance he found it at all. He forgot not to relate the misfortune had happened to him, and he complained much of the great discourtesy of the Dogs of Forests. Anselm having somewhat comforted him, he went to bed where they had appointed him.  
The next morning, all the house being up, he admired the weather was so fair, and said, that he thought it was not the same Sun in that Country, as in the Isle of France; so much did he think it more resplendent, but he attributed that to the presence of his Shepherdess. After dinner, there happened an opportunity to see her; for Anselm had designed to wait on Angelica. Montenor gave order for the sadling of three horses, and so went into the Court with Anselm and the Shepherd. What do you intent to do? says Lysis; for my part, I will not ride, it is not the custom of Shepherds: Go you thither if you will, and I will take my own time to follow you; for I will not do a thing that none of my Predecessors ever did; I'll rather not see Charity at all: I know she would laugh at me, if I should. Before I become a Cavalier, I'll stay here for good and all, I tell you plainly. Montenor, give me your Gytar to employ myself▪ And now I think on't, where's the Sheephook you promised me? methinks I have not any presence at all, if I have not one.  
Montenor desirous to satisfy him, carried him into a Cabinet; where he showed him his Gytar, and afterward gave him a very handsome Sheephook, that had sometimes been a Shepherds of his own. That done, he persuaded Lysis to get a horseback: but he would by no means do it, saying it was not handsome to be on horseback with a Sheephook in ones hand. So that Anselm, to determine all these contests, was fain to cause the horses to be put into the coach; whereupon they got in all three, and were brought to Oronte's castle. Leonora and Angelica were very glad to see him in that Country, where they had not much company; and were very inquisitive to know what had happened to the Shepherd, since they had seen him.  
While Anselm and Montenor were treating the Ladies, Lysis asked one of the Lacquays where Charite was? He answered him, that he knew her not: So that the Shepherd began to be angry. In the mean while the Kitchenmaid came in; and knowing well enough what he meant, told him that his Mistress was in the Wardrobe. He went and courted her with that reverence he thought became him: And the Fair one, who was not any thing proud, returned his civility, and prayed him to sit down. He was somewhat loath to do it, saying he should ever be on his knees before her: But at length, because he would not contradict her, he took a chair and sat down. As it is the first talk of those who have no other thing to say, to speak of the weather; Charite says to him, that she found it very hot. I am very glad, says Lysis to her, that you begin to feel the heat which you make others suffer: I would the Gods were pleased that you also knew how much you have hurt me! Who? ay! says Charite: It must then be when we played at St. Clou with the Kitchenmaid. But what hurt have I done you? Have I scratched you, or pricked you with some loose pin, or have I trod on your foot? You are in the right on't, wretch that I am! replies Lysis: The nails of your allurements have scratched my mind; the points of your features have pricked me; and the foot of your disdain hath trod on that of my perseverance: but above all, you have struck me to the heart. You should be dead if it were so, replies Charite. But with what have I struck you? With the miracles of your Beauty, says Lysis. Do not tell me so, replies Charite: how should I be beautiful? I am blacker than the Crook in the chimney. If you are a Crook, replies Lysis, (who thought himself obliged to be pleasant upon every thing a Mistress said) it is such a one as aught only to be used in the chimneys of the Gods, where there is no fire made but that of Love. Thrice happy, nay four times should I be, if I could be metamorphosed into some celestial Kettle, that I might be hanged upon it; for I would not upon any acount be separated from you. You are pleased to say so, replies Charite. If I am pleased to say so, replies Lysis, it is because I am pleased to speak the truth; and it is well known that a miserable Shepherd as I am cannot be well without you. Your disdains are your commendation, says Charite. I do not submit myself without reason, says Lysis: yet do but measure me according to the greatness of my affection, and not by the smallness of my desert, and though I am a Shepherd, scorn me not, seeing the fair Cytherea hath affected Ad●nis and Anchises, who were come so far short of my quality, that they were but underling.  
Charite, who understood nothing of all this, thought the entertainment somewhat importunate; and Angelica obliged her very much, by calling her away about some business. Thereupon Lysis came back to Leonora, who told him that she was not well pleased that he had forsaken her company. Having made his excuses, he came to speak to her of the resolution she had taken to retire into the Country; and thence took occasion, by a word of excellent discourse, to commend and magnify unto her the delight of a Pastoral life: And at last says to Montenor and Anselm, You see that my Lady here approves of what I say; and that it will be to your eternal renown, that you after my example have forsaken the residence of Cities: You have begun well; but he does nothing, that finishes not. Are you not resolved that we buy each of us his Flock, and go keep them in the fields? There is no need of that, says Anselm: I know there have been Courtiers have clad themselves as Shepherds, yet never were masters of any sheep: If they had been asked where their Flocks were, they said they had left it somewhere afar off in the custody of the dogs. I do not believe that, says Lysis; show it me written. Anselm by good fortune light, on a side-table, on Diana of Montemajor: where after he had turned over a good many leaves, he showed him that Delicio and Parthenio had put on Shepherd's weeds, without ever having any sheep: And besides all that, he caused him to call to mind, that in Astraea there were many Knights had done the like. Yet was he not convinced; and his reason was, that such people were but half-Shepherds, and that a man should aspire to perfection; and that to avoid idleness, 'twere good to have the care and conduct of a Flock.  
Montenor told them, that the difference was not so easily decided; and that his advice was, to have it referred to the arbitration of a Gentleman, a friend of his, who was very expert in those cases. Lysis ask him what his name was, Montenor answered, it was Clarimond, the Author of The Banquet of the Gods; and that it were fit they went to him about it. Whereupon they took leave of Leonora and her daughter, and of Orontes and Florida, who came in somewhat late, and were much amazed at the discourses of Lysis. Being gotten into the Coach, they drew towards Clarimond's house, which was but a league off: And the Shepherd could not to his mind express the content it was to him to go visit a person whom he imagined of so extraordinary merit.  
Clarimond had a Castle, which being moted about was very handsome and gentile: But Lysis, when he saw it, thought it better than it was; he called the Architraves Pillars, and the Cornishes Millstones unpolished, wherewith he said it was built. When they were come into the Court, an ancient Gentlewoman, who was Clarimond's Mother, came out to receive them, and led them into the Hall, where they were to stay for her son; who was gone abroad with his Piece, and was presently to return. She had a glass of good fresh wine in the house; and conceiving those who were come to see him might be thirsty, she called for some, and caused to be brought in certain Sweetmeats. Anselm and Montenor drank; but when it came to the Shepherd, he refused. Clementia (that was the Gentlewoman's name) desiring Lysis might drink, went and took the glass out of the Maid's hand, and presented him with it herself. I will not by any means, says he: You are deceived in me, sage Felicia! I would rather swallow poison, then take your draught of oblivion. And with those words he runs out into the Court, to the great astonishment of all that were present. They followed him thither to see what he would say; and thereupon comes in Clarimond, who embraced his friend Montenor, and bid much welcome to the other two.  
Clementia was extremely troubled that Lysis would not drink out of her hand; and she thought it was out of some fear he had that she might poison him. But her Son having brought them all back again into the Hall, and seated them, Anselm waved the discourse, and fell to compliment with Clarimond, telling him he should be very glad of his acquaintance, his Works having made such a good impression in him of his worth. Whereupon Montenor came, and spoke of THE BANQUET OF THE GOD'S, which he had divers times read with great attention. And Clarimond fearing that Piece might not give so general satisfaction, whatever might be said of it, spoke to this purpose.  
I Have observed in the ancient Poetry so many absurdities, which strike at all judgement, that I could not possibly suffer them. Besides, were they not contradictory, somewhat might be built on them. But there is a perpetual wand'ring in their obscurities, and I know not how it came to pass, that the Greeks did not banish those who presented them with such Fables for Divinity. All I make the Gods do in their Banquet, is irrisory and ridiculous; and yet you will find, if you look narrowly, that I make them not guilty of any action, which may not be deduced out of what others have said of them. But if the ancient Poets were blameless, how much more are the modern, who are not blinded with Paganism, and yet cannot abstain mentioning the feigned Deities, that were adored of old? I shall one day more particularly charge the latter, and show them their folly. These are they that furnish us with Love-stories; nothing can reconcile me to silence, as to this kind of writing. All those that put themselves in this employment, advance such things as are clearly incompatible with probability.  
Lysis would give no long attention to this Discourse, without replying, O how art thou guilty of the blindeness which thou reproachest others with! says he to Clarimond. What! when thou findest some incomparable things in a Book, thou believest them not! If thou art not able thyself to honour a Mistress with miraculous testimonies of fidelity, doth it thence follow there is no Lover that is? Take notice, that when my History is written, it will be taken for a Fable, as are the adventures which are found in the Poets, in whom thou hast no faith at all.  
Clarimond was much surprised at this sally; and Anselm desirous to discover unto him the humour of the Shepherd, spoke to Lysis in these words, Be not offended with Clarimond, you know wherein you may have need of him. Imagine that all he hath spoken, hath been by way of Paradox; he would show his wit by speaking against the truth: But let us enter into some other discourse. Tell me why you would not take the wine out of the Gentlewoman's hand? 'Twas because I thought myself in the Palace of the sage Felicia, replies Lysis: she gave a drink to Sirenus, to make him forget Diana; but whatever rigour Charite may exercise over me, I will ever adore her. Ah! unfaithful Sirenus! was it possible thou couldst say those words which are written, and so finely couched in Montenor? It may come to pass, ingrateful Shepherdess, that thou shalt seek me, when I shall hide myself from thee. O Jupiter! where are thy Thunderbolts? why are they not hurled at the guilty head of this Shepherd? Anselm taking him aside, bid him take heed what he said; and that he was now in Forests, and not in the Country of Sirenus; and that besides, he much wronged Clementia, to take her for a Sorceress.  
In the mean time Clarimond much astonished at the Extravagancies of Lysis, was acquainted by Montenor of what madness he was possessed. I have now found what I have a long time sought after, says Clarimond: I vow to you, I have used all the endeavours I could to infuse Romantic Imaginations into a Person I know, but he is now fallen into a silent Madness: I believe your Shepherd is of a more Frolic humour. Besides, it is not amiss to encourage such people in their Imaginations; for by that means you raise their minds to the highest pleasures. And thence comes that ordinary Saying, That to be happy in the world, a man should be either KING or FOOL; because if the one have the greatest real Pleasures; the other hath the greatest Imaginary. He therefore that cannot be KING, let him endeavour to become a FOOL.  
This Discourse ended, Clarimond entreated the Company to stay Supper with him; But Montenor told him, their coming to him was with the design to carry him to Supper elsewhere; and his entreaties were so powerful, that they made him leave his Mother. Lysis having spoken by the way, how his Companions refused to keep a flock: Clarimond said, That they most be suffered to live after what mode they pleased: but that as for his part, he would not be so disdainful, but was content to become a perfect Shepherd. Lysis commended him for his good intention; and told him, that if he would Embark himself with him upon the Amorous Main, he should never suffer Shipwreck, and that he was a good Pilot in that Navigation: but that he must resolve to imitate him in all things, if he desired to live happy.  
The End of the Third Book.   

THE Anti-Romance; OR, THE HISTORY Of the SHEPHERD LYSIS.  
The Fourth Book.  
LYSIS being at Table at Montenor's with the rest, there was presented to him some Toad-stools, excellently well dressed They importuned him to eat of them: but he having taken two spoonfuls on his trencher, eat seven, and returned the rest into the dish. This is not without ceremony, says the Shepherd: I will be as mysterious as the Priests in the Temples, who do all things in a certain order, and observe a method in those things which most delight their Divinities. The number of four is dedicated to the Sun; that of two, to the Moon; and that of three, to Venus. So will I order it, that Seven be dedicated to the Goddess Charite: because there are seven letters in her Name, I have eaten seven Toadstools, seven pieces of fried meat, seven pieces of bread, and I will drink seven glasses of wine, though I should burst. In good faith, a very excellent Philosophy! say Clarimond: I will be of your sect, Shepherd! but the Mistress I shall choose must have at least nineteen letters in her name, that when I shall be at some great feast, I may freely importune all to present me with good bits to such a number, lest I should commit a sin against the Divinity I am to adore. This must not be an argument for Gluttony or Profaneness, replies Lysis: And besides thou considerest not that he that would imitate me, as thou dost undertake to do, must as well expect pains as pleasures, according to the Number dedicated to his Goddess. I sometimes walk seven times about the Garden in honour of Charite, out of a desire I have that even my walking may be to her glory: I read one Book seven times; I behold myself seven times in the glass; if I find it hot, I unbutton seven buttons of my coat; and before I go to bed, I make seven reverences before my Mistress' picture. But if I am constrained to do somewhat wherein I have neglected to keep account, as to pitch the bar four times, I return to it again myself and make up the number of seven. And if somebody gave you four cuffs on the ear, replies Clarimond, would you not be willing to receive three more to make up your fortunate number? If it be so, you shall have the blows and all the other misfortunes; and for my part, when it comes to matter of eating, I shall be he will eat by number. But in the first place, free my mind of a difficulty: If of all things that are before me there be but five in every dish, and that there be six letters in my Shepherdess' name, must I eat nothing at all, out of a fear to violate your fine mysterious Arithmetic? This question is full of subtlety, answers Lysis; learn then, that not to be wanting to thy duty, thou must take but three pieces, and cut each of them in two, or else take but one and divide it into six. But take notice that this is no handsome number, and there is none like that of seven, which is attributed to Charite: There are seven Planets, the seven Stars, seven Ages of man, seven Days in the week; and I could make other observations besides, to make it appear that by a happy fatality it comes to pass, that the fairest of all the Shepherdesses hath seven letters in her name. But for the present I shall say no more of it, seeing Clarimond makes matter of abuse of such serious things. He hath reason for what he doth, as I have too, replies Anselm, were it for nothing else but that you are extremely mistaken in the number of the letters of your Mistress' name, for there must be more than seven; for she was never called Charite. There you are deceived yourself, says Lysis, Love himself hath named her so; and if she have any other name, it is only given her by the vulgar that know not how they ought to speak.  
Charimond hearing this, began openly to abuse Lysis' Arithmetic: But perceiving he might give him occasion to be angry, he abated to a fair compliance with him. The Shepherd avowed he was of a very pleasant humour; and that he preferred a frolic and free disposition, such as his was, before another man's who said nothing, yet did not think the less for it. Thereupon Anselm asked Lysis in what posture his Loves were, and whether he thought himself in the favour of his Charite. He answered, he was not far from it, and that it was the matter and reason of his cheerfulness. But Anselm returns to him in this manner: You consider not what you say, Shepherd! For if your Mistress love you already, and is ready to grant you what you shall demand, you will not have any brave occasions to make appear your fidelity. This should be your affliction; and it should be your desire that she were cruel to you, that so there might happen to you some remarkable adventures. Your reason is very specious, says Lysis; but I fear me there may be some want of truth in it: Welcome is better than disdain, whatever may be said to the contrary. But you see that Astraea hath disdained Celadon, after she had once loved him, says Anselm; Do you hope to be better dealt with? What will you advise me to do then? says Lysis. There is no doubt, replies Anselm, but that you should cast yourself, as he did, into the River of Lignon, at the least harsh word you shall receive from Charite. Let there be then three Nymphs on the shore ready to take me out of the water, replied Lysis; for what can I tell whether they'll be there, if notice be not given them beforehand? I might be drowned in the mean time, for I cannot swim. It was out of a full intention to be drowned, that Geladon cast himself into the water, says Anselm: Do you the like, and you shall be looked after: Faithful Lovers never miss relief; you see Damon was saved, and taken out of a River. I will not trust to that, says Lysis: Let me have two Hogs-bladders under my arms, and I will confidently cast myself into Lignon. That's very wisely spoken, says Clarimond: but for my part, who am yet but an Apprentice in Love, I will not presume to cast myself into the water; I must leave that honour to my Master who is more knowing than I; I will not plunge myself but in wine: And now I think on't according to the Poets, it is only proper to the Sun to cast himself into the water: yet in the time of Vintage, they say, he doth not lie down in the Sea, but gets into one of the Fats of Bacchus' Wine-press, where he treads the Grapes, and that's the reason he looks so red sometimes when he rises. That's an excellent imagination; well said Shepherd, says Lysis, thou art worthy to be my Comrade.  
Upon this Supper was ended, but so, that Lysis failed not to perfect the number of seven, both in the fruits, and in drinking. That he was not drunk was, because he drunk but small Glasses. The cloth being taken away, he went to the place where the Gitarhe was, which Montenor had given him, and never considering whether it were in tune or no, he returns playing a Saraband. O God, cries out Clarimond, what do we hear? Hath Apollo committed some new fault, that hath caused Jupiter to banish him out of heaven? Comes he once more hither among the Shepherds? Is it not the sweet sound of his harp that tickles our ears? Lysis stayed a good while, playing in the next Chamber to Montenors'; being very proud they took him for the God of Music, and thinking no less than that he might easily deceive others. Clarimond continued still to speak, and said, Oh! I am ravished I am enchanted! O what Melody is this? I swoon! some vinegar here quickly to comfort my heart. Montenor and Anselm made the like exclamations; but at length Lysis appears to them laughing, and they gave him a thousand praises for knowing so well how to charm men's minds by his harmony. Why have I not now some excellent Air? says he: There is no other way but to compose one, that shall draw after me the most insensible things. 'tis fit I should presently make some verses. I shall be much more fortunate, having this instrument in my hand; for with the sound of a Lute or Gittarhe the wand'ring Muses are recollected, as the Bees are at the noise of a Kettle. Clarimond, I must have thy assistance to compose a Song, that I may the sooner have done. I suppose thou hast a good faculty in making of Verses, thou art such an ingenuity, that art of all Professions. I do not meddle with Poetry, replies Clarimond; and if you desire to know how much I have sometime belaboured myself about it, and for what reason I have quitted that exercise, hear the last Verses I made: I'll repeat them to you.  

Adieu to POETRY.  

Cvrsed Poetry! a vain and useless Trade,  
Idol of th' Court, Business of Idleness!  
Some other to thy Drudgery persuade,  
Since thouart but Frenzy in thy gravest Dress.   

All thou canst promise is but Dream and Wind,  
To cheat poor vaporous and unquiet Brains,  
Which being to the Goal of Love confined,  
A double fury their pure Reason stains.   

Yet though thou Rackest us with inventive Cares,  
To find new thoughts, and limb them out in Verse:  
Who'll not confess that thou our minds ensnares,  
But Oh! 'tis hard t' avoid thy Charming force:  
Since I wh' attaque thee as mine Enemy.  
Fight but with weapons given me by thee.    
Clarimond having repeated this Sonnet, which was much commended by the Company; said, he had made it the best he could, that it might not be said, if it were seen, that he had done well to quit Poetry, because he understood not much of it. But seeing thou confessest thyself, that the charms of Poetry are powerful, says the Shepherd to him, Why canst not thou dispense with them in the business of Love, seeing Poetry and Music are the two Chambermaids of Venus? Be not too sure of that, answers Clarimond; for if in the very dispraise of Verses, I have made other Verses, 'tis because that being to speak to Poetry, I would pay her in her own coin, and speak in her own Language. I'll tell thee one thing, replies Lysis, seeing thou art resolved not to make any more Verses thyself, thou shalt only teach me the Rhimes; for I do not know them all; and withal, I must tie thee not to have any thing further to do with my work, lest thou become so insolent, as to pretend to the credit of it.  
This being agreed on, Clarimond bid Lysis beware he made not such impertinent Verses as no man would regard; and not do as a certain Court-Poets did, who made Verses for a Mask, which were so poor, that they were never read after that night, but were forgotten the next day; so it was laid by way of abuse, that he had not give his works to the light, but to the dark. Fear not that misfortune, says Lysis to him, though I should make Verses for a Serenade, they should not want day if they were but presented to Charite: But what do I say, that they shall not want day, will they not bestow day on this age, they shall be so excellent? If thou whom I have designed to write my History, wilt dedicate thy book to Charite, as thou must needs do, assure thyself it will be truly put to light, seeing the light of her eyes shall enlighten it. Thou knewst not before, that the heavens had reserved thee for this dignity; know it now, and discharge thyself faithfully. Forsake me not; and take notice of all I shall say: I was once minded, that my History should have been printed at Paris, but it shall not; I will not have Mercenary Mechanics employed about it, there are Nymphs will take the charge on them here in some Cave, they shall have Characters of silver, and shall not use so much ink as gold and azure. Happy will the paper be, whereon shall be imprinted my famous adventures! Happy the hands shall be employed about it! happy they who shall read such noble things! but much more happy the Shepherd Lysis that shall have performed them, and thou Clarimond that shall have described them!  
After this gallant discourse, Clarimond seeing he was content his History should be in Prose, promised him to do it, though he had no great forwardness to put himself to the pains. There was a bed made ready for him in the same Chamber where Lysis was already a-bed. The Shepherd would not suffer him to take any rest at all; one while he asked him for an Epithet, another while for a Rhyme: Clarimond, who was as merry a Lad as any in France, told him always the oddest words he could think on, purposely to put him out. At break of day, as he began to fall asleep, Lysis rises, and awakens him by his running up and down the Chamber, and crying out, I have found it, I have it, it is the best humour of a Song that ever was. I know what measure the Stanza's shall be of, and it shall be set to a better air than ever Guedron was author of. Is there then no possibility of sleeping with you? says Clarimond, you have interrupted me in as fine a dream, as ever I dreamed And what didst thou dream of? tell me, says Lysis. I dreamed that you were an Ass, replies Clarimond, and that Charite was another, and that you were put into a Cart for to draw it. This is Emblematical, replies Lysis: if the God Morpheus hath represented to thee that I was an Ass, 'tis to signify the Travels I undergo with patience. That might very well be, says Clarimond: but you are not a Goddess, like that of Apuleius: and if Apuleius under the likeness of an Ass meant a man, you who have a contrary destiny, carry an Ass in the likeness of a man. Whether it be so or no, says Lysis, it matters not: but if thou hast seen Charite like a she Ass, it is to denote, she hath good ears, and that she very well hears my sighs. And if we were drawing a cart: O happy presage! 'tis to show we shall be both subject to the same yoke. But it is to be known, what will be the consequence of it: I pray thee friend make an end of thy dream. I may sleep again, says Clarimond; but do you think I can fasten on the same dream as I please myself? See whether you can do it yourself, and so accomplish what I have begun. Alas! I cannot, replies Lysis: I must wake for to speak to the Muses, who are not so liberal of their entertainments when 'tis once hig-day, because they are ashamed to be seen speaking with men. Certainly their chastity is remarkable, not to come to men but in the night I replies Clarimond. Do not jeer, says Lysis, what I say is true: But there is another thing hinders one from sleeping; Love doth ever stand Sentinel on my bolster with his bow in hand, lest Sleep might enter into mine eyes: Before I can be overcome, that Sentinel must be knocked down. Clarimond returned nothing to this, because he would have a little rest: And Lysis believing he would dream again, made no noise at all lest he should awake him; by which means he had the opportunity to sleep a good while after.  
When he awoke, he found Lysis quite dressed, very busy about his Verses. He had already dedashed away above ten sheets of paper, writing down a Stanza, and then blotting it out to put another in stead, and then dashing out that to put down the former. He had spoiled at least six Pens, by biting them at the ends; and I believe all the Stationer's shops in the Country could not have furnished him, had he been to compose some heroic Poem. His nails were already gnawn to the very stumps; and he put himself into such a diversity of postures in his imaginations, that he was quite wearied out. Clarimond pitied him, observing that when he could not light on the end of a Verse to his mind, 'twas such a vexation to him, that he made more wry faces than a Cat that had swallowed mustard. Whereupon he rise presently; and having seen in what forwardness his work was, he reformed what was amiss, and gave him directions for to accomplish the whole piece. Lysis however promised himself all the credit, though he had been willing to be assisted; for he was resolved to lie with confidence. Clarimond did not much regard it: And Montenor and Anselm being come to visit him, he told them himself that the Shepherd had made an admirable Copy of Verses. Whereupon Lysis being entreated to show them, began to read them in a magnificent tone. They were these:  

The Complaint of LYSIS.  

NOw am I neither flesh nor bone,  
But wholly rarified to fire;  
The Body cannot now be known,  
Where my lost Spirit doth retire.  
All that is left me's Voice, and that to cry,  
O Charite, Charite,  
Charite! if Lysis for your Beauty die,  
By that Beauty quicken me.   

If by a Peasant I am crossed  
I'th' way, he startles and's afeared  
That I am some unhappy ghost  
Not yet by perfect penance cleared,  
And would with spells force me from hence to fly.  
O Charite, Charite,  
Charite! if Lysis for your beauty die,  
By that beauty quicken me.   

All th'evils under which I groan  
For my adored object, Thee,  
Leave but this word to make my moan,  
Charite, Charite, Charite!  
All that is left me's Voice; and that to cry,  
O Charite, Charite,  
Charite! if Lysis for thy beauty die,  
By that beauty quicken me.   

While thus a Lover sung and told  
His cruel martyrdom and pain,  
The sympathising Echo rolled  
All these loud accents back again.  
So that no noise to''th' neighbouring rocks could fly,  
But Charite, Charite,  
Charite! if Lysis for your beauty die,  
By that beauty quicken me.    
Montenor said he was somewhat in doubt whether the so often repeating the word Charite was not a fault. But he was answered, that it was very elegant; and that he that did not acknowledge it, was no good Judge. To which Lysis added, that that a name was the fairest ornament of his Verses; and that he thought one time to make Stanza wherein there should be nothing else. As for Anselm, he admired the conclusion, which indeed was not to be found fault with, for there seemed to be a many Echoes repeating the complaints of a Lover. But the Shepherd was wise enough not to discover that the design came from Clarimond. That which was conceived most censurable, was, that the Shepherd had no cause to make any such complaint. To which he answered, that never any Lover, such as he, could be without affliction; and if he feigned himself dead, 'twas only to move Charite to succour him. Do you not see that all things have compassion on me? says he: Nature herself believes not I am alive; the Heaven is to day all dark, it is because it mourns for my departure. Not to dissemble, there is no such matter, says Clarimond: But you Gentlemen of the Tribe of Poets never denominate your Mistress' kind and favourable, or cruel and rigorous, but according as one of these words is necessary to make up the cadence or rhyme of your Verses: And when your thoughts are taken up about some favour done, that they might hit right, it's a small matter with you to call the Ladies ungrateful. So that it may be said, they are whatever you are pleased they should be.  
The amorous Shepherd returned nothing to this railing, for he heeded it not, his mind being taking up to consider of an air for his Song. He at last made up one with the beginning and end of two other airs which he knew before, and yet he conceived there was nothing of all this which came not from himself. When he had sung it, all confessed it was admirable; and because it was pretty late, they went to dinner. Clarimond a while after, went his ways, saying, that some domestic affairs called him away, and that his good mother would conclude him lost, if he did not return in some time. Lysis remembering himself, that he had not yet seen the Shepherds of Forests, because his Loves had still diverted him, entreated Montenor to bring him acquainted with them. They are no less than two leagues off this place, replies Montenor, I am not now at leisure to go so far: If you will not go along with me, replies Lysis, I'll leave you presently and go my ways: how will you have me spend my time here? study your Song, says Montenor, that so you may not be surprised in any thing you do. There indeed you are in the right replies Lysis, that's a thing of no small consequence.  
Having so said, he went and locked himself into his chamber, being all alone with his Gitarrhe, and would do nothing the remainder of that day, but learn the air of his Song. In the mean time Montenor and Anselm went a hunting: when they were returned, he came to Supper with them, which being done, he entreated Anselm to lend him one of his Lacquays to go with him as far as Charite's house. Anselm having given him permission to take which he would of them, he would not take Gringalet, because he began to discover he was too much a Wag: He chose Champagne his fellow Lackey, who was a great Lad, and one whom he thought tractable enough: so having taken leave of the company, he took him along, not forgetting his Gitarhe; for his design was in good earnest to give his Mistress a Serenade. Anselm and Montenor would not take the pains to follow him, nor indeed was it his desire they should, as having no need of so many witnesses. The way seemed not to him either long or tedious: so soon did he recover Oronte's house, where having put his Gitarhe in tune, he began to play, and withal sung his air. His music was so good, that Champagne, who might well be ranked among the duller sort of people, was not much taken with it. There was such a consort between his voice and his instrument, as made a music as delightful as the braying of an Ass would do, with the noise of the wheel of a mill. But the best sport was, that for to feign a Syncope, he descended by degrees, that at last he sung so low, that he could not be heard. The air being finished, he played certain Sarabands, with which his sighs bear a part, and at every shake he fetched one from the bottom of his breast. Notwithstanding all this, he was so far unfortunate, that his Mistress heard no more of this Serenade, than she had done of that at St. Cloud; and there were only certain dogs, who by their noise discovered their attention to this music As for his own part, he was not so taken up in what he did himself, but that he heard the touch of a Late the other side of Orontes' house. Follow me Champagne, says he to the Lackey, here is some signal adventure presents itself. When he had so said, he drew nigh the place where they had heard the Lute; but then they heard it, as if it been farther off: and the more they came forward, the more did it seem to draw back. At length having passed through a many trees, they came into a field, where they saw some body going before them, but could not discern who it was. They followed it leisurely, till it entered a little wood, towards which Lysis ran as fast as he could: Ha! Champagne, says he, 'Tis an Hamadryad that we saw but now; it was come out of this Wood, to give my Mistress a Serenade as well as I. Now it is returned to its residence again: we must needs follow it, to give it thanks for this courtesy. Champagne said it was time to return home, that they should not spend their time so vainly; and that he might go into the Wood as far as he pleased, but that for his part, he was content to stay for him at the entrance. Lysis hearing that, flung himself immediately into a hedge, which though it were somewhat thick set, yet with much ado he made his way through. He heard the Lute still, so that running from one side to the other through the trees, he thought at length to find the Hamadryad; but when he could hear nothing at all, he began to cry out, Whither do you run away from me? fair Nymph, 'tis not for to do you any violence, that I am come hither: alas! my affections are engaged elsewhere. Wherefore do you hide yourself from me? come and bear a part in music with me: Are you already locked up within your bark? While he made those complaints, he had so travelled up and down the Wood, that Champagne could not hear him. He called him divers times, but seeing he answered not, and that it were a folly to look after him in the dark, he returned to Montenors', to whom he gave an account of his loss. He was much blamed by his Master, who made no pleasure of any misfortunes that happened to Lysis. Yet it was conceived it would be no hard matter to find him again, if there were but any search made for him the next morning. In the mean time, Lysis being as much troubled as possibly he could be, embraced all the trees he met with, and asked them tidings of the Nymph he had lost. After he had thus employed himself an hour or two, he came among a sort of thorns & briers, beyond which he perceived the fields. He thought to find Champagne there still, for the time had seemed so short to him that he imagined he had not been in the Wood above half a quarter of an hour. When he saw it was to no purpose to call, and that the other answered not, he despaired not to return alone; but he was so far from knowing the way, that he went far enough out of it, and for some two hours followed certain unknown paths. At length weariness forced him to cast himself into a Thicket, where he rested till day, When the Sun had darted on his eyes, and obliged him to open them, he breaks forth, and says, O how well have I passed this night, methinks, better to my mind then on a Feather bed! O how fine a thing it is to rise at a start, without having any occasion of a man to help me on with my clothes! O what a pleasant adventure have I gone through! and what a truly Romantic thing it is to lie on the hard ground.  
With the end of this discourse he went out of the thicket, and having his Gittarh still in his hand, he beset himself to play, to salute the new day, and conform himself to the birds, who were already warbling their notes. He went on still, till he came to a little Hamlet, where keeping still the same posture, he still scrubbed over certain tunes. There were five or six children at a door, who ran after him singing divers tunes, and pulled so much at his coat, that he was fain to stay, and play before them to buy his quiet, and appease them. There was one among them, went and told his mother, that he had heard music; so that she thinking it had been some poor Lad, that went from house to house to play before children, carried him a piece of bread and cheese. He was so hungry, that he could not refuse what was presented, and having eaten it up, he drank at a little fountain in his way.  
Thence he thought it was his best course to go seek out the Shepherds of Forests then to return to Montenors', seeing he would not bring him to them. Now there was very little pasture-grounds in that quarter; he met not so much as with any Shepherds of the Country; and for what other people came in his way, they were only Carters, whom he vouchsafed not to trouble himself with, though they looked upon him with admiration. When he saw any little hill, he was impatient till he came to the top, to see what was beyond it; and if a thicket came in his way, he must also go through that, to see what were behind. At last he meets a Hermit, who walked along a hedge side, saying his Breviary. He presently imagined him to be a Druid, and making a low reverence to him, Father, says he, do me the favour as to tell me whether I am yet very far from the pastures where Celadon and Astraea feed their flocks. The Hermit, who never had read any Romance, answers him, That he knew not those people he named. But tell me, whence come you with your rebeck? Let us look out for a place to sit down, says Lysis, and you shall have my history:  
Father (continues he, being sat on a hillock with the Hermit) the Isle of France is my Country. In these parts, Montenor is my entertainer, Anselm my friend, Charite my enemy. It is true, there is some sweetness in her enmity, and I was in hope the last night to have charmed her with the sweet sound of my Gitarhe. You know that the nights are so quiet, that there is nothing heard but the winds, and the noise of the springs, nor had I any thought to violate their their ordinary silence; for I have been the cause of no noise, but that of my sighs, and that of the fountain of my tears. I have lain on no other bed than that which nature afforded me: And Aurora, who is a very charitable Lady, seeing me this morning, had compassion on me; she wept very much, and 'tis not to be thought it was for the death of her son. The Hermit, who was not guilty of much study, apprehended nothing of this discourse; all he could pick out of it was, that he thought it well done to lie on the ground for to mortify the flesh. He was forced to say to Lysis, that above all things he was desirous to know what profession he was of. All my employment is to love, replies Lysis: if I write, if I make verses, if I walk, if I meditate, all is for to learn how to love well. You are a happy man, says the Hermit, if so be you love nothing but the Divinity: If you will serve that, stay with me and take the habit of Monk, we shall spend the rest of our days with much pleasure together: Nor indeed can I think otherwise then that you are a Vagabond, and that it were better you had some retreat. Lysis discovering by this that he had to do with an Hermit, said to him, Know, Father, that I have found the true tranquillity of life. 'Tis true, there are many which turn Monks, to withdraw from the vanities of the world: but I have chosen another condition wherein there is a like felicity: I am turned Shepherd not long since, do you not see I have taken the habit? To tell you no lie, when my friends saw me take it, they endeavoured as much to make me quit it again, as if they had seen me entered among the bare-leged Carmelites; but all their cries have been to no purpose. Whereupon the Hermit told him, that his best course were to follow his first inclination, if so be it were not ill: however, to show him where he spent his life, he led him to his Cell, which was very well accommodated. Lysis having drank some wine out of his begging-jack, desired him to show him the right way to Montenor's; because that meeting no body that could bring him to the Shepherds of Forests, he was resolved to go back thither. The Hermit told him it was above nine miles to the house he asked for, and that he should make haste if he had a mind to recover it before night. Thereupon Lysis took leave of the Hermit, assuring him that if he had not been a Shepherd he would have been a Hermit, and promising he would endeavour to see him again one time or other. He followed a great road that he had showed him; and as he went along he did nothing but meditate on this last adventure. He was somewhat sorry he had not stayed with the Hermit, because it came into his imagination that he understood Magic, and that he could have taught him many secrets.  
He had not gone five miles, but he came to the Wood where he had looked for the Hamadryad; but he knew not it was the same. It belonged to one called Hircan, who at the end of it had a house. This Gentleman was a great friend of Clarimond's: who returning from Montenor's house, had met him and acquainted him with the excellent humour of Lysis. He therefore having had notice that the Shepherd was to give Charite a Serenade, would needs give her one too, and was come to play on the Lute before Oronte's house at the same time.  
It began to grow dark when Lysis entered the Wood; so that not being able to see much, a certain fear seized his soul. Is not this Wood consecrated to some God said he in himself: Behold here is a place so desert, that no body comes into it, if he be not out of his way: Never any Shepherd nor Grazier entered it, and there was never heard the noise of an axe in it: I dare not so much as lean against these bushes, such is my fear they may lose some of their leaves, and that I commit so many murders.  
He advanced still with much respect, till he perceived Hircan, who was walking in an Alley with a wand in his hand. He presently believed he was a Magician that dwelled there; and making him a low congee, he says to him, I crave your pardon that I am come to disturb your solitude: Had you not desired I should have seen you, you might have employed your Art to hinder my entrance into this Wood: But I believe you are content I should come before you, seeing you have permitted it, and I hope you'll give me leave to address my vows to the Divinities which you adore.  
Hircan hearing this, knew presently he was the man that Clarimond had given him a character of; and being very glad of this rencontre, told him he might freely come on any place that belonged to him, even into his house, which was ever open to persons of merit.  
I am then to give my thanks to the Destiny that hath brought me hither, replies Lysis: A poor Lover, as I am, may receive much assistance from such a man as you; you know the properties of herbs and stones, and by your Magic you afford remedies to all that are afflicted. Hircan perceiving by this, that Lysis took him for an Enchanter, would continue him in that opinion, and answered him thus: You are not deceived, if you believe that nothing is impossible to my charms: When the Moon is eclipsed, it is I that have drawn her from heaven for to lie with me; and of the chastest of all the Goddesses I make my Concubine: I caused one morning such an Earthquake, that all the pots and kettles were overturned, and all manner of householdstuff was turned topsie-turvie: Sometimes I stay the Rivers, and hinder them to pay their tribute to the Sea: I root up the Trees of the Forest as easily as a Labourer plucks up the stalks of corn; and if I have some message to send any where, I command the Spirits as I do my Lacquays. You shall not be desired to do so great things for me, says Lysis; nor do I desire you should cause the Trees of my neighbour to remove into my ground, nor that you give the scab to the sheep of my Rival: All I desire to know, is, whether my Mistress loves me or no, and whether I shall one day receive the satisfaction of my wishes. Come, you shall sup with me, Shepherd! replies Hircan to him: We'll consider of those things hereafter.  
Having said so, he led him into his Castle; which was so well built, that the Shepherd imagined it had been the workmanship of the Spirits, as the Palace of Armida. So that he was fully satisfied that this was no counterfeit Magician, such as Clemantes was who deceived Galathea. Hircan was a very loose person, and had then with him a very handsome Gentlewoman that he entertained for his pleasure. He made Lysis believe she was a Nymph of the waters, that he had constrained by his charms to come and live in his Castle. When she had been told of the humour of the person, she would needs make some sport with him. Being at table only they three, she still cast on him such languishing and amorous looks, as if she had been deeply in love with him. Whenever he perceived it, he bowed down his head as a bashful Girl, and durst not look on her. After supper, Hircan left him with her, saying he would go into his Study to consult with the Spirits about his business. She talked with him about divers things; but chiefly she was inquisitive to know certain particularities of his Loves, which he reckoned up to her with much modesty. The Magician being returned, told him, that all he could discover was, that by perseverance he should overcome Charite: but that thenceforward he should find it a hard matter to come to her, because Leonora kept her very close. There is a remedy for that, says Lysis; I will disguise myself to go and see her: Cannot you by your art give me some other form then what I have, and so render me such as I may not be known? I will consider to night what face you shall take, replies Hircan: Set your heart at rest, and to to bed where I have appointed you.  
Lysis went his way cheerfully to bed full of great hopes; and the next morning the Conjurer coming to him caused him to put his head into a pail of water, while he mumbled certain barbarous words over him; which when he had done, he said to him, Assure yourself that you are now like a handsome Country-wench: You have now no more to do, but to go immediately to Leonora; I know she wants a Maid, doubt not but she'll take you, and by that means you shall see Charite when you will, and enjoy all the pleasure in the world. Lysis having a confidence in this, went down into the Kitchen: All the Servants had the watchword given them, What would you, fair Maid! says one; whence come you? Another by way of abuse, swore he would willingly give his old breeches for her maidenhead. Lysis was out of himself for joy at this; and runs laughing to Hircan, for to give him the commendations of his art. He was so impatient, that he took leave of him and the aquatic Nymph; and taking a Lackey for his guide, took his way to Orontes' house. He was not gone fifty paces from the house, but he meets a Country woman; being desirous to try whether she took him for a maid, he went and made her a low courtesy; and said to her, with a counterfeit voice, Good morrow Gossip! pray show me the way to Orontes' Castle, I am a poor maid out of my way. Truly (answers the Country woman grumbling) I would not such a maid lay a night with my daughter, I should fear she might bring me more. What! you have no compassion on those of your own sex, says Lysis; I pray show me the way, this Lad knows it not; mark what may happen, if I come not soon to Orontes': I may be met by Shepherds, or Swineherds, or it may be by Satyrs, and then farewell the flower of my virginity.  
Thereupon the Lackey laughing, told the woman, that it was a maid that he conducted: but she grew a little angry, and pursuing her way, told them, they were affronters, and bid them make sport with some other. The Shepherd seeing this, knew that the charm of Hircan was not so strong as he had conceived, but he presently bethought him, that it was his own fault, because he had still man's clothes on, which had not been changed with his body: so that he would needs return to the Magician for some remedy. He told him what he thought of it; and Hircan assured him, that when he had maids clothes on, he might a great deal better deceive the world then in a man's. The watery Nymph was thereupon called for to dress him. He put off all to his drawers, which done, she put on him an under-pettycoat, and on that a green coat, and a grey waistcoat, and coiffed him after the fashion of Brie. She sighed so deeply in dressing him, that the Shepherd could not but ask her what she ailed. Alas! I ail nothing, says she, but that though I desire your sweet company, yet you forsake me to go to a Bitch, a Tygress, and a she-Wolf. Ah me! what say you, Synopaz (replies the Shepherd, who imagined she was so called) take heed the heavens punish you not; for my part I excuse you, it is not you that speak, but Rage and Jealousy.  
By this time he was quite ready, and Hircan having brought a looking-glass, he beheld himself therein, and cried out through excess of joy, O God it is impossible more to resemble a Shepherdess than I do: Here's nothing left of the Shepherd Lysis, but a soft down that shadows my chin. That's not much, says Hircan, there are many women have more beard than that, and among others, my own Kitchenmaid. However, let it be taken off, if you will. It is not to be much wondered at, if I have a little, replies Lysis, for 'tis three years since that a golden fleece hath adorned my face; though it might be very decent, yet I have shorn it once in eight days, and have rubbed me every morning with a pumice stone, to hinder it to grow, that I might seem the younger; but particularly, to be ready to disguise myself like a maid, when there should be any occasion, as I have ever had a desire to do. Lysis having so said, Hircan's man took off what hair was on his chin. Then did he believe, that his change of clothes, together with the charm, was enough to deceive all the world. Besides that, Hircan told him, he would be at Orontes' while he should be speaking to Leonora, to persuade her to take him into her service. He presently took horse, to be there the sooner, and Lysis in the mean time took his time to go thither, with his former guide. Hircan being come to Orontes, told him the pleasant adventure had happened to him. Florida, Leonora, and Angelica were also acquainted with it, and were impatient to see the Shepherd Lysis metamorphosed into a maid: So all that were present being in a good humour, they resolved to entertain him for to pass away the time.  
Lysis being on his way, bethought him what name he should take. There was none seemed more gentle, and more pastoral to him, than Amarillis, so that he took that; and when he viewed himself sometimes in his Shepherdess' habit, he said in himself, No, no, there is no shame to put on this garb, when Love commands it. The great Alcides changed his club into a distaff, and put on Joles gown instead of his Lion's skin. Was not Poliarchus clothed like a maid, and was called Theocrine? and did not Celadon do the like, and was called Alexis? This is the principal subject of Romances, and an amorous history is never good, if there be not a young man puts on maid's clothes; or a maid a man's. I appeal to all those who pass away their days in that delightful reading. I would to God Charite would imitate me, and put on the habit of my sex, as I have put on that of hers. Then must she pretend to love me, and if we were married, the change of clothes would not deceive any body; all would be very well.  
In the midst of these noble thoughts, the disguised Shepherd came to Orontes' house; and having asked to speak with Leonora, he was carried into the hall, where she was, together with the rest of the Company. Hircan stood up presently, and said to her, Madam, here is a maid wants a service, she is a kinswoman of my farmer's wife; if you will take her, I will be accountable for her true service. Leonora bid her draw near, and striving as much as she could to refrain laughing, asked her what she could do. Amarillis promised to do any thing was commanded her with a little showing. I see well, says Leonora, how the case stands, this maid is not good for the Chamber, nor for the Kitchen, but may serve to do somewhat every where. What say you as to wages? you need not think of that, replies Hircan, you shall reward her according as she shall have served you: So Leonora resolved to take this fine servant, who presently told her name, whereat those that were present could not any longer forbear laughing. As for Amaryllis, she looked like a scarecrow in a Hemp-yard. Her back was long and flat, as if she had carried a flat basket on it, and for her breast, it was no more plump than a Trencher; the rest was straight, as if it had been a distaff swaddled about.  
Hircan being gone away, they gave Amarillis divers things to do, which she did as well as any other should have done. She laid the cloth, rinsed the glasses, and made clean the chambers, and all with such modesty, that all wondered at it. The fair one durst not as much as lift up her eyes, and when she was at dinner with the men, she would have been very much out of countenance, had it not been that there were other maids as well as she, and especially Charite, whom she perpetually considered and viewed. The men and maids knew all that it was Lysis, but they were expressly forbidden to discover that they knew any thing, nor to call her by any other name than Amarillis; so that lest she might betray any thing, there was but little spoken to her.  
In the afternoon came thither Anselm and Montenor, who had sent their people all about to look for Lysis, of whom not having received any tidings, they were come to Leonora, to have some news of him. She told them, that she had not seen him, and thereupon called Amarillis, to bid her do somewhat. As soon as they saw her, they were so surprised, that they said not a word, but when she was gone, Anselm cries out, well Madam, if that be not Lysis, it is a Maid extremely like him. Leonora told him, he was not mistaken, and acquainted him what adventures the Shepherd had run through at Hircans the Magician. Anselm was infinitely pleased at the narration, and went into a Chamber where Amarillis was. She made as if she knew him not, nor did she discover herself; so that he left her, and beset himself to talk with Angelica. About an hour after came Hircan and Clarimond, whom he had sent for; then was the time come, that they resolved to make good sport with the new maid. Clarimond made it his business to play tricks with her, and would have kissed her. She thrust him back still as hard as she could; but that which most discovered her was that she could not sufficiently counterfeit her speech, and instead of speaking like a simple Country wench, she spoke a acquaint Court phrase. Let me alone says she, at every word, I would be touched no more than if I were a vestal. Be quiet, you would ravish me; have you any attempt on the Candour of my Chastity, and would see the wack of the Vessel of my Continency.  
Sometimes she spoke of herself in the masculine gender, instead of the feminine, yet no body seemed to take any notice. Clarimond set on her still with fine compliments, in which he called her his Goddess and his Nymph: They could not refrain laughing to see that he gave such qualities to a Wench so ill dressed; and Angelica asked whether the Nymphs wore quoifs? You need not doubt but there are some that do, says Anselm, for they are ever dressed according to the fashion of the Country where they reside. That's the reason that those of the river of Mar● wear coifs, such as are made at Meaux▪ and those of the River Seine wear french-hoods after the Paris fashion.  
There past divers other pleasant discourses on the like occasions; but all this was not much; for they conceived they might have made much more sport with Amarillis: yet they made as nothing were, and those who were not of the house returned every one to his own home, leaving Leonora and her new maid.  
Amarillis passed over four days with all the satisfaction in the world. They had assigned her a little chamber, where she lay alone, and never went out before she was fully dressed by a glass she had. Though she spoke not to Charite, but as to another ordinary servant, yet she thought the heavens very favourable to her, that she had the opportunity to see her when she pleased. Leonora was not weary of keeping her, for she took a pleasure to see with what diligence she served her; and on the other side, she feared not any ill report might come to her house by her means: She was of those that are in love by way of contemplation, whose pleasure are rather those of the mind, than those of the body; and she always set before her eyes the chastity of Alexis, who when he had his Mistress naked in his arms, had not the presumption to do any thing to her: if she thought it a happiness to love Charite, she thought it no less to be herself loved by Marcel, Orontes' Gentleman: This young Lad made excellent sport with her when he spoke to her of love, but she thought his discourses nothing but vanity. When she looked into the glass, she thought herself very handsome; and she was not far from a misfortune dangerous, as that of Narcissus; for the soul of Lysis loved that countenance of Amarillis which she saw, that made her often kiss the glass, that she might be mouth to mouth with that Shepherdess: though she beheld herself so often, yet is it not to be thence inferred, that she was any of the best dressed in the world. You will tell me, that her amorous imaginations made her so negligent; but there was something else in the wind; 'twas because she knew not so well how to trick up herself, and could not make herself as fine as Synopa had made her the first day.  
When she had been five days with Leonora, Anselm, Montenor, and Clarimond came thither without any noise. They had not been there all that time purposely to see what Amarillis would do in the mean while, and that time they had spent in several visits, and hunting. The discourses of Lysis had engaged Orontes, Florida, Leonora and Angelica to read Romances, for to know more of his principles, and to make the better sport with him. Clarimond had no sooner proposed that Amarillis must be accused of unchastity, but every one was in doubt how the accusation should be carried on. After they had consulted together, Leonora is seated in the Court on a high chair, and Florida and Angelica one on the one side, and the other on the other on stools. Presently Amarillis is sent for by two Sergeants, who bind her hands behind her, and drag her in a rough manner to the place, without saying any thing to her, though she conjured them to tell her, wherein she had offended. When she was come before Leonora, they made her sit down on a low stool, like a Criminal; which done, Orontes approaches with ten or twelve persons, Gentlemen and Gentlewomen about him, who had been sent for out of the neighbourhood, but came not there for any reason but to make a number, and were not to speak any thing, as Mutes in a Play. I have sent for this maid to have her punished, says Leonora to Orontes; what do you accuse her of. He thereupon puts on a serious countenance, and spoke to this purpose;  
I Am very sorry, Madam, that I am constrained to importune your chaste ears with a plea full of impurities; but seeing it is better to speak of vice, and to discover it, then to pass it over unpunished, I shall with confidence acquaint you what enormous crimes Amarillis hath committed. You charitably had received into your house this vagabond Wench, who disguissed a while the mischief she had within her; but to the dishonour of this house where she hath been so well entertained, it hath not been long ere she discovered what she was; and having with the eyes of concupiscence looked on the beauty of my man Marcel, she could not be at rest till she had brought him to condescend to her lewd desires; you know he hath those features in his face, that there is not a maid within twenty miles about, which is not in love with him: but this would engross to herself what all the rest desired, and by subtle allurements hath prevailed so far, that he hath stained the purity of his continence. He is not the only man hath been so served, and if he hath gone astray, he is to be pardoned, as far as his simplicity hath exceeded his evil intentions; but as for this she-wolf, I demand she may be punished according to the Laws which have ever been observed in this Country, against those that sin by fornication, as she hath done. Madam, do me justice; consider the enormity of the case, which is the pollution of this house; besides corrupting the chastity of a young man, that was chaster than Hippolytus. He was also my hope, and I had designed to marry him to my Farmer's daughter, of whom he might have gotten legitimate children, whereas now he is undone for ever. He hath lost his honour; his fairest flower is already gathered, he is not now fit for any body. Let us at least have the satisfaction to see her die, who hath been the cause of it, that so this misfortune may be repaired.  
Orontes having made this Speech, Leonora asked Amarillis, whether she had any thing to say against it? She answered, That she denied all was laid to her charge: So that they sent for Marcel, to know the truth. He came like a Ninny weeping; and says to Leonora, It is true, Madam, that this maid hath forced me to what I had no mind to do. After she had for a great while cast her sheep's eyes at me, she told me last night, that she had caught a great cold, and that she did nothing but cough; but that which troubled her most was, that she lay alone, and had no body near her to say, God bless you. Hereupon she was so importunate with me, that I could not be at rest till she had prevailed to do her that good office: and to be brief, I was fain to lie with her last night, and that hath been the occasion of this misadventure. If it be expected I should proceed any further in this story, shame will stop up the passage of my voice, and I dare speak no more.  
There Marcel gave over, and Amarillis assuming the discourse, cries out presently, Ah mischief! where wouldst thou seek what thou shouldst say more? have I desired thee to do any thing to thy dishonour and mine? and thou hast lain with me? Let the earth open now and swallow me up, if there be any such thing. Dost thou not remember, that when ever thou wouldst but kiss me, I have thrust thee back with as much disdain as if thou hadst been a monster? wilt thou imitate Paaedra who accused Hippolytus, that had slighted her; and because thou hast not been able to force me, wilt thou say that I have forced thee? Alas! Is there no Advocate here that will speak for me? He shall plead for Innocency itself.  
In saying so Amarillis looked about of all sides, but there was no body offered any thing in her defence: nor had she any witnesses to prove that she had always resisted the caresses of Marcel; and on the contrary, that it was he had come in against her. All the servants came and bore witness, that they had seen her look very wantonly on that Lad; and there was none but had somewhat to say, even Charite herself, who came and swore, she had heard her sigh before him. There was the surplusage of his misfortune, she durst not contradict that fair Charite, but was content to say within herself, that she wondered to see Lysis' Mistress speak against Amarillis, who had some features like those of that Shepherd.  
While she was in this consideration, and durst say no more, Leonora making as if she consulted with her sister and daughter, spoke to this effect:  
THe Complaint of Marcel and his Master being heard, as to what they affirm, That Amarillis hath corrupted this young man, and hath betrayed her honour; and forasmuch as the said maid hath always denied it, We ordain, That she be put to the trial of her chastity before there be any further proceeding, according to the custom of this Country.  
Amarillis was very well content with this judgement; so that presently the sacred Plate was sent for, which was kept among the treasure of the Castle. Those which were present, spoke of it as a thing that were really so; and affirmed, that none but chaste persons could tread on it, without burning the soles of their feet. There was one of the maids would needs go for it; but Orontes said to her, Trouble not thou thyself, I prithee, in this business, thou know'st too much distimulation, I will not be accountable for thee. Know, that those who are but guilty of the least matter that can be, dare not touch this Plate. It must be only sent for by little children, of whose chastity we are assured. Let the Gardeners two daughters bring it: whereupon the two little children were led where hung the brass Plate, whereon the maids dried the bands when they starched; they brought it away, and placed it in the middle of the Court. Amarillis thought all these things real; for she had observed such an other adventure in the Aethiopian history; and if they would try her by fire, she called to mind a certain Melite, whereof there is mention made in the Loves of Clitophon and Leucippus, who was put to the trial of water. While she was stripping herself for to go upon the Plate, a sturdy Groom making as if he were curious, touched it with the top of his finger. But he drew back presently, crying out, I burn, I burn, my hand is roasted. Thou art well enough served profane Rascal, says Orontes, thou wouldst not believe a thing that so many others have tried. Couldst thou forget that thou hadst passed all thy youth in Bawdy-houses? And yet dost thou pretend to Chastity after all?  
Amarillis observing this adventure, fell into some amazement, and being ready to tread upon the Plate, she was a little afraid of burning. As for Amarillis, says she in herself, I am sure she is chaste; but as for Lysis, I am not so certain: however, my feet shall not be burned, for it is in body and externally that I am Amarillis, and am not Lysis but in soul, seeing a Magician hath changed my Figure.  
Having by this subtlety reassured herself, she recovers her courage, having before examined her whole life past, and considered, that if the Shepherd Lysis had sinned, it had been only by desire, and that he had never committed folly with any of his members. It being at last resolved, that Lysis and Amarillis were as clear as when they were born, the accused party went bare foot upon the Plate, and remained on it a long while without feeling any heat; nor indeed was there any reason it should be hot, for it was above two days since there had been any fire under it. Some that were present, cried out thereupon, Come thence Amarillis, you are chaste, we are satisfied you have been too much persecuted. O Amarillis! the Queen of fair and chaste ones, what light you cast from that place. There is no other fire on that Plate, but that of your eyes. She came down infinitely pleased at these Exclamations; but Orontes crying out louder than any of the rest, came and said, That this proof was not to be credited, and that it was not true as to her particular. Amarillis is a Sorceress, I know it well enough, she hath some charms to save her from burning. Let her be stripped naked, that her characters may be taken from her, and then let her be condemned to the fire, or be cast into the River with a millstone at her neck.  
Thereupon Leonora bid them see whether she had any Witchcraft about her; which command given, all the Lacquays that were there fell upon her. One took away her coif, another her waistcoat, but she immediately covered her head with her apron, that her hair might not be seen, which was too short to be a maids. Clarimond upon this, issuing out of a place where he lay hid, came and delivered her out of the hands of those merciless ministers of justice; and having carried her into a corner where she might fit her clothes about her, went and cast himself on his knees before the Judges. Have pity on an innocent creature, Madam, says he to Leonora, if it be your design to put her to death, because you thirst after her blood, let me be in her stead, and let mine be spilt for her. I am so surprised with her beauties, that I am willing to die for her. You say she hath charms about her, it is true, she hath those of her eyes, that have no other operation but on me, and that to hurt me; and if she have any other besides, to save her from the burning of the sacred Plate, I confess it is I that have given them her, unknown to her. It is I that am the Sorcerer: 'tis I that am guilty, let there be made ready a pile of faggots, that I may be cast into the fire. I shall suffer no more than what I do every day; the fire I shall be cast in, will not be more ardent than that of the fair eyes of Amarillis. If you allege she is not only guilty of Witchcraft, but also of Fornication, for which she is nevertheless worthy to die, I will also suffer the punishment for her in that case, so she may live; nay, you shall give me a thousand deaths if you desire it. You understand not yourself, friend, replies Leonora, know you not that all crimes are personal, and that they who have committed them are only to be punished. If you are so desirous to die, you shall both die together. Make haste there, and bring some faggots, and set them afire. Leonora had no sooner pronounced that cruel sentence, but abundance of Crackers were fired at the gate, and Hircan issues out of a flame of Pitch and Rosin, like a Ghost in a Play. He held in his hand a lighted Torch, that made a great smoke; and the better to act the part of a Magician, he had a long Cassock of black Canvas. The whole presence seemed to be much troubled at his coming, and every one ran his way: so that it was easy for him to seize on Amarillis, whom when he had disposed into a Coach that waited at the gate: Fear not, fair Shepherd, says he to her, I am thy friend Hircan, who am come to succour thee in thy necessity. Those who had designed thee to death, may now seek after thee to little purpose. My Chariot is drawn by horses winged like Griffins, who in a short time will bring us to my house.  
The adventures past had so surprised Amarillis, that she knew not where she was, but at length coming to herself; and knowing Hircan, she thanked him for the favour he had done her. She told him that he should have brought Clarimond also away with him; because that he being detained as her surety, they would put him to death for her. Do not trouble yourself for that, says Hircan, one of my spirits hath carried him away, he is by this time at home. May we also be conducted along with the like dexterity, replies Amarillis: for Claudian speaking of the Chariot of Triptolemus, says, That the roads of the air are as dangerous as those of the sea.  
The Coach went a good pace, while they were so discoursing; so that in a little while they came to the Magician's Castle: Amarillis had much ado to persuade herself that she was still Lysis: she had quite forgotten that person, and it seemed strange to her to be called by that name: she felt herself in those parts which speak a man, and though she found there what was wont to be, yet was she not confident it was there. This doubt could she not be delivered of, till the Magician, as if he had used a Countercharm, had cast a little water on her head, speaking some barbarous words. Which done, he reassumed his Shepherd's habit, and went and related to the Nymph Synopa all the Adventures he had run through.  
All this was the design of Clarimond and Anselm, who had sent for Hircan. They flaid at Orontes' Castle with the rest of the Company, and had good sport and laughing at all the follies of the amorous Shepherd. Every one affirmed, there was nothing comparable to his conversation, and that they had now really seen a remarkable adventure, which before had never been seen but in writing. But if they were satisfied, Lysis (how hard I find it not to call him still Amarillis) was no less. He said, that that had happened to him which was not in any History in the world: There was in the Faithful Shepherd a Shepherdess of the same name, who had been falsely accused to have been dishonoured; and in a later Pastoral that he had read, there was another Shepherdess accused upon the same account; but that it was never heard that a Shepherd having put on Maid's clothes, had been called to question for any such thing. In all manner of adventures he still exemplified out of divers Romances, which I shall not name: And it is not much to be wondered at if he produced many examples to the same purpose; for it is observed that those rare wits that compose them, are so furnished with invention, that they can hardly advance any thing which they have not stolen from others.  
Lysis having his ordinary clothes on, was already weary at the Magicians, and had a mind to go visit Montenor and Anselm: He took the same Coach wherein he came, and returned to them. They were come home from Orontes'; and assoon as they saw him, they stood as amazed, and asked him where he had been all that while. Do you not see that I have still my Gitarrhe in my hand? says he, smiling: I have been to give my Mistress a Serenade; it is but one day since I went hence. You have then slept away six in some cave, replies Montenor: In the mean while you have lost a fair deal of time; you have not seen a Maid that Leonora had, who seemed to us well as handsome as Charite.  
Clarimond who was in another chamber, came in thereupon, and avowed the Lass was so handsome, that he was desperately fallen in love with her, and that he knew not how she was taken away from him. Lysis smiling, would not any longer conceal the truth; and so said to them, You have been deceived, my dear friends! it was I that acted the part of Amaryllis: Now I tell you, but say nothing of it at Orontes', lest Leonora be angry with me. Every one seemed to be ravished with admiration, and above all Clarimond, who could not give over saying, Shall I henceforth love nothing but an Idea? where shall I find the fair Nymph that hath wounded me? Ah, Lysis! seeing she is in thee, I must change my love into an honourable friendship. There was nothing else talked of all suppertime; and the next day after dinner they went all to Orontes's, who asked the Shepherd where he had been for the space of seven or eight days, all which time they had not seen him. To which he answered, that he had been visiting certain Shepherds of the Country. When they had given over questioning him, he took his time to go and entertain Charite aside, where she was at work at some linen. Incomparable Shepherdess! says he to her; how long will you not regard my love? Know you not that Lignon shall return to its source, the Trees shall be leafless in the Spring, and Love without his quiver and torch, before the Shepherd Lysis shall cease to adore you? Will you ever be a Crocodile, to draw men to you and devour them? or a Gorgon, or a Medusa, to change hearts into rocks of constancy, whereas your own is a rock of disdain? Ha! well fare thou Diamantin! ah Anaxeretes! The Shepherd had no sooner said so, but Charite runs away from him, and goes & says to Leonora, Truly Madam, I cannot any longer suffer this Lysis; he doth nothing but abuse me. Whereupon he drew near and said, that he called heaven to witness he had ever courted his Mistress with as much respect as if she had been some Divinity, and that he had not spoken to her but in acquaint terms taken out of the Poets, and that all his discourses were perpetual citations. Then he repeated what he had said; and Leonora thinking it very significant, bid Charite learn what Compliments were, and to receive her servant more kindly thenceforward. However he entertained her not any further at that time; for they had engaged him into a discourse about other things.  
Being returned to Montenors', and having a mind to walk into the fields a little before supper, he met a Countryman, whom he asked where he intended to lodge that night. He told him, at Coulommiers. That put him into a little study; for it seems he had heard say that that Town was but thirteen leagues off Paris, whereas he thought himself a hundred distant from it. At which Coulommiers? says he to the Countryman. At Coulommiers in Brie, says the other. You are mistaken, friend, replies Lysis: You talk of lodging in Brie to night, whereas you are now in Forests, there is a great distance between them, I know well the Geography of them▪ I know my way as well as you can tell me, replies the Countryman: I have gone this way these thirty years, you shall not need teach me. And so kept on his way, leaving Lysis in an unspeakable astonishment. A while after he met another man, that came from that quarter where the other went: In what Country are we, says he to him? you'll do me a favour to tell me. You know better than I, Sir, says the other to him; what think you? are we not in Brie! In Brie! replies Lysis, sure we are in Forests; do you not see I am clad like a Shepherd? But whence come you now? whither go you? do you intent to lodge to night at Montbrisson? 'Tis a great way thither, replies the Traveller, I know it well, it is my own Country; I would I were there! but I am but a league off Coulommiers, through which Town I came, and I shall lie to night at the first Town where I find good lodging. Lysis was now more amazed then before; and he could not resolve whether Brie were transported to the place where Forests should be, or whether he himself had insensibly leaped out of one Country into the other. He spoke with much earnestness to this Traveller, who answered him as seriously, and gave him such reasons as convinced him that he had been deceived. The vexation it put him to was such, that he would not return to Montenor's. The man he met seemed to him to be a good humoured fellow, so that he resolved to indent a friendship with him, though his face was somewhat of the roughest. Having asked him what he was, he gave this account of himself: About five years since (says he) I was by profession a Journyman-Joyner, and had the occasion to fasten a board in the Study of a Learned man that lived at Paris: He entered into talk with me; and finding my discourses to his mind, he told me, that if I would serve him, he would make me a knowing man. Now he had found out the Philosopher's stone of Knowledge; and in the papers he caused to be stuck up and down the City, he promised the Abridgement of those long Studies. I quitted my former profession, for to become learned under him: And I swear to you, that having served him ever since till now, he hath taught me very excellent things. I know not what's become of him since: I left him about a small difference that happened between us; and now I travel up and down France, teaching what I know to children. You never heard of any thing more admirable than what I know; I speak readily on any subject is given me; my name is Carmelin. Seeing you are so eloquent, says Lysis, let me hear what you can say of Virtue. Virtue is so fair, replies Carmelin, that if men could see her naked, they could not but fall in love with her: They say, that at Rome it was necessary to pass through her Temple to that of Honour. As Silver is of less esteem than Gold, so is Gold than Virtue. She it is that takes deep root in the field of our souls, but all other things fade and fall like the flowers of the meadow. And what say you of Pleasure? replies Lysis. Pleasure is the most importunate Mistress in the world, says Carmelin; the wages she gives us in the end are diseases and despairs: It abounds with honey and gall; if it present us with Hyppocras, there's wormwood in the bottom of the bowl: She is a treacherous whore, that doth not embrace, but to kill you. As I am a Shepherd, cries out Lysis, here are as many French Margarites as ever I heard in my life: It is clearly seen that you have most exquisite observations, and excellent common-places. You are the man I want, I shall never meet with a better companion. I see you are an unsettled person, you shall stay in this Country with me. A small matter maintains us, if you will but turn Shepherd as I am; for invitations are so forced upon me, that I am hardly able to satisfy those that would have me to dinners and suppers. Know you what a Pastoral life is? The Pastoral life is the happiest in the world, replies Carmelin; Shepherds are content with the little they have, and he that is content is happy. The Naturalists teach us, that the thunder falls on the tallest trees, and not on the lowest shrubs; so calamities aim at great persons, and pass over poor rustics. Say you so! there is the word indeed, says Lysis out of excess of joy: what an able man are you! you speak nothing but sentences. What wonders shall we do, if you live with me! We will make Books, we will crack Arguments, and Harangue it before the Nymphs. I will give you a Mistress, if you have not chosen one already. You shall court her, and receive signal favours from her; but you must resolve to suffer somewhat before you obtain her, for she is a most discreet Shepherdess. Will you not treat her with fine amorous Compliments? They say, that in Aethiopia there was a statue of Memnon, which when the Sun shone on it, made an harmonious sound, says Carmelin; in like manner, when you or any other person of equal merit shall dart your rays on me, I shall speak those things that shall satisfy your ears. The custom of Persia being to make presents to the King, a poor handy-craftsman that met Artaxerxes, and had nothing to give him, went and fetched a little fresh water, and presented him with it. So I shall not indeed present you but with small matters, but you will esteem them much, if you measure them by my good will, knowing that I have not the treasure of Croesus. Do not quote so much, says Lysis, let us return to the statue of Memnon, I think I am of the same humour. As soon as ever my head is smitten by the heat of the Sun, I begin to sneeze. But to speak of what concerns you, without any further digressions, I swear to you that you will find those pleasures with me, that neither the most powerful words of your eloquence, nor mine can ever express. Carmelin, who was not the wisest in the world, was ravished with the promises of Lysis. Upon this there past by a Country-fellow, of whom the Shepherd asked the way to Clarimonds' Castle; he told him he was going that way, and bid him follow. Lysis did so, being resolved to go thither, because he had a good opinion of the disposition of that Gentleman. He found him at home, for he had left Montenor and Anselm. But Clarimond was amazed to see him, and ased him why he had left his good friends. They are cheats, replies Lysis, they have brought me hither, making me believe it was the Country of Forests, and 'tis Bry; but if I be a Shepherd, I shall live as happily here as elsewhere. My mother hath discharged the Shepherd she had, says Clarimond, will you take his place; the condition is not to be contemned, you shall have wages, and shall be well entertained: In the morning your Scrip shall be well furnished, and at night you shall have as much pottage as you will. To propse this to me, is to treat me unworthily, replies Lysis; know, that I will not keep any sheep but what shall be my own, I will not be a Hireling. 'Tis not out of any necessity I take this condition, but for the tranquillity of this kind of life. 'Tis upon the same grounds that so many Shepherds of Arcadia and Forests, who are come from noble houses do the like. But you that have sworn to turn Shepherd with me, tell me, where is the memory of all your oaths? I have forgot nothing of what I promised you, replies Clarimond, but I cannot yet perform it, because of some business I have to do of my mothers, which I may not by any means neglect. A man must put away all cares, before he can be a Shepherd as you are. You are in the right, replies Lysis, and in the mean time this honest man here, will bear me company. He is a knowing person, hear him speak, that you may see what he is.  
When he had so said, he showed Carmelin to Clarimond; who presently said to him, It seems you are a Companion of this brave Shepherd. Virtue will soon have Companions, answers Carmelin. Pliny and du Vair say, that the stone Panthaura draws to itself whatever is near it; so virtue draws all the world after it. How! he quotes Authors, says Clarimond: you see it, says Lysis, he is the principal disciple of the Author of the Abridgement of Long-studies. Nay, than I do not wonder that he is learned, replies Clarimond, there are none but excellent persons come out of the School of such a Philosopher.  
That past, Clarimond gave order Supper should be made ready, seeing he must needs entertain these new guests, notwithstanding his mother's niggardliness. While they were at table, Carmelin displayed the excellency of his knowledge, and discoursed about temperance. There were none, Lysis excepted, but could easily see, that he spoke like a Parrot, and that he had by heart things he understood not: for he pronounced the words false, never stopped at any period, nor ever elevated or let fall his voice.  
Lysis proposing to him what he ought to do to be a Shepherd, told him, that in the first place he must choose a fine name, and quit that of Carmelin, which was not so proper for a man of their quality; and that he would have him called Corydon, Thyrsis or Melibeus; but Carmelin said, that his Father and all his Ancestors had been called so, and that he would not do them the injury to change their name. You must at least disguise it whatever come on't, says Lysis; and so making a diminutive of it, I will call you Carmelinet, or Carmelinthus, or Carmelindor; these words have the full sent of a Romance. When I have said a thing, I am resolute to observe it, says Carmelin. Well, seeing you are inconvincible, keep your former name, replies Lysis, I know what's to be done. To give an Etymology of this name of Carmelin, I will have it derived from Charms, to show that you make Charms or Verses, or that you desire to make some. While this past, Lysis observing the countenance of Carmelin, and all the rest of his body, found much that he had somewhat to object to. You must also change your Physiognomy to be a Shepherd with me, says he to him, you are as nasty as a Pedants boy: your hair's as greasy, as if it had been washed in salad oil; your beard is in such a posture, as if it had never known what a razor nor scissors meant, and that you had never been trimmed but with a wisp of lighted straw, or with the shells of burnt nuts, as Dionysius the Tyrant was. I observe also on your moustaches, certain little pearls which fall out of your nose like dew. That hair must be taken away, where the immundicities of the common shore of you brain are stopped. Do you not see that I have the chin as clear as any Roman Emperor? why would you suffer your beard so long? or do you keep it for a bib to save your ruff, when you eat porridge? you must also have washballs for your hands, which are as earthy, as if for want of a plough, they had turned up an acre of ground; nor must you forget to keep your nails short, which towards the top are of a slate colour, and are so overgrown, that they may be used for lanterns, or may serve for shooing-horns. This correction made Carmelin hold his peace a while; but at last he swallowed down his shame in a glass of wine, and promised to make himself as neat as the Bridegroom of a Country Village.  
Clarimond sent a man to Anselm, to bid him not trouble himself about Lysis; and so commanded a Chamber to be prepared for the two Shepherds. Having discoursed a little while after supper, they went to bed all three. The next day Lysis being unwilling to defer his being a Shepherd in good earnest any longer, propossed it to Carmelin, and seeing that he was more willing to be his servant then his companion, because he was very poor, he was resolved to take him to his service; yet not commanding him any thing but what was easy and honourable: So he gave him money, and bid him go buy sheep in some market, and withal, charged him not to forget to take off his beard, and cleanse his hair. When he was gone, Clarimond came and drew Lysis into some discourses about his Loves; and asked him, if he had not yet received some signal favour of Charite. He answered, that his own over-respect towards her, had hindered him. Assure yourself Lover, says Clarimond, that fortune favours confidence, nay temerity. Contemn the resistances of your Mistress; maids do not run from us, but to be followed and overtaken. They fight not, but to be overcome, and are pleassed they are not the strongest. If your lips may touch theirs, you must not be content with that: for he that hath obtained a kiss, and proceeds no further, shows himself unworthy of what he hath received. You'll bring me the examples of many chaste Shepherds, but they are all Coxcombs; there are divers others more to be commended than they, who have made their Mistresses leap again.  
A certain strange pleasure came thereupon, and tickled Lysis; and for to be somewhat satisfied in his love, he resolved to follow Clarimonds' advice, and to endeavour to arrive at some enjoyment. In this consideration he went out to walk somewhere near the Castle. He had not been out half an hour, but he perceives two women on the highway, who came leisurely towards him. At length he perceived it was Orontes' gardeners wife, and the fair Charite. He went behind a hedge, that he might not be seen: And as they went along, says Charite to the other, I must rest myself before I go any further; let's sit down here. They presently sat them down on the grass: So that Lysis putting on what confidence he could, came and accosted them. They acquainted him that they were going in pilgrimage to St. Fiaere. But he immediately changing the discourse, began to praise the beauty of Charite, which was increased by the heat she had by going. The Gardeners wife, who understood nothing of all this, rise up and said to her companion, that she would go leisurely before, and that she could not endure to be sitting. The Shepherd seeing himself all alone with his Mistress, would put in practice that are of Loving that Clarimond had taught him; and in the first place taking the fair hand which had stolen away his heart, he would needs kiss it. Charite draws it back presently, so that he was forced to say to her, If you will not give me leave to kiss naked this thief of my heart, I'll draw your smock-sleeve over it, and kiss it so; will you not permit me? People are fain to kiss Relics through a glass.  
Having said so, he strove so much, that he kissed the bare hand: And believing he ought in consequence endeavour some greater victory over his sweet enemy, Ha Charite! says he to her with dying eyes and an amorous gesture, Now that we are alone, whose fault is it that we imitate not Daphnis and Cloe, and that we strip not ourselves naked as they did, to go and wash together in some fountain hereabouts? There is one I know hath so much umbrage, that the Sun who sees all things cannot discover us there: I must lie on thy breast, seeing thou art my Altar, and that I am the Victim that is to be laid on it. Wilt thou not suffer that my half be glued to thine? Is there no means that both of us together make an Androgyne?  
He was no sooner delivered of these words, but his Mistress understood well enough what he meant; for it is a maxim, That a maid cannot be so simple but she will apprehend this, in what terms soever it be spoken. So that Charite rise up, and going her ways said to him, Fear not, Impudence! but assure thyself that I'll tell my Lady of this; thou comest to disturb my devotions with thy follies: If ever thou comest to our house again, thou shalt find the door shut. Lysis rising up, cries out, O Virgin more tender than the vine-bud! thou run'st away from me faster than the young Fawn doth from the merciless tooth of a Bear: I do not run after thee like a Wolf for to devour thee; I am no Myrmidon, nor savage Dolopus. Alas! stay till thou hear me, or hear me till I come to thee: Thou fliest like an Asp whose tail hath been trod on. Notwithstanding this complaint, she kept on her way still: which so amazed him, that he durst not run after her, but remained as immovable as a statue. Oh how often did he curse the advice of Clarimond, which had procured him nothing but the disfavour of Charite! Oh how did he now wish he had said nothing at all to her, and that he had been as mute that day as the fish in the river Mosin, which must no more be called Lignon! Oh how he wished he had had no more use of his members then a Paralytic, before his Mistress, that so he might have done her no violence! But what was passed could not be recalled; all his recourse now was to sighs and tears.  
Dinnertime was slipped away in these imaginations: So that Clarimond wondering he returned not, went out to look after him. Having found him weeping at the foot of a tree, Ah Clarimond! says the Shepherd to him, wonder not that I weep; it is for to water this Elm, and to make it grow in requital for the shadow it hath given Charite when she fate under it. But alas! if thou wouldst know another cause of my weeping, it is that I have offended that fair one by thinking to put thy doctrine in practice. It may be you have not carried yourself discreetly in the business, replies Clarimond, and you have betrayed the mystery. How is it possible I should do amiss? says Lysis, seeing I said not one word to her which I cannot show in very good Authors. 'Tis therefore because she is not so well read, says Clarimond; and before you should have entertained her in that manner, you should have brought her to read. There's the secret! replies Lysis: But seeing you are the cause of my misfortune, you are obliged to find out some remedy, and to make my peace with her. I beseech you remonstrate to her, that if I have spoken of making the Androgyne, I meant no hurt thereby: Is it not well known that heretofore men were double; but that to punish their iniquities, they were divided in two? That's the reason that every one is so desirous to find his other half, and by joining it to himself to make up a perfect creature. Now there may be a juncture without fin, as that of wills and desires: And I may well say that was the manner I meant. And if Charite abhor these copulations, let her beware the judgement of Jupiter: He hath given men notice, that if they return to their offending him, he will further divide every half in two. Seeing she will not hear of joining herself, the Gods might justly divide her in that manner: And do you think it would be a fine sight to see her in two parts, each of them having but half a nose, half a mouth, one eye, one ear, one buttock, one thigh, and one foot, with which she should go leaping like a Flea, and straighten herself up again like a Bob. 'Twere great pity to see her in that posture, says Clarimond; she must know so much: If you were to satisfy your love in the enjoyment of her, you must bring those two parts together, which would be an excessive trouble: And then if you should be jealous, consider what means there were to look to such a woman; while you had one half with you in your own bed, the other would be in your neighbours.  
After these learned considerations, Clarimond persuaded the Shepherd so far of the possibility of qualifying Charites cruelty, that he got him home to eat somewhat. Thence they took their way to Hircan's Castle, for diversion sake, and went all by ease discoursing of the miracles the Magician did. When they were come thither, Hircan carried them into the Garden, where Lysis had never been before. When he saw it was so fair, it seemed to him to be the residence of the Spring, Summer and Autumn, because there was all sorts of Flowers, and all sorts of Fruits: He thought that Hircan had for ever banished the Winter thence by the force of his charms. Being in a Walk which was broad and very close at the top, he was so much taken with it, that stretching out his arms he cries out, Ha fair Walk! thou shalt have of my Verses, I swear it to thee; thou deservest I should make a Description of thee some time or other. Out of that he goes into a Bower, built for to elude the heat of the day: There he sees a Spring so well painted, that he says to the rest, Come not so near, we shall be wet. And perceiving a Horse excellently well drawn in a field, he broke forth into this fustian: See you how that horse runs! you will lose him, Hircan; why do you not tie him to some tree? He runs away from himself! he leaves himself behind! While he was thus busy, Hircan turning a little Cock, made the water issue out in good earnest out of a Plank below, by a many holes, O wonder! cries out Lysis, running away: I knew this Magician had thwarted the course of nature: whereas in other places the water falls down from heaven to earth, here it issues out of the earth, as if it would threaten heaven: Or is it that this piece of earth will weep in its turn, for the pains which I suffer?  
There was with Hircan a Cousin of his, called Fontenay, who was come to see him. He wondered much at what Lysis said, as never having heard any thing equally extravagant. He took aside one of the servants, and asked whether he knew him. He answered, that he knew no more of him, then that he was one become a Fool through an excessive love he bore to Catherine, Leonora's Chambermaid. He was yet more to seek; for he knew the Wench, and thought it impossible she should cause so much love: He knew she was of a fair complexion, and that she was somewhat flaxen-haired; but she had in requital some features in the face, which were so far from handsome, as were sufficient to raise her the esteem of deformed. He therefore not being satisfied, spoke to Hircan of it, who in few words acquainted him with the disease of Lysis. When he understood it, he goes and confidently sets upon the Shepherd, saying to him, I hope you'll pardon my curiosity, if I ask you who you are; For seeing you have an extraordinary manner of speaking, I am very desirous to learn it: All those of whom I have enquired concerning it, can give me no satisfaction at all. I never refused any man living what thou askest me, says the Shepherd, know then that I am Lysis, and let that suffice thee. That's not enough, replies Fontenay; know then, replies the Shepherd, that I am a Lover of the fair Charite. All this is nothing, says the other to him: what Profession are you of? What an importunate fellow art thou? says Lysis: seest thou not I am a Shepherd? doth not my habit discover so much? But that you may not quarrel with words, nor take things literally, I tell thee, that I am not of the number of those rustics whose residence are the fields: I am of those, whose histories are committed to Romances, which are every day made, and whose actions are represented by the Players on their stages. In good faith Master (says Fontenay, who could conceal nothing he knew) I think you are the successor of Don-Quixote of Mancha, and that you have inherited his folly. After he had been Knight-Errant, he would be a Shepherd, but he died in the design; and I believe you would be Shepherd in his stead, and continue his extravagancies. You lie, says Lysis, I do nothing but of my own invention, I never imitated him you speak of; and if I have read his history, it hath been by the way. He was a fool, who imagined himself a Lover of Dulcinea, when he had never seen her: whereas I have the advantage to converse with Charite every day. He understood nothing of the sovereign felicity. 'Tis not in Arms it will be found, there is nothing but trouble, and the mind thereby becomes brutish: 'Tis in keeping of Flocks, that there is profit and pleasure. Fontenay seeing the Shepherd beginning to be hot; to vex him the more, said to him: Thou givest me the lie, infamous wretch, assure thyself thou shalt give me satisfaction. What dost thou think thyself to be? thou art the contempt of all the world. That Charite for whom thou sighest so much, cares not for thee, and 'tis of me that she is passionate: every day she courts me. and yet I will not be catched by her enticements, for I have a many other Mistresses handsomer than she.  
Here it was that Lysis was all afire, he was making towards Fontenay to strike him; but Hircan held him by the arm, and carried him a walking another way, while Clarimond entertained his enemy. Lysis asked Hircan, whether he had not some Magical glass, wherein he might see whether it were true that Fontenay was beloved by his Shepherdess. Hircan told him, that he had broken his, out of indignation that he had once seen a Mistress of his in the arms of one of his Rivals, and that he had not yet had the leisure to make another; but that he could tell him what he desired to know, by some otherways; and that if Fontenay had offended him any way, he would see him revenged of him. Thereupon he showed him a little grove of his, and told him, that all those trees he saw had sometimes been men that he had metamorphosed, because they had done some injury to him or his friends, and that to enrich himself in a moment, he found nothing so easy as to make a forest of his Enemies, which should be full grown timber, and ready for the axe. Lysis, who had a while before read Ovid's Metamorphoses, where there are things far more incredible, easily believed this. He resolved to be ever a friend of Hircans, both that he might not hurt him, and might assist him to punish those that should injure him.  
A while after, Hircan having carried the company into the house to a Collation, Lysis said not a word to Fontenay, contenting himself not to look on him. Synopa was there, who as she was as impudent as need be wished, she went and said to the Shepherd before all that were present, Ah! inhuman heart! wilt thou never believe the torments I suffer for thee? Behold the thing observed in all Pastorals, says Lysis, a Maid ever loves him that affects her not: In Montemajor, Seluage pursues Alanio, Alanio courts Ismenia, Ismenia Montan, and Montan Seluage: So Synopa follows me, I Charite, Charite desires Fontenay, and Fontenay desires another Shepherdess, who haply loves another Shepherd, that can affect none then Synopa. Is not that a fine wheel, and as good as that of Pythagoras? We'll run one after another in the fields, holding by one another behind, as children do at a certain play whereof I have forgot the name. Charite shall say, Go not so fast my Fontenay; and Lysis shall say, Stay my Charite, at least let me die in your presence: and then Synopa shall come after, and say, Forsake that ingrateful one Lysis, and stay with with her that lives not but for thy sake. I do not wonder at the diversity of all our affections, for it must necessarily be so; and there were never any Pastorals seen, wherein that hath not been observed: But it is withal to be noted, that one day all shall be reconciled, and by the power of some God, it shall come to pass, that every one shall love what he should love, as it happens in the end of every good history, which ever concludes with marriage.  
Every one seemed to admire these excellent reasons; so that Lsis thinking he had spoken mightily to the purpose, was very well satisfied. Yet when he had left Hircans house, there came somewhat into his memory, that animated him against Fontenay. Had it not been for that, he would have returned back to the Magicians, for he was not well satisfied with Clarimonds' mother; but to remain where his enemy was, he could not by any means submit to. Clarimond having spoken to him of the injury he had received, heightened his spirit to revenge: so that he was much to seek what he should do. You must fight, says Clarimond, there's no other way; send Fontenaie a Challenge, he is a man of his weapon, he'll meet you in the field. I have diligently perused all books of Shepherdrie, replies Lysis; but I never found any Shepherd that fought a duel: And if any one hath taken Arms, as Celadons' father did, it was not well done, and it was a transgression of our Ordinances. I am not such an enemy to Laws, as to be a transgressor of them, as he was; and yet it is not out of Cowardice, for if it were to fight with Sheephooks, I should be the first in the charge: or if it were to be at slings, to cast peeble stones, I should make one, it hath been my exercise ever since I was a little boy: There's nothing becomes us better; and 'tis certain, David had but a sling to overcome Goliath. He was one of the most eminent Shepherds in the world, and therefore must be imitated in all things. You must then send Fontenaie word, that you will fight with him at the sling, replies Clarimond. Let's not be so hasty, says Lysis, it may be he'll come and ask me pardon for the injury he hath done me.  
Upon these discourses they retched Clarimonds' Castle, where they found Carmelin returned. 'Twas much besides the expectation of Clarimond, who thought that strange face having gotten so much money of Lysis, would have gone his way, and not have brought him any sheep, as many would have done in the like case. But he was as good as his word; for he considered that he could hardly meet with a better fortune, than he expected from his new Master, with whom he was to live as his Peer and Companion. He bethought him, he was lodged in a Castle, whereas before he understood not any thing above a Cottage: and above all, he was much pleased to eat at a Gentleman's Table, whereas before, he had hardly ever eaten a meals meat, but in some wretched Victualling house But what was yet more, he had sometimes heard read some few leaves of the Pleasures of a Pastoral life, the charms whereof had fully captivated him. He had therefore been at a small Market Town, where he had bought a dozen sheep dearer than they were worth, for he was not much skilled in the employment. He had also been at the Brokers, and changed a black suit he had on, for a grey one, and had trimmed himself Lysis thought him very spruce and neat, though he was not fully shaved, and had long moustaches; for he said he might easily take off that when he had a mind to disguise himself into a maid, to go and see his Sweetheart: As for the Flock, though it was in an ill case, yet was he satisfied with it, both in regard he was in such impatience to have one, that he would take the first presented itself; and that he thought it a glory to feed it: so that whereas it was now very lean, he would within a while make it very fat.  
After Supper he began to consider, that Clarimonds' mother did not bid him so welcome as he expected as indeed it was true: the good Lady being much given to zeal and devotion, was not well pleased to see a fool at her Table. He conceived himself obliged to take a Lodging elsewhere, and hire some little Cottage for himself and Carmelin. This consideration was accompanied with a many other designs, which required sudden execution: so that he called his man, and said to him, Put the Flock into the stable, if it be not already, bring me my Gittarrhe, give me pen, ink and paper, look out for a house for me, go and see how Charite doth, present my service to the Magician and his naiad; Tell Anselm and Montenor, I am no longer their friend. Thou art nothing vigilant, A man must tell thee all thou hast to do. Carmelin took a little snuff at this, and began to complain of the hastiness of his master, whose commands were so far from a possibility of execution, that they could not well be understood. But Lysis made his excuses for it, that being in his resueries he had spoken all came into his mind. So that he desired nothing but his Gittarrhe, which they were fain to send to Montenor's for.  
Clarimond having heard him a while playing on that Instrument, said the harmony was most excellent and ravishing; but that it was a far greater recreation for one to decipher his passions, whether it were in prose or verse. He was of the same opinion; and putting away his Gitarrhe, asked for pen and ink to write a Letter to Charite. 'Twas a thing seemed so far necessary, as it concerned him to know how much he was in her favour, and whether she still bore him any grudge. He sat up all night about it, and did nothing but write down and blot out a thousand conceits; but at last he brought it to that pass, as it should not suffer any further alteration. And though it was not yet day, he went and awoke Clarimond for to communicate it to him; for he was not so scrupulous now as when he writ his first Letter, which he would not show Anselm. And these were the Contents of it.  
Lysis' Pullet, or Love-Letter to the Fair CHARITE.  
SInce that Love, which is the lightest Bird in the world, hath nestled in my bosom, it hath proved so full of egg, that I have been forced to suffer him to lay there. But since he hath laid it, be hath sat upon it a long time, and at length hath hatched this little PULLET, which I now send you. The breeding of it will cost you little; all the food it will require will be caresses and kisses. And withal it is so well taught, that it speaks better than a Parakeet, and it will tell you as well as myself my sufferings for you. It hath in charge to inquire whether or no you be yet displeased with me, and to let me know your mind, not by a PULLET so big as this, but by the least Chicken you please, if I may have the favour; with this promise, that if you have laid aside your rigour, I shall send you no more Pullet's, but present you with Cocks full of valour and affection, such as will ever be  
Your faithful Shepherd, LYSIS.  
The Shepherd was wholly ravished at the repetition of it, and protested he had surpassed himself in this Letter; and Clarimond avowed as much, by reason it was full of a certain more than common ingenuity. And indeed he was in the right; for Lysis had many good Intervals, in which so many Ideas thronging into his fancy, it was very hard that now and then he should not hit on somewhat that were good. Certainly for this humour it was happy enough; and by this he lets us understand why a Love-Letter was called a Pullet, a thing which many that use the word wholly understand not. Clarimond therefore having admired his invention, he was content to believe it would find no less esteem with his Mistress, and that there was no hardness of heart whatever that this could not soften. Nay, the agitations of his passions were such, that he was in a strong belief that Charite would immediately command him to attend her; nay he did not stick to say, that if he were to pass the Sea like Leander to see his Hero, he would do it cheerfully. But Clarimond envying him this enjoyment, and desirous to affront the fable, said, That the poor Leander must needs be too cold, after having passed an arm of the Sea, (as he did every time) to enjoy his Mistress; and that he must be a lusty man indeed, if after all that he were rampant; and that it had been better to have hired some Barge to pass from one shore to another, or else to have steered it himself, and that for his part he knew no reason why he might not hide himself all day in some obscure house somewhere near the lodgings of his fair Hero, that he might save so much trouble, and be the fitter to visit her at night. Lysis replied, that assuredly that Lover wanted not his hindrances to all this; and that though the story was not the most probable in the world, yet was it not to be mistrusted as to the truth of it, being reported by so many good Authors.  
Lysis was not willing to enlarge himself in this discourse, because he was at this time more employed about bringing to pass his own loves, then to consider by what means others enjoyed theirs. Nay, so impatient was he, that he left Clarimond to seal his Letter, and in all haste called Carmelin to go carry it to Charite. But Carmelin was so sound asleep, that he had much ado to make him wake. Thou lazy fellow, quoth he, hast thou a mind to bury both body and soul in these fathers? Seest thou not that the Sun begins to scatter his beams upon the vaults of heaven? He is now a gild of the Mountain-tops, and it will not be long ere he kiss the lowest herbs: Yea, the Husbandmen withdraw out of the bosoms of their wives, where they had slept as on a pillow; and the Birds warble out their acclamations, to welcome the Day.  
Carmelin being forced to awake, saw that indeed it was break of day; so that Lysis gave him his Letter, with commands to carry it to his Mistress. He rubbing his eyes, which by this time were half open, beseeched him to tell him what kind of woman she was, and where he might find her. If thou seest her, says Lysis, thou wilt know her well enough; she is a Sun that enlightens all the world, and cannot suffer any eclipse. Then, says Carmelin, you write to the Sun for aught I know; as I am an honest man, you must find another Messenger, for my part I cannot fly so high; would you would send it post by some bird. Thou understandest not, answers Lysis, or at least wilt not understand I speak of the Shepherdess Charite, that dwells in the Castle of Orontes, any body will tell thee the way.  
Clarimond being in bed, heard all this discourse, and called Lysis to him, telling him that he did ill for to send Carmelin to carry a Love-Letter to his Mistress, and that possibly he might be beaten by the way. I can help all this, answers Lysis: I have sometimes read a Bood, called The Temple of Venus, where there are many curious secrets for concealing of Letters; among others, that of sending them by Doves, that will carry them. But it were too much for me to descend to the imitation of any; for upon better thoughts I find, that I have another design much better. The Chicken that run about Orontes' house, will now and then get out into the street; I will tie my Letter to one of their legs, and it shall carry it into the house, where Charite may receive it. It is an excellent invention, says Clarimond; but methinks Charite should have notice beforehand: And if you could make such an address to her, you might deliver her your Letter without making use of such an artifice, which for the present is not at all necessary. But, says he, I know another invention better than this: Your Shepherdess, you are to note, is a little sweet-lipped; when she is at Paris, she is ever eating of Penny-pyes; you had best entreat a Pye-woman to put it into one of her Pies, and there she'll be sure to find it. We are not now in the City, replies Lysis, and possibly she hath changed her custom; besides that, such Pullet's as mine use not to be put in Paste. You are very much in the right on't, Master, says Carmelin; for possibly she may be so hungry, that she may eat crust, flesh, and paper all at a bit; for I think a Love-Letter may be very good meat, so that there be verjuice enough to it. Love take my soul! (says Lysis, that had a mind to swear after the new fashion) this is the best Droll in the world; I see, Carmelin, thou art a pleasant fellow, and I well understand thou wilt make my time shorter and less tedious to me. But hear me! in all thy jests be as careful to touch my Mistress, as thou wouldst a Deity. I am content, says Carmelin; and for your Letter, you need not trouble your brain to Philosophise upon any of these rare secrets; assure yourself I'll find means enough to deliver it to Madam Charite: This very business shall discover my ingenuity unto you. But 'tis necessary, that I be first convinced she is a person of honour I am directed to, and that all your addresses to her are for no other end then marriage, and that in the face of the Church, otherwise you must find some other to carry it; for I am as tender of my reputation as the apple of my eye. I must answer, says Clarimond in this for your Master, that he doth not send you to be his Pimp, but on a just and an honest errand. It costs not so much to call any thing by an honourable name, but since you are so subtle do your duty.  
Lysis and Carmelin left Clarimond, for our Shepherd would needs set his man a little on his way. He caused the sheep to be brought out of the fold, but wanting a Sheephook, he was not a little discontented, yet had he no mind to send to Montenors' for his own. But because he could not endure to be without one, he fell upon this pretty imagination: he found a long painted staff, which he thought fit for his purpose; and having taken a card, he tied it with a thread to the head of it. Now, as Good-luck would have it, it fell out to be the Queen of Hearts, which exceedingly pleased him; insomuch, as he did not stick to say, that nothing could better become that place, in respect it put him in perpetual remembrance of his Shepherdess, who was really the Queen of his Heart and Desires. Furnished with this Sheephook, he left Clarimonds, and with a Country man named Bertrand, sitting at his cottage door, he enquired of him, whether he could lodge him, his man, and his sheep. The man replied, Yes; and showed him his lodgings, which Lysis liked very well. He agreed with him for five groats a week, besides his promise, that for what bread and fruit he had of him, he should be paid for daily: This being concluded, he showed his man which was the way to Orontes' house; and having implored the favour and assistance of the God of Love, parted with him. He got up on a little hillock, and thence looked after him, as long as he could perceive him; but having lost the sight of him, he began to be afraid he might not do his errand; for he considered, that Charite's name was Catherine du Verger, and he was exceedingly troubled, that he had not told his servant her true name, that he might the more easily make his address to her. However, he could not repent of what he had done, when he remembered himself that he was obliged by a vow made to Love, not to name his fair dear otherwise then by the incomparable name of Charite: So that falling into the depth of Extravagancy, he persuaded himself that her name was really Charite, and that she was called so of all that knew her. As this quieted him not a little, so he fell into very cheerful thoughts; and feigned to himself, that there was no doubt but Charite would receive his Letter, and the contents thereof would be so happy, as to be the Object of her Eye, and the Subject of her Commendation.  
Mean while his Flock fed where it found any thing to feed on; and as good luck would have it, a great Dog came into the way, as it were on purpose to keep them. Lysis had so much wit, as that when he came from Clarimond's, he had furnished his Scrip with a great piece of bread, which unknown to the servants had been left out of the Bing. He threw a piece of it to the Dog; and having clapped him o'th' back and spat in's mouth, presently grew acquainted with him. So good friends they became, that Lysis made account he was fully his servant; so that he had no other care to take for him, then to give him a name worthy of both the dog and his master. This employed his whole understanding; and considering that he was to name him according to his qualities, he could not resolve whether to call him Trusty, Stout, or Watch. But all these names being common, and therefore not suiting with his humour, after profound meditation he light on this excellent one. The dog was all white, only that he had the muzzle red This fell very fit for his thoughts; so that he called him Muzedor, that is, a muzzle of gold, or a golden muzzle. I need not tell you how proud he was of this brave adventure; for he remembered that he had read in some Romances the name of Musedorus, which (setting aside the interpretation which he gave it) signifies in Greek the gift of the Muses. This brought him to such an opinion of himself, that he thought himself able to give names to as many persons as could stand in the Plains of Beausse; and conceiting himself at this happiness of invention, he thought fit to bestow a name upon every piece of his equipage. He bethought him, seeing the Knights-Errant, whom he esteemed no other than fools and madmen, took a liberty to give names to their horses and swords; that Shepherds, who were far their betters, should not be deprived the honour of giving names to their Dogs, Sheep-hooks, and Scrips. 'Twas not certain whether his Sheephook had sometime belonged to a Country-Monastery, or that Clarimond had made use of it in a Masque, wherein he represented Thyrsis: Certain it was, that it was painted green, and gilt in some places; so that Lysis thought fit to call it Green-gilt, or Gilt-green: And both those names seeming to him very proper, it raised a mighty controversy in him which he should take. Till he could absolutely decide the business, he thought best to keep both; and while he was in these thoughts, he went on still, driving his sheep before him. There was one of them broke into a Vineyard, the rest followed; and after all the Dog, who fell presently to the grapes. The Shepherd himself could not refrain, but broke his fast on them: But as he was picking up and down, not thinking what he was doing, so much was he taken up with his names, there comes a rude Churl with a halberd in his hand, and takes him by the collar, and says to him, Come your way to prison immediately, you shall pay damage for this; is it no more with you to eat what belongs to poor people? Lysis endeavoured what he could to get out of his hands; but there came up two other Country-fellows, who also laid hold on him, so that he thought it not safe to stand out any longer. What's this? says one of them, (seeing the sheep and dog) he hath brought his cattle also into the vineyard; they shall be our satisfaction. He seeing that two were enough to conduct Lysis, left him to his companions, and brought on the Flock after them: As for the Dog, he also followed barking at them that held his master. Do me the favour at least to conduct me without noise, says the Shepherd: You need not hold me, I'll go quietly, provided you'll tell me what place you intent to lodge me in, seeing you make me run so fast. Do you not see that I am a Vineyard-keeper? (says the Fellow with the halberd:) If we do not meet with out Judge to take order with you, we must put you in prison till he come. Take heed what thou dost, royal Vineyard-keeper, replies Lysis: I know not before what Judge thou wilt bring me; but know that I acknowledge none but Pan, in whatever concerns Shepherds: I will not be judged by men, nor yet by women, out of whose hands I escaped when I was Amaryllis: There are none but the Gods above me; for even when I was at St. Clou, I was myself Judge in a case between Anselm and Geneura. And as for the prison, alas! where canst thou find one narrower to put me in then that I am in already for the fair Charite? Howbeit let us go forward, to see what will be said to us.  
After this he went along with the Country fellows without any resistance. And as the Towns are very near one to the other in Brie, they had not gone a quarter of a league, but they came to certain Country-houses, out of one whereof there comes a Pettyfogger with a beard like a Goat, a nose like a Turkeycock, with white Breeches, a Doublet of black serge, and a Hat that required no great labour to be scaled. He was the Judge of the place under Hircan, who was Lord of the soil, and had all manner of jurisdiction civil and criminal in those parts.  
The Keeper perceiving him, told him how he had found Lysis in the vineyard, and what spoil he made there. But the Shepherd presently assuming the discourse. Are we not in the second Golden age? says he to him; Ought not all the fruits of the earth to be common? Besides, among Shepherds as we are, should there be any regard to Laws, which are only made for strangers?  
The Judge apprehended not any thing of all this, and was ready to pass a severe sentence against him: But as good fortune was, Hircan, who had been a hunting, passed by. Lysis having perceived him, leaped for joy, and thought that the dogs that were about him were a Kennel of Devils that assisted him. Deliver me, says he to him, out of the hands of these Savages here! when I was a Maid, a Woman judged me; and now that I am a Man, I must be be judged by a Man. This is a great dishonouring of Love, who is the King of my soul; and of Pan, who is the King of my body and goods. Hircan seeing Lysis was in a deal of trouble, commanded he should be set at liberty. They said he had eaten their grapes: But Hircan making answer that that was no great matter, they were forced to obey their Lord. Lysis having his sheep at his own disposal again, called his Dog to him, who came and fawned on him. So that seeing himself in a posture to return into the fields, he took leave of the Magician, who had so seasonably delivered him now this second time, and was infinitely pleased to have met with the opportunity to do him that courtesy.  
While he drove his Flock a feeding up and down, Carmelin had almost recovered Orontes' Castle, and asked for the Shepherdess Charite of all that he met. He could not learn any thing of her, only he was told that Orontes had had a Shepherd, but he had neither wife nor daughter. He was much troubled at this, so that he despaired to get any tidings of her. Keeping still on his way, he comes near Hircan's Wood, where Synopa and another Gentlewoman were walking. When she perceived him, she asked him whether he went, and whom he belonged to. I belong to the Shepherd Lysis, replies he, and I think my business is with you: I think you are the Shepherdess Charite: for you have there a fine Comb-case, and a fine white Apron. Synopa being very desirous to know what message Lysis sent his Mistress, resolved to abuse the man; and having affirmed to him that she was called Charite, she took him aside to know what his errand was. He freely delivered her the Letter, which she had no sooner read, but to make Lysis despair, she says to Carmelin, Return to thy master, and tell him that which he will not be glad to know, that is, that my displeasure will never end; that he hope not any favour from me, he deserves nothing but disdain: As for the Pullet he mentions, unless it be good to make a Fricassee of, I care not what become of it.  
With that she turn her back on Carmelin, who wished he had not met her, and thought it better not to carry his master any news at all, then to bring him ill. However he returns, and having found him, he simply related to him all the Shepherdess had said. What eloquence were able to express Lysis' sadness and dejection, which was without measure! But what necessity is there to speak of it, since we could not any way better describe it then by silence; a discontent which was so violent as made himself be silent for a long time, lying along on the ground as a man half dead? At length he rises up, and seeing Carmelin went here and there as if he looked for somewhat, he asked him what he wanted? I look for a Spring, where I might get some water to cast on your face, to recover you out of your swound, says Carmelin. Alas, says Lysis, wherefore goest thou so far to look for any, seest thou not there is enough running down my cheeks? Behold these tears that bathe my face, they have brought me to myself again, but it hath been only to give me the means to complain. Ah! Regret, sadness, despairs, madness, punishments, ra●●s, disquiers, lock up yourselves for ever in my mind, but on condition you lose the keys, and that you never depart thence. As for you, my little, but delightful Flock! alas, what a f●●●all while have you kept me company? how can I keep you, now that I am going to lose myself? Alas! now you may be your own keepers; if Carmelin and Musedore do not take you into their charge.  
Hereupon Carmelin endeavoured to comfort him: but seeing he did but lose his labour, he would have brought him along to Clarimond's, to see if that Gentleman might better remove his disquiet. But Lysis told him, that though he saw the day was near retiring, yet would he not stir from the place; and that he would patiently expect what it were the pleasure of the Gods to do with him. Carmelin seeing his obstinacy, went and stabled the Flock at the Coutry-mans' where they were to lodge, and returned to him with a good piece of bread, and a quarter of a pound of cheese, for to recover his spirits: but Lysis would not eat a bit, only entreated him in the name of what he loved best in the world to retire till the next morning, and to leave him there to be eaten by the wolves, if the Destinies had so ordained it. When Carmelin saw it was night, he had no mind to pass it over with him, but we●● to bed to Bertrands, being afraid to go to Clarimond's, left he should have chid him for having so ill managed his ambassage, though (to speak truth) it was no fault of his.  
The Shepherd was in a Meadow, where though he lay all the while on the ground, yet he slept not at all: He did nothing but turn himself from one side to the other, and talk sometimes to the Trees, and sometimes to the Springs, as if they had heard and could have answered him.  
The End of the Fourth Book.   

THE Anti-Romance; OR, THE HISTORY Of the SHEPHERD LYSIS.  
The Fifth Book.  
WHen it began to dawn, the disconsolate Shepherd perceiving but a weak light, imagined, that thence forward the world should have no more light than that of Aurora, from morning to night, by reason of the sadness which the heavens were in for his misfortune. But that imagination did but increase his torment; so that he was resolved to make such loud complaints, that Charite might hear them from the house where she lived, which was a good league off. Clarimond, who was wont to walk a little as soon as he was up, heard his cries, as being not far from the place; and accidentally meeting Carmelin at the same time, he learned of him the despair of his Master. They presently went both to him, whither when they were come: What, says Clarimond to him, will you continue there still? Shepherd, of what do you intent to live? Alas! replies Lysis, ask me rather what I shall die of; and I will answer you, I will die of Love. I do not hope any thing from Charite, she abhors me, and will not endure to hear me spoken of.  
Thereupon Clarimond asked Carmelin, whether Charite was so cruel in good earnest. If you had seen her when she spoke to me, replies Carmelin, you would have taken her for a Tygress in a woman's dress; but it must be withal confessed, that she was the fairest Tygress that ever was seen. Her eyes did so sparkle, that as I have heard from my Master, and other amorous persons, they seemed to be a fire; and I did really imagine that they did cast squibs and crackers at me, as the Boys use to do at midsummer. See there, Is not that it I ever believed? says Lysis, she was then possessed by that spirit of choler which is ever about her. It is long since that she hath threatened to consume me. But O ye Gods! you have ordained otherwise of me, and your Revelations this night have taught me, that your pleasure is I should be ranked among the Metamorphoses, that I might be added to those of Ovid. This is no delusion Clarimond; you might have observed, that when ever the heavens know not what to do with a man, and yet would show compassion on his sufferings; they change him into some new form. I believe it, says Clarimond; and since it must be so, let us consider how to bring about things, and we shall find all will be well. Take you such a course, as that of a disconsolate and a desperate Lover, as you are now, you may be changed into a free and contented man, that you may with as much ease slight this your ingrateful Shepherdess, as she doth you, and that will be a very excellent Metamorphoses. You do not apprehend this Mystery, replies Lysis; for instead of being changed into the contrary, the change is ever into some thing that suits with the former humour. As for example, a Thief shall be transformed into some ravenous Bird; a cozening companion, into a Fox; and a tractable person into a sheep. Now that I am upon the point of losing my former shape, I must seriously put myself into some good humour, that I may not be Metamoaphosed into some unpleasing creature. However, I have one secret shall bring me into a great esteem; and it is this, I will not take a form that any other hath already had, and my desire is, to have a Metamorphosis, that was never yet talked of.  
Carmelin had already discovered, that his Master and his senses were at a distance; but yet he did not think they were gone so far astray, as that he should imagine such gross Extravagancies. Nevertheless, seeing Clarimond seriously listening to him, and calling to mind what he had heard spoken of the ancient Metamorphoses, his piercing inginuity was at a loss what to think of it.  
Lysis having by this time made an end of sighing and sobbing, lifted up himself a little, and bid Clarimond sit by him. Well, come, says he to him, let's put the case that the Gods will give me the liberty to choose the form I am to take, what will you advise me to? for my part, says Clarimond, if your case were mine, I should wish to become a little Shock. Charite would kiss you, would trim you, would feed you out of her own hand, and you should lie with her. Do but consider a little what pleasure you should have. That's handsomely proposed, says Lysis, but there is a dog already in the house, against whom the Cats, which are at least seven or eight, are in perpetual hostility, and do often give him such clawing embraces, as he takes very unkindly. I should not be well pleased to be scratched in that manner by them. Be then Metamorposed into a Flea, replies Clarimond, you shall leap up and down her body, you shall go into the bosom of your Shepherdess, and thence a little lower, the rest I leave it to yourself to imagine. But if Charite catch me, replies the Shepherd, shall I be proof against her nails; and then what will become of poor Lysis? I am not for any of all these, I think there is nothing better than to be turned to something without life; for than no body meddles with one, but I am suffered to last as long as I can. I do not speak of Plants, for they live; I mean some sort of moveables and necessary things; as for instance, a Looking-glass, and that form I think very fit for me, for I have already Charite's picture drawn in my heart. I should represent her face as well present as absent; but withal, I would not receive any other images, and it should be in vain for others to come to look in me. Now when one is thus changed into a movable, one is not for that insensible, but the soul retires into some corner. Master, without displeasing you, says Carmelin, I have as excellent inventions on this occasion as yourself. Change yourself into a Smoke, and so you shall touch the delicate skin of your Charite, or else into some Gorget, and you shall touch her breasts, and she will wash you with her own hands! methinks it would come very seasonably, for you are grown very foul by lying on the ground to night. But a better than any is to be changed into a Knife: I'll be the Pedlar that will go and sell you to her, and she shall put you into her own sheath, and wear you at the side of her virginity: That were indeed a fair transformation! Thou hast given over to speak learnedly, Carmelin! replies Lysis: I believe the vexation thou art in to see me thus afflicted, hath caused thee some loss of wit. Thy two first Changes, methinks, are not glorious enough for me; and for the last, it is a most impertinent one, and very dangerous. Seest thou not that if I were a Knife, it might happen that I might cut the fingers of my Charite, which I should be infinitely sorry for. Do not thou interpose thy, self any more in this affair: Go immediately home, and bring away my Flock, or rather thy own, into the fields.  
Carmelin was forced to obey his Master's command. He was no sooner gone, but Hircan, who was taking a walk all alone to see his friend Clarimond, came into the very place. Being perceived by Clarimond, he said not a word, because he would not interrupt Lysis' discourse; and beside, he saw the other made signs to him to that purpose. Hircan coming softly behind the Shepherd, to frighten him a little, would needs turn his hat round; but he gave it such a turn, that he tossed it into the branches of a Willow that was over against him, where it stuck fast. Lysis being turned about towards Hircan, gave him but a slight salute, because he had no desire to laugh: He would needs have his Hat again, though he imagined himself on the point not to have any further occasion for it. As ill luck would have it, neither Clarimond nor Hircan had any stick to beat it down, and Carmelin had carried away the sheephook with him to bring the Flock abroad. The Willow-tree was somewhat high; yet he made a shift to get up, by putting his foot into some holes that age and rottenness had made in it: But as his stretched out his arm to reach his hat, he slides down suddenly and falls into the hollow of the tree, which time had so gnawn, that there was place enough for a man. There was nothing in sight of him but his head and his arms, which he stretched on both sides to take hold of two great branches; and being in this posture, he began to cry out thus: There needs no more considerations, Clarimond! the business is effected; 'tis to no purpose now to deliberate in what manner I shall be metamorphosed, it is the pleasure of my Destiny I should be changed into a Tree. O god! I feel my legs grow longer, and begin to change into roots, and spread themselves into the earth; my arms are now boughs, and my fingers branches, I already see the leaves sprouting out; my flesh and bones are changed into wood, and my skin hardens, and is changed into bark. O ye ancient Lovers, that have been Metamorphosed, I shall henceforward be of your quality, and I shall be eternally celebrated as well as you in the works of the Poets! O my dear friends who are present, receive my last farewell, I am not any more to be reckoned among men!  
Hircan and Clarimond were so amazed to hear him break out in that manner, that they knew not what to say of such an Extravagancy. At last Clarimond approaches the tree, and says to the Shepherd, Come out thence; shall I help you out? when you are once out, you'll find you are what you were always. The heavens hinder me to come hence, replies Lysis; and you may perceive the bark that ascends by little and little, and will immediately cover my mouth, so that I shall not be able to speak any more.  
Clarimond seeing this folly, thought Hircan the cause of it, and that Lysis believing him a Magican, believed withal, that he had bound him up in that tree. He therefore softly entreated him to retire; and when he was at some distance off, he did his utmost endeavour to persuade the Shepherd to come out of the place where he was, but he prevailed nothing with him; for he answered him only with sighs; and busied not his mind, but in certain imaginations, which must needs have been the most remarkable in the world. Clarimond having bestowed an hour in endeavouring to deliver him out his Extravagancy, returned home, where he found Hircan, who kept his mother company. Having broke fast together, they took horse, and went to visit Montenor and Anselm, and to acquaint them with the strange adventure of the Shepherd.  
Carmelin in the mean time, who had been gone to bring the flock abroad, began his Shepherd-apprentiship, and desirous to see his Master, drew towards the place, where he had left him. He was not a little amazed to find him in a Willow-tree; and having asked him what he did there, the Shepherd replies, that notwithstanding all the propositions of Metamorphoses that had been made before, the Gods had changed him into a tree. O Master! says Carmelin, you mistake yourself, your face is as fair as ever it was. Do but come out, and you will find you are still a man. Behold, there's your hat among the bows. I'll bring it down with my sheephook: will you not have it on your head? you'll catch cold else. Alas! that which thou takest for a man's head, is the great end of my Boal. It is not the custom to cover it, neither with hat nor nightcap, for it would hinder it to grow: I must henceforth be always in the air. Why do you believe you have no head, replies Carmelin; do I not see your hair, which is frizzled like the wool of one of our sheep? Thou art deceived friend, replies Lysis, 'tis not hair but moss. Notwithstanding this resuerie, which Carmelin could not comprehend, he beat down the hat, and made a shift to put it on his Master's head. But Lysis shruged himself so, that it fell down. You are very obstinate, says Carmelin; why will you not put on your hat, though you are become a Tree? you have your doublet and breeches on, I suppose. Alas! friend, answers Lysis, if I had had my hat on when I was Metamorphosed, I should have had it still, nor would I desire it should be taken from me but I had it not; so that now it is not fit I should wear any. My meaning is you should put it on now, because you are still a man, as well proportioned as any between this place and Paris, replies Carmelin, and I give it you not as you are tree; for if you were really one, neither should you have any need of clothes; and to prove that you are still the same Lysis, I shall bring you no other reason, then that you are still clad like a Shepherd, and that if you were a tree, you ought to to be stripped of all your clothes. Woe is me! how absurd thy reasons are, says Lysis. I see well thou speakest for thy own advantage: Thou wouldst fain take away my Shepherd's habit, that thou mightst go and sell it in the Brokery at Paris, and advance thyself by what thou spoilest me of; but assure thyself, thou shalt never have it. It's become part of myself, and it is now nothing but a thick bark, which is upon my skin; which being a more tender one, is covered with this, as thou mayest ordinarily observe in trees. Upon such skins the ancients wrote, before the invention of paper: Yet I do not tell thee this, to the end thou shouldst come and disbark me for to write Letters to thy Mistress. I am a sacred Tree, which may not be touched, but by the Gods and Charite, and it is principally to the service of that fair one, that I am devoted. She may come and grave her characters upon my trunk: I will suffer it without groaning. I understand not all this, replies Carmelin: though you yourself should be changed, I shall never believe that your clothes are so too; for what have they to do with your Loves? have they received ill entertainment from some Shepherdess? Thou understandest not the Divine secrets, says Lysis; if thou hadst, read Ovid, who is the most famous Divine among the Poets, thou mightst have learned, that the clothes are ever Metamorphosed, as well as the body: and when he speaks of a man changed into a Flower, a Spring, or a Bird, he doth not say he was stripped beforehand. Nay, when Atlas was changed into a Mountain, his long gown, that had many folds, made many descents and stony eminences therein. Read good Authors, and thou wilt importune me less with thy foolish demands. I am almost persuaded of all this; but that which troubles me most, and indeed makes me speak so much, says Carmelin, is, that I must now quit all the hopes I had of you. I shall not enjoy those pleasures with you, which you promised me I should. That's it will make me grieve a good while.  
Hereupon Carmelin made many complaints, which were very natural; for his wit lay in such a way, that it might seem he came into the world to no other end, but to make others laugh; and abating ten or a dozen sentences out of Common-places, which he had learned as a bird in cage, he knew nothing but a kind of rustic scurrility, wherein he was sharp enough. He spoke enough to have moved his Master, but Love had so disturbed his brains, that he could not approve any thing, but his own imaginations. Two or three hours slipped away in their entertainment; and at length there comes Anselm, Montenor and Clarimond, who had made haste to dine, for to come and see Lysis. As for Hircan, he had been entreated to go home, lest his presence might be a torment to that poor Shepherd. They began to remonstrate to him, that it was worse than to be hypo condriack, for him to imagine as he did, himself changed into a tree, when he was as much a man as any of them. When they saw he persisted in his opinion, they bid the Lacquays fetch some stools, on which when they were gotten, they endeavoured by force to pull him out of the Willow, seeing he would not come out by fair means. That made him cleave faster to the boughs then before, and cry out so loud, that Musedor, that was still with Carmelin, began to bark at those that drew him. Ah! faithful Dog, says Lysis, thou hast that sympathy in thee, that though I am not a man thou knowest me. Take example by him, you that have sometimes been my friends; have at least as much compassion on me as he. Will you own less pity than a beast? Persecute me no more.  
After this complaint, he cries out louder than at first, and kept himself still so fast to the tree, that they considered they should rather pull off his arms, then get him out of the place, for he was possessed with such a fury, as made him mighty strong. His good friends were loath to hurt him, and so gave over, to bethink them of some better invention for to get him out of the tree. They sent for a faggot, and set it a fire near the Willow, as if they intended to burn it. That did nothing, but make him double his complaints, and cry out as if he already felt the flame, and think it impossible ever to come out. When they perceived that the smoke blinded him, they caused the fire to put out; and Clarimond having called for a Wood-feller, he bid him cut down the Willow, seeing Lysis would not out. At the first blow of the Axe, the Shepherd gave a shreak, that I believe might have been heard three leagues about; and afterward spoke thus, Ah! impious fellow, what dost thou? I am a tree consecrated to Diana. Iron never did me any violence; I was as pure a Virgin as my Goddess. Fearest thou not a clap of thunder will consume thee? Let live a poor Shepherd under this bark, he doth thee no hurt here.  
Upon that, Clarimond bethought him to ask him, What Shepherd! have you forgotten what you said to me erewhiles? you affirmed to me, that the bark was ascending over your mouth, and that you should speak no more, and now we see the quite contrary. If you are a Tree, you should not speak; the other Trees hereabouts say nothing at all. Dost not thou also perceive that I am an extraordinary Tree? replies Lysis, I am not like my neighbours; I am a Prophet, like those Trees in Dodona's Grove; and that is the reason the Gods have continued me the use of my voice: Ask me any thing, I shall make thee a pertinent answer. This place shall henceforth be more frequented than the Temple of Apollo, and I shall be an Oracle to all the world. For my part, I shall ask you but one thing Master, says Carmelin, for any thing else I shall never trouble your faculty of Divination. Since you know what's to come, tell me how long you will yet continue Mr. Tree. I believe all the company is as desirous to know it as I: I shall be a Tree as long as it please the Gods, answers Lysis; and if thou think I do not satisfy thee fully, take this particular secret, that all those whose business it is to foretell things, know all things, but what shall happen to themselves; and this ought not to seem strange, for Fate hath so ordained it, that it might have a Prerogative over men for to abate the Presumption, which otherwise were likely to possess their minds.  
Anselm seeing Lysis persisted still in his Error, was much trouble; for he had rather have seen him in his frolic humours, that he might have brought him back to Orontes' Leonora was a woman so reserved, that he could not speak with her when ever he desired, nor yet with her daughter. The Extravagancies of Lysis which were some recreation to those Ladies, had been very serviceable to him, and had procured him many entertainments: So that he did his utmost to persuade him to live as he had done before: What will you do within this tree, says he to him? who'll come so far to bring you any thing to eat? Do you think I'll take the pains? Alas! Trees eat not, replies Lysis; on the contrary, they give much food to men: Prithee trouble not thyself any further about that. When thou thinkst to oblige me, thou dost the contrary. I have been angry enough with thee, for telling me this Country was Forests; but now I pardon it, and I believe all hath been done by an express fatality. All these words will not fill your belly, says Carmelin; do you hope to live by air, and suck in the mind that passes by? I do not think you have eaten any thing these two days; for yesterday you took only a piece of bread in your scrip, which was no more than would have sufficed your Dog. Away, away, tell me not on't: An empty Belly, and a hollow Brainpan go together.  
All wondered at what Carmelin said; and Clarimond pitying the Shepherd, who had fasted so long, sent home for some meat for him. His Mother, who was exceedingly charitable, and had heard talk of Lysis' madness, came thither herself for to make him eat; but all her Remonstrances were to no purpose. 'Twas pleasant to hear the reasons which the Shepherd brought her to prove he was a Tree. Anselm and Montenor could not but laugh at it, which so troubled the good woman, that she was forced to tell them that it was more Christianlike to pity a poor man, then to laugh at him. For to appease her a little, they also endeavoured to make Lysis eat; and coming at last to foul means, seeing they could do nothing by fair, they caused his teeth to be opened with a stick, and thrust in a little meat into his mouth, but he presently spat it in their faces. Clarimond, who was a piercing wit, says thereupon to him, Mr. Willow, if you cannot eat, will you not drink somewhat? I have brought along with me an excellent drink, it is as good as Nectar of the first pressure. Trees neither eat nor drink I tell you, replies Lysis: shall I never persuade you to't? How are you now mistaken, replies? Clarimond; how could the Plants grow, if they were not watered? I'll give you leave to water me, says the Willow, but it must be at my root; and besides, you must only make use of clear water. Wine will do better, replies Clarimond, it's a secret that all Gardeners know not; nay, I will cast it above, and it shall moisten you so much the more: Know you not, that the rain falls strait down on the tops of the trees.  
Clarimond having said so, would improve the occasion, believing he had already prevailed with Lysis to drink: He got upon a stool, and put into his mouth a tunnel he had sent for; which done, Champagne pours into it at least three pints of wine. The Willow was very well content to swallow it; and said to Clarimond, I must needs confess, dear friend, that thou knowest well how to order Plants. My pith is all moistened by this liquor thou hast given me; and my sap, which is the radical moisture of trees, is made much more vigorous thereby. I told you so, answers Clarimond, I will now give you a taste of another brevidge, that is more nutritive. Having said so, he softly spoke to Champagne to go and see if there were not some good broth at his house ready. The Lackey returns presently with some Pompionpottage, that had been made for the Ploughmen. They gave him that also through the tunnel; and when ever the bread that had been crumed in it would not pass through, they forced it down with a little stick, as if they had been charging a piece of Ordnance. The Willow received all very quietly; for though he believed that trees should not eat, yet his belly told him the contrary; and as it was not much accessary to his follies, so was it well pleased it had gotten somewhat to feed on: When all was done, and that the tunnel was taken from his mouth, he breathed three or four times, as not being able to have contained any longer, the passage of respiration having been so long stopped. At length, says he to Clarimond, this second watering is not so liquid as the first, and yet I must confess it is not the worse for it. Now you are furnished till to morrow, says Clarimond; but I beg it of the Gods, that you may shortly live after another manner among men.  
Having so said, he considered, that to prevail any thing with Lysis, all must be done by fair means and artifice as he had done, and that he might not be disquieted any further, his advice was, that all should retire. They all supped at his house, and in the mean time Carmelin, who had been left alone with his Master, seeing the night come on, asked him whether he would come away and lodge in some house, since that the night before he had not rested much, had lain in the fields. And where hast thou ever seen beds made ready for trees? answers the Shepherd-Willow. It would be a fine sight to see me a-bed between two sheets with my earthly roots, my back covered over with moss, and my leafy branches. But if I should have a mind to lie down, thinkst thou I could do it? Must I not always stand upright? Seeing you would have me imagine that you are a tree, I am content it should be so, replies Carmelin; but tell me, why did you not order your change so, as that you might have been some more delightful, and more useful tree than you now are? you are of those wretched Willow trees, which are good for nothing but to bind Hoops about with, and make Baskets of. It had been much better to have been some good Pear-tree: When you had been cut down, men would have made of your wood stately chairs, whereon Kings and Precedents would have sat; and you might have born good Pears, which I would have carried to your Mistress. Thou dost but thread impertinences together, Carmelin, replies Lysis; for besides that thou corruptest my name, thou dost most unworthily despise me, by saying I should be good for nothing; for that is my happiness; and though my wood were the fairest in the world, yet ought it not to be cut, because it were no other than the maiming of my limbs, and the committing of a signal murder: Whoever shall touch me, deserves a halter, as much as if he had massacred the true Shepherd Lysis. As for the fruit thou wouldst have me bear, whereof Charite should eat, it's an argument of thy little wit; for if that fair one hate me, she will not eat any thing comes from me, besides that I should have the misfortune to be tasted by others as well as she, which would be a great discontent to me. Seest thou, Carmelin, all the good I hope is, that my Shepherdess may come one day into this place with her companions, and that they will dance about me a poor and desolate willow, and sing every one a song. I shall answer them first by the shaking of my leaves, than I will bow down my boughs to the ground in reverence of Charite; and lastly, I will make such a sad complaint to her, that she shall be moved with compassion. Do you believe she'll take you for a tree? says Carmelin: for I assure you, the Gentlemen who are newly gone hence, and are your very good friends, laugh in good earnest at it, and you have perceived it yourself. For my part, I have heard them say, that you imagined yourself still in those Pagan times, wherein it was an article of faith to believe all your Metaphorimoses, (I know not how you call those Engines) and that thence proceeds all your hurt. Get thee gone, or hold thy peace, replies Lysis: For I will bend one of my biggest boughs, and discharge it over thy shoulders so effectually, that I shall send thee into the other world. Neither thou, nor those thou speakest of understand these sacred mysteries. Come hither, hear me, seeing thou seem'st to be tractable: Is the arm of the Gods shortened since the time of the ancient Greeks, who have written such rare things of them? If it hath been seen heretofore that men have been changed into Trees, why may it not happen now as well? Are there none but the Authors of old, that have seen and mentioned such things? Let men read th' Endymion, a book of no great standing, and they shall find Hermodan, who had the honour to be a Shepherd as myself, metamorphosed into a wild Olive-tree, and his Shepherdess Diophani● changed into a Myrtle-tree. I have read their history, and it is commended and approved by all the world: When any shall speak of me, confute them with that authority.  
While the Willow was in this discourse, the heavens began to be dark of all sides, both because the Sun was passed into the other hemisphere, and by reason a many clouds gathered together from all parts. Carmelin seeing that, bid his master good night, that he might lodge the Flock. Musidore followed him wittingly; for he was such a friendly Cur, that he was for him that gave him most; and since Lysis had not given him any bread, he stuck to his servant who provided for him. The Shepherd Carmelin was no sooner come to his lodging, but it reigned very heavily, so that he was sore troubled for his master. Yet could he not pity him, when he considered that no hurt happened to him, whereof he was not himself the cause.  
The Tree wherein Lysis was, had the boughs so scattered, that it gave him not the least shelter. The water that quickly got through his thin clothes, was soon felt, though he imagined himself within a Bark. No mad imagination could divert him now; but he must quit the boughs whereto he had been fastened all the time, and shrunk himself down as low as he could possibly. In the midst of his hypocondriac imaginations he said in himself, That indeed a watering like that in the afternoon was not to be refused; but that as for this he had received then, he was not pleased with it, excess being ever hurtful. He was afraid his wood might rot away, if it reigned long in that manner; and he thought it but reason that such fair Trees as he should not be left desolate in the fields; and that if they could not be transplanted into houses during foul weather, 'twere fit there were certain Cales made them. This brought him into a little indignation, that he was not a Tree in the Garden of some great Prince, who covered his Grove with slate, with glass-windows in it. That seemed a very good way to him, for the convenience of such Trees as himself. But the ill luck was, he was bareheaded; and though his mind was much perplexed, yet he could not but think of his Hat, which Carmelin had carried away with him, seeing he would not put it on. It had done him a courtesy then. At length the heavens having pity on this poor Fool, left off pouring water on his head: The clouds were dispersed, and he had leisure enough to dry his clothes by his own natural hear.  
In the mean time Montenor, Anselm, and Clarimond having sent for Carmelin, learned of him how he had left his Master, and where he was; and resolved not to trouble him, to see what would come of it, and whether he might have the patience to be there all night. They lay that night in the Castle where they were: but as for Carmelin, he would needs go home to his Host. The good man wondering to see him return without Lysis, as he had done the night before, asked him where he was. He told him he was changed into a Tree, or that he imagined he was so: whereat he was wonderfully astonished. He enquired of him further, out of what design they kept sheep. Carmelin answered, There was no hurt in that; but that if the question were asked his master, he would give a better account of it then he could. Bertrand receiving no better satisfaction, he and his family went quietly to bed, and the Shepherd apprentice did the like.  
About three hours after, it being very fair weather, the Moon began to shine very bright; and Lysis looking on her, saluted her in these words: Thou art welcome, fair Diana with the silver-forehead; whither runnest thou so fast? Art thou pricked forward by some new Love? Methinks in this silence I hear from this place the smack of the whip wherewith thou dost so sprightfully drive thy horses; thou wouldst in a manner make them go post. Stay a little for to behold the fortune which is befallen to a poor Shepherd.  
As the Shepherd ended these words, he saw three Nymphs come out from between the trees of a Thicket hard by; and if they were not such, he at least thought them such. The first was clothed in a mantle of Canvas silvered over, and the two other with white Fustian. While they came still nearer and nearer him, Fair Hamadryads! says the most visible amongst them, do me one favour; tell me one thing I desire much to be assured of: Is it true, that the Shepherd Lysis was yesterday metamorphosed into a Tree? There's nothing more certain, replies one of them; and we are infinitely happy to have him our brother: He was the Phoenix of all Lovers, the glory of his age, and the object of the vows of all Shepherdesses.  
The solitude of the place, the words of the Nymphs, and the glistering of their clothes in the moonshine, ravished the Shepherd into admiration; his eyes were as much charmed as his ears. What addition to his ecstasy was it to hear the shining Nymph continue thus: Can I by no means know in what place remains this happy Tree, which increases the number of those of this Country? We are just at it, answers the other: Do you not perceive that Willow, which I do not remember I ever saw before in that place? shall we go thither? Synopa, we will speak to our Brother, and know how he does: And he'll tell us how he finds himself, since he hath changed his nature. 'Tis a noble curiosity, replies the first Nymph: let us go, it may be he will be displeased to see me.  
Lysis having heard Synopa named, was much amazed, and by her speech he knew she was the naiad of the Magician Hircan. The Nymphs by this time being come near him, one of the Hamadryads said to him, Alas! dear Brother, what do you there all alone? will you not enjoy the pleasure of the season? Come out thence, and recreate yourself with us. What ever you are fair Nymphs, answers the Shepherd Willow, pardon me, if I cannot go with you; for my Destiny hath so disposed of me, that I cannot come hence. You are mistaken, replies the Hamadryad, I have been a Shepherdess as well as you have been a Shepherd, and I am now metamorphosed into a Tree as you are, but I keep within my bark but only the day. We must recreate out selves in the night. I'll never believe that, if you bring me not an authority for it. That you shall have enough, says Synopa, have you not observed in the Ode, that Philip Desportes hath made of a Country life, that when the Sun gives place to the Moon, the Nymphs meet together in the Woods, and dance and jig it, and get green gowns? 'Tis a Poet of reputation, will you not believe him? I do believe him, says Lysis, but he speaks only of Nymphs, he doth not mention Demigods. They are understood, says Synopa; for would you have us dance alone? we must needs have some males among us. If we have not you, and such as you are, we must be forced to take in the Satyrs into our company. And what would you do there; grow wild again? 'Tis true, in the day time you dare not venture out, lest your Divinity might be seen of men; but in the night, that all the world's asleep, you must take your time to be merry, and tread the grass and your cares under your feet. There are thickets hereabouts, where there are always Dryads, and Hamadryads, naiads and Napeans, 'tis thither you must go along with us.  
Lysis hearing this, believed all the Nymph said was true; and as there is nothing sooner brings fools to see reason, then suffering; the inconvenience he found to be so long in the hollow of a tree, persuaded him it would not be amiss to go out for a while. He was fain to put his whole strength to wind himself up, and at length he delivered himself out of captivity, and leaped down. My dear Sisters, quoth he to the Nymphs, if I sin, the Gods pardon me, for your persuasions are the cause of my offence. Fear nothing, says Synopa to him, assure yourself, you'll find nothing but what shall please you among us. But Sisters, says she to the others, shall we go and seek out some private retreats, where we may not fear the ambushes of the Satyrs. I do not know any hereabouts, replies the Hamadryad, and we have Lysis for our Protector. Let's go courageously to a little Meadow hard by; having said so, they three went on apace, and left Lysis to follow, which he did with much ado, for his legs were grown so stiff, having been so long locked up, that when they were come to the Meadow, he sat him down on the grass, and the Nymphs about him. While he was yet giving his thanks to Synopa, that she had remembered him, he hears a certain harmony, that made him prick up his ears, as a Cat that hears a Mouse cry: It was a Lute, very unhandsomely set to the violin; but a little after the violin ceased and there was only heard the Lute and a Voice together, which made very excellent music. The Air was one that had been made in a Mask, presented lately to the King by certain naiads. Lysis hearing it, had the curiosity to inquire who the Musician was: You shall see, it is the God of the River Morin, says Synopa to him; it must needs be he that plays on the Lute, for he plays excellently well on it. As for her that sings, it is a Nymph of a Fountain hard by, called Lucida; and for him that plays on the Violin, it is a Forrest-Demi-god, who of a Shepherd was, as you are, changed into a tree. We shall have good company to night, I warrant you, and good sport withal.  
As Synopa ended these words, the three persons she spoke of came, and made it appear she was not mistaken. The God Morin had a Beard to his Girdle, and Hair hanging down over his Shoulders, with a Crown of Reeds on his Head. He had on a Waistcoat and Breeches like a Seaman, of white Canvas; as those Fishermen at Paris who catch Eels, on their greatest Feast-day. As for him that played on the Violin, he had on a grey Suit, like a Country man; and the Nymph of the Fountain Lucida, was in silvered Canvas like Synopa. These two naiads embraced and kissed one the other when they met; which done, Synopa turning to Morin, Father, says she, behold, here's a time invites us to dance, it is so clear and calm. 'Tis true, it reigned a little a while since; but as for us Divinities of the Waters, it hurts us not; our channels are filled by that means. The God of the River falls presently a snoring like a Swine; whereat Lysis wondering, pulls Synopa by the fleeve, and asked her what language the Gods spoke. 'Tis the language of the River, replies Synopa, there can none understand him but the Fish and the naiads: 'Tis great pity, says Lysis, that a God of his age hath not learned to speak French, What do you wonder at, replies Synopa, he must submit to his destiny. There are also other Gods, who partaking of the disposition of their hosts, are as mute as Carp: But this doth not commonly make much noise, because he would imitate his own waters, which run slowly, and seem as if they were asleep, like those of the Lakes: but this hinders not but that he can play excellently well on any musical instruments, and dance.  
While the Nymph h●ld this discourse, the God of the River very seriously viewed the Hamadryads, as if he had never seen them before: So that Synopa went of a sudden, and said to him, What do you dream on Father, that you do not see a new Demigod that's here among us? Here is he that sometimes was the Shepherd Lysis: he was the glory of your Banks: he is now a Willow, and you ought to love him on that account, seeing there are no other trees on your Banks. The God of the River made a sign with his head, and went and embraced Lysis; but he gave him such a hug, that Lysis cried out, O dumb God says he, dost thou express by thy arms that which thou canst not with thy tongue? let me go, I shall burst else, thou crushest my wood; wilt thou make it as small as sawdust? In saying so, he gave such a jerk, that he got out of the hands of the God; and went and told Synopa, that he had rather lose the friendship of all the world, then meet with many such Salutations. But when Synopa had told him that the rudeness of that God was to be excused as to his embraces, and that in other things he was very good company, he was appeased; and the Hamadryads having made the motion of passing the time in dancing, he was ready to make one. The whole company making a round, the Nymph Lucida sung a Song, and afterwards the Hamadryads did every one the like. When it came to Synopa, she sung a kissing Song; and being near Lysis, says to him; 
Gentle Willow come and dance,  
And with arms akembo prance;  
Take her whose beauty you must prise,  
And freely kiss her eyes  
In whose sweet face most Beauty lies.   
He goes in among them, and looking very big about him; It matters not, saith he, where I kiss her I shall choose; the Poet that made that Song, hath not said eyes, but for rhyme sake. After this he goes and addresses his Compliments to an Hamadryad, and kissed her with a good will: And you are to note, that he did it with an amorous subtlety, that seemed to him very excellent. He shut his eyes in the action, so to deceive himself, and imagine that he kissed Charite: But he found himself deceived more than he thought, for that Nymph was of such a rough flesh, that she had almost grated the skin off his lips, whereas in his opinion, his Mistress was of more tender complexion. Being come to his own place again, he whispers to Synopa, saying, I will not kiss any more these Hamadryads, there's no pleasure in it. It is soon discovered they are wooden Nymphs, their skin is as rough as the bark of a tree.  
Synopa smiled to hear him; and when she had sung in her turn, she went and gave him a kiss which pleased him better: Ha! says he to himself, how soft and tender are these Nymphs of the waters, in comparison of those rugged Hamadryads. I must avow, that this last kiss hath taken away the hurt, which I had received by the other. He thought there was a great deal of pleasure to sport it so innocently; and yet he wondered how it came to pass, that Nymphs of reputation, and Hamadryads so stately and gallant, amused themselves to sing such Songs as Country-Chamber-maids do. There was but the Musician Lucida who sang another kissing Song, which was very well composed, and pleased him much. Being desirous to taste of all sorts of meat, he went and kissed the Nymph that sang, and was more satisfied, then with Synopa; because it seemed to him, that she was yet of a softer complexion, and handsomer. This raised him into so good an humour, that he would have been content to do nothing else all his life. But one of the Hamadryads presently began another Song which was very ridiculous, and wherein they made him dance so much, that he was quite tired. Morin, because he sang not, did instead thereof caper it in very strange postures.  
At length every one being weary, they all lay down on the grass; where Lysis having taken breath a while, addressed himself to all the company in these words. Ye great Divinities of this Country, since that Fate hath decreed my abode among you, I should wish the honour of your more particular acquaintance, to the end that when ever I shall see you, I may not so far forget myself, as not to render you the civilities which are due unto you. Therefore now that we have the leisure, tell me, if sometime you have not been something different from what you are now; and what hath been the occasion of your Metamorphoses. Divine Willow, says Synopa, your demand is so just, that here is not any present, that would not be willing to give you satisfaction. The God Morin himself would have been glad, if he could have distinctly spoken, that you might have had the History of his fortunes from his own mouth. He is known by the shaking of his head, and the noise that comes out of his throat, whereby he signifies his consent to any thing. Because he cannot, I shall tell you what you desire to know of him.  

The Fable of the God Morin, and of the River of Marne.  
IT was a long time before Pharamont became King of France, that Brie had a King, the number of whose virtues was equal of that of his Subjects: His name was Brisefer, and his Son was called Morin, who is this honest God whom you see. Now there passed through this Country the little Niece of a Fairy, who at her birth had had two gifts; that of Beauty, and that of Metamorphoses. If she had a design to bewitch a man, she had no more to do but to show him her natural countenance; which when she had done, she put on what form she pleased, as if her body had been made of soft clay: She wandered about the world purchasing of hearts; and all she got by her amorous looks, she put them into a great Apron made like a Purse, that she had about her. Morin had no sooner seen Marne (so was the Nymph called) but she drew from him those sighs that would have been able to make a ship sail; and in testimony of his love, he made a deed of gift of his heart to her, in the presence of the Notaries of Cupid's Kingdom. She fastened this great heart of his to a part of her Girdle, and made it afterward her Pin-cushion, which was a great torment to him; for she would be ever and anon thrusting of pins into it. Yet her new Lover would have taken this Martyrdom as supportable, had she but accepted his services. But as he spoke to her of it, being one day standing by her, she made no more account of him, nor indeed was he any more in comparison of her, than the sheath of a knife hanging by her side: For you are to know, that she was of a Giant stature; however, she was not esteemed the less for that, because if a thing be good, and fair, and pleasant, it is so much the better if it be great; and there is no man so foolish, but he had rather have a great Capon then a little one: So you are to believe, that if she had great cheeks, and great breasts, she had by so much the more Lilies, Roses, and Pinks; and if her eyes were as large as Bucklers, they were so much the more convenient for her Lovers to behold themselves in. There was no calumny could obscure her glory, there was no default could be objected against her but her cruelty. The truth is, she was somewhat touched with that vice; and as she never boiled her Kettle, but with the fire of the affections she had inflamed; so did she never wash her hands, but in the tears of her Lovers. You might see every morning her Chambermaid standing at her door, holding a great Tray, whereinto those poor wretches went and poured their tears, that there might not be want of that water, and sometimes the cruel one went and held her own murdering hands under. Morin was one of the first that paid her this duty, yet she regarded him no more than the last years snow. He therefore resolved to get that by force, which he could not by fair means; and being powerful in his father's Kingdom, he got a great number of Soldiers about Marn's house, who made so many works and palisadoes about it, that it was thought she could not get away without his leave. He enters into the Nymphs Court, where she was walking all alone; but when he thought to embrace her, he was much amazed that she vanished away. He searched for her all about, and could find nothing but a spacious Quadrangle, which to his observation had ever before been covered with dry earth, but now was carpeted with grass. That gave him occasion to imagine it was the fair Marn had been so Metamorphosed; and being desirous to enjoy her any way, he went into the house to look for a sickle to cut that grass. Being returned with one in his hand, he finds the place dry as before, and found nothing in the Court but a Sheep. Woe is me! says he, is't this sheep that hath eaten up my grass? how proud she is to have my Mistress in its belly! should I adore or punish it? But before I resolve, I'll go and see my soldiers. He had no sooner turned his back, but he bethought him that it were a sin to pardon the sheep. But turning himself back, he saw a Wolf in stead of it, whereat he was extremely vexed, believing that creature had devoured the other. Now it was nothing but Marne, who to avoid the dangers wherewith he threatened her, changed herself from grass to a sheep, and from a sheep to a wolf. At last he suspected some such thing; but desirous still to enjoy her, he endeavoured to surprise the beast, offering it a piece of flesh, and prevailed so far, that he put a chain about her neck, and tied hen up in the stable. He by this time thought himself sure of what he desired, and that he should now enjoy his Mistress whether she would or no. But the whole edifice immediately took fire, and was all burnt in an instant. It was to no purpose to cast water on, the flame was never the more quenched, nay it lasted after all the combustible matter was spent, nor was there any more Wolf to be seen.  
Morin seeing this, could not bethink him of any better invention then to put on a Cassock of Stone-allum, which had been a Priests in the time of his ancestors, wherein he was able to endure in the midst of the flames without being burned, that so he might embrace his Mistress: But as he was going to accomplish his design, he could see nothing but a great River. Wretch that I am! says he, this water hath quenched my amiable fire. And thereupon casts himself headlong into it: but finding no satisfaction that way, and being in danger to be drowned because he could not swim well, he came out presently, and contented himself to take his Lute and play mournful airs upon her banks. The water ran perpetually, and was disgorged into the Seine: For from that time the Gods being offended with Marne, who had disdained so faithful a Lover, seeing she was changed into a River, ordained that she should always continue so, and there put an end to her metamorphoses. Morin advertised of the decree of the Gods by one of their Priests, was so transported with disquiet and despair, that he lay down all along on the ground, and began to distil into tears; He wept in such abundance, that his tears became a little River. The Gods having compassion on him, made him subject to the same decree as his Mistress; so that whereas the other Gods of Rivers have Pitchers under their arms, out of which flows their water, it is pleasant to see how his issues at his eyes. Having spent all his moisture to supply his source, he had the liberty to wander in his own channel, which from that time disburdened itself into Marne, to the end that if they have been asunder while they were in a mortal condition, they might be joined together now that they are immortal. But the brave Morin doth no longer remember his sorrows past; and seeing that Marne doth no more respect him now then she did before, and that she is always with the God of the Seine, whom she loves better than him, he takes as much pleasure to be with us as with her; and if he hath lost the use of his voice, that loss is recompensed by the melody of his Lute which he hath kept still.   
As Synopa thus ended her story, the God of the River made a deep confused noise two or three times: which gave her occasion to say to Lysis, See how he approves what I have said by his noise. Now that I have given you his history, and that I am in the good humour, I must also give you my own, which I had not the opportunity to tell you when you saw me at Hircan's. It shall not be so long as to weary you. Make it as long as you please, replies Lysis; my ears are fastened to your mouth; and that with as much sweetness and delight, as if it were Orpheus that played over the same airs on his Harp, as he did when he drew after him the Trees, my Ancestors and Predecessors.  

The Fable of the Fountain Synopa.  
KNow then Lysis, replies Synopa, that I am the daughter of a Duke of Burgundy, who promised me no meaner a match then a King of FRANCE; but for all he could do, I would not submit to the yoke of a marriage, which did not any ways please me. I was much inclined to hunting, and I was ever in the woods sometimes, with a Javelin, and sometimes with a bow and arrows. Diana having heard talk of me, invited me to be of the choir of her Nymphs; and taking an affection to me, she gave me one of the chiefest places about her person, which was to give her Dog's meat. Having my hand on her Altar, I solemnly swore, I would observe chastity as long as I lived, but I have since had much ado to keep myself from breaking this oath: For I was passionately courted by an Earl of Champagne, who being come to my father's Court, gave me so many assaults, that he was sometimes upon the very point of storming my honour: he protested I had brought him into that slavery, that he adored whatever had relation to me; and confessed himself a slave to the fleas of my Greyhounds. He suffered so many torments for my sake, that he purposely learned Arithmetic, that he might give me the number of them; and playing with me one evening at picquet, he took the counters and reckoned them, and the total sum came to three hundred thousand, six hundred twenty six and a half, not counting the smaller sorrows and cares of less consequence. This was an excellent invention, and if the Lovers of this age had it, there should be but a few Mistresses which should be tripped down, and fall with their faces upward. Yet presently calling to mind my vow, I continued as firm as a rock, and brought my Lover to such a despair, that he swore he would cast himself headlong from some mountain, if he should meet with one high enough. His last recourse was to writing, and he sent me so many Letters, that he made paper dear in the Country; and continued his addresses, till the Solicitors and Pettifoggers petitioned against him. I made no other thread (so little did I regard them) of all his Missives, then to wind up thread on, or to wrap up a piece of wild Boar in, if I had a mind to present some Neighbour or Gossip, when I was come home from hunting. Diana being advertised of his continual applications to me, caused me to be bathed in a certain fountain of hers, which hath a propriety to make those that go into it all Ice, if they wash but three times in it: so that being fortified with coldness, his sighs could not inflame me. But to remedy this, he goes into a certain Temple of Love, that was near his own abode: The Priests of the place had in their custody a certain fire, that was so powerful, that nothing could stand against it. This devout Pilgrim made so many prayers to the Divinity of the place, that at length he merited so far, as that he obtained a little beam of that flame, which he made fast in a box of Diamond. He came to see me with this treasure, and finding me in a Wood, tired out with hunting, and sitting on a pile of faggots, he cast his fire on me, believing he should warm me in spite of my teeth: And indeed the truth is, the heat was but too violent, for I presently began to melt; and as I was nothing but ice before, I was turned into water, and watered all the fields about. The Gods touched with my disaster, ordained, I should thenceforth be a Fountain, as I am still. But now that I am an immortal Nymph, I am dispensed of that vow I had made when I was a mortal maid; and I am not obliged to chastity, any further than I will myself: So that the Magician Hircan being in love with me, I have suffered myself to be overcome by his charms, and have lived with him a certain time fully and honourably. But having left him to day, and taken my own liberty, I may henceforward be married to Lysis, if so be he will consent thereto: And though my waters are far from this Country, yet I will bring them into this place, for to water the root of his fair tree.   
Here Synopa broke off, as if modesty and love had hindered the passage of her voice. All admired the discourses she had entertained them withal: but there needed not that admiration, for she had suited them to certain Fables which she had read. Lysis was ravished to hear her, and thought all very well but the Marriage she had mentioned; for having kissed Lucida last, the kiss remained still on his lips, and had made him forget hers. Somewhat there was, I know not what, that he could not affect Synopa as much as this Lucida, towards whom he ever directed his eyes. Nor did he stick a little after to speak to her, quitting the other, and earnestly entreated her to relate her story; which however must only pass for a fable  

The Fable of the Fountain Lucida.  
seeing you are desirous to have the relation of my fortune, says Lucida, know that I am daughter to a Lord of this Country; and that since I was fifteen years of age, I fell in love with one of his Gentlemen. He was so beautiful, that he had never seen his like but in a glass: His hair was curled like a Holland Water-Spaniel, and his countenance had as much vermilion as a Rose of Provence. All he did was with such a grace, that if he played on the Lute, I took him for Apollo the younger; and if he shot with a bow, I took him for Cupid the elder, for his beard was already sprouted out. His attractions were so powerful over me, that being one day near a Table which was very dusty, with my finger I writ thereon, that Lucida was dying for him. But the Gallant regarded it not; and having sworn to me that he could not love me, it was such an affliction to me, that I sickened on't and kept my bed. The Love-feaver took me so violently, that I did nothing but drink night and day, so that my disease turned to a Dropsy, and I became as big as a Ton. All the Physicians in the Country that visited me were at a loss of their Latin; but when they had all given me over, there was a knowing Chemist made me take an excellent powder: That made me piss so much, that there issued out of my body great brooks, and then it was that the Gods bethought them to change me into a Fountain. I do still piss at certain times into the Cistern of my source, that it may not dry up; and so I shall piss to the end of the world, and yet shall never be empty.   
I find no difficulty in this Metamorphosis, says Lysis; for your body continues in the same being as to its form, but not as to its nature, which is become immortal; and as concerning your Urine, it hath only been changed to Fountain-water. But when I consider the adventure of Synopa, I cannot so easily understand it: For she says, that being all Ice, the fire dissolved her: If it be so, how is it that she hath a body still? Yet we see it is so; and the Gods not having discovered the secret to her no more than they let children know what way they have been form in their mother's belly, the poor Nymph hath given us no account of it. But I'll explain it to her. The reason is, because the Gods, when they have metamorphosed a humane body into a Fountain, dispose the soul into another body which is composed of aquatic vapours. There was never any Poet, nor other that hath commented on any of them, ever imagined this, though they attribute bodies to the Deities of the waters; and this is the reason they have left us in so much ambiguity. Nor may I be afraid to boast that I am guilty of as learned considerations, that if a God came now down on earth, I should not court him for excellent imaginations.  
I am very much obliged to you for so excellent an instruction, says Sinopa: in recompense whereof, seeing you cannot see my abode, be pleased to see Lucida's. That shall be when ever you are disposed, replies Lysis. Let's go presently, says Lucida, it's very good being there; I'll show you the way. Having said so, they all rise up, and having crossed certain meadows and thickets, this noble Company came to a Brook which ran between two valleys. The God of the River, and the Nymphs having taken up their coats, went into the water, which came up to half the leg, and Lysis was obliged to do as much: He sometimes complained that he was forced to go in that manner: but Lucida, who led him, excused his want of courage, saying that he who was not a God of a Fountain, was not accustomed to walk in the water as they were; and to comfort him, she ever assured him that it was not far to her grot.  
At length they came to a high stony eminency, where was the source of the fountain. The earth was very hollow in divers places; so that Lucida easily persuaded Lysis, that there was her abode. Then she takes up her coats a little higher than they were before, and pissed so loud, that he heard it. O fair aquatic Nymph! cries he out, stay yourself, I beseech you; I see proofs enough of what you have told me, it is certain this Brook hath no other recruit but what you piss; but if you shut not your cock, I shall be afraid of a deluge: I pray take heed; for though I am a Tree, and that I keep above the water, and am not drowned, yet my timber would rot in time.  
The God Morin hearing this discourse, thought it so pleasant, that he could not hold himself from laughing a little outright: So that Lysis wondering at it, He begins (says he) to laugh very decently, there's hope he may in time learn to speak French. Lucida having given over pissing, answered, that she doubted not but that in time he might be taught all good things; but that for the present they must go to a collation in her grot. They all came out of the water; and he that played on the Violin, and the Hamadryads went away and said nothing, so far that they were quite out of sight. Synopa sat next to Morin, and Lucida next to Lysis. These two Nymphs did not much weigh the wetting their legs, for it was not cold, it only made them the more frolic. Morin discovered a great affection to Synopa; and having felt her breast, kissed and embraced her often: And sometimes he put himself into such wanton postures, that Lysis knew not what to say of it; however at last he concluded it was the custom of the Gods of the waters, but he would have gladly known whether it was also the custom of the Deities of the thickets. Lucida taking him by the hand, wrung it hard between her own, and sometimes brought it to her mouth: but such was his shamefacedness, that he durst do nothing, though the temptation was very great. It fortunately came into his mind to desire Morin to play an air or two on his Lute, to which Lucida should sing; for he would have gladly entertained her, but knew not how to begin.  
It was not long ere the Hamadryads and the Violist returned with bottles and baskets, which soon silenced the music; they had brought bread, and great pieces of Piecrust, and a piece of Gammon of bacon, with good wine, and some boxes of Sweetmeats. Morin and Synopa having begun to eat, Lucida said to Lysis, And will not you, rural Demigod! do as we do? What, is there not any thing here that you like? will you slight me so? No, that I do not, assure yourself, answers Lysis: but you know that we Trees do not eat any thing, we do nought but drink; we are not like you Fountains, who eat and drink all is given you, we cannot devour in that manner. 'Tis true, you Trees cannot, says Synopa; but you who are the Souls of the Trees, you may eat any thing. I'll never believe it, says Lysis. I'll give you an example for it, says Synopa: There is your Comrade as to fortune, that eats like a Wolf.  
In saying so, she gave the Violist what to be doing withal; who having a good stomach, soon made an end of all: whereat Lysis much wondering, and seeing the Hamadryads eat too, he would needs try whether he could do the like. Having eaten a piece of Pie, it seemed very favoury to him; but after that, all he had to do was to chew the cud. His stomach increased for what he had eaten; and he thought all had been brought, not too much for himself. One of the Hamadryads having filled a glass of wine, he observed that Synopa and Lucida drank it not so, but dashed it above half water. I wonder you should do so, says he; what need have you to mingle water with your wine, seeing you yourselves are already all water, and that that liquor loses sufficiently of its force when it is within your bodies? We only do this out of custom, answers Synopa; we must needs observe an ancient ceremony. But if I am not deceived, says Lysis, you do this in remembrance of the education of Bacchus among the Nymphs of the Fountains, who for that reason requires water should be mixed with his liquor.  
While he said so, the Violist having eaten enough, began to recreate the company with the sound of his Instrument; so that Lysis calling him into his mind, desired him to give them a more solid diversion, and briefly to relate upon what occasion he had been metamorphosed, and what life he had led before.  

The Fable of the Cypress.  
EVer from my childhood have I kept sheep, replies he: And having learned some grounds on the Violin, by the advantage of my leisure, I came in time to the perfection of the best Players on earth; so that Pan never composed an air, which I played not immediately with a hundred times more grace than he did on his Oat-pipe. I had an excellent Rebeck of Cypress, which is the same I now have: He asked me whether I would give it him for a Sheephook, thinking that when he had it, he had with it all my skill, and that it wholly depended upon this Instrument. I returned him a flat denial, though he was a God; which so enraged him, that he metamorphosed me into a Cypress, decreeing for my chastisement, that my wood should ever be disposed to make Violins and Rebecks, which should be better than that which I had denied him.   
It seems then that you come out of your bark when you please, as the soul comes out of the body, says Lysis; and I do so too. Now I have no more to desire then the History of our two Hamadriads. I know it as well as they, says Synopa; I'll tell it you.  

The Fable of the two Hamadryads.  
THey have been both of them Shepherdesses, who yet would be always tampering with some Apothecary-business: They were skilful in the confection and preserving of all Fruits. But one of them having refused to preserve some Apricocks, and the other some Cherries, for one of Diana's Nymphs that was sick, the Goddess to be revenged hath metamorphosed them both into Trees; one of them hath been changed into an Apricock-tree, the other into a Cherrytree. But here is the miracle; they do not bear raw fruit as other trees, but what they bear is preserved.   
What you have now eaten is of their fruit: what think you of them, are they not good? They are exceeding good, replies Lysis: but if I am not deceived, they have eaten of them themselves, I think that barbarous; 'tis the same case as if a man should eat his own hands or arms. Do you think it so strange? replies Synopa: It is best of all for one to live on his own substance; and it is in the same manner that we naiads do often drink our own water, and cast it out again. Say what you will, replies Lysis; if all were as it should be, it were fit the Apricock-Nymph should eat Cherries, and the Cherry-Nymph, Apricocks, that so they might mutually assist one the other without sinning against nature, and devouring their own members. As for you who drink your own water, the case is not the same, there's no great danger in that; I have known many men drink their own urine. Well, we will consider of publishing certain provisoes in this case, says Synopa: but in the mean time will you not confess that you are happier among us than you expected to have been? you must henceforth forget that Charite, you are no more of her condition; you must love a Deity as you yourself are.  
Lysis answered not a word, for he was afraid that they would persuade him to love one of the Hamadryads, because they were of the same nature; and them he could by no means fancy. But after a while bethinking him that she that proposed it might speak of herself, he imagined he might freely love a naiad, and so addressed his affections to Lucida; though a certain remorse stuck in his conscience, that told him he ought a service to Charite as well in the quality of a Tree, as that of a Man: yet meeting with new charms, he easily forgot what was passed. Lucida renewed her caresses; and one time having kissed his hand, she let it fall directly into her bosom, which was all open. Lysis continued it there a while, and he was for the present at a loss of his reason among those incomparable delights, which before he was not wont to enjoy. He had been one of those who in their addresses are amorously transported, and so respectful, that they dare not touch their Mistresses. In these very first approaches, he could imagine no less then that he had been in the Elyzian fields. Synopa did him a great discourtesy, when she spoke of departing: He thought it proceeded from her jealousy of his enjoyments. Yet considering it was almost day, he was content to retire, and went the second time into the water with the other Divinities, which thought themselves obliged to bring him back. When they were come near his Tree, Synopa told him that he must necessarily resolve before two days were passed, whether he would take her or Lucida to his Mistress, and that they would not any longer languish in expectation. He told her, that he would consider of it, and immediately he would needs get into his bark. Stay a little, says Lucida to him; we'll give you a Hat, you have not any, and there was none of us till now had the wit to take notice of it; if you continue bareheaded, you may catch a cold. I am exempted from that inconvenience, fair Nymph! replies Lysis: A head of wood, as mine is, the weather cannot so easily hurt, as a man's which is of flesh and bone. It is true, that the better to preserve the complexion, it were not amiss to have a hat: But in regard I had not my own on when I was metamorphosed, it was not subject to change; so that now it is not fit for me, nor any other hat. I apprehend your meaning, says Synopa; you will not have a Caster or a Beaver, but you would suffer one of wood, that were conformable to your nature. 'Tis right, says Lysis; and my own hat should have been of that substance, if it had been metamorphosed with me. You shall presently have such a one as shall become you, replies Synopa: And in so saying she takes from one of the Hamadryads a Goblet of China-wood, wherein (because they would be served with an extravagance more divine and poetical) they had drunk at the collation, and put it on the Shepherd's head. This wooden Nightcap was so narrow, that it would not come on the crown of his head, so that he cast it away as being not fit for him, if Synopa could not make it bigger. The fault is not in the Cap, says Synopa, it is in your head which is too great; it must be smoothed about. You are mistaken, replies Lysis: Do you not consider that if the hat were large enough, it would easily come on my head? And do you not see too, replies Synopa, that if your head were less, it would serve you well enough? Their contestation on this nice difficulty lasted a good while; so that at length Lucida said, that that must be done which could be most easily; and that being the Cap could be made no bigger, a hatchet must be sought for to lessen Lysis his head round. That must not be, says he to her, it would hurt me too much, 'tis better to be bareheaded. You see, says Synopa, that the wood of this young Cypress is cut off every day to make new Instruments withal, he fares never the worse for it: The bodies of Trees, have they not their superfluities as well as those of men? put the case your nails were pared or your hair cut, as if you were still a Shepherd. I think that if but one of your leaves were taken off, you would imagine yourself on the rack: Yea, though I should suffer no hurt, says Lysis, I must be left entire, for I am a Sacred Tree.  
While he said so, the God Morin felt in the basket, where was the remainder of the Collation; and having found a great hollow box, wherein there had been marmalade, and whereof there was still a little at the bottom: he presented it to Synopa, speaking to her by signs, This is it I wanted, says she, and putting it on Lysis' head without further contestation, it happened to be very fit. The bottom of it was so well pitched, that it clung to his hair, it needed no stay, Being thus armed, and the company having promised to see him again the night following, they took leave of him, and went a little way off, where waited a Coach for them, to carry them to Hircan's, who was he that had played the part of the God of the River Morin. Lucida, was a jovial widow of the Neighbourhood; The Violist, his own man; and the Hamadryads, two of his maids. All these had he disguised, the better to deceive Lysis, believing there would be as much entertainment with him as at the greatest revelling in the world; and that they made him believe he was dumb, was lest his speech might discover him. Now he had not forgotten to give every one his Cue, that they might not fail to speak in Poetical and Romantic terms. As soon as they came home, they went to bed to rest them after this diversion; and in the mean time Lysis, though abused, was as well satisfied as they, believing he had really seen those divinities, which before he had only seen in the imaginations of them which his books furnished him with, by which means he became more a fool than he had ever been.  
With much ado he got into his Tree, but he was no sooner in, but his belly began to gripe, because he had taken cold by being so long in the wind and rain. He lifted himself up a little, and having untied his Codpiece-point, sat a cross one of the boughs, and was a good while discharging himself of a burden did somewhat importune him: which done, he put himself into the posture he was in before: and seeing Aurora began to appear, he entertained himself with a world of fantastical imaginations.  
Carmelin, who had slept well all night, thought it time to get up, and come abroad with the flock; and withal, to see what humour his Master was in. Well, says he to him, are you still a Willow, as you were yesterday? I never was, says Lysis; and it was only the mistake of some Nymphs to call me so. 'Tis true, I am a tree, but not a common tree. The Gods have had more consideration of me, then that my body should be subject to a vulgar Metamorphoses. Knowest thou not, that those whom the Poet's mention, are ever changed into trees that were never seen in the world before, and that they are the principle of their being? I am a new tree added to nature, and if thou wouldst know my name, 'tis Lysis. All the trees mentioned in Ovid, bear the names of those from whom they came. And that's a thing I thought not on till now. But all those new trees you speak of, replies Carmelin, do they not afterwards become common. 'Tis very true, answers Lysis: Myrrah being once changed into a tree of her name, there hath been a many afterwards seen in Arabia of the same kind. Well, and is that same Myrrah in all those trees? says Carmelin. Thou art very subtle, replies Lysis: know she is only in the first, and that the others are graffs, or proceed from the kernel, and are but the Progeny of the former. It seems then, that you may also have in time a very fair race, if God be so pleased, replies Carmelin: well be it so; but I pray tell me, is it any delightful thing to be what you are? Ah! Carmelin, cries out Lysis, thou putst me on an excellent subject. Alas! I never could believe there had been so much pleasure to be a tree, as there is. Thou art so gallant a man, that I dare tell thee a thing of importance, though I should hazard some punishment for discovering the secrets of the Divinities. Know then, my friend, that the lives of the greatest Monarches is tedious and displeasant in comparison of ours. Diana no sooner shows her silver-face, but the Demigods, and the Nymphs of the Thickets, and the Aquatic Divinities meet together in the meadows, where they divert themselves in all manner of recreations. The God Morin himself did me last night the honour to come and see me, with the Cypress and Lucida. Synopa and two Hamadryads did me the same favour. We danced, we sung, we played one with another, and the grass of those meadows bear yet the mark of our footsteps. Lucida, who is a Nymph of a Fountain, brought us into her brook; we crossed her waters, and were not wet to my thinking; for they divided to give us a passage; making over us a vault of crystal, under which was a pleasant walk. At length we came to her Grot, which was set out with more branches of coral, ordinary stones, mother of pearl, and all sorts of shells, than all those of St. Germains. There she made us a magnificent collation; where I learned that trees eat, and are not altogether deprived of all the contentments of this world. But all that's nothing to the pleasure of being among Nymphs so fair as was our hostess; before whom Diana was so much ashamed to appear, that she for the most part veiled herself with a cloud. O! shall I tell the rest! shall I presume to divulge those silent caresses, whereof I received the favour, without entreaty? Yes, I dare tell thee, on condition thou come near me, and that this Zephyr which flies about here overhear it not: he's such a babbler, that as soon as he knows any thing of news, he tells it every where, and blows it into the ears of those that pass by.  
Carmelin being come near, his Master went on in his discourse, and told him the secret; which was, that he had kissed his Nymph, and had touched her breast. As I am an honest man, Master, says Carmelin, oblige me to what you please, so that you force me not to believe what you now tell me. I am but so much the gladder to hear thee say so, replies Lysis, seeing thou wilt not believe me: I infer, that my felicity is so great that it is incredible: and if henceforward I endeavour to prove any thing I say to thee, it shall signify no more, then that it hath not been my fault that thou hast not believed me.  
While Lysis was saying this, Carmelin did nothing but smell; and at last casting his eyes on the willow, he perceives a yellow liquid matter that ran down from the top to the bottom. Ah! Master, says he, drawing backward, what have you done there? What a nasty man are you? if any people of quality come hither to see you, they'll spoil their clothes as I have done. Having so said, he took off a little ordure that was on his clothes, and with a sharp stone scraped off what was on the bark of the willow. Gather dear Carmelin, says Lysis, gather it, gather it; be a good husband, it is the first fruits of the tree Lysis. 'Tis a precious gum that it sweats out. France will now be as happy as Arabia: from me proceeds a drug as excellent as the tears of the mother of Adonis, or those of the sisters of Phaeton: save it, save it, and carry it to some Apothecary. 'Tis fair humane dung, that may be bestowed on the noses of your ill-willers, says Carmelin: will you make me an arrant fool. Thou art already senseless enough, says Lysis, destroy'st thou a liquor which thou mightest sell dearer than incense, amber or myrrh: or is it because thou hast no viol to preserve it? seest thou not this box that I have on my head, take it if thou canst, for to put thy drug in? I have already seen it, replies Carmelin; what service does it you? It hath been given me instead of a hat, answer Lysis, but I believe that being it is wood, it is already incorporated into my head. Whether it be or no, replies Carmelin, I care not much to be informed. O inconsiderate man! says Lysis, art thou so indifferent in all things! The time may come, that when my wood shall begin to sweat and weep, opening all its pores, there may pass by Shepherds, who will not be so disdainful as thou art, who look'st on all the riches which I proffer thee with as much scorn, as if thou wert a disciple of Diogenes or Epictetus: They'll think themselves but too happy, if they can gather of my yellow amber. I give them free leave to take it, says Carmelin: but provided they taste of it. As for what I have taken away, will you that I go and present it to those fine Ladies that come to visit you. Alas! my friend, says Lysis, they are not seen in the day, we appear only at night. But I am sure I see your face, and a part of your breast, replies Carmelin. What thou now seest, replies Lysis, is a body and head of wood. Your face then is painted with flesh-colours, says Carmelin; and if you are a man of wood, what do you think you shall be good for henceforward, unless 'twere to stand in a Stable to hang Saddles and such things on?  
As they were thus engaged, Anselm being behind them ●ries out, A wooden head may also serve for a babble for children to play withal. I pray thee do not abuse me, says Lysis: Know that if my wood were to be cut down for any use, it should be to make the Statues of the Gods. Pardon my first fally, that hath put me into a little scoffing humour, replies Anselm; I honour you still, and that very much, and my business hither is to know how you do. My master is as well as can be, says Carmelin, he eats and drinks like a man. Is it true, incomparable Willow! says Anselm? I am not so called, replies Lysis. How then? says Anselm. I am called Lysis, says he.  
Anselm upon this was of opinion, seeing he fed quietly, and would be called Lysis, that he had recovered his wits again, and that he did no longer imagine himself a Tree, which indeed was the madness of his madness; I mean a second madness added to the first, which was that of turning Shepherd. But when he asked him whether he would come and breakfast at Clarimon●'s, he answered, that the Rural Deities did not eat in the day, and that he kept his stomach till night, at which time he was to feast with those of his own condition, and not with mortals. Anselm was much troubled that he had so much overreckoned himself, and that he found him still in his error: So that coming near him, he gave him an account how he had spent the night before, which made him hope he should spend a many more as merrily; but more particularly he told him who had put that flat box on his head, which was much like the gilt inscriptions over Saints heads in Country-Churches. Anselm having had a short relation of all this, did more than suspect it was Hircan had played these tricks with him: He presently goes his way to Clarimond's to give him and Montenor the story; and as soon as they had broke fast, they went to see this counterfeit God of the River, who found them much more sport when he told them all the particularities of this nocturnal adventure. They would have been very glad for once to have known so much as he did; so that making it their design to go and visit Lysis at night with the other Deities, they resolved not to see him all that day, lest they should have had any occasion to persuade him he was no Tree, and that if he should believe it, they should miss the contentment they expected 'Tis true indeed, that Anselm having taken him into his charge out of the hands of his Kinsman, was obliged to endeavour the cure of his folly; nor indeed was he wanting as to the desire to do it: but he thought fit to delay it as long as he could; and if he pretended to persuade him to come out of the Willow, 'twas only to carry him up and down, and by his means make oftener visits to Angelica: So that he would not do much, till he had made otherwise all the sport he could with him. Hircan being of the same opinion, they plotted together how to make Lysis a man again by a second Metamorphosis, when they had made what mirth they could with him as he was; for they were somewhat afraid he might really come to some hurt, if he should continue long in his habitation of the Willow.  
Lysis had all this while the company of Carmelin, who set on him still with a many notable objections, to show that he was no Tree: but seeing that he prevailed nothing, he left him and went home for his dinner, which he had forgotten to bring with him. Those who had observed Lysis a discreet person in some other things, and for the most part spoke eloquently, will haply be much amazed to find him so hypocondriac, as to imagine himself a Tree: But they are to believe, that in all this there is not any contradiction or difficulty; and that this Shepherd, though he saw all the world derided his opinion, yet did still persist in it, and had been much displeased to quit it, out of a desire he had it should be true, that so he might raise the greater admiration in others.  
While he was deeply engaged in his frantic imaginations, two men on horseback rode along in a way not far from his tree: They perceived his head with a box on it; and not being able at a distance to discover what that antic figure meant, they were so curious as to go to him. How now! what do you there friend, says one to him; are you put to scare away the birds? Methinks there's no great necessity of it, here's no hemp-yard hereabouts. Or is't not that you are a hunting, and that you have laid your Nets somewhere? Have you not also put some Lime-twigs on your head? The Birdlime, methinks, comes down along your hair; 'tis very ill bestowed there for to take any thing.  
This he spoke because of the Marmalet which trickled down Lysis' head. But the rural Demigod answers them thus: Presume not to inquire of any thing concerns me, ye profane men! Get you gone hence, and come not within a hundred paces, lest you pollute a sacred place. He that had spoke last, knowing by this discourse that Lysis was not of the wisest, was content only to strike him with his wand over the wooden bonnet, and slighting him, kept on his way with his Companion. The blow he gave him struck down the box over his nose, so that he could not see any thing; which importuned him much, because the Flies swarming to the Marmalet, took occasion to tickle him in the face. Now both his arms were stretched out and held by the branches of the Willow, according to his wont posture; and those he durst not let go, believing he ought always to be in that posture, to make it appear that he was a Tree; and that if he had made use of his hands, and some one should haply oversee him, he must needs think he derogated from his quality. All his remedy was to shake his head, which he did so effectually, that the third time he shook down the Box, and was not much troubled at the loss of it, by reason he began to be weary of it. A little after comes Carmelin, suffering his Flock to feed as he came, and feeding himself on a piece of bread and bacon. I forgot one thing I should have said to Anselm erewhile, says Lysis: I should have desired him to send me my Gittarrhe for to recreate myself in my solitude, but more particularly for to bear a part at night with the other Divinities. Why should not I be suffered to do so? I have seen a Cypress that plays well on the Violin: we have now the same Sciences as we had when we were humane, and our Exercises are alike. I tell you once more, answers Carmelin, that I'll never believe a Cypress-tree can play on a Fiddle, unless I see it. There is a remedy for all this, replies Lysis: Become a Tree, and thou shalt see all the miracles done by such as we are: I would to god thou wouldst! and that thou wert planted by my side, that we might recreate ourselves by some excellent discourses: There are other trees good store about me, but they speak not; and if there by any Demigods or Demy-goddesses under their barks, they are very ill conditioned. If a man could be a tree only for one day, replies Carmelin, not to dissemble, I should willingly be one, such is my desire to know whether all you have told me be true. But what should I do to be of your quality? Thou must mention it to the gods, and in the mean time be in love with some ungrateful Mistress. That will require a long time, says Carmelin, and I am impatient. My advice then is, replies Lysis, that thou make a deep pit in the earth, and thrust thyself into it up to the belly; it may come to pass, that thy legs may take root and fasten in the earth, and then 'tis but for some friend of thine to come and water thee, that thou mayst blossom. Go seek others to follow your advice, says Carmelin, I have no mind to rot alive: Think you it would be a fine sight to see me planted there without any means or subsistence? 'twere such an humour as would invite all within fifty leagues about to come and see me; I had rather at any adventure lock myself up, as you do, in the belly of a Willow. Have I not once already told thee that I was not in a Willow, says Lysis; what makes thee forge all these Chimeras? I'll speak no more, says Carmelin; I desire only to know whether I may see the recreations you have in the night, without adding to the number of trees. I know not, replies Lysis; for Divinities have such subtle bodies, that men cannot perceive them; however the trial shall cost thee nothing.  
The master and the man had divers other disputes on this subject; and Carmelin at last resolved to participate in the adventures of Lysis, if it were possible. The dancing and kisses whereof he had spoken to him, so tickled his imagination, that he would very fain make one in a company that spent their time so well. But the great charm of all was the Collation, whereof he saw some proofs, which almost convinced him of all the rest. He had stumbled on the box of Marmalet, which was the remainders of the Banquet; and though good store of earth had gotten in, yet did he not stick to take out what was in't, and when he had done, licked it about with his tongue. Being drawn in by these delicacies, he brings home his Flock betimes, and leaving word that they should not look for him that night, he returns to his master. Their discourse then was of their future entertainments: And among other things Lysis told Carmelin, that if he could enter him into the fraternity of the Rural Deities, he knew an Hamadryad that might he wrought on to be his wife; and that if her complexion was not so delicate, she had in amends a strong and lively body. That would not be amiss, says Carmelin, for I do not love those women that play the cockney so much: But I'll have a good portion with her. 'Tis a great question whether these Nymphs have any thing in marriage, replies Lysis: We shall further consider of it, when we come to the beating of the bush.  
It was by this time pretty far in the night, when Carmelin, who lay at the foot of the tree, was overcome by sleep, though the discourses of his Master were very divertive. What pity it is that the adventures of Lysis happened in a place so little advantageous for his glory, and the profit of the people! He was in a Country so desert, that all the day there were but two men saw him; and now the night was come, there was none to hear the excellent discourses he had with Carmelin. If such brave things had been done within a league of Paris, as it might be at Charenton or Gentilly, what a world of people would have come to visit two such rare persons! But it sufficed that the brave Nobility thereabouts were acquainted with them, that by that means his friends might have an account of him.  
The time of the Mask being come, Lucida, who had all the while remained at Hircan's, was clothed as she had been the night before, as also Synopa, the Cypress, and the Hamadryads. As for Anselm, Montenor, and Clarimond, they were clad as Gods of the River like Hircan, that so they might not speak, lest they should be discovered. The whole troop of these hasty Divinities being coached, alighted about a quarter of a league from the place where was the incomparable Willow. The Cypress played on his Violin, and the rest followed him dancing. Lysis, who had abjured sleep, soon heard the harmony, and presently calls out to Carmelin: Awake thou lazy fellow, awake! The Nymphs are come; prepare they eloquence, that when they shall ask thee any thing, if they take thee for a man, it may not be for an ordinary person. Call to mind the Common-places, through which Learning hath been siringed into thy mind, by which means thou hast not been troubled with the reading of any ancient Author. Carmelin was awaked by these words, which he imperfectly or half heard: And his master by this time perceiving the divine troop, got cheerfully out of his tree, to show his diligence to receive them. Lucida meeting him first, he made her a low congee: which the Nymph returning, asked him how he had done since their last interview. I have always been very jovial, answers Lysis, and I am sure my branches have ever since been very flourishing, for I lived in hope to see you again: And besides I have good news to tell you; and that is, that I considered that I am not a Willow, but the tree Lysis, a tree whereof the name was never known before; and I know there comes out of me a certain Drug more precious than Amber. Seeing every one brings hither of their own Fruits, and that your Hamadryads furnish us of their Cherries and Apricocks, I am sorry I have not brought what my Bark brings forth: You might have dried it in the sun to make Necklaces and Bracelets of it. The Deities were very much pleased at this imagination; but they would have had more sport, had they known what amber he spoke of.  
Carmelin, who who was much astonished to see so many strange persons, was in such a fear, that he durst not but keep close to his master: So that Synopa having perceived him, Dear brother! says she to Lysis, who is that behind you? Who should it be! answered Lysis; See you not it is my shadow, and that the Moon shines very bright? No such matter, says Synopa; I smell raw flesh here, we are betrayed: Here is a Mortal; let us be gone, my companions! With these words she runs away as fast as she could, and was immediately followed by the whole troop. So that Lysis beset himself to run after them, speaking to them as loud as he could in these words: Whither run you dear Divinities! stay a little; He whom you eat is but a miserable Shepherd: If you stay not here, he and other men will have some ground to believe that you fear them, since you dare not appear before them.  
All that ran away were by these words stayed; and being assembled in a meadow, they made as if they had taken heart, and asked Lysis who he was that accompanied him. 'Tis the Shepherd Carmelin, answers he: When I was a man, he was my companion of fortune; that should oblige you to esteem him, were there no other reason; but besides that, he hath many excellent perfections: Fear not to show yourselves to him. Juno, Venus, and Pallas showed themselves to Paris, who was a little lewd Rascal, that was not so good a man as he. This man is a Shepherd who stands upon his honour and reputation; and to tell you the secret of all, it was his desire to see our nocturial recreations. This curiosity proceeds from an ingenuity, which ought not to be frustrated of its expectation: We must hear those that invoke us. We will receive him into our company, says Synopa, on condition he'll be faithful. He shall be, as I am a gummy Tree, replies Lysis: But by your favour, I see three Divinities which I know not. They are Gods of Rivers who are come with Morin, says Synopa; they live sometimes in the Sein, and sometimes in the Marn. Lysis upon that faults them, and they embraced him, a little more gently than their companion had done the night before. That done, Lucida said she would bring the company into a very pleasant place; and going before them, she rested not till they had gone a quarter of a league. Carmelin went among the rest, but not without much respect, still holding his Master by the skirt, lest they might lose him.  
When they were come into a square Close, so well beset with trees, that it was almost like a Hall, the Cypress played Corantoes, and the Gods of the River took in the Nymphs to dance. Lysis admired their good dispositions: but Lucida took him off that admiration, telling him they had learned to dance from their Carp. There being no reputation to strive with them that way, he would not dance but to Songs. Carmelin was in the dance, wherein there was required such activity as made him glad to find his legs. This exercise having wearied them all, they sat down on the grass; and Lysis made it his business to inform himself of the new Gods of the Rivers. Synopa told him, they never had been men, nor had not undergone any metamorphosis, but were the children of others Gods, and yet could not speak. This past, it was proposed to go to some little verbal recreations, whereat the Gods of the Rivers were not fit, because there was always some word to be spoken. They therefore withdrew from that divertisement, and were content to listen to the harmony of Morin's Lute. Carmelin, who was busy at play with the rest, thought the time very tedious, and the Collation long a coming; so that ever and anon he was at his Master ask, And when comes this consolation? Lysis thus importuned, knew no remedy better than to find him some excellent employment to divert his mind; and having broke off the game they were at, My fair ones! says he to the Nymphs, now shall you receive the incomparable satisfaction of hearing my gentle Shepherd. And thereupon turning to Carmelin, he says to him, Make a speech in the demonstrative kind, in commendation of these naiads and Hamadryads, and those aquatic Gods. Excuse me, Sir, I beseech you, answers Carmelin; my books speak not of any such Nations. What sayest thou, ignorant Sot! says Lysis: wilt thou make me be affronted, in not answering to what is expected from thee? must my boughs, which are always green, now put on red, and blush for shame of thee? Come hither, says he, speaking to him in his ear, knowest thou nothing where there is mention of Beauty, or the effects of Love? That thou must in the first place speak to these Nymphs, and afterwards thou mayst consider of a Panegyric of the Gods. I can discourse excellently on Beauty, replies Carmelin; let me alone: can you not at first speak as you should, I can never understand one half of your barbarous names, you speak nothing but Latin to me. In three words of yours, there are ever four cannot be understood.  
Carmelin having thus said, kneeled down on one knee before the Nymphs, and made them this discourse, Fair Ladies, hide your bright eyes from me, they make me die: yet no, do not hide them, they give me life; yet do, for they have stolen away my heart: yet do not, for if they had taken away my heart, they had with it taken away my soul. And this is in the first Chapter of my book of Collections: The second speaks thus much, O BRIGHT EYES! you are not eyes, but Suns: Suns! no, ye are Gods: but since you are Gods, how comes it you are the causers of my death? Alas! I see you are eyes as to your Essence; Suns for your brightness; and Gods for your power; and that the occasion of your coming down on earth, is to make me suffer. I wish I knew what to say to these Gentlemen with the great beards; but I believe there is not any book extant that mentions them, and it may be, they are deaf as well as dumb. Get thee gone, seeing thy discourses are so impertinent, cries out Lysis: What need was there thou shouldst speak of thy Collections? And must thou withal, so far forget respect, as to speak to Goddesses as if thou wert in love with them? Why may he not, replies Lucida, he shall not be disdained: he shall have for his Mistress the greater of the Hamadryads. I give you thanks for him, says Lysis, he shall endeavour to deserve this favour; be pleased to excuse him, if you think he hath committed any folly; for the splendour of your bright faces had so dazzled him, that he was quite out of himself.  
Lucida upon that viewing Lysis, saw he had not on the fine cap they had bestowed on him; She asked him the reason of it, and withal told him, he was very negligent of his health. I have already told you that my body was impassable, replies Lysis; and besides, as for your fine covering, I have cast it away for this reason, that among all the Gods, I never saw any one pictured with a hat on, unless it be Mercury, who wears one as the badge of his dignity; and as for Heroes and illustrious persons, I have ever observed them bare headed, unless it were some few that had helmets on; but that proves nothing, they wore them not but in fights.  
There had been advanced more such considerations, had not Synopa come and said, that they had discoursed sufficiently; and that it was time to collation. Carmelin commended her a thousand times within himself for her profitable advice, while the Hamadryads discharged their baskets of a many good things they had brought and disposed them on the green grass, which was all the Tablecloth they had. The God Morin came near Synopa, and told her somewhat in her ear, which Lysis perceived not: In the mean time Carmelin was helped by his Master with the wing of a cold Turkey, which he fell presently on with his fingers, knowing that hands were made before knives; but as he was putting a piece into his mouth, Synopa withheld his arm: Be not too hasty, Shepherd, says she to him, you are not yet permitted to eat with us. We must first wash you in one of our fountains: What did Lysis dream on, that he hath given you your portion? he was like to serve us a fine trick. We must have gone to the God Pan, for to entreat him to purify us all. I was ignorant of this Ceremony, says Lysis, I beg your pardon, if I have done any thing amiss: I never read what you speak of in any Poet. However, it must be believed so, and good bathing will do Carmelin no hurt, it may conduce to his health. Carmelin was thinking what a pleasure it were to be washed by such fine Ladies; but he wished it might be just then, that so he might collation with the rest, and he saw they did not make any haste to do it. They had taken away the meat from him, and withal fed so earnestly, and with such stomaches, that there needed no long time to dispatch all that was; which consideration made him sick at the heart.  
The Divinities having ended their collation, Synopa thought it time to go and bathe him, and to set all the rest in a forwardness: but he angrily answered, that it was to no purpose, seeing there was nothing to be eaten. Synopa replied, that it were so much spared another night that he should come and see them. Then comes Lysis and whispers to him, bidding him go where ere they should carry him, and that it would be a means for him to see the Grots of the naiads, whither he had so earnestly desired to go. Carmelin crediting him, went quietly with the fair Deities; but when they were come to the brook of Lucida's fountain: Synopa says to Lysis, for your part, you need not be present at our Mysteries, Morin you see, and two of the Gods of the River have left us, go your ways with them. Lysis, who earnestly desired to see their ceremonies, that he might be initated in the divine Science, was much troubled, that he was forced to leave them. But he was fain to go with Morin, and the two other Gods, who were Anselm and Clarimond.  
In the mean time Synopa, Lucida, Montenor, the Humadryads, and the Cypress, took Carmelin by the head and feet, and threw him into the water in his clothes, in a certain place that was deep enough. He found not so much pleasure in his handling as he had imagined, but it was much worse with him when the Cypress said, that he must be stripped stark naked. When he had put off his breeches and doublet, they tied him by the arms to a willow that was on the bank, as if it had been a piece of the ceremony; which done, they turned up his shirt, and whipped him so long with Ozier twigs, that from crying mercy and begging, he fell a railing heartily at all the company; but Lucida told him, that the water could not cleanse him; and that there was within him a corrupt blood that must be whipped out, ere he could be made so pure as to be admitted to converse with the Deities.  
All having done him what mischief they could, they returned to their Randezvouz, and left him fast tied. Lysis being by this time come near the place, where his tree was, took leave of the Aquatic Deities, who bid him farewell, by signs with the hands and congees. Being left all alone, he was much astonished that he could not find his abode, though the appearance of Auroroa made it somewhat light. Hircan desirous to try all means to bring him out of his imagination, had given order, that while he was absent, his willow should be cut down at the root, and carry quite away. Besides all which, the place was so well made up with fresh turfs, that he could not perceive there ever had been any. Lysis seeks all about, and his hollow brain wanted no matter of imaginations upon this accident: Yet though he could not find his willow, he did still imagine himself a tree; and hearing some body coming, he planted himself near the place where the willow had stood: and because he would do nothing before men, that were contrary to his nature, he lifted up his arms, and widened his fingers, as though they had been brances.  
In this posture doth Hircan appear to him, in the same black suit which he had when he delivered him out of the danger he was in at Orontes'. O Tree! says the Magician to him, my will is, that from henceforth thou become a man. 'Tis not in thy power to do it, replies Lysis; they are the great Gods that have Metamorphosed me. The greatest Gods have but the power of Dwarves if compared to me, replies Hircan; and I will now show thee the power of my charms. While he said so, he made a circle about him with a rod he had in his hand; which done, he read certain barbarous words out of a great book. I see I must double my Enchantments, says he to Lysis; for thou art so self-willed, that thou resistest them. What wouldst thou do? replies he, wouldst thou deprive me of all happiness? Let me alone, thou knowst not what is fit for thee, replies Hircan: thou shalt immediately be a man, in spite of heaven▪ earth and hell; and seeing thou wilt not get out of thy bark to come to me, I will cause the winds to blow thee down. Thou shalt be put out of thy abiding place, and shalt see that I can command all the powers of the world. O you Kings of the air, and beesoms of the earth (goes he on with a louder voice) you winds which blow, the one from the one quarter, and the other from the othtr; that is to say, from the North, and from the South. And you Boreas and Auster, I do conjure you by the pantofles of Fate, the old Gallogaskins of Saturn, and the Close-stool of Proserpina, and by whatever else is venerable, and august in the world, that you blow against this tree, and bring it down in such manner, as that it lose its vigour, and that I may change its form.  
Assoon as the Magician had pronounced these words, behold there appeared a brace of knaves all clad with feathers: He had no sooner said to them, O winds do your duty! but they began to blow one on the one side, and the other on the other of Lysis, with certain bellows they had. Their cheeks withal were flushed and fiery, so that they seemed so swollen up, as if they had been also to blow with their mouths, when they were weary the other way. Their action was so effectual on the imagination of Lysis, that he thought they did him some violence; and as if he had been much shaken, one while he bowed one way, another while another yet kept his feet as firmly to the ground as he could. At length, after a good while's resistance, the Northwind blew so violently, that he thought there was no way but to give place to him: so that being quite amazed at it, he fell to the ground. The winds presently vanished, or rather fled away; and the Magician having invocated all the powers of the Universe, poured some water out of a viol he had about him on Lysis' head, and afterward sprinkled it with dust O tree (says he in the action) my charms shall control the power of the Gods; and I now restore unto thee the form and nature of a man, which they had taken from thee. I command thee to rise up. Lysis rise up immediately; but thinking to speak to the Magician, he had made such haste to get away from him, that he knew not which way he was gone; and as for his part, he was in such a fright, that he could not follow him. Hircan being come to the place where the whole company stayed for him in the Coach, got in also, and returned to his own house. 'Twas Anselm and Clarimond who were disguised and personated the winds: but as they had been much pleased to see the postures of Lysis; so were they afflicted, they had not also seen those of Carmelin when he was whipped. Synopa and Lucida gave them a long, yet pleasant story of of him: and though they had all watched so long, yet no body had any mind to sleep: They chose rather to return to Lysis, to see what humour he was in.  
The imaginations which before had disturbed his brains, were now dispersed, and having viewed himself all about, he fully believed himself a man; so that he returned to his host, where having found his hat and sheephook, he put himself into his former Equipage; and having whistled to his dog, that slept at the door, he renewed his acquaintance with him. He drove out his flock out of the fold, and brought it into the fields to graze, thinking himself obliged to return to his former employment.  
The End of the Fifth Book.   

THE Anti-Romance; OR, THE HISTORY Of the SHEPHERD LYSIS.  
The Sixth Book.  
THe most illustrious of all Shepherds feeding his Flock among the Snail-claver and the three-leaved grass, walked on himself very stayedly, as it had been a man taken up with some high thoughts; and gravely lifted up his sheephook at every step, as a Spanish Pilgrim doth his staff. He had not gone a quarter of a league, but there passed by a Coach, out of which alighted Hircan, Anselm, Clarimond, and Montenor, all in their ordinary clothes. Embracing them all one after another, My friends, says he to them, you see I have suffered a second Metamorphosis; I now salute you in the quality of a Shepherd: there is Hircan, who hath made me reassume my pristine form. We are as glad of this, says Anselm, as we were sorry to have lost you. But what do you think of it? are you of our opinion? All I can say, replies Lysis, is, that I must have patience in spite of my teeth. It's true, I had much pleasure when I was a Tree: but if it be decreed I should be so no more, I must resolve to submit: I suffer nothing now which I have not already tried; besides that I am to consider, that to show myself a faithful Lover, I must not be troubled for having the means continued me to serve Charite. Your constancy is commendable, my friend, says Hircan; and you are to know that before you were made Man again, I had much ado to get up into heaven and search the Records of Fate, who is Jupiter's principal Clerk; there I learned what should become of you for the future, lest I might have undertaken somewhat contrary to those decrees. It seems Lysis is much obliged to Hircan, says Clarimond: but Shepherd, if I may be so bold, what's become of your servant Carmelin? Alas! now I think on't, says Lysis, I doubt the Nymphs have gotten him away. He was with me the last night among those of the Divine company, whom he charmed with his eloquence, They made me believe that they had a design to bathe him for purification-sake, but would not suffer me to be present: so that now I am confident they had some ill design, for he hath not yet been at his lodging. The Nymphs have many nobler servants than he, says Clarimond: It may be that, since he left them, some wild beast hath devoured him. Alas! it may be thou first the nail on the head, cries out Lysis; hath not some Wolf broke his fast on my faithful Carmelin? How have my thoughts been taken up till now, that I have not looked after him? Let us now do it; 'tis fit we had a care of him, his loss would be very considerable.  
Having so said, he crossed the fields up and down, and all the rest followed him: He cried out as loud as he could, Carmelin, Carmelin, where art thou? my Friend, my Minion, my Delight, my Love. And seeing he answered not; Questionless, says he, he is dead: we must provide for his Monument, and his Funeral Oration. Lysis at length came to the brook of Lucida, and as he walked along it, renewed his crying, Where art thou Carmelin? and presently he heard a voice, saying, Here I am my dear Master; have compassion on the most miserable Shepherd that lives. Upon that he doubles his pace, and finds the poor Carmelin half naked tied to a tree. Who hath fastened thee there, my Friend? says he to him. What savage people have thus affronted so sweet a disposition? No other but your Imps hereabout, that have dragged me into their Crocks, replies Carmelin. Thy meaning is, replies Lysis, that the Nymphs and the Cypress have carried thee into their Grots. Very right, says Carmelin; the Devil take their Dances, their Sports and their Collations, if a man must buy the sight of them with so much mischief as they have done me. Thou may'st haply be mistaken in them, says Lysis. I am not, says Carmelin, they were the very same, let me be untied, and I'll tell you more. Whereupon Hircan, who carried a knife in his sword scabbard, cut the mischievous garters wherewith they had tied him. When he had gotten his clothes on, he related what had happened to him, whereat every one extremely wondered; for the Nymphs were not accounted so mischievous as he made them. But Lysis interrupting his story came and said to him, Be not troubled, the mischief is past; and in recompense thereof, I'll tell thee what thou shalt be very glad of. Know then, what came not yet into my mind to tell thee, I am no tree, I am the Shepherd Lysis: My vexation hath also hindered me to inform myself of it, replies Carmelin, yet I somewhat suspected you had changed nature. Fair weather after it; let's forget what is past, seeing you will have it so, But above all things, let me not be entreated to come any more among those fine Dames I saw last night, it may be they are evil spirits. I desire not to have any thing to do with people of the other world.  
Carmelin having so said, was ready to go with the rest, but that he wanted his hat. The Nymphs had not left it with his clothes; after they had played with it a good while, they had cast it into the briars, far from that place, where they were sure he would not look for it. Let's go however, says Clarimond, I'll give you another. Nay, it shall not be so, says Carmelin, I cannot endure to be affronted out of any thing: should you give me as many hats as would reach from earth to heaven: I would not lose my own. You need no more but summon the Lady-Nymphs before the Magistrate of the place, says Anselm. Do so and fear not, says Clarimond; see there's a sergeant goes on the road, let's speak to him.  
That said, they put forward, and Carmelin having overtaken the man, who indeed was a Catchpole. My good friend, says he to him, there are certain indiscreet Ladies have taken my hat from me, without any reason: Have I not a good action against them? That you have without question friend, replies the Catchpole: give me their names and dwellings, I'll summon them. I must first acquaint my Master with it, says Carmelin. She that must have committed the Felony, is called Lucida, says Lysis; as for her dwelling, it is in the source of a Fountain hard by; but she is hidden within it so, that thou wilt never find her poor mortal Sergeant: For this Arrest there is requisite a celestial Sergeant, such as Mercury: As for her companions who have been Accessaries in the Felony, they are fast in the barks of trees: where wouldst thou find all these? For thy part Carmelin, let fall thy suit; thou'lt get nothing by quarrelling with stronger than thyself. The Nymphs acknowledge not Terrestrial Judges; or if they submit to them they corrupt them, as they did the Son of Priamus.  
The Catchpole went his way with this discourse, thinking they either had been some that would abuse him; or that somewhat was amiss in their minds: In both which cases there was nothing to be gotten of them, since he understood not what they said. Carmelin being much troubled that he could have no satisfaction of those felons; began to cry out. Alack! poor hat, must I needs lose thee in the flower of thine age and beauty? 'Tis very true, thou didst my Grandfather service and credit at his first wedding; but thou mightst have a long time served my posterity. Ah! how I grieve for thee, when I remember thou hast been for so long a time the faithful covering of those cares and thoughts that were forged in my head, and the noble tabernacle of my Doctrine. Do not weep for't, says Anselm, its hour was come. 'Twere to no purpose to erect a Monument for it, as we should have done for you, when we gave you for lost. Besides, why will you not be comforted, since you are promised a better? Carmelin having recollected himself a little, resumes the discourse thus, But that hat, what shall it be made of, Master, Fine Wool? He had not the seizure to finish what he intended to have said; nor had Anselm the time to answer him, for they all broke out into laughter; especially Montenor, who knew that Anselm by the Father's side came of a race of Merchants, and that Cloth and Wool had been the foundation of his Nobility. Lysis desirous to end the laughter: The error was, says he, for want of a Comma or Parenthesis in the Period. Hearest thou Carmelin? observe it, that thy transposition be not deficient.  
The discourse of the Master was thought as pleasant as that of his man, because his words came out with a certain accent, that gave them great weight. Carmelin himself was pleased with it: but when Clarimond was come home, he made him a much more joyful man, by giving him the hat he had promised him, which was better than his own, though not much. They told him, that if he esteemed pieces of Antiquity, that was a thing worthy as fair a Cabinet as any medal in the world. He was almost out of himself for joy; for if he grieved for the other hat, 'twas only because he had no great hope of this. Notwithstanding all this, he goes to his Master, to desire him to describe unto him by name and clothes all the Rural Deities, that so he might know who had done him the most mischief. It was concluded, that it was the Hamadryads and Lucida, but as for Synopa, she had not given him one stroke, nay, stood at a distance, all the while he suffered the lash. O! what a great mystery is there hidden under that, says Lysis to him; thou hast ground to believe that Synopa is of a very amorous disposition: she hath discovered her passion for me, but perceiving that I always disdained her, she will henceforward adore no merit but thine. I did much inspect it, and it is my opinion, she never looked on thee as an indifferent person; so that now I will show thee how I intent to bring thee quite out of this trouble! Put the case it was she committed the Felony on thy hat, thou must imagine it was for no other reason but to keep it instead of a favour. I remember Charite took away one of my shoes upon the same account. I know not what love you mean, replies Carmelin: why did she not assist me then? speak no more of her; I do not like her humour. If I must have a Mistress; be it that Shepherdess whom you spoke to me of heretofore. Charite hath a companion called Jacquelina, says Lysis; I meant her. Thou shouldst love her, were there no other reason but because she hath a fine name, and because thou canst make a very acquaint allusion thereon; saying she is called Jacquelina, because she is as 'twere a Javelin, wherewith love strikes hearts through. Besides, when thy History shall be written, it will be a handsome title for it, The Loves of Carmelin and Jaquelina. There is a sympathy between the two names, as there is a conjunction between your two hearts; and when I have any leisure, I promise thee to find out some fortunate Anagram upon it.  
While he said this, he heard Anselm proposing to Clarimond a visit in the afternoon to Leonora. Take heart! all goes with us, says he to Carmelin: Here thou hast an occasion to see thy new Mistress; but thou must not go thither unprepared: thou speakest a many good things, but they are not always to the purpose, and besides thou dost not pronounce well. I will teach thee the method of discourse, and the graces of gesture and pronunciation.  
This was spoken very softly; and immediately after our two Shepherds went into a little chamber on one side of the hall, where Lysis being seated in a chair, and Carmelin standing before him, he gave him his first lesson. Seeing it is of much consequence in Love to have a pleasing way of access, and that the countenance hath sometimes more charms then the words, thou must be very careful and observant of thine, when thou art before thy Shepherdess. If thou hast a clean handkerchiff about thee, 'tis my advice thou have it always in thy hand; those that declaim ever have one, nay the very Players at Paris are not without one on the Stage. Now these are they thou must imitate; for if they do not things as they are done, they do them at least as they should be. Nor were it amiss to have a little neat Beard-brush to turn up the Muschato now and then: But above all, a man never ought to be without a Comb in his pocket, I mean these Horn-combs that your present Gallants carry about them to comb out their hair. You desire (it seems) I should never have my head without horns, says Carmelin. Take it not in that sense, says Lysis, it may happen to thee: I have one of those Combs at Montenor's; and I tell those that see me make use of it, that it is made of the horns of those I have made cuckolds, and thus the jest must be retorted back. This I grant you, says Carmelin: but to what purpose must I ever have a handkerchiff in my hand? I may be taken for some Snottypack; and the Brush in like manner would denote the foulness of my Beard, since it required so frequent brushing. If thou wilt not observe these niceties, be sure thou hast excellent discourses, and use the most insinuating forms of speaking, and the most approved by the Gallants. As for example, if thou wouldst say, that thou comest out of the company of men that were in a good humour, thou must say, I have left the conversation of some faces of good humours. Men do not speak only to faces, says Carmelin, but to perfect men. It matters not, says Lysis, that's the manner of speaking, if a man will go according to the mode: And 'tis said every foot, How long is't since you saw that face? That face would have quarrelled with me: 'Tis a very proper, neat speech. Moreover if some would carry thee to a place whither thou wouldst not go, thou must say, I am your humble servant as to that house: I am an humble servant to that visit, that is to say, I am not for it. And if they should tell thee it were to hear good music, thou must answer, I kiss your hands as to music this day. If it be asked whether thou play'st well on the Lute, I break not my head with Crotchets, nor prick myself to play on that Instrument. I should willingly speak in that manner, says Carmelin, yet I apprehend not what it signifies; For must a man prick himself in the breech with a pin or an awl, to stir him up to play on the Lute? And as for your Kiss your hands, and Your humble servants, may they be said to a House, or to Music, which have no hands, and care not for our services? All this is spoken, and is very elegant, replies Lysis; you hear nothing else in the Lowre, and in all other Courtly places. If thou hast overreached any one, or put a handsome gull upon him, thou must say, I have played him an excellent piece; for that's now all the phrase. The pieces you will have me play, says Carmelin, shall they be Tragicomedies or Pastorals, or shall they be some Pieces to be played on the Lute? That were not amiss, if thou couldst do it, says Lysis: Yet I take not these things in that sense, I mean the playing of some fourbe or overreaching trick in a company; and there's as much subtlety required to do that, as to play a piece on the Stage. But to return to our Phrases, there are yet others as exquisite and curious as these; but I shall teach thee no more at present, then that thou must say at every word, that thy Mistress is a ravishing treasure. That's very proper to be said of Synopa, replies Carmelin; she takes whatever's in her way, she hath ravished away my old Hat; she is as ravishing as a Bird of prey, or a Wolf. 'Tis not to be taken in that bias, says Lysis: When a Beauty is said to be ravishing, the meaning is, that it is full of charms, allurements, and attractions; and if thou please, thou mayst say that thy Shepherdess hath a ravishing countenance. Thou mayst make thy advantage of these French phrases, according as occasion shall require; and thou art to represent to thyself, that there is not in Paris any despicable Fellow that pretends to the qualities of a Gentleman, no nor any contemptible Cockney-bastard, but hath them, when he is to put his best side outward. 'Tis not to be wondered at that I should know all this; for though I was ever very studious, yet at certain times I kept good company, and this was the manner of speaking among the Gallantillo's; if thou wilt have the reputation of a Carpet-Knight, thou must imitate those words.  
Carmelin, without any further contestation, fell to ruminate on his instructions; and Lysis having gotten pen and ink, thought fit to give him some amorous discourse in writing, besides this language a-la-mode wherewith he entertained him, which was only for familiar discourses. He therefore dressed him a fine Compliment; and having given it him, bid him learn it by heart. I shall have it presently, replies he after he had seen it, for I have read it in some book heretofore. It's never the worse for that, replies Lysis: Novices in Love, as thou art, must follow the Books in all things. Let's see if thou hast a good memory. There are but three periods; tell me the first, and imagine thou wert speaking to thy Mistress. Whereupon Carmelin without any previous ceremony began thus. Fair Shepherdess! since a fortunate lot hath brought me hither, and that your eyes give me no wound but such as are delectable to me, I must needs avow it to you, that I am surprised by those attractions, which, notwithstanding all resistance, I shall be sure to suffer under. 'Tis very well, says Lysis, thou hast not missed a syllable; but yet I observed thou hadst a corner of thy eye in the paper; besides there is somewhat in it more than speaking, the action is all in all: In the first place put off thy hat, then make a congee a-la-mode, carry thy eyes languishingly; and moving thy right hand as it were in measure, put the forefinger to the thumb, as the Orators do in their declamations.  
In so saying Lysis showed him all those gestures, and Carmelin imitated them the best he could: But his master told him he must speak at the same time; so that he began anew thus. Fair Shepherdess! since an unfortunate Sot hath brought me hither, and that your eyes give me no wounds but such as are detestable to me, I must vow to you that I am so surprised with your detractions, that in spite of all assistance I shall suffer under them. I know not how Lysis had the patience to hear out his discourse without beating him. At last he cries out, Great ass! what an impertinence hast thou spoken? thou hast made more faults than thou hast pronounced words: 'Twould make good sport to hear thee say so to thy Mistress. What will you have me do, Master? replies Carmelin: The fear of missing causes me to make so many faults; and I so much study the grace of the gesture, that I forget the discourse: the likeness of the words makes me take one for another.  
Lysis bid him study it longer, and he afterwards repeated it again: He was not much out as to the words; but for countenance, he observed none at all; and was all the time in such an unhandsome posture, that his Master chid him still. There's the misfortune, says Carmelin; when I think on the words, I forget the grace: But let's begin again; I'll repeat it so often, that I will not miss any thing. So he began again; but he was much out in the discourse, and there was still somewhat amiss in him: For when he studied the action, he forgot the words; and when he studied the words, he forgot the action. So that Lysis seeing his labour lost, bid him bethink him of a Compliment to his Mistress according to his own fancy, seeing it was but time lost to show him any thing. Anselm, who was in the hall, had overheard part of the Dialogue at the chamber-door, which he thought very pleasant, at length he enters the room, as Lysis was saying to Carmelin, that he wondered how he could remember the discourses he knew on several subjects, seeing it was such a task to him to overcome seven or eight common words. What I have hath cost me much pains, replies Carmelin; and not to dissemble with you, I tell you it hath been beaten into my head as 'twere with mallets: I must have a month to learn a line; but in recompense, when it is once in my head, 'tis as sure as the scurf that's inseparable from it. No, no, thou art an ignorant Fellow, says Lysis, I have been much deceived in thee. Pardon him for this time, says Anselm, he'll learn better another: There are some days that our memories are asleep, and that our mind executes not its functions freely. I shall take it so for your sake, replies Lysis; perhaps the vexations he hath gone through, have offuscated his understanding. We must henceforward conceive he will be another man then what he hath been; for to be in love, is an advantageous means to become learned. I have read in a certain book, that Love is Master of all Arts; and I know by experience that it purifies the mind extremely. 'Tis very true, says Lysis: but if you desire the reputation of learned, never bring an authority without quoting it. I am content, says Anselm: who as he had a very good memory, recited a discourse to that purpose which he had taken out of a late book, wherein there was so much naturalness, that all were infinitely pleased with it.  
This discourse ended, Clarimond comes in and tells them that they must make haste to dine. There was brought from Montenor's abundance of Poultry and Fowl; so that Carmelin, whom they disposed at the Master's table, thought he saw the beginnings of those delights which Lysis had promised him. After dinner he was taken into the coach with the rest, whereat he was also infinitely pleased, for he had never been so honourably wasted in his life. Being come to Orontes', the Gentlemen kissed the Ladies, and Lysis did the same, but he durst not kiss Charite, because the rest had not kissed her, and that in this case he would not go beyond their example. It was not their custom to kiss Chambermrids, and the Shepherd much wondered at it: But if they had done it, and that he had done the like, the favour he should have obtained would have been accompanied with a regret to see others receive the like. While he was thus taken up, Hircan related his metamorphosis, and how he had restored him to his former shape. That gave Angelica occasion to put a many questions to Lysis; and among others, she asked him whether the Trees led a pleasant life, or no. For my part, answers he, I assure you I was not weary of it; nor feared I any thing but lest Carmelin should cut down some of my boughs to make Chairs of, for he hath sometimes been a Joiner: And accordingly I should have given him notice, that if there were an extreme necessity to take away some bough from me, it might not be employed otherwise then to make my Mistress a Cupboard.  
After that Lysis had related in what manner he had entertained this Carmelin into his service, and how that he hoped to make him as honest a Shepherd as any in France, he bid him draw near; and Orontes having viewed him well, swore he knew that face, that he had seen it somewhere, and that he thought it might be at Troy's. It may be you take him for Paris who was the Judge of the three Goddesses, and think he is a Trojan, says Lysis: but he is not, he told me he was of Lions, which was some reason that I made him my companion; believing that Lion's being near Forests, there might come good Shepherds thence. I do not mean great Troy, replies Orontes, I speak of Troy in Champagne: And seeing we are so far engaged in the discourse, I'll tell you what I know of him. Being about a year since in that City, I went to a Stationers to inquire for a certain book I wanted: While I was speaking with him in the shop, I heard a voice from an upper-chamber, that said, Master, I am come to the month of August, what shall I put down? Warm rains, answers the Stationer. I thereupon looked up, and through a little trap-door perceived somewhat of a man: I thought I should have seen the Gods talking from their several heavens; as if Mars asked the Sun what weather it should be, and how he should direct his course. I went up to see who it was that had spoken, and it was this brave Carmelin, who helped the Stationer to make an Almanac: I leave it to be considered if it must not be well done, since it was their invention, and that the predictions came out their brains. I do not deny that I have lived with that Stationer, not knowing what to do, says Carmelin: but you are to take notice that he hath raised him a good fortune by his Almanacs, and therefore he is not to be derided. When he married, he was so poor, that the Priest being come to bestow a benediction on his bed, found none in the chamber. Father! says the woman, cast some Holy-water in this corner, we shall have anon a bundle of straw. But since that time they have done very well; and had it not been my desire to see the Country, that made me leave them, I might haply have advanced myself as well as they. 'Tis true, I have heard say that now they are fallen into the same posture again; yet I am assured they make a shift to keep house together, but that they sell away by pieces what's left. It seems we shall find it at last the highway to the Hospital, to live with such people, (says Florida, laughing at these pleasant passages:) You have now met with a better Master; and I believe, since he knows you to be expert in making Almanacs, he will employ you to calculate his Nativity. Believe it not, fair Lady! replies Lysis: I am not born either under the Signs of Cancer or Capricorn; I am born under that of Charite's Eyes, whose influences I know better than any ginger: Those two bright Stars which are posited in the Heaven of her Countenance, are a new Gemini, better than that in the Zodiac, and was never yet observed by the Speculators of the Second causes. How can you be born under the Sign of Charite's Eyes, replies Florida, since she is younger than you? That's your mistake, replies Lysis: As Charite is immortal, and shall never know end, so never had she beginning; and thought it be but nineteen or twenty years that she hath been on earth, yet she was before in the heavens. I am very sorry such a fair Lady as you are, should be ignorant of any thing she should know.  
While he was taken up in this discourse, Hircan had done relating to the rest what had happened between the Shepherd and the rural Deities, repeating the very stories they had told him word for word. So that Lysis turning towards him, says, And who, prithee, hath told thee all these particulars? But 'tis true, thou art a Magician, and there is nothing in the world hidden from thee. But 'tis to no purpose, replies Angelica, we believe nothing of all he says: Who could believe there were any Nymphs of the woods & waters? I have often been in the fields, and have sometimes been in the water, but could never meet with either of them. What, will you also declare your want of learning! says Lysis: Know then that the Gods appear not to mortals because of their sins; and that it is not now as it was in the first Age, wherein Innocence reigned, and that they appeared openly, and in a manner lived and conversed with us. But for the good of mankind, I have an incomparable design for to recover the lost felicity. Harken therefore all you that are present, and I would to god I might be heard to the four quarters of the earth what I am going to tell you! And that is, that I have undertaken to reduce the Golden Age. There are a many who would advise the King in some things that might be for the peace of the people, but there is no advice near mine: Seeing Charite is come to live in Brie, there by my means shall the celestial benediction be first poured out: All shall live after my example; and the Gods observing the purity of our souls, shall banish hence all those evils that Pandora hath sown here: it shall be always fair weather; we shall have the fruits of the Earth, without manuring it; all Rocks shall be full of Pearls and precious stones; there shall be no place so desert, where there shall not be sets of Thyme and Marjerom; Brooks of wine and milk shall run through the meadows; our Rams shall have horns of Diamant, and our Sheep have fleeces of fine Silk of all colours.  
This discourse of Lysis was heard with great silence; only Clarimond at the end broke out into a laughter. What do you laugh at? says the Shepherd to him. What should I laugh at, but yourself? replies Clarimond: You, and the rest of your profession, the Poets, are all Fools with your Golden Age: Granting it were not a Fable, you speak such things of it, as, if they were true, would not make it so delightful as that wherein we live. Is not the year more pleasant having four seasons, then if it had but one, as the Spring or Autumn? And if there were none but precious stones, would not that be a great inconvenience? As for your brooks of milk and wine, they are sufficiently ridiculous; for whence should they take their Springs? must we milk all the kine in the Country, and let out all the tuns of wine in one place, that so we might have rivers? and would you have no water at all? Are there not many things wherein it is useful? I see no reason but you may as well promise us Mountains of fresh butter, and green cheese; Rocks of Sugar-candy: that we might catch Larks ready roasted; that there should be places where it should rain Sweetmeats and Confects; and Trees, whereon should grow clothes ready made. These accommodations are fit for a Country, whose inhabitants love to have things done to their hands.  
Clarimond had lost Lysis' favour by this discourse, had he not in the beginning called him a Poet, whereat he was so satisfied, that he thought not on the rest. He was so well pleased to be ranked among those honourable persons, that he bit his lips again, and his skin grew almost too narrow to contain him. Anselm spoke to Clarimond for him, and showed him his error in blaming the delicacies of an age that all men regretted. Thereupon turning to the Shepherd, he asks him, by what means he thought to accomplish his noble designs? What have I else to do but to persuade all my friends to become Shepherds, as I am, replies Lysis? 'Tis true, you and Montenor have already denied me; and as for Clarimond, he seems not to be much inclined to it. However, I shall not want companions, there are at present a many good wits in France. I'll furnish you with an excellent invention, says Clarimond, you must address yourself to the Poets, and makers of Romances, who are now in Paris: They are those that speak of Shepherds, and are obliged to be such, thereby to effectuate the rare things, wherewith they have filled their books, or else we must take them for fools and madmen. That I was thinking on, says Lysis, I cannot find any people fitter for my purpose. And the more easily to draw them in, I promise them all their first Shepherd's clothes.  
That's the way indeed to oblige them, says Clarimond, for they would not only turn Shepherds, but Turks if need were for a suit of clothes. They have ever been a sort of wretches; and to begin with their Prince Orpheus, he was so beggarly, that the very day of his wedding he had not wherewithal to give his wife a pair of shoes; so that as she danced barefoot in a meadow, a Serpent stung her in the heel, whereof she died. There was never any since that made verses, but hath been poor, or had a desire to be so. I know means to enrich all those that are of that noble quality, replies Lysis: I shall require nothing of them but their obedience. Now as soon as they shall come to me, I shall presently propose unto them the Institutions of an Amorous and Pastoral Republic: I will found an University, whereof they shall be the Heads and Professors. The most able man among them shall be the Vicechancellor, and there shall be nothing read to the Students, but Poets and Romances. They shall learn Ovid's Epistles, Diana, Astrea, and they shall do exercises, and take degrees in love, instead of doing it in the Law, as at Orleans. Young men and maids shall gospell mell to this School, and there shall thenceforth be banished from among us all ignorance and incivility. Upon this, Carmelin comes and says to him, Master, give me leave to tell you, that for to get the more Scholars, it were not amiss to put up Bills all about Paris. He that hath taught me so much learning, used this subtlety, & was so afraid I should pass by some place when I posted them, that he visited the streets ends, to see if they were bestowed in eminent places. Sometimes he stood by to watch them, and if there came a mischievous Lackey by, that had an itch to tear them off, he would be sure to get a good rap over the pate for his pains. One time, without heeding much what I did, I pasted up one the clean contrary way, so that a man that would have read it, must have gone and looked out at the Chamber window that was above: That angered him so, that he never wished me well since. All men are equally desirous to propagate their fame, says Lysis; and I assure thee, that I have heard say, that one of our most Famous Authors, who is so rich that he needs not go a foot, was in the same manner well pleased to see his name at every corner, and road on horseback up and down Paris to see it on the day he had a Book to come out. Thou understandest this business very well, replies Lysis, and I will follow thy advice, but not altogether as thou conceivest: for it is no mercenary expectation makes me do any thing. Since the City of Paris is a place, where there are a many people of quality and honesty, and that I am not generally known of all, I will send thither to have some Bills printed, and pasted up and down, which shall speak somewhat to this purpose:  

To all that pass by.  
THis is to acquaint all whom it concerns, That in the Province of Brie, there is a Shepherd called Lysis, who teaches the Arts of Love and Shepherdry, without demanding any money or other recompense: And that all persons, of what condition soever they be, shall be entertained by him at the foresaid place; and to show the perfection of his Knowledge, he will teach them how to live without any care or pains, reducing among them the Golden-age.  
He lodges at Bertrands a Vine-dresserner Clarimonds' Castle.   
O how handsome will this appear under that of the Players, they being both to the same purpose, says Clarimond: There cannot many escape the baits of your promises, and you will have more Disciples them ever Aristotle had. But your must beware that the credulous and simple people take you not for a Mountebank, like the Jew who was burnt a while since, that in his public Bills promised his Scholars Golden Mountains, but at his lodging entertained them with nothing but vain and pernicious Lectures. Or I should rather fear, that your Bills would be thought like those of the Friars of Rosecroix, who spoke all Languages, and delivered men from Errors and Death. As for those Doctors, 'tis well remembered, says Lysis; being informed that they never failed to come to those who would speak with them, I have gone out purposely divers times for to meet with them, and have expected them every where. If I heard some uncertain noise, I thought it was one of them; and though I saw no body, yet I went on still in my interrogations; because it was reported, that they became invisible. You are not alone deceived in this case, says Orontes, but I'll tell you a thing, which I wish all France knew for its deliverance from these false opinions. Being once engaged in a debauch at Paris, with seven or eight of my friends, one of them, to find the world talk, went and writ the Placard of the Friars of the Rosecroix, who have made so much noise in the world, and posted it up at the corner of a street in the dark. Judge now whether this folly was not a worthy employment for so many famous writers. A great piece of news indeed, says Lysis; but if it be granted that the Fraternity of our learned Invisibles be but an imaginary thing, I cannot choose but be sorry for it; for what rare things might a man do if he were of their sect. A man might visit his Mistress in spite of Friends and Rivals. Trouble not yourself for that, replies Clarimond: The Poets whom you endeavour to imitate, promise as strange things as those unknown Philosophers. They speak altogether by miracles and Metamorphoses. You would do me a favour to bring them hither, for I have some things of no small consequence to tell them. Alas! what quarrel have you with them? says Lysis; know you not, replies Clarimond, that before a man enters into a sect or profession of Religion, he confers with the Philosophers or the Ministers? in like manner, before I turn Shepherd, I would speak with those Sovereign Masters of this Art, that I might be convinced as to certain scruples which trouble my mind. But perhaps you'll tell me you are as able as they to solve all arguments; but you are not, you are but their disciple, and I cannot be satisfied with what you might allege. Tell me at least in few words, what you could object against those excellent ingenuities, replies Lysis. I shall freely do't, says Clarimond: And to begin with the ancient Poets, I maintain, as I have done before, that all their Fables are full of most ridiculous absurdities; they have invented a thousand fopperies, according to the customs of the Ages they lived in. If their times had been like ours, and had had the advantages of so many inventions as we have, and that their Works were now to be composed, Apollo, in stead of playing on the Harp, should play on the Lute; and in stead of killing the Serpent Python with arrows, he should have done it with a musket. Cupid, in stead of his equipage of a bow and quiver, should be accommodated with a Case of Pistols. Were I to have my mind, in stead of a torch he should have a Fool's babble in his hand, for all his heat is but a foolish imagination. As for the Sun, in stead of riding in a chariot, he should ride in a coach, or haply he should be disposed into a wheelbarrow: But the imagination were yet more excellent, if it were supposed that that Luminous globe which lights us, were one of the wheels of it. As for Saturn, who is very slow of motion, he should be carried in a Sedan, like an old man that were sick of the Gout. In the same manner should all the rest of the Gods be accoutred; and I am troubled with a little itch to reform all their fables, that so they might be a la mode, and that people might understand somewhat out of them.  
Having showed you the folly of the ancient Poets, I am now to speak of that of our modern ones. They conceit themselves very learned, if they discover but a touch or allusion to some ancient fable; and in their Romances they think they appear very able men, if they can but bring in the Ceremonies, Sacrifices, and Religion of the false Gods. The relation of the terrors of barbarous Nations, is it not an excellent ornament to a Book, and have we not great necessity to burden our minds with the knowledge of them? Why may we not as well have Romances of all the false Religions of the Indies? Yet want there not at this present a many able Wits, that suffer themselves to be carried away with the torrent of this inconsideracie; and like as sheep cast themselves down where they have seen others to fall before, so they think themselves excused if they err by imitation, never tasking themselves with any serious inquisition into things; and cannot write three lines, but they talk as confidently of Jupiter and Mars, as if we lived in the time of Augustus. Besides these, there are other extravagances in Romances, which I shall more particularly sift out in a Censure I intent of them.  
As for the sneaking Poems which we are furnished with by those who have not so much strength of spirit as to undertake any thing that requires a longer breath, and bestow three months on a Sonnet, O God can there be any thing in the world more unprofitable, or more contemptible? Those who make it their business, are they not much in the right, to think that a flat dull discourse becomes very excellent, if it can but be put in verse? And can they imagine that Rhyming, which is not only a vice in our Prose, but also even in Latin Verses, is so much to be esteemed, that they must presently deserve Crowns of Laurel for having been a little fortunate therein? But indeed Rhyming is nought else but a barbarous ornament of corrupt and imperfect Languages; and I durst maintain, it is the greatest argument in the world of a low and cowardly mind, to spend a whole life in filing and licking of Verses. Besides, the present Authors betray so little capacity, that if by a solemn Edict it were forbidden them to use the words Fate, Chance, Charms, Smiles, Beauty, Love, and some others, which must not fail to serve any where, though there be no need, unless it be to make up the measure and to rhyme, I would forfeit my life if they could ever make Ode or Sonnet. And if ever they betray any sharpness or ingenuity, 'tis but an Antithesis, which had been used a hundred thousand times before; as it may be somewhat about Roses and Thorns, Fire and Ice, Night and Day, the Sun and Stars: Or else they are sure to period with an Hyperbole. It comes not once into their imagination, that Poetry ought to have other ornaments than these; for they think it a matter of reputation never to have read any good book, which haply would have made them more capable: And if their invention be delivered of any thing above common, it is some rugged imagination which the Clown in the Play would have been ashamed to have said, nay, and would blush at it, were't not that his face is powdered. And this is part of what I should represent unto them; and when they shall learn what remains, there will be a necessity they should defend themselves, and convince me of some opinions, if they desire I should enter into their Caballe.  
As soon as Clarimond had here ended his discourse, Lysis told him that those he challenged were able enough to answer him, and that they would do it when they were come into Brie as he expected; but that which he most doubted was, that they were so enchanted with the pleasures of the Court, that they could by no means leave it. Banish that belief out of your mind, replies Clarimond: 'Tis true indeed they do haunt Princes and Courts, and have not any thing else to do but as so many Spies to inquire who is newly in favour with the King, or if any one be upon marriage, that they may make Verses on those occasions. But when they have given their diurnal attendance, and made their utmost advantages of these opportunities, and written on all these fine occasions, men contemn them as an unprofitable sort of people. These brave Salesmen of Praise and Fame, promise immortality, dispose Empires as they please; and as they present nothing but smoke, so are they paid in the same coin. To be short, you may be sure that after they have haunted great houses, they must take up their lodging in the small ones, I mean those of the Hospital. Nor indeed is it long since, upon an occasion of securing all beggars, the Beadles found in the street one of this famous tribe, and carried him thither: But there rise a great debate, viz. whether the silly Wretch should be disposed among the poor, or among the mad, because he seemed to be both: At last a Gentleman that chanced to be present, delivered him, and made him his domestic Fool. Gentle Shepherd, (says Anselm to Lysis) you kdow well where those small houses are, which are quoted to you: I remember your Cousin Adrian threatened to lodge you there when you disobeyed him: I would gladly know how you would look if you were there; would you take for Shepherdesses all those good old wives that are there? would you entertain them with amorous compliments? Go and seek who should answer thee, discourteous friend! says Lysis; thy interrogatories are odious. I pray excuse the freedom I have taken, replies Anselm, and go on in your discourse concerning the Poets. I'll no more of that neither, says Lysis: whether they be ridiculous or no, the condition of Shepherdry is never the worse: Good things must not be esteemed ill, for having been ill described.  
This entertainment being ended, every one entered into somewhat more particular, even to Lysis, who had the means and opportunity to set upon Charite. He was so much the more confident to speak to her, because she sometimes looked on him smilingly? Are you not then the same cruel one still, who disdain my services? says he to her: Are you no longer offended with me? My anger uses not to continue so long, answers she. Then am I obliged to heaven, replies Lysis; you have done what prudence itself ought to have done: If I have at other times offended you, I will do it no more henceforward; and I will live with you as modestly as if I were to converse with a Nun, until such time as the sweet tye of marriage shall open the gate of my affections. And that is the reason that I now make my humble suit to you, that you will be pleased to impose what laws you think good on me, and I shall observe them. Consider, my fair one! what commands do you lay on me? I am ready to obey you. I have not so great a power over you, says Charite; I only desire you not to speak to me but in private, because my Lady's Brother in law hath ever somewhat to say to me concerning your love. Your entreaties are to me commands, says Lysis; Is there any thing else you would have me do? There is, answers Charite; and that is, that you follow all the good counsel I shall give you, lest we both be laughed at. You might have spared that charge, replies Lysis; so far am I from wanting a faith for the oracles that proceed out of your mouth.  
While the Shepherd was thus employed, Anselm had gotten near Angelica, for to discover his affection unto her. But he received not from her the least favourable answer. So that bethinking him she might be still in the opinion that he loved Geneura, as she had been informed before, he caused Montenor to advance, who from one discourse to another came to speak of this his first Mistress, making it appear how her Servant had left her, and that she was since married to another. However Angelica persisted in her disdains; and when Anselm ever fell upon any demonstration of the greatness of his affection, she told him, that the passion which he seemed so sensible of, was as extravagant as that of Lysis. You are too cruel if you say so, (says Anselm to her) for I do not think you believe it: You know that your perfections never could raise in my soul any thoughts or desires which were not regulate; and as for my actions, they differ much from those of our Shepherd. The effects of Love are indeed divers, replies Angelica, but the folly of it is ever alike.  
This discourse was broke off by the approach of Florida. But Anselm besetting himself seriously to consider, was much troubled to find out the cause why his Mistress treated him more disdainfully then ordinary. He was not of those Fools who marry Wenches before they know whether they entertain them with any affection, and are ever after upon the threshold of divorce. He was resolved to say nothing to Leonora, till he were assured of her Daughters good will; and it was she that he would first gain, as being the place of most importance. He therefore resolved to make provision of Constancy for to persevere in a suit, whereof he doubted not his satisfaction if he brought it about.  
The time to depart being come, he went home in the Coach with Montenor, and Clarimond and Lysis were of the company. As for Hircan, he road home to his own castle: And for Carmelin, he being obliged to look after the Flock, which he had left to the care of Bertrand's son, took his way to the Cottage, whither he retired, and was much displeased that he was fain to go afoot, and alone. When Lysis was come to Montenor's, he told the company, that the reason of his coming thither was to consult with them, and consider of the way which he should take for to acquaint all the French his Countrymen with the pleasures he promised them. Clarimond answered, There was no more to do but to write down the Si quis or Bill he had dictated to him, and send it to some Printer at Paris; and that besides, it were not amiss to direct a Letter to the Wits of the times, who are the first wheels that put the affections of the people in motion. This advice being approved, Lysis writ his Si quis; and when he had done, this Letter.  
To all POETS, ROMANCISTS, etc.  
Gentlemen,  
HAving received notice of your high knowledge from very worthy persons, besides the testimonies I have found thereof in your innumerable and infinite writings, I do upon mature consideration believe I cannot meet with better associates than yourselves, in the design I have undertaken, to re-establish the Felicity of the World. You may find what I promise in my public Bills: And you are now entreated, upon my account, to come and meet me in Brie, there to put on the habit of Shepherd. There is no excuse can exempt you from being of this Profession, since you have published in your Books, that it is extremely delightful. And that hath made me confident to direct this Letter unto you, hoping that ere long I shall see you here, holding the Sheephook in the one hand, and the Pen in the other, for to describe your noble adventures, according as you shall accomplish them. Then shall you be assured to receive what Favours and Obligations you can justly desire from,  
Your most Affectionate Friend, the Shepherd LYSIS.  
All this was fair writ over after supper, with a letter directed to one of the most famous Printers in Paris, wherein Lysis desired him to print his Si quis, and to have it stuck up in the streets, and to deliver the other Missive to the WITS of the time. The next day the packet was given to the Carrier of Coulommiers, who passed by the house Lysis believing that his affairs were in a successful posture, went cheerfully into the coach for to return with Clarimond. He forgot not to take with him all his Accoutrements; and above all, the sheephook which Montenor had given him, But he presented it afterward to Carmelin, reserving to himself his own Green-Gilt, at the end whereof he nailed a plate of iron, having found the card quite torn and worn away. Clarimond remembering what business he had to do, suffered him to wander the fields for to take his former exercise; and than it was that being alone with Carmelin, he asked him a many questions: Hast thou not seen the incomparable Charite? said he to him: Is she not the fairest piece that ever nature drew? but 'tis well remembered, thou hadst seen her once before, when thou carriedst my Letter to her. Carmelin, who had taken Synopa for Charite, was much amazed when he saw his Master's true Mistress, and had almost acknowledged his error: so that says he, Pardon me there, I never saw her you speak to me of till this last time. Thou wert a liar then, when thou toldst me thou hadst delivered her my Letter, and that thou hadst well considered her. Not so neither (replies Carmelin, willing to repair his fault) I have always told you the truth, I thought I had seen her the first time, though it were but as she passed by; but having yesterday viewed her at my leisure, I found in her so many excellencies, which I had not observed before, that I thought I had never seen her.  
Lysis was appeased, and much taken with this subtle evasion. He afterward asked Carmelin, whether he had seen the Mistress he had a desire to bestow on him. I did indeed see a great Swine of a servant-maid, called Jacquelina, but as for a wench worthy to be my Mistress, I have not seen any. Thou art very humourous, but I'll not oppose myself against it. It's a sign thou beginnest to take courage: however, I shall not any more embark myself in thy affections. Endeavour to provide for thyself, though art old enough. I see well where thy shoe pinces. Thou still grievest for the presence of Synopa, that fair Nymph of the waters. The Devil make a Gallows of her, if I so much as think on her, replies Carmelin: you are to know that when I was come home last night, I related to our Landlord your adventures, and my own. He was almost out of himself, when I told him of those dances and banquets in the night with fair Ladies, and men with great beards, that could not speak. He told me, that without question we had been at the Sabbath, and that those we had seen were so many evil spirits: That as for the meat which was there eaten, it was nothing but wind; as indeed I must confess it hath not much burdened my stomach. When I consider the mischief they did me, and all the several postures of that cursed crew, I am obliged to believe they were no other than the inhabitants of hell. Wherefore if you have any desire to converse with them any further, I am advised not to serve you any longer. Alas! what blindeness is this? cries out Lysis; whither will the insolence of humane spirits reach, when it mistakes the most favourable Deities that may be, for evil spirits? This is far from sacrificing to them. Since thou art in an error Carmelin, I will endeavour to deliver thee out of it. Let's go to the fountain Lucida, possibly the Nymph of it will be so courteous as to appear to us. In saying so, Lysis goes forward, and being come near the source, he several times calls Lucida; but not seeing her appear, he said that patience must be had, and that it may be she was gone a walking some way; or that she would not show herself so easily to men in the day time. After this he made a light meal on bread and nuts; and when the Sun was set, he returned along with Carmelin to his Landlords. The Good man, who according to what he had been told of him, thought him a wizard, and was in some fear to sup with him; yet had he the confidence to ask him, why he who had much money, and seemed to come of good friends, troubled himself with the keeping of sheep; since they were only the poorest lads in the Country that put themselves into that employment. Thy discourse is as rustical as thy person, honest friend, replies Lysis, canst thou wonder that I take the sheephook in hand, seeing so many Knights have forsaken the Lance upon the same account; nay, since there have been Kings that have preferred it before their Sceptres, that so they might pursue their Loves with more Liberty? It's true, this is not seen in this Country, but it is so in Forests and other places: but it will not be long ere there will be even here a many as illustrious Sheperds as myself. However, there is not such pleasure in keeping of Sheep, replied the honest Peasant; I had rather be at Paris in your brave hanged Chambers, telling of crowns. Behold what all the Philosophers have taught us, says Lysis; that we are not happy, commonly proceeds from ourselves, but we have not the capacity to acknowledge it. Thou art in the midst of the pleasures of the Country, which I come from far to search out, and thou art not content, for want of knowing how to enjoy them. Well, well, it shall not be long ere thou be packed hence, and other more noble persons shall come in thy place.  
Bertrand durst say no more after so rough a return: he resolved not to make any further enquiry into the affairs of his guests, so that he might still get by them. So the whole family went to bed: but there being but one bed for Lysis and Carmelin, the Master was not well pleased to be so disposed with this servant. 'Twas not that he disdained him; but because he was accustomed to lie alone, that he might be in what posture he pleased, and turn from one side to another in the midst of his reveries. The night before he had had a bed to himself at Clarimonds, and had need of it, having watched three nights together. This also he was resolved to sleep with Carmelin, who swore nevertheless the next day, that he never had such an ill night's rest, his Master had been so unquiet. They led their flock abroad to graze, a good distance that day; and being near a close of Oronte's, they saw Charite coming out of it all alone, so that they went forward to speak to her.  
This Wench having discovered by all the actions of Lysis, that he had indeed a great passion towards her, could not any longer wish him ill; considering also that the other maids of the house had put it into her head, that whatever folly he might carry about him, she must needs be very happy if she married him, since he was very rich. 'Tis true, Angelica knowing she was in that opinion, had maliciously endeavoured to put it out of her mind: That she might seem cruel to towards her servant, she had taught her certain things to say to Lysis, when ever he should speak to her, making her believe it were the way, to find out whether he loved her or no. Lysis having saluted her, and told her that he was come again to submit himself to her, and to know what commands she had to lay on him besides what she had told him at the last waiting on her. She answered him somewhat harsly, I command you not to obey me any more, and presently she returned the sameway she came, without any further ceremony; for so her Mistress had advised her to do, who had also taught her the foresaid discourse.  
Lysis was as insensible as a Stock; so that Carmelin seeing him fixed upright, and saying nothing, thought he slept standing, and came and pulled him by the skirts of his coat, for to awake him. Let me alone, says Lysis to him, why dost thou oblige we to speak. If I had been a quarter of an hour longer in my transportation, my history would have been by so much the more noble, and more admirable. But let us go hence, since thou wouldst have it so. I shall find my misery as well in one place as in another: Alas! my memory dogs me every where; it will ever represent to me the cruel words of Charite, I command you not to obey me any more, said she. O God what cruelty's this! After I had received so many testimonies of her good will, in two days she is changed, and will not have me obey her any more; which is as much as to say in one word▪ that she desires not to be any longer my Mistress, nor that I should be her servant: Wherein have I offended her? Let her tell me my offence, and if I am found guilty, I shall desire no other to ordain my punishment but a Busiris or a Phalaris.  
The disconsolate Shepherd uttered many such complaints as he walked along with Carmelin; and when he came to a path that led to Montenor's, he would needs go thither for to say something to Anselm. Having by good hap met with him, he asked him whether he had still in his Box the Echo of St. Clou, because he now thought it time to make some use of it; and that he had found a cave very fit to be its abode. Anselm answered him, that he had been very careful to preserve such a pretty little Nymphs, and that he thought it a fit time to present him with it. Upon that he left him, and returning again presently, he put into his hands a box, wherein he assured him the Echo was. Lysis having given him many thanks, returns with so much joy, as a little diverted the sadness which he had conceived at the disdain of Charite. But being withal very impatient, before he was come half way to the place where the little Nymph was to be disposed, he was so desirous to see her, that he opened the Box. As soon as the lid was off, the Sparrow which Anselm had put into it fled away; so that he soon lost the sight of it. Whither fliest thou? O most precious member of the body of the fairest Nymph that ever was, says the desolate Shepherd; my curiosity hath been as impertinent as that of Pandora, Aglaura and Psyche. Why did I not stay till I were come into a less spacious place then this? O Echo, Echo, where art thou?  
This he uttered as loud as he could, and yet there was not any Echo made answer. At length, being towards the evening come near the place of her abode, he cried out again, and heard an Echo, for indeed there was one there. If this be not the Echo I have lost says he, it is another as good. It must be thought there may be as excellent ones in Brie, as in the Isle of France. Dear Nymph, continues he, I have been ill treated by Charite this afternoon; will she continue her cruelty. The Echo answered Cruelty: And having asked her afterwards something else, she pronounced words, whence he could not dra any satisfaction; so that having presently met with Clarimond, he made his complaint to him. You are in a very great error, says Clarimond to him: you are to know, that if the Echo answers any thing to the purpose it is by chance; and of a hundred words, there may not be two wherein there is any sense. And whereas you find in Books a long train of answers that are very good, they have been purposely invented, and that with much difficulty. Besides, 'tis to no purpose to consult that oracle, it is a vain and ridiculous one. It knows little, since it says nothing but what it hath heard us say, and all it doth, is to repeat the last syllables of a period where we stop. You are deceived yourself, replies Lysis, if I had the Echo which I have now lost, it woold answer me to any thing I should ask it. I have elsewhere had experience of its skill. He thereupon related part of what the Echo had said to him at St. Clou. And indeed if we remember, though it was Anselm that made him immediate answers, yet had the replies much sense in them: And if it be wondered how that could be, and it be objected to me, that Clarimond thought the good answers of an Echo could not be brought about without pains; I shall be excused if I say, that besides that there was much hazard in the business, Lysis then ended his periods with certain words he had chosen long before, as the best he could find for to speak in to an Echo.  
After he had related that brave adventure, he told him what Anselm had presented him withal, and of his curiosity: which made Clarimond wonder at his folly more than ever. the Shepherd, when he had done that story, could not but tell him how the loss of his Echo had followed that of the favour and affection of Charite, as indeed misfortunes go ever in company. Clarimond having learned of him the words which his Mistress had said to him, told him presently; Shepherd, you have no reason to be any ways troubled: If Charite hath commanded you not to obey her any more, why will you obey her in this very command? What she hath said to you, signifies as much as if she had said nothing at all: She will not have you to obey her, and yet you see she commands you; she will not lay any further command on you, and yet she will have you to obey her: What may be concluded thence, but that you must take no notice of this last command, which you must not obey, and observe the former ones which oblige you to obedience? Lysis had much ado to comprehend the sense of this discourse: For Clarimond understood it not too well himself, and would needs explain one piece of Gibberish by another more obscure. However I must confess, says the Shepherd to him, dear friend! that thy subtlety is great, and that thy solutions are admirable. Yet my mind is still in disquiet, and I have some particular opinions which seem to me as like to be true as thine. Alas! I shall ever have a memory of those cruel words of Charite: I command you not to obey me any more. They will cause no that grief that I shall die of. Astraea never spoke any thing so harsh to Celadon, and yet he sticked not to cast himself into the River. All she said to him was, that he should go his ways, and never appear before her till he was commanded. This was easy to be understood, and could not put his mind into so much disquiet. Well, since you will not believe me, says Clarimond, the only remedy remains, is, to propose your difficulty to some Logicians: but for my part, I shall ever be of opinion, that we must do by this knot as Alexander did with that of Gordian; and that you must cut it asunder; if you cannot untie it. I can well yet have the patience, till I meet with a convenience for to ask Charite herself about it, says Lysis: Or in case that take not, I must communicate the business to the Doctors of Amorous Philosophy, which I intent to set up.  
Upon this resolution Lysis took leave of Clarimond, for to return to his lodging. Carmelin, who was already come home, had put up his Flock, and was thinking of the Kitchen, which was very empty and cold. After a sober supper, every one went to bed: But no sleep could fasten on sad Lysis; he did nothing all night but repeat the words of Charite: He would tell his man, that they caused him an affliction worse than death itself. There is indeed a great matter to be troubled at, answers Carmelin: Let us not obey her in this, since she will not have us to do it. Alas! replies Lysis, that's the same reason as Clarimond's: But I will maintain against all the world, that the meaning of Charite is, that she desired me not to obey her in any thing she hath heretofore commanded me. What commands were those? says Carmelin. 'Twas, replies Lysis, that I should not speak to her but in private. Nay, than you have a very shrewd turn done you, continueth Carmelin; you shall henceforth speak to her before all the world. Thou hast a judgement good enough, replies Lysis: but there is somewhat more than that in it; she also commanded me to believe all the admonitions she should give me; and now that she hath given me an order not to obey her, there is no question but I must resolve not to obey her. All this comes to what I said before, says Carmelin: That's it which I tell you, that since she commands you not to obey her, you must not do it. Do not obey her in this, Master: you take things in a contrary sense, and you trouble yourself without cause; you may observe that you contradict yourself in your discourses, and yet in spite of your teeth you are ever within two fingers breadth of the truth.  
These two Shepherds passed away the night in these and the like contestations, wherein they so distilled their spirits, that it was a fear they might lose what little remained. Though Carmelin had not studied so much as his Master, yet might he now be thought able to teach him what he ought to believe: For passion having blinded Lysis, made him take all things in the worst sense. When it was day, Lysis carried his Flock abroad, not willing to starve it, for to make it participate of his sadness. He met in his way a man in black, riding on a lean Hackney, who in one hand held the bridle, and in the other a bowl and a glass-bottle. You'll not be displeased, Sir, if I ask you who you are, and whence you come, says the Shepherd to him, who was somewhat amazed to see him in that posture. I am an Apothecary, at your service, replies the other: I have been administering some physic at Orontes' to a servant-maid called Catherine. She that you speak of is the Shepherdess Charite, replies Lysis; but that's no great matter, it's but a mistake: Tell me what she is sick of. 'Tis no great matter she is troubled with, replies the Apochecary; she had a mind to be purged, for to be freed of some little pains she felt in her members, as being somewhat rheumatic. I have need to be purged too, and that without delay, replies Lysis: I will go to bed presently: Do me the favour to bring me my physic as soon as may be; my lodging is at Bertand's, the Vine-dresser.  
He had no sooner spoke the last word, but the Apothecary, who desired nothing but employment, promised to bring him very suddenly what he desired. He began to spur his Tit with the points of nails which he had fastened to the heels of his shoes in stead of spurs, and in a little time he came to Coulommiers where his shop was. Lysis seeing him departed, leaves the sheep in the custody of Carmelin, and went very seriously into bed. The Apothecary being returned, gave him the Physic he had prepared for him, and received the ordinary rate for it. In the mean time Clarimond walking abroad met Carmelin, and enquired of him where his master was. He answered him, he was sick, and that he was to take a Purge. So that Clarimond went to see him, and asked him what was his indisposition. Methinks I feel in my stomach some extraordinaay crudities, says Lysis; the reason whereof I conceive can be no other, then that I have yet some relics of the nature of the Tree: I would fain be rid of all these encumbrances, that my digestion may be more free: It may be there is yet some part of me that is wood, and haply hath not yet fully arrived to the tenderness of flesh. Entertain no such imagination, says Clarimond: Hircan's a person so able, that he hath perfectly put you into your former condition; you are better in health then ever you were Before you had taken physic, you should have considered, that whereas it should do you good if you were sick, it will do you so much the more hurt since you are well. I am to tell you a story to this purpose: I brought home with me on a time three of my friends to my own house, where we debauched it four days together; the fifth day in the morning I represented unto them the excess we had used before, and began to remonstrate to them that our bodies could not but be in some danger, if we did not purge, and so disperse the ill humours which we had gathered together. They all believed me; so I sent for an Apothecary, who brought every one his dose. We lay all four in my chamber, two in a bed. When every one was presented with his glass, and that I observed my Comrades began to make wry faces, Take courage, said I to them, let's shut our eyes, that we may not see any thing; he that shall have dispatched first, shall pay nothing. As soon as I had said so, they made all the haste possible to take off their Physic: but while they took no notice of me, I cast mine besides the bed, and presently jumped into the midst of the room, and began to laugh at the rest; and that when they were the most sick at heart, and in the midst of their gripe and wry-faces. Then did they discover my knavery, but were fain to take all in jest. I made it appear to them, that I stood not so much in need of Physic as they did, and that it came not amiss to them; though out of indignation to see that I had taken none, they were in a manner ready to cast it up. I did very well not to purge myself, when I had no other reason but a merry humour; and you have done as ill to presume on the same remedy without necessity, or the advice of any Physician. I have no other Physician than Love, says Lysis, 'tis he hath written me a receipt upon his own headband. Assure yourself, there is in this a secret greater than you imagine; and though I should have found myself in no indisposition at all, yet should I not have abstained from physic. I believe you have read in the Poets, that Lovers are obliged to conform themselves to the humours, qualities and actions of their Mistresses. They are sad in their sadnesses, sick in their diseases, joyful in their joy, and healthful in their health; they laugh, when they see them laugh; they weep, to see them weep, sharing with them both in their delights and their torments. Now having been informed that Charite was ill, how could it possibly be I should be well? You will no longer wonder that I am a-bed, and have taken physic; for having understood that she had taken some, I would needs imitate her, that so I might observe those Laws which Love lays upon me. But O the wonderful fate of my happiness! I have made use of no other Apothecary, than what she had; the same hand presented us both with the glass, and the glass I drank out of, was the very same whence she had already drunk; and there wanted nothing, but to know which side she had put her lips, that so I might have put mine in the same place. This being past, we must believe, says Clarimond, that there remains now nothing, which we might call excellent to be done in the world. You have accomplished a thing, which even the most faithful Lovers never imagined; and the miracles of your history will be more remarkable than those of all the Fables. All this is as much as nothing, replies Lysis, 'tis a long time since I have given myself up to these amorous conformities. I eat not any thing but what Charite loves and likes; I am only pleased in that wherein she is, If she wipe her nose, I wipe mine too; if she spit on the floor, I endeavour to do so too, though I should thereby dry up my lungs, and spit five hundred times before I hit the mark: if she chance to walk before me, I strive to put my feet in the same place where she had trod before; and I put myself into all the posture which I see her in, as if I played with her that game, wherein a man must do all he sees done. You add miracle to miracle, says Clarimond I am infinitely glad to hear all this from your own mouth; for if I had had the relation from another, I should not so easily have believed it, though the Relaters should have bequeathed themselves to all the Catchpoles of Pluto.  
Clarimond having in dismission of this discourse entertained Lysis a while with other, left him, for to go home to dinner; and there being served to the table a good sort of Broth, he sent some to the poor sick person. The rest of that day his Hostess took charge of him: and Carmelin being returned in the evening out of the fields, was very inquisitive to know how he did: who told him, that his sickness was nothing, so that Charite were recovered; and that assoon as it were day he must needs have some account of her. Carmelin it's supposed, slept not much, he rise before it was quite day, and went to Orontes' Castle. By that time he was there, they were all arising; where having met with one of Leonora's maids, he asked her whether the Mistress of the Shepherd Lysis were still sick? and if there were no means to speak with her. She is sicker than she was yesterday (answers the maid, who knew well enough whom he spoke of) she must sleep yet a while▪ since yesterday in the evening she hath had a swelling over her cheek, and one eye, so that she hardly sees any thing, and she hath her face half swathed about: she must be let blood anon, for to divert the humour.  
Carmelin having received this answer, returned to his Master to tell it him. When he knew it, he fell into an unspeakable affliction, yet not willing to be defective in the imitation of Charite, he said he would be let blood as well as she. Carmelin knew not where there was any Chirurgeon; but his host directed him to a village close by, where there was one. He was ready to be gone to fetch him, when Lysis cries out, Stay, stay Carmelin, I will have no other Chirurgeon but my Mistresses, thou must know who that is. Go again to Orontes', thou wilt find him there yet: but before thou goest, find me out some linen or other, and bind up my eye and my cheek. To what end, says Carmelin; you all nothing there! Ah! Stupidity! cries out Lysis: Can Charite all any thing which I must not feel? Now that she hardly sees anything; wouldst thou have me have my perfect light? Now that she hath the use but of one eye, must I enjoy both? I will have but one eye no more than she.  
Lysis seeing, notwithstanding all this, that Carmelin did not much make it his business to get him some linen, reached his breeches and took out his handkerchief, which he gave him to bind up his face withal: But now there happens a great controversy in his mind, because he knew not which cheek it was that Charite had swollen. Carmelin told him he had not remembered to ask whether it were the right or the left: So that his Master, for fear of mistaking, thought it most secure to bind up all his face. Carmelin answers, that that were not to any purpose, and that it were best stay till the Chirurgeon were come, who should resolve him on which cheek he ought to all any thing: So having presently given the flock in charge to Bertrands son, he returned to Orontes', to satisfy Lysis' humours, which were not a little troublesome to him. He came thither just in the nick; for he met with a Chirurgeon of Coulommiers, who was coming out. He entreated him to come and let his Master blood. The Chirurgeon had no horse, so that he was fain to go along with him a foot as far as Bertrands. When he asked Lysis in which arm he would be bled; the Shepherd told him, in the same arm as the fair Lady he had let blood at Orontes'. The Chirurgeon having told him it was the left, he took his, and took at least three Porringers of blood. I fear me it is on the left cheek that that fair one ails somewhat, says Lysis. You are in the right Sir, replies the Chirurgeon. Bind up mine too then, replies the Shepherd. You have no swelling there as she hath, says the other; why should I do so? You will not do it? replies Lysis; let Carmelin do it then. Thereupon Carmelin willing to obey him, came and bound up half his face: And the Chirurgeon being ready to be gone, Lysis spoke to him to this purpose; If you would have me esteem you any thing, learn the art of Chirurgery otherwise than you have. Observe, that amorous wounds are much more dangerous than those you dress every day; and that experience teaches us, that a Mistress is never in any sickness, wherein the servant sympathizes not with her; and in a Love-disease, instead of one sick person there are ever two.  
The Chirurgeon after this discourse, received his gratuity, and went away much amazed. Lysis having put his arm in a scarf, bid Carmelin help him on with his clothes. As he walked up and down the house, comes in Clarimond, who was very careful to know in what posture he was. Seeing him with all his swathings about him, he asked him what hurt had happened to him since. Lysis told him, that he would needs be let blood, and swathed as Charite was, who had a swelling on her cheek. The imitation is very noble, says Clarimond to him; but it is not to the full, for methinks you should have your face swollen, as well as your Mistress. That's it I would have persuaded him to, replies, Carmelin: and he should either have given himself, or got another to give him a many good blows, to make his eyes swell. Thy knavery is not the least in the world, says Lysis, hold thou thy peace, there's no body speaks to thee. As for your part Clarimond, you are to know, that I was not only comment to have the left eye bound up, but that a while since, I would needs have them both, not knowing which it was that should be. Carmelin being gone to fetch the Chirurgeon, before he had bound me them up, I have always kept my hand on them, lest I might see any thing: for is it not fit the eyes of a Lover should be obscured, when one of their suns shine not? As for my letting of blood, besides that it is in imitation of Charite, it is otherwise very good for me; but especially for this reason, that I have been much pleased to see my blood. Look on't Clarimond, you shall see therein the pourtraicture of my Mistress: for all my veins are filled with that fair figure, which takes up all my thoughts. Clarimond beheld the blood, and to satisfy Lysis, said, that he saw therein somewhat resembling a face. With that little sight that is left me, says Lysis to him, I can see Charite there in her whole proportion. For your part, should you observe nothing, 'twere not your fault, but it were Loves, who would not permit you to see any thing therein,  
Clarimond having some business elsewhere left Lysis; being now assured, that he was sick of a disease, which no Physic or Phelbotomy could cure. He purposely sent a Lackey to Montenor and Anselm, to acquaint them with the late actions of the Shepherd. Had they not been taken up in the entertainment of some that were come to visit them, they had given this poor patient a visit.  
The night being come, Lysis went to bed as he was wont, but much rest he had not, so much did the remembrance of his Mistresses command disturb his thoughts. He was ever at Carmelin with his elbow, for to awake him, and to put him to some new explications of it. I cannot endure to repeat the same thing so often, says Carmelin to him, or at least, stay till it be day for to question me. The night is only made to sleep, would you have me less happy than the beasts, which now are every where asleep. I'll lay you a wager there is not at this present one of our sheep awake. Wilt thou conform thyself to the beasts? replies Lysis, 'tis a bruital felicity that thou desirest. The night is not only ordained to sleep in, but also to consult about affairs: Know that the greatest wits and ingenuities are they that resist the charms of sleep, to entertain themselves with their imaginations. The Lovers are they also that have this custom, and especially among them the Shepherd Lysis. All the fault thou art guilty of in not imitating me, proceeds from this, that thou hast yet thy Liberty. O what a prodigy it is to see a Shepherd so free! Thou ought'st rather be Soul-less, then Love-less. But it is true, that I foresee thou wilt shortly be put into the chain as well as the rest. Love is importunate, till he wound those that resist him; and none loves more passionately, than a cold disposition, as thine is, when it begins to be inflamed. Whether it be so or not, it's no great matter, says Carmelin; but for the present I am so desirous to rest myself, that though they should cry, Fire, I would not rise, whether they should mean the fire of Love, or that of the Chimney.  
This discourse ended, the two Shepherds spoke no more one to another. When it was day, they put on their clothes both together, and for company-sake went abroad with the flock: while they drove it still before them, being near a farm of Hircans, where they had not yet been, Lysis made a sign to Carmelin; and said to him, if I am not deceived, I hear the sound of a rural instrument, without question we are now in the Shepherd's Country. Carmelin confessed, that he also heard somewhat very harmonious: And descending into a little valley, they perceived a Shepherd playing on the Bagpipes. Lysis being come near him, Pan defend thee gentle Shepherd, says he to him, I am ravished to see thee, it is a long time since I saw any of our quality, thy entertainment here is very delightful. Thou inspirest the holes of thy sweet sounding-pipe. Now am I certain thou art no idle person; had I my Gittarrhe here, we should make a consort together.  
This Shepherd, who was a Country fellow, simple enough, was amazed to see Lysis and Carmelin in the posture they were in, that he viewed them one after another from head to foot; insomuch, that Lysis seeing he said nothing, continued his discourse. Dost thou think, says he to him, that the instrument thou playest on is more proper for those of our quality then the Gittarrhe? Were I sure of it, I would learn on the Bagpipes, to the end I might be Pastoral in all things. Master, says Carmelin, though I cannot play well on the Bagpipes, yet I can do somewhat at the Flute. Here's one says Hircans Shepherd, le's see what you can do. Carmelin took the Flute out of his hands, and began to play Gueridon's tune, and the other Shepherd bore a part with the Bagpipe, whereat Lysis was very well satisfied. When they had dismissed their instruments: My Lads, says Lysis to them, your music is sweeter to the ear, than the noise of a brook that slides through the pebbles 'Tis delightful to hear the plaints of a Heifer, when Love pricks her; sweet is the singing of a Swan, that's dying, sweet is the warbling of the nightingale, sweet is the honey, which is prepared by the little bees; sweet is the sugar of Madera: but far more sweet are you Pastoral instruments. Some other time I will make you talk of Eclogues, after the manner of Theocritus, Virgil and Ronsard; and I will present him that shall do best with a basket of flowers, a birds-cage; a cheese-basket, or some fine garland. In good faith, I did not think Carmelin could have done so much: O how much worthier do I now esteem him to make a Shepherd, than I did before. However, I will not learn to play on the Flute as he doth, nor yet on the Bagpipes: For I remember I have heard it said, that Minerva beholding herself in a fountain, while she played on the Flute, she cast it away immediately, because she seemed too deformed in that action, wherein one must over-swell his cheeks. I will not disfigure my countenance. The Lute, the Guitarrhe, the Viol, the Bandore, and the Timbrel are for us Shepherds of better quality; the Flute, the Oaten-pipe, and the Bagpipe, for Shepherds of a lower degree, as Carmelin, and some others of this Country. Since you are my Master, says Carmelin, there is no question but I am below you: yet I should wish I might not be called Servant, as there are some that do call me so. I should desire to have a more honourable title: All the reason in the world, Carmelin; says Lysis: I declare thee my Commissary in what shall concern Shepherdry, as Anselm hath his Commissaries in the business of the revenues: Thy principal charge shall be to have a care of my flocks, when I am not in place. Carmelin was very well satisfied with this dignity, and his Master having bidden farewell to Hircans Shepherd, as he also had done, they drove their sheep before them into another place: leaving the other so astonished to see those two Shepherds marching after so wretched a flock, that it was one of the strangest things he had ever seen.  
Having left him, they marched on still for a good while; and at length sitting down near a fountain, they are bread, and drank water. Carmelin was not the best pleased at this entertainment, this was not the life his Master put him in hopes of. He thought he should have had none but Wedding-days, whereas they made him temperate in spite of his teeth. Having been so ill treated as to cheer, he must dispatch for Orontes' for an account of Charite's disposition; which employment would have gone much to his heart, were there not some hope they might have so much consideration as to make him drink.  
Lysis being left alone, his flock and his dog rather led, then were guided by him; he followed them still, never considering whither they led him. The sickness of his Mistress was all the business of his thoughts. While he was in this contemplation, one of his sheep clambered up a little hillock, whereon was a tree, and grass all about it; another presently seconds it: but Lysis having struck at the former with his sheephook, it went round the tree, and came down; the second did the like; As also a third, that also was gotten up, and then a fourth and a fifth; and so did they all, even to the last. The first sheep seeing the rest gotten up, got up again, and came down, the rest did the like after it, going still about the tree, as being a sort of creatures, whose nature being to do what they see the rest do, they would never have gotten into their way, before they had all been where they had seen their companions. They would have clambered up, and come down, and would have gone about still, had there not passed by a man that put an end to the sport; for Musedor, which was not trained up to Shepherdry, and could do nothing but bark at those that passed by, drew them not together; and as for Lysis, he was so surprised with the sport, that he could have wished it might have lasted to the world's end. He who was come into the place, came and embraced him; and to take him out of his Transportation, said to him, Heaven bless thee! King of the Shepherds of Brie, but rather of all Europe, nay of all the earth: How fortunate am I to have met thee? Fame having conveyed thy name and merit into Burgundy, which is my Country, I was presently seized with a desire to come and learn of thee the art to become happy. Lysis having retreated three steps to view the man, who was clad like a Shepherd as himself, he found he knew him not; and yet conceiving himself obliged to him for the pains he had taken to find him, he went and embraced him again, and said to him, Welcome, gentle Shepherd, since thou art the first that casts himself into the arms of my protection, I swear to thee thou shalt be the first of whom I shall take care. I have no more to beg then thy name, that I may know whom I am obliged to. My name is Philiris, replies the Shepherd. Ah! what an excellent good name is that! says Lysis: how easy it is to see that thou art a Shepherd by birth! I make no question but thy history must be the noblest in all the world; wilt thou do me the favour to tell it me? I will tell thee even to those things, whereof there are yet none conscious but the Rocks and the Woods, answers Philiris: But let us find some place where coolness dwells; for this is so open and so hot, that it seems to be no other than that wherein Nature was delivered of the Sun.  
Hereupon the two Shepherds took their way to a Thicket that was hard by, while there passes by a Coach wherein were Orontes, Florida, Leonora, Angelica, Anselm, Montenor, Clarimond, and Carmelin, whom the Ladies had newly taken up, poor Rogue as he was, to make some sport with. They all presently lighted, and Orontes told Lysis, that taking the air in the fields, they had met his Journy-man Shepherd, who had acquainted them that he was sick of the same disease as his Mistress. Lysis answered, that Carmelin had said nothing but what was true; and so was putting himself into a posture to make long narrations; but he hears certain cries that made him be silent. Putting his finger on his mouth, as a sign to the rest, he drew near the thicket whence the noise came, and all followed him very leisurely, till they came to certain trees, among which they saw two men clothed in white Taffeta, having very fine Scrips hanging in scarves, Strawn-hats on their heads, and painted Sheephooks in their hands.  
They made as if they heeded not those that dogged them; and one of them being lain down on the earth as it had been to sleep, the other began this complaint.  
Gentle Zephirs, who reign in these places! were there ever sadder sighs than mine mingled with your breathe? Ye Trees who are now so green, have you ever seen fires as mine, which are such as would dry you up to the very roots? And you Springs, were your waters warmed by any tears bigger than mine? O than you Zephirs, Trees, and Springs, if ever my Shepherdess come hither, tell her what you have seen me suffer. But alas! you are deaf as well as dumb, O dear witnesses of my martyrdom. There's none but Polidor that is able to succour me. What doth that faithful friend think on? hath he no compassion on one in his own condition? How wilt thou have me assist thee, dear Meliantes! answers that Polidor: Knowest thou not that I want comfort more than thyself? She that I adore will not believe my love; and not meeting with any signal occasions to make it appear I am so miserable that I must wish her some misfortune, that I may show my affection in her relief. Having the other day withdrawn my eyes from hers, which dazzled me, I fixed them on her neck, thinking there they might be more safe: But O God that Neck is Snow; 'twas her design to make me lose an eye, as Hannibal did by fixing his too much on the snow of the Alps. Nor can I indeed do any thing, but I am tormented by some fresh accident; and as Mithridates lived by poison, so do I on amorous thoughts. Ah wretch that I am, what shall I do then, cries out Meliantes, since Heaven, Fate, Nature, my Mistress, and Polidor forsake me? I am now on the amorous sea, where a tempest whirls about my ship; but though it should be sunk, and I put to fortune, yet if I can but embrace the neck of my Goddess, that fair pillar of white marble planted above two living rocks, I shall escape shipwreck.  
Thus far was Meliantes gone, when Lysis not being able to refrain speaking any longer, cries out, God be praised! I have found what I looked for. How learned are these Shepherds! they speak altogether by Allusions and Metaphors. The Shepherd Polidor upon that starts up, and looking on him, Philiris, and Carmelin, Which of you three, says he, is the servant of the fair Charite? That am I, and no other, replies Lysis. O happy day to us, continued Polidor: It is a long time since my Comrade and I have been to seek you: Seeing you all three of a good complexion, I knew not which was Lysis. You are then to know that Love plays the cruel Tyrant over us; and we believe there is not any one in the world of whom we might hope better advice and direction then from you, in our affairs. I am a true Physician of minds, replies Lysis: Tell me that of yours, and I will prescribe you excellent remedies. This made Polidor weep, and wiping his eyes with a handkerchiff, You will oblige me to repeat and renew strange torments, says he; I should not desire so soon to thrust the weapon again into my wounds: I should cry too loud, and importune the ears of these Knights and Nymphs that are in your attendance; I am bashful before so many. Let Meliantes speak then, replies Lysis. Who, I? answers the other: I have need of whole ages to prepare myself to relate the history of my adventures: I have so many things to say, that when I should once begin, there cannot a word proceed from my mouth, no more than there do drops of water out of a cup that is overfilled. Ah! Love, who art the bestower of these torments, after thou hast taken away my heart, wilt thou deprive me of the liberty to complain? And if thou putst me every day to the rack, is it to any other end but to make me confess all my secrets? Tyrant, Executioner! cut out my tongue, or suffer me to tell what I endure.  
In saying this, Meliantes beat the ground with his foot, and began to put himself into such postures as none but a mad man could be guilty of. So that Lysis taking him by the arm, endeavoured to give him the best consolations he could. In the mean time, most that were present looked one on another, and were silent out of amazement: They imagined that Polidor and Meliantes were no wiser than Lysis, and that the other Shepherd he had brought with him was not much behind them. But it is not to be conceived that Nature could furnish three men sick of the same disease as the Extravagant Shepherd, who must be individual in his kind. However they knew not what to think, and they saw great demonstrations of folly in those new Shepherds. Lysis having appeared, Meliantes says to Clarimond, that he was very glad of his presence at the rencontre of the Shepherds, that in his history he might set down the true relation: And that as for the meeting with Philiris and another Shepherd, he had seen that played on the Bagpipes, he would give him the particulars. I tell thee this freely, continues he, because I believe thou hast already begun the Book of my Loves. As for my part, that I am lodged near thy Castle, 'tis principally because thou mightst be more particularly informed of my adventures: And for the same reason thou didst well to come and see me when I was sick, that thou mightst quote my several fits. Will you not also have me speak punctually of your Physic, replies Clarimond; shall I count your stools, and tell with what paper you wiped your breech, as for example, if it were with some Letter the stile whereof was as smooth as cotton, or with some Verses which were as sharp as awls, so that they bled you behind? You are very much in the right to give me this direction; for 'tis now adays the mode with some to make Books of the relation of their diseases; and there are some will needs insert the business of their Apothecary. Do as thou shalt think fit, says Lysis. Sir, says Carmelin, putting off his hat to Clarimond, will you not also write my history? I beseech you Sir; I shall think myself as much obliged to you as my Master. I will certainly do it, nay, I will write the history of thy Dog. I thank you Sir, replies Carmelin: but I give you notice of one thing, that is, that you call me not Lackey nor Servingman; I am a Lieutenant or Commissary in the business of Shepherdry. How now, Impudence and importunity together! (says Lysis taking Carmelin by the arm) be it sufficient that thou art spoken of as appearing in some of my adventures, though it be to carry a Letter, or do some message. What, dost thou expect a particular History, who never didst accomplish any thing which may not be written in impalpable paper with invisible ink, or on the surface of the waters with a feather taken out of the wings of the wind? Is it not a shame to see thee as big as thy father or mother, that yet hast done nothing noble? Where didst thou ever make any Verses, or bestow a Serenade on a Mistress, or hast gone through some adventure worthy to be recommended to posterity?  
Carmelin being somewhat cast down at this rude reproof, retreated scratching his head: but as he was going to make some excuse, the three Shepherds came and told Lysis, that their loves were impatient, and that they would bring him to one of their friends, whom they would gladly consult with about their affairs. So they carried him and Carmelin away, and amazed the company so much the more; for if one said, I'll stab myself to be revenged of the cruelty of my Mistress, another swore he would cast himself headlong down some rock: and they seemed to be so extravagant, that Lysis appeared as wise in comparison of them, as Socrates the Philosopher. This bred in every one a desire to be acquainted with them, yet they followed them not, because they thought they would not so suddenly leave the Country, and that they might be seen at leisure some other time. The Gentlemen and Ladies got into the coach again, and made an end of their walk.  
In the mean time the five Shepherds having crossed certain thickets, came into a little meadow, where two men and a woman were walking. One of them was Hircan, whom Lysis knew presently; and the other was Fontenay, whom he had not known, had he not been named, because he was not clad in scarlet, as he was wont, but had a suit of white Taffeta. As for the fair Lady which was with them, it was Synopa; yet the Shepherd having told Lysis, that she was a Shepherdess called Parthenice, that they had brought with them, he believed it, because she had on a white petticoat, which she was not used to wear. O how like is this Parthenice to a Nymph of the waters that I know, says he then. You are much in the right, says Carmelin to him softly: I believe she is the very same, yet must I withal think she is none of the she-devils of your Sabath, since she is pleased to be seen in the day. Would you be content I should fall in love with her? Strike on Carmelin, it will be very well done, says Lysis; methinks I see Love having his Bow ready to shoot at thee; open thy breast, and prepare thyself to receive that wound. Quickly, do what I bid thee. Carmelin would not disobey his Master, being so surprised with joy, that he knew not what he did; for he had ever believed what his Master said, that there was no more to do but to choose a wench; and that he would cause her to be given him in marriage, be she never so rich, or never so handsome. Hircan having by this time perceived them, came on and saluted them. Are you not now well-pleased in so good company? says he to Lysis: Those Shepherds have travelled up and down long ere they could find you. Any one will be a Shepherd with you, and here's my Cousin hath put on the habit for to follow you. He is much to be commended, replies Lysis, out of that consideration I pardon him the affront he did me: It hath been heavy on my heart ever since: But you shall enjoin him never to offer at me any more, really, or so much as in thought. I should abjure all kindred with him if he do: but think no more on it, replies Hircan: He is now as gentle as a Lamb, we will henceforward lead a peaceable life, and it is my desire to become a Shepherd as well as the rest. Do not so by any means, sage Hircan, says Lysis: do you not know, that in every good Pastoral, there is ever a Magician, who is never habited as the other Shepherds; so also must the Priests keep in their Sacerdotal Vestments, and the Satyrs continue in their nakedness. Hircan having granted him this, they with great admiration viewed the swathings about his head; and the Shepherd Fontenay could not refrain ask him, What ails your left eye, Shepherd, have you received some blow on it? Must we all have our faces bound for our accommodation of being Shepherds? This is particular to me, answers Lysis, this binding up of my face is in imitation of my Mistress, who at present is in this posture; imitate thou thine in other things, as thou shalt think fit. But observe my incomparable secret: Charite hath refused to honour me with any of her commands; and for want of her commands, to comfort myself, I do what I see her do; so that by my own miraculous subtlety, I still obey her in spite of her teeth, But 'tis very well remembered (says he, turning to Carmelin) hast thou any tidings how that fair one does? I could not go and see her, for these Gentlemen stayed me, and got me into the coach, replies Carmelin: yet thus much I have learned, that her disease neither advances nor declines. Let heaven do its pleasure, replies Lysis, but as long as she shall be bound up, I will be so too. This binding makes you I know not how more graceful, says Fontenay, and yet you are not as yet but half Cupid; for you are but half blind. By the borns of Pan thou art ingenious, says Lysis; thou wilt advance; Thy meeting is fortunate, and I dare tell thee, that though I am not Cupid, I am at least such a one as could give him birth in the world, were he not already.  
While Lysis spoke this, Carmelin twiching him behind, asked him softly, What shall I say to this fair one? Offer her thy service, and go no farther for the first time. Carmelin presently thinking his designs could not but have a fair issue; went and said to Synopa, Madam, if you have any occasion for a servant as faithful as any in the world, behold the Shepherd Carmelin offers himself to you, 'Twere to be known what wages you would have (answers Parthenice very coldly) but indeed I am not at leisure to think of that now. Having so spoken, she whispered somewhat to Hircan and Fontenay: after which, they left Lysis, and took their way by an obscure path, so that they were presently out of sight. Carmelin thought they had somewhat to do together; but Hircan and Fontenay being soon returned, they brought not Synopa with them; so that he took the boldness to ask them where she was. Hircan told him, he had left her on the brow of a hillock, entertaining herself with her own imaginations. He would have gone just then to seek her, but his Master going along with Hircan and the Shepherds, hindered the design. They were come very near the Castle of this Magician, when they saw a very handsome woman issuing out of the grove: She was habited like the Shepherdess on a stage; and for her countenance, it could not more resemble that of Lucida than it did, for indeed it was she. Yet Hircan having said it was a Shepherdess called Amaryllis, Lysis firmly believed it. This is the day of Miracles, said the Shepherd; behold here's a Shepherdess in my judgement is very like an aquatic Nymph, whose image is graven in my mind, though I saw her only by Moonlight. There is the same resemblances of faces in all your Romances: Those which hold them impossible, why are they not here now to acknowledge their error?  
Hereupon Amaryllis came and did reverence to the company; and Hircan seeing it was time to retire, asked Lysis whether he would do him the honour to sup with him. He thanked him very kindly for the civiltty; but for this time he must decline it, as not thinking fit to keep festivals, while his Mistress was sick. So all the Shepherds bid him adieu till the next day, that they were all to meet again in the same place, for to relate their several fortunes. In the return Carmelin drew his Master towards the place where it was said Parthenice was. It was a piece of overgrown ground, where there grew nothing but weeds; and there was in the midst, a great stone, which was at least two farthoms square: but as for the Shepherdess, she appeared not any where. Give over thy search Carmelin (says Lysis, with a scattered sight, as if he had spoken like a Prophet) thy Parthenice hath clearly changed her nature: Seest thou not, that the Gods willing to punish her cruelty, have metamorphosed her into a Rock? That's not credible, Master, says Carmelin; she only said one poor word to me, whereat I took no offence What she said to thee, was full of malicious derision, replies Lysis, when she spoke to thee of wages, after thou hadst proffered her thy service; she would show thee that thou wert much below her, and that she thought thee fit to be her servingman, and not her servant in Love. Thou hadst not the apprehension to make answer to it: shouldst not thou have said that thou deservedst no other wages than her favour? My mind was taken up in the contemplation of her, says Carmelin; and besides, I assure you, I thought not that that word touched me so much to the quick; and I am still to avow, that not finding it any thing considerable in comparison of the rigours of others, which sometimes last ten years, I cannot believe she hath been changed into a stone for so small a matter. Then it seems thou hast not read Ovid. Carmelin, replies Lysis, all the persons which that Author mentions as metamorphosed, have suffered upon the first occasion they gave the Gods to do it: as for Example, Apollo had no sooner pursued his Daphne, nor Pan his Syrix, but those two wenches slighting the love of the Gods, the one was changed into a Laurel, and the other into a Reed. You have read more than I have, says Carmelin; I am very glad to receive your instructions, and in amends I will tell you what comes into my mind. It's likely your Magician, of whom I have heard wonders, hath promoted the Metamorphosis: but when I shall believe it, what have I to do? Weep and sigh night and day, replies Lysis, that's the discipline befits a Lover that hath lost his Mistress: And then my company will not be tedious to thee, because if I complain of one side, thou wilt of the other. For my part, I shall ever speak of the Command without Command of Charite. And in the mean time, says Carmelin, I shall never cease speaking of the Metamorphosis without Metamorphosis of Parthenice. Thou dost imitate my language very unhandsomely, replies Lysis: 'Tis very true, Charite hath commanded me without commanding me; but 'tis not the same thing to say, that the Gods have metamorphosed thy Shepherdess without metamorphosing her: She is really changed, and see if that stone be not white as her complexion and clothes. In a certain place at the top, which should be the head, seest thou not certain marks which approach to red, and others which come near black? They are the places where her eyes and mouth were: There are lower certain pieces which seem not to be well joined together; they are the arms, which are not at all fastened to the bulk of the body.  
Carmelin considered all this; and though he believed but the least part of it, yet his Master having told him, that before he leave the place he must do all honour to that stone, he was forced to go and kiss it: But because Lysis thought he went not to it with affection enough, he with much fierceness struck his nose against it.  
In their return to Bertrand's, the faithful Lover of Charite ceased not to think of the last answer of that fair one, which because of its obscurity seemed to him an oracle. But observing that Carmelin conducting the Flock went along with much indifferency, What! says he to him, weepest thou not, poor Lover? hast thou already forgotten that this day thou hast as soon lost as found one of the fairest Mistresses in the world? What would you have me do? replies Carmelin; my eyes are not so soft. Why dost thou not answer me, replies Lysis, that tears are the demonstrations of light griefs, of great ones astonishment? I excuse thee if thou canst not yet show great testimonies of grief: To morrow it will be thy business, when thou shalt begin to remember thyself. Thou hast seen the actions of those amorous Shepherds which we have met; thou must not be less desperate than they, but shouldst imitate them in all things.  
Carmelin answered Lysis, that he would ever think on things present, and that on the morrow he should see what he had to do. This discourse was their entertainment till they came home, where they housed their poor sheep, which were so tired with driving up and down, that they were ready to fall on their noses. Lysis having supped with Bertrand's people, went to bed with Carmelin, repeating still in his mind his several adventures; and the last thing he said before he fell asleep, was, that he was sure that Fame was so desirous to render him still more glorious, that she was already grown hoarse with the common cries she had made of him in all parts of the world.  
The End of the Sixth Book.   

THE Anti-Romance; OR, THE HISTORY Of the SHEPHERD LYSIS.  
The Seventh Book.  
LYsis waking at the break of day, fell presently into consideration of the light of the Sun, that passing through his Chamber-window, shined upon him as he lay. How happy art thou bright Star? says he; not because thou guidest the seasons, and causest the fruits to ripen; but because thou hast eyes which throw abroad an infinity of beams, and by that means mayest see two things at once; as now beholding Lysis, mayest at the same time take a view of Charite. Why have not I the same power, that I may never be distant from the centre of my thoughts and desires? Whilst the amorous Shepherd was a saying this, he perceived that Carmelin was still asleep; so that jogging of him twice or thrice, he awaked him. Why dost not thou begin the morning as well as I, with speaking some handsome thing? says he to him. Why do you not let me alone? says the other▪ Do you not see that I attentively listened to you? Ah! fool, replies Lysis; am I not certain thou wert asleep? have I not heard thee snore, and have I not seen how thou hadst thy mouth and nostrils open? now you are in the right, replies Carmelin; you are to imagine that I opened my mouth to give utterance to some good saying, and in the mean time you have made me lose it, and it's now fled so far out of my mind, that I shall not recover it a good while. Such discourses Carmelin, says Lysis, become those that celebrate the feasts of Bacchus, or are ready to untie the girdle of a Bride, after they have invoked Hymen in a cheerful Epithalamium: But for thy part, who hast all the reason in the world to be afflicted, I do not think fit thou shouldst jest it away, if it be not to show thou hast lost thy wits with thy hopes: Were it only to observe a decorum in thy love, thou shouldst ever speak somewhat like a distracted man, and run thy head against the wall, or the bedposts. It shall be against the pillow, if I do it at all; I believe one as good as the other. That were indeed better then to do nothing at all, replies Lysis, for there the ceremony were still preserved; but trouble not thy head any farther about it, put on thy clothes rather, and return to the place where thy Mistress was metamorphosed. Thou wilt be more moved by the object of that new rock, then by any thing now in thy memory; and I hope that my remonstrances will then have more influence on thee than they have now. Besides that, I have some extraordinary business in that place; so that whatever comes on't, we must make all the haste that may be thither.  
Lysis in so saying, being gotten up, Carmelin was obliged to imitate him; so that they were both in a manner ready together. They had designed the performance of so many things that day, that they thought not fit to carry the flock abroad with them, but commended it to the charge of their Landlords son. Lysis being thus freed of all care, would in the first place go and see Clarimond. He found him in his study writing. Truly friend, says he to him, I am glad to see thee so industrious; for it cannot be but among so many several things of thy composition, thou must needs remember to bestow somewhat on my adventures. Do me the favour to read to me what thou hast already begun. Clarimond, who had not yet troubled his head with writing any thing for him, desired him to have a little patience, till what he had done were somewhat more refin'd, if he would see somewhat. Lysis was satisfied, and having caused this Historian to lay down his pen, he told him he came to desire his company into the fields, that he might bear witness of the noblest actions in the world.  
By that time they had gone a pretty way, they were come to the place where was the rock of Parthenice. Fontenay and Phyliris were there already: and the first thing they did was to embrace the Shepherd, swearing to him they had had no rest in his absence; and that they were gotten up two hours before day to seek him. Having thanked them for their good will, he told them of a design he had to erect a rural Temple to his Mistress, and that without jesting, that was the occasion of his making so much haste thither. It would not be amiss to build it in this place, says Clarimond, here's a great even stone that may well serve for the altar. Carmelin would haply be against that, say Lysis: This stone hath sometimes been his Mistress, who yesterday for her cruelty was metamorphosed: I doubt whether it were fit to put upon it the victim I should offer to Charite. If it be so, says Clarimond, it must not be touched, there's no reason one Divinity should serve another. But is it possible, that this stone hath sometimes been a maid? I tell you no lie, replied Lysis; put but your hand on it, and you will find some relics of heat. Whereupon Clarimond touched the stone, and Lysis touching it also; nay more than that, says he, feel it towards the breast, and you will find the heart beats still. The Shepherd imagined all this; and Clarimond having put his hand on the place he showed him, feigned a great astonishment, and acknowledged he spoke nought but what was true. Fontenay putting in among them, would needs know who that Mistress was, and how it happened she was metamorphosed. You are to know, replies Lysis, that you no sooner appeared yesterday with Hircan and Parthenice, but Carmelin was touched with the beauty of that Shepherdess. His passion was so violent, that it was no sooner conceived then discovered: so that he proffered his service to the fair one, but she disdainfully refused it, and went along with you: you, as I believe, left her in this place, but instead of finding her here, we found this stone, into which the Gods have changed her.  
Fontenay admired the imagination of Lysis; for he knew well enough what was become of that Parthenice, otherwise called Synopa. Now here I think fit to discover some things, which haply have held the Reader in suspense. I have purposely imitated those Romances, which bring divers persons on the stage, without declaring whence they come, nor what they did before, but by little and little, so to cause the greater admiration. I have accordingly observed this order; and I have brought you a Philiris, a Polidor, and a Meliantes, without telling you why they seemed to be Shepherds, and that with as much extravagance as ours: But for every one's satisfaction, I acquaint you, that they were three Gentlemen, intimate friends of Hircans, who were brought to his house by Fontenay, who had been to fetch them there, to pass away certain days. They had been already acquainted with the extravagancies of Lysis, which had raised in them such a desire of his pleasant conversation, that they had disguised themselves as Shepherds, the easier to set on him. They considered with themselves, that men do often change clothes for a Dance or Play, and that they might as well act natural Pastorals, that should far exceed all the fictions in the world, yet should be performed with little pains, and less charge. Hircan, who began to fall more in love with Lucida then Synopa, whom he was weary of, had had some quarrel with this former Mistress, so that she was resolved to leave him. Being come out along with her to meet Lysis, there was a Coach attended him at a little distance, whereinto she was disposed, to return to her Aunt, who had been so ill a guardian of her Niece, that she had suffered her to be drawn away to naughtiness. Her house was about five leagues thence, so that 'tis to be imagined she could not get there before midnight. Hircan was very glad to be rid of her; because among other his friends, he that acted Polidor, being a person of a severe virtue, was ever quarrelling with him for his loose life, and ever persuaded him to marry. Were there any woman in the world could engage his thoughts that way, it must be she whom we shall name Lucida, though she had another name. He had stayed her in his Castle, under pretence of passing away the time with Lysis, but it was indeed for to find the means to entertain her when he pleased. She was of an humour so familiar and compliant, that she freely remained in those Lodgings he had assigned her; and if you will credit the story, you may be assured that she carried her self nothing indiscreetly, though she were in a house where there were so many men. The free open natures, such as hers was, stand out the longest. Besides which, the hope she had of having the company of some young Gentlewomen thereabouts, and the Pastorals wherein she was to act some part, and which could not have been done without her, were sufficient to excuse all.  
Philiris and Fontenay had therefore left her in the Castle, with others that were up no earlier than she, desirous to make some sport with the imaginary Metamorphosis of Parthenice, whereof they had just then received an account of Lysis. If it be true, says Philiris to him, that there is any heat in this stone, and that you feel the motion of the heart 'tis an evident sign that Parthenice is alive within it; wherefore I should think it fit there were hammers sent for to break it open, that so the poor Shepherdess may get out. Take heed of that, answers Lysis, thou understandest not what a Metamorphosis is: Dost thou think Parthenice is enclosed in this stone, as if she were in a sheath, or rather in a sepulchre? No such matter, that were no true Transformation, and the Gods would but deceive us. Learn then, that each part of her body hath put on the form and the quality of a stone: So that if a man should touch the least corner of it, he should hurt it, and haply the blood would issue out of her veins, which are visible enough in divers places.  
I must tell you, says Philiris, that this is not so easily apprehensible, that there should be life and blood in a stone; and yet to speak truth, and not to wrong you, you are not the first that ever affirmed such a thing: but the Poets who have said it, have not shown how it could be effected. Is it not sufficient to say it is done by the omnipotence of the Gods? replies Lysis: Will not that satisfy those who will needs have natural reasons of miracles? All this is right, says Clarimond, but it hinders not but I may believe that Parthenice may by some means or other be restored to her first form. And to prove what I say, I can allege, that there were sometimes as many stones that were changed into men, as there were men changed inro stones: I take the word Man for both sexes. To give you an instance, have you not read that Pygmalion's Statue was changed into a Woman, and that he enjoyed her afterwards? I have, replies Lysis; but that stone which was changed into flesh had before a humane shape, that advanced the matter very much. Will you think it convenient that Carmelin send to Paris for a Statuary for to bring this Stone to the figure of Parthenice? That's but to return to the discourse we had before; here will be a many blows and knocks given, which will make as many wounds; for there is a sensitive soul which is in this stone, which never was in that of Pygmalion's which had never been a woman. I have not yet done with you, replies Clarimond; you may remember that Deucalion and Pyrrha being to restore the world, cast stones of all sorts and sizes over their shoulders, which presently became humane creatures. A brave conceit indeed, replies Lysis, if we have a mind to imitate those Restorers of Nature, we must cast this stone over our heads. Now to do that, there were necessary the strength of Hercules, or at least we must be as strong as Turnus who cast as big a stone as this at Aenaeas: Carmelin hath not so much strength as those ancient Hero's. If you do not believe that this stone may be transformed, says Clarimond, and that you will not consent it should suffer the least knock of a hammer; it remains that Carmelin endeavour to soften it. There are those that say, that Blood mollifies the Adamant; possibly it hath the same effect on all sorts of stones: Let Carmelin give himself a stab, that he may bleed on the stone. You consider not that it is only Goat's blood that softens stones, says Philiris. Excuse me, I think on't, replies Clarimond: but I see no reason but an Ass may have the same virtue as the Goat; so that Carmelin, not missing of the or the other, may not fail to do what he desires. Let us not laugh at the miserable, says Lysis: I say without jesting, that all we can well advise Carmelin to, is, that to leave a testimony of a transcendent love, and to make his memory eternal, he would endeavour to obtain of the Gods, that they would dispose of him by some noble Metamorphosis. Some, it may be, would counsel him to be changed into a Rock, so to participate of the same nature with his Misttess; but that were not convenient, for he hath not been guilty of the like cruelty. Then to be changed into some Tree, which being planted hereabouts might give an eternal umbrage to his incomparable Parthenice, is not that which were convenient for him; for you see this ground is so dry, that it is not fit for Trees; besides they are never well near Rocks, which ever hinder the spreading of their roots. But that which I should think the most proper, is, that he were changed into a Fountain; 'tis the ordinary transformation of forsaken persons, and 'tis often seen that water issnes out of a rock: He shall perpetually wash the root of this, as if he had a design to soften it; and running close by it, will become the honour and delight of the whole Country: I will consecrate the source to some Divinity; and whoever drinks of it shall fall in love, by a strange miracle, that shall cause flames to issue out of the water. Carmelin should have been metamorphosed ever since I mentioned it; and if he dispose not himself thereto, I shall say he hath neither courage nor affection. How were it possible for me to satisfy all your several imaginations? (says Carmelin very angrily) I know not what belongs to turning Fountain, nor am I of opinion there may be any great good done thereby; for I find no great advantage in the water, unless it be for to wash before meat. I will not forbid thee the use of wine, replies Lysis, I see well thy thoughts run upon the juice of the Vine: but dost thou not remember that the Aquatic Deities which we saw one night, were richly furnished with the provisions of Ceres and Bacchus? Thou shalt lead such another life; bethink thyself if it be not pleasant. Thy water shall be as clean as thy soul; the Nymphs and the Shepherdesses will come and bathe themselves in it, and it may be Charite shall be one of the first; so that thou shalt take infinite pleasure to see so many Beauties all naked, and in feeling them all over, as thou must: I shall then be jealous of thee, and shall think thy condition better than my own. But if thou art so highminded, that thou wilt have none but humane creatures to drink of thy waters, there shall be notice given to all Shepherds, Cowherds, and Goatherds, not to bring any of their cattle thither to water. These are indeed very excellent propositions, says Carmelin; but I have told you already that I care not for the company of those people of the other world, I'll never come among them again. Thou canst not receive any more hurt, replies Lysis, for thou shalt be of the same condition with them; and being an aquatic Demigod, thou wilt be far otherwise respected then when thou wert a poor mortal: Possibly thou mayst have some authority over the rest; and as to what concerns Men, they shall address their vows and sacrifices to thee; and I, and all those whom thou hast seen in this country, will adore thee. These promises are great, says Carmelin: And for to taste them, though I know not what you speak to me of, and that it cannot enter into my imagination that a man of flesh and bone as I am can become water, I assure you that I would gladly be one, if you can make me become so: For I swear to you that I am extremely curious; and I shall not much stand upon the changing of my condition often, so that in the end I attain happiness: But I pray tell me how I must carry myself for to be what you desire I should, that I may know whether the pains exceed not the pleasure. Thy obedience is commendable, says Lysis; since I see thou art so modest, I tell thee there are divers ways to become a Fountain: 'Tis true, I find not in Antiquity any other way than that of weeping abundantly; but it is to be conceived that both the Gods & men are become more subtle and ingenious since that time; for among the modern Metamorphoses we find that Synopa who was all ice, was melted into water by the fire of Love; and that Lucida who had the Dropsy, hath pissed so much, that it became a Source. But all this is nothing proper for thee, Carmelin: For first thy disposition suffers thee not to weep, and besides thou art not ice, nor yet hast thou the dropsy. We must therefore find out some other way. I have known some men who by violent exercise sweated so, that the water dropped down as if they had been Statues of snow exposed to the sun. Go thy ways somewhither, and play at Tennis or at Football a whole day together, that may be a good means to accomplish thy intention.  
You come not near the mark, says Clarimond; why do you not rather bid Carmelin go and get him the disease which the French call the disease of Naples, and the Neapolitans the French disease? He might then go to Paris, and sweat at his pleasure, with some of those that force their Empirick bills upon all that pass by; and than you shall see him better metamorphosed into a Fountain then the fair Acis. Let's not busy our thoughts with mischief, I pray thee: Carmelin may be metamorphosed without making himself infamous by any such filthiness. If there be no more requisite then to sweat extremely, he need not make use of any sordid receipt, but go to some honest Hothouses; but I will furnish him with so many inventions, that he shall have to choose. The Alchemists extract water out of herbs, flowers, roots, and divers other things which are more dry, by putting them into the Alimbeck; it will not be amiss so to dispose of our miserably amorous Shepherd, that he may be distilled. No such matter, I thank you, says Carmelin, I do not intend to be set afire behind, nor do I conceive any goodness can proceed from all your subtleties. What is more, my mind is wholly perplexed in this business; methinks though all my body were melted into water, as you would desire it, there would not be as much as would fill an hogshead: For, measure me by a Geometrical proportion, you will find that I am but three foot about, and five foot high, all which would not suffice to fill a Fountainhead, and continually supply a brook that should measure the diameter of this ground, or by crooked windings should find a passage into Morin, and thence into Marne, and thence into the Seine, and so into the Ocean. There thou hast spoken very learnedly, says Lysis; and besides that thy terms are excellent, thy reason is miraculous. I know thou doubtest of somewhat, it is a sign of ingenuity; for I have often heard it said, that Doubt is the mother of Philosophy; and that because when one is doubtful of any thing, he desires to be more assured of it, and never leaves searching for it till he have found out what was most hidden and secret therein.  
I believe, that with a serious meditation, thou wouldst thy own self comprehend how those things I told thee may be effected; but I will shorten to thee the path of truth, so that thou shalt touch it with thy finger. Take notice then, that according to the Metamorphoses which the Gods bring about, the bodies are either dilated or contracted: it is no more difficult to the supreme Powers to make a thing greater, then to make it less; and if it be certain, that Arachne was changed into a Spider, and the Inhabitants of Licia into Frogs, it is as well possible that Pismires have been changed into men, Atlas into a Mountain, and some others into Rivers. Ovid never omits to speak of this contraction and dilation, nor should he: but I know one secret, which neither he nor any other ever thought on, which yet if it be not known, a man cannot explain the Metamorphoses; and this is it, when there is a necessity a man should be changed into something greater than himself, than the God's cause certain winds to enter into him, which swell him up to the proportion required; and when another is to be changed into some little creature, they infuse a certain drought into him, that consumes whatever is superfluous: so though they do some miracles which appertain only to themselves, and whereof there cannot likely any natural reason be given; yet do they not hinder but the second causes may operate somewhat therein. I have been fain to search the Cabinet of Jupiter for to be assured of this miracle, and who ever understands it, may take away the vail of his ignorance. By this thou art to understand, Carmelin, that it is easy for the Gods to change thee into a fountain, and that thou mayest supply water enough for that end, since some men who were of no greater corpulence, than thou, have been changed into Rivers and Mountains. The Inhabitants of heaven provide for whatever is done here below; and though they could not make the channel of thy current, neither broad nor long, yet would they so dispose of thee that thy waters about fifty paces from the source, should be received under ground, and by some secret conduits should return to the place whence they came, that so thou mightst never dry up. That were nothing extraordinary, there are in the world great Rivers, which find themselves channels under ground, nay it is to be believed that the sea itself is swallowed in Abysses, that it may restore the water it received, that so the earth might not be dried up. Further, to take things at the worst, though the Gods should not do thee the favour which they have done to many others, and allowing thee only so much water as thou art big; and should leave thee in some ditch where thou mightst be drunk up by beasts, or haply changed to Vapour by the attraction of the Sun beams, yet would I take a course thou shouldst not lose any thing: For I would cause thee to be taken up with pails, and thou shouldst be put into a basin in some rich cabinet. There would I have made an admirable engine, whereof I will discover the invention for thy sake. Thy water being in a cystem, raised up on high, should fall by a small channel upon a little mill, which it should turn, and thence should fall into a Basin that were under. Now the mill should at one end have a wheel, which should turn another, and that another, and that a beam, about which there should be a pipe made wave-like, or rather like a chevron, whereof one end being placed in the water, should be still supplied, and cause it by little and little to ascend, the upper part becoming the lowest, and then immediately ascending: Thus the water should be poured, as it were into a trough, whence it should return into its first receptacle, and be continually supplied, so that it should never fail. Now I would take order, that no body should drink of it, no not so much as the flies; and thy water never diminishing, but going and returning, thou shouldst be an artificial fountain, portative and eternal, a thing was yet never seen, and there were no speaking of thee without admiration, all believing thee to be an enchantment. Besides, I am to tell thee, that there were no great quantity of water required for this; for though thou shouldst afford but a pailful, I should make it serve the turn, by making my engine the less: but I doubt not but thou wilt yield a great deal of water; for before thou shouldst be metamorphosed, thou shouldst put on half a dozen cloaks, and so many night gowns, and all that will become liquid as well as thee. The clothes are ever metamorphosed with the body in Ovid (as I think I have told thee before) and as the tail of Ocyrioes' gown became a horse tail; so the skirts and shreds of thy clothes will melt into streams.  
This then is the recompense you promised me for my services, says Carmelin, if I ever stand to it, I will here swear once for all, that you shall seek another servant, and I will find another Master. You will load me with more cloaks, then if I were some boy belonging to the guard. You will have me sweat in Frying-pans; you will enclose me in Alimbecks; and at last you will dispose me into Basins, and make me pass through Conduit-pipes, Mills and Troughs. Where to the Devil runs your wit? shall I not be burned up, and beaten to pieces after all this? Let me know at least, what I have done to deserve to be put thus to the Rack, Gibbet and Pillory? Have I massacred my Father? Have I betrayed a City? Have I coined bad money? Am I an unconscionable Seller, or an Usurer? Thou art nothing of all this, I confess, Carmelin, says Lysis: nor are there any such punishments prepared for thee, as thou conceivest. When thy body shall be all reduced to water, thou art no more sensible of any hurt, poor fool: There will be much gotten by pressing thee, thy members cannot be crushed, for thou canst slide away through the least hole. That then in good earnest is your meaning, replies Carmelin; and 'tis worse than before: Your will is I should not be any thing but water; when I am to eat, where will be my mouth? If any body come near me, where will be my eyes for to see him? And if he speak, where will be my ears to hear him? In fine, where will be all my members to execute the ordinary offices for which God hath ordained them?  
Carmelin having so said, Lysis was ready to give him some extravagant reason for his complaints; and I believe he would have persuaded him, that after he were changed into a fountain, the Gods might easily form him a body of subtle vapours, according to the doctrine which had been infused into him: for he remembered him he had seen Lucida and Synopa, who yet had bodies, though they were changed into water. But upon this Philiris comes and says, Dispute not any more, Shepherds, your difference is easily reconciled. 'Tis true, Carmelin hath reason to be metamorphosed into a Fountain, but he must stay till the Gods out of their full power ordain it so: That we must expect from them, and not cause him to be melted into water by natural inventions; that were to tempt the Divinities, and draw their indignation on us. Lysis acknowledged this consideration to be very excellent; and was angry with himself that he had not been the Author of it. So that he promised Carmelin not to importune him any further as to his Metamorphosis. His thoughts now returned to the Temple he had a design to build; so that truning towards Fontenay and Clarimond, who stood amazed at his subtle argumentations, he asked them if they would assist him to begin his edifice. We are no Masons, says Fontenay; besides, a sumptuous Temple cannot be built in a moment, without materials or tools. But after what manner would you have it? Alas! that I am not an Amphion, that I might with the sound of my harp bring together all the stones in this Country, says Lysis: I would build an incomparable Temple: But since that's wanting, I must this day seek out divers workmen for to be employed in it. To spare all that cost, says Clarimond, 'twere better you would content yourself to dedicate your heart as a Temple to your Divinity. There you may be the victim and the Priest together. The fire of your love will there shine ever; your sighs will serve for incense, and your tears shall be the holy-water. That's well imagined, replies Lysis; but it hinders not but I may be much taken with my design. To answer therefore the Shepherd Fontenay, who desires the particulars of it; I declare, That my Temple being built of the fairest marble can be found, I will place upon the Altar, the picture of Charite, which was drawn by Anselm, with this written above it: To THE METAPHORICAL GODDESS. This Proposition is so much the more noble, because it is not common; and that it may be judged whether my Mistress' picture do not well deserve a Temple, let the world see and judge.  
In saying so, he took out a Box out of his pocket, wherein was that picture enclosed, which he ever carried about him, though it were of a pretty bigness. Philiris and Fontenay, who had never seen it before, admired the invention; and Clarimond who had seen it the first time he met Lysis, viewing it also, found in it somewhat he had not observed before. Methinks, says he to Lysis, that where before the breast was represented by two balls of snow, there are now two Globes, where may be seen the Aequator, with the Tropics, and other circles. You are in the right, replies Lysis, Anselm hath reformed it since you saw it, having sent for colours to Colommiers; but this last thing is of my own invention, and as time makes us wiser: I have left the snow for Charite's neck, and some places adjacent; and as for her breasts, I thought fit they should be represented as two worlds, for to render the picture more delightful by the variety. It is certain your Masters the Poets do ordinarily compare the breasts of their Mistresses to worlds, says Clarimond, but very impertinently. You are mistaken, replies Lysis; and I assure you, that if I possessed Charite's breast, I should think myself happier than any Emperor; for I should be master of two worlds, whereas the greatest Emperor that ever was, could never enjoy one. An excellent fancy indeed! says Clarimond; because the breasts are round, therefore they are worlds, Apples and plums, and all things that are round are wordls too. 'Tis a very slender resemblance of a thing, to have nothing of it but the simple figure; but yet in this case you cannot make good all you say, The breast of a woman hath but two half bowls, they must be put together to make one whole one; so that you are still short of your reckoning; for you can find but one world, which is divided into two, as the Cosmographers represent it in their universal Maps: And I must tell you, that it was a far neater invention of those who say, That Venus having obtained of Paris the Apple, which was to be given the fairest of the Goddesses, she was so taken with it, that having cut it in two, she placed it on her breast, and wore it for an eternal sign of her victory, and willed all those of her sex should do the like. However, if you desire that Charite's breast have two Globes, I grant it you; and I will in that sense too teach you an imagination which you never knew; and that is to say, that half of each Globe is sunk into the body, and that there is only what remains apparent; and as for the nibbles, it must be believed they are the Poles. Moreover, to render the picture more judicious and rational, it should be my advice to feign that one is a Terrestrial Globe, and the other the Celestial; but though we should grant all that, yet will there be still somewhat to be reprehended; for if they be worlds, they must necessarily have Suns to enlighten them, and it cannot be perceived they have any, if we do not suppose the eyes; but they are at too great a distance: But if you would take them for two Suns, how can you imagine it, since you call Charite a Sun, that carries them about? One great star therefore carries two little ones, and that also contains two worlds. Thus are all things confused among the Poets; and to hope any satisfaction from their impertinent imaginations were the vainest thing in the world.  
Lysis having heard all this discourse, with an extreme impatience; very angrily answered thus, I should never have believed Clarimond, that thou hadst so little judgement as thou makest appear. Thou canst carp at the excellent descriptions of Beauty used by Poets, and canst not believe that one Planet may carry others, and worlds besides. It shows thou knowest little in Astrology, and hast no great acquaintance with the opinions of those Philosophers, who hold there are worlds in the Moon and Stars. Besides, dost thou think it improper, that the eyes be the suns of the breast? dost thou think they are too remote, seeing they are fastened in the face as in their heaven, and that the two Globes which are under represent the earth? Thou wilt haply tell me, there is no need of two Suns so near one the other. But though there were but one world, yet were there no inconvenience; for I will prove it to thee, that this great world wherein we all live, is not content with one; and that this is true, look into all the Poets, both Greek and Latin, thou wilt find that when they speak of a man, that hath traveled about the earth, they say that he hath seen the one and the other sun. And this is it hath made me conceive there are two suns in the world. But the greatest testimony in this case is, that it is held for certain, that there are Antipodes; and if there be, they must have their Sun as well as we ours. I remember, that being at St. Cloud, Anselm laughed at me, because I said the Sun was going to sleep in the waters; if I had then known what I have imagined since upon reading the verses of a certain Poet, I had answered him to the purpose. He asked me how it wos possible, that the Sun should pass away the night in the sea, in banqueting and taking his rest, and yet be seen the next morning in another end of the world, as if he had travelled all the time. But now I am assured that there are two Suns which enlighten us one after another, and while one sleeps, the other perfects his career. I will not trouble myself here to make you any demonstrations; I must then have had the compass and rule. Find yourself out the reason of what I tell you, when you are best at leisure. Then for the several faces of the Moon, whereof I might be demanded an account; I profess to you, that I understand nothing of these divers aspects of the Moon, wherewith I have been so often entertained, I therefore believe there are three or four Moons in the world; for otherwise, how were it possible we should see it sometimes round, and sometimes cut in two. It is to be conceived, that the full Moon and half Moon are two several Stars.  
Such excellent conceptions as yours, are worthy to be admired, says Clarimond; I confess myself overcome, and yet I cannot but say, that let things be taken which way you will, the little worlds of Charit's breasts, have no need of Suns, since they can have no other inhabitants than fleas. Thou speakest injuriously, replies Lysis; those worlds are peopled with Cupids and Graces. I would gladly know what sort of creatures those are which you name, replies Clarimond; for all your Poets and Makers of Romances, speaking of a Beauty, say, that the Graces and Cupid's fly about her face▪ I have a hundred times viewed some of the fairest, imagining I should see an infinite number of little winged boys go plant themselves on her nose, as it were on a Bulwark; or hide themselves within it, as in the Loop-hools, and then go and suffer the Strappado in he hair, but I never could see any thing of all this. That is not seen but with the eyes of the mind, says Lysis; art thou now satisfied? And if thou doubtest of the dignity of the two Suns of Charites' face, because they remove not out the place, as those which run through the Zodiac, learn, that those things which are most permanent, are the most to be esteemed.  
All these fine reasons could not withhold Clarimond from ever pleying on Lysis; so that the Shepherd not being able any longer to suffer his abuses, put up his picture in a fury. So, so, put up your Metaphorical Deity, says Clarimond; some other time we shall lay the foundation of her Temple: I shall at the present entertain you with a more a necessary discourse. Let us repose ourselves a little I pray. As soon as he had so said, all that were present sat them down on the grass; and he resuming the discourse, asked Lysis, Whether he would give him leave to say what he would: The Shepherd answered, yes: So Clarimond entered into this discourse.  
Gentle Shepherd, I am very sorry to see your mind possessed with such an infinity of pestilent opinions; and (which is worst of all) like a contagion you endeavour to communicate them to all that come near you. You talk of nothing but Metamorphoses; and you would make Carmelin and the other Shepherds of your acquaintance, believe, that a man may be metamorphosed into a Fountain, a Stone, a Tree, a Bird, and divers other forms. I must purge your brains of these strange imaginations, and show you, that although you have found them in a many books, yet are they but pure fables. I will make it appear to you in what manner they came into credit in the world, that you may perceive your error.  
In the first place, for what concerns the Aquatic Metamorphosis: There was sometimes in Arcadia the son of a great Lord, who fell into a fountain and was drowned in't, his friends were extremely discomforted at it: But there was a Poet, who to comfort them, and get a little money from them, made some verses, wherein he feigned that the Gods had taken away that child from amongst men, for to prefer him to a happier condition, and that they had metamorphosed him into a divine and sacred Fountain. That was afterward by the superstitious people taken for truth. A while after that, a certain man whom some thiefs had killed, having been buried in a field, there grew out by chance a flower out of the earth, wherewith they had covered his body; so that it was believed, with much appearance, that it was a Metamorphosis, which the Gods had made of him. Another having been shot through with arrows in the wars, was negligently covered with earth, the shafts not taken out of his body, and being of a green and soon growing wood, they easily took root, and cast out branches; so that it was given out, that that body was changed into a Tree. There were a sort of Country people, who reported the same thing of another dead man, whom they had buried at the foot of an Elm, instead of a dog, for to make it bud forth. A certain traveller going along the fields, a piece of a mountain fell on him, and covered him so that he was never seen after. Those who knew which way he was gone, not meeting with him, but finding instead a little mountain hard by the greatone, imagined the Gods had bestowed that form on him.  
As concerning those whom men have thought to have been changed into savage creatures, they were only some people, who had covered themselves with wolf skins, for to be thought wolves; or had put on Lion's skins, or any other beast, for to run about frightening little children, and exercising divers cruelties.  
As for the Metamorphoses of men into Birds, though it cannot be said it was effected by a like disguising, because there is hardly any bird that hath not the body less than a man's, yet it hinders not but the reason thereof may be found out; and to that purpose I shall give you an example, as pleasant as true: There was sometime in the Province of Greece a subtle and mischievous fellow, called in his language Raven, who having committed a many Felonies and Adulteries, was furiously persecuted by the Magistrates of the place. The Constables having perceived him afar off in a field, made as fast as they could after him; but he was so well footed, that he recovered a little thicket, and being got out of that, he was presently by a river's side, into which he resolved to cast himself for his safety: he immediately put off his clothes, and got into the deepest of the water, where he might hold out longest, for he was one of the best Divers in the world. The Constables being come to the River's side, found nothing but his clothes, on which by chance a great black Bird was roosted: They came nearer by little and little, and imagined, that he whom they came to take, as he was capable of doing all sort of mischief, so was he as well a Magician as a Thief, and that by his charms he had changed his first body into that of a Bird; for otherwise they could not conceive in what manner he should come to disappear. But the bird having expected them some time, and looking on them very fixtly, as if he had defied them, fled away when they were come within ten paces of it; and 'twas then in vain to think to shoot at it, or by running hither and thither, to get any tidings of it. They never could learn any thing of certain of it; so that they were forced to return into their City, for to tell the Judges, how that the Felon was metamorphosed. Since that time, the Bird whereof he was thought to have taken the form, was from his name called Raven; and if that Bird be seen much about Gallow's, and places of Execution, to feed on carcases, people would say, that the Gods, the just punishers of crimes, did ordain, that notwithstanding the change of his nature, yet would he ever be about the place where he had deserved to end his life, and that he could not live but he must feed on those like him. As for the Thief, after he had continued some time in the water, he thought that those who sought after him were far enough, but coming to the shore, he found no clothes; for one of the Officers had taken them away, both because there was nothing else to be gotten, as also that he might show them all the world for a miracle. This wretch being stark naked, crossed the River; and when he was come to the other side, he kept himself close in a Wood, where for some time he lived like a savage, and at length he betook himself to some Faggot-men that used there, and passed over the rest of his days unknown, being very glad whenever he heard any one say that he was not reckoned amongst mankind.  
The metamorphosis which was imagined to have happened to him, was, to say truth, very excellent, and without any relation to the others; for there was no need of his clothes to bring it about, and the Greeks believed that he put them off for his more easy transformation. On the contrary, Lysis, Ovid, and the rest of the Poets will not have the clothes exempted from the metamorphosis: If they change a man into any creature, whether his Breeches be of cloth or of satin, it must be designed for hair or feathers; and if they transform an Italian woman into a Bird, the great sleeves of her Loose-gown would serve to make her wings; and as for a Southern woman with her little Furr'd-cloak, she should become a Winter-Crow. Were I so minded, I could thus find the original of many Metamorphoses; but 'tis not to be conceived there is any necessity of it. Lysis is more than half converted: He must now shake hands with the error he hath been so long in, otherwise it is a great hazard he may some time or other die of hunger or thirst: for he imagining that whatsoever he saw on the earth had sometimes been men, he would not presume so much as to drink water, left it might be blood; nor dare eat of any birds, or beasts, or fruit, out of a fear he might be at the buttocks of some of his kindred.  
Here Clarimond ended his discourse: but that it was not shorter, was not Lysis' fault; for not being able to hear him talk after that manner, he was ready to interrupt him at every word, and had done it, had not the Shepherd Philiris imposed silence on him as soon as he would have opened his mouth. However in the end he answered as followeth. Stupid Clarimond! I am now at a loss what esteem I should have of thee, since thou still continuest thy abusing of sacred mysteries, and canst not credit things that are most true. Thou wilt not believe there can be any Metamorphoses, and yet 'tis not long since thou sawest me changed into a Tree, and besides thou hast heard the Histories of the Hamadryads and Fountain-Nymphs of this Country who came to see me. Wilt thou deny this, whereof I have so good witnesses? I tell you once more, that you were no more changed into a Tree than I was, since you put me to it so far, replies Clarimond. Cannot Carmelin give thee the lie? answers Lysis. I beseech you bring not me into your contestations, says Carmelin, I am too peaceable a man. Fontenay, do you maintain to Clarimond, says Lysis, that I was changed into a Tree; and bear witness of it also to Philiris and the rest lately come hither, that they may not take me for an Impostor. I know nothing of that business but by the relation I had of it, replies Fontenay; I was not in this Country when this adventure happened, I was gone to a little Town whence I returned but yesterday. But I must tell you by the way, that there are many that hold the Metamorphoses for fictions, and do not believe there are any Divinities in the woods or waters. For my part, I have sometime believed that there were, and now I know not whether I ought to continue in the same opinion. But more particularly I was not persuaded of any thing so much, as that there were naiads: And if you please, I'll tell you for what reason I was possessed with that imagination. I shall hearken to you very willingly, replies Lysis: Possibly there may be somewhat in this story may touch the minds of these infidels. Nay then, says Fontenay, I will double your satisfaction; for together with it you shall have the rest of my life. That's it I desire, says Lysis, and I see every one prepares himself to hear.  

The History of Fontenay.  
YOU are then to know, dear Company! says Fontenay, That the Sun had not fourteen times measured the compass of the Zodiac after I was born, when in the most intense heat of the Summer there seized on me a desire to wash myself in the River Marne, which was within a league of my house. I would needs one evening make experience of that pleasure I had before never tasted: but in stead of being refreshed and cooled, I was the more inflamed. I was no sooner gotten up to the reins in the water, but I perceived a Maid who was also washing herself; and being desirous to embrace her, she got away suddenly into an isle where she hid herself, so that I could find her no more. I had so much fear to be drowned, that I durst not advance so far; so that this loss was a great affliction to me. I looked all about to see for some Boat where the fair one might haply have got in, but there was none; or if there were, it must be the other side of the isle. That made me believe that she I had seen was no mortal creature; and calling to mind the different Divinities whereof I heard my Preceptors' talk, I imagined it was a naiad, since she seemed to me to swim as well as any Fish. Now though I had not obseved the features of her countenance, yet was I easily induced to conceive that she was extremely fair; and that kindled in my heart a passion, which I thought should never be extinguished. When I had put on my clothes again, all my comfort was to lie down on the River's side, and to shed abundance of tears to increase the waters of my Nymph. The Stars were now ready to fall on the other Hemisphere, and Night by little and little drew her curtains wherewith she had hidden the face of heaven, when it came into my mind that there lived near this place a Magician of whom I might hope some assistance, if it were possible I could receive any. All the Shepherds in our quarters or near us, were charged to look to their sheep when they should cast their lambs, for to flay them and bring their skins to him to make virgin-parchment: the Midwives also were in like manner very careful to preserve those thin Cawls wherewith there are some children born: The Falconers, who made in other Countries all Birds their game, durst meddle with nothing but Dormice and some other unlucky birds; and all this for to provide materials for the enchantments of Zenocritus, that was the name of this Magician. I heard say that he would pull the Gods out of their thrones, and that he broke open hell-gates, and that he sent back Rivers to the sources, to the great astonishment of their banks. Besides it was reported, that all the riches he had in the world was an Angel in gold; but that it was so enchanted, that when he had given it a Tradesman for some commodity, it ever came back again into his purse, a place it seems it affected better than any where else. 'Twas also believed for certain, that if he took a gimlet and pierced one of the Posts of a Table, he would make wine come forth; and if they went afterwards into the Merchant's Cellar, they found the Pipe which had lost it, for he by his magic would cause the wine to be transported to his house. For what concerns the curing of diseases, in that point he defied all Physicians; and whenever he cured any of his friends, he transplanted the diseases into his enemies, that so he might not entrench upon Fate, whose ordinance it was there should ever be somebody sick. 'Tis true, I was not desirous to be fully cured of my disease; I took such delight in it, that I was content only to be a little eased. I went therefore and knocked at this Magician's door before day; and he, who was already at his study, came presently to the door. It was an old man whose beard was of such a length, that besides that part he had left in the middle, he had twisted what was on both sides, and it served him for a girdle. That was a thing strange enough to see: but I was much more amazed when I observed that he had so many wrinkles on his face, whereof some were in direct lines, and others in oblique, that they seemed as so many magical characters that time had drawn there, to make him master of life and death. Assoon as he had bidden me good morrow, I shook as a reed on the brink of a lake, at the sound of his whizzing voice, which seemed to issue out of hell through some abyss. But at length he spoke more mildly to me, and restored me bidding me not fear at all, because I was so much in favour with heaven, that I should find the assistance I looked for; and that he well saw that what I ailed was nothing more than ordinary to Youth, that is to say, the disease of Love, forwhich he was stored with all sorts of remedies. How well have you already guessed! answered I: 'Tis true, I am in Love, but 'tis not with a mortal creature, but a naiad I saw yesterday in the River, but cannot since recover the sight of, though I waited till now: Do me but the favour that I may see her once more before I die, and I shall so recompense you, that you will rest as well satisfied as I. Zenocritus promised me to do what I desired; and having brought me into a dark chamber, he put off my clothes, and put them on again, mumbling over certain barbarous words. Thence he led me into his Court; where when he had made a circle, and lighted three candles about it, he cast a vail over my head, and read a while in his Conjuring-book. This done, he took me by the hand, and made me go a great way veiled as I was; then having made me kneel, he took the vail off my head, and told me I was where I desired to be, and that it was in my power to remain two hours before my Mistress. Upon that he left me, as being unwilling to be a witness of my amorous thefts: But the enchantments passed had made me so stupid, that it was a good while ere I remembered me that I was on the Marne side. As I cast my sight on the waters, which were very clear thereabouts, I saw in them a Nymph, the fairest could be imagined: she had on her head a dressing of cloth of silver, with small purl-work, and a blue gown. I presently conceived it was my naiad, and that I should make use of the opportunity to gain her favours, since the charms of Zenocritus had come to so good effect. Fair naiad! said I to her in an extreme transportation: I confess modesty obliges you to appear so clad to the eyes of men; yet I must tell you, I would rather have seen you naked, as I did last night; for it being now broad day, I should have been incredibly satisfied in considering you all over: Since the honour of beauty consists in nothing so much as to be seen, why are you so careful to hide yourself? Thus did I entertain her, thinking she would speak to me: but she answered me not at all, and was only content to look on me with languishing eyes. I perceived her lips move, but her voice reached not my ears, so that I thought it might be the water hindered it. That made me say to her, Come out of the water, my fair Sun! behold the great Sun of the world comes out too: Come and enlighten our earth, where all men shall adore you: Come give me your hand, that I may help you to get out. In so saying I kissed my right hand and presented it to her: At the same time she kissed her left hand and presented it to me, as if she had been desirous to come to me; but though my fingers seemed to be very near hers, yet could I not touch them: which making me half desperate, I fell to beating my breast. The Nymph did the like for to sympathise with my grief; whereat I was so troubled, that it set me a weeping, and methought she wept too. You suffer too much, said I then; 'tis necessary I come to you, my fair one, since you cannot come to me. And in saying so I cast myself into the water, which being shallow, I was not so high as my middle: but there being nothing but sand and gravel wherever I laid my hands, I came out again presently; looking afterward into the water, which was all muddy, I could see my naiad no more: whose loss I so much regretted, that I laid me along on the ground as if I had been ready to die. At length my grief being somewhat abated, and my mind not being taken up with viewing the waters, I looked o'er myself. O Gods! shall I tell all! I perceived that I had woman's clothes on, and having put my hand on my head, found I had a dressing on like that of the naiads. By that I discovered the cheat of Zenocritus' enchantments, and I had reason to doubt that the face I had so much admired was my own, which being disguised I had mistaken. Thereupon I returned to the river, less sad than before; and there perceiving the same figure, I spoke thus, There's none but will confess that this face is handsome; and for my own part, I should think myself happy, could I find a Wench that had one so fair. I would to God it were so! But why do I desire it, is there any thing more pleasant then to be Mistress and Servant together? I shall when I please, see the beauty which hath surprised me. If I sigh, it will sigh too; if I laugh, it will laugh also; if I desire any favour, it will be as soon obtained as desired; if I give my Nymph any thing, there will be nothing at all lost, for I shall give all to myself; if I bestow my endeavours to preserve her, I shall preserve myself with her. I shall not fear she will betray me, for she will never be guilty of any thoughts which I shall not know, and jealousy, which possesses so many Lovers, will exercise no tyranny over me. I see many others much troubled that they have Rivals; but for me to have any. I shall account it a huge pleasure: so nothing being able to bring me any discontent in my love, I shall ever live fully satisfied. And if it be objected, that I transgress the ordinary Laws of men, I will say, that the fairest bird of natures making, which is the Phoenix, is content to love himself, and seeks no further object for his affection. After this discourse, I paused a good while, and as I was busied in viewing my own fair countenance, Zenocritus comes and asks me, Whether I had not sufficiently seen my Mistress? and if I would not return to his house? I am fully satisfied as to her sight, said I to him; but I would also have been glad to have heard her speak, I have not yet been able to make her break her silence. Ask her somewhat, says he, no doubt but she'll answer you. I had the curiosity to try his skill; so turning towards the water, Fair Nymph, said I, may I be assured that you will have a memory for the most perfect Lover that lives? Then I heard a feeble voice, which seemed to come from a league off me; which said to me, Assure thyself, that the same arrow as hath wounded thy heart, hath wounded mine also. I was so astonished at this, that I became as insensible as a stock. Zenocritus put the vail again over my head, and assuring me that his charm was at an end, he led me back to his house, I not saying any thing in the world to him. I could not come certainly to know, whether it were a Nymph I had seen, or my own representation only; the clothes I had on made me suspect the cheat, but withal, the voice I had heard made me believe there might be somewhat more in it. Being in the dark chamber of Zenocritus, he took off my maids clothes, and put on man's; but though I perceived all this, yet had I not the courage to accuse him of imposture. My comfort was, that however, he had given me some satisfaction, by teaching me the invention of loving myself; so that as I parted from his house, to return to my own, I gave him a Diamond for his recompense. The very same day, I spoke of him to a Gentleman, a friend of mine, who assured me he was the greatest cheat in the world; and among other subtle tricks, he had that of making a voice proceed from the bottom of his stomach, having his mouth shut, as if it had been another person at some distance from him had spoken, and that by this means he had abused many, answering them to what they desired, as if he had been a spirit, or some departed soul. I remembered, I had heard say, that in ancient time there were prophetesses, that spoke through the belly, so that I easily believed Zenocritus, had the same power. Yet thinking ever on the pleasure he had done me, I would not wish him any hurt; and forgetting the imaginary beauty of the naiad, which I had not clearly seen, I admired none but my own. I had at this time neither father nor mother, but lived at my own liberty. I caused women's clothes to be made me, which I ordinarily wore, and being locked up into my chamber, where there was a looking-glass four foot high, and three broad, I viewed myself from head to foot: I was quite ravished in that contemplation, though all my happiness consisted in the superficies of a glass; and I wished my eyes had been disposed into some other part then my face, that I might have viewed that in its natural. Yet my faithful ice representing it to the life to me, I caused the Idea of those beauties to pass into my heart where it was preserved. And thus was I surprised by an extraordinary love; and if you have observed the adventure that gave it its beginning, you will conclude, that he that first presumed to say there were naiads, had seen some that were supprised as I was.   
That may very well be, says Philiris, some Poet had had a glimpse of a maid in a River, or else some Idiot seeing himself in the water, had believed his own image was another Nymph. As for your part, I believe your design was to renew the fable of Narcissus, but yet you have done nothing so simply as he: if you knew not yourself, when you first beheld yourself; and if you took the figure you saw for a Nymph, 'twas because you had changed your clothes; but Narcissus, who had no other than his ordinary clothes, took his own representation for some fair Goddess. If that were true, I should say that the young man were turned fool; but that being false, I must say that the Poet who invented it had no judgement: For put the case that Looking-glasses were not in use in the Country of Narcissus, and that in his mother's house there were not neither skillets nor basins, in the bottoms whereof he might have seen himself; could he that was a Huntsman, and had much acquaintance with the fields, be without ever beholding himself in a Fountain? Had he lived to the age of sixteen, and never met any? And if he had met with any (as it must be necessarily conceived) why should he behold his own face as a new thing, and imagine there were a Nymph under the water? why had he not rather committed this simplicity at eight years of age? then it might have been excused. By this it is easy to see, that for to make the adventure probable, it should have been accommodated like that of the Shepherd Fontenay.  
I do not grant you that, replies Lysis: for in the first place, I will not have any thing reform as to what hath been anciently believed concerning Narcissus, because it may have happened, that he loved himself after one manner, and Fontenay after another. The lives of all men are different, and consequently their Histories are so much the more delightful. As concerning the naiads, though Zenocritus have deceived this gentle Shepherd, and hath made him see his own image in the water instead of a Nymph, it does not thence follow that there are none. The fair one he had seen the night before was one indeed, and I make no question but he knew her well enough since: Wherefore let him continue his History, and we shall see what were the end of his loves.  
I have acquainted you erewhiles, replies Fontenay, that it was in my infancy, that I believed there were naiads; however for the future I shall be of your opinion, were it but for complyance-sake with you: And to go on with my story, I am to tell you, that having accustomed myself so long to dress myself like a maid, I never wore man's clothes, but when I was forced to appear publicly; and then also were they heavy on my back. As I was one time at my window, there past by a Nobleman of the Country, called Alcidamas, who having perceived me, thought me the greatest Beauty he had ever seen; so that he fell furiously in love with me, and came to my house with some fifty Bilbo-blades, for to carry me away. My people, who were accustomed to see me disguised, told him he was much deceived if he thought to find a maid there, and that there was not one in all the house. He notwithstanding came up into my Chamber, where I was then so busy at my glass, that he had embraced me before I perceived him. You have sufficently consulted your glass, my fair one, said he, you have already so many temptations, that you cannot add any. Trouble not yourself to provide arms to make new wounds, but heal those you have already given.  
Upon this, four of his Lacquays took me away in spite of my teeth, and carried me along with him into a coach. All the way I did nothing but weep; and I remembered I complained in these terms: Must I be taken away, and the dearest friend I have, not brought with me? O faithful witness of my Loves! must I be ever absent from you? must I bid an eternal adieu to that fair Mistress which you made me always contemplate? 'Twas in you that I saw her, 'twas in you that I also saw myself. Methought I was wholly changed into you, and I also thought that I comprehended you wholly in myself; so were my thoughts filled with you as their full object. I often repeated these words, speaking of my glass: but Alcidamas, to whom I did not explain them, could take them for nothing but riddles. He asked me sometimes what cause I had to complain, since I might assure myself I should receive no hurt with him: yet I gave him no reason, but cried out thus; Alas! I have lost my Mistress and my Servant together: My face was seen in that of my Servants, and in mine was also seen that of my Mistress; but one moment hath ruined our reciprocal loves. Alcidamas hearing this, thought that the indignation I took to be so ravished away had made me talk idly: And when he was come into his castle, he brought me to a Gentleman whom he called his Brother, and prayed him to endeavour to bring me to myself again. I had so little consideration, that being removed from my glass, I believed I was removed from myself, though I carried myself well enough in all the places where I went: But having cast my eyes on Iphis his glass, Alcidamas' brother, I perceived that indeed my face, which by reflection was an object to itself, was not absent from that beauty which it adored. I was upon this so comforted, that I smiled, and with my eyes caressed my ordinary Mistress, not thinking of Iphis who very seriously eyed me. This young Lad seemed to be as jovial and voluptuous as his Brother; and it quite amazed me to see him cast himself so amorously about my neck, saying to me, You disesteem me too much, Fair one! to prefer that Glass before me: Am not I as worthy your looks as it? If you would see yourself, you may do it in my eyes. Though Iphis were very fair, yet he seemed not to me to come near my Nymph, so that I still thrust him from me, that he might not hinder me to look into his glass. When it was night, I would needs behold myself in it by candlelight: but he caused me to go to bed, and when I thought him gone out of the chamber, he came and lay down by me, saying to me as if he had known my thoughts, My fair one! though it were true that you loved none but yourself, yet can you not hate me, because it is you that I love. I thought Iphis had reason; and having felt his breast, I found he was a maid. Then without being moved at all, I received his kisses, as coming from my Mistress' friend. I did not think there was any hurt in that, as if I had received the same caresses from his brother, because I thought myself a maid as well as he, and yet I made it soon appear to her that I was a man, or at least an Hermaphrodite. I shall not tell you whether she was ashamed of it or no, for the darkness hindered me to see if she blushed, but I dare tell you she betrayed a certain amazement by a mild complaint; yet she turned all into gladness, and had the confidence to tell me, that indeed such a Lad as she was required such a Maid as I was: She also confessed to me, that though her Brother were a very powerful man, yet was there a certain Prince who had designed the same violence to her that Alcidamas exercised towards others; so that for fear to be stolen away some time or other, either when she were alone in the castle, or walking in the fields, she had thought it her best course to disguise herself like a man. This discourse ended, she conjured me to tell her the reason why I was clad like a woman; but I made her believe that I would not reveal that secret. In the morning we put on our false habits; and having beheld myself a while in the glass, I was in such a good humour, that I went and walked into the Garden with Iphis: I found a little door which opened into a field where a many cattle were feeding; among the rest I spied a Mare, on which as it had been in jest I got up; but holding by the mane in stead of a bridle, and closing to her sides, I made her make such speed away, that Iphis soon lost sight of me. She went to the people at home, to send them to overtake me; but they were not quick enough for me. I know not whether she were much troubled at the loss of me, or if her Brother his return were the more: But this I know, that I was never importuned any further by them at my house, whither having retired as into a sanctuary, I fortified myself better than I was before. The affections I had for myself I increased, and I practised all the inventions in the world to raise the greatest pleasure out of my solitude. I had some seven or eight Gowns of several fashions, which for my pleasure I ever changed; since I had suffered my hair to grow very long, I passed away whole days in curling and frizling it, as having no need of Perruques. Sometimes being laid down on a green couch before my glass, I played on the Lute, and sung certain airs which I had composed in my own praise; and I was so passionate, that I imagined that the harmony proceeded from the fair Chantress I had seen, and not from me. I put on no other clothes but women; and my servants who would not contradict my delightful humours, called me rather Madam than my Lord. The neighbours who heard no more talk of Fontenay, thought him dead, or gone to travel; and as for the fair Lady which remained in his house, she was thought to be his Sister. When I looked out at the window, there would ever be some Gentleman passing by, whose business was to see me, so great was the fame of my beauty; nay there were some who would needs demand me in marriage. Now once above all there came to my house a young Lady, who told my people that she must needs see me. I did not at that time appear much at the window; so that she could not see me but in my chamber; a thing I should hardly permit; for I was afraid it might be some man disguised who came to ravish me; or else some woman, who knowing I were a man came to ensnare me into Love. She was a good while at the door desiring me to open; but I would not do it before she had declared to me her design. Know then, fair and solitary Nymph! says she to me, that I am called Theodora; and that all the world having acknowledged that my beauty was incomparable, I have been so vain as to have believed it till now: Yet the common report having taught me that thou hadst an admirable beauty, I shall never be at rest till I have seen whether thou art fairer than a many other whom I have excelled. I who conceived my face the handsomest in the world, and believed it concerned the reputation of my Mistress not to suffer the presumption of Theodora who thought herself incomparable, I promised her entrance on condition she swore not to stay with me above a quarter of an hour. When she had taken her oath, I opened the door: But O ye Gods! what miracles did I find in her? she had so many attractions, that I was even dazzled with them, and began to tremble out of astonishment, acknowledging I had nothing worth the comparing with her. However finding in my heart a little obstinacy, I thought it was because I remembered not my own beauty; and so presently I addressed myself to my glass: But alas! what inequality did I find? For besides that Theodora's face was fairer than mine, her breast was uncovered, where the two Bowls, whiter than Alabaster, were without any thing else able to make me perish, considering I was not furnished with any such beauty. That gave me such an assault, that I kneeled down before Theodora, and said to her, Fair Goddess! assure yourself that this day you have overcome the proudest creature in the world. She presently lifted me up; and believing she were indeed somewhat above, she began very insolently to relate how many other triumphs she had already made. Then she made me look on an ancient woman she had brought with her, who was to testify to all the world that I was not so fair as her Mistress. After this she left me, though I entreated her to stay with me that day; for she said she would not break her oath. So was I soon deprived of her amiable sight through my own fault: but her Idea remained so engraven in my mind, that I would never any more behold my own face in the glass. I forgot myself for her sake; and being weary to be the Lover and the thing loved both together, I resolved to be passionate for something that were more sensible than a shadow. Thereupon cursing the Glass which had enchanted me so long, I took a stick and broke it into more pieces than times I had looked in it; I burned all my woman's clothes, representing to myself, that to be loved by Theodora, I must appear as a man. And to say true, this change of humour fell out very seasonably; for I could not long dissemble my sex, since my cheeks began to be hairy, and that it was no small trouble every morning to get it off. It was so long since I had gone like a man, that I had much ado to bring myself to it again: yet I quitted my solitude, and showed myself to all the world; so that then all the talk was of Fontenay, and that it was not known what was become of his Sister. My first visits were to Theodora, with whom my business was Love: but I found her so cruel, that I imagined she were not to be wrought to compliance by any natural remedies. I went therefore to Zenocritus, whose reputation was much increased; and having discovered my passion to him, he promised me more effectual assistance then when I loved the naiad, by how much it was easier to gain a humane creature than a divine. His cajolling and fair tales enchanted me more than his charms; and such a confidence did I place in him, that I never dreamt any thing which I did not relate to him, for to have the interpretation of it: I saw no birds in the air, but I gave him the number of them; and made him a register of all my thoughts and actions, that he might thence make his presages. If I were to return to Theodora's, he looked o'er certain books, and cast certain lots to see if the day were fortunate for me. Notwithstanding all this, there was no great appearance that my affairs were any thing advanced, and I fed myself with nothing but hope. So that calling to mind that I had a Cousin in these quarters who was thought a very able man in Magic, I resolved to come and see him, and renew that kindred and acquaintance with him which my father had neglected. I visited Hircan, to whom I have related all my fortunes. He advised me henceforward to beware the impostures of Zenocritus; and he, who is acquainted with the true and sound doctrine, gave me an herb that made Theodora love me, if whenever I was to speak to her I put it into my mouth. To be withal revenged of my false Magician, and pay him in his own coin, by the advice of my dear Kinsman I presented him with a pleasant little Book which treated of the means to find Treasures. He was content with that recompense; and lest I might pretend to part of his riches, he is gone out of this Province to practise his vain secrets, which he conceived were above my understanding. I have since married Theodora, to the satisfaction of all that knew us, who rejoiced to see the Fair married to the Fair; and we have hitherto lived a very comfortable life together: And that I have now left this dear Spouse, it hath been for some business of very great consequence which I have with my learned Cousin. As to what concerns Charite, of whom I boasted I was beloved in the presence of her faithful Lover, he hath no reason to be any way jealous; for what I spoke then, was out of error and vanity: I believe Lysis perceived it so, and took it no otherwise; and now that we were made friends yesterday, he will not bear me any ill will henceforward.  
Here Fontenay made an end of his story, which he had related with much difficulty, many times recalling what he had said, as if he had taken a great deal of pains to lie. Clarimond, who laughed ever and anon, There's an end it seems of your Legend, says he to him, in good time: I never heard any thing more impertinent; and you have only made it appear to us, that you were sometimes this greatest Hypocondriack, and the most melancholic Fool that ever trod the earth.  
Abusive Clarimond, replies Lysis, wilt thou never give over affronting honest people? Art thou not to blame to censure this Shepherd for loving himself, since it is well known, that in his youth he was of an excellent beauty: and that I myself being clad like a maid at Orontes', was enamoured of myself I could not but shed tears at the relation of his adventure, so was I moved with it. There is but one thing troubles me: whereas he lay with Iphis who was disguised like a man, I should have wished with all my heart, that to make his history the more perfect, his Theodora had been so disguised, and that their friends seeing them equal in Beauty and Riches had desired to match them together. Fontenay taking Theodora for a man, would have abhorred such a marriage, and Theodora taking Fontenay for a maid, would not have been joined to her, fearing she might never receive any satisfaction thereby. Their plaints would have been reciprocal, and yet being disposed into the nuptial bed they would have found that they had wherewith to please one another, and there was no more to be done the next morning to put all things in order, then for them to exchange clothes. Theodora taking those of Fontenay; and Fontenay those of Theodora. That had gone beyond the Metamorphosis of Iphis, the husband of Jantha. This consideration is excellent, says Fontenay; but le's not think any more on it, since what is done cannot be undone. As to the insolence of Clarimond, let us bear with it, as proceeding from a spirit of contradiction, which can hear nothing and be pleased with it. I should be very glad if Philiris would also take the pains to give us his history, to see if haply there will not be so much to carp at. Let him then vouchsafe us that diversion, says Lysis; I conjure him to do it by the eyes of his Mistress. I am very tender, as to the refusing of any thing whereto I am pressed with so much civility, replies Philiris; prepare therefore your ears, and you shall hear what yesterday it was my desire to acquaint you with. While Philiris said this, Lysis rises out of his place, and seated himself on the other side. What would you do, says Fontenay to him, do you find the ground too hard in your former place? or do you think it any softer here? There is in this a secret, and that no small one, replies the Shepherd, I should much wonder if you could but conceive what it might be before I should tell you: my thoughts are not so common, yet I will discover it, to let you know that such a Lover as I cannot conceive any thing, but what is rare and excellent. You are then to know, that in the place where I sat before, my back was towards Orontes his Castle, where is the residence of Charite; and that was a thing quite contrary to the rules of all civility: And that is the reason why I have planted myself here, where I think myself so well situated, that I sixthly behold the abode of my felicity, Had I all the mathematical instruments in the world, I could not place myself better. And that I perceive already; for I find the air more delicate here then there; and methinks the Zephir brings with it sometimes a perfumed scent, which it took up from the breath of my Mistress. I will henceforth turn towards her with as much pertinacy as the Loadstone does to the North: Whether I be a bed, or at table, or be in a ship, or in a Coach, I will ever observe that. The design is noble, says Philiris; but there is one thing I stumble at, and that is when you are far from your Charite, she may go from one place to another, and turn her back towards you; so that you will be deceived, and you will look towards a place where she is not, and you never know it. However, I believe your good intention will be much considered. There's more than so in it, says Lysis; do you not see that I cannot possibly be mistaken, since I shall know by the wind in what quarter my Mistress is. That indeed is a reason that salves all, replies Philiris; its time to dismiss this discourse, if you desire the relation of my amorous adventures. Let the brave Shepherd begin when he will, says Lysis, I shall not be he will interrupt him. Thereupon Philiris related his story in this manner.  

The HISTORY of PHILIRIS.  
A Little Village in Burgundy was the place of my birth (says this Shepherd) there my Father and Mother live yet, being persons more remarkable for their virtues then their wealth: Yet did they bestow the greatest part of what little means they had, to bring me up with children of greater houses, and it was not their fault, if the good endowments I had acquired, did not commend me to the attendance of great ones: But while I was at Paris, though I wanted business to look about, yet did I make it my greatest employment to go wooing up and down. I was the most unconstant thing that ever was known; for when ever I went to give one Lass a visit, whom I had chosen for my Mistress, I still went through some street, where I should see another by the way, lest I might have lost my labour. If I had made verses for the first, I endeavoured to start out the same occasion for to present them to the second; and as I once had made a song in commendation of a brown Lass, if I had chanced afterward to be acquainted with any more of the same complexion, I presented them with it as if it had been particularly made for any of them: So that there were a many finely mumped, when being in a mask, they confidently gave one another that song. I loved the white and the brown, the fat and the slender, the great and the little; and when I saw one I never thought of any of the rest, and for that time I thought that she were the most desirable: But when I was far from them all, my affection I left as a booty among them, and she that came first into my thoughts, had the best share of the pillage. The dress and fashions of clothes made me set a higher esteem on the beauties; and if I had loved a little wench, while she wore a coif, I was sometimes more taken with her when she was in her hood. There were some Ladies could raise no passions in me but when they were masked; and others, for whom I never sighed, but when I had a full view of them: of some, I affected nothing but the breast; of others, only their eyes; of some their stature and their necks; so that to satisfy me fully, I must have had all those parts taken and composed into a Beauty, à la mode. The fashion and the colour of the clothes of my Mistresses had a certain grace and insinuation, which another, than myself was not capable to discover. The light flaxen hair with a black velvet dress, and carnation fancies on the confines of an absolute white complexion, had such a lustre, that I am still so charmed with the very remembrance of it, that I can only tell you that I cannot describe it; yet was I in love with all these, as if they had been essential dependences of the body. When your little girls quitted their cawls and coloured gowns, for dress and black gowns, my imagination ran on those flowers which grow up by little and little, and when of tender buds they come to be full-blown in their pride, sometimes change their former colours. But all these several imaginations not only decreased, but vanished when I returned into my Country, where I found a beauty so rare, that it soon made me change all my inconstancy into fidelity. Yet had I never any thoughts for the raising of my fortune; for I was more taken with a Shepherd's innocency, than any Court ambitition; and I thought myself happy to live in such a Country as my own, where Justice, when she left the earth, had left her last footsteps: so that the professors of virtue come thither daily to find out her tread, that they might follow her. This happened, while I walked in a Town that was near our Village, where I espied at the door a young Shepherdess, whose attractions were such as ravished away my heart, and robbed me of my Liberty. My greatest misfortune was, that I knew not a thing which was so well known to me; that is to say, I kenws not who that fair one was, though I always saw her both present and absent; but at length, after much enquiry, a Shepherd, a friend of mine, called Valerius; acquainted me who her friends were; and that as for her, she was called Basilia, a name that shall eternally remain engraven in my mind. O Heaven! how joyful am I to know it, and to be so happy as to name the cause of my love, that I may accuse it before the throne of God, for all the mischief it hath done me. What explications did I not invent for this name? and what Anagrams did I not endeavour to find out on it? is there any Criticism in language which I have not appropriated to it? When I tried a pen, I thought I committed a crime, if I writ any thing but the word Basilia: so that all my papers are filled with it. And if sometimes I writ and heeded not my hand, it would never make any other Letters than those that make up that sweet name, so was I accustomed to it. It is not to be asked, if I put it into all the verses I made, and that I thought it added harmony to their cadences; though I may safely say, that they were otherwise charming enough, to move any barbarous heart; and that Love had taught me more in fifteen days, than the most learned Professors in the world had done in eight or nine years. Valerius also thought my verses so good, that he learned them by heart: and yet he endeavoured to divert me from my love by this discourse; Can it be possible, that you who are ranked among the greatest wits in France (says he to me) should stoop before a little Shepherdess, that hath yet scarce forgotten her Play-games? when you have presented her with your verses, do you think she can distinguish them from the Ballad-Ribaldry, which your Ploughman sing when they go to work? she'll show them to all her companions, and will tell them without any discretion, it was you made them. I pray God she may not give them the first that desires them, as if it were a thing as well made for others as her. Ah! Valerius, answered I, how malicious are you, to speak in this manner? Do you not consider, that Basilia will shortly be of age, and arrive to prudence and judgement? and have you not told me divers times, that she had already no ordinary understanding? Now know, that though her words and actions had nothing in them but infancy, I should not give over to serve her. You cannot believe what pleasure I shall think it to talk with her of love innocently, and to have the honour to be the first shall teach her what it is to have fires in the soul, and wounds in the heart. Valerius confessed then, that he had commended Basilia to me, and that she deserved it; but that he wished she were not so exquisite, that I might not seem enchanted with a Love, which in his opinion promised me nothing but affliction. I prayed the Gods they would make him a false Prophet, and discoursed on with him on the same subject, not indeed being able to take any other. He told me, that five or six days before I had seen Basilia first, she was in mourning for her mother, and that she was very handsome in a black gown. I cannot tell you the grief that I have ever since felt, that I saw her not in that mourning. O ye mighty Gods! why have you not suffered me to know her sooner? Had I seen her in her infancy, I should have loved her so well as I do now, and by that means having the opportunity to serve her more than I have, she would have been the more obliged to me. What a diversity of thoughts came into my mind, whenever I saw a picture of hers, that was drawn when she was about six or seven years old. O heaven! said I, one time, why did I not know this pretty Minikin, when I myself was but eleven or twelve? even than should I have sighed for her, and have left the company of all other children for hers. How glad should I have been to play with her! I would have helped her to dress her babies; and would have sold my books, but I would have every day brought her some plums or sweetmeats. I have had a world of other infantine and simple thoughts; which witness my passion and because there was at my father's house my own picture, taken when I was little, I have often wished to see them hanged close to one another, as if they were married together. Methinks two such Children had made a fine couple; but I must profess to you, that I wish rather the originals were joined then the pictures, if all may not be done together. But now I think on't, I vow to you, 'twere one of my greatest pleasures to have Basilia pictured in all ages; for her beauty at six years old; is not the same at twelve; and that at twelve, not the fame at sixteen. When she was little, her hair was flaxen, now 'tis brown: yet hath she always been looked on as the wonder of the age; and though her perfections have been gradually different, yet her attractions and allurements have been ever the same I very well remember the first time I saw her, her breasts appeared not in their full beauty, and that those vermilion buds which grow there, have been since raised to their pomp, as being to be raised on two mountains, which they should command; But however it be, I cannot but still be of opinion, that she could not appear fairer than on that fortunate day she made me her captive. Yet can I not be rid of a fanstatical curiosity, to have her painted in all the dresses and fashions that ever she wore, and I think it would much please me, had I but her countenance drawn when she minded to be serious, or else when she laughed, the time I first knew her. But though I might obtain all this, I doubt not but I should find the occasions of other wishes, so hard is it to satisfy the humours of an amorous person. But for want of all this, I was content and glad to have a picture of Basilia, such as could be had; and out of confidence on my own imagination I went to a Painter that knew her not, I bid him draw me the picture of a maid, that had the face somewhat long, her eyes and hair brown, her cheeks not over-coloured; so I gave him instructions for all the parts, and yet he made above twenty draughts, and hit not right in any one. The next day therefore I went into a place whence I might see Basilia at ease; and after I had well considered all the Lineaments of her face, I took a large note thereof, for to give it the Painter, who yet satisfied me not, though he went according to my directions. At length he began to be angry, and told me, he knew not why I should put him to so much trouble; and it were better I would carry him into some place whence he might see my Mistress, and that it was in vain for me to keep him from knowing her, since that if he once drew her well, he might easily call to mind the face should be like that which he had taken. Besides, he represented to me, how that I ought not doubt of his fidelity; and if I freely named her to him, he would keep it more secret than if I concealed it, and he come to know it afterwards; because those that are too distrustful, seem to grant others liberty to deceive them. These reasons I thought very pertinent, and banishing all fear, I ingenuously told my Painter, that I could not bring him to my Mistress' house, because to speak truth, I had no entrance thither myself; but that there was one expedient, which was to go to the Church, where she sometimes stayed very long: So I brought him presently thither, to show him her place. He saw Basilia that very day, and brought me a rough draught of her, which indeed had somewhat of her air. I met him the next day, coming from Church running, but he made a sign to me with his hand, that I should not advance, not so much as looking on me, because he had just then seen my Mistress, and was afraid to lose her perfect Idea, before he had taken a draught of it. I had lent him some Love stories, to put him into a good humour, and to make him go through his work more cheerfully. I also went often to discourse with him, but I put him to a deal of trouble; for I never thought the picture fair enough. At last he came so near it, that I was forced to cry out, There's Basilia, should I deny it! methinks this picture should speak to convince me! After that time, I comforted myself with that picture; and when I was weary of viewing it, I must needs go to see Basilia in the Church. When I went in, I directed my sight to that part where she was; and when I came out, I could not refrain turning my head for to see her. Basilia feared not the assault of an amorous look, as do some maids, who cast down their eyes when they perceive they are looked on. She directed her sight the more fix'dly towards me; and most commonly, being surprised, I seemed to be the more bashful, and drew aside my eyes from her, till she looked off me: Ah fair eyes! what know I whether you did this through confidence or innocency? but what I pray could my soul think to find you so confident to commit murders in such tender age? yet was there a necessity to take all patiently; and it was a far greater cruelty, when Basilia turned her back to me, or kneeled down to read. I often said to her within myself, that her prayers were too long, that she should allow some of her time to hear those I made to her; and that the Gods would not hear her if she did not hear others. My going so often to the same Church, and placing myself ever in the same part, caused my friends when they wanted me, to come and look for me there. Those that passed by, whether of my acquaintance or theirs, made a stay there; so that there was no want of good discourse, because they were all very knowing persons. Basilia was the cause of all our pleasant conferences; and yet there was none but myself that knew it. At length heaven willing to be more favourable to me, ordained it so, that Valerius made acquaintance with Basilia at a Cousins of hers, whither she was wont to go, called Amelita. I prayed him to question Amelita about many things: and see now the fancies of Lovers, I was so afraid he might forget somewhat, that I gave him a note of all he was to do and to say. I wished him among other things, to inquire whether Basilia ever took notice of me; and whether she had found any verses, which I had a while before cast on her window. I had a very good account of that, and of divers other particulars: so that I was more and more inflamed in my pursuit; and I conjured Valerius to acquaint me what day Basilia went to see her Cousin, that so we might go thither together, and that I might there speak to her. At least, said I, if I may not be suffered to speak to her, let me have the liberty to salute her, as often as I shall meet her: For it is insupportable to me, to see myself obliged to pass before her I most honour in the world, and not give her any testimony of my submissions, which I must only do her in my thoughts.  
Let all those Lovers that cannot have access to those they love, consider this, and they will confess themselves to be in the same affliction as myself, and that whoever knew the divers imaginations I had in my Love, will know all that that Passion makes us do. 'Twere sufficient matter of astonishment, to know the strange Commissions Valerius had from me, and in what manner I gave them him.  
And seeing Amelita, Basilia's Cousin was somewhat a light Housewife, seldom found at home, I bid him endeavour to meet with her in the fields or in the Town; but he could not do it in fifteen days; and yet when he went from me in the morning, I charged him to tell her this or that, as if he were infallibly to meet her; and in the evening I ever went to him to know what he had advanced in my business; so that I even persecuted him (if I may so say) by my importunities. One time he brought me very good news; for he told me that Amelita had acquainted him that Basilia would be at her house the next day. We failed not at the time appointed; and I assure you, I was then forced to put on stronger chains than those of my first slavery, Basilia charming me as well by her ingenuity as her beauty. Valerius and Amelita desirous to favour me with all the opportunity might be, left us together, and gave me occasion to declare my sufferings to her, who was the cause of them. A Captain that were to join battle with a most potent Enemy, would not have been guilty of so many distractions as I was then; and not knowing at what end to begin, I ever and anon changed my design.  
At length speaking to Basilia of all the Verses she had found, I acquainted her they were only designed for her; and if I had sought the means to see her in divers places, it was that she might see some experiences of my affection. She answered me, That I had not begun that Gallantry, and that I did not pursue it for any other reason then to make myself sport, as other young Shepherds did. To that I replied all that I could possibly invent, to persuade her that I loved her; and yet she would never confess that she believed aught I said. And 'tis indeed to be acknowledged, that though my cause were good, yet had I not many strong reasons to maintain it: My mind was not free enough for to bethink it of fine words, and I had much a do to keep myself from vanishing away, so violently did my heart beat. I was so surprised, and withal so fearful, that my whole body trembled, and I believe I had fallen down if I had not been seated. Methought also, without flattering myself, that Basilia had no greater confidence of herself, for she blushed and fixed her eyes on the ground, not so much as looking on me. I also believed there had not any Shepherd spoke to her of Love before; but for me who was not an Apprentice in that trade, to be so much troubled, was very strange. Whenever I remembered what action we were in, I had very strange emotions; and I believe we were rather an object of pity then matter of delight to those that saw us. I do not relate to you our discourse word for word, for my astonishment hindered me to observe it: Let it suffice you to know, that I advanced nothing that time; and having met Basilia eight days after in the same place, I was only so happy as to know that she somewhat favoured me. Nay, finding a Pack of Cards on the Chimney-piece, she was in so good a humour as to ask me whether I would play a game with her at Picquet. When I lost any thing, she made some little offers to jeer at me, and among other things told me I was easy to be overcome. There's no greater glory then to be overcome by you, replied I; and yet I should think it better you were not so insolent in your victories as to be abusive; if I ever come to revenge myself, I shall have no pity on you. Upon that having put on a little confidence, I endeavoured to kiss her in my play: but she called Amelita, & said to her, Make Philiris be quiet, I pray; see you how he treats me without any respect! What are you angry at? said I to her: how do you expect I should be wise, since I have lost my discretion? This touch was so gentile, that the Shepherds laughed a good while at it, and in the mean time I found the occasion to take the kiss had been refused me. The next day I brought a pair of Spanish gloves to Amelita, to present to Basilia, having thrust a little Note into one of the fingers, wherein these words were written: Fair hands, who have stolen away my heart, receive the Present I make you of these Gloves, which I do to be out of your debt. Let your fingers confidently enter into them, and there keep them close; there is nothing more convenient for them, since 'tis ordinary for Thiefs to hide themselves. I understood since from a good hand, that my Present was acceptable to Basilia, and that she sent me thanks with much compliment: Yet my amorous remonstrances ever met with small refusals; and the poor Shepherdess had not so much boldness as to confess my services deserved any recompense. Besides she so little studied any compliance, that she said all came to her tongue's end; whereby I might observe, that though her mind was of a sweet composure, yet could she not on any occasions but betray somewhat of want of age, and discover some relic of infancy. Yet one thing I could not but take notice of, that while I sighed when I looked on her, she would go and play with her little Dog, or a Lamb, calling it her Minion and her Servant. I think Amelita pitied me, and that she could not but pray her Cousin to treat me otherwise; for within a little while I perceived that Basilia took some pleasure in my addresses, and came to love me even to jealousy. So that having desired her to let me take her Picture, because that which I had caused to be taken was not (as I thought) much like her, she very handsomely refused it, telling me that she feared I might be more in love with that then with her own true face; and that I should after a while content myself to see that, and speak to it at my own house, in stead of coming to entertain her herself. Now if Painting made her so suspicious, you may well think she was more suspectful of living persons. She would not have me visit any Maid; nay, out of a a fear her Cousin might tempt me to her, she would not have me make any more visits at her house. Since that time, I very difficulty could find the occasions to entertain her: But the first time I saw her, I told her what I thought. Dearest Basilia! said I to her, You need no more distrust me then your own heart: I had rather only think of you, then see the fairest Shepherdess in the world; I would rather see you, then kiss another; I would value one of your kisses more than the perfect enjoyment of another; and if ever I have the happiness to enjoy you, I shall not believe any fortune equal to mine. The applications you have sometimes made to Amelita, replies Basilia, your little reciprocal smile, and so much whispering in the ear, have made me think it not impossible you might build a new affection upon the ruins of the former. Ah Basilia! cried I out, will you ever persecute me thus? Put me upon some dangerous adventures, find out the most subtle inventions in the world for to try whether I love you: And to the end I may chain my up self the further in the fair prison wherein I am, I will give you a strange advice: Seek out that which is strongest in all Magic for to bind the affections, and make use of it in my case; let me take a Philter as powerful as you would give an enemy whose courage you would abate. Basilia took her advantage of this advice; and taking me at my word, she went to an old Sorceress who promised her a Love-potion: But the old was not secret, but went and discovered the design to her Father; who not desiring there should be any love between me and his daughter, because I was not rich enough for her, bethought him how to deceive her. He gave a sum of money to the Sorceress, to make two Drinks, one for love, the other for hatred: That of hatred was given to Basilia, and that for love he took with him. He being gone out of the house, I had the time to see his daughter, for I ever watched when he went abroad: but he presently was back, and brought along with him a Shepherd called Lycastus, whom he intended should marry Basilia, because of his great wealth. Though this were the first time he found me at his house, yet did he not look uncheerfully on me, but desired me to drink with him as well as Lycastus, which familiarity I was much pleased with. We drank of an excellent wine; and the second time he was to present Lycastus, he found the means to put in the Philter. Basilia on the other side lost not her time, and taking my glass, put in some of the Hate-potion. So we took off what was much mis-directed to us. For my part, I was above three hours before I felt any change in my body or mind: But as to Lycastus, being returned home presently after, he fell so sick, that they knew not what remedy to apply. He soon discovered to his father and mother, that the cause of this accident was that he had drunk at Nerian, Basilia's fathers: So that he was called to question as a poisoner. Basilia imagining all the fault might proceed from her, went and declared it was she had put whatever there was in the wine; and desirous to acquit her father, she protested he was not guilty. For my part, having understood the trouble they were in, I would needs deliver them out of it, And though I felt in myself a new slackness towards Basilia, yet could I have desired to die for her: For that diminution of Love came to me only by fits; and Reason, which still swayed my mind, was a sufficient admonitor to me that I ought to be faithful. Nerian was accused for poisoning Lycastus: but Basilia swore he had given it him innocently, and that it was she had made the composure: And I came and declared to the Judges, that it was upon my instigation she had prepared the drink, and that I ought to suffer for it, and not any other. The business was so confounded, that it was not known whether we were guilty or innocent: but Lycastus being soon recovered, we were sent away acquitted, not so much as obliged to tell for what reason we had dressed so dangerous a drink. Lycastus having recovered to his perfect health again, the skill of our Sorceress so wrought in him, that he fell passionately in love with Basilia, and demanded her in marriage of her father, whom a while before he had questioned. Nerian seeing his design effected, very gladly treated with him about the business, to the great regret of Basilia, who saw her Magic had not much operated: for though I ceased not to love her, yet did I not think on her so often as before, nor did look after the occasions to see her, but very indifferently▪ However, at last my natural inclination overcame the charm, and two or three of my Letters assured her that I would live and die in her service. On the other side, the drink which Lycastus had taken being to work but fifteen days, he returned to his former humour, which was far from the marriage he had talked of; so that the next time he saw Nerian, he but very indifferently mentioned it to him. Nerian swore there should never be any such thing; so was he vexed to see himself slieghted; and the same day by divine permission, it happened that our Sorceress was cast into prison. Among other mischiefs she had done, she declared to the Judges how she had sold potions to Basilia and her fathr. Nerian seeing a scandal hanging over his house, would thus repair it; having found me out, he spoke to me of bestowing Basilia on me for my wife: I willingly accepted the proffer, and my friends were very glad to see me preferred so highly. As for Basilia, she, as having ever most passionately loved me, was extremely satisfied, and repented her of the crime she had committed, by trusting to the potions of an inchantress, who robbed some of their lives, and others of their wits. She hath since believed that there needed no other charms then those of her Beauty and her Virtue for to make me love her, though those of her mutual affection did nothing contribute; so that our marriage was thought the most fortunate that ever happened in our Country. Yet having once the curiosity to ask a Fortune-teller, if there were any thing I might be further happy in? he answered me there was; and that I should never be absolutely happy, till I had seen the amiable Shepherd, who feeds his flocks sometimes on the banks of the Seine, and sometimes on those of Morin.  
A while after this there came a Carrier out of this Country, who told me that that Shepherd was called Lysis, and that I should profit much by his conversation. I was of opinion I could not rest while I stood in hostility against the celestial admonitions▪ So that having discovered my designs to Basilia, I soon took leave of her, that I might the sooner see her again. She shed so many tears at my departure, as some fantastical Poets would have thought enough to bring me hither in a boat. Yet I came a foot, and rested not, till I found the incomparable Shepherd of whom my felicity depends. 'Tis you Lysis whom my Fortune-teller told me of; and the sweetness of your conversation, banishes the bitterness which the absence of my dear wife causes me. Now that I am with you, I believe I have found the sovereign good, which so many others are a seeking; and I hope I shall carry into my Country a solid knowledge, which I shall be filled with, when I shall have heard your Lectures.   
Philiris having thus closed his story, Lysis began to speak; and said to him, Gentle Shepherd, the Gods grant thou mayst find with me the satisfaction thou hopest. There's only one thing troubles me, that being married as thou art, and it being in thy power to bring thy wife whither thou pleasest, thou hast been so much to blame as not to have brought her hither. I have the same complaint to make against Fontenay, this second story makes me think on't: You should both of you have brought your dear Halves with you; so you should not have wept for their absence, your contentments had been never the shorter, you should have been in solitude and viduity as you are; you should have had Shepherdesses to entertain and court as well as others; whereas now you may not presume to make any addresses with civility to any of this Country: Besides, you would have done us a great obligation, to let us see Theodora and Basilia, whose perfections would have rendered our company more illustrious.  
As for my dear Theodora, replies Fontenay, you may assure yourself I would have brought her along, had she not been somewhat indisposed when I came away. And for my Basilia, says Philiris, I have left her at home to bear her Father company, who is an ancient man; besides that, I thought that having for a while suffered the rigours of absence, I should at my return receive more infinite pleasure. However, I am not void of comfort here, for the image of my fair Shepherdess is ever before my eyes. I never see Lilies nor Carnations, but I am put in mind of her complexion. I never see the stars, but I think on her eyes, which are my two Planets; and if I see the Moon shine, I am extremely cheered up, because at our parling, Basilia and I mutually promised to behold that Planet at the same hour; so that when I contemplate it, it joys me to know that my Shepherdess doth the same, and that we do both the same action. Nay, I believe, that sometimes the fair Diana wishes me so well, that she carries news to Basilia in what condition I am, and that she can also give me an account how Basilia does, as if her visage were a Looking-glass, wherein by some secret science things might be seen at distance. These are indeed most excellent entertainments for a Lover, says Lysis; I protest to you, that the history of Philiris hath given me so much content, as possibly could be received from it; there's nothing in't but what is sweet and natural. Nay, I do not think the Critic Clarimond hath found any thing in it to carp at. In my opinion Philiris is no more in the right than Fontenay, replies Clarimond; there are also a world of absurdities in his story. These shittle-headed Lovers are pure extravagances; and when I think on the many desires he had about her picture, I believe his fidelity hath not yet restored him to his wits. Above all, I could not but laugh at his conclusion, when he speaks of the abundance of Basilia's tears; for after the sweetness of her studied discourses, he makes her fall into the lowest degree of folly. And though he hath made over his interest to that conceit of the tears and the river to fantastic Poets, yet I doubt not but he will be glad to keep it for himself, and will own it whenever it shall be fathered on him. Besides, both he and Fontenay are both as jealous as ever was Basilia. That they have not brought their wives hither, was for fear they might not be only for them, having heard say, that there are those who marry for them and their friends too. Thou art deceived, says Lysis, they know well enough that every one here hath his Shepherdess, and that it is in this Country that Fidelity hath established her Kingdom; we are all scandalised at the rashness of thy language. If there be any point of their discourse that can offend us, 'tis more than I have yet observed, but the fault is not theirs but Fates. You all know, that in Romances the Love-stories you meet with never come to any end; they are never fully accomplished till the end of the book: see in the mean time Fontenay and Philiris are married already, and consequently have no famous adventures to run through, whereas their marriage should have been at the same time as mine, according to the ordinary method. There must be diversity in the world, else it were not delightful, says Philiris, if you have heard the stories of two married men, you will haply hear anon those of two Bachelors. That's my comfort, says Lysis, there's enough spoken to that subject. There is now nothing troubles me, but that I consider that Fontenay hath not quitted his name, which is the name of a Lordship, more proper to a Soldier then a Shepherd. Yet since the word is derived from Fountain, which is a thing rustical and Pastoral, it shall not be changed. As concerning Philiris, I have only one doubt as to his condition. He mentions his father, his Father in Law, and himself as Shepherds; 'twas a thing I knew not before, that there were any famous Shepherds in Burgundy. You may be assured there are a many, replies Philiris; and they are not rustical persons, but persons of quality, that have renounced the pomp of the Court. I am very glad of it, says Lysis; I hope one day to see a wonderful advancement of the Pastoral life: Should I not accommodate myself here, I would go into your Country, which I had not yet so much as thought on.  
While Lysis spoke thus to Philiris, there came one of Hircans Lackeys, who said his Master expected the company to dine with him. Upon which they all rise up, and took their way towards his Castle. Clarimond, who had some secret talk with Fontenay, learned of him who the new Shepherds were, whom he had seen the day before. When they were come to Hircans, Polidor, Meliantes and Lucida (who was now called Amaryllis) came and received the company: and the Magician asked them what they had been doing all the while. We fell from one discourse into another concerning a Temple which Lysis would build to the honour of Charite, replies Clarimond. I now acquaint the Shepherd Lysis, faies Hircan, that besides the Temple which he hath erected to his Mistress in his own soul, if there be need of a material one, she hath one already, and that the most magnificent that can be imagined. All the earth is her altar, the water is to wash her victims, the air is filled with nothing but the prayers and sighs of her adorers, the elementary fire serves for her sacrifices, the heaven is the roof of the building, and the Planets are the lamps that hang in it. I will not contradict thee in so noble an imagination, replies Lysis, I will think no further of building little Temples to Charite; But thou art withal to know, that we have had other discourse erewhile: we have had a great contestation about Metamorphosed persons, and rural Divinities, which there are divers that cannot believe are at all. I will cure them of that error, says Hircan; put me in mind of it. This discourse ended, Fontenry made a brief relation to his Cousin of the Metamorphosis of Pathenice; and after that they were all sat at table, not forgetting the Shepherd Carmelin, whom they made speak in spite of his teeth, that he might pay his reckoning in good discourse; but Lysis, who could s of nothing but Charite, engaged the company on that subject; and asked Philiris, if he had ever seen that Shepherdess. The question was impertinent enough, because Philiris was but newly arrived into Brie; and yet to see what Lysis would say, he answered, That he had seen that fair one, as he passed by, standing at Orontes' door. I am glad of that, says Lysis, for that is a sign she is not sick. If she had continued sick still, I should not so easily have been gotten abroad, I should have kept my chamber as well as she out of conformy. That I have come abroad while she was sick, I have committed a fault, of which I repent me. But without jesting, Shepherd Philiris, is it then possible that thou hast seen her, and dost not relate the strange astonishment thou wert then in? did she not make thy eyes twinkle, lest her great lustre might dazzle thee? did she not make thee forget, at least for one quarter of an hour, the beauty of thy Basilia? But without dissembling tell me, hadst thou washed thy eyes that morning, for to purify them, and take away the pollution which they had contracted from profane objects, so to make them worthy to contemplate that incomparable countenance? Though Clarimond quarrel with my tears, says Philiris, yet shall I not forbear speaking of them; and assure you, that it is with them that I ever purify my eyes, when I am absent from Basilia. Doubt not but I have seen your Charite, and that she hath put me into that admiration, which is forced on us by all things incomparable. Let me see thy eyes, says Lysis, looking on him; thou liest not, beloved Shepherd, thou hast indeed seen that Shepherdess. I observe in the apples of thy eyes certain little fires, which proceed from hers, and she hath also left there certain touches of her image. There would have been much more, had not her face been bound up, which must have hindered thee to have a full sight of her. Philiris said nothing to that, for he knew not what to answer to that particular. Lysis thought by that, he granted Charite to be still bound up; so that he was well content to be so too; for he had not yet taken of his handkerchief from off his left eye, and he was of opinion, it was rather an ornament to him then an inconvenience.  
The End of the Seveneth Book.   

THE Anti-Romance; OR, THE HISTORY Of the SHEPHERD LYSIS.  
The Eighth Book.  
WHen the Magician and his guests had dined, they went their way into a little Thicket hard by the Castle, where they found Orontes, Florida, Leonora, Angelica, Anselm and Montenor, who had had notice that the assembly of the Shepherds was to be there. Angelica presently acquainted Lysis that his Mistress was well: whereat he was so joyful, that he knew not how well to give her thanks to his mind for bringing him so good news. But to oblige him the more, she sent for Charite, who by her presence put him almost out of himself. When he perceived her face was not bound up, he immediately plucked the handkerchief off his, which was tied over one eye; and cried out, I am no longer sick, since Charite is in health! I must ever be conformable to her: I knew well my eye ailed nothing, as soon as ever she appeared. Now you are to know, dear company, that there is such a sympathy between her and me, that I am not well but when she is so: I would to God the resemblance were yet greater, and that I could be changed into her! 'Tis a thing I passionately wish, and endeavour to attain to: 'Tis the supreme degree of Love, to be changed into the thing loved, according to the opinion of the Philiosophers. Now that this thought is come into my mind, I value not my former metamorphosis: Oh how much better is it to be changed into Charite, then into a Tree! But alas, I cannot be changed into my Shepherdess, if she also be not changed into me: I must first soften her rigour, and suffer incredible afflictions. Do but imagine, says Anselm, that your wish is already effected; and that though you seem to be a Shepherd, that you are indeed the Shepherdess Charite changed into Lysis; and that this Shepherdess here, is the Shepherd Lysis changed into Charite. But I know well enough I am not Charite, replies the Shepherd; for I reason in myself as Lysis was wont to do, and I find in myself my former mind. There's your mistake, fair Charite (says Anselm to Lysis) you are indeed fully and perfectly changed into that Shepherd, so that you want nothing which he had: Lysis hath undergone a reciprocal change, now he seems to us to be Charite. This subtlety pleases me, though I suspect it to be false, replies the Shepherd; for though this change were real, yet is it certain I ought to be nothing else than what I am.  
Had this discourse been any while continued, it would have graveled the Shepherds wit. But these starts being over, Hircan had a mind to some other diversion; and when he had made them all sit down on the grass, he spoke thus: Knights and Ladies, and you Shepherds and Shepherdesses! Since we are so fortunately met here, let us make good use of our time: I think it convenient that those who have run through any remarkable adventures in their life, relate the story of them to the rest; there will be as much profit as pleasure in it. Every one thought his advice very seasonable: And though Fontenay and Philiris had in the morning related their stories, yet they stood not to begin the relation again to those who had not heard them. They said nothing which was not pleasant, whether it were truth or falsehood. Fontenay set out his discourse with a many fresh thoughts; as when he came to speak of the visit of Theodora, he very naturally represented the transportation he was in: He said he placed himself between his Looking-glass and her, and that he endeavoured to see Theodora with one eye, and his own Figure with the other, not knowing which of them he ought to love. At the end of his story, Lysis proposed again how that they ought to regret, in that Theodora was not clad like a man, to make their adventures more remarkable. But insomuch as the more there are in a place together, the more different opinions will there be, so there were a many that contradicted him. Anselm came nearest the mark: For says he to him, since you are troubled that Theodora was not disguised, she should not have been in the same manner as Iphis, who had only put on man's clothes for fear to be ravished; she should have been disguised out of the love she bore herself, that so her history might have been more perfect, and more relative to that of Fontenay, there being a conformity of Adventures, as is seen in Romances: But it is to be known whether a woman that loved herself, would be forced by her passion to go clad like a man, and renounce her sex? It's to he thought she would never do it; for Beauty hath its principal seat in women's faces, and they will much the rather admire it in themselves then in men's countenances: That's contrary to Fontenay, who was forced to seek that in a disguise which naturally he had not. Lysis would have replied to this, but the Ladies caused the discourse to be given over, as relating to a matter that were too subtle and too amorous. Upon that Philiris began to speak, ravishing all by the naturalness of his conceptions. Polidor and Meliantes were desired to honour the company with the like diversion; and Hircan said to them, I know well that your afflictions are so great, that you will not of yourselves be courageous enough to relate your own stories: But here will I make appear the power of my Art, and set your tongues at liberty to declare your past sufferings: Speak without fear one after another. As soon as Hircan had said so to them, they put off their extravagant faces, and put on milder looks, as if really some charm had had its effect on them. And Polidor, seeing that Meliantes give him the honour to speak first, began his story thus.  

The History of POLIDOR.  
THe fairest City in the Kingdom of Persia was the place of my birth: Nor is it to be much admired if I speak French so well; for my father, whose name was Cleon, was of this Country, and had been taken with a Cousin of his called Luthydemus, by some Pirates, who had sold them to their King, in whose attendance they were brought up and advanced. Having learned of my father the language and customs of France, and divers other perfections, I was in hopes one day to become a great man with our Master. But O unhappiness! I fell in love with Rhodogina, who is so cruel that she deserves to be the Queen of Hell. 'Tis true, there are so many lilies and roses in her complexion, that they have not elsewhere to go for to adorn the portals of all the Temples; it is as certain that her body is made up of pearls, diamonds, and threads of gold, so that there falls nothing from her which is not enough to enrich the most insatiable Miser in the world: but who is permitted to enjoy these treasures? Her prisons are stronger than those of our King; her attractions are so powerful, that she draws all to her, and by their graspings, if a coach stuck fast in the mire, would draw it out at one pluck. Her eyes have in them so strong a fire, that one day looking through her window, all the lead melted, and the glass fell down to the ground. Thence she cast her beams on a gutter that was over against her, and the lead thereof being also melted, fell upon a Gentleman that passed by, and entered his head; wherein if she did him any courtesy, 'twas, that whereas his brains before were light, now they were heavy enough. And these are the strange qualities of Rhodogina, which indeed she might employ well, but perpetually does the worst that may be: And whenever I went to see her, I must have stood in a posture to run away, lest I should have been imprisoned; and anointed myself before with whites of eggs and Mallows-water, for fear I should be burnt up by her. When I had declared to her the love she had raised in my heart, she nothing but laughed at it, and assured me she would never have any compassion on me but on certain conditions she would make with me. In the first place, having heard that a certain Courtier called Osthanes had a certain Ring that made him invisible, she told me I must bring her it. That I thought a hard task; for what means is there to take away a thing from a man one sees not? 'Twas reported that Osthanes had the pleasure to go into the women's Stoves, there to contemplate the fair Ladies stark naked, and sometimes to enjoy them, without being perceived by any body: He would be in the King's Cabinet, when the most important affairs of State were in debate: He filched up and down whatever was necessary for his entertainment, yet was not punished for his felonies, because he could not be taken in the fact; and if they would have carried him to prison, he would have vanished away like a spirit. Yet I bethought me to clothe myself like an outlandish Merchant, and take a little shop near his house, being somewhat in hope to get away from him what I desired. I had a Chest wherein I had put some Knives with handles made of Remora's teeth, a Fan of Phoenix feathers, and some other trifles: But all about it I had so disposed certain small wires, wherein the hand that did but touch it was presently caught and secured. Now my hope was, that Osthanes would be caught there; and that if he were, he should give me his Ring to be let loose. Having therefore given him notice that I had some rare merchandises to sell, he told me he was sick, and that till two days were over he could not come and see them. But this was only that I might not suspect him of the intended knavery. I much doubted his intentions; so that I was so fearful he might come into my shop, that I kept always abroad, though I had been assured he could make himself invisible when he pleased. He came that very day to see my Chest; and since it was not only necessary to have his Ring on his finger, but that, to blind the eyes of the world, he must also put the Stone to his mouth, he thought at first to put but one hand on my ware; yet seeing himself alone, his avarice counselled him to put them both: That with the Ring, to his sorrow, was put out first, for it was presently caught in the gin. Osthanes not able to disengage his hand, drew the Chest to him for to carry it away, but that was well chained to the wall. He bethought himself, that if he were taken in that posture, he should suffer some shameful death; so that he was so desperate as to lay hold of a knife that hung at his girdle with the hand that was loose, and to cut off that which was fast at the wrist. I saw him afterwards run away, but I looked not after him, as being content that his hand and Ring was in my chest. I therefore packed up my baggage, and went to present Rhadogina with the Ring she desired. She told me I had not yet sufficiently demonstrated my services, and that I must find her wherever she hid herself. Having therefore put the Ring to her mouth, she became invisible; and I began to cry out to her, How now, perfidious one! will you now frustrate me of the recompense you promised me? I have brought you what you desired, and you give me not what I desire: I have therefore gotten nothing but my own ruin. I shall fall into despair, if you show not yourself: I will break to pieces all your householdstuff, I will slay all creatures both man and beast, nay I will not spare the very infects. While I said this, I heard Rhodigina laugh sometimes here, sometimes there; and I went about in vain with my arms stretched out to be ready to embrace her if I met with her; if I saw a little smoke any where, I ran thither thinking to have her, because I imagined it was her breath; but my arms would close again at my own breast without grasping any thing. This put me into such a fury, that I rudely took hold of a little Girl whom Rhodogina called her Niece, though she was thought to be the mother of it, and made as if I would cast it into a Well. This made Rhodogina come presently to me; and her affection telling her that both hands were not too much to recover the Child, she took out of her mouth the hand that had the Ring, and took from me the poor little one, that cried most pitifully. I than embraced my Mistress, and forced her to confess she was overcome. But besides that, this trick confirmed me that the Girl was her own daughter, which she had had by a more fortunate Lover than I: For the pains she took to save the Child so suddenly, spoke a motherly tenderness. Yet I took no notice of it, only was content to entreat her not to be any longer cruel towards me: But all I could obtain was, that in consideration I had brought her Osthanes his Ring, she would not make use of it against me, and would never be invisible to me. But she provided me another torment in amends of this; and having brought me to the entrance of a Desert, told me I must pass through it to fetch her of a water, which caused such a good memory to those that had but once drunk of it, that they remembered all they ever saw in their lives, even to the least particulars. My mistress gave me a vessel to bring that liquor in, and some arms for to defend myself if any one assaulted me, and besides nine loaves for my viaticum. You will find, says she, a many little Fountains in your way, before you come to the Fountain of Memory, which by its beauty is easily distinguished; and that's the reason I give you no water. But as for bread, you must take some along with you, for you are to pass through places where you will not meet with any. If you are courageous, your journey will be over in nine days, and one loaf a day will be enough: but if you are a coward, it will require a great deal more time, and you will die for hunger ere you return. For my part, I will get nine torches, and will light one every night; and if you be not returned by that time they are all burnt, I shall think no more of you, but think you lost. Rhodogina having said this, I took leave of her; and after I had suffered many inconveniences by the way, I came in four days to a certain River, which I had heard say, was to be passed, to go to the Fountain of Memory. I found very opportunely on the River's side a Tree cut down, on which I got, and by the motion of my hands and feet I crossed to the other side. I was no sooner there, but I perceived the Fountain, which fell into a Basin of white marble: but with the same sight there appears a furious Dragon, which opening a throat like an abyss, made towards me for to devour me. I had a club, which I sent down so far into his throat, that it was not possible for him to bring his jaws together to do me any hurt. So that I confidently went to the Fountain, where I filled my vessel, and expected the Monster with sword in hand. He rushed upon me so violently, that had I not given way, he had cast me to the ground: But that he might not do me any hurt, I cast myself on his back, where I sat as if I had been on horseback. He to rid himself of me, cast himself into the water: but I gave him so many blows on the tail, that he thinking to escape from him that struck him behind, swum over the river and set me ashore very fortunately, for the current had carried away my Tree. I then got off him and took my way, leaving him half dead. I was so afraid I should not be returned to Rhodogina time enough, that I travelled day and night; and one evening was so dry, meeting with no fountain, that I was forced to drink half the water I was to bring her; and thence it came, that I now have an incomparable memory. The next day I bethought me to fill up my vessel with ordinary water; but I was afraid Rhodogina might discover the imposture, so I brought it her but half full. Yet she was content, and commended my diligence, for I was back in a little more than eight days; and I had one of my loayes left, and she one of her torches. I than thought I could not hope any thing from her which I should not obtain: But when she saw I was so confident, she laughed at me, and told me I should not hope ever to enjoy her, if I brought her not a piece of some member of a Shepherd that had sometime been a Tree. Having not met with any such Shepherds in Persia, I took shipping and landed in this Country, where I met with Hircan, who hath related to me the History of the Shepherd Lysis. I have put on the habit I now wear, that I might the more freely converse with this noble company; and having yesterday met with Lysis, I was extremely glad, hoping he would give me what I sought for.   
You are come too late to do any thing in that design, says Lysis; you may see that I am no Tree; and that if your Mistress hath any occasion for wood, she should furnish herself out of the Forests of her own Country. If you own any thing of courtesy, replies Polidor, you will not deny me some piece of your body such as it is; it may be Rhodogina will be content with it, and you will be 〈…〉 shall make her love me ever hereafter. You would make us believe that Rhodogina is a Cannibal, a Crocodile, or a Tigress, since you say she would have a man cut in pieces and brought to her, says Lysis: she only spoke to you of a Tree. Let's not fall out, says Hircan, I'll presently decide your controversy. Let for the present Meliantes speak: See you he's ready to relate his story. Whereupon Meliantes having caused silence to be made, began thus:  

The History of MELIANTES.  
YOu are to know, dear Troop! that this Euthydemus whom Polidor spoke of, is my own father. He brought me up after the French mode, in the midst of the Persian Court; and taught me so many exercises, that I thought the fairest Ladies of the world would be too happy to have me their servant. Yet was I forced to make my addresses to the fair Pamphilia, instead of receiving any from her, though my submissions could not obtain me her favour, so high was her disdain. My only comfort was to see, that greater persons than myself were no better treated: For the King himself who was called Siramnes was of the number of her miserable captives, because the deformity of his face rendered him very disacceptable. He would no more be answered with delays as he was wont, and his design was to make her be brought into his chamber, and there to force her. Pamphilia having had the news of it, was much amazed; and after she had made her remonstrances of it in particular to some of her Lovers, she went and secured herself with Chrysotemis her mother in the Castle of Nomasia, which her father had built by the seaside. 'Twas not long ere Alicantes her brother came thither; and Arimaspus, Nicanor, Hippodamus, and I, who were Servants to that Beauty, went also to the same place to defend her against all enemies. We were presently declared Traitors, and Syramnes sent two thousand men to besiege our Castle, in case we should not in time submit. Pamphilia was now forced to make use of her Servants, though against her will: For her Brother having slighted the Summons had been sent him, there was nothing now to be looked for but fight and ruin. We were so ill muntioned, that in the very first assault Nicanor having spent all his bullets, drew out three or four of his teeth and charged his musket. Barzanes, Lieutenant to the King's troops, had brought no Canon; but not having the patience to stay the coming of any, he would needs one day scale the castle. His people came off very sadly; for we had unpaved all our Court, and having beaten the stones to pieces, we had made them fiery hot for to cast on our enemies as they came up the walls. That being small, insensibly got between their shirts and their skins, and did them a world of mischief; some of it falling into their eyes, immediately blinded them, so that they were forced to retreat without doing any thing. That night we heard a little Bell that rung at a good distance from us: We all thought there might be no design in that, except Alicantes, who made all be silent, and told us he was much deceived if it were not some signal that were given us. When there is no conveyance of Letters (continued he) to persons besieged, their friends speak to them by other artifices: If they come to any eminent place, they show them by lighted torches, by the number whereof they signify the Letters one after another; or for want of that, they have a Bell, whereon they give so many tolls as the discourse they intent requires Letters, and so they may speak at a leagues distance: This secret I learned long since, and now it comes very seasonably to mind. Alicantes having so said, harkened to the several sounds of the Bell; which when he had done, he cries out, Let's be merry, friends! there will relief come very suddenly: Cyniphus, who seems to be of the King's party, promises me to betray him: I am very much given to believe it, for he ever professed a singular friendship to me. All admired to see that Alicantes so well understood the language of Bells; and since that we had none, he took a Kettle, and having gotten on a Turret he beat within it with a stick to answer Cyniphus. We had no answer; for as I heard since, the King's Sentinels discovered the plot, and acquainted the General. He imprisoned Cyniphus, and having put him to the rack he confessed that he was in love with Pamphilia, and that his design was to have relieved her, that he might have enjoyed her afterwards at his pleasure. This being reported to Siramnes, he would seem to appear gracious; and considering that Cyniphus only had a design to betray him, and enjoy her he had designed for himself, but had effected nothing, he thought it enough to punish him in appearance. They told him, that the King did him the favour to give him the choice of his death. He would have his veins opened; and when they went to blind him, that (as they told him) he might not be troubled with the sight of his own blood, he desired to be at liberty, that dying he might behold a picture of Pamphilia. The Executioner answered him, that it was the King's pleasure he should not any longer behold his Mistress, and that he was commanded to blind him. Being in this extremity, he said it could not but be permitted him to sweeten the pangs of death some other way. He caused to be placed near his nostrils the Perfume he most was taken with; he had in his mouth the Sweetmeats he best loved: He caused to be read a most pleasant Love-discourse, and at the same time had a Mufitian to sing an air, which ravished him above the rest: And all this, that he might die voluptuously. He knew not which of all these pleasures he should most intend, when having his eyes blinded, they pinched somewhat hard the veins of his arm and foot only with their nails, and ordered water to fall abundantly into Basins near him. He believed his very veins were opened, and that it was his blood that ran down; so that his imagination was so strong, that weakening by little and little, he died within half an hour. Siramnes was sorry for it, because this man had been all his Council in love-affairs, and there was not any of us which he could not have wished in his room. Some small Field-pieces being come to the besiegers, they would batter down our walls: but we, to strengthen the less fortified places, laid over them our Straw-beds and Featherbeds, and a many baskets of rags, that so the violence of the shot might be smothered, and we secure as to the artillery and arrows. Yet all could not hinder the making a breach; which done, the ditch being filled, the enemy came up to us. Whereupon we four that were the servants of Pamphilia took a generous resolution: We swore that Barzanes should never enter Nomasia, if he passed not through our bellies; That since the stones could not any longer secure Pamphilia, the pikes and the swords must do it, and men must serve for walls. We therefore placed ourselves in a rank on the breach, being fastened one to another at the waste with chains, having also fastened to the two sides of the broken wall those which were at the two ends. Thus were we obliged to fight, though there were no advantage to be expected; and we took away all means of flight, for to make good the breach against the enemy. They who made towards us felt our valour to their sorrow, and were forced to retreat. The worst on't was, that we could not pursue them; but Alicantes who was loose, made bold with half a score soldiers to see them back again. He went so far from the Castle, that he found Barzanes' company so heavy on him, that he was forced to lean against a Cypress-tree; upon that Barzanes run him through with a lance, and fastened him to the tree. Our soldiers seeing their Captain so ill handled, made haste into the Castle, and with us made good the breach, and helped to beat off the enemy; who seeing the night approach, were minded to rest, there being no need they should be so hasty in a thing which they must needs carry. In their return they saw Alicantes who was nailed to the Cypress; and as it happens that in the agony of death a man holds a thing fastest, he had still in his hand a javelin wherewith he seemed to menace them, expecting them in a quiet posture. His countenance it seems had somewhat of horror in it, that so frighted Barzanes' soldiers, that they took him for a Devil, and ran away; but their Captain convinced and reassured them. As the Birds, when they have some time considered the Scarecrow that's placed in the middle of a field and seems to threaten them, perceiving at length it is no man, do not then think it enough to fly about it, but having reassumed their confidence come near it, light on it, nay leave their ordure on it, and eat the grain it guard: So Barzanes' soldiers having discovered that Alicantes was no more than a poor mass of earth, made him a But for their arrows, and shot at him so many as would have killed him, had he not been dead before. After that they did him a many indignities, whereof we saw some part; and yet we could not think him unfortunate, since he had the honour to die standing, as became a brave Captain. Only Chrysotemis and Pamphilia bemoaned him; yet were they fain to quit their mourning, and provide for their own safety. We had not men enough to make up the breaches which might be easily made any where in our walls; and if we had had, they would have been a burden to us, for we wanted all manner of ammunition. We had already made away all our dogs and all our horses, we were ready to make pottage of the leather of our bucklers, and some parchment-books we had found in a study; so that there was no further means to make good the place; and if we intended to avoid the King's fury, we must needs quit a place so unfortunate to us. We therefore got out all in the night at a fally-port, and having buried Alicantes, we embarked ourselves in a vessel that was a Knights a friend of Nicanors, who was very willing to put that obligation on him. We had put fire to part of the Castle of Nomasia, that it might be all burnt, and that Barzanes might not be the better for the riches in it, which having sharpened his avarice had made him so resolute to ruin us. When we were gotten into the sea, we saw the flames, which increased still, and enlightened all the coast, whereat we were somewhat satisfied, considering we left nothing for our enemies, whereof they might triumph. They seeing the Castle afire, knew not whether it were some of theirs had put it afire, or we ourselves through negligence or despair; and they were troubled most, to know whether we had stayed in it to be consumed▪ I know not whether ever they came to know any thing. But I have been told since, that having quenched the fire, they bestowed a whole month, to look for what gold and silver was melted.  
In the mean time we sailed very prosperously, being bound for Greece, to avoid the Tyranny of Syramnes: But when we thought we were not far from some harbour, there rise a wind that quite crossed our design, and was withal so churlish, that it soon made away with sail and tackling: One while our ship seemed to be in the clouds, another she would be so low, as if she had been swallowed down into hell. The Master called one way, the Mariners another; every one commanded, and no body would obey. The Vessel had gotten so many leaks, that there came in more water than could be pumped out; and at last having met with a rock, every one catched at what he could, that might assist him aught to swim. There the men were seen floating with the pack of merchandise, and some had their sides galled which meeting with boards full of nails. No body had any other friend then himself, and every one preferred his own safety before that of another Chrysoternis, and all my companions, were drowned in my sight; but as for Pamphilia, I kept her fast to a piece of the ship, that saved her from shipwreck; and the tempest being over, I saw great fishes that thrust forward our wretched Vessel, and kept it up, as if some God had put them on that employment. We at length arrived at an Island, which seemed to be a desert; and we had not gone a league in it, but we saw a Fortress, with a fine prospect: Thither went we for succour in our affliction; but instead of that there issued out two Giants, who taking Pamphilia, carried her away more rudely than she expected. I thought to have gone in with her, but the gate was shut against me, and I went a little way off for to discharge myself by weeping, as being uncapable of any comfort, for having been such a dastard as to suffer my Mistress to be taken away from me. As soon as I turned my back, the gate was open, upon which I put my hand to my sword, thinking to recover what I had lost; but when I came near the Fortress, the gate was fastened again. So was I abused for a many times, till there came out an aged man; who said to me, Trouble not thyself, Pamphila is in a place where she must remain some time, if thou desirest she may not fall into the hands of Siramnes. If thou wouldst recover her again, get the assistance of the French Shepherd, who is he alone that can one day restore her to thee. I asked the good man, where I might find that valiant Shepherd, who telling me he would effect my desire, gave me a drink, which made me sleep along time. When I waked, I was near Hircans Castle, where I met my Cousin Polidor, who told me what Country I was in; and we came together, and made acquaintance with this knowing Magician, who hath caused us to be clothed as we are, and hath told us wonders of the Shepherd Lysis, and assured us that it is only through his means that our misfortune must come to any Period.   
Meliantes having spoken thus, Orontes and some others of the more discreet of the company, easily discovered by certain actions, that the extravagancies of these new Shepherds were merely personated and feigned, and that they were considerate persons, who as well as Hircan, had a design to make sport with Lysis. However, they dissembled it, and referred it to another time, to be acquainted with them.  
Clarimond, who was resolved ever to contradict Lysis, only to have somewhat to dispute on, and to make sport with him, jeered at the History of Polidor, and that of Meliantes, though all the rest seemed to admire them. He said they were two summary examples out of the most impertinent Romances in the world; and that the one was a foolish tale, such as old wives tell children; and the other a Fable▪ dressed in the form of a true-relation, yet full of passages far from any probability. Polidor and Meliantes seemed to be angry, and said, that Clarimond was an ignorant fellow, for to doubt of any thing they had related before Hircan, who was so learned, that he knew the most secret things, and could convince them of falsehood, if they were guilty of any such thing. The Magcian thereupon confirmed what they had said; and Lysis, not able any longer to bear with the perpetual contradictions of Clarimond, was implacably angry with him. Assure thyself, says he to him, that if thou continue such a life as thou hast begun, I will chastise thee as thou deservest. Thou shalt not have the honour to write my history, thou shalt be no longer the treasurer of my imaginations. I have already cast my eyes on Philiris, whose humour is mild and complaisant, and his discourse most eloquent. He'll be a better author than thou. Le's not do any thing hastily, says Hircan, Clarimond will be more discreet. He shall not henceforth misemploy his engenuity. Le's talk of some other things that present themselves.  
Clarimond at that held his peace, as seeming to put on more modesty, and Hircan continuing his discourse, Gracious Shepherd, says he to Lysis, we must needs satisfy these two Persian Knights, that have come so far to see us; and as for Polidor, methinks since Rhodogina, hath required of him but the wood of a Shepherd that was changed into a Tree, or if you will, a bough of a tree that sometimes was a Shepherd. She will haply content herself with that of a tree; whereinto a Shepherdess was sometimes metamorphosed, as there are enough in this Country. You remember well that you have conversed with Hamadryads, some one of them shall give us what we desire, either by fair means or foul. It comes into my mind, that a while since you complained to me of the incredulity of some, who deny that a humane creature can be changed into a tree; I promised you to bring them out of their error, and since there are some of them here present, I am content for their sakes to do a miracle, and to show you even in broad day, a Divinity which never appears to the eyes of men, if my charms do not force it. You will oblige us all infinitely, replies Lysis, begin your enchantments when you please, you never had a fairer occasion to make use of them.  
Upon this Hircan rises out of his place, and taking out of his pocket a High-Dutch Book, he began to read a loud ten or twelve lines. The Ladies, who knew he was no Magician, were yet somewhat afraid to hear him pronounce such a sort of strange words, which they all took for the names of Devils; and they were ready to run away, had not Orontes reassured them, by whispering somewhat to them. No body therefore stirred, except Carmelin, who for very fear began to take his way. Clarimond and Philiris ran after him, and brought him back to the company, telling him he must stay and see if Hircan could make a Hamadryad appear, since he was one of those that did not believe there were any in the world. I will not see any of those creatures, replied he, I had rather grant my Master that there are abundance in this very Country; and that I have seen but too many to my sorrow one night that I was in his company: But if you will force me to stay here to see such she-devils, give me first leave to go somewhere and get some salt: for I remember that my great Aunt talking to me one night by the fire side when I was little, told me, how that a certain man, being gotten into an assembly of Witches, where there was good cheer enough, asked of those that served, for some salt, seeing there was none, and that the feast seemed to be imperfect without it; besides, you know well enough, that in some houses, when the salt-seller is wanting among other necessary things at meal, they bid the men or maids take a ladder, for to see what is wanting at the table. Now they brought to this man a salt-seller full of the crumb of bread; seeing which, he cried out, O my God shall I have no salt? which done, all that were present vanished. By this it is known, that the Devils hate salt, and that they will not stay in the place where there is any, nor where it is spoken of, because they are spirits of discord, and that salt is an emblem of concord, witness the proverb, which says, that to know a man well, a man should eat a bushel of salt with him. Now there is no body can know so fraudulent a beast as the Devil, for a man never eats any salt with him: Since I know 'tis a thing he hates so much, I would have some to make him fly away; I presently start away assoon as there is any mention of those black Angels. Carmelin is so learned to day, that a man cannot confute him, says Clarimond; he draws consequences from every thing; and yet I will not suffer him to go for any salt at present, nor seek for any other subtlety that might make the Hamadryad vanish, since it is our desire to see her, and that there is no danger to stay. She'll come alone, and we are a great many to resist her, if she were minded to do us any mischief; and besides, there's no such fear of Spirits in the day as in the night.  
I know not whether these reasons prevailed with Carmelin; but he was forced to stay, for Philiris and Clarimond held him fast by the arms. Hircan in the mean time reading his book, made some figures on the ground with a rod he had; and at length he with a loud and clear voice cries out, Fair Hamadryad! fair Cherrytree Nymph! I conjure thee by Horta Goddess of the Gardens, and by Pan God of the Fields, immediately to appear here in a visible and delightful form, so that thou frighten no body.  
Every one than looked about, not knowing what would happen; and Hircan having iterated his conjuration three times, there issued a monstrous shape of a Woman out of the thickest part of the Thicket. She was coifed with green moss; her face was nothing but flat bark, wherein there were holes, two for the eyes, and one for the mouth, without any appearance of nose. All her body was in the same manner covered with barks of tree, which were disposed like the scales on a fishes back; so that this Hamadryad causing them by her frisking to knock and beat together, made no small noise. By this stirring to and fro, a piece of bark broke off, and Hircan very carefully taking it up, Be of good comfort, says he to Polidor; see here the Hamadryad grants your desire. This wood I esteem very excellent; for to obtain which I doubt not but your Mistress hath made you undertake this great journey: When she hath it once, she will make handles for knives with it, or haply she will stamp it for to make a drug of it for some secret receipt. Now you that are present, consider well the Hamadryad, and henceforth give credit to sacred mysteries.  
The noseless Nymph danced all the while he said this, and at last having taken a turn about the company, she went away the same way she came, leaving all much astonished at the subtlety of Hircan. It was a Servant-maid of the Nymph Lucida, who was lately become the Shepherdess Amaryllis. The Magician had caused her to be so disguised, because Lysis had spoken to him of Clarimond's incredulity. They had made her a Mask of Bark, and a Gown of a many pieces of the same stuff fastened together; and Hircan having made sign to some of his people to make her be ready, she came just in the nick.  
Here was Lysis as prettily cheated as ever he was in his life; and the Nymph being retired, there was only one small scruple that troubled his mind. I pray you tell me one thing, says he to Hircan; why hath this Hamadryad appeared now with such a rough face and gross body, whereas when I was a Tree I saw her every night in a form fair and favourable enough. That fault is only to be imputed to your eyes, replies Hircan; you were then a Demigod of the Forests, but now you are a man, and cannot see through the veils which cover the Deities. Now that none of all that are here present may doubt of the greatness of my power, I will restore to this Hamadryad her humane nature which she sometimes had; nor indeed is it the will of Fate she should always live within a tree. Hircan having said this, read somewhat in his book, and then called, O Hamadryad! I command thee to become a Maid, and that immediately there appear Amaryllis 's Maid in her ordinary clothes. Behold her that sometimes was an Hamadryad! cries out Lysis; I know her well enough again: Oh how great is the power of Hircan! You see, answers the Magician, that this Cherry-Nymph hath been very easy to transform; she hath not been so obstinate as you, who put me to so much trouble, that I was forced to conjure the winds to come and bring you down. I was afraid to lose any thing of my felicity by change of form, replies Lysis; you know it better than myself.  
This discourse was interrupted by the arrival of the Nymph, whom all called Lisetta. When she was come near Polidor, he fell on his knees before her and humbly thanked her for the wood she had bestowed on him. She knew not how to return his compliment, and was busy to hearken to Lysis, who asked Hircan if there were no means to restore their former shapes to the Cypress and the Apricock-Nymph. He answered, that Fate had ordained it otherwise; but the reason was, because the Youth that played on the Violin was gone from him, and the other Hamadryad was gone with Synopa, whom the evening before she waited for in the coach, while that Nymph spoke to Lysis and Carmelin under the name of Parthenice, and when she parted from them without bidding them farewell, to show the more indifferency in the vexation she was then in.  
Carmelin in this mean time was perpetually pulling his Master by the sleeve, which the other took no notice of; but at last being forced to turn his head, he asked him what he would have. My master! says he to him, Methinks this Lisetta is as good as another; tell me whether it will be convenient for me to fall in love with her. Ha! inconstant wretch, replies Lysis, I see thou wouldst be perpetually agitated among the divers sigh of the Nymphs, like a leaf by the breathe of the winds: Know that Fidelity honours men with eternal renown, and that thou ought'st to love thy Parthenice to the death, if thou desirest to be recommended to Posterity.  
Carmelin was much troubled at this answer, for he could not be content to have a stone for his Mistress, whose kisses were cold and rough. Yet had he not the leisure to reply, because Philiris came and told him he must do what his master commanded him. And in the mean time Lysis viewing all the company one after another, spoke to them to this purpose. As for Orontes, Florida, and Leonora, who have already gone through the ardours of youth, they are not obliged to relate their Loves; they are here only to judge of ours. As for Anselm and Angelica, I know somewhat of their affairs, Fontenay, Philiris, Polidor, and Meliantes have already related their stories. I know well enough that of Lisetta, otherwise called the Cherry-Nymph: Hircan's life is well known: Clarimond hath nothing worth the telling us. Therefore there remains none but the Shepherdess Amaryllis that can entertain the company: We must enrteat her to let us have her story; I believe there must be very brave things in it; for having the countenance like that of Lucida, divers besides myself both Gods and men might have taken her for that Nymph. Now 'tis certain these mistakes cause strange adventures, as may be observed, if it be considered what misfortunes Lydamon suffered being taken for Lydias. Fair Amaryllis, says Orontes, will you satisfy our desires? I humbly beseech you and the rest of this honourable company to excuse me, replied she; for I have made a vow never to discover my Loves till they are more fortunate, and that I therein effectuate my expectations. If my Shepherd should turn his love from me, I should be too much troubled it should be known I ever bore him any affection: There's nothing more insupportable than disdain, and so much the more when it is public. We must not take away modesty from women and maids, says Lysis, we shall withal rob them of their honour. There are in all companies some discreet reserved persons, who are willing to know the affairs of others, but will not discover their own. That is practised in all good Romances, when the Authors endeavour pleasure by variety. I willingly excuse Amaryllis for not relating her Loves to us; yet must she at the least acquaint us with somewhat of her condition. In this I shall easily study your satisfaction, says Amaryllis: I am a Gentlewoman of good birth, and allied to Hircan; but this learned person being come to visit me at my house which is not far hence, hath persuaded me to put on the habit of a Shepherdess to live more contentedly. Your intentions are so good and so just, says Lysis, that I believe heaven cannot but prosper them: For my part, I shall do whatever lies in my power for you. Amaryllis thanked Lysis for his courtesy, and was very glad to be pardoned the relating of her story, for she was not prepared for it; besides, that she was somewhat high-conceited, and would not find sport for the other Ladies, if they did not the like to her. She would very fain have had Angelica relate a story as well as she; and in this renowned company, she was much more reserved, then with Synopa, whom she esteemed not so much, when they personated the Nymphs of the Fountains.  
Orontes perceiving she had no mind to speak any more: The best is yet to come, says he; every one hath been commanded to relate his story, and none hath spoken to Carmelin, who is a gallant person. He must not scape without telling us of his noble adventures: You'll pardon me, says Carmelin; for I see my Master will not have me appear among honest people, no more than if I were some Renegado or Rogue redeemed from the Galleys. Thou wrong'st me to think so of me, says Lysis, for in case thou mayst be now ashamed to speak, I give thee free leave to do it: But what will you have me tell you? replies Carmelin; I am not of these amorous people that fall into Transes, who have already spoken: what Loves have I to relate to you? 'Tis true, thou hast not much to say, as to the love of Parthenice, replies Lysis: but take the story higher, and relate to us thy whole life such as it is. And if thou hast any knavish conceits, so much the better; for after so many serious things as we have heard, it will not be amiss to hear somewhat more facetious, and it will be as good as if we had a Mask after a Tragicomedy. Very well, you take me then for some Hocus Pocus, says Carmelin; do I look like one that could make others laugh? Thou art already worthy to be laughed at for saying so (replies Lysis) but in the worst way; for thou art ignorant what a glory it is to play the fool handsomely; and that if thou couldst do it, thy jesting were honourable: Be not therefore angry, but acquaint us with thy life as thou pleasest. If thou wilt not fill it with Gallantry, let it be stored with Doctrine, and show us that thou art indeed so well qualified, and of so good parts as thou art, and that thou oughtest not to be listed among fools. Carmelin having upon that a little bethought himself of what he should say; thus began his story, putting himself into a more cheerful posture then before.  

The History of CARMELIN.  
SInce it is desired I should relate my life, I am to endeavour to go through with it to my credit, as I have done in all things I have ever undertaken: and that my Auditors may the better comprehend all I shall say, I shall observe such order in my discourses, that they shall be linked together like pearls. That I may speak of my Father and Mother, before I speak of their child, I must tell you, they were born and bred in Lions; and that it was in the same fair City they forged me; my Father was called Goodman Alleaume, and my Mother Goodwife Pasquet, people without reproach, who ought neither God nor the world any thing, and lived upon what they got by making of Canvas: They were so well known in the City, that when they walked out on Sundays, a man could hear nothing here and there, but Goodman Alleaume, and Goodwife Pasquet; and they met not an Alehouse where they took not their stage, though they drank but a pint. They received so many presents from all parts, that when they returned home, the belly was ever full, and the back loaden: Alas! they died too soon for me, and I have only known their great prosperity but by hear-say. At seven years of age was I an Orphan, and was forced to go and live with an uncle of mine, who would have kept me with air, had it been possible. His caitiff-life was such a plague to me, that I soon had a desire to put myself to service with some good Master that could afford me better cheer. I was but eleven year old, and was not very tall, nor very strong, and yet my uncle made a shift to get me a service: He placed me with a pretty little man, that lived upon his rents; and one that would not keep a Lackey any bigger than I, lest he might beat him. 'Twas a miracle how nature had been able to make a man out of so little matter: nor indeed do I well know whether I may assure you it was one, for he was not so tall as I was then.  
It was reported in the Town, that his father, when his mother was half gone with child, was gone to travel; and that having not the wit to cause the work to be finished by another, she had brought forth an imperfect thing. For my part, when I followed Mr. Taupin (that was his name) I was sometimes in much fear lest the wind might carry him away as a straw; and if he were to cross some kennel, I had the same fear he might be drowned, and that it were as hard a task to look for him, as for pins. He had no great mind to go a foot, for the avoiding of all these misfortunes; so that he caused a little coach to be made, drawn by one little horse, and driven by a Coachman proportionable, that all might be in a conformity. When I was gotten up at the coach tail, our equipage was looked on with admiration; and there was a certain Citizen said very pleasantly, that there was no need to go to Cabinets for Rarities, to see a ship covered with the wing of a fly; or a box complete in all its parts, that weighed not in all the weight of a grain of Turkey wheat; when that without any trouble Taupin was to be seen, with his Coach, his Horse, his Coachman and his Lackey, that weighed but a Mustardseed. My master was not a little vexed that he was so low, and a man could never please him better, then to tell him that there were less than he in the world: but those that told him that lie, would have been somewhat puzzled to tell him the place where they had seen any such, if they meant not your Puppets in Fairs; for as for your Prince's Dwarves, they were Giants in comparison of him. Yet would he take some heart, when any body would tell him that he was a man of a middle stature, and that all might so esteem him: when he walked the streets, he would take it where it was highest; and if he were in a Chamber, he ever got up on a stool.  
To sum up his misery, the fates ordained he should fall in Love with the greatest and biggest woman in all Lions, as if out of a hatred to littleness, he had sought for nothing but height, and would not marry one proportionate to himself, lest they might have gotten children too little. He had already been married to a woman of a middle stature, who had not carried herself over honestly, but he had taken order with her; for having known how that her private friend came to her every night into an arbour, which was at the end of the garden, he caused the floor of it, which was but of wood to be unnailed and loosened; so that the first time they met there, they stirred so much about, that at last down they fell, and were killed with their fall, crushing a poor Greyhound, that belonged to the house, and had followed the woman. He easily obtained his pardon, and it was generally thought the whore and the knave were well served, and that all the hurt was done, was to the poor dog, who had not deserved it. Though the great woman, which Taupin was a suitor to, knew all this business, yet did she not fear the subtle designs of such a husband, because she was a woman lived as honestly as another. I know not whether it were against her will, but the truth was, that in the memory of man it was not known she was otherwise called then Mistress Radegonda: now this was her true name; and for those base names, which out of respect to the Ladies I shall not here mention, they had never grated any skin off her ears. I know well enough, that there are some malicious people would persuade us, that it was the worst you could say to her to call her by that name, being the most known name she had, was that of an ill-liver; so that another woman would have been angry to be called so, and that it were not to be spoken, without reverence used before. However, let us not hearken to calumny, and let us believe Radegonda had no hurt in her, but that she was suspected.  
As for Taupin, Love so blinded him, that he thought not of any thing but how to get into his Mistress' favour. He wore Galloches and a high-crowned Hat, that he might appear tall; but he must have had Stilts, had he been only to reach the knees of his fair one. Nay, the day they were married, the Priest unwilling to be at so much trouble as to cast down his eyes towards him, and perceiving he could not possibly reach the Bride's hand unless he was raised higher, he was by his order seated upon the poormen's Box. Every one said, that Radegonda would hide such a Husband in her pocket; and that it was to be feared, lest being a-bed with her, she might crush him between her nails in stead of a Flea.  
For to find the Town more work to laugh at, it happened that the next day after the wedding, Radegonda would bring all her household stuff to her husband's house; but her equipage was so much too big, as his was too little. There was a great Couch, great Chairs, and a great Table; so that they were fain to enlarge Taupin's doors for to bring them in: But that was not only requisite as to that end, but also to receive in Radegonda herself, who would have been forced to lie in the street, had things continued as before. About this time a new design came into Taupin's mind, which was, that he thought it sufficient to be little only in regard of his Body, without making himself so otherwise, as having but small householdstuff: He therefore gave order to make every thing great, desiring, as he said, to imitate Alexander King of Macedon, who had been called the great, though he were but little; and had used no other invention to make posterity believe he was of an high stature, but by leaving at the ends of his Conquests such Arms as should serve a Giant, as if they had been his own. Taupin accordingly thenceforward made himself great Doublets, and great Breeches, and long Cloaks, which he seldom wore, but laid them up in his Wardrobe for a Bravado, that those which saw them might think he was no small person. He studied nothing so much as to seem rich, that so it might be said he were some great man; and out of a desire not to be mentioned without some imagination of grandeur, he thought it would not be amiss to make his name up from two syllables to six or seven, and to be called La Taupinicre instead of Taupin. For my part, I was nothing pleased with this change, but in as much as I hoped there might also be an increase in the house-keeping as well as in the other things; for a great Body, such as Radegonda's, doth necessarily require more meat to nourish it then a little one, such as her husbands; and thence did I propose to myself that my belly might far better than it did before with my master, who when he fed alone caused but a very small matter to be provided, thinking his servants had been as small feeders as himself.  
The advantage which besides came to me by this marriage, was, that his wife being a charitable woman, put me to learn to read and write, hoping to bring me to some good. As for Taupin, I know not whether he had any desire to put me forward: But one thing I must say for him, he ever kept what he promised; but let me explain myself, I mean that if he promised you any thing, he kept it so well that he would never give it you. And this is the reason I did not much stick to anger him divers times together. One day above all, being in his Countryhouse, and having sent me to Lions to buy some provisions, he asked me at my return, what they said in the Town when I came out? They said Evening-prayer, Sir, said I to him. He in stead of laughing at my simplicity, was most furiously angry with me, saying I did nothing but abuse him; and two days after he dismissed me. I have understood since, that the greatest reason he had to put me away, was, that he saw I grew up daily, and that he grew not as well as I. I was at that time courageous enough and strong enough to deal with him, if he would have beaten me. He thought it not best to keep such naughty boys, 'twas enough to have a naughty wife, who had now left off her good conditions, and did nothing but slight him. When he thought to cry, it seemed to be a Chick that had the pip; but Radegonda had a voice that filled his ears as if it had been the sound of a bell. She by way of abuse would ask him, Who's that below? or else she would say to him, How's this, that I hear you speak, and cannot see you? I have been told, that one day being in a fury, she looked for him all the house over for to whip him: He sometimes hid himself in a Rat's nest, and sometimes in a pennard; but at last shifting from one place to another, he was found in a corner of the Study which the Maid had forgotten to make clean, and there had he so entangled himself in a great cobweb, that he was taken like a bird in the net. Radegonda came to him, and having under some pretence disentangled him, she brought him to the beds-post, where one hair was enough to tie him; and when she had done, swept his buttocks. He would after that be separated from her as to body and goods, as I believe he is now, whether he be dead or alive.  
When I parted from him, I went and lived with a Doctor of Physic, who took me for to be his Groom, and to dress his Mule, and to follow him up and down: But being one evening in the stable, methought the beast was not well. I went and told my master that his mule had caught a cold, and had a cough; I asked him what he thought fit I should do to her. Put my nightcap on her head, answered he. I presently believed that the Doctor was so skilful, that all that he prescribed must infallibly be done: besides that, I thought it not amiss to keep the Beast warm. But her head being too big for the cap, I came and told my master that his cap was too little, and that but one ear could get in. He was much taken with the simplicity of my youth, which hath furnished him with stories to divert his Patients; for he cured them as much by his merry Conceits, as by his Receipts. His Mule having afterwards been well dressed by a Farrier, I wondered to see that a Physician could cure men, and not cure beasts. The pleasant humour of him I served, was indeed enough to make me love him. 'Twas he, who having seen the urine of a sick woman which was brought him by a Country-fellow, asked him twice as much as he was wont to take. Why do you ask me so much, Mr. Doctor? says the Countryman. Because I have seen two urines, friend, answered he; I have seen that of your wife, and that of your dog that hath just now pissed against my carpet.  
In as much as at that time I was of an humour jovial enough, I was much pleased with these pleasant rencontres, and I was ever very proud to learn some good word. But all that did but satisfy the mind, and nor the body: I could easily perceive a decay as to the good condition of the sheath of my soul, and the mould of my doublet grew less and less. The Doctor so pestered my head with his precepts of Abstinence, and he would needs have me content myself with one meal a day, so to rid myself of my fatness, and be more nimble to run after him. Could his Mule have spoken, she would have complained of his niggardliness as well as I; and as for her being sick, it was purely for want of meat. The Doctor never went into any house, but coming out he brought away some old piece of Mat for to give his Mule, who sometimes had not broke her fast at five in the afternoon. For my part, I so much pitied the languishing condition of the poor creature, that I had not the heart to be her Governor any longer, since I had more will than ability to do her any good. I thereupon left my Doctor; and having made acquaintance with one of his Patients, I engaged myself in the honourable quality of a Lackey, as I was thought deserving. This Patient was a Gentleman whose name was Tristan, one very easily served: For being in a quartan Ague, which had now stuck to him a year, he never went out of his chamber, and I had no other work to do but to reach him the glass and the chamber-pot, and some other necessaries. His conversation was very pleasant: Melancholy and Solitude had half made him an Idiot. He had gotten measures of Parchment, such as Tailors have, wherewith he measured himself every day all over his body, to see if the swelling were nothing diminished. He had a measure for every toe, another for each leg, another for each thigh, another for the waste, another for the breast: And when he found that any of those parts grew less, he accordingly shortened his measures. I was the faithful guardian of those measures, all which I locked up into a Drawer before him, taking an oath not to lengthen nor shorten them.  
This humour found me a great deal of sport; but I'll tell you of another, an admirable one, which was of some advantage to me: Tristan having no other employment all day long, but to consider what he found in his close-stool, wondered to find there sometimes yellow matter, sometimes green; sometimes hard, and sometimes soft. He would needs know whether that proceeded from his indisposition or no, and finding me as he thought sufficiently in health, he resolved I should eat of the same meat that he did, to see if I should void the like matter. To satisfy this humour, I had brought me in the morning a broth, which I took at the same time he took his. We afterward together took a jelly made of Knuckles and Marrowbones, and then eat a boiled Capon, and at night we had some tame fowl roasted; I never had made so good cheer, the change of meat put me into such a looseness the first day, that Tristan was almost persuaded that his diet was not wholesome; but the second day, having recovered my former temper, and he on the contrary having done nothing but clear water, he despaired of imagining himself extremely sick. At last he bethought himself, that to make better experience, I must be gotten into bed as well as be. There was presently made ready a pallet in his chamber for me, where I was to continue a long time; and this I took no pleasure in, but my felicity was now a burden to me. I had rather have been at liberty, then have made so good cheer, I was so strictly looked to, that though I should have died for hunger or thirst, yet would they not give me any thing to eat or drink, but at my Master's hours; and that if I were to go to stool, it must be also near about the time that he went, and that in a basin that was at his beds feet, lest in case I went aside to do it, there might be some falsification in the matter. He kept a memorial of the quantity and colour of my stools and his own, and all he wanted, was to know the weight and the taste. But let that pass: I should not have cared, if when he took glisters, or any physic, I had not also been obliged to take the same, to see the difference of the operation; and to make a short end of me, he had a design to have a diet prescribed, to see if the change of diet would change the disposition. At certain times I must have fasted as he did, to my great indignation: but at length, God took compassion on us both, and my Master having recovered his health, gave me leave to be well too, that I might wait on him on all occasions: Yet there was still a relic of folly in his head, which did some injury to his feet. However, I lived peaceably with him, and in all the precipitate journeys he put me upon. I resolutely attended him to Paris, where being advised by some wise and considerate persons, I begged of him that he would put me out to some Trade, whereby I might get my living: in consideration of my assistance when he was sick, he bound me Apprentice to a Joiner in that brave City, where I chose rather to live, then in my own. I was not now so foolish as when I was young, when it being proposed to me to be bound to this or that, or the other Trade; I said, I would not be any of all those, why do you not tell me of a great many others that are better? It is better I were Apprentice to a Councillor or a Gentleman, I thought that for to be a Judge or a Councillor, 'twas enough to be a Clerk or a Servingman; and to be a Lord or a Gentleman, there were no more than to be a Lackey: but I was now grown wiser.  
Tristan returning to Lions, left me with the Master where he had placed me, of whom I thought in a little time to have learned the Trade: and when he sometimes beat me, because my work was not to his mind, I was so ingenious, as to go and persuade the Carriers of our Country, that if my Master was rough to me, was because it vexed him to see me already a better workman than himself.  
I will tell you one remarkable thing that happened in his house: This Joiner was a good big fellow, and none of the worst faces, and had been chosen Corporal of the Trained Bands in his quarter; and in that quality had appeared in several musters, and had with his company guarded one of the gates: This service had made him so proud, that he imagined himself descended from one of the Nine Worthies. When ever he had on the scarlet suit with gold lace, which he had made him for his days of Triumph, I must have doubled the accustomed honours and respects.  
Having made acquaintance with a young man, a Painter, he would needs be drawn in that fine suit (which he was mightily taken with) with a Gorget, a grey Hat on his head, with a great Feather, a Sword by his side, booted and spurred, and having one hand on a little table, wherein there was to be a Head-piece, and two Gauntlets. The Painter having done this rare piece, brought it to my Master, and received his money. There was no fault in it, but that the colours had not lustre enough. 'Tis true, the Painter told him, that when the picture were dry, there were no more to do then to take a wet napkin and rub it, and that would make it the fairest thing in the world; but that he should not put himself to that trouble, unless he were to show it to some people of good rank. The Joiner believed it, and a while after, he invited seven or eight Citizens, kinsfolk and friends, to dine at his house, and as it was on purpose to show them his own fine picture. When they had quaffed it to some purpose in the Parlour, where they had stayed a while, because of the coolness, he told the guests, that he would show them a picture he had caused to be drawn. He brought them up into his chamber, where hung this Masterpiece, which every one looked very strangely on. They saw it was very poorly done, yet no body durst say any thing, because of displeasing him. But my Master thinking they esteemed not that picture as they should, because they saw not all the perfections of it, was resolved to make use of his secret to make it look fair. You shall presently see what miracle there is in this picture, says he to the company; I'll make it look for otherwise. Boy, bring hither a napkin, and a pail of water. I obeyed his command, and the Joiner having wetted the cloth, rubbed the picture all over: But O the strange Prodigy! Was not this one of the Metamorphosis whereof the Shepherd Lysis hath so often spoken? instead of having a plume of feathers on the hat, there was only a huge pair of horns; instead of boots, a high pair of Country shoes; instead of a sword, there was a compass; and upon the table a plank, and a smoothing place, instead of the head-piece and gauntlets. O the great scandal there was I my Master having received such an affront, before people that could not but laugh at it, swore he would make the Painter repent it, and that without any more ado, he would indict him, but he had left Paris, and was gone to travel. It was said he had in the first place drawn in oil the picture of the horned Joiner, and that afterwards he had made the Gentleman joiner upon the other in distemper, so that the water might easily wipe out this last draught. This Painter bore a spite to my Master, because that being once on the guard, he had suffered him to stand sentinel longer than his time; besides, that he could not brook so great an insolence, as that a Joiner would be painted like a Gentleman. And this was the reason of the cheat; but that which troubled my Master most, were the horns, for to threaten him with those, was to make him utterly despair, who had a young woman to his wife.  
All the misfortune fell on my head, there being no other he could quarrel with: he was angry that I had brought him the water so soon, and it was not enough to excuse me, to tell him I had done nothing but by his command. He never bore me good will since; and yet when my time was out, I was a long while Jorneyman with him, but I have nothiag to tell you as to that. I am only to acquaint you, that at length a famous Doctor, in whose study I put up some shelves, taking notice of me, entertained me, for to make me a knowing and learned man. Since that I served a Stationer that made Almanacs, as you have already heard; and now I am in service with the Shepherd Lysis, where if my condition be good, I appeal to this honourable company. 'Tis well known, what I have done since I came to this Country: so that I may here end my discourse, and crave your pardons if it have not pleased: As for example, if I have spoken of a business too obscene in the history of my Master Tristan. I beseech you not to to be offended; for as the speaking of oil and grease doth not spot our clothes, so I conceive my words stink not.   
Assoon as Carmelin had given over speaking, the whole company gave him a thousand commendations, swearing they never had heard a more pleasant story. 'Twas the opinion even of Clarimond, who preferred his eloquence before that of Philiris and the other Shepherds, and told him there was nothing he could be taxed for, saving that he lied a little when he spoke of Taupin, whom he made so little and weak, that he seemed to relate a fable. Yet have I said nothing of his stature which divers of his acquaintance will not affirm, replies Carmelin; if I have added any thing, it hath been for the ornament of the discourse: but if you had given me time to prepare myself, I had spoken more bravely, and would have displayed all my science, whereof I should have scattered some hints up and down. 'Tis a sad loss you have not done it, says Orontes, we have lost much by the bargain, you must make us amends some other time. He shall not fail, says Lysis: But there's none of you all considers what he said of the Joiner's picture; He almost believes that the change that happened therein was a Metamorphosis, like those whereof I have given so many examples. And to be serious, he were better be of that opinion, then to go and imagine that the Painter put one colour on another. I do not believe there can be any such subtlety used. It will be a thing more noble, and withal more probable, that all here present who are assured of the power of the Divinity, should imagine that the Picture of the Gentleman was metamorphosed into that of a Cuckold, by a celestial miracle, to punish a Knave that would appear what he was not. To avoid quarrelling, I'll believe what you please, says Carmelin: Then, as for the humour of this Corporal, was it not such as it should be, as I have already made appear? He was not any thing liberal; and I forgot to tell you that he never made any provision for his house, for he never bought neither bread nor wine, but as much as would serve at the meal; because (said he) if he had a great Loaf, or a Pipe of wine, and should die and leave any thing behind, his heirs in their merry humours would say, That there was a great Fool indeed, he hath taken the pains to buy a deal of wine, and hath not drunk it up: We'll never do so. I see then, says Orontes to Carmelin, that you will still remember some passages of your story, which you passed by unmentioned. But where are our wits all this while, that we have made you and the rest speak, and have forgotten the Shepherd Lysis your Master, as if he were not of this assembly? He, who is one of the most consummate ingenuities of the world, will entertain us with nothing but miracles; and we have no need to importune the Shepherdess Charite to relate her story, since there can be but one between them both, and the adventures of the one depend on those of the other.  
While Orontes said this, Charite thought that they were minded to abuse her; and being of a simple Cockney-humour, she rise out of her place, where she was as 'twere on the rack, as being set near her Mistress, and ran home without any stop. Lysis would needs go after her; but Angelica told him, that for that time he must let the disdainful Gentlewoman take her course, and that when she came home she would chide her for it. Am I not the most miserable of all the Lovers that the Sun ever shone upon? replies Lysis: My Shepherhess, because she sees me going to relate my story, runs away: It is because she is afraid to understand my amorous torments, and will not be obliged to succour me by the prayers and persuasions of this honourable company, as if there were not Gods that saw and knew all, and would condemn her as guilty, though her crimes were hidden from men. But must the absence of Charite be a reason why we may not have your story? says Leonora. I have not the courage to tell you any thing, Madam, replies Lysis; but there is a remedy for that. There's Clarimond, who hath every where taken Notes of my actions past, and is resolved to make a Book of my Loves; let him tell you what he shall be able; I shall be very glad myself to see in what manner he hath set himself to work in it: Though I quarrelled with him erewhile, he must forget what is past. I shall not relate much, says Clarimond; for I have not my papers here, which I should want very much, because my memory is at this time very short and deceitful. Yet I shall endeavour to come as near as I can to what I have written.  
All being very attentive to what Clarimond should say: He began thus;  
UNder the happy Reign of the most invincible King of the Flowerdeluces, there flourished at Paris the Son of a Silkman, whose Virtue paralleled the Antiquity of his race, and whose Antiquity of race was far below his Riches.  
Let's have no more, I beseech you, says Lysis; if my History be made in that manner, it will not please me. When I hear that word of Flourishing, methinks 'tis the life of some Saint: That's the style of your Martyrologies; you do me a greater honour than I deserve. If you will have me make it better, replies Clarimond, give me what directions I must observe. My history must begin in the middle, (continued Lysis) that's the way of all your famous Romances: A man must enter by degrees into the body of the history, and not discover the design to the Reader till the very last. It seems than you would have your story composed like that of Polixena, says Clarimond. There are two or three have imitated that way, and they have done very handsomely. I should in the beginning have mentioned, that when Charite had understood by Lysis' Letters, the extreme affection he bore to her, her mind was charged with sundry maginations, or some such thing. After I had a while pursued the narration, I should bring my Shepherd to Anselme's, to whom he should relate his first adventures. That's your meaning, is it not? but for my part, I am not of that opinion. 'Tis a pretty impertinence, to bring in this man or that man, without telling the Reader who they were, or naming the Country where the things related were done. Were not this to disoblige an understanding man, who through this means should find our relations so confused, that he would make nothing of them. I know well enough, that he who first observed that method, made use of it in Chariclea; and having heard say, it was a fine thing to begin a Romance in the middle, hath done what he could to begin his his so; a way, which discovers less than any other the matter he was to treat; but see how well he hath imitated the Aethiopian History, which so many others have taken for their pattern; that says, That it began to dawn, when there met a sort of Robbers upon a mountain, near a certain mouth of the Nile; and so of the rest. Here you have the time, the persons, and the places set down; and Heliodorus would not speak to us like a mad man, relating things we should not at all understand; as if he should say, Chariclea knew not as yet whether Theagenes were dead or alive, when she fell among a company of robbers. That would have been a fine put-off; would it not have been thought, that this were the second Book, and that there must needs go somewhat before? But this Author is not so simple, and you see he names not those young people whom the robbers met with, because it would have been an impertinency to have done it, if at the same time he had not also related a good part of their life: so that to conclude, 'tis to be thought that there is certainly some grace to begin a Romance in the middle, but it must be done with such artifice, that that middle may seem to be the true beginning. It must be confessed that thou explainest this business as handsomely as may be, says Lysis; and since I see 'tis thy principal design to bestow all thy industry to adorn my history, I allow of thy opinions, but thou must promise me to reform what thou hast already done, and to make Heliodorus thy precedent, since thou art of his opinion, as to what concerns the order of the narration. For the present thou shalt say nothing of me, nor needs it, since there are few here but know my several Fortunes.  
All the presence was troubled, that Lysis had interrupted Clarimond, of whom they expected a pleasant relation; yet Hircan having sent for some kind of Banquet, it was thought fit to make a little cessation of discourse: but Lysis being entreated to eat, there came into his mind the late flight of Charite, and the command without command he had received from her a while before: That put him so much out of humour, that he of a sudden cried out, Must I enjoy myself among others, being so uncertain of the state of my affairs? Alas! no, this is the season for me to weep, and to live in solitude. Farewell then, dear Company, I must separate myself from you a little, that I may not disturb your enjoyments.  
Having said so, he went his way into the thicket, and would appear no more. No body ran after him, and he that had least maw to it was Carmelin, who was grown very dry with telling his story, and would gladly have drunk with the rest. Because he was there, they said no hurt of his Master, for they would give him no occasion to leave his service, and there was only Clarimond presumed to tell him, that his history was very remarkable, in that he ever had the happiness to live with Hypocondriakes, and that all his Masters had Chambers to let in their heads; but he was interrupted to make way for another discourse, that there might be no ill spoken of the absent.  
The Sun being near setting, they all retired: Those of Orontes' company went with him, and the rest with Hircan, who at his return found Lysis in his Castle, To live with Shepherds, such as these are (says Lysis the first word) I am well content, and will do it; but as for any enjoyments of myself with Knights and Ladies, it's a thing I must disclaim, while I continue unhappy as I am.  
A while after he supped with the rest, without any appearance of mirth or sadness, and his mind was employed in making divers observations on the histories he had heard related. All being rise from Table, Carmelin, who was a person of much curiosity, goes into Hircans study, which by chance he found open; and being come again in a maze. O the horrid cruelty (whispered he to his Master) that I have now seen! This Magician hath plucked off the heads of some of his enemies, and hath them in his study, to behold at his pleasure: Come along with me, and say nothing, I'll show it you. Lysis went softly with him to the place, and Carmelin having opened a Press, wherein the key had been left, showed his Master three or four great blue periwigs, which had each a long beard. Mad fellow! says Lysis, dost thou not see here is not any head at all; and that there's nothing but hair, where are the eyes, the nose and the ears? I cry you mercy, replies Carmelin, I had but a glance of it, and fear made me forget it presently. But hearest thou, says Lysis, here is somewhat that's strange; for methinks they are the same beards which the Gods of the Waters had last time we saw them. That which methinks is an ell and three quarters long, was the God Morin's. 'Tis the same and no other. I must know the secret of this business.  
Having so said, he and Carmelin went out of the study, and coming to Hircan; Ha! says he to him, what wonders have I seen, learned Magician. I have found in thy study the periwigs of the Aquatic Divinities; how camest thou by them? Hircan was here sursprised, for they were indeed the false periwigs which he and his companions had on, when they personated the Gods of the waters. It troubled him that he had been so careless as to leave his Press open; but he yet found a means to cheat Lysis, who himself gave him the occasion. Thou must know, gentle Shepherd▪ says he to him, that having restored thee to the form thou now hast, the Aquatic Gods with whom thou didst converse when thou wert a tree, have ever since boar me a grudge, for having deprived them of a conversation so pleasant as thine. so that by a treacherous plot they took me, and would have carried me into a river and drowned me: they had done it, had I not betaken me to my charms, by the means whereof I made them as immovable as rocks. Then thinking I could not any way be better revenged of them, then by making them deformed, because 'tis their greatest desire to be beloved of the Nymphs, I made them bald, as if their hair had fallen away, and having raised up the skin a little above the ear, I pulled so long, that I brought away all their hair and beards. I afterward let them go whither they pleased, to be the laughingstock to all the rural Divinities. Ah! Rascals, says Carmelin, how glad am I they are so served! they'll never frighten me no more with their blue horsehair beards. Peace thou, replies Lysis; 'tis not for us to speak ill of the Gods, we are not so powerful as Hircan, for to resist their revenge.  
Hircan after this, carried all the other Shepherds into his study, to see the divine beards; and they beheld them with a feigned admiration and astonishment. However, the Magician spoke thus to the company:  
I Have shown you this, lest it might have been too great grief to you, not to have seen it as well as Lysis and Carmelin, but had they not seen it by chance, never any other eyes but my own had beheld it; for profane persons must not so much as enter into this place: Wherefore I give you notice, that hence forward none presume to set foot into this place without my leave.  
This discourse ended, the Shepherds went out of the study; and Lysis talking of returning to his ordinary lodge, to look after his flock; they told him, his Landlord would have a care of them, and that he must accept the lodging that Hircan proffered him. 'Tis true indeed, says Philiris to him, that the sheep you yesterday kept, are troubled that they are deprived the conduct of so illustrious a Shepherd; and that as in the ancient Roman Republic, the earth brought forth better when manured by a Triumphant Labourer; so that poor beasts would extremely thrive, had they the perpetual conduct of a Sheephook guided by the hand of so rare a person as you are; but consider with yourself, that you have another flock to govern now. There is that of your amorous thoughts, which must be continually carried abroad to graze, nor must you carry them far from this place, which is more proper for them, than the place whither you intent to go, because you are here near Charite. O God how elegant art thou? says Lysis: I wish it had cost me some money, so that I had had that conceit. Why came it not into my mind as well as into thine, since it wholly concerns me? I shall be troubled at it as long as I live. To remedy my misfortune, Gentle Philiris, I pray thee bestow on me that rare and incomparable conceit. It's a very common one, replies Philiris, yet if you desire it, it is at your service, and all those I shall have this month. I humbly thank thee for thy good will, says Lysis; but now I think on't, 'twere not handsome at the present I should pretend to that conceit, for that were to be done secretly. Here are so many that hear us, that when I should make account I were Master of some thing, and had made a fair purchase, I should be amazed to find I had nothing at all; and that it would be reported, that all the ware in my shop were thine. What do you mean by all this? says Fontenay, are you of those people that Traffic in Conceits? Have there been any to be sold this year at St. Germane Fair? I tell thee once more, that that is not publicly sold, replies Lysis; yet know, there is a trading in them all manner of ways: They are bought, they are lent, and they are bartered; and I may say, there is such a one, who having occasion for some in a business of some haste, as it may be for some Ball, that were to be danced the next day, would be glad to take up, upon great interest, though they were found on the Exchange. I know no reason, why the Scriveners cannot give us directions where to find any, it would be no mean gain to them. I am of opinion, that sometimes they may be also stolen, says Clarimond; and a certain author having had one taken away from him, as he passed in the night over the Newbridge with his bag of Conceits under his arm; all his friends went one after another to comfort him in his affliction. For my part, I must tell you, that when any such accident happens to me, I shall not need any of the Gapuchin fathers to keep me from despair: I am so liberal of this merchandise of conceits, that I bestow them on all the world: yet I modestly hit them in the teeth that have committed the theft. As for example, a certain Poet having stolen an Humour out of my Banquet of the Gods, whereof a many Copies have been scattered abroad, I could not, when I saw his Verses, but say, that it was like somewhat in my Book. 'Twas answered, that however it were, the Poet says on his credit he hath stolen nothing from you. He hath not indeed, said I, he hath not stolen it; for take but the pains to look into the Banquet of the Gods, and you will find it there yet.  
That's hugely good, that's hugely subtle, cries out Hircan; what a natural rencontre it was! let me die if I ever heard the like, and if it be not beyond all Erasmus's Apothegms! The wittiness of this reply proceeds from this, that commonly things which are not stolen, are still in their places: But contrary to the general maxim, if this conceit be in its right place, it's a sign it was stolen. One might say this were very strange: But certainly a man that speaks of the loss of a conceit, by another handsome conceit, is never to be pitied, for he invites the thiefs to come and steal from him again. I confess Clarimond spoke there unhappily enough, says Lysis; nor am I so unjust as not to believe he hath a good wit when he pleases, and that 'tis his own fault if he quit not those errors that possess him. All this is good, says Philiris: but give me also leave to speak to this point concerning the Thiefs of Conceits. I was a while since in a company, where one who pretended to be an able Poet, told me that he endeavoured to be master of two things which seldom met together, Youth and Continence. I thereupon calling to mind that I had seen that conceit in a certain Author of the time, which I will call Sallust, I answered him, Pardon me, Sir, those two things are in Sallust as well as you. You see well, I would have rather said that the same Conceit was in that other Author, than either Continence or Youth. That was very covertly and subtly spoken, says Lysis; I should never be weary to hear such excellent things. You must therefore stay here, says Hircan, if you would enjoy the pleasant conversation of those that are here. Are you now not fully persuaded, Shepherd? says Philiris: there is now no going hence, for it is too late: Night, who is now in her turn to come into her Empire, hath brought with her an Army of thick Clouds, who have defeated the Light: The great Winds which now blow, seem to be in the pursuit: The God of Sleep with his Regiment of Dreams brings up the Rear; and though it be armed with nothing but Poppies, yet doth it hope to overcome all the World. What excellent imaginations are these! says Lysis; I am charmed with them, I confess it; it shall be in this house that I will be overcome by sleep. After he had so said, they assigned him a bed by himself, and to Carmelin also, so that they slept at their ease.  
They were no sooner awake the next morning, but they were acquainted that Orontes had sent to invite them to dinner with the rest of the Pastoral assembly; and there came into their chamber a Lackey that did the message. Lysis knew not whether he should promise, or deny to go, because he thought it not so convenient to mind his enjoyments while Charite continued cruel towards him: But considering on the other side, that to obtain her favour he must present himself to her, he would not neglect the occasion to go to the house where she lived, as also that he was loath to procure the ill will of his Fellow-shepherds in case he forsook their company. He therefore promised the Lackey that he would dine at Orontes'; and presently after Hircan and the Shepherds came and filled up his chamber, discoursing with him about several things for to make themselves sport. There was only Meliantes that seemed to be sad: He was gotten into a corner, where he fetched such deep sighs, that they seemed to hear the bellows of a Forge. Carmelin who was of a very pitiful nature, was the first took notice of it, and spoke thus to him: Do not refuse to tell me what thou ailest, brave Shepherd! Is it some stitch in the side, or the toothache that makes thee groan; or is there some kinsman or friend dead? If thou wilt tell me the cause of thy griefs, thou mayst assure thyself thou hast met with a man, who as to what concerns the succouring of the afflicted, is as good as four. 'Tis very certain thou canst assist me much, Compassionate and generous Carmelin! answers Meliantes: And therefore I must not conceal from thee, that it is thy Master who is the cause of my grief. Alas! Master, come hither, cries out Carmelin, will you suffer a poor miserable man that implores your assistance to languish? Lysis hearing his voice, turned towards him; and seeing that Meliantes did nothing but sigh. Come hither, says he to him, what ails thee Shepherd, that thou art not merry as well as the rest? Alas! how will you have a wretch as I am, of whom there is no regard had, to be merry? replies Meliuntes. Others find assistance from you, but I cannot, though I need it so much to bring my Mistress out of captivity. I am forgotten, and there hath been no speech of assisting me, ever since the relation of my History.  
We are certainly to blame, says Hircan; and you Lysis are not the least guilty: For having heard that the French Shepherd must deliver Pamphilia out of the enchanted prison, you should have enquired whether it were not meant of you. But I now assure you, that it is not to be thought of any Shepherd but yourself: For by naming only the French Shepherd, as it were by way of excellence, 'tis not to be questioned but that it is meant of the most illustrious Shepherd in that Country. But though that were not apparent as it is, yet by my deep knowledge I should certainly know it to be you, Lysis, who by your incomparable force must restore to Meliantes his Pamphilia. You will do that which the most invincible Knights could not do, and your Arms should bring down the pride of Monsters and Devils.  
I have ever given you equal credit with the oracle of some God, sacred Magician, replied Lysis; and yet at present I am to confess to you that I am in some doubt whether you speak the truth or no: For what appearance is there that I should do any great exploits in matter of Arms, and that I should take in a Fortress garrisoned with Monsters and Spirits? What likelihood is there, I say, that I should do these things, who know better what it is to conduct Sheep then Soldiers, and who never intent to fight against any man, unless it be for to sing the best and most amorous Songs, or who shall give the sweetest kisses?  
Let incredulity be convinced, (says Hircan with the gesture of a man furious and out of himself) there will come the day that the Dove shall be covered with the feathers of an Eagle, and shall destroy the Falcons: The Countryman's Coat shall be turned into a Corslet; the string whereby the Scrip hangs, into a Belt; and the Sheephook into a Half-pike. Let those that are wise credit things so true: And especially let Meliantes give over sighing; for it will be for his sake that these miracles shall be done.  
Every one admired the prophecy of the Magician, and Lysis among others was much troubled to find out the true interpretation of it. He desired it of Hircan; but he told him, it was not yet time he should know it, and that in the mean while he might enjoy himself without thinking on it. All the Shepherds invited him, thereupon, not to trouble his mind with any disquiet imaginations; and he seeing that Meliantes was no longer sad, he thought he should not be so neither, finding withal in himself some great presages of a future prosperity. Carmelin musing on what had passed, imagined, that since his Master was designed for to deliver out of prison Meliantes' Mistress, he must make great journeys, and that haply he would carry him with him, whereto he knew not whether he should consent or no: And upon this incertainty of what was to come, he had many pretty imaginations concerning the life he should lead in those remote Countries; so that he could not withhold saying to Lysis, My master, do me one favour; Tell me, I pray, when Meliantes is returned into his Country, whether he will continue a Shepherd, and whether you would do so too, in case you went thither with him. There's no question but we should, replies Lysis. But that is not all, replies Carmelin; would you also keep the Sheep of that Country? They have, it may be, other customs than those of France; and then I believe they bleat in a strange language, which you would not understand.  
Every one laughed at Carmelins' conceit: but his Master remonstrated to him, that the language of dumb Creatures was not more understood in one Country than another; and that it was not given to any to understand it at all, except some Magicians, whereof there was no great number. 'Twas a doubt whether Carmelin had put this question out of knavery, or simplicity: 'Twas a thing could not be discovered, because of the inequality of his Naturals, which sometimes passed from subtlety to childishness. He had not continued much his discourse, which was like that before, but it being dinnertime, Hircan and his company went their way cheerfully to Orontes', taking along with them the Shepherdess Amaryllis and the Maid Lysetta.  
The End of the Eighth Book.   

THE Anti-Romance; OR, THE HISTORY Of the SHEPHERD LYSIS.  
The Ninth Book.  
ORontes desirous to make a solemn feast for the most pleasant Shepherds that ever were in Brie, had prepared a long table, upon one of the beds of his garden, that the entertainment might be the more Pastoral. There was a general astonishment to see him and some of his house clad like Shepherds: 'Twas such a satisfaction to Lysis, that he went and embraced them all with extreme joy. But he was quite transported, when he saw Florida, Leonora and Angelica appear in white, clad like Shepherdesses: He told them, that he never feared to be miserable, now that he had seen such exquisite persons choose that kind of life which he had chosen himself: Yet could he not but break off his Compliment, for to ask where Charite was. We must not conceal the truth from you, says Angelica; your Charite was so proud, that she would change neither condition nor habit for all the entreaty we could make. Our persuasions she took no otherwise then importunities, till she at last brought the business to a quarrel; so that she swore she would not come with us one way nor other.  
Lysis firmly believed this, though it were only an abuse; for that Charite appeared not, 'twas that being but a servant, she sat not at table with her Mistress. Must this company then be imperfect? cried out the amorous Shepherd, will Charite never quit this severe humour which makes her ever keep at a distance from other people?  
Angelica perceiving that Lysis began to be troubled, sent for Charite, but she would by no means appear; and Lisetta, who was sent for her, stayed with her. This however hindered not, but that they were about sitting down, when there comes in two unknown Shepherds: They were two Gentlemen of Orontes' acquaintance, disguised, who having asked for Lysis, were showed him they looked for. They very courteously saluted him; and the more ancient of the two spoke thus to him:  
ILlustrious Shspherd, We are sent to you on the behalf of a many persons of quality, who having seen the Letter and Bill that you sent to Paris, are extremely desirous to come to you, for to learn that admirable art of being happy. There are above two hundred, both young men and maids upon resolution to come hither, and put on Shepherd's habit. As for our parts, we have already taken it, that we might not appear before you in a habit disbecoming our Ambassage. The charge and Instructions laid on us, is to present you with the service of our Companions; and to assure you, that they will wait on you assoon as they shall be assured of a reception from you, upon such▪ terms as they shall deserve. They would have already been here themselves, but that considering there was much abuse in the world, it might haply be some Impostures had put up the Bill, and not you.  
Lysis being overjoyed at this Legation; made this Answer to the Ambassadors:  
GGentle Shepherds, I cannot disapprove the intentions of our brave Parisian Shepherds, they have done well to send you hither, to see if it were true that there was a Shepherd Lysis, who had undertaken to restore the world to its former felicity. You shall see what I know; and since you are come so seasonably into this good company, you shall taste of our pleasures, that you may give your Companions a faithful account of what you find.  
The Shepherd having said this, every one fell a questioning the Ambassadors: one asked them the names of the most famous Shepherds of Paris; another asked, how they found out Lysis, since he had not lain at Bertrands the night before. They answered all the best they could; while in the mean time Anselm and Montenor came in. We only stayed for you, says Lysis to them, but you come not so clad as to please me: Will you be like that Clarimond? who is so obstinate in what he believes, that he would think it a dishonour to be clad like a Shepherd? Anselm and Montenor perceiving that Orontes and divers others were clothed like Shepherds, were sorry they were not so too, that it might not be thought they should have made any disparity in the Assembly: Yet they were more inquisitive after the news of the Ambassage which Lysis had received, then how to excuse themselves; when in the mean time one of these Parisans, who would be called Silvian, hearing Clarimond divers times named, asked him before all that were present; Are you that Clarimond, whom I have heard so much spoken of in the City, and that hath made a little book called the Banquet of the Gods, which is scattered up and down in writing? I am without doubt the Author of that Book, replies Clarimond; I will not disown what I have done. Then I have a deal of news to tell you, continued Silvian: Know then, that The Banquet of the Gods, and some other pieces of yours, which tax some Authors, hath raised you so many enemies, that I did not think to find you alive. One threatens to beat you, another to stab you; there are some almost resolved to sell their best cloak, for money to give some Assassins'; and as for those that have relation to the Court, they assure themselves on the authority of their Masters, and believe that by their means they shall absolutely ruin you.  
Clarimond neither knew Silvian, nor his companion Menelas, who swore, that all the other had said was true. He knew not whether he should believe them; but whatever were in it, there being nothing in all this could move him; he made this cold answer: You are come a great way to tell me things which I knew before: I never questioned, but what I had said would procure me the hatred of those against whom I have spoken. A man need not be very cunning to guests at that; and you are to know, that there's nothing happened to me, which I desired not. It's better to be hated of fools and impertinent people, then to be loved by them; for to comply with them, a man must be like them, a thing I shall shun as much as I can possible. And as for their menaces, they trouble me not, for I do not think myself less powerful than they; and suppose the worst, though their hatred were mortal, I know a way to appease them; 'tis but to dine them once, or give them a glass of good wine, and they are my intimate friends. These are your mercenary Clerks, the pillars of Taverns, Parasites, and infamous Sycophants, who are for him that gives them most. I would fain speak with one of the Crew, before some such brave people as are here, you should see how I would confound them. But tell me I pray, Have they no desire to turn Shepherds at the entreaty of Lysis? They have read his Letter very seriously, replied Silvian, but they said it was your style; and laughing at your invention, would not believe there were any Shepherd Lysis in the world. How am I slighted by those that should respect me? interrupts Lysis; what do the Poets and Romancists, whose qualities I have studied to advance, do they, I say neglect me? where could they have found a greater support than I? with whom have they obtained more credit? Ha! I renounce the protection of their persons, though I continue it towards their doctrines; and since Clarimond is resolved to dispute with them, I freely permit him. I would they were already met, that we might have the pleasure of their controversies. Be not angry, I pray, says Orontes to Lysis, see here my servants have brought in the meat, that will be cold, while you enter into a heat.  
Having so said, he made all wash, and assigned every man his place, according to the quality he pretended to, not forgetting the Signior Carmelin. Lysis desirous to gain a good opinion with Silvian and Menelas, and to make them believe the life he led was very pleasant, had quitted much of what troubled him, and thought by that means to win them, that so they might say nothing to their companions, that were disadvantageous to him. He was not one of the last to set upon Clarimond concerning the menaces of the Writers of the Time: and Clarimond seeing every one made it his business to bait him about it; made this reply, I must needs confess I have not gotten much from our Poetling, by telling them of their Fopperies; for they are so obstinate, that it is impossible for a man to make them see the truth; and I have done nothing else but provoke a sort of fools, with whom there is no glory to contest. However, my labour is not lost, since I have in their tongues found that perpetual motion, which many Philosophers have so much sought after, and have discovered, that in their brain might be found that emptiness, which was thought impossible in nature. Besides, I have obliged a many honest people, who are glad I have helped them out of the errors whereinto these Idiots endeavoured to bring them. As for the fear they think to have put me in, by telling I have to do with those that have less to lose then myself, and affront all those they hate; I answer you, it is impossible for them to do me any hurt that way: for though they should catch me, I do not think it would be any more prejudice to my reputation, then if one of the mad people that walk up and down in Paris, should quarrel with me; and as for their railing, I make as much account of it as the braying of an Ass.  
Clarimond would have spoken many other things to the contempt of his enemies; but Orontes interrupted him, saying, There must be no more quarrelling, since it hindered the tranquillity of their Pastoral life.  
The company on that, began to give itself over to mirth; and Lysis being in a deep consideration of the variety of the meat, said to Orontes, I think, O magnificent Shepherd, that thou desirest to satisfy our eyes, as well as our bellies: The greatest part of the fowl I see on the table, are methinks alive still; I think they are readier to eat, then to be eaten. As for those which are in sauces, or in broths, methinks they swim there, as they did in the ponds before; and as for the rest, which are otherwise disposed, I find them so lively, that it's to be feared they'll fly off the table. To hinder this from flying away, says Orontes, cutting up one, there's a wing, which I pluck off and present to you. Lysis accepted it, but having observed what pleased him better on another part of the Table, which he could not reach, I am somewhat skilled, says he very confidently, in the flight of Birds; I have learned the Profession of the Roman Augurs. All these common soul that are before me, are unfortunate; but if those I see there at some distance could pass this way, I should make some good presage for my affairs. The presage will be worth nothing if they are made to fly towards you, replies Clarimond, for it must be chance, and not of set purpose. It matters not for that, says Orontes, let the Soothsayer do as he please; and with these words he sent Lysis some of the choicest, wondering at the invention he had used to bring it about: but the amorous Shepherd showed himself so civil, that he refused it, saying he had asked in jest, and to try how they would answer him; and besides that, he was not so ill bred, as to show himself a glutton in so honourable an Assembly, he, whose principal nourishment were amorous imaginations.  
After this, he freely fed on all, and in the mean time Orontes urged the Shepherds to drink one to another: Shall we not drink to our Mistresses? says Philiris; shall we not take so many glasses as there are letters in their names? I never fail drinking to Charite's, though I say nothing, replied Lysis; thy invention is not new to me. I have already drunk thrice to the three first Letters of the fairest word that can be pronounced. No body hath seen it, replies Philiris; 'twas secretly done: Begin▪ the game again. Thou dost not understand the subtlety of it, says Lysis, Knowing that if I began again, I should commit a great fault, because the glasses I have already drunk, should be counted, and being added to those I should drink with thee, would amount to a greater number than the letters of the name of Charite: So that I should transgress the vow I long since made to do all things in the number of seven.  
So the Shepherd Lysis made it appear, that nothing could make him quit his former designs; so that the rest making a party by themselves, suffered him to do what he pleased. As for Carmelin, every one drank to him, and he was of so good an humour, that he swore he would make all those liars, who said he had no reason, and that he would do it to all the world. He had plied it so well, that when he was risen from the table, he staggered at every step; and I assure you there were others that were not much behind him, whether they were drunk indeed, or that they feigned it. Lysis began to laugh, having a long time observed how they stammered, and justled one another. These are good youths, says he, they are not content to be possessed with two furies, that is to say, that of Poetry and Venus; but having read there was a third, which is that of Bacchus, they would needs be possessed of that too. I shall not think it much amiss, so that they commit not over great insolences. Bacchus is an amiable, and a pleasant God, and requires our devotions at least once a month, when a man hath his friends about him. I shall by no means forbid any man to converse with him, since I find that the ancient Poetry is as full of good-fellowship as loves; and that I know by experience, that there are some Poets who can never compose any thing, but when they are drunk. Gentle Shepherds, weep now for having drunk too much, to morrow you will weep for your loves, that your lives may be diversified.  
Lysis spoke this out of his ordinary judgement; for though he had taken his seven cups, he had not drunk much at a time, as being of those that are not much given to wine. Clarimond was not well pleased to see him so reserved and temperate; for he would gladly have known what extravagancy he would have committed, if there had been a mixture of drunkenness with his Extravagance. As for Carmelin, he had eaten and drunk so much, that he went a little aside and returned it; which his Master perceiving: Ah! villain, says he to him, must thou offend such a presence with thy beastliness? I allow thee to be merry and to drink, but I would not have thee forget the quality of a man and a Shepherd, and participate in brutality with the beasts.  
Orontes, who heard this discourse, came and said to Lysis, You are to blame to find fault with such an honest man: Consider, if that which he casts out be a thing so foul, that it is a loathing to you to see it, he hath reason to disburden himself of it, for how do you think he could suffer it on his stomach? What thou sayst salves the matter well for the present, replied Lysis: but why had he before so little discretion as to swallow down what should hurt him? I will allow him to be drunk so far as to be frolic, but not to be stupid. I am not drunk, my sweet master, says Carmelin; 'twas only my drinking out of a great glass, that hath made me so sick at the heart, that I was fain to vomit as you see. This discourse was interrupted by three or four hickocks, which brought out with them wine and broth, which a dog of Orontes did assoon lick up, lifting up his nose every foot to see if there were any more.  
Lysis approved the specious reasons of his faithful Carmelin, and so returned to the rest of the company to know what they were resolved to do. They had notice of a Wedding hard by, so that they resolved to go thither to pass away the time. At the end of Orontes' house there was a Hamlet of five or six houses, in one whereof there was a Country-Lass that married a Husbandman of the next village. They had brought from Coulommiers the great Musick-Company, which consisted of a Base, a Tenor, and a Kit which served instead of a Violin. The guests having already dined, had paid their Reckoning, and made their Presents according to the custom: whereupon the Music began to cheer up the Company, and there was not any so wretched Lobcock but took his Sweetheart into the dance. Our courteous Shepherds being come thither, would not stand out; but rushing in among the Countrypeople, they danced together, where every one showed what he could do, though there were some whose paces were very circumflexe, and whose capers were not above half an inch from the ground. The Peasants seeing so many Gentlemen of quality in such ridiculous postures, and in such extraordinary habits as they had on, thought they did it out of some design to abuse them, so that they were not well pleased at it.  
When Orontes was weary of dancing, and the rest too, he would needs have them to some of your childish sports. Shall we go to Blind Cupid? says Lysis to the company; it is a very Pastoral sport; it's used by Amaryllis and her companions in the Faithful Shepherd, and methinks 'tis much like that which all the Children know, which they call Blind-man-buff. But to be more ingenious yet, I should desire we might not fix on any sport, but that which Sir Philip Sidney makes the Shepherds of Aacadia recreate themselves with, in that long Proem which is as I take it in the first Tome of his incomparable Work; but it is so subtle, that nobody can make any thing of it.  
Every one gave his voice for Blind Cupid; and being retired a little distance from the place where the Wedding was, there was none but voted Carmelin to be the Cupid. They blinded him with a foul napkin; and every one being gone out of his way, Lysis taught the rest the words of the game. But instead of courteous treating the poor Cupid, they pelted him with clods of earth, which fell on him of all sides so unmercifully, that he was forced to unblind himself and run away, swearing that as long as he lived he would never meddle with such a sport. Having taken sanctuary among the Countrypeople, he thought better to be merry with them; and having perceived Lisetta, whose fair eye had deeply wounded him, he would needs dance a Coranto with her. The Gentlemen-Shepherds returned within a while to make up their sport with him: They saw that Carmelin was not any thing sick, and that he danced it so well, as would have bred a mortal jealousy in the most illustrious Dancers of all the villages thereabouts. Leonora's Kitchenmaid chanced also to be in the place; and Lysis having spoken to her, made account to know of her a many particulars concerning his Mistress. It came into his mind, that when he was let blood, it had seemed to him and Clarimond too, that there might be seen in his blood the Figure of Charite. He would have gladly known, if in like manner there was not seen his Figure in hers, or whether there appeared the countenance of some other Lover. He thought that by that means he might discover whether he were beloved or no. He therefore put the question to the Maid, thinking she had been present when Charite was let blood three or four days before. She told him he was an idle jeering Companion; that she understood nothing of his fine talk; and that for his full satisfaction, she could only tell him, that no body employed himself so vainly as to observe Charite's blood, and that it was cast into a sink the very day it was let. Ah! what imprudence was that, and what impudence both together! cried out the Shepherd: Ought not so precious a thing to be preserved? What would you have had done with it, replies the maid, would you have had puddings made of it? Do not scoff, fair one! replies Lysis: It troubles me that Carmelin did cast away my blood, for it was as worthy to be preserved, since it bore the image of my Mistress. You may tell us of this another time, says the Maid, but for what is done there is no remedy.  
While this discourse passed between the Shepherd and the Maid, Carmelin was not satisfied to have drawn Lisetta once into the dance, but he must have her twice more: And there coming afterward a young Country-fellow to take her in, he thrust him back, and disdainfully told him that she was not meat for his birds. This Clown perceiving himself wounded in his honour, gave Carmelin a good blow on the breast, and was ready to second it, when Lysis coming between them cried out, Hold, hold, my Lads! will you have this Wedding so full of butchery as that of Andromedes, wherein Perseus transformed the rash Phineas into a stone, after he had killed all his companions? Would you renew the marriage of Hippodamia, where the Centaurs fought against the Lapithae? I here interpose my Authority; give over these outrages, I pray.  
Notwithstanding these words, all the Clowns came about Carmelin, ready to revenge their companion. But Lysis raising his voice, continued thus: Vile rout! infamous Clowns! dare you commit these impudences before me who am the greatest Shepherd in the world, and before Hircan who is the most knowing Magician of this age? Do you not fear our displeasure? The Countrypeople of Lycia, for having offended Latona, were turned into Frogs. Learn to be modest by the example of your Predecessors; for we could as easily metamorphose you into poisonous toads, or into hissing serpents.  
While he thus cried out, Orontes went and roughly thrust back the Clowns, and made them retire. Yet did they not give over their design to be revenged, when they could, of Carmelin and his master, who had done them such injury. The tumult being in appearance appeased, the Music, who were fled lest in the charge their Instruments might have been broken, came back and cheered up the company with the merry Jigs of Poicton. See now the disorder is over, says Lysis, I am glad of it, for it might have been of ill example, and a very unlucky presage for the married couple. This music cheers me up; 'tis to be conceived they are sent for to weddings, to put us in mind that the husband and wife ought to live in perpetual concord, and observe such a harmony as that of musical Instruments. They are also to acquaint the guests that they should live in good intelligence one with another, at least for that day, to the credit of those that have invited them.  
This discourse ended, Lysis willed his company to leave the Clowns dance, and not meddle with them any more. And having called Silvian and Menelas to him, he thus spoke to them. You are so discreet, my Lords, that I cannot believe you will leave us with any dissatisfaction: An ignorant man would doubt it, that should have seen the late tumult; nay there are those that would think, that after a thing so strange and blameworthy, you would acquaint your Compatriots that I cause not such order to be observed in this Country as I boasted I would. But I assure myself that you well consider that our Government is not yet fully established; and that having not men enough under me, I am not able to drive away the seditious. Besides you are to observe, that those who are guilty of the disorder, are not famous Shepherds as you and I; they are infamous Churls, that understand nothing of honesty or honour, and never read any book. To the end that no man be henceforth deceived in them, and that seeing them with sheep might think they were of us, I ordain they shall not be called by the same name as we, but they shall be called Feeders, whereas we'll be called Shepherds or Pastors: Carmelin himself shall be of their degree, till he have made it appear by some signal action that he deserves to be of ours.  
You have taken very good order, replies Silvian; and yet▪ without all this, I assure you we should still believe we had not found any thing that might prejudice your reputation. However you would much oblige us, if you would briefly tell us what the principal things are which you would do to restore the Golden age. We are not here in a Hall fit to give audience to Ambassadors, replies Lysis: But yet I shall make no scruple to give you satisfaction, because it is a pleasure to me to show how free I am, and how little I have of the pomp of Kings. You are then to know, that though from the Golden age men passed into the Silver one, thence to the Brazen one, and so to that of Iron, yet I will bring you back to the former without these degrees; nay, you shall not be troubled with the Silver age to go into the Golden one, that is to say, it shall cost you nothing. As concerning Divine Worship, which is the first considerable, you are to know that we will honour all the Divinities which the Ancients did adore: But besides that, as I make it my profession to add to ancient things in case they be not complete, I will bring into reputation some modern Divinities; as for example, my will is there should be a God of Romances, a thing never entered the imagination of any Poet, though they create Gods at their pleasure. This God shall have his Temple in some Grot, where in honour of him shall be sung every day choice hymns, and all the bad Romances shall be burnt on his Altar in sacrifice, whereas the good ones shall be preserved in the sanctuary. This first year I will be the Priest of the place, and will also take the title of Prince of the French Shepherds, as being honoured and obeyed by all. But that all may pretend to sovereignty, and that there may be a sharing of honours, to prevent a Monarchical government, all the other Shepherds shall be Priests and Princes from year to year in their turns. That's an excellent proposition indeed (says Clarimond, who heard all this discourse) but if you pursue it, I fear me you will be declared a Rebel by the King, who will not suffer you to quit your subjection, and establish a Republic within his Kingdom. You had better do as Ronsard did, who in a Poem of his dedicated to Muretus, invites him and a legion of other Poets, whom he names, to leave France which was troubled with civil wars, and to go for the Fortunate Islands, there merrily to spend the remainder of their lives: 'Tis one of the best fancies he ever had. I grant it, replies Lysis, but yet I have no mind to plant Colonies in remote Countries, where I know not whether I should safely arrive, besides that it is only for Theutons and Cimbrians to seek out any other habitations than those of their fathers. The King will not prosecute us as Traitors, for we will deprive him of nothing of his rights, and our power shall reach no further than ourselves. Your meaning is, that your government will be like that of a King at Twelf-tide, or among Schoolboys, says Clarimond; if it be so, I believe you may be tolerated in France. Thou mightst have used fitter comparisons, says Lysis: but since there were never any end, if a man should teach thee all thou art ignorant of, I return to my former discourse to satisfy my Lords the Ambassadors. They are further to know, that besides the care I shall take of divers sacrifices, and of a many other things. I will establish a Poetical and Amorous University, as I have already designed. Upon certain solemn days there shall be Love-questions proposed, much like those I sometime saw at Paris. Some Scholars shall maintain them, others shall dispute against them, both for the exercise of their parts, and that truth may issue out of these altercations, as a spark of fire from the collision of two flints.  
As for example, there shall be those that shall in the first place maintain, that, Absence bring more satisfaction to Lovers then presence.  
Secondly, That it is better to see a Wench that one loves dead, if one be reciprocally loved by her, then to see her married to another, and not be loved by her.  
Thirdly, That the affection is greater after enjoyment then before it.  
In the fourth place, That, it is better for one to enjoy his Shepherdess twice a week, with all the torments and disquiets in the world, then to enjoy her fifteen days together in one year, with all freedom, and not under go any hardship to have her.  
In the fifth place, That the remembrance of any thing that is good, is a greater pleasure than the good self.  
In the sixth place, That it were better for one never to enjoy his Mistress, then to do it on an infallible condition, that another should have the enjoyment of her also, though he were your dearest friend.  
And in the seventh place, That the jealousy of a Lover, who never knew any enjoyment, is stronger and more violent than that of a husband who enjoys every day.  
A man may advance a many other as subtle propositions, and by such disputations shall every one be fully instructed. On the days when this diversion is not to be had, the time shall be spent in singing, making of verses, dancing, and divers other Pastoral sports. This indeed is a very pleasant, and much desirable way of life, says Menelas, but since we shall have no offices or professions among us, it is most certain we shall get nothing; and if so, I know not how the family shall be maintained, and the taxes paid. Our condition is noble and free, and consequently exempted from all impositions, replies Lysis; trouble not yourself as to that; As for matter of livelihood, we shall want nothing: There is no bird so inconsiderable, but finds his dinner, though he have neither store-house nor fee-farm rend; heaven provides for all the creatures in the world. 'Tis very certain, you cannot want your entertainment, since you can restore the golden age, says Clarimond. In that first age of the world, all the rivers were not milk, and all the trees bore not fruit of Lotos', as many fools have imagined. Nature brought forth nothing but what it does now, and that not so abundantly then, because nothing was advanced by cultivation, but men were content with what they could find; and to make a true relation of the felicity of that time, it must be confessed, that men fed on Acorns, as well as the swine; and drank out of the river, as all other creatures did. They had no coverture but their skin, or haply some garment of leaves: The earth was their Table and their Bed, the grass their Carpet, the bushes their Curtains, and the caves their retreats: And thus it is most certain the first men lived; so unreasonable a thing it is to conceive they lived in a golden Age, since gold was not yet discovered. Let it be considered, whether their life was not rather brutish then humane, and if they are not mad men which grieve for it, and that despise ours, whereof the ornament and civility cannot be over commended. You have much reason to believe you will easily find your livelihood, if you regulate yourself to that ancient manner of life; for indeed, Lysis, you shall not be denied such a nourishment as we allow beasts; but what you do, is, as if the Lawmakers were not yet come into the world, to make men leave the forests and rocks, and to persuade them to live in community in Cities. I believe there will be very few shall envy you; for my part, I shall only bemoan you, to see you become savage: for if you will needs restore your golden age, you must go naked as an American, and at the best be no better housed, then with a few turfs, as your beggars on the highway, who sell wands to Travellers. I do not believe the ancients entertained themselves as thou sayest, replied Lysis; but though it were so, know, that I will imitate only what is good in their life. I intent also, to join to it the happiness of this last age, wherein all the curiosities in the world have been invented. It shall suffice me to live in the innocency and freedom of the first age, and it may be thou wilt be of my opinion, when thou shalt have tasted the pleasures which I have imagined; we shall not envy any, nor be envied by any. Of all the passions, there is only Love shall possess us: And if sometimes we shall be guilty of any hatred, we shall exercise it only against the wolves, which are in hostility against our Shepherdry. What pleasure will it be to love Shepherdesses, whose affection will be mutual, and will freely discover itself, when respect shall not cause reservedness, and breed in their minds what shall torment them! We shall find, that those fair ones will be neither Cockneys nor Courtesans, and that the unfaithfulness of Lovers will not teach them to carry two hearts in one breast. As concerning divine worship, and the sciences which we shall study, I have spoken to that point already; but as for our ordinary recreations, I have fancied to myself most excellent ones. Those of better quality among us shall act a Comedy every day: The subject shall be taken out of some piece of ancient Poetry; and the parts being assigned to those who already know the story by heart, they shall only be told the cast of the Scenes, and then they must compose, as it were on a sudden, what they have to say. Besides, I have found out an incomparable kind of stage. I have seen your Players at Burgundy-house, I have seen some plays in the Colleges, but all was but fiction: There was a sky of Canvas, a rock of Parport, and in all things the painting cheated our eyes; but I will have it far otherwise: our plays shall be acted in the open field, and our stage shall be the great Theatre of nature; we'll have no heaven but the true heaven; if a Shepherd be to issue out of a Thicket, he shall do it out of a true thicket; if he must drink at a spring, he shall drink at one indeed: and so all things being naturally represented, men will believe they see the true history; so that the actors being thereby animated themselves, will put on the passions of those parts which are assiged them, and the spectators be as much pleased as astonished at it. And all this I do not any thing doubt of; when I consider, that when ever I was at any play at Paris, though they were not so natural and lively as ours will be, yet have I ever been so transported by them, that I have imagined it was no fiction. Nay, since you make us such excellent propositions, I am much in doubt whether I should fully credit you, says Clarimond: But as for your plays, I approve them beyond any thing I ever heard. For to make them complete, I will contribute somewhat of my invention. You know there are some Actors who never put off the parts they once take: As for example, one is the Doctor, another the Captain, and another the Fool. All the design is carried on accordingly, their parts change not, there is only a change in the story. I do not intend we should do so; it must necessarily be expected that our qualities and habits change, if we will represent all sorts of ancient fables: but as for our manner of speech, it shall not change at all. Every one shall have a certain language, whereto he shall so accustom himself, that it will be easy for him to find what he is to say; as for example, one shall speak by Allusions and Equivocations, another by Hyperboles, a third by Metaphors, and a fourth by Galimathias.  
All that heard Clarimond's proposition found it very excellent, except Lysis, who at the first could not digest it. But Hircan forced him to do as the rest did, so that every one had the liberty to choose his speech. Fontenay chose the Allusions and Equivocations; Polydore, the Hyperboles; Meliantes, the Metaphors; and Clarimond, the Galamathias, which is a stile composed of shifts and windings of words, which render the sense so obscure, that it can hardly be known what to make of it. As for Lysis, he said he would speak a neat and polished phrase, which he called the amorous and passionate stile. There was proposed also the Pedantic stile, Paris-Expressions, Proverbs, Similitudes, and the Poetical stile, and some others which they resolved to make use of when there were need. The Shepherdesses came not into the number of the Actors who appeared on the Stage, because Clarimond had resolved there should nothing be done but what were grotesque, wherein it was not fit the Ladies should be engaged. As for Lysis, he thought it well they were excluded, for he was glad to see men acting women's parts, as being a thing that seemed to him more comical.  
All the question now was, What piece should be first acted for trial. Some proposed that of the Ravishing of Proserpina, and that of Psyche; and others the Descent of Orpheus into hell, the Loves of Pyramus and Thisbe, the Conquest of the Golden Fleece, and the Deflowering of Philomela. At last Hircan said, that the next day they would represent the ravishing of Proserpina by Pluto, which was an ordinary piece, and as being often seen acted would be very easy. It was resolved Polidor should act Venus; that the fair Fontenay, who had been used to be clad like a Maid, should be the fair Proserpina; that Lysis should be Cyana; Clarimond, Arethusa; Hircan should act the part of Pluto, Meliantes that of Jupiter, and Philiris that of Ceres. There wanted nothing but a Cupid: And Clarimond seeing Carmelin, who had newly acted him, said he was as pretty for to act him, as if he had been painted for that purpose. Carmelin being very low in comparison of Polidor, who was to be his mother Venus, 'twas thought no part could be more convenient for him; and Lysis for his sake imagined a new stile, which he called the Infantine stile, wherein he thought he might be able enough because of his ordinary simplicities. It was only he that made some resistance, calling to mind that the part they gave him had not been very fortunate to him, and had been the cause he had been well beaten that afternoon. They persuaded him out of that fear, and assured him that the part he was to have would be both pleasant and honourable to him. Upon this one of the men went to Orontes' for an Ovid's Metamorphoses, and Philiris having read aloud the subject of the future Comedy, showed every one what he had to do. The day being spent in these entertainments, they left the wedding; and all those of Orontes' company going along with him, Hircan took away his to his Castle. As they were ready to go in, I am excessively hot, says Lysis; I know not whether it proceeds from the weather, or from the Love which possesses my heart: I have a great desire to go into the water to night; is there any body else of the same mind?  
It happened that Clarimond and Philiris had a mind to go into the water; so that they left the rest of the company to go into the river Morin. 'Twas about half a league off, and yet they cheerfully overcame the way, discoursing of divers things with Carmelin, whom they carried with them to look to their clothes, though there were no need of it. As they were putting off their clothes, Lysis not able any longer to conceal the design he had, spoke thus to them. 'Tis very true, my friends, that it is a pleasure to me to go into the water, both for to refresh myself a little in this hot season, and to wash my body: But besides this, my intention is to go and see the aquatic Divinities that lodge in this River. I have not mentioned it to Hircan, because I doubt he would have endeavoured to divert me, by making me believe I am no Demigod, as I have sometimes been, and that I am not any longer permitted to converse with those of that quality. I know no reason why he should say so; for in all Histories we have a many examples of humane persons that have spoken to Divinities. Is it not because he hates them, and will have me hate them too? As for the aquatic Gods, since he hath plucked off their beards, 'tis certain he loves them not much: And if I should have spoken to him of going to see them, he would not have come, for fear of receiving some affront. But I who am one of their greatest friends, as I have good testimony, I will confidently go and see them, and if I can, I will have their Crystal palaces opened to you.  
With these words the Shepherd cast himself headlong into the water. Clarimond and Philiris fearing he might be drowned, made haste in after him, and recovered him, when he had drunk so much that he was almost gone. Being a little sensible of his fault, he told them there was no means to visit the Aquatic Divinities that day, and that they desired not to be seen, since they had not divided the water to make him a passage to their Courts. He afterward washed himself quietly, and put on his clothes with the rest, without any extravagancy at all. Only he said it troubled him that he had not spoken to the Gods of the waters, because he would have invited them to their sports, to make them more complete, if they were to represent some Story wherein it were necessary some aquatic Deity appeared on the Stage. He also said they must needs find out some Hamadryads, or at least some Satyrs, without which it was impossible to act a good Pastoral. He would not have them counterfeited as the other Divinities; because he had read in the Pastorals of Julietta, that those Goats familiarly appeared to Shepherds, and that they ravished the Shepherdesses. Besides he imagined he had once seen one, and that he might again meet with a true one.  
Possessed with this imagination, he prayed Clarimond and Philiris to return to Hircans, and to leave him near a Thicket where he hoped to meet with some rural Divinities. They, who were somewhat hungry, went their way and left him with Carmelin, who had rather have gone with them then stay with his master, whose imaginations pleased him not. However they stayed together, and Lysis began to speak thus: Fair Hamadryads! divine Fairies! who dance all night by the moonshine; and you lascivious Fawns! can I by no means see one of you?  
He had scarce spoken this, but he perceives afar off ten or twelve torches, which passed from one place to another. Ah good god! they are false lights which will lead us to drowning, cries out Carmelin: O master, do not follow them I let me never be thought my mother's son, if they do not destroy you: If you will prevent it, lie down on the ground. Ah dastard! says Lysis, do thou stretch thyself as thou wilt, this adventure is reserveed for me: I must follow those torches, for I see heaven now favours me. 'Tis Ceres Eleusina, who having heard that to morrow we were to represent her story, will be present in person, and act her own part. Those are her torches that appear, they are her true badges. Now all my wishes are accomplished: All the Gods will come down on earth, to represent before us what they sometime did before; so that those to whom we have assigned their parts, must modestly resign them, confessing themselves unworthy to act them, and content themselves to be spectators.  
In saying so, he runs up and down, thinking to catch one of the torches; but they stayed not long in a place. At last they came all together; and Lysis thinking he should then catch them, ran so much the faster, and that so confidently, that passing between two trees where a cord was fastened, he showed a feat of activity, and tumbled into a ditch full of rushes and reeds. Those who carried the torches, were the Country people of the wedding, who having taken notice of all his actions, knew that he and Carmelin were gone into the water with Clarimond and Philiris. Their design was to frighten them, and to make them fall into some snares, which they had placed up and down to catch those that had offended them. Some of them having observed that Clarimond and Philiris were gone into Hirtans, but Lysis and Carmelin not, they concluded they were fallen somewhere, and that they were sufficiently revenged. They thought best to leave them where they were, as also because they thought it would have been to no purpose to look for them in the dark, were they minded to beat them. Carmelin not hearing any more the voice of his Master, lifted up his head a little; and not seeing the torches, which were put out, he presumed to get up on his feet, and to look for Lysis. He called him on every side, when at last a mournful voice came to his ears: he thought it were Lysiis that spoke. Where am I? said he; am I in the infernal fens? is Charon's boat any thing near me? Alas! my poor master, cries out Carmelin, tell me where you are, and I will come and help you. O Goddess Ceres! says Lysis again to him, if you will send me to hell, do me at least the favour to tell me for what crime. Is it for going to entertain your daughter Proserpina, and to teach her the art of Shepherdry? Carmelin hearing this discourse, so little to the purpose, cried his heart almost out, to let his master know it was his faithful Carmelin; and at length, having softly slidden into the ditch, he drew him out. Lysis taking him then for no other than he was, joined with him to seek out the way to Hircans Castle, which after many turns they met with. They made long complaints of the accident had happened to them; and Carmelia, to show how infinitely he was afraid, swore there were as many torches as stars in the sky. For to cheer them up, there was a fire set on, and supper brought them: and afterwards they were disposed into good beds, where they slept till the next day.  
All got up betimes in the morning to study their parts: There was none but searched in Hircans study for the books that were most necessary for to learn the language he was to observe. The Gallimathiasist turned over the loves of Des Escuteaux, and other modern books. The Hyporbolist picked out what was most for his purpose, out of some other books, and so every one endeavoured to make himself the most perfect he could. Only Carmelin discovered his ignorance; for not finding any means to make use of the Common places he had by heart, there was nothing in his mind that contributed any thing to his part. Polidor, who was to come into the scene with him, lectured him a little, and assured him, that besides what he taught him, the necessity of speaking would furnish him with many conceptions, when it came to the push. Carmelin was confident thereupon, and troubled not himself with any further study.  
When they had all dined, Pluto put on a black Cassock, Jupiter a red, Venus was in green, Ceres' in yellow, Proserpina in blue, Cyana and Arethusa in white; and as for Love, It was resolved he should be stark naked. He told them, he would never do it; and that he was more modest then to show himself uncovered, before so many women. He therefore was permitted in his drawers, having Goose-wings on his back. They hanged about him a quiver, and gave him a bow in his hand.  
In the mean time, Clarimond having been to look out a place, the fittest could be found for the stage, found out one near Hircans wood. Thither came the whole company, and Orontes and all his train came to be spectators. There was a little hillock, that served to represent the mountain of Erix, whereon Venus appeared first. There were over against it two trees, whereon there was a cross piece laid, with a long rope in the middle, at the end whereof they had fastened a short stick. They commanded Cupid to set himself astride thereon, and then they began to wag him from one side to another, as if he had been in a swing, to make him imagine he fled. He was so amazed to see himself in the air, that he began to cry out, that he would cast away his bow to have his hands free, and hold fast by the rope, if they did not give over frightening him. Upon that they cast a cord to him for him to tie himself withal, and having put it about him with a single knot, a Lackey, who was gotten upon one of the trees, took the other end of it. After this, Venus looking on him, spoke to him in this manner, in her Hyperbolical Language, Dear Son, who art another myself, wilt thou not that one dart of thine pierce the heaven and the earth, and be afterwards an axletree for this great fabric, that it may be believed it is only thou that dost sustain it? Thy fires have lighted the sun and the stars; have they not already burnt up Neptune and all his waters? That thou mayest consummate thy victories, must they not devour the fires of hell? Come and repose thyself on this mountain, which is a pillar that supports the heaven; may, advances its crown above that fair vault, for to make a throne for our Divinity; come hither, my delight, thou hast already shredded the air with thy wings, more times than there are grains of sand on the sea shore. Come my child, and I will wipe of the sweat off thy forehead, which makes an ocean big enough for a fleet. Do not stay any longer my Minion, I will show thee thy uncle, whom thou must so grievously wound, that all his body shall be but one wound. Venus here held her peace, and the presence expected some fine answer from Cupid, when he began to cry out as loud as he could, Oh my friends, help, help, I am choked! Some were amazed, others laughed at it, but all looked towards Carmelin. The Lackey that was on the tree, drew the cord so hard, that it tickled his throat more than it should: so that they bid him hold his hand; and the poor Cupid calling to mind the simplicities which they had put into his head, spoke thus, with a voice as clear as the sound of a glass, What is your pleasure? Mamma, if you will have me come and see you, you must promise to buy me a hobby-horse at the fair, that when I am weary of flying, I may go gallantly by Land. You must also give me, an't please you, a new whistle; for I have sold mine to Mercury, for to make use of in his pimpages. What would you with me? will you have me tell you what I have lost at Cockcal to my Brother Anteros and your Graces? I played too t'other day at push-pin, with Ganymede, but he is a cheating companion. He would ever win, and under pretence that Jupiter loves him, he thinks he may do any thing, and not fear the rod, nay, that he may one day have my quality, and dispossess me of my torch; but when I shall find him by himself, I'll order him as he deserves, and I'll tell his master of his seeking birds-nests, instead of going to school; you know he geese to learn Latin of Mercury. There is yet a great deal more news: I'll tell you all, but, Oh God, I die, I die, if I am not let down! But quickly then, my friend, take me hence, I shall make sauce in my shirt else; let me down, let me down, in good faith I shall spoil all the ceremony else. Carmelin having so said, they knew not whether he spoke this as his part; but at length he cried out so loud to be let down, that they saw he spoke in good earnest, and not as an actor. They took him down out of his swing; and he assoon got him behind the Mountain Erix, where he discharged himself of a burden which somewhat troubled him. 'Twas supposed that that accident of not being able to command his belly, proceeded from that agitation. Being therefore excused, he came cheerfully into play again, & having crept up to the place where Venus was, he went to receive her embraces and caresses.  
In the mean time there issued out a great flame from between the trees, and there was heard the noise of some crackers; and after that arrived Pluto in a chariot, drawn by two black horses, which he whipped as fast as he could lay on. I who a● the natural brother of the Father Altitonant (says he in his pedantic language which he had chosen) I on whom Destiny hath bestowed the Acherontical Diadem, and the Superiority of the Avernus must I suffer the Latonian Torch to send the beams of its golden periwig, even to the midst of my most opake shades, through the hiatus of the earth? I must with all festination take a most ample course, with this atrocious tumultuosity.  
Pluto having so said, drove his Chariot up and down; and Cupid in the mean time spoke to his Mother, I'll shoot at him; Are you willing? shall I do it? is it now time Mother? She made a sign to him that she was willing; and he presently shot him in at the third button: whereat Pluto being strangely surprised, spoke thus, What new jaculation is this hath struck me? Ah! Celestial Fate, where shall I find my Dittany? In saying so, he perceived Proserpina making of Posies at the entrance of the wood: Alas! (cried he out) this is she hath incarcerated my liberty, within the prison of her ineffable pulchritude: I will as soon be a ravisher, as a lover of her. With that word he leaped down, and took up Proserpina, whom he carried to his proud Chariot, casting her into it like a Sack of Wheat. O cruel one! cried she out, let me take along with me my flowers, I do conjure thee by my showers of tears: If thou wilt but a little stay, I will cast myself into those snares which thou shalt for me lay. What, wilt thou take me, never to forsake me? 'Tis not thy surest way, to ravish me away. Art thou not moved by my prayers, nor by my tears? O thief! who hurt'st me with they jeers. It seems thy ears mind not my complaints, which witness I do suffer so great pains, or rather so many deaths again.  
Notwithstanding this fine complaint, and a many allusions, Pluto drove his horses on, and made them go as quick as tempest, the sooner to bring his Mistress into his infernal Kingdom. He passed by a ditch, whence issued Cyana half naked, and with long dishevelled hair as if she were come out of the water: But the Chariot went on so fast, that she could not give Pluto the check she had thought on; yet would she not omit her part, so that she ran up and down as it were to overtake the God of Hell. Instead of going into the Wood whither he was entered, behind the mountain Eryx, she went into the highway, there she found a Wagon covered with cloth; there was in it a man and a woman, whom she took for Pluto and Proserpina. She drove the horses into the Scene, while the Waggoner was making water a little behind. Thou shalt go no further, thou robber Pluto, (cried out the Shepherd Lysis, who acted the part of the Nymph Cyana.) Love delights more in mildness then violence: Thou shouldst have won Proserpina by thy submissions and the testimonies of affection, and not have ravished her. As long as I have arms, I will hinder the violence of thy chariot; and I who am but a poor silly Maid, will resist a God.  
The Waggoner at length running after his waggon, imagined the woman had led it away was some spirit; but finding himself engaged among so many as was there, he was in a greater perplexity than before, and those in the waggon were not less amazed, praying Cyana to let them go on their journey. At last the man that was in the waggon made bold to come out to thrust her away; and having narrowly observed her, and attentively heard her voice, he presently cried out, Ah mad fool! is it then thou whom we have now met! I thought thou hadst been far enough hence, whereas thou comest now to present thyself before me in a worse condition then at Paris or S. Cloud: Now thou art disguised like a Witch. O God what affliction is this to our family! Must this miserable Wretch discredit us all?  
Anselm, who was among the spectators, had no sooner seen the man, but he knew him to be Mr. Adrian, Lysis' Guardian. He presently went out of his place and saluted him, desiring him not to be angry with his Ward, since what he said was not out of folly, but it was the Part assigned him in the sport they were then about.  
In the mean time Cyana went and cast herself into her ditch, and began to cry out thus: Alas! how am I now well punished for my rashness? My blood is turned into water, my bones soften; there's nothing of me which becomes not liquid: Pluto hath metamorphosed me into a Fountain, that shall ever weep for the ravishing of the fair Proserpina.  
Adrian hearing this, believed not what Anselm had said to him; he told him he could not believe but Lysis was madder than ever, and that he was made do all those absurdities for to make others sport. Do you not also see, replies Anselm, six or seven other persons of quality disguised as well as he? And upon that Hircan, Philiris, and Meliantes, whom the strangeness of the accident had forced to come out of the places where they were retired, showed themselves unmasked to Adrian. He saw they were people well enough in their wits, and was somewhat appeased, thinking his Ward could do nothing undecent amongst them. Carmelin came in with the rest; and having understood that Adrian would not believe they were acting a Comedy in that place, I was also of it, says he to him, I tell you so much, that you may no longer doubt of it: See, here's my bow; look on it, is it not of good wood?  
While they laughed at this simplicity, Philiris habited as a Goddess went to Lysis. He found his mind was so transported, that he could not consider it was his Cousin he had met. Gracious Ceres! (says the Nymph Cyana speaking to Philiris) have you already sought every where your Proserpina with your burning torches? Hath not Arethusa told you that Pluto detains her for his Spouse in hell? Have you not yet made your complaint of it to Jupiter King of the Gods? We are not there yet, says Philiris; come away quickly, there's need of you. How's that? says Cyana, is the order of our Play disturbed? Who is in fault that it goes not forward? who are the perturbators of our enjoyments? Have not I played my part of the Fountain well? methinks I am already melted into water, as sugar in the mouth. I tell you there's one of your friends come, replies Philiris, come quickly and salute him, He is much troubled about you: I think I have heard him called Adrian; remember yourself whether you know him or not.  
This news bred a change in Lysis; and though he were accustomed to take all fictions for truths, yet the name of Adrian so disturbed him, that he soon forgot the ravishing of Proserpina was a doing. Yet he sunk into his hole, not that he thought himself a Fountain, but that he might not be seen. Anselm desirous to have him appear, went to the ditch with Adrian, who said to him, So, so! do not hide yourself, Cousin, I know well enough 'tis you. Then was he forced to come out and salute Adrian, and afterward went to the waggon where his Cousins good wife was, whom he had taken for Proserpina. While he was in his compliments and excuses to her, Adrian told Anselm, that he wondered to find them in Brie, whereas Lysis had assured him they were to go into Forests. 'Tis besides our intention that we are in this Country, replies Anselm; and I believe it hath happened so, that we might have the happiness to see you here: But I pray what great designs have brought you this way? I am on a pilgrimage to St. Fare with my wife, answers Adrian; though I am not the best in the world, yet must a man endeavour to be so. Be pleased to day to be merry with us, says Anselm; and to morrow you may go on your way, and be in as good time at Faremonstier, as if you lay there to night. You'll excuse me, replies Adrian, I must by your favour into the waggon again, Not before you drink with us, says Orontes; you shall bait here.  
After this there was brought on the place a many good things to eat; and the Play being interrupted, both the Actors and Spectators came to the Banquet. Adrian and his wife, and the Waggoner having satisfied themselves, were resolved to continue their journey: So they got into the waggon, and ask where Lysis lived, He is so good Company, replies Anselm, that all will have him by turns: He is sometimes at Orontes', sometimes at Montenor's, sometimes at Clarimond's; but at any time you will have tidings of us at Hircan's Castle. When I have done my devotions at Faremonstier, says Adrian, I will endeavour to get in a little money due to me from a Gentleman of this Country, and then I shall be able to stay here two or three days: But as I come back, I will take Lewis along with me to Paris, for I believe he is too troublesome to you. Farewell Gentlemen and Ladies! adieu Cousin! Drive on, Waggoner.  
The Waggoner set forward, and all the Company wished a good journey to the Merchant and his wife. None was discontented but Lysis: He was troubled at the promise his Cousin made to fetch him away, and knew not how to remedy it. Clarimond comforted him the best he could; and Hircan desirous to put something more pleasant into his mind, told him, that since the ravishing of Proserpina had been interrupted, and that there was no means to begin it again, they would the next day act the Golden Fleece. That's an excellent design, saves Lysis: but where shall be the Sea? We'll go to a Lake that's a quarter of a league hence, replies Hircan. It's better we went to the River Morin, says Clarimond; I know a place where there is a little Isle, that shall be the Isle of Colchos. That will be excellent, says Lysis to him: Thou shalt be Jason; Meliantes shall be Medea; Hircan that plays on the Lute, shall be Orpheus that accompanied the Argonauts, and cheered them up with his music. For my part, I'll be Zethes and Philiris shall be Calais, two brothers twins, the children of Boreas and Orithia; and for Carmelin, he shallbe the King Phineus, a part very convenient for him in my opinion, for he is ever hungry enough. As for the other parts, as Castor and Pollux, and some other of the Argonauts and the Harpies, they that shall act them shall be such as need not speak unless they will.  
This order being approved, the Company parted with hope the next day to have good sport. All the Actors read the Fable of Jason, and every one considered the fittest words for his part. As for Carmelin, he told them he would now speak learnedly, and not simply; and that he desired to show some casts and dashes of his knowledge. Clarimond with his assistance composed what he had to say, and gave it him in Notes, which he did nothing but read all night and the next morning, such was his desire to do well: His stile was half Proverbs, and the rest was Fancy.  
The time of the sports come, all the Actors dressed themselves, and went to the River of Morin, where the rest of the company met near about the same time. The Actors were only of Hircans Train, because they seemed to be of the better humour, and as it were fit for nothing but to make sport for others. Anselm, Montenor, and Orontes were there only as spectators with the Ladies and some other friends. The spectators having seated themselves on the River side, there was hard by them a Table, and at that a Chair. Carmelin came and fate in it, having on a fair Nightgown, a false white Beard, and a Crown of yellow Passbord. He was very glad to see himself a King once in his life; and observing three or four Waiters serving up some meat before him, he was not a little proud to see himself so magnificently treated. He well remembered that Clarimond had told him he should not eat, and that all his meat would be taken away from him; but he thought he had jested with him, and that there were no danger to eat a bit or two, if so be he could do it. His Carver had no sooner presented him with a Pullet's wing, but the two Harpies very oddly habited came in; one with her claws took away the wing, while the other snatched away the whole carcase with an iron crook. King Phineus seeing they were gone, began to speak in this manner. Ah miserable Prince that I am! to what purpose have I so much money, which I rake up with shovels, and measure by the bushel? To what purpose have I so many Country-houses, where I may be fed of all sorts of creatures, if I cannot eat because of these abominable monsters which take away all from me? 'Tis to much purpose to kill for me so many tender Chickens, which die young, to make me live the longer: Of all this I have nothing but the smoke. My Courtiers do sufficiently remonstrate to me, that patience passes science; but a starved belly hath no ears. In the posture I am, I could eat through stonewalls, for there's no sauce to hunger. King Phineus having said this, cast his eye on his Notes which he had laid on the table for to look in sometimes, if his memory failed him. Clarimond had set down all he was to do; so that he read aloud these words which he found there: Carmelin who represents King Phineus, must now call to drink. Give me some wine there, I command you, since it is so in the writing, continued he.  
All began to laugh at this pleasant simplicity. But he, who thought of nothing but his profit, made ready to receive the glass out of the hands of his people, imagining he should drink, though he could not eat: But as he thought to carry the glass to his mouth, comes a Harpy, and with her claws breaks it all to pieces. That made him angry in good earnest; and in spite of all the precepts of Clarimond, he resolved to swallow somewhat. They had no sooner brought him a shoulder of mutton, but he presently fell on, without staying to be carved to. He fell a biting it so revengefully, as if he would have devoured all at a bit; but the Harpies came in immediately and tugged with him, and had almost broke his teeth. He seeing they were too strong for him, called for a rib of Beef, and taking a staff from one of the waiters he in good earnest set on the fingers of those Monsters when they came near his table, though he had not been taught to do that, and act his part well. Yet the Harpies carried away the meat, and left him so disconsolate, that he would not have any thing more served up. While he groaned in his chair, they saw afar off a boat, wherein were the Argonauts, clad like brave Gentlemen. They had all branches in their hands, except Orpheus, who played on the Lute; and sung a sea song, which began thus: 
Gentles, command, I will not fail,  
My ship is going to set sail, etc.   
The rest answered him in a Chorus, and made a very excellent music.  
The vessel being arrived at a port near the table of Phineas, Zethes and Calais were set a shore, for to find out this King. O fair youths, says he to them, what good wind hath brought you into my territories? you are here both wello-ome, and wellreceived. Can I not by your assistance be delivered from a sort of filthy birds, who snatch away all that is laid on my table, for the subsistence of my individual. Great King, replied Zethes, Feathers are come out at our backs, at the same time as hair on our chins: we fly as well as the wind Boreas our father. 'Cause to be brought before you the meat which serves for a bait to these Monsters, and you shall see what we are.  
Phineas upon that, commanded his people to bring him somewhat; they set on the table a fat Capon, and the Harpies were presently there to take it away; but Zethes and Calais laid hand on their swords, and frighted them so, as they fled: They ran after them so fast, as it might be thought they fled. In the mean time Carmelin looking on his paper, saw a marginal note that pleased him very well, and which he had not before at all taken notice of: he could not but plainly deliver it just as he found it written: 'Tis now, says he, that King Phineus delivered from the Harpies, may eat at liberty, He afterwards said very courageously of his Capon; and uttered this discourse, half by heart, and half reading out of his paper, Oh! how delicious is this meat, after a long fast, which had contracted and shrunk up my bowels, like scorched parchment? What pleasure shall I have henceforward, to feed on those meats, whereof I had forgotten the taste? I shall no longer believe that my servants are happier than myself, as heretofore, when they ate their belly fulls, I was always empty. As he had done saying so, the children of Boreas returned victorious, so that he spoke these words to them, as he read them word for word in his paper, Sacred young men, you have restored me my life, since you have restored me to eating. Assure yourselves, that this good office shall not be answered with ingratitude. I will have a Temple built you as high as the clouds, where I will every day adore you as most favourable Gods. At the end of this he cried out aloud, FINIS; because Clarimond had written that word at the end of his notes.  
After this, he retired to the Spectators, who applauded him, as if he had done wonders, because the faults he had committed were so pleasant, that if he had observed the precepts had been given him, he had done nothing near so well. As for the children of Boreas, they got into their vessel, which set sail towards the Isle of Colchos, where was a fleece fastened to a tree. The Argonauts being all landed, Jason, who seemed to be stouter than any of the rest, began to speak thus in his galimathias, Behold the ground where are the greatest riches in the world, and where is a world of riches. I already see the shining of that golden fleece, which with a ray feeblie radiating, wounds the eyes, and yet doth not hurt them, and makes us as much live by hope, as we die for fear.  
The other Argonauts answered to that in divers styles; and they spoke so loud, that those on the other side could hear them. A while after appeared Medea, with those temptations that stole away the liberty of Jason. He presently courted her in these words, Fair soul of my soul, desire of my desire, the residence of my conceptions, will you not believe that my liberty is sacrificed on the altar of your beauties? since I know you I am miraculously fallen in love with an amorous miracle; and all I desire, is but to die for you a living death, which is better than a drying life. But if your attracting sweetness be changed into a cruelty so cruel, as most cruelly to despise me; and that the ability whereby you are able to heal me, find impossibility in its power, doubt not but my amorous misfortune, and my unfortunate love will principitate me headlong into some precipice.  
All the fine words, wherewith you harness your Language (replies Metaphorically the Sorceress Medea) cannot pour into my mind the belief of your love. I will not suffer myself to be lulled asleep on the soft pillows of your words. You come out of a Country which is over glutted with fairer women than I am, and I shall never be bound up, into so high a presumption, as to persuade myself that you are ensnared in the lines of my affection. And this makes me believe you have set up a shop of dissimulation; but my reason stands so well on her guard, within the fort of my soul, that you need not hope to take it by assault. I know well, if you were once entered there, you would put all to fire and sword, and you would sack even my firmest constancy. I must not follow the flags of folly, nor the cheating allurements which would bring me into the hook: I had rather cost along some happy river, where I might be sheltered from all misfortunes in the Haure de Grace of Love.  
Jason and Medea, who were very able persons, continued their discourse a good while, being of the same stuff as what we have heard. Were they all to be written down, with the issue of the play, 'twere to put one book in another, and to trouble and importune the Reader with humours that are already stale, and which repeated, loose much of the grace they had when first acted. It shall then suffice me to tell you, that Medea beings as much taken with the merit of Jason, as Jason was with her beauty, gave him certain drugs for to lay asleep the waking dragon, that watched the golden fleece. He came near the place where it was according to the fable; but as he thought to take it, the dragon came and frighted him away. 'Twas an engine made of Pasteboard, which a man placed within made to go. Jason cast on it a certain liquor, and presently the beast lay along without any motion; so that he easily took down the fair fleece which he desired, and took Medea by the arm, for to embark her in his vessel, and bring her into Greece.  
Lysis having observed all this, was not content with the words which he had order to speak, but he went and held Jason by the arm; Thou shalt not go so, says he to him, thou hast done but half thy work: Dost thou think the golden fleece can be so easily obtained? Hast thou not read that it is kept by Bulls with brazen feet, and iron horns, as well as by the waking Dragon? Thou must also charm these creatures, and make them submit their necks to the yoke for to till this ground, wherein thou must sow Serpens teeth. This fatal seed shall grow up, being watered with blood and venom, and shall produce armed men, against whom thou must fight, until a mutiny happening amongst them, they ruin themselves. And it is after these Labours that thou shalt deserve to be recompensed. Stay therefore here, or I swear there shall none of the Argonauts follow thee. Come away then, let the Bulls be brought. We have not any here, says Hircan; do you think that all things can be so punctually represented? There is never any Comedy, wherein some things of the history are not passed over in silence; or it is made believe, that what is most difficult, is done behind the curtain, and is afterward related on the stage. That way is worth nothing, says Lysis, I would have all things natural. I must have that done which I tell you, if you intent to act parts with me. Now all our sport is spoiled for want of foresight. But another time let those that are charged with preparing things, forget nothing of what is necessary.  
Lysis having thus spoken, got into the boat, with all those that were in the Isle, for it could not be denied but the Comedy was handsomely performed. This disorder that had happened in it, was more pleasant, than any thing of order; and 'twas good recreation to hear Lysis' complaints, who all that day left not quarrelling with Clarimond and Hircan, for not having brought bulls into the Isle. He was at last appeased, with promises that all Comedies should be acted very magnificently, or else that they would act none at all; and his proposition was, That, when they had caused clothes of all fashions to be made, they might represent all Ovid's Metamorphoses one after another; and then all Virgil's Aeneads, besides some other Poetical fictions. 'Twas conceived it might be excellent pastime to see so many Fables so conceitedly represented, and yet Lysis met with extreme delays, because the world is pleased with change, and that the Company were resolved to dispose otherwise of themselves; and besides, it would have been a very difficult matter to represent so many several actions as Lysis did imagine; for when there should be occasion that some Gods should have come down from heaven, by what invention could it have been done? That could not so easily have been represented, as hell, which might have been signified by some Quarry, or some low brick oven.  
But our Shepherd had yet a much stranger design; for the more natural acting of a Comedy, he thought not sufficient to make use of one scene; because said he, sometimes they had to represent things done in divers Countries; he therefore desired that what was done in a village, should be done in a village; and that which had been done on a mountain, should be done on a mountain; though haply the Actors must have walk a League, before they could come to one; so that the Spectators must have a great deal of trouble to follow them from place to place: and go along with them sometimes about a spring, sometimes follow them into a Temple to see them act their parts.  
This was Lysis' way, and not to build upon the stage Castles of Pasteboard, and to call the seen sometimes Thrace, sometimes Greece. You may easily perceive by these extraordinary imaginations, that his desire was to come as near as he could to the truth: But so many difficulties could not but be very importune and troublesome: Besides, it was considered, that if they continued any while to act plays so publicly, the Nobility for twenty leagues about would have come to see the sport, and haply would have laughted at such conceits, which could not be to the liking of all the world; for it happened to this true representation, as it did to this simple relation which I make of it, which haply will not please your vulgar minds, who understand not what true Satire is. Some Country people and Citizens who passed by the way, stayed to see the Comedy of our Shepherds, and had left them not without astonishment, thinking they had all some worm of folly in their heads.  
The diversion of Comedies was therefore quite hissed out, and Lysis had now nothing of greater concernment to think on, then to know whether his Mistress had seen nothing of all this, because he was afraid she had not vouchsafed to appear. Though she had not stirred out of the house, yet did they make him believe, that she had been to see the Conquest of the golden fleece, for a while, and that she was returned with the first. I am certain she takes no pleasure in any thing of all that I do, says the Shepherd; but since in all my past actions she hath not found sufficient testimonies of my affection, I am resolved my death shall convince her of it. Moderate thy despair, incomparable Shepherd, says Hircan; Thou must not end thy life without the will of the Gods: Thou art obliged to preserve thyself for the good of others, for thou art not only born for thyself. I now tell thee in good earnest, that it is thou that art the Dove, that must be changed into an Eagle. The time is now come that I must expound my prophecy to thee: thou must now exchange that peaceable composition of mind, for a marshal courage; and it is only by thy means that Meliantes' Mistress must be belivered out of prison. That thou mayest understand how this may be accomplished, know, I will make thee as invulnerable as ever Achilles was. If thou canst do that, learned Magician, replies Lysis, there is no doubt but I will as confidently engage in all combats, as any Heroes that ever was. I never boast of any thing I cannot accomplish, replied Hircan: but thou art to know, that thou canst not bring the adventure about, without the Shepherd Carmelin, though the Magician of the enchanted Castle did not mention him: The Gods have revealed this to me; besides, the courteous Carmelin shall be equally incapable of being wounded, for I will not favour him less than his master.  
Lysis and Carmelin assuring themselves on the word of Hircan, imagined what a great pleasure it would be to cut monsters in pieces, it being so provided that they themselves were not in any danger of blows. Having therefore taken leave of all those that went not along with the Magician, they followed him home to his Castle. All supper time, there was nothing spoken of but valour; and the Shepherd Lysis believing he might easily become a valiant Champion, assured Hircan he had prophesied nothing but what was true, and that he was ready to change the Pastoral habit into a Military. He told him he was no longer in the error he had sometimes been in, to believe that for to become happy, a man should not bear arms, now that he considered the illustrious actions of so many ancient Heroes, which had never scaled heaven but by that noble way.  
The End of the Ninth Book.   

THE Anti-Romance; OR, THE HISTORY Of the SHEPHERD LYSIS.  
The Tenth Book.  
Lysis and Carmelin retired after supper into their chamber, according to order from Hircan, who presently went to them, telling them the hour was now come that they should be made invulnerable. Must we strip ourselves stark naked? says Lysis: will you plunge us into the river Styx, as Thetis did Achilles? You must not then be so heedless as that Goddess; She made her Son invulnerable all over, but that part where he was to be wounded: 'twas a great want of judgement, may she not be offended! She that by her divinity knew the decrees of the Destinies, and foresaw things to come, why did she not make armour-proof that dangerous part of Achilles his body? Knew she not well enough, that when his enemies once had notice there were a part of his body could not be hurt, they would not make at that, and would dispatch him as soon as another that had but a common body? Besides, I know not how she ordered the business, that she suffered his heel to be so sensible, as to be capable of a mortal wound. The wounds which we may any way receive about the feet, are not dangerous; nay though it were the Gangrene, there were no more than cutting off the foot, to hinder it from gaining on the heart, and consequently that the party die not. Had this Thetis been minded to make Achilles absolutely invulnerable, why did she not put him quite under water, and hold him by the hair of the head, and not hold him by a part which must needs keep dry, and consequently remain mortal; if his hair were not yet come, why did she not plunge his feet in after his head? You forget yourself, Lysis, says Hircan, you must not go so far in reforming the actions of the Divinities. It must be believed, that whatever they have done hath been for the best. Were you Clarimond who carps at all things, you could say no more. Yet I excuse you for the present since 'tis only the fear you are in lest I should not do my duty, makes you speak thus; and you would advise me, if I were to thrust you over head and ears in some water, to wash your members one after another. But know there's no need of all this: My charms are so powerful, as to make you invulnerable with less ceremony than was used by the Divinities. How do you properly explain that word of Invulnerable? says Carmelin. That is to say, a thing that cannot be hurt or wounded, replies Hircan. I beseech you then let my Breeches have its part of your charms, replies Carmelin, that it may never be hurt by use nor accident. If there are wounds in thy clothes, replies Hircan, make plasters for them of the same stuff; I do not employ my Art in things so low. But let's have no more prating, be silent; I must charm you two with as much efficacy, as if you were in the Palace of Circe the Sun's daughter.  
Hircan having said this, did some extraordinary ceremonies, and repeated some barbarous words: Then said he to Lysis and Carmelin, Assure yourselves that nothing can henceforth hurt you: You have no more to do then to get into my Coach, which shall infallibly carry you to the enchanted Castle, where the fair Pamphilia is. The two Shepherds went along with him out of the chamber into the hall, where the company expected them. Hircan giving each of them a stick in his hand, bid them strike at an old earthen pot, which they presently broke in pieces. See you, says he to them, it will be as easy for you to break the head of a monster, as to break this vessel. As for your parts, nothing can hurt you; and that it is so, you shall now try. In saying so, Hircan took a Fire-pan; and making as if he would give Lysis a good blow, he moderated the violence of his arm when he was near his shoulders. 'Tis true, says Lysis, thou hast but tickled me a little. Let me also know what it is, says Carmelin. Hircan thereupon turned the Fire-pan from the place where he seemed to strike, and discharged it on Carmelins' buttocks, but so roughtly, that he made him scratch himself a good while after. This is no jesting, says he; methinks I should have been armed there. All this is well, replies Hircan: Thou shalt never suffer more hurt than thou hast now felt; for those whom thou art to deal with are not so strong as I am; and this is to assure thee thou shalt never receive wound after what I have given thee. Carmelin being a little comforted by this, wished for more pots and glasses for to try his forces on; and Lysis had the same desire, if Hircan had kept them any longer at their exercise. He therefore would dismiss them presently; but Lysis spoke to him in this manner: Learned Magician! what dost thou think on? Seest thou not we have yet our garments of peace on? We shall be nothing terrible, if we have not warlike habits on. For my part, I will be like a Heros, otherwise I will not hence. Hast thou not observed that representation of Theseus descent into hell, which thou hast in thy study? Since I am to fight with Monsters and Robbers, as that brave Warrior did, I will be accoutred as he was.  
This put Hircan in mind of an old blue Guard-coat he had in the bottom of a chest, which had sometimes served him in a mask: His man went and fetched it, and Lysis having viewed it, found it for his purpose. He took off his doublet for to put it on; but because it was half-sleeved, and was plated, and had little silver-nails, he turned up his shirt above his elbow, and fastened it there with pins, for to have his arms bare, as your ancient Warriors are painted. He would also needs have his thights bare, so that he went into the Wardrobe, where he put off his breeches and his drawers, and tied up the fore and hind-part of his shirt. When he had done, there were buskins brought him, which he had before asked for, he would put them on his bare legs, and in this equipage he came back to the rest. Somebody told him, that he was very well accommodated according to the ancient mode, but nothing to the present, and that there was no Captain in the King's Army that was so. Let them follow their fancy, says Lysis, and let me alone to follow mine. They shall not make me believe that a sort of raw younger brothers understand the Militia as well as so many invincible Heroes that are placed in heaven. I should not make known my desire to be of their number, if I did not imitate them as well in their modes as in their manners. Besides 'tis not to be thought I am the only man of this age, that is clad as you see me: I can show you how that the most able men that we have, are clothed as I am. 'Tis true they are Writers, but it it must be confessed they are Warriors too, since they have the confidence to be in the same garb as Theseus, Achilles, and Ajax. If it be replied again, They are not men of arms, I will tell them that I have so much the more reason to be clad like a Hero, since persons of so mean quality presume to do it.  
Upon that he called for the Works of seven or eight French Poets which Hircan had in his Study, and he showed them all, how at the beginning of every book the Authors had caused themselves to be drawn with Corslets according to the Grecian mode. He concluded they went so clad, since they were so drawn; and that they must needs grant him that, or freely confess that those people were very fantastic and very extravagant, to be drawn in that posture. That which was most ridiculous, was the picture of a Poet that was a Counsellor, who instead of his long robe had as the rest a Casaque, after the ancient mode, like a Heros in a Medal, though his countenance was the most pedantic thing in the world. Besides, to avoid the word Counsellor, which he thought not Courtlike enough for a Love-book as his was, he had put for his quality.  
All having sufficiently laughted at these excellent imaginations, they told Lysis that he yet wanted somewhat for to be absolutely accommodated to their imitation, and that was, that he had no Crown of Laurel on his head. Nor have I yet gotten any Victory, replies the new Warrior; I must wear only a Casket till that time. But there is another thing wanting which you think not on: Do you not see that these Heroes have I know not what about their necks? I cannot tell you what it is, and yet I must have such an ornament. Certainly 'tis a Napkin, says Clarimond. Thou art deceived, replies Lysis, that's unworthily spoken of Heroes, they are only Tavern-boys that carry napkins on their shoulders. So do also the Sewers in Kings houses, replies Clarimond: But now I have better considered it, I'll tell you what it is. 'Tis true, it is a Napkin; but about the necks of these people it is tied with a knot upon their right shoulder, as if they were a trimming, and I believe the Painter came to draw them when the Barber was setting up their moustaches, and that they were represented in the posture they were then in. Do not thou believe that, says Lysis, it never was a Napkin, now I know the truth what it is; 'tis a Scarf which these gallant men wear for a note of distinction between them and your common Gentlemen, who wear theirs under their arm: I must needs have such a one. I will give you a blue one, if you will wear it, says Hircan. I thank thee for that proffer, replies Lysis: But let us not go to work with so little consideration. I cannot imagine that these Scarves which Heroes should wear are blue, or red, or green, or yellow: I am of opinion they are white, for to signify the candour of their souls. That's very hard to determine, says Clarimond; for all ours are Copper-cuts, and here's no limming to show what colour the clothes are of. Lysis hath reason to believe that his Scarf should be white, says Hircan; the white is the colour of newmade Knights, he must bear it, though I have heard say his Mistress' colour is red. But this is the misery, that we have not ever a white scarf. There is only one remedy; I will give him a Napkin as fine as any silk. In the time of the Ligue, the honest Citizens which were Royalists had no other scarves to show which party they were of. I will not contradict thee in any thing, replies Lysis, so great is my desire to be immediately accommodated according to the ancient mode. Give me what scarf thou pleasest, whether it be silk, or whether it be thread; it will make me very brave, and very proud, since it comes from thy hand.  
Hereupon Hircan went to fetch him a fair clean Napkin, which he put about his and fastened it with a red ribbon upon his shoulder, that he might at least by that little knot have Charite in mind. They both in the mean time searched into their books, to see if they did any thing which were not conformable to the pourtraictures of the Poets.  
When the Shepherd was accommodated to his mind, Hircan put on his head and old head-piece; but he told him, he yet wanted a sword, and entreated Clarimond who had a good one to lend it him. Hircan answered him, he had another fitter for him, because it was an old fashioned one. He caused it and a belt to be brought, and girt it about Lysis. Carmelin observed all this mystery without saying any thing; and his master calling him to mind, acquainted Hircan, that he also must be accommodated like an Heroes of Antiquity. Hircan answered, it was enough for him to have arms according to the present mode, because he was not so deserving as Lysis; so that having sent for old armour, that had been his great Grandfathers, he was forced to put them on, much against his mind. Never was man more amazed than Carmelin, when they had endorsed him with the Corselet, and fastened on the arm pieces and the Tasles. He said, they put him into an iron prison, but it was worse when they put on the head piece: he told them, that they put his head into a Kettle, and would never suffer the visor to be let down. Hircan importuned with his continual complaints, made him believe, that though his body were as invulnerable as his Masters, yet was he not so valiant as he, and that to heighten his courage, 'twas not amiss for him to be armed Cap-a-pe. What use shall I have of these arms? replied he; they cumber me so, that I know not where I am. I cannot carry my hand to my mouth, I cannot advance one foot before another; and I am loaden, as if I carried a Tower.  
This burden will seem light to thee after a while, says Hircan; and thereupon having put into his hand a Target of tanned leather, he told Lysis it was time to be gone. Lysis answered he was ready, if they would but give him a Javelin, or a half-pike. But the Magician assured him he should never need any; so that he resolved to be gone; and having embraced all that were present, one after another, he went down into the Court. He got into the coach with Carmelin, who was very glad to sit down and rest him with his burden. This is then the Chariot that must carry us to the enchanted Castle, says Lysis; I have looked on the horses, but I cannot see any wings they have, though the Magician assured me divers times they had. When you are once within, their wings will begin to appear, says Hircan; and yet I must tell you, that for the present there will be no use for them, as long as there is any ground for them to go on; they shall not take their flight, till they come to the sea: Then shall you go so fast, that you shall think the coach moves not at all: And there will be yet another miracle, and that is, that days shall seem but minutes to you. When you come near the enchanted Castle, a Magician, a friend of mine, will invite you to rest yourselves in a neighbouring Isle which belongs to him: Do not you refuse his proffers. We will observe thy directions, says Lysis; but before I part, do me the favour as to let me see Meliantes, for whom I am to do so many warlike exploits. This Gentleman had ever since supper been busy in writing of letters to Paris; they went to him, and bid him give over, if he would see the departure of the valorous Champions. He with a feigned joy came to them, and assoon as he came into the Court, cried out, O Generous Warriors! since you undertake to deliver my Mistress out of captivity, I beseech heaven prosper your arms: Farewell my dear friends, assure yourselves you have obliged a man will serve you in life and death. Farewell friend, says Lysis, be confident I'll do any thing I can for thy satisfaction: I desire no other requital of thee, but that to morrow morning thou go to the Ambassadors of the Parisian Shepherds, and bid them return to those that sent them, and give them an account how I live, and how happy they may be with me. If they be here before my return, I desire Hirtan to appoint a Harbinger to take up lodging for them, for they will be a great number; but above all things, let there be a care had that no disorder or falling out happen about the pastures. I hope in a short time to be back to regulate all things myself. As for my Cousin Adrian, who returns by this way, I shall be glad to miss him, and that he get him to Paris without me. You may tell him what high enterprises have taken me up. And as concerning my Mistress, whom I reserve to the last, because I cannot speak of her without dying a thousand times of grief: Alas! I need send her no excuses for my absence, for I have well observed she was never much pleased at my presence.  
As Lysis ended these words, they made fast the boots of the coach with chains, and the Coachman drove on, taking his way towards a house of Hircans, which was about a league off. This Gentleman bethought him of this extravagant invention to make more sport with the humours of Lysis. Amarillis was returned to her own house before night; so that having no Mistress to entertain, he went from his Castle with the rest, and followed the coach of the two Warriors. They followed a good way off on horseback; and when they came to the Countryhouse, they found the horses taken out the coach, and that left under an arch of the house near the gate. They alighted with as little noise as they could, and went to hearken what the brave Champions said. Seest thou Carmelin, says Lysis, how true is every thing that Hircan says? This Magician assured us, that when we came to the sea, his horses should take their flight, and would go so fast, that we should think we stirred not from the place. That it is so, dost not observe how that the coach stirs not all? nay, we do not so much as hear the wheels, though it's to be thought they turn round as they pass through the clouds. The reason of that is, because extremity of motion seems to be immobility; and to this purpose, I will teach thee an excellent piece of learning. A while ago I read Ovid's Metamorphoses, where I found that the dog Laelaps, which had been presented to Shafalus, pursued a beast so lively, that one went no faster than the other. The beast run as fast as the dog; so that they were still at the same distance, and Laelaps gave many snatches in the air in vain. At last the Hunter Shafalus having recourse to his dart, was quite out of himself, when thinking to cast it at the beast, he found that the dog and it were nothing but marble statues, which were fastened in the midst of the field. Having studied very much to find a handsome explication of this, it came into my mind, that the Poets saying that these two creatures were changed into statues, was to represent the extreme swiftness of their course, and to teach men, what I now would, that extreme motion comes nearest to rest. This is a delicate exposition it must be confessed, and I would not have it perish, though my ordinary Tenent is, that Metamorphoses are rather truths than fictions; for I see not how this can anyway prejudice my opinion: Let it be taken for an Allegory, rather than a Mythology. 'Tis well known the learnedst Doctors do allegorise on the greatest verities in the world. But to return to my discourse, Carmelin, thou art to believe, that the extreme swiftness of our Chariot, hinders us to perceive its motion. Thou art not a man so fresh, but thou hast often seen experience of what I would persuade thee too. If thou turn a stick or a string very fast about, thou canst not observe the divers turns of it. And by this means would our senses deceive us in every thing, if the understanding which governs and directs them, did not assure us things were otherwise then they are represented. As much Philosophy as you will, replies Carmelin; but tell me not that our horses fly. When you tell me we are now in the air; there's not a vein about me that trembles not; and believe me, were it not that I am with you, and that I think I cannot come to any ill fortune in your company, I should cry out murder. Thou wouldst frighten the horses, which haply would precipitate thee into thee sea, replies Lysis; 'tis better be silent: it may be they'll fly so high, that they'll carry us into heaven, where we shall see those things whereof Astrologers speak only by conjecture: then shall we be able to make Almanacs, better than any they sell at Paris, and those thou didst sometimes make. I will also calculate Nativities; and that I may not fail in my speculations, I will hold the stars in my hands, and find by looking on them, what fortunes they promise my friends: whether they be animate, or whether they can speak, or whether they have every one an intelligence that conducts them, and speaks for them: I shall endeavour to consult with them about their several influences, and question them upon other particulars. We will thence go to the College, where the Souls learn before they are born what they must one day know. In that place there are good Spirits which are Professors among them, who put them to mighty discipline, if they profit not under their instructions. Plato never thought of this, though he hath spoken sufficiently of Reminiscence. We shall also meet with the two Tuns wherein Jupiter, according to Homer's saying, puts in all the Good and Evil which he sends among men. I would have thee bring away with thee a Wallet-full of the Good thou shalt find, that thou mayst never more complain of being unhappy. I hope we shall also be shown the Ideas of all things in the world, and that we may come thither so happily, as that we may be present at the ceremony of some Apotheosis, that is to say, we shall be there when some illustrious man is made a God. How shall we see any thing, says Carmelin, since we are now as deep in the dark, as if we were in our mother's bellies? Hope better and better, replies Lysis; some good Angel will come and deliver us out of this case wherein we are now locked up. Ah wretch that I am, replies Carmelin, I may well say I am double-cased: besides the case of our Coach, I am locked up into my Arms as an Oyster in the shell, or a knife in a sheath.  
The Gentlemen having heard these discourses, whereat they were ravished, retired every one into the lodging assigned him; there they laughed it out, and resolved to leave the valorous Champions in the coach till the morning. They had word brought them, that they had given over discoursing; so that they inferred they were asleep; and because it was somewhat late, they all laid them down to rest.  
Hircan awoke at three in the morning, so passionate was he for the humours of Lysis; and soon after he made the rest get up and make themselves ready to circumvent this valiant Shepherd. All things being ready, he went to the coach, and having opened the boots, he with a counterfeit voice called Lysis. He, who was not asleep, asked him presently what he would with him. Know that I am the Magician which must conduct thee to the enchanted Castle, says Hircan; come out and follow me: Let the good man that is with thee, come also. Upon that Lysis called Carmelin as loud as he could, but yet he awaked not; the encumbrance of his arms, it seems, hindered not his rest. His Master at length called him so often, that he awoke; but he bidding him come out of the Coach, he told him 'twas a thing impossible for him to do, and that he thought he was nailed to it, so heavy was the burden he had upon him. Upon that Lysis and the Magician took him out of his place by force: Hold by the tail of my gown, says the Magician to the two Warriors, I will bring you under ground to the place where you desire to go. Lysis took Hircan by the gown, and Carmelin took Lysis by his short coat; and thus they passed through obscure stables, where the two Warriors were in as much fear one as another. At last Hircan having brought them down certain stairs, told them he must leave them, and that now they need but come forwards, and be sure to be on their guards. Lysis sorry to leave so good a guide, passed along a gallery, at the end whereof was a great Cellar, where there was some light, by reason of two candles stuck to the wall. Before he went in, he asked Carmelin whether he had a good sword, or no. I a sword! says Carmelin, I never durst see one naked; I could better handle a Hedg-bill: you never thought to give me one, and I never thought to ask you for one. I have here a great Flake to defend myself (for so he called his Buckler) but I would to God, continued he, I had my Smoothing-plane for to smooths the noses of the Monsters we shall meet with, or that I had my Wimble to boar holes in their buttocks! Since thou art armed only for the defensive, and not for the offensive part, replies Lysis, I must fight for thee; and I am not sorry for it, for the greater will be my glory. Let us advance then, and see in what kind of place we are.  
The two Warriors were no sooner entered the Cellar, but they perceived the forms of two Giants making towards them. These two Monsters running towards them, sometimes became as little as men of ordinary stature; then presently they lifted up their heads to the roof, as if their necks were lengthened by screws. Carmelin finding himself persecuted by one of these Giants, cried out as loud as if he had been flaid alive. But his master observing that they had no arms, he was not so much afraid, and imagined there were no more to do but to cut off that long neck that made them seem terrible. He went to draw his sword, but it was so rusty that it was impossible to get it out of the scabbard. 'Twas then he thought himself an improvident Warrior, to come to a combat without seeing that his arms were fixed. Yet in necessity to make use of what he had, he took the sword out of the belt, and with it as it was in the scabbard he bestowed good blows on the Giant's necks, but he did them no hurt, for he struck only against a stick covered about with course clothes, at the end whereof was a false head, which he that was under lifted up and let down at his pleasure.  
Fontenay and Clarimond acted this part, and 'twas no small pleasure to them to terrify the Warriors. But at last Lysis perceiving he was never the nearer cutting off their heads, directed his blows below, which made them run away as fast as they could, the same way that Lysis and Carmelin were come thither. I need not despair though I cannot draw my sword, says Lysis: These are evil Spirits, which as soon as they are touched with any weapon whatsoever, suffer a solution of continuity (to speak in Philosophical terms:) Let them come in multitudes; the more they are, the more will be my victories.  
While the valiant Shepherd said this, there issued out at a little door three hulchbacked fellows, who had faces so ugly, as could not be looked on without horror. One of them, which was Philiris, began to sound an alarm on a Barrels head with two sticks, as if he had beaten a Drum; and the other two, who were Meliantes and Polidor, came and gave Lysis and Carmelin a many blows with the breadth of their swords. How now, Rascals! (says one of them with a hollow hoarse voice) we'll send you back again to keep your sheep: 'Tis a fine employment for such Rustics to go clad like Knights, and to imagine they can bring about the strangest adventure in the world.  
Lysis in the mean time avoided the blows the best he could: And as for Carmelin, having not the wit to put them off with his buckler, he held it by one end as if it had been a trencher, and at last cast it at the head of one of the monsters. He would afterwards have gladly run away; but he found his Arms so heavy, that he thought them a greater hindrance than help to him. For to be therefore rid of them, and to do some good with them by leaving them behind him, he strove to get them off. The thongs of his Head-piece were so worn, that they were easily broken; so that he took it with both hands and threw it at his enemies: He afterwards took off the Arm-pieces, and sent them the same way; and then he unlaced his Armour and hurled it at them, till he was quite disarmed. Some of his blows reached them so home, that they had a great desire to return them. They therefore renewed their charge both on the master and man; though only Lysis returned, and gave them some blows on the bunch they had before, which served them for a breastplate. At last these two Monsters got the two Warriors so near together, that with a thrust they laid them on the ground. They fell down upon them; and after they had well pinched their noses, and pulled them by the ears, they ran away with him that beat the drum. Lysis and Carmelin had much ado to get up again, so weak were they grown; yet did they firmly persuade themselves they were the conquerors, since they were masters of the field. Ah Cowards! cries out Carmelin, you are run away to die in some hole; for the hurts we have given you will not suffer you to live long: You were ashamed to die before us; but if you come in my way, I will give you good bangs after you are dead. 'Tis not yet time to brag, says Lysis; 'tis want of consideration, rather than true valour, makes thee speak so big. What wilt thou do, poor fellow, if there be yet more enemies? thou art quite disarmed. My confidence is, that I can receive no more hurt then yourself, says Carmelin. But alas! have we gone through our exploits? do I not see a terrible Dragon appear?  
Lysis thereupon looked towards a corner of the Cellar, which he had not observed before; he there perceives a great bugbear, that had the head of a Wolf, and a body like that of a Crocodile, It was a good while ere he durst come near it; but seeing that the Monster stirred not, he presumed to give it a blow, with his sword. Carmelin cast at it a piece of his armour that he found, so that the Engine began to shake, it being fastened on one foot, and consequently easily moved. The motion of it put our two Warriors into such a fear, that they thought it lived; and yet Lysis was so courageous that he laid on still, till such time as he had brought it to the ground, and made it immovable. His charges were so home, that the body of the Monster, which was but of rotten Canvas, burst in divers places, whereat came out moss, hay, foul paper and rags, which Lysis was so amazed at; that he cried out, See here, Carmelin, what lewd entrails come out of the body of this hideous beast: methinks we are poisoned with them. On my soul, they are nothing but rags, says Carmelin; do you not see them? Thou art in the right, says Lysis; but that is it makes me wonder the more, when I consider that Spirits have sometimes animated this Engine stuffed with filth, for to deceive men. It may also well be, that this was a true Dragon, but that all these tatters come out of its body, as we see bewitched people vomit coals, pieces of glass, inkhorns, and such trumpery. Honest Lysander assures us it is so, in his history, which the gentle D' Audiguier hath composed. There came such things out of his body, when he was dressed by charms of some wounds he had received in a Combat.  
While the two Champions were viewing the hideous body of the Monster, a sad voice comes to their ears, shall I never be delivered out of the captivity wherein I am? says it; when will the most illustrious valour in the world be employed for my relief? Lysis presently conceived it was Pamphilia spoke; and pitying her misery, he with his foot made at a little door, which seemed to be that of the prison. It opened presently, and in a little Cellar, he found a desolate Maid, whom he took for Meliantes' Mistress. 'Twas a youth disguised for that purpose, who could act his part very well. He cast himself at Lysis' feet assoon as he saw him; and embracing his knees, called him her deliverer. Lysis made the fair Lady rise, and taking her by the hand, bid Carmelin take a candle to light them out of the darkness of the Prison. Pamphilia made as if she trembled as she went; so that Lysis for her greater confidence, told her, that he had killed all her Jailers, and that she need not fear to fall into their hands any more. As they went through low rooms, and stumbled against some householdstuff that lay in their way. Hircan disguised as before, appeared again, and with the same voice said to them, Follow me incomparable Heroes, I will bring you hence safely. Having so said, he led them to the Coach, whereinto also entered the fair Pamphilia: he afterwards made fast the boots with chains; and being returned to his companions, they all put on their ordinary clothes, got on horseback, and returned with him to his Castle, where they presently went to bed to rest themselves a little. In the mean time Hircans Coachman having kept the Adventurers three or four hours in the Coach, put the horses into it, and brought them to his Masters; according to the command he had received. When the coach moved not from the place, Lysis thought still it went through the air; and when it began to make a noise, he then thought it was on firm ground, and that it would not be long ere they came to Hircans house. As indeed a little while after, the boot being unchained and opened, he found himself in a Court he was well enough acquainted with. Carmelin being come out of the coach with him, they helped out Pamphilia, and led her to Hircans chamber, who was a bed with Meliantes. Welcome be the generous Heroes, who have delivered Pamphilia out of prison, cried out the Magician: Rise Meliantes to give them thanks. Upon that Meliantes put on a night gown, and went and embraced them with a many compliments. He afterwards turned to Pamphilia, whom he entertained with a many caresses, and much Courtship. She was no longer cruel to him, since his past services, and the care he had had of her deliverance out of captivity had softened her heart towards him. Hircan in the mean time having put on his clothes, caused to be brought him two crowns of Laurel, whereof he put one on Lysis' head, having taken away the head-piece, and the other on Carmelins. Think you I will be content with this hat? says Carmelin, it will keep off neither the cold nor the rain, let me have my own, which I left off to take a rotten head-piece. It's a long time since I have been bareheaded. Thy head is well enough covered for a Conqueror, says Hircan: ask thy Master, if the pictures of all Heroes, are not as thine is now. Let my picture be drawn all naked, if you please, but for my own true body, I should have it clothed Cap-a-pe.  
Lysis seeing that Carmelin would not hear of accommodating himself in an heroic manner as he was, permitted he might have his hat: which when he had, he put the Lawrel-crown about it like a hatband, which looked very prettily. Philiris, Polidor, Fontenay and Clarimond upon this came into the room, and made great acclamations of joy for the happy return of the valorous Shepherds. Lysis was entreated to relate the divers fortunes he had run through; who seeing they were all dressed, and expected the story, began in this manner.  

The MAGICAL Adventures of LYSIS.  
YOu are then to know, courteous Presence, that our coach being parted hence, we were nothing astonished while it went on firm ground; but when it went through the air, 'twas then that I had a hard task to assure Carmelin; for we heard the winds blowing, the thunder whirling, and the sea tossing up her waves, even to the clouds. But at last we were as quiet, as if we would have reposed ourselves a little; when there comes a sage old man, who opening the boot, led us into a mountain to recreate ourselves, where we stayed sometime. I am not certain whether we were in an Island, or whether this Magician was Hircans friend, whom he had spoken to us of: But so it is, that he brought us into a Grot, which shined all over, by the Diamonds and Carbuncles wherewith the walls were all covered over; and having laid a white cloth on a black marble table, there were served up ten or twelve dishes of meat, whereon we fed till we were satisfied; and we drank of such a delicate wine, that I think Nectar is not more. Carmelin was so ravished at it, that he confessed he never had been so entertained. I pray bate so much of your Bill, says Carmelin, all you say is false, under correction of the company: Do not say that I made such a good meal with you, I have not eaten a bit since I went hence. How shouldst thou live then? replies Lysis very angrily: it's at least fifteen days since we went hence; hast thou lived all this while without eating? Well, impudence, were it not out of respect to those who are present, I would chastise thee as thou deservest; but I must not interrupt my discourse for so small a matter as thee.  
This Company than is to know, that the old man having made us both eat, without disarming us, carried us into a garden, where the Gods seemed to have married together the Spring and Autumn; for there shined a clear Sun without heat, and yet the fruits on the trees were ripe, and in the Level all sorts of flowers. As for Summer and Winter, I think they were eternally banished thence, and that the one was gone to burn up Mauritania, the other to freeze up Scythia. The place was inhabited by great yellow and green Birds, which had the charge to cultivate it: Some with their bills pruned off their superfluous branches, and others lopped off and levelled the hedg-rows; there were some that brought water in little shells to water the Plants, and others made Posies. But that which was most to be admired, was, that they spoke like men, and told one another what ought to be done with much ratiocination. I learned of them some constitutions of their Republic, and they brought me to see their she's and their young ones: I also saw all their provisions, and heard them sing certain airs which they used to make themselves merry with on their days of recreation. So that I swore to them, that I wished with all my heart I had been metamorphosed into a Bird, that I might have led such a pleasant life as theirs. They answered, it was not so pleasant as I thought it; for though they were in a very delightful place, yet had they not much joy in it, when they considered it was the place of their captivity, and that they were only Tenants, and not the owners of it, and that it belonged to certain men, whom I might see if I would go a little further.  
I went so far, that I came to their walls, which were so high that they were not able to fly over them; and my Conductor having opened a little door, I passed through with him and Carmelin. We saw a field that was very dry and very sandy, wherein were men stark naked, who had on their bodies neither flesh nor fat, and were only covered with a skin transparent as oiled paper: A man could see through it their bones, their veins, their sinews, their muscles, and their entrails; so that for to learn Anatomy, he needed but look on them. Their Hearts were most cleery seen, as also what was imprinted in them: As for example, in one you might see the countenance of some fair Lady, who was his Mistress; and in another, a great heap of silver which he adored as his God. There was also to be seen an Hieroglyphical figure of the words they were to speak, from the stomach to the throat; and by reason they had no hair, 'twas easily perceived what strange imaginations they had in their brains, which they disposed there under several representations of divers colours. Though my guide laughed at them, yet I thought their conversation very pleasant, and was sorry to leave them. They came very confidently near me; but they kept off from Carmelin, because he was armed, and that they feared lest he might come and embrace them, or so much as touch them as he passed by, lest it should grate off their delicate skin. I should have been very glad to have lived among men that could not conceal what they thought, though they should desire it; but the old man told me that should I but see their wives, which sex I loved better than the masculine, I should soon hate that people, for they were not of the humour to be willing that men should be acquainted with their affairs; and having their bodies Diaphanous as their husbands, they put gown upon gown for to hide it, that their fantastical imaginations might not be seen. To satisfy my curiosity, he brought me to a Furnace under ground, where those people put their children to make them transparent as themselves, for they were not so from the mother's womb. I put my finger into the fire, to see if it were hot; and Carmelin would do the like: but it burned so, that we were fain to pull them out immediately. If you will know the truth, look on mine and Carmelin's right hand.  
Clarimond and some others looked on their hands, whereon they found certain rednesses which were there by chance; so that every one said that Lysis was to be believed in whatsoever he said. Yet Carmelin did nothing but grumble, as if he had a mind to contradict all his Master said.  
Walking on still with the old man, continued Lysis, I came to a River; which though it was very clear, yet was it not more transparent than the bodies I had seen. My Guide having invited me to cross it, I asked whether there were either any boat or bridge. Come over this bridge, said he to me smiling; and I presently saw him going through the air upon the water: I told him I could not do the like, but he came and took me by the hand, and Carmelin also; and making us go the same way as he did himself, we were amazed to find resistance under our feet, as if we had gone on firm ground, whereas we thought we had passed through the air. My eyes at length being more cleared up, I perceived we were on a crystal bridge, which was so clear, that a man could not discern it from the water. Carmelin still ignorant of what it was, came forwards extreme fearfully.  
At the end of this bridge, there stood a Tower, the walls whereof were of glass, solid enough, and transparent enough; but as to the walks on them, they, as as well as the bridge were of crystal so transparent, that being out of curiosity gotten up on them, I durst not walk thereon, imagining there were none at all, because being on high, I could see the ground below toward the foundation. I understood, that that was one of the marches of the Country of the Diaphanous people; and having walked yet another half hour with the old man, I came to a very barren Champion. We have walked a long time, said he to me, I must now have you to a collation in a magnificient palace, which I have here: I thought he had jeered me; for I saw no building, and yet I took it patiently from him. But he seeing I answered not, I think, said he, you doubt of my power; you shall see the effects of it. Turning myself presently about towards the east, south, west and north, I saw that from each quarter there came a great side of wall: These four flying pieces of building meeting together, made up but one edifice, which was a fair spacious Hall, in the midst whereof we found ourselves: immediately after, there fell down upon that a roof, like that of a Banqueting house, on the top whereof there was a glassen Turret to let in the light. While I lift up my head to look on it, I perceived not the starting up of a round table, and three chairs at my feet: Carmelin took notice of it, as having his understanding fixed on those things which concern the reparation of his substance. He presently told me of it: Here's a fair table, said he, but it were better it did not appear so fair. 'Twere a greater credit to the Master of it, if it were well covered. Let's sit about it however, says the old man, my servants will bring us somewhat presently. I thought this Magician did still nothing but abuse us, and looking about the hall, I could perceive no body; the walls only were hung with the richest sort of Tapestry, behind which I knew not but his servants might be hidden. Hola! my Lads there! cries out the Magician, you make us stay long: Is there no meat in the house? I was then looking on the story that was represented in the hangings, which was the marriage of some Roman Emperor, and methought I saw all the persons stirring, and a many slaves who were serving up dishes on their Master's table, came out of the hangings, and walked up and down the hall, as if they had been alive, and came and brought us what they had in their hands. To make it appear it was no feigned thing, that piece of the Tapestry whence they came out was empty, and there remained only the Canvas; so that they were men of silk and wool that served us. I never had seen such attendants; and when the old man prayed me to eat what was on the table: I told him I knew not how to eat hangings. It's very excellent hangings, replied pleasantly Carmelin; I have tasted the corner of a cake, which was so delicious, that I wish to God all the rest may be like it, there would be striving who should have most. He persuaded me so far, that I eat of a Tart made of herbs, and certain sweetmeats, which I found very excellent. Thirst forced me also to ask for drink of the Roman slaves. They brought me a wine so delicious, that it made me forget the taste of that I had drunk with the old man in the Grot. As for Carmelin, he drank above ten times, and because the slaves took the flagons of wine out of a buffet in the Tapestry: Ha! would he say every foot; now it may be easily seen that this is Tapistry-wine. It slides down the throat by threads smaller than those of gold and silk.  
This good companion was so frolic, that he would say to me, Master, let us even leave Meliantes and his fair enchanted Mistress: Let's here accomplish our adventure; if you value my advice any thing you will stay here, servants will cost us nothing to maintain, and the meat will stand us in nothing, all will come out of the Tapestry. Dost thou think this good fortune can last long? replied I: we have already eat up all the provisions that was brought hither, and I know not whether those grave Roman Senators, whom I see at table in the tapestry, will not be angry with us. We have diverted their slaves from serving them, and we have made good cheer of what was provided for them. It's a long time they have waited there, and the second course is not yet come; I believe they grow somewhat out of patience, and will not vouchsafe to taste of what's before them. They shall not want what is necessary for them, says the Magician to me; and they will never be so uncivil as to be angry at us. That they are now so quiet and silent, 'tis because they are consulting about some great warlike expedition, which they are to undertake, Besides, should you stay here a hundred years, you should not want any thing; but I am sorry I can no longer enjoy such guests. As he said this, the slaves took away our dishes, glasses and bottles, and with all, that equipage went again into the Tapestry, which seemed so strange to me, that I yet feel an amazement of it in myself. The roof of the hall raised itself up, and fled into heaven, and our table sunk into the ground, and then our four walls returned to the four quarters of the world. Our coach we found in the Champion, and being gotten into it with Carmelin, I thanked the old man for all his civilities. He made all fast as it was before; and I believe the horses presently took their flight: but we set ourselves to sleep till such time as another old man came and advertised us that we were in Pamphilia's prison. We were by him led through places so hideous and full of darkness, that Hercules himself would there have lost somewhat of his confidence.   
This is indeed the place where you begin to tell the truth (says Carmelin, who could hold his tongue no longer) 'Tis true, that a grave old man brought us out of the coach, to carry us into the prison; but before this we had not seen any at all, nor know I any thing of all the adventures wherein you engage me. You dreamt them likely when you slept in the coach; and as men's dreams have no relation, though they rest in the same place, so my mind hath not been entertained with any such imaginations. I pray excuse me, if I speak freely; but of all you have related, nothing troubles me more than what you say of my feasting with so much gluttony, I am at this present hungrier than a Huntsman; and I protest to you once more, as I did before, that nothing entered my body, nor nothing hath gone through it since we went from this place. And to take away all controversy, I proffer to ease myself in any place, and those that are skilled in such matters, shall judge whether I have returned what I ate when I last supped here, or some more exquisite stuff. After the eating of so much enchanted Tapestry, I must needs send downwards fine skains of silk and yarn, or rather fair twists of gold: I would it were so, 'twould be a great credit to me, 'twould be said I disburdened myself of gold, and not any filthy excrement.  
Peace Carmelin, says Hircan, thy discourse and wit is obscene; thou thinkst thou art now with thy sick Hypocondriake Master, who knew the weight and measure of all thy stools. Whatever thou canst say, Lysis is rather to be believed than thou; and the company entreats thee not to interrupt his relation any farther. Carmelin being tied up to silence, which the rest keeping also, his Master continued his discourse in this manner:  
The old man having left us, we were in a Cellar, where there was light, but only so much as to let us see the most horrible things in the world, and so to terrify us. There presented themselves unto us two Giants, who were so big, that I know not how they did not thrust up the roof, when they lifted up their heads. Sometimes, which was the thing most to be admired, they became as little as we, to recollect their forces as may be conceived; and though they had no arms, yet did they annoy us much, by running against us. However, I made a shift to rout them; and afterwards I had no more work but to fight with two knappy fellows, that fell on us with swords in their hands. At every blow they had at my head-piece, I think it made more sparkles then an iron red hot, which the Smith beats on the Anvil: For my part, I could not get my sword out of the Scabbard, yet did it not hinder but I gave them terrible blows. Why had I not a Club, with so many iron spikes in it, as that of Hercules? Or why had I not a half Pike, as I desired of Hircan at my departure? He swore to me I should have no need of it; but yet if I had had one, it would have done me service; my enemies should not have stood it out so long. I remember that in your prophecy Hircan, you said, that, The Dove should be covered with Eagles feathers, and that it should destroy the Falcons; I believe that I am that Dove without gall, who am become an Eagle; and questionless the Falcons which I have destroyed are my enemies. You also said, that the Clowns jump should be changed into a Corslet. This is fulfilled in Carmelin, and in me also, for this Guard-coat is as good as a Corslet. It followed, that the string that hangs the Scrip, should be changed into a sword's belt; that also is come to pass in me: but when I find that the Sheephook should be changed into a half Pike, and that there is nothing accomplished as to that point, methinks there is somewhat wanting in the Adventure.  
You must not be so scrupulous, says Hircan, Prophecies are not always taken literally. I said all that by a figure, it suffices that of a Shepherd, you are become a man of arms, and that according to my promise you have delivered Pamphilia out of Prison.  
I will then go on with my relation, as being extremely satisfied, replies Lysis: Though I defended myself the best I could against the hulchbacked Soldiers, yet was I so unfortunate, and Carmelin too, that we both fell down, having stumbled against some stones that were under our feet. The hulchbacked Knaps presently came upon us, and knowing we were invulnerable, they imagined there was no other way to make us die, but to choke us. They would drive the souls out of our bodies by some new secret; for they pulled us by the noses as hard as ever they could, that it might drop out with wiping them, since it could not go out at any wound. At last we gave them each of us such a shock, that they were forced to leave us. This done, we perceived a Dragon, which though it was a terrible sight, yet I made towards it, and notwithstanding its hard scaliness, I gave him a great wound on the back, whereof he died. That done, I went into a Dungeon, where Pamphilia was, whom I brought out of those subterraneous places; and by doubtful ways led her to the coach, with the help of the Magician, whom I met again.  
But now Meliantes is to know, that I bring him his Mistress as chaste as I found her, & though she hath been locked up with two men, she hath been no more touched than if she had been among statues: For my part, I did not so much as speak to her, lest she should suspect I would corrupt her; and the remembrance of Charite fortified me against any loose desires that should assault me. As for Carmelin, because he was an inconstant person, I prevented him as much I could possible from meddling any thing; and I think carried all things so well, that she hath no cause to complain. She will tell you how I disposed her behind, and Carmelin before, and myself in the boot, to be between them.  
Lysis having thus ended his discourse, there was none but confessed in himself, that the relation was excellent; and that though there were some that knew most accidents in the adventure, yet was his description of it so natural, that he graced the business more than was imagined. As for his dream of enchantments, every one admired its variety. Meliantes renewed his thanks, but they were interrupted by Carmelin; who comes and says, And shall I have no thanks? or is it conceived I have suffered nothing? Can I suffer that my Master should darken my reputation, by laying incontinence to my charge? The ill opinion he hath of thee, says Clarimond, is but an illusion. That is not all neither, continues Carmelin, I would not that in the relation of his victory over the Monsters, he make you believe he hath done all himself: Should he speak on his honour and his oath, and if he were to lift up his hand, he will not deny, but I have helped him much. I acknowledge thou art the true companion of my travels, saith Lysis; if I am Hercules, thou art my Euristeus; if I am Theseus, thou art my Pirithous. Excuse me, if I have forgotten thy assistance, it being in so extraordinary a manner; which was, thou hast shown thyself as valiant in casting away thy arms, as others are in keeping them. If I shall one day have draughts or statues to represent my story, assure thyself thou shalt not be forgotten there, but shalt be put in a very good posture. Yet now I think on't, when our enemies were vanquished, there would have been no danger to have taken up thy arms again, and brought them hither; for if some cunning knave find them, he will give it abroad, that it was thou wert defeated. It also reputes me we have not brought with us whatever we might have found of booty from the Monsters we fought with, which might have been visible testimonies of our valour to all the world. We should have carried away the drummer of the Crump-backed Soldiers, and the entrails of the enchanted Dragon, of which might have been raised a Trophy upon the top of a pike, before this Castle. Our horses would not have fled so cheerfully, had they had such a weight to draw, says Carmelin: Le's then content ourselves with what is done, replies Lysis; but if ever Meliantes pass by the enchanted Island, I would desire him to raise a Pyramid to our sempiternal glory.  
After some other discourses, Hircan invited the company into the Hall to dinner. They all came except Pamphilia, who vanished away, because the Lad that acted that part was in haste to put on his former clothes. Lysis asked Meliantes what he had done with his Mistress. He answered, that he locked her up into a chamber, whither was brought her what she wanted, until such time as they should return into their Country, because she was much given to a solitary life.  
In the afternoon Orontes, Anselm and Montenor came to Hircans: Lysis had still on his Heroic habit, which seemed to them the most pleasant thing in the world; but it was better sport to them to hear him and Carmelin briefly relate their several adventures. But such discourses ended, Lysis remembered him to ask whether the Parisian Ambassadors were not yet returned? and if that great number of Shepherds of whom they had brought intelligence were not yet come. The Ambassadors are departed, replies Orontes; but we have heard nothing of them since; and I know not what hindrance hath met with so many honourable Shepherds as were to come hither. I wonder they are not here, says Lysis, I have been hence at least fifteen days upon my adventure to the enchanted Castle; for the hours passed away as fast as minutes in Hircans coach. Have they haply had notice of my absence? O God how dangerous is it to be distant from a people a man is to govern: corruption and change seizeth all things, now I perceive it well; for even Orontes is grown loose, and hath quitted the Shepherd's habit, to put on that of a Gentleman. You have done as much yourself, says Orontes; are not you in a habit disconformable to your quality? There was a necessity I should take it, replies Lysis; and I promise thee, though many think it becomes me well, to quit it to morrow, and to put on the Pastoral; for it suffices that I am seen one day in this Country clad like a Heros, to show that I am such a one, and will be so as long as I please, and that I do not turn Shepherd, but to enjoy my mind in greater serenity. You will also give me leave, says Orontes to keep on the clothes I am in for this day, and for some days to come; for I intent to go a hunting, and I conceive myself well enough clad like a Huntsman. Your reason's not amiss, says Lysis; besides, hunting is an exercise which is not forbidden Shepherds; and for what concerns the Heroes all books acquaint us they are generally given to it: The habit I have on suits me well enough to go a hunting with you; all that are present, if they please, shall be of the match.  
Every one subscribed to Lysis his Proposition, and Hircan, Orontes, Anselm Montenor and Clarimond cheerfully got on horseback; but as for Fontenay, Philiris, Meliantes and Polidor, who were in Shepherd's habit, Lysis would by no means permit them to ride, if they had not riding Coats to hide their Pastoral habit, which in his opinion suited not well with a Cavaliers. As for his own part, since he was clad like a Commander in chief of Antiquity, he made no scruple to get on horseback, as he had sometimes before. He would have no other arms then a Hunting pole, which was to serve him instead of a dart; and he would openly wish it were the dart of Shafalus, that never missed the prey. He was of opinion, that if he had such a one, he would more judiciously use it then that miserable Huntsman did, and that he would not kill his own dear half with it, because he would not have been so rash as to cast it, before he had first seen the beast he would dispatch. He was a long time considering whether he should keep on his buskins, or put on his boots and spurs. At length he concluded himself well enough accommodated; and remembering he had seen a many ancient Knights painted without stirrupts, he would have his taken off. 'Twas a great consultation whether he should have a hat or no, or whether he should only keep on his crown of Laurel. That was enough to make him alight, and return to Hircans chamber, where there was a book of Pictures, among which he saw divers Captains without hat or cap, or bonnet, and only crowned with Laurel. He came back again fully resolved not to change his dressing, though Philiris spoke to him to this purpose: 'Tis true, Lysis, says he, that in Tapestry and Pictures you may see a Roman Emperor in the midst of his Army without helmet or head-piece, having on his head a simple Crown of Laurel; but that is not that they are truly so. What advantage were it to them, they would not be as well armed as the common soldiers, and at the first blow they might receive dangerous wounds in the head? But the reason of all is, that the Painters do oftentimes go from the history, and take the liberty of their Art, and paint a man bareheaded and crowned with Laurel, that he as being Emperor may be known from the rest, though it is not to be supposed he always wears such a Crown.  
This discourse hindered not Lysis to remain in the same posture he was in; so that the hunters without any further contestation set out from Hircan's Castle, leaving Carmelin behind, who would by no means ride and take so much pains for a wretched beast. Lysis asked for the Kennel of Hounds, the Nets and Snares, and whether the preparation were not as great as that of King Diceus in Francias. They showed him some Greyhounds, and told him their design was only to course a Hare. What have you put me to the pains to get on horseback for so small a matter? said he; think you that I'll trouble myself to pursue a fearful creature? That employment must be for the delicate Venus, who dares not deal with any dangerous beast. I remember the admonitions she gave Adonis, and I know what misfortune happened to him for not believing her: yet for all this will I not stick to hunt after the most furious creatures. Am not I who have defeated Giants, Monsters, and Dragons, a stouter man than that little Wanton? Hunt your Hares as long as you will; for my part, I'll go to the side of a mountain, and stay till a roaring Lion come out, as the young Ascanius does in Virgil. You consider not that you are not now in Africa, says Clarimond, there are no Lions here: But Virgil in another place does as much as you do, for he makes Aenaeas hunt Stags as if he had been in Europe. I do not think they are so easily found in that Country, especially in such numbers as he mentions. But alas, honest Virgil was in Italy when he writ this, and thought Aenaeas was there too. If I cannot find Lions in this Country, replies Lysis, I shall at least meet with some Boar, as furious as that of Erimanthus; it shall be against him that I'll try my force. You should then have your Atalanta here, says Clarimond.  
In the mean of this discourse, the dogs started a hare, which they pursued over the fallow of a little valley. The hunters followed; and Lysis not knowing what to do with himself if he kept them not company, went after them, partly with his will, partly against it; because his horse, which he could not guide as he pleased, would carry him to the rest, by a custom he had. The course was so violent, that the poor Hero could not keep his crown of Laurel from falling, and could not hinder but that the wind blowing up the napkin he had about his shoulders instead of a scarf, it covered all his head. His amazement increased by the shocks he at the same time received; so that he let fall his hunting-pole, and embraced his horse's neck, for fear of falling. The huntsmen having taken their pleasures a while to see him in that posture, bid a Lackey stay his Courser and set him aright. A while after the Hare was caught, and Orontes had a mind to carry the company to his house which was not far off. 'Twas an incomparable pleasure to Florida, Leonora, and Angelica, to see Lysis as he then was: his thighs and legs were one half naked, and his arms bare, but embroidered in some places with a certain scurf which might well pass for the itch; nor wanted there a little nastiness, that the variety might make the better show: As for his Guard-coat, it was such a good one as your Paris-Brokers use to hire out to Prentices when they revel it on Shrove-Tuesday.  
Hircan in few words told the Ladies what dangers the Shepherd had run through since they had seen him; which made up the miracle. In the mean time Lysis being very desirous to show himself to his Mistress in his heroic habit, looked for her all over the house: Nay he went into the garden, and came to a little Grove, where finding a very fair Elder-tree, he resolved to write somewhat on the bark of it; but having no knife about him, he went and borrowed the Gardeners. He first of all cut his Mistress' name, and then his own. Clarimond and Philiris having surprised him in this employment, thought him engaged in an excellent design; but he told them he had more than that to do, and that he had long before composed a discourse purposely to grave upon a Tree, when he should meet with the opportunity. You must let us hear that discourse, says Philiris, we have not the patience to stay till it be written; besides that it will not be amiss to tell it us before, it may be our advice may do somewhat; for whosoever puts any things abroad, is glad to have the judgement of his friends in it. 'Tis rationally spoken, replied Lysis: hear then what I intent to put.  
Fair Tree! will I say; since thou art ordained to be the ordinary paper of the Lovers of this country, do that courtesy now for the faithfullest Shepherd that ever carried sheephook: Receive into thy bark the divine characters which compose the name of my fairest Mistress, and permit also that I therein minute my sorrows, that thou mayst one day show them to her who is the cause thereof, when she comes to repose herself under thy shade. Mayst thou every year grow a fathom, and may the letters thou bearest grow with thee, so that our ancient Graziers may discern them at half a league without spectacles.  
That's very handsome as you speak it, says Clarimond; but I do not think you can make this tree contain it all. Why not, replies Lysis; I have read a certain book, called Carithea, wherein there is mentioned a Shepherd that had written on a poplar, a discourse six times as long as mine. You are in the right replies Clarimond; I have read that book as well as you. That discourse is so long, that though a man should write from the top to the bottom, and not exempt the branches nor the leaves, I do not think it would contain all; for you know, that for to make the Letters legible and discernible, they must be made somewhat big. But what? these are the greatest ornaments of our Romances; and you shall commonly find those that cut entire Odes upon trees, though there would be much ado to write a Sonnet. A man does not so ordinarily meet with barks so large and proper, and the most can be done is to grave some Character, or little Emblem. I wonder so many Authors are drawn into such impossibilities, and that in those things whereof they were as easily convinced as desire it. A man would think, they had never seen Trees, or never stirred out of Prison: but the reason of it, is their own stupidity, which makes them not consider those things that continually present themselves before their eyes; and because they who went before them, said that Lovers writ long discourses on the barks of Trees, they are easily carried away to put such things into their Histories, for want of other invention. But that which is yet more pleasant, is, that this must be graved in a moment, as if it were as easy as to write on paper. They in the mean time consider not, that fifteen days were not enough to form so many Characters, and that so well that every one must read them as they feign; for they say that sometimes by the draught, it was known whose the writing was. There's yet another strange thing they do; though all those discourses be composed as well as might be, yet will they have it believed that their Lovers made them on a sudden. They will also introduce men answering one another in verse, without any previous studying of what they should say; and their Love-Letters, they make them dispatch presently. This is a very wonderful thing; for 'tis known that they themselves who should be greater Clerks than those whose loves they describe, and do esteem themselves far beyond them, would gladly turn Hermits to be at leisure to adorn one period; and that there's no Carrier so slow, but would in the mean time go twice to Rome. There's reason for what you say, interrupts Philiris; though these Authors make such long things, be graved on trees, yet are they read with pleasure, taking them for fictions; and as for the Letters and Verses which a Lover makes on a sudden, so that they be well done men are satisfied, and no body is so scrupulous as you are; on the contrary, people enter into greater admiration, seeing those that are in love have such smart and lively fancies, and the history is thereby made more pleasant. You shall have it, says Clarimond, you are then of those who finding in a Romance something irrational and contrary to custom, imagine it makes the adventure fuller of miracle. Hold thy peace Clarimond, says Lysis, thou art nothing but a spirit of contradiction; I am more taken with Philiris: He hath spoken so well in the defence of Love-stories, that I could have said no more myself. I thank you for this honour, says Philiris; but yet I advise you not to trouble yourself with graving your discourse on the tree, lest you might not succeed, and so give Clarimond occasion to laugh at us. Besides, there is one very considerable thing I am to tell you; 'Tis no good presage to write your passion on a bark, because it might be thence inferred, that your Love were only graved on the bark of your heart, and that you should never grave it any further on the heart of Charite. This hath a show of reason, replies Lysis; and yet there is in it somewhat hurts me. What manner of speaking's this? says Clarimond: Are you dashed against the edge of some Rock, or hath some Bull shown you the discourtesy of his horns? or hath your friend Philiris some so great, that he bushes at all the world? What a little is it which thou knowest, replies Lysis: Thou wert never acquainted with the ingenuities of France, since thou art ignorant, that when we are not satisfied with a Fancy, we say it clashes; not that this is done visibly, and that it hurts us in the body; for being purely spiritual, it can only touch the mind. Now we are much better, says Clarimond; I would fain know what you mean by the word Fancy. 'Tis true, that to accommodate myself to your humour, I have often spoken of these fine Fancies as well as you; but it troubled me so much, that I could no longer stay the discovery of it to you. Tell me now, were it not a crime among your Poets to say conception? Is that word out of use with them, lest it might be thought they spoke of the conception of a woman?  
I do not except against the word conception, replies Lysis, it seems to represent the thing when it is conceived; but the word Fancy is more general, for it signifies all things which we can think of or imagine. Yet I confess I thought it strange the first time I saw it used, because there's no such language in the University, and I am somewhat trouble to use myself to it. As for conceits, every one knows what they are; that it is properly a slight winding up and down of words, or an allusion, or some such thing, You are in the right there, says Clarimond: but as to a fancy, I take it to be a thing which the Poet imagines for the ornament of his discourse, as if you should say, My Mistress ' rose so betimes, that Aurora out of bashfulness returned, thinking she had lain a-bed longer than the Sun. 'Tis well known there's no such thing; and the Poet only fancies it, and therefore that aught to be called a Fancy, and that's all can be conceived of all other fantastical imaginations that may have their birth in a hollow brain. And this is a definition of Fancy, which the Poets of these times would think themselves happy to know; for I have sometimes put them hard to it, when I asked them difference between a conception, a fancy, and a conceit. Some told me there was not any, others gave me very poor and irrational differences, and some would give me no answer at all.  
As Clarimond ended this discourse, the rest of the company came into the place: So that he took occasion to say, Wherein is it the pleasure of these fair Ladies, that we pass away the day? What entertainment shall we fix upon? For my part, my vote is for playing at Fancy-game, for it's a good while that Lysis talks to me of nothing else. I'll tell you what the game is: There shall be one to ask the rest, What do you think on? or what is your Fancy? And every one tells him his thought. Then says he, Such a one hath thought such a thing, 'tis for such and such reason; and so he is to give the most pleasant reasons he can find of all things, to make the company sport. There's no great subtlety in that, replies Lysis, I know some more gentile sports, not to mention that of Love blinded: There's one wherein every one is obliged to give Epithets on every Letter of his Mistress' name; as if I should call Charite Chaste, Honest, Amiable, Rich, Incomparable, Triumphant, and Excellent. I have also seen excellent games in the Civil Conversation of Stephen Guazzo, and in the Courtier of Count Baltazard; for your Italians are ingenious in this above any other, and it may be said they sport it very seriously. There's required much ingenuity to meddle with their pastimes, and there's as much employment for judgement and reason, as if a man were in a Parliament where every man were to propose his advice. Let's have no more on't, Lysis, says Angelica: When people would recreate themselves, they must not make choice of the most difficult pastimes, the trouble would exceed the pleasure; let's content ourselves with Questions and Commands. The proposition is good, replies Philiris; and to advance and ennoble this sport equally with any other, the Commands shall be of things of importance.  
Every one promoted this opinion, so that Lysis was forced to submit to the plurality of voices. The company retired into an Arbour in the Garden, where the Game begun: Some were condemned to tell a story, others to tell how many Mistresses they had had; and it being come to Lysis his turn, they made him sing a Song. When it came to him to command, it happened Philiris was under his authority: He commanded him to choose a Lady, and entertain her as if she were his Mistress, and that he should more particularly describe her beauty with testimonies of an extreme passion. Philiris, who had a nimble wit, and knew all the pretty Love-conceits, was content; and having chosen Angelica for his Mistress, and cast himself on one knee before her, he made this discourse to her, with his hat in his hand.  
I am extremely glad, most incomparable Lady, that I have this present liberty to tell you what my heart is full of. There needed not a command to make me do that, which that I might be admitted to my prayers were ever ready. Though there are here a many persons, the diversity of whose inclinations I know not, yet shall it not hinder me from representing unto you the ardency of my affection, that so many witnesses may make you blush that you have been so long incredulous and ingrateful towards me. I know not whether you are ignorant of the perfections you are Mistress of; and if for that reason you think it impossible I should suffer under so much passion, yet whatever I hazard, can I not but once more give myself the satisfaction to represent unto you those excellent beauties wherewith you have ravished my soul. Those twists of gold which adorn your head, how graceful do they appear to those who desire such a noble captivity! they are able to chain up those things that never were so before; and if Jupiter were to use a golden chain to draw the Earth to him, as he pretends to do in Homer, he must needs make use of this. Under this I discover a Forehead so fair, that for to commend it I must not imitate their imagination, that Love made his residence there; for 'tis so smooth, that that fickle Child could not fix on it: 'tis on wrinkled foreheads that he hath the opportunity to erect his throne, and it must be thought that the several wrinkles are the steps whereby we ascend to his chair of state. But when he set his foot there, he slid into your Eyes, where he found his most certain retreat: but so it is, that whether with his will or against it, he must stay there, for he burned his wings as soon as ever he entered in. This is the reason that the wounds I receive when you look on me are so dangerous, and it may be clearly seen that a powerful Divinity is become the intelligence of those two bright stars which govern the course of my life. But what miracles do I find on your Cheeks! the complexion is white, but never pale, and the redness is never obscure. There is the same brightness on the coral upon your fair lips, which are the portals of the Temple of Eloquence. What shall I say of that neck and breast! but that it is a most extravagant imagination to compare them to Ivory and milk, since they have a quite different lustre. The Poets celebrate their Mount Parnassus, whereon there are twins of hills, and the tradition is, that he that hath slept thereon, becomes a consummate Poet; but it's to be conceived, that he that should enjoy those two little mounts which are on that fair breast, would be far more divinely inspired, either for Poesy or Eloquence. As for the rest of the body, where though the beauties must be eternally concealed, yet do I not doubt their perfection: And it must needs be great since it is honoured with the burden of that fair head, wherein I find so many miracles: It hath more glory to support that, than Atlas to sustain heaven; for here are far more divinities then in Jupiter's Palace. O how happy then must I esteem thee, amiable body, to have so fair a face! and thou fair face, to be so happy in such bright eyes! and you bright eyes to be so full of Charms and Attraction! But what's above all, how happy art thou fair body in the general, to be the lodging of the fairest soul in the world? Methinks I have still somewhat to say in thy praise, and that I have forgotten one part which I often see. I have not mentioned the ears, though near neighbours to the cheeks, and are umbraged by the hair with so much beauty. But why should I speak of those unmerciful things? 'tis from them proceeds the chiefest cause of my torment: They will not hear what I suffer, that so they might give an account to that divine spirit, which governs all the other senses. As long as they shall continue in this severity, I cannot but take them for my enemies; but if it happen they abate their rigour, I promise them to recompense and redeem the time I have not honoured them.  
I know not whether Philiris had something further to say; but there he stuck, as it had been to call to mind some other fine imagination to entertain Angelica: They were all very attentive to his discourse, which he delivered with a sweet accent, and a delightful gesture. Angelica herself was nothing troubled to hear herself so praised, though she blushed a little; and as for the Shepherd Lysis, he was so ravished, that he went and embraced the courteous Orator: speaking to him in these words; Dear Friend, what charms are there in thy discourses! how sweet and amorous is thy style! I promise thee quite to disengage Clarimond, and have no more to do with him, thou art far the fitter to compose my history.  
Philiris thanked the Shepherd for the honour he did him, and promised him his utmost services. As for Clarimond, he seeing himself disengaged, made a vow ever to contradict Lysis, and that in open Hostility. The talk which rise about this, broke off the sport, and thence they insensibly fell upon the strange exploits of Lysis and Carmelin. I have heard, says Leonora, the Story of Meliantes, whereby that Shepherd had shown how his Mistress was secured in a Fortress; and that besides she remembered all the particulars of her deliverance, as it had been related to her; but she had not been told the true cause of her captivity, nor who was the author of it. Lysis and Meliantes answered, that if she would be satisfied in that, she must address herself to Hircan, who knows the most secret things. The company having entreated him to tell what he knew of that business: He began thus, without any want of fabulous invention.  

The History of the Magician Anaximander.  
YOu are to know, dear Company, that in the Isle where Pamphilia was a captive, there is a Magician called Anaximander, who hath lived there these thirty years. It's no longer since he was born, as most believe, and yet he boasts himself to be the true Son of the Sorceress Circe: As for his father, he knew not his name, because his mother was somewhat common. This is not to make us believe that she lived to this age; that he expounds otherwise. He says, that when she was alive, two thousand years since, he having learned of this good mother all magical secrets, desired to live eternally on earth, and not go with her to heaven, nor yet to the Elysian fields, because he took greater pleasure to be here below. When he had examined all the receipts for renewing of age, he found none easier than that of exchanging of Bodies: He thought it not fit to desire one of his friends to kill him, and to take his body all to pieces, to form another stronger out of it; he was afraid somewhat should interrupt the operation, and that he might be left half made. A little Nephew of his being knocked in the head with a quoit, as he looked on his Comrades at play; he found a way to discharge his former body, and assume that of the child, which he afterwards animated to the great amazement of all the world, who thought him dead. Fourscore years after, another little child playing among others who carried him prisoner, and made as if they would put him to death, it happened his companions throttled him in good earnest, Anaximander made use again of that body: and so hath he done with divers others to this day, having the power to disengage his soul from this terrestrial mass, and fasten again as firmly, that it is equally fitted for the execution of all its functions, as any other. He drinks, he eats, he sleeps, he gets children, and yet is never sick. His soul takes up bodies, as travellers do Inns, where they are as well accommodated as at home. But one great advantage of his immortality is, that he hath been of all conditions, which he hath freely passed through, as they had been only parts of a Play; and so must needs know a many things which others are ignorant of. For the present, the government of the Isle where he lives is fallen into his hands, and because the place is very solitary, he delights much to study Magic: But as his inclination is extremely amorous, he looks much into an enchanted glass, wherein he sees the fairest women in all parts of the world. When any one pleases him, he transports himself into the Country where she remains, and then makes her be brought away by spirits to his Castle. There he enjoys her at his pleasure; but such is his lewdness, that when he hath done himself, he turns over to his slaves the beauties, which before he had chosen for the Mistresses of his soul. Yet I have it from a good hand, that his mother appeared to him a while since, and advised him to give over his lewd life; because if he would marry a certain Lady that was destined for him, he should have a son by her that should be more valiant than Cyrus or Alexander, and should bring him the conquest of the world. He asked his good mother, by what means he should know that fatal woman; and of a sudden Circe shows herself to him, as she was at the age of fifteen, and bid him view her well, because the woman he should have should be like her.  
He since confulted with his glass, and seeing Pamphilia in it, he imagined she was much like Circe; so that after he had saved her from shipwreck, and for pity sake her lover also, he sent two Giants to fetch her, as soon as she came within his Island. They are the same which Lysis' incomparable valour hath defeated. Meliantes thinking to relieve her, was divers times deceived; for the gate of Anaximanders' Castle had such an enchantment, that though he left it open, yet it shut of itself when any enemy came near it. As for the old man who appeared to him, and told him his Mistress was in a place whence he could not deliver her, but by the assistance of the French Shepherd; I acquaint you, that it was the same Hircan who now speaks to you: I had found out by my art, that one of the bravest Knights of Persia was in an extreme affliction, and that if I did succour him, he would one day be my intimate friend; so that I changed shape, and having found him, I put him into a sleep, and so transported him into this Country. He hath now obtained of Lysis what he desired. That invincible Heros hath been in the enchanted Fortress, whence he delivered Pamphilia as you know already.  
Anaximander having had this Beauty in his power, had made his applications to her, promising her great wonders, if she would be his wife. He was in hope she should bring forth that great Warrior, as Circe had promised; and he intended after he had conquered all the world, to make him away, and to enter into his body, that so he might himself be King of all the world. But Pamphilia calling to mind the merit and affection of Meliantes, could have none but him; and insultingly slighted him that had ravished her away. This he was so angry at, that he caused her to be put into a dungeon, where his two Giants guarded her with three or four hulchbacked Soldiers, and a terrestrial Dragon, a most hideous creature. Lysis went through all these, when he was in the prison; and that Anaxiander did not appear to hinder him to force his guards, 'twas I had cast him into a deeper sleep, then if he had been in the Palace of Sleep itself; for I cannot deny but it was I that brought Lysis and Carmelin out of the coach, and led them into the prison, and brought them back to the coach together with Pamphilia. I transport myself in an instant to what place I please, and I put on what shape I please. Now it was not for the worst that Pamphilia remained some time with Anaximander, for she was in the most secret place in the world, which was not amiss for her, because the King of Persia had made such diligent search for her, that had she been any where else, she had been certainly met with. Now there's nothing to fear; I know for certain that Siramnes is killed by one of his Eunuches: so that all those who were persecuted by him, may safely return into the Kingdom. A Nephew of his, who now bears the Sceptre, hath pardoned all Criminals, and hath recalled all banished persons, on condition they serve six years in the wars without pay. Now I suppose you are all satisfied, as having a perfect account of whatever was of importance in the captivity of Pamphilia.   
Hircan having spoken thus, the Ladies admired in themselves his vivacity of spirit, and were amazed to consider that he could invent such a sort of lies so readily. Lysis was out of himself to hear such great secrets, and Meliantes feigned to be no less. Florida asked him why he brought not his Mistress with him, which he excused upon her solitary humour. Angelica also asked what was become of Carmelin; and why he was not come to relate his acts of valour. Lysis answered, that he would not come a hunting with the rest. Polidor said at the same time, that his Cousin Meliantes was more happy than he, and by the relief done him, he had received his Mistress, whereas he for his part was far enough from his, and knew not whether he should ever obtain her favour. My intentions are more noble and more just than yours, replies Meliantes, and therefore heaven hath prospered them. I love a discreet and an honourable Lady, in whose service I think I do my duty to virtue itself: but you, you sigh for a Rhodogina, whom I have heard accounted as common as the highway. Dye confidently for her, since she causes you so much affliction; you will receive as great glory by it as ever had Quintus Curtius, for casting himself into the gulf at Rome, for you shall die for what is public.  
Polidor made as if he had been angry at these overfree words, but there passed no blows. Hircan appeased all; he told Meliantes he was deceived in his licentious opinion; and as for Polidor, he promised him, that assoon as he were returned to Persia, he should obtain the reward of his love, provided he brought Rhodogina the bark of the Hamadryad. He swore to him that he had enclosed that precious piece in a silver-box, and that he had been already gone, were it not for the inevitable charms of Lysis' conversation. You do well to stay here till such time as you are a perfect master of the art of Shepherdry, says the Hero-Shepherd, for so you willbe able to read Lectures to your Countrymen. 'Tis my design to bring up a many Youths in the same manner, that I may send them away afterwards, one into Turkey, another into Egypt, and so others into other places, to teach all the Earth the way to live happily. Now this Art of Shepherdry is not learned in a day, for it is the Art of all Arts; I mean it is the Mistress of all, and all other Arts and Sciences depend of it. For to be a good Shepherd, a man must be a good Orator, a good Poet, a good Musician, a good Painter, and a good Dancer; but above all things in the world he must know well how to Love.  
It was so late when this discourse ended, that Orontes was forced out of civility to invite the company to supper; and indeed it was not so easy to break it up, and quit such pleasant entertainments. After supper Lysis would needs made a party with Philiris, leaving some playing at Picquet, others discoursing. Dear friend, says he to this Shepherd, I must profess to thee that since the first time I saw thee, a certain fatality inspired me that thou shouldst write my History: Therefore that this inspiration may be effectual, I desire thee to set thyself to it; and do not think I expect any thing from Clarimond, who is but a troublesome and a railing fellow. If you think me able to serve you, I shall willingly undertake the employment, says Philiris, but I fear me I shall not satisfy you; for a man should be in the bottom of your thoughts to consider what you have there, and express those things which no man could besides him to whom they happened. Trouble not thyself for any thing, I will give thee sufficient instructions, says Lysis: This is not the first time that a Lover hath turned over the description of his Loves to another, wanting the convenience to do it himself; his passion either denying him the patience, or haply making another speak, that might give him those praises which he durst not give himself. 'Tis not long since that one of my acquaintance did the like. When he gave the Author directions, Let this Gentleman and that Lady, says he, be jealous one of another; let those two fight with such two, but let the more inconsiderable person be killed, for I have occasion for the other three in some following adventures, as being persons of more eminent quality. A while after you must have a Letter written to one of our most passionate Lovers, and then shall he entertain his Mistress with a Serenade; and the Music shall first be loud, and then descend to Bases and other Instruments to awaken all that are near, and after this let the Gentleman sing to the Lute, whereto shall answer a full Consort: let the Verses be sweet and polite, and let there be no fancies that shall touch at any.  
And thus did this Lover direct his Historiographer, and I doubt not but that great Clerk performed what was excellent: For it is he, that walking once with four or five of his friends, bespoke them thus: Let me have ten thousand men well armed, and let me be allowed three month's time, and I promise the King my master and his Princes my good friends, that by true acts of valour and by lawful stratagems I will conquer a Country shall be six hundred leagues about, and shall have a hundred Cities as strong and as well peopled as Orleans, besides all Towns and Castles. When will you do it, says somebody to him, shall we ever see it? where shall it be? In a Romance, replies he very confidently. That was an incomparable fellow; he maintained that he who was able to make a Romance, was able to do any thing: He's fit to be the General of an Army, a Chancellor, a Precedent, a Lover, and a Shepherd, if you please; for since he can make every one of these speak according to his quality, and can make them govern with all requisite observation of order, there's no question but he himself would very well discharge all those places if they were bestowed on him. But you do not tell us, interrupted Philiris, that he's as fit to be a Drummer as a Captain, and a Catchpole as well as a Judge: your Romancists do as well represent the lowest as the highest actions. Thou hast a mind to be merry, dear friend, replies Lysis; yet know our Author was a very able man, without any disparagement to thee or any other. To return to my discourse, if thou wilt write my history, I will give thee the conduct of it. I suppose thou mayst have gathered somewhat here and there of me already, but I shall tell thee much more; and now take it from the very beginning.  
In the first place thou shalt make me take the Shepherd's habit at St. Cloud, for there was the beginning of my noble adventures: And then thou must describe with what affection I contemplated those inconsiderable things which I preserved in remembrance of Charite, that is to say, the piece of Leather, the Paper, and the rest. Now here thou must make use of amplification, saying, that I so loved my Mistress, that I would not only preserve whatever came from her, but that I also made a vow carefully to keep whatever were about me when I had the happiness to speak to her, or receive any favour from her. As for example, if I chanced to go to see her where she lived, and that she entertained me favourably, my design was ever after to preserve, as a precious relic, my good and beloved Shoes which had brought me into so sacred a place. And this was in my thoughts ever since that time, though I never spoke of it. In the next place thou shalt bring in how I met Anselm, and gave him the story of my Youth, and acquainted him with the original of my Loves, which must be soon passed over: And then shalt thou mention that excellent Metaphorical Picture of my Mistress, which he drew at his house. 'Tis there that is required a triumph of eloquence: My advice is, that thou make use of divers Rhetorical figures, especially if thou make my affections relate to the colours of the draught and all that concerns it, thou wilt make a spiritual thing of a corporal. The Copper-piece, shalt thou say, is a rough metal, polished by the severity of Lysis' sufferings; the Gold that shines in it is his fidelity; the white is his purity and innocence: The flesh-colour that's in it, is his amorous inclination; the Fermilion his respectful shamefacedness; the black, his sadness and affliction; the blue, the divinity of his imaginations: The separation and division are banishments and optics; but as for shadow there's very little, because jealousy which is the causer of them, can find no place there. All these colours have been distempered with the oil of indulgence of a thousand attractions of love-looks, and beaten on the marble of constancy. This done, there may be used a handsome revocation, and thou mayest speak thus, The affection which Lysis bore Charite, made me believe a while that Lysis had himself furnished what was necessary for this picture; but I have understood since, that it was his desire it might be done with nobler things, at least as noble as could be found. There are those that say, there was no more left of the Brazen-Age than that Copper-piece, and that Lysis had purposely taken away that, being to pass out of the iron age into that of gold. As for the gold that glisters in Charite's eyes, and her chained tresses, 'tis certain that it is some of that into which Midas' wine was turned when he was to drink, after he had the gift of changing whatever he touched into gold; and it may be said by parenthesis, that that gold might easily be made potable. The white is the milk which Venus had in her breasts, when she nursed Cupid; for her milk was far better than Juno's, who was too choleric to be a nurse: As to the flesh-colour, we know not what to say to it, but at last we have imagined it made of Bacchus' sweat; for he being of a perfect red, as may be seen, his sweat is died by it, nay, his very tears are coloured thereby; and if there be no likelihood of this, it must be conceived that this flesh-colour is composed of some other.  
As for the Vermilion, 'tis the blood of the Goddess of Autumn, which is one of the four Seasons, who having a while since overheated herself, Esculapius was forced to let her blood; for in heaven he is both Doctor and Surgeon, and observes whatever is prescribed there. The black is Proserpina's Paint: For as in these Countries there's much pains bestowed to become white, so there she takes as much to make herself black, as being one of the most especial parts of beauty. The blue without question comes from Neptune's hair, which he cut off some days since, which by some rare secret hath been made liquid. As for the partitions, I believe good fortune made them, because nothing departs from us sooner: And as for the shadows. I believe the great Sun of the world, or those of Charite's eyes are the causers of them; for though the Sun be the giver of light, yet he cannot be without shades, but makes them assoon as ever any solid body opposes its beams. The oil wherewith all these colours have been distempered, is the very same wherewith Hercules anointed himself, when he was to wrestle at the Olympic Games. As for the marble whereon they were beaten, 'twas a piece of the first altar, which was erected to the Gods after the deluge. We had erewhiles forgot the shells to put these different colours in; but it must be thought Venus' shell was made use of, with the Eggshel of Loeda, and for the Pencils, they are made of Love's feathers, and his Mother's hair; this must be rather said, than they made use of any feathers of the wind Boreas: Lovers have not so much to do with him.  
When thou hast thus spoken of Charites Picture, dear Philiris, thou must bring in the Letter that I writ to her, which I will dictate to thee word for word. But here I must have a conceit which all the world knows not yet. Most part of your Romancists, when they introduce a man telling a Story, after they have made him say, I writ a Letter to my fairest, to this purpose, put down afterwards in Capital Letters, PHILIRIS' LETTER TO BASILIA, POLIDOR'S LETTER TO RHODOGINA; and so of others, and then the whole Letter at length. That's no way handsome, I like it not; as for example, if I should relate to you my history from one end to another, if I were to say I write a letter to Charite, which was to this purpose, must I pronounce aloud these words, LYSIS' LETTER TO CHARITE? that were ridiculous. As there's no necessity of reciting that title, so there's none to write it, unless it haply be in the margin, as an Annotation or Remark for the convenience of the Readers; but I have an incomparable invention to this purpose, when the book comes to be printed; it shall be thus, Being highly desirous to discover my affection to that fair one, I writ her this: here the line discontinues, and a little lower there shall be LETTER in a great character, and then the Letter follows. This shall serve for a title for the convenience of the Reader, and this shall nothing interrupt the System of the narration. In like manner may be said, This Gentleman, that Prince, that Lover or Shepherd, willing to lighten his passion by the charms of Poetry, on a sudden broke into these (and a little under) STANZA'S, and so the Verses afterwards. That Knight not being able to suffer such an affront from his Rival, sent him this (under it) CHALLENGE, with the discourse following. And this is an ingenious way to acquire reputation; nor is it a small fault to say, Polidor having obtained silence, began thus his History; and then afterterwards to make a great title of these words, THE HISTORY OF POLIDOR AND RHODOGINA, or some such thing; for Polidor being to tell his Story, will not pronounce that title aloud: 'Tis a folly to put it, and by that means to interrupt the discourse. 'Twere enough to put it in the margin, or make use of some invention like that beforementioned. Yet there are good Authors fail in this point; but I, who take from others but what is best, must freely reform what's amiss. When thou hast handsomely brought in my Letter, thou must tell by what means it came to Charite's hands; how I got up and laid it on her window, and fastened Garlands at the door; and then how I was carried away by Pirates, who yet kept me not long a captive, because they were Anselms Friends.  
I forgot the meeting with the satire, and many other particulars, which I shall give thee another time in order: As for what hath been done in this Country. I believe thou art in good part informed. Thou must put down the adventures I ran through when I was disguised like a Maid, and then thou shalt affirm for certain that I was Metamorphosed into a Tree, though divers hold the contrary. But as for those who shall be concerned in any of these accidents, my humble suit is they may be honourably treated, they must be considered according to the affection they bore me, that they may be worthily recompensed. Thou mayest add what loose pieces thou please to my history; as for example, the Loves of those of my acquaintance, it will make the work the more recommendable. Now I acquaint thee, that when thou art to say, I am in this place or that, when I am in any solitary place, it will not be amiss to say, I was making of Verses; for indeed, when I am alone, I do nothing but ruminate on them. Yet I permit thee to make some thyself to adorn the Narration, or to thrust in some old papers of thine, that so they may not be lost; for there are a many have composed Romances, on purpose to dispose of their ancient Poetry. I shall furnish thee with some of my own; and as for what shall come from thee, it must be purely an imitation of my style. I am in doubt whether we should bring in more Stanza's or Elegies. I know not whether is the better; They say that the making of Elegies, is like our ordinary walking; and the making of Stanza's in divers cadencies and measures is as it were dancing: so that the one is much harder than the other. There are others, replies Philiris, that say that the making of Stanza's is like the shifting of little birds from bough to bough, as being yet not fully fledged; but that the making of Elegies is the taking of a far flight, which is proper only for such birds as know their trade. These similitudes confound me, said Lysis; I know not whether I should believe, wherefore let there be of both as thou thinkst fit. These degressions have kept us from speaking of the principal things that concern us. Thou art to take notice, that before thou set thyself on work about my Loves, thou must for a long time go a hunting after fancies, that thou mayst be well provided on all occasions and subjects. As for thy style, it must be smooth and not rough, as that of some Writers of these times, in whose works a man cannot read three pages, without hazarding the skin of his throat, so far as would require above two ounces of Liquorish to make it whole again. But to aim at perfection, I think it were not fit to bring in twice in the same page, the word So●e, nor divers others which I shall call to mind. I would not yet have thee follow in all things the rules of our new Reformers of language; because (forsooth) they never read any thing, nor can cite any thing; they would have nothing at all quoted, neither in Prose nor Verse, so that a man must shake hands with Histories and Fables, since a man durst not speak of them: but we must contemn their ignorance, for I would gladly have your ancient things brought into competition with the modern, were it for no other reason, but that this causes the bringing in of a many proper names, which by their great letters would extremely set out the story. Next to this, comes to be considered, that thy discourses must not be tied to one kind of period, nor be always of one dress like the fools coat in a Play. 'Tis an excellent secret I heard one boast of at Paris; I think he had an Ell wherewith he measured all his periods, clipping them if they chanced to fall out too long, or else he cast them in a mould, and measured them by the pottle, such was his dexterity in that point; whereof he gave this reason, because he was a Poet, an Orator, and a Musician (which seldom happens) and knew all the measures, cadences and harmonies of discourse which others were ignorant of. But we shall do well enough to imitate him, nay exceed him. Moreover, when the book shall be finished, thou must not dedicate it to Charite alone, as I sometime proposed to Clarimond. Thou shalt dedicate it to me too, and shalt make either of us an Epistle. But here's one thing troubles me extremely, to know when the book is bound up in read Spanish Leather, with our Characters upon it; whether thou wilt come and present it with only a simple compliment; as to say, Incomparable Shepherd, I present you with this work in my dressing; or whether it will be necessary that thou repeat to us by heart the Epistle that shall be in the book, which thou shalt pronounce, as if it were an Oration. The Author I quoted before, desirous to dedicate his book to the King of Spain, was in the same perplexity. Now thou art to know, that he having sufficiently dedicated his books in this Kingdom, goes from Country to Country to seek new Gods to sacrifice unto, and 'tis thought that one of these days he will go and present Bethlem Gabor with a Romance of Knight-Errantry, to instruct him in the Militia; and the great Turk with a book of Love-Letters, to teach him how to overcome the cruelty of his Mistresses, which must be Persia, Germany, and the Republic of Venice, whom he hath along time been a suitor to. This Author, I say, being on his departure, thought it was but civility to repeat his Epistle Dedicatory all through before him he should present his book to, though he had never done it-before. But to be more assured in the business, he knew not whether he should take the advice of a Casuist, a Civilian, or a sworn Stationer. At last a certain Poet told him, that since men put Epistles before their books 'twas a sign the Authors never presented them themselves, but should send them, though they lived in the same house with their Maecenas, because the Epistles would speak for them, there being no need of their presence; I think he took his advice, for he gave over his voyage into Spain. Thou must seriously consider what judgement thou shouldst make on such an occasion: But since we are come so far, I shall note to thee the opinion of the same Author upon a sonnet in Pasquire against those who speaking to the King, make use of the word Your Majesty, as if they spoke of another person, and so make the Royalty feminine, which was, never to call the King of Spain his Catholic Majesty in his Epistle. He said that when he heard that word, he imagined it spoken of the King's wife, and to give the King a more convenient title, it must be a masculine; as if one should say, Sir, since it hath pleased your Ray to shed its favours on me; or to speak yet better, Sir, since your Power hath vouchsafed to look on me with a favourable eye, I will die in the service of your power: I am your Powers most humble Vassal. Thus you see this writer had handsome inventions: but 'tis true, for some we have no need of them, and for the rest, they are not much better than such as we should find out ourselves. You give me such excellent instructions, says Philiris, that if I have but the ingenuity to follow them, I shall be the best Author in the world, but must acknowledge an obligation to you, both for my eloquence and reputation: I wish myself already retired, that I might take notes of all you have said. I have not told thee all, says Lysis: There will be one thing very remarkable in my History, if thou write it immediately, before there happen any notable change in my affairs; and that is, that all who shall read it will be finely decoyed; they will imagine to find at last a marriage between the Shepherd Lysis and the Shephedress Charite according to the ordinary rules of all Romances, but there will be no such thing. ` 'tis certain they will be much deceived there, replies Philiris smiling; but your marriage shall come in in the continuation of your adventures, which I shall one day finish. But that shall not be till such time as we shall have no Readers but such as will be abused. Yet I must tell you, the circumvention will be ever thought remarkable. I have known divers Romancists, who would come and make their brags to me, that they would surprise and decoy all the world; for the first Romance they would make should begin at the end, and that there was no great art or subtlety to begin one but in the midst. As for yours, I shall begin it according to your order and instructions to Clarimond: but though your adventures be already very eminent, and able to satisfy the most disdainful and nauseous intellects, yet I should entreat you to add to and heighten them if it may be possible, that so the work may be the more complete.  
While the two Shepherds were thus quietly taken up, Hircan and Clarimond overheard all their discourse, having gotten close by them without making any noise. They were mightily taken with the excellent and admirable directions of Lysis; yet Clarimond would needs go to his own house, bethinking him it was a long time since he had seen his mother, who haply wanted him in somewhat or other. He took leave of all the company, and said to Lysis, Though you are my enemy, yet I am more your friend than you imagine. We shall see that hereafter, replies Lysis. Clarimond got immediately on horseback, leaving at Orontes' those who had not so great occasion to be gone as himself.  
The End of the Tenth Book.   

THE Anti-Romance; OR, THE HISTORY Of the SHEPHERD LYSIS.  
The Eleventh Book.  
WHile some were at play, others discoursing in Orontes' Hall, Anselm, who many days since had not spoken to Angelica but of things indifferent, resolved to take her a little aside, that he might not languish any longer in a secret martyrdom. She forgot that strictness which she had observed sometimes before, when she would seem to shun his addresses. She stayed as confidently in the place where he desired to speak to her, as if she had assigned it him. How long, says he to her, shall I be afflicted, without knowing whether they are my crimes that are the cause of it, or my ill fortune only? If I have committed any thing hath offended you, I should expect notice of it from you, that I may do so no more, and that the horror of my sins may add to my punishment. When you first gave me admittance, and entertained my applications, I found not any thing in your actions or words, whence I drew not presages of a certain prosperity; but I now find all is changed as to me; and when my service merit most, they are the least recompensed. I thought I had awhile since sufficiently justified myself to you; but there must still somewhat stand between me and happiness. Consider what affliction your disdain causes me, since you are yet more accomplished and more amiable than Philiris could awhile since make us believe.  
Anselm having continued such discourses with little order, ont of design to show he could not command his passion. Angelica gave him this answer: I now find what I foresaw would come to pass, Philiris his fine speech hath given you occasion of ealousie; that's the reason you are in so ill a mood; you are very soon move●. I draw no consequences from what Philiris said to you a while since, replies Anselm what's done in jest, I take in jest; and I assure you this is not the first day I may have appeared not so well humoured, 'tis ever since the very minute that you slighted the expressions of my affection. You persecute me with such importunity, says Angelica, that to satisfy your desire, I tell you that though I am no longer in doubt of your loving Geneura, yet wants there not what obliges me to look on you as an indifferent person, and that is, that in stead of that first mistress of yours, you have yet another three times worse. I have been told of one Claricia, who was so deep in your affections, that when you were at Paris you stirred not from her house, and carried her often to Court. O God who told you this? is it not Alican? replied Anselm. 'Tis very true. 'twas he, says Angelica. He came to see me at St. Clou without your knowledge, and there he gave me an account of you. 'Tis the greatest cheat in the world, replies Anselm, now that I know the crime whereof I am accused, I shall easily make my innocence appear; it shall cost you nothing but the patience to hear me. I shall not be so unjust, but to give you liberty to speak what you please, replies Angelica. Anselm being thus permitted to speak to the present occasion, began his discourse in this manner.  

The HISTORY of CLARICIA.  
I Suppose you are not to be acquainted that this Claricia is a lewd one, who is at his service that pays her best: It is six months since that taking notice of me somewhere, she would have me to be her servant: I do not speak this out of vanity, nor yet out of any esteem I make of the endowments either of my mind or body; for I am not ignorant how that she never knew any other merit then riches. She did what she could to meet me in the Churches whether I went, that I might at last haply be touched with some affection towards her; but I had no more thought of her then if she had never been; so that she must needs have practised some invention to have catched me. As I walked one evening near the Arsenal, a Soldier came and accosted me with these words, Sir, I understand you are a person very studious of curiosities and rarities, and that hath made me so bold as to acquaint you that there is a friend of mine who hath got some of the rarest secrets in the world. I was so curious as to hearken to what he said; and though I knew there were a many Mountebanks in Paris, yet would I try whether this were one. I asked the Soldier what was his principal study whom he spoke to me of; he told me by a certain secret knowledge he had, he would show me whom I should marry: and after this he answered so pertinently to divers questions, that I took him at least for an honest fellow, and suffered him to walk with me till I came to my own house. I told him at parting that I much desired to see his friend▪ and bid him come the next morning to bring me to him. He failed not to come; so that I went along with him to a little house near the Temple, where being entered, he told me his friend was not yet come, and that I must wait a little in the Master of the house's chamber; which was so low and so unhandsome that I had rather have stayed in the street. Swords and Halberds were dispo'sd over the chimney on the same rack with the Spits. Against the chimney-stock were nailed up two or three wooden shoes, one served for a saltseller, another for blacking, another held matches and spice. All about were broken half-pecks turned up-side-down instead of stools, nor indeed were there any other all about the chamber. At one end there was a piece of mat made a partition, which served both for Wardrobe and Buttery, and thence was brought me out a lame joint-stool, which was made to stand even by the help of a faggot-stick. I sat thereon as a Precedent in his seat, while in the mean time the Soldier practised the five postures he had learned a while before. He whom we stay for will be here now suddenly (would he sometimes tell me) he hath promised me to be here at eleven. I might have brought him to your house, and so have spared you the Pains to come hither; but the most part of things he makes use of in his operations are not portable. I told him, 'twere better have a little patience, since he would not stay long, and that I was loath to lose my labour. An hour being spent in these fine stories, the Soldier told me at last that he thought it best to go look for his friend, and thereupon he left me. I was sometimes of opinion it was some swaggerer, and that he was now gone to fetch his Comrades to rob me; yet would I not be gone, as being better resolved, though I had brought no Lackey with me, because I would not have any body know whither I went. Nothing troubled me so much as hunger, which now began to make its approaches, being as then fasting; otherwise I should have thought it no hard task to wait till night, so desirous was I to see a Magician. I asked the Master of the house whether he had dined, who having answered me that he had broke his fast so well that he would eat nothing till night: I told him plainly the case was not the same with me, and that I should take it well if somewhat were brought me. I had no other money about me but a piece of gold, which I gave him to provide somewhat but he stayed so long that I thought he had been run away with my money, and left me master of his householdstuff; for all that was in the house was not worth it. At last he returns with bread only, and went out again to get somewhat else. Being not able to eat so much bread without drinking, I gave a good deal of it to a dog that barked at me as if I had been some thief. When I had appeased him there came a beggar to the door, who was so important for an alms, that I gave him all my provision to be quiet. The dog it seems envied at that, and began to quarrel with me afresh. Seeing that his master came not, I had a mind to go to the door to see if he were not coming at the streets end, but I was afraid some of my acquaintance might pass by, and would haply have been frighted to see me in such a place. About half an hour after mine host returns with a bottle of wine, and a little piece of beef half roasted. When he had given me the rest of my money, I gave him to fetch more bread, and so I eat and drank. Upon this, he tells me that he knew not what he thought on all the time that he kept me in a low room so ill furnished, since he had the key of an upper Chamber which was somewhat better. He presently brought me up to that Chamber, which was hung with strip stuff, and had a pretty little bed; but it was some wonder to me not to find any Books, nor Mathematical Instruments, nor any other thing necessary to a knowing man. I presume of your pardon fairest Angelica, that I tell you so many particulars: nor may you wonder that I relate to you things that are pleasant, when I have most cause to be sad, because I force my humour to it out of opinion it pleases you. Know then that mine host having left me all alone in the Chamber; a little while after a young Gentlewoman comes up, and asks me what I did there, and whether I had any thing to say to her. I was much amazed to see her instead of the Magician I expected; and I said to myself, Does he whom I would speak with know my design already? Hath he not been told that I intended to ask him what kind of woman I should have? and to satisfy me with the sight of her, hath he not sent this, who haply is one of his wenches, so to make me believe that it is she I must fall in love with? Though this came into my thought, yet I gave the Gentlewoman this answer, That I was brought thither to speak with one I had some business with, but that I had been abused. She replied that she was very much beholding to that abuse which got her my acquaintance; and thereupon fell upon some very free talk, to which I answered with that modesty which men ought to observe. At length, being weary of those discourses, and seeing the Soldier returned not, I took my leave of her. As she brought me down, she told me that if ever I should come and repose myself in her chamber, she would take it as a signal favour. Had it not been for these words, I should haply have suspected no ill, for she discovered that gravity which is not so common among lewd ones; but on the other side, the place where she lived, and her Maid and Lackey so ill accommodated, made me think the worse of her. I returned home very sad at my adventure; and two days after, it happened I met Alican in an Academy. We being of acquaintance I told him of the Gentlewoman I had seen; and he, as being universally acquainted, told me it was Claricia, and that she was well descended, but that suits at Law had so impoverished her, that it was generally conceived, that to live in the height and bravery she did, she sold her favours to any one; yet he believed it not, because he could never obtain any thing of her in that way. He very seasonably sell into this flourish of vanity. For I afterwards took him into my Coach, and much against my mind, he brought me to this Claricia's, telling me he would so dispose her, and put her upon such discourse as should please me. I cannot deny, but that having found Claricia, I was more satisfied with her discourse, then that of Alican, for it is the most impertinent fellow in the world. He it was, desired her company to a Race, which obliged me to take her with us. And this is it he should have told you. Since that time I never had aught to do with Claricia. He made you believe that I loved her, that you might hate me, that so nothing might hinder you to affect him; for I doubt not but that was one of his principal designs. Had he no other vices than Treachery and unfaithfulness, I should believe he might yet be wrought to some good; but since he carries about him so many ill qualities. I dare speak no more of him, lest you might think I would commend myself by blaming him. There's Montenor, who can give you a better account than I, of the actions of that most illustrious person of this age.   
Angelica, whom this Alican had indeed courted, though unsuccessfully, was very desirous to be acquainted with his life, so that she called Montenor who had given over playing. I entreat you, says she to him, to give us some little account of Alican, we desire much to know what kind of person he is.  

The HISTORY of ALICAN.  
HE whom you mention, said Montenor, is the son of a Gentleman who was extremely rich, but withal the most covetous that ever was. In the time of his sickness which was his last, he was advised to change the air; he answered, he would willingly go to his Countryhouse, but conditionally, that his two best friends were carried along with him. They shall not fail to be there, said some about him; there were none but thought he being at the point of death, otherwise then the two best friends he talked of, were his Physician and his Confessor, which were they he had most need of: but when the time to depart was come, he made it appear that by those two good friends, he meant two strong Chests wherein he put all his money. When it was said to him that he was to blame to suffer his thoughts to be carried away to dotage on his wealth: he answered that they were indeed his best friends, since they assisted him at all times, procuring him whatever he desired, and that there were few in the world that loved him but for their sakes. Some of the kindred being unwilling that so much money should be carried from the house, because of what ill accident might happen. The sick person continued still in the City, and upon that a very remarkable thing fell out: Though his sickness was in the extremity, yet would he himself keep an account of all was spent, lest his son, and servants might deceive him. So that he had in the bed with him a great bag of money whereon he still leaned his arm as if it had been a pillow, and when there wanted any thing towards the house, he himself gave what to buy it withal. One day it came into his mind to go to his study, to see if his two Chests were as they should be; and though he were very sick, yet must he be carried to the place where he desired. Having with much ado opened one of his Coffers, and kneeling on a pillow for to contemplate his Treasure, at his ease, he died suddenly. The dead should not be censured, yet it may be said he died in a most abominable posture, as if he were then adoring his money. God suffered him to come to that unhappy end for an example to others; and 'tis an article of my faith, that it is no sin to divulge the sins of such, to induce people to live better. Alican being left sole heir, makes it sufficiently appear that it is not the will of divine Justice that so great riches should remain in that Family, for he is as prodigal as his father was covetous, and he is his greatest friend that can best furnish him with inventions of expense. Yet having once lent me a piece in a Church to bestow in some charitable way, which I could not then avoid, he never meets me but he fantastically demands it, telling me that I shall not bestow alms at his charge. My answer to him ever is, That I not pay him till he hath consumed all, because then a piece will be more to him then a thousand now, and he will thank me for having kept it so long. He taketh all this in jest, but I speak it in good earnest; for I believe he will soon find the end of his riches, according to the rate he lives at. If he loses any money at play, he'll cast what he hath left out at the windows, and for that the lackeys only are obliged to him. He never bargains for any thing he buys, because he hath that esteem of himself, that he would think it a disparagement unto him, if he should contest with the populacy. As for his follies, they are incomparable, and so remarkable that all that meet him, though they know him not, yet think him not free from extravagance. There's ever somewhat extraordinary in his clothes, either for fashion, or colours, not to mention his affectations of such and such garments. Sometimes he will needs make people believe he hath been let blood, or hath been wounded in his arm, only to take occasion to show a fine Scarf he got at the Fair. He wears Pendants at his ears of all fashions: he hath some little golden Cross, or some other trinket at the end of his mustachoe. He hath ever some bracelet in sight, and some Fancy in his hat, to make men believe he is in favour with some Lady. He hath also some Knots or other at the welts of his shoes, when he is in silk stockings. To be short, if he be considered all about, it will be found there will not be one piece of him which hath not somewhat different from what's in others. Besides all this, if it happen some morning that a Mistress looks not graciously on him, he thinks his clothes are in the fault, as wanting somewhat to charm her; and this makes him put on another suit in the afternoon to recover her favour. This makes him so infinitely curious in his apparel, that when he is to enter into a fashion, he sends for four Master-Tailors into consultation, as if 'twere four able Councillors to have their judgement in a Case, and he gives them money for their opinion, for his summer fashion or his winter fashion, and to know which are the most sumptuous Modes. Nor must the Lackeys but smell somewhat of the extravagance of him they serve, and make Alicans folly apparent. Sometimes their skirts are pointed, sometimes like scales: If one year they wear Coats with sleeves, the next they are in Cloaks after the Spanish mode. Their Liveries sometimes consists of several pieces of divers colours, like Jackpuddings, or else cross laced with Galoom, into Characters and Love-knots, so that any one would say they wore the Livery of Folly, rather than that of their Master's Mistress. I do not blame this as being an enemy to handsomeness, and fashions, for I love to see Gentlemen and their attendance well clad, so the ordinary decent mode be observed; but Alican, as I tell you, is not content to cloth his servants fantastically, as divers do, but he will be so himself, that the relation may be seen, and that it might not be thought his servants are borrowed. But there are yet greater impertinences. One day he would needs have a glass in the Crown of his hat, to see ever and anon if ●e courted the Ladies handsomely. It can hardly be conceived what trouble he puts his Cloak and that to, by cocking and trussing them as he does, and I think he doth it only to show he hath now nothing but what's new; whereas in his father's time, all he had came from the brokery, so that all was so mellow that it could hardly be touched. Being one day at a Church-door, he would needs salute a Gentlewoman that was going in, though he knew her not for his gallantry was already very remarkable) putting on his hat in a fury, because she would not be saluted, he unawares pulled the brim so hard, that he tore it, and drew it down over his nose, as if it had been the visor of a head-piece. That happened before a many people to his great disgrace, and all his revenge was to swear he would be the death of the Haberdasher had sold it him. But now he redeems the time wherein he was so ill accoutred, and I believe he wished himself in this posture long ere he came to it, and that he would not have given any thing to save his father's life. His chiefest diversions were to go into Churches and Walks to show himself: Sometimes he takes a great delight to drive a Coach about Paris▪ and thinks he hath done a great act, though the humour be stale enough. If he keep home, he is so idle that he knows not what reading or any such thing means, and can find himself no other employment then to stand at the window and shoot peas through a Trunk at those that pass by or some such diversion, for which he is beholding to his Lacquays. Yet I should forgive him this did he but come off handsomely with his simplicities; but when he hath abused some honest Tradesmen who have answered him as he deserves, he hath no other name to call them by but Citizens. As for his ordinary discourse, 'tis as simple as can be imagined; he'll be ever telling you how many pieces he lost or got at play, and what rare designs he hath about clothes, whereof he will show you draughts in paper, as if they were some designs of Architecture. I think I have told you enough to know him by, and you may easy judge that there cannot be an action of this man that speaks not somewhat of his folly. I am weary to entertain you so long on so despicable a subject.   
Angelica harkened very attentively to Montenors' discourse, and thought in herself that it had been well her mother had heard it, that she might have known what kind of person Alican was; for she imagined that Leonora had a good opinion of him, and would have been content he were her son in law. Anselm perceiving she said not a word, obliged her to speak by this question: Well what say you now of this illustrious (ourtier? Will you hereafter believe a man that disguises himself every day as well in his words as in his clothes? Truly, replies Angelica, I can only tell you, that Claricia would be excellently well for his turn, and that he ought to marry her. I am of your opinion, replies Anselm, and believe me, for my part, I shall give him no occasion to be jealous.  
This discourse ended, and Montenor being returned to the Cards, Anselm put Angelica so hard to it, that she openly confessed that she thought him not so poorly minded, as that he did ever affect Claricia; who though she was very handsome, yet had the reputation of some lightness: and as for Alican, she soon discovered how little she esteemed him. 'Twas then that Anselm reassumed his good hopes, and Angelica who truly loved him, could no longer use her ordinary dissimulations. She favoured him so far, that when he desired to wait her in private to entertain her with his affection, she assigned him the next day at night, but told him, she was not yet resolved of the place; this promise satisfied him extremely. He thanked her the best he could, but contracted his compliments, because he thought he was discovered by all, and that there came still some one towards them to hear what they said. As for his part he was so cunning as to speak aloud then, and that of some indifferent matter, that it might be thought the rest of his discourse was of the same.  
When the Gamesters had given over, he returned with Montenor, though Orontes had entreated them both to lodge at his house. Hircan, Lysis, and those of that gang returned also to their home. Lysis was almost out of himself not to find Carmelin there, and which was worse, no body could tell any news of him: He had been seen to go out of the Castle, but it was thought only to walk thereabout; and in the mean time he was not come to supper to Hircans. Lysis was extremely afflicted at this loss; he knew not what to do to find the faithful companion of his travels. To go into the Gardens was to no purpose, there was no likelihood he should be there; and as for going into the fields, what could have been done in the dark? His recourse therefore was to complain, which he did in this manner. Alas! my faithful Carmelin, shall I not know for what cause thou hast left me? I never threatened to beat thee, I have not dealt roughly with thee, or if I have, it hath been only in jest. When thou desiredst to participate in the glory of my Prowesses, I have been content, and I have permitted thee to be crowned with Laurel as well as myself. Wherein then have I offended thee, thou who wert the second person in my esteem next my Mistress? Hadst thou stayed with me, of a hireling as thou wert, I would have made of thee an Illustrious Shepherd, for 'tis not a Warrior who hath gotten a victory should be ranked among rustics.  
Lysis having ended this complaint, was forced to go to bed as well as the rest: and while he is asleep, I will tell you if you please to give me leave, what became of Carmelin. His Master being gone with the rest a hunting, his thoughts ran on Lisetta, whom he could not forget, though his Master commanded him to love no other than Parthenice. Having asked one of the servants where she was, he answered, that she was gone with her Mistress, who was the fair Lady he might have seen awhile before in the Castle. He knew well enough that they spoke of the Shepherdess Amaryllis, and because he thought himself much in her favour, he resolved to give her a visit, and by that means to see his love. The same servant told him that she lived about three miles from the Castle, and gave him the best directions he could to find the house. Carmelin very joyfully left the fellow, and being gone out from Hircans as nothing were, he walked softly awhile, but at last he began to run as fast as if his Master had already been in pursuit of him, till he was gotten out of sight of his ordinary Lodging. He met by the way with some Country people, who directed him so well that he soon came to Amaryllis' as she was in the Hall with five or six Gentlewomen of the same Village. What good wind hath blown you hither? courteous Carmelin, said she to him, I did not think this day to be so happy as to have seen you: what good prayer have I said this morning that hath brought this blessing on me? If I could remember it, I would say it every day, that my felicity might still continue. Tell me I pray, how does the Prince of the Shepherds of France? What hath he done since I have seen him? Do you come hither expressly from him to give me an account? I come hither from no man but myself, replies Carmelin, and consequently you are the more obliged to me. As for the Shepherd Lysis, I left him very well, and I assure you that we have done such rare things since your departure, that they can hardly be related to the full. You must needs tell us the whole story, replies Amaryllis, were it only to honour my good neighbours here, who questionless will be extremely taken with the relation.  
She had already related a many of Lysis' adventures to the Gentlewomen, who knowing immediately that this was the servant of that illustrious Shepherd, they all set upon and about him, to conjure him to tell what he knew had happened to his Master, whom they did so highly esteem. Carmelin who was not made of iron or wood, seeing himself entreated by so many fair ones, thought he could do no less then satisfy them, so that having by the command of Amaryllis taken a seat, he began to speak in this manner.  
Ladies, Gentlewomen, Nymphs, Hamadryads, naiads, or fair Shepherdesses (I know not how to call you, such a confusion hath the Master I now serve made in my former Learning, by forcing me to new principles.) It being then so, that it is your desire to know some incomparable adventures of the Shepherd Lysis, 'tis not without some reason that I make use of this expression, for I have been told that a famous Author began thus all his Chapters. It being then so, that it is your desire to know those noble and pleasant adventures, I am first to tell you of Meliantes, who is a Sepherd, as he says, of that Country, which, as I remember, is somewhat near those people, who wear great Balls of Linen about their heads. 'Tis Persia, now I have hit it. To bring it into my mind, I was fain to think on a piece of wine that a while since was pierced before me, for I practice Artificial Memory. Now though this Meliantes says he is that Countryman, he speaks as good French as you or I and his nose and eyes are made alike, and of the same colour as ours. He said then that his Mistress, whose name I cannot remember, unless I hear it, was stolen away by two Giants, and imprisoned in a Castle, whence it was necessary my Master should redeem her. As for my part, Hircan engaged me also in the design; and because my Master nor I could not pretend to any great soldiery, and that in matter of War, we were more likely to retreat then advance, he promised to make our bodies so hard, that swords should not hurt them. This Hircan says he is a Magician, and I believe he may be one, for certainly he is a gallant man, as to that point. He doth no more at his house then say, Lackey lay the cloth, and presently you find the Table excellently well furnished. He might as well therefore make us as valiant as he said. My Master put on a habit which they term an Heroical habit: and for my part, I was armed cap à pee; but it was such an encumbrance to me, that if my nose had dropped, I must have desired my Master to wipe it. After a great many ceremonies we were put into a Coach which at first went by land, and afterward through the air, as Lysis said, but for my part I could perceive no such thing. I slept in the place where I sat, and my Master having done the like, he dreamt that a Magician drew us out of the Coach, and that he made us eat on a marble Table. You are to conceive that was only to cool the broth; that he carried us to see birds that were Gardeners, men that were as clear as glass, and a furnace wherein we were burnt, and then that having raised a great hall in the Wilderness, he made servants come out of the hangings, and bring us somewhat for collation, and that I drunk and eat as much as six men. I maintained against him that there was never any such thing, and that my guts cried vengeance on this dream. This made him somewhat angry, but he is since appeased. To return then to our adventure, 'tis true that an ancient grave man having awaken me, drew me out of the Coach with Lysis, and that through obscure ways, we came at last to a great Cellar where we fought with Monsters. To tell you what blows we gave, and what we received, is more than I can do, for I had not the leisure to count them, so was I amazed. 'Tis true, I was not so much out of myself, as if I had seen my blood running out of my body, for had that happened, I think I should have been no longer for this world, and should have died for fear, though my wounds were no more dangerous than scratches: and this certainly would have happened, had our enemies had any fire-arms, for if they had had any muskets or Canons, the very report would have carried away my wits. But we were so fortunate as to overcome our adversaries, and over and above killed a Dragon. I must indeed confess it was not very terrible, for it stirred not from the same place, and there came out no fire at his throat; yet my Master was afraid of it and thought it a great glory to have overthrown it. After this victory we delivered Meliantes' Mistress out of prison, and returned with her into the Coach. Lysis related all this this morning to Hircan, and then it was he and I had some dispute about his fond imaginations: but to tell you the troth, after such travel undergone, where it was my hope we should have been made rich men, there was only bestowed on each of us a Crown of Laurel. Here's mine, which I still wear instead of a hatband. Nay they would have had me lose my at by the bargain, for I had much ado to get it. The praise I should have gotten, would by that time have cost me dear enough. I am now at length such as you see me, and such as I am, having learned out Amaryllis' house I am come thither while my Master is gone a hunting with all the rest of the company.  
Carmelin having thus finished his discourse, which had pleased the Gentlewomen very well, Amaryllis told him, that if it were true, that he came purposely to her house to see her, she was extremely obliged to him, but that she imagined he was come rather to see the Nymph Lisetta, whom she had entertained for her servant. The answer to this was a smile a very unhandsome one, and Amaryllis continuing her speech, asked him whether he did not firmly believe that Lisetta had been an Hamadryad. I must needs believe it since all the world says so, replied he. I am made believe that I have not so much judgement as others, and that I do not see things as they are, so that though my own reason persuades me to any thing it apprehends, yet must I not be suffered to give it any credit. I have often seen scarecrows of wood, but I know not what the other means, nor ever shall till I have read my Master's Books. Not to lie for the matter, his imaginations are extremely troublesome, and were it not that he is of a quiet disposition, I had left him ere this. 'Tis true, there is some pleasure in his company, for if sometimes I have fared hardly, since he came to Hircans I live like a little Prince. What a miracle was that Feast whereat Orontes entertained us the other day? I made one there, and remembering I had read in a certain book, that red is the colour of Virtue, I drank as much Wine as I could for to paint my nose and my cheeks. I see then, says Amaryllis, that of all the Gods your Master hath quoted to you, there's none you honour more than Bacchus. If you please, though we drink not much Wine, you shall keep his Feast to morrow with us. I am to cut down a little Vinyard I have in my Close. Carmelin upon this betook him to his considerations, saying, that if he returned not, his Master would be much troubled for him: But Amaryllis told him she would excuse him, so that he presently resolved to stay. There were only two Gentlewomen stayed supper there, the rest went to their homes; but at night they came again to pass away the time with their neighbour. They danced and sung together, and Carmelin with his Lisetta were taken in. When it grew late they assigned him a bed, and the rest retired.  
The next morning Amaryllis set the Gatherers on work, and was very pleasant with them, and somewhat the more because she had Carmelins good company, who with her assistance, started out a most heroical design.  
In the mean time Lysis, to whom it is time to return, rose in very much disquiet, not thinking it was yet time to leave off his Heroical accoutrements, though he had promised the day before not to be in them any longer. He bethought himself that Charite had not yet seen him in that bravery, and that she had not appeared at all at Orontes's. He therefore made a vow not to quit his Coat of Male till he should meet that fair Mistress of his. He said so to all he met, to prevent the wonder they might be in not to find him clad as a Shepherd. Every one approving his resolution, he dined very quietly, though he still seemed to have somewhat to say, either as to the strange and unfamiliar humour of Charite, who hid herself from him assoon as ever she saw him, or as to the loss of Carmelin. As for his Mistress, he was promised a sudden sight of her; and for Carmelin, they told him that they had sent to seek him.  
About two or three in the afternoon, Hircan and the rest being gone abroad for some recreation, Lysis perceived in the highway a great dust, and having looked a long time that way, he imagined there had been a great train of horses and Carts. Are they not the Parisian Shepherds that are now come? cries he out. There comes the baggage.  
Every one looked that way, and they discovered a Wagon, and a Coach after it, with a many people afoot. As this Pageant came nearer and nearer, they perceived in the Wagon a man sitting astride a Barrel, and it was soon known to be the courteous Carmelin. He had on a white pair of drawers and a white waistcoat, a skarf of vine-leaves, a Crown of Ivy, and a Cup in his hand, so that he seemed to be very pleasant to see himself represent the Father of Good-fellowship. There was a deal of boughs all about the Wagon, and two sturdy Country fellows that led it, were also crowned with vine-branches. Eight women gatherers went before, with their Paniers and pruning Hooks, and the two Basket-carriers followed them. An old man who yet had a pleasant countenance, rid on an Ass after the Wagon, to represent Silenus. Carmelin sung a drinking Song, to which all the rest answered. Being come upto the company of Shepherds, he caused the Wagon to be stayed to begin another Song, of the best he had and that done, he was presented with some Wine which he took off. Hereupon Amaryllis and her neighbours, who were all in Petticoats, came out of the Coach, having each of them a basket of small Osier under their arms, and little guilt hooks in their hands; and Amaryllis advancing the foremost, made towards Hircan, to whom she made a low courtesy, saying to him, Learned Magician, I am come hither, sent by Bacchus, to make you this small present, which you will accept when you consider it comes from that God who is more powerful than all the rest. 'Tis he that causes and continues our mirth; 'tis he makes servants speak confidently to their Mistresses, and 'tis he that makes the Soldier courageous, though he were naturally a coward. If you adore him with a constant mind, he will always preserve your vines from the frosts, and will send you such store of Wine, that it shall be as cheap as the water of Morin.  
Amaryllis having said these words, Hircan took from her a basket of Grapes, which she presented to him, and thus he returned her his thanks. Fairest Nymph says he to her, I cheerfully receive this present both for the God Bacchus' sake, and hers that brings it me from him. And if you tell me that he whom you adore is so powerful that it makes Lovers speak without fear, I assure you I have much need to acknowledge him, to the end I may freely discover to my Mistress the afflictions I am in for her sake. Amaryllis knew well enough what he aimed at, yet made no reply, to give way to another Nymph, who addressed this discourse to Lysis. Incomparable Shepherd, the glory and Ornament of France, Bacchus having been acquainted with thy merit, would not be the last to visit thee. He knows that the Aquatic Gods, the Hamadriads and the naiads have conversed with thee, and therefore he should have thought himself unhappy, should he not have the honour to see thee. In testimony of the respect he acknowledges due to thee, he sends thee by me this basket of Grapes, with a promise of some of his new Wine when it is pressed; in the mean time, accept this present. Thou art also to know that I have supplanted my sisters to obtain this my Ambassage to thee, for having all left our Country to come and see thee, 'twas no mean contention for the honour to speak to thee first. Fair Nymph, replies Lysis, I know not in what words to thank your Bacchus for all his favours; for how can I satisfy a God, since I do not think myself in a capacity to recompense you, who are but his Waiters, or his Priestesses? However, be pleased to receive my good will, and excuse my performances.  
This discourse ended, one of the Country fellows that led the Wagon, came and brought a bottle of sweet Wine for the Company, without any other compliment then saying, Behold what Bacchus hath sent you. He had but little to say, and yet he delivered it so unhandsomely, that all the company laughed at it. That hindered not the Ladies from getting into the Coach again and follow Bacchus his Chariot, which began to put forward with all the Brigade.  
Lysis was the most taken at this sight, and had he not heard all conclude it was Carmelin that rid in the Wagon, he would have thought it had been Bacchus himself, according to the first imagination he conceived of things, which was that of taking all fictions for truths. Carmelin indeed was well enough made for a Bacchus, save that he had a little too much beard, for his nose was as red as a rose, and his cheeks were no less. Nor did his Master think him ill accommodated, which made him say, This is indeed an excellent piece of Gallantry. See how Carmelin is become a brave person, I am afraid he'll go beyond me. Consider how knowing he is in matter of Metamorphosis and the Divinities I am almost of belief he hath been changed into that God which makes the Vine flourish. If it have been for so excellent a design as this, that he hath been absent this last night, I confess he hath had reason to do so.  
While Lysis spoke thus, all the equipage of the God Bacchus went in at Oronte's, the great Gate being opened to let in the Wagon. The noise which the Gatherers made with their singing, made Angelica look out at the window. As soon as she perceived this great pomp, she gave notice to her mother and her aunt, who with Orontes came presently down, and thereupon Amaryllis and her companions presented them with Grapes, as presents from the God. They gave them also sweet Wine, for which they returned them infinite thanks, and spoke much in the praise of Amaryllis, who they were beholding to for this conceited invention. Amaryllis perceiving that Leonora and Angelica were pleasant enough in their humours, quitted all her reservedness and gravity before them, and answered among the Gatherers to Carmelins' Songs.  
Awhile after their arrival, four Gentlemen, husbands and fathers to the Gentlewomen that were with Amaryllis, being come another way on horseback, came and had their part of the Vintage-recreation. About the same time Hircan, Lysis, and the rest who came softly after, entered the place, so that Orontes had by that time a considerable Assembly at his house. Have we not some noble design in hand? says Amaryllis; I have this morning gathered all the Grapes in my Close, there being not many Vines; and this afternoon I bring my Gatherers in triumph. You make it appear that you have read the Dyonisiacks, says Orontes, you are the most knowing Shepherdess that ever was. Yet there's somewhat wanting in this triumph of Bacchus, says Lysis, you have neither Fawns nor Satyrs, and they are ever of attendance to this God. These women also whom you have brought with you, have been too modest to be the Priestesses of Bacchus; they should have had the Javeline, a Timbrel, or Cymbals in their hands, and they should have danced most furiously and vehemently. Content yourself with what is done, without thinking of reforming us, replies Amaryllis, all those I brought with me are of my neighbourhood, where never were celebrated the Feasts of Bacchus; another time we'll do better.  
After this discourse, Carmelin was taken down from his Chariot, and all the company went into Orontes' Hall, where was presented the Collation. Upon that; Anselm and Montenor come in, they were soon told they were come too late to see the greatest piece of mirth in the world, and they described to them the preparation of the Bacchanals. Montenor was sorry he had stayed so long, but Anselm thought he was there soon enough, since he found Angelica there. When he was at any distance from her, he spoke to her by his amorous looks, and made it appear how impertinently the Poets make Loves without eyes, for how could one that were blind, teach us the use and advantage of Looks?  
While this Lover was satisfied thus, Hircan, who knew that Amaryllis had not undertaken this gallantry but for his sake, took it for such an expression of her affection, as pleased him extremely, so that it inflamed him more and more towards her, and his discourses to her were the most pleasant he could think on. As for Lysis, who was not then so much taken up with his Loves, but he could attend other things that presented themselves; he told Carmelin, that he wondered not much he had left him, and that he conceived it was the affection he bore Lisetta, had forced him to that escape. I am a conscientious man, says Carmelin, 'tis true, I love that wench, yet I had no design to lodge at Amyrillis', had I not been kept there. It shall be seen what the Gods will decree upon thy inconstancy, says Lisis; hadst thou still loved the rock Parthenice, she might haply have recovered her former shape, and conscious of the obligation, would have bestowed herself on thee. But let's talk of somewhat else, this pleases thee not. Give notice to all that are here, that they hear me. Gentlemen and Shepherds, cries out Carmelin, and you Gentlewomen and Shepherdesses, be pleased to hearken to my Master.  
Gracious presence, says Lysis! the Triumph of Bacchus puts me in mind, that it were fit there should be order taken I might ride in Triumph too. I have overcome Giants and Monsters, I have accomplished an incomparable adventure; 'tis for this that I desire to triumph, riding in a Warlike Chariot, in my Heroical accoutrements, with my Crown of Laurel on my head, as I now have it. This Chariot shall be drawn by four white horses; there shall Soldiers march orderly before me, carrying Pictures, wherein shall be represented divers things: In one shall be seen the flying Horses, in another the enchanted Castle, and so of other things that make up the History; but since I cannot have those I have overcome neither dead nor alive, there shall be some sturdy rustics to represent them, and shall be fastened with iron Chains behind the Chariot, as if they were my slaves. There shall be the Conqueror Anarimander, the two Giants, the hulchbacked Soldiers, and after that shall come the Effigies of the Dragon. Can it be thought that the Romans who were so great Captains, did not sometimes make use of such shifts, and gave not money to poor people to be their slaves for one day, to make their triumph the more magnificent? Let this be put off for a while, says Philiris, till the Parisian Shepherds are come. 'Tis well advised, replies Lysis, for there will be more to see me, and my glory will be the greater: I will have as much patience as can be expected.  
Those who had never seen Lysis before, and had only heard of him, found him a more egregious fool than they imagined, and above all things wondered at his extravagance in his clothes. It happened just then that he himself took notice of them so that he spoke further thus; Now, says he, that I am clad after the Grecian mode, I think on all the Grecian sports. Their Olympic games were an excellent diversion. I should wish there were as well in this Country all sorts of Games, we should renew the ancient Running, Wrestling, Leaping, and other Recreations when I am fully established, I shall bestow some thoughts that way. Besides, since it is my resolution to govern altogether according to the ancient Customs; it shall not suffice to Crown the Conquerors, but there shall also be Odes sung in their, praise, and hymns to the honour of the Gods. Now to do this there must be excellent Poets, which we cannot have if we have not Muses to inspire them; for the Poets discover by their Invocations of those fair Goddesses at the beginning of their Works, that their spirits languish without their assistance. We shall therefore endeavour to have that Novenary Company, which is no hard matter, since all good Poets bring them over to their own Countries. I think I have heard say, that Ronsard went to Mount Parnassus, and brought them away and planted them in the Province of Vandosme, but that they returned to their former habitation assoon as he died. Are not we able to make them return hither again? We need only send Philiris, who, to divert him in his journey, may have Carmelin with him: They are very fit for the design, for Philiris is already as good in Verse as Prose; and as for Carmelin, he is also a lettered man; sometimes he speaks nothing but Sentences. You must take your journey one of these days, my friends: the enterprise will be to you reputation. Then shall you be able to do miracles in Poetry, and the seven Liberal Sciences; for the Goddesses you shall bring with you, will teach you all things: You shall take shipping at Marseilles. I do not believe the Muses will come hither by Sea, says Philiris, they would be afraid lest all their Learning might be shipwrecked. Hircan shall then lend you his Coach and flying horses, replies Lysis. We shall be overcrowded if we take in all the Nine fair Ladies, answers Philiris, I will rather between this and that time bethink me of some better invention, 'Twill be a brave thing to see the Muses in this Country, says M●liantes: but if they would oblige us, they should endeavour to give us a spring of Hippocras, instead of that of Hippocrene. I believe they will have a many more visitants, and that their Fountain will be preferred before any waters in France. Since their Master Apollo is the God of Physic, he will also enable them to cure all diseased bodies, as well as divert melancholic minds. Some than shall go to visit them to learn their Art, others for remedy against their indispositions, and most out of curiosity; and this is it makes me believe it will be hard to make them keep in France, for they must ever be on some Mountain, where every one must have her Grot to study in, as your Hermits do in their Cells; whereas here they'll be perpetually disturbed by importunate visits; and though they were troubled with none but such as desire to be Poets, yet would they have enough to divert them from their meditations; Nay I believe if they will permit all to drink at their Fountain, it would be dry in one day. There is yet another inconvenience they are subject to, if there be not order taken, and it is this, France is well stored with a sort of people who make it their business to cajoll and corrupt young Maids; it's to be feared they may do these some injury, and so that honourable Chastity which they processed so much before, will be destroyed; and you know that assoon as a maid is lost once as to honesty, in Paris, she is presently betrayed to the devotion of a sort of Pimps, and such other props and pillars of Taverns and Bawdy-houses; and it may be the misfortune of the Muses to fall under the mercy of such infamous persons, so that to the scandal of all the world, they must prostitute all their knowledge to them: and where there should be men of good reputation, making Verses in the shade of a Laurel Tree, on the brink of some Fountain, or else in the silence of a private study; there will be only a sort of vagabonds that compose with a glass in their hand, or a pipe of Tobacco in their mouths and will be delivered of more hiccocks than Verses! They will also be as base and lascivious as Satyrs, which is the reason that commonly their Works come out under that name. I am obliged to you for these considerations, says Lysis, you show your tenderness of the honour of the Muses; but is your judgement so weak as to believe I had not prevention enough to provide for all these disorders? When they shall have chosen some little Mountain in this Country for their abode, I shall easily keep away the lewd Robin-good-fellows of Paris to come and see them: They shall be kept in with good Walls, and there shall be strong Guards at the Gates.  
As Lysis ended this discourse, it happened Charite had somewhat to say to Angelica, so that she came into the Hall to acquaint her with it; but she went out again immediately seeing so many people, and especially Lysis, for she was ashamed to appear before him, and was afraid somewhat might be said to her as she passed by. The Heroic Shepherd shifted off his discourse when he perceived her, so abruptly, that all wondered at it. O God says he in himself, I have seen her, and she hath seen me, now I have my desires, she hath at length shown herself, notwithstanding her solitary humour.  
But after this, perceiving that Charite was gone, he was sad as might be, so that he entered not into any further talk with any body. Hircan in the mean time having spoken to Amaryllis more clearly of his affection then ever, she told him that she thought herself much honoured, if he loved her only on honourable grounds; and thereupon an ancient Gentleman, a kinsman of Amaryllis' coming near them, said that the Assembly was so great and noble, that he imagined himself at the contract of a Marriage. It shall not be my fault if it be not so, says Hircan; I wish the things I have spoken to your fair Niece here, were already effected; and if you please, you shall know what they are. He thereupon told him his suit to Aamaryllis, and the advantages of her marriage with him; so that the old Blade liked all very well; and having understood that his Niece, who was the most concerned in it, consented, he went and proposed the business to Orontes, and the other Gentlemen. The matter was so advanced, that they sent for a Notary to pass the Contract, and a Priest to make them sure. 'Twas said that a divine permission had brought this Assembly together, since that if they had been to be betrothed upon previous assignation, they could have invited none other but what were present, for the chiefest friends of Hircan and Amaryllis were there. Lysis was almost out of himself to see the business so soon effected, and because he was for its going forward, he signed the minutes of the Contract as well as the rest. While all this was in agitation, Anselm had the opportunity to speak to Angelica, and their passions were so violent, that though they had sufficiently declared one to another their minds, yet they resolved on a visit at night, as they had designed the day before. Angelica told him that the interview might be about ten of the clock in a Bower of the Garden where she would be sure to be, and that she would order the back-gate to be left open for Anselm to come in at.  
The complot being made, they separated, to avoid suspicion, when in the mean time Lysis, whose mind was burdened with excellent designs, went out of the Hall and set upon Jacquelina the Kitchenmaid. Fair Companion of my Mistress, says he to her, shall I never obtain of you that favour which you may grant me without any hurt to yourself? Tell me what hour I may entertain Charite freely. 'Tis so long since I have spoken with her▪ that it even grieves me to death. Come at night between nine and ten into the Garden, replies the maid, there you will find her; she commonly rests herself on a green Plate in one of the Alleys, so much is she taken with the cool of the evening; when she is to go to bed, we must ever go and fetch her thence. Lysis thanked the maid for this notice, and promised her not to fail at the time assigned.  
The Sun being already somewhat low, Anselm and Montenor retired, so did the Gentlemen of Amaryllis' quarter; and as for her part, she took Coach with the Gentlewomen her Gatherers. Hircan being unwilling to leave his Mistress, went along with them in the Coach. As for the Countrypeople whom Bacchus had brought with him, they had before taken their leave. Fontenay and the other Shepherds seeing their Host had left them, returned nevertheless to his Castle, and carried Lysis and Carmelin along with them. Now that there is a fresh gale of wind stirring, would you not gladly be a little warmer about the head, says Philiris? this single Laurel cannot keep off the inconvenience of the weather. I feel nothing I swear to thee, replies Lysis; and I would not by any means have been Crowned otherwise in so honourable an Assembly as we have been in; besides, that Charite hath seen me in this posture, which comforts me above all: Not will I be otherwise clothed than I am now, at Hircans Wedding. 'Tis true, that when it is once night, I should not think my hat any inconvenience.  
With such discourse the Pastoral Company came to their ordinary abode; and while Supper was making ready, Lysis addressed himself thus to Carmelin, Thou hast known the best part of my noblest adventures, courteous Carmelin, and I believe there is not any one which thou dost not admire, and celebrate to the heavens, as the eloquent Philiris does, who hath promised me to dispose them into a Romance, that shall go beyond all have been yet seen in the world. But I am not to dissemble or disguise myself to thee: I am not yet satisfied, though it may be said I do but dream when I think to effect any great matters to make my History the more remarkable. I never spoke to my Mistress in any secret place, and I never had any design to steal her away; yet it may be found in Books, that a many Lovers that were not comparable to me, have done all this. 'Tis true, they are not the more to be esteemed for any of all these things, for these were all the adventures they were ever guilty of; whereas I have run through ten thousand: yet must I not omit this. I am resolved this night to speak to Charite, and endeavour to deliver her out of Orontes': for indeed she is not in a condition worthy her perfections. She hath sometimes told me that she was abused, and that she was kept in great subjection. If thou wilt but assist me in this occasion, I will do as much for thee in another. I cannot deny you, says Carmelin; but if I love the great Stone you would have me, would you undertake to bring away such a heavy piece? We shall try, replies Lysis, Love will furnish us with force and artifice. Let's for the present think on what I propose: Know then that I have had notice from Jacquelina, to come into Orontes' Garden, there to see my My Mistress. But I pray tell me, says Carmelin, what shall we do with her when we have her? We will carry her into some strange Country till our friends shall agree to the match, repyed Lysis: But in the mean time, says Carmelin, will you take nothing of her by way of advance? What a proposition dost thou make? says Lysis, that's a thing Pamphilus would never do to Nisa, Persiles to Sigismonda, Lisander to Calista, Polexander to Ericlea; and to go a little higher in the Chronology, what Clitophon never did to Leucippa, nor Theagenes to Chariclea: All these Lovers had about them a modesty which kept them from ask any other favours of their Mistresses then kisses; They lived together like brother and sister; I do not mean as Jupiter with his sister Juno: besides, thou art to know Carmelin, that Charite's thighs are two Pillars of white Marble, which I compare to those which the great Alcides erected at the end of his Travels. There will be found written that there is no going beyond, and that to do it is a thing forbidden our hands, nay our very desires; it is not yet time that the spring of that Beauty should be robbed of its rose. You are so honest a man, says Carmelin, that you shall not need swear that you desire the preservation of Charite's chastity; but that which troubles me is, to know how we shall be transported into those far Countries where you desire to go: It will cost us much to carry all necessaries with us; I know not at present whether your purse be so heavy or no. Must we not go to Bertrands for our Sheep, and take them along with us? That were too great a trouble to us, replies Lysis, that imagination of thine is very rustic: Can people that run away carry a Flock with them? yet I am obliged to thee for what thou hast said, for thou hast often put me in mind of my poor sheep, whereof I have had no great care since we came hither, because our Comedies and other recreations have made me pass away the time the more pleasantly. I know I am to blame that I have not brought them hither to feed with Hircans; But to satisfy thee in the rest, know that we need not be so rich to undertake this design I now have. We will take Charite with us into Hircans Coach, and so we shall be transported immediately into far Countries. We shall want nothing by the way, we shall meet with Magicians that will entertain us, and if there be but Hangings in their Chambers, we shall never die for want of meat. But if they be hanged with Mats, shall we like Asses feed in the straw? Thou are too distrustful, replies Lysis, know that if we please we shall need take no Inn by the way, for we shall be in Italy or Spain in an instant, and there we'll put on Pilgrim's weeds, and so shall be magnificently entertained in the Palaces of some great Lords; for it's seen that in all Romances, Lovers have somewhat charming about them, which makes them be esteemed and sought after by all they meet with, so that they never go into any place but they fare well, they having no occasion so much as to open their Purses. Let what will come on't then, says Carmelin, I'll see the effects of your enterprise.  
As these Shepherds were engaged in this discourse, Fontenay, who commanded all in his Cousins absence, caused Supper to be brought up, and all sat down. Supper ended, Lysis of his own accord put off his Crown and took his hat, thinking it more convenient to wear in the night. He went out secretly with Carmelin, and suffered the rest to go to bed, who thought he had been a-bed too.  
After a many discourses in the fields, Carmelin told his Master, it might very well be about the time appointed; Lysis thought so too, so that he took his way towards Orontes' with his faithful Companion in Love and Arms, who was so desirous to see what he would do, that it was curiosity rather than duty obliged him to follow him.  
They found the Garden door open, Angelica having given order it should be left so, to keep promise with Anselm. This seemed such a fortune to Lysis, who was glad to avoid the scaling of the Walls, that it put him into great hopes his design might have a happy issue. As he went about the Garden to find that grassy place where Charite rested herself, Anselm who was careful of his hour, comes in at the same door, and went directly to the Bower where Angelica was to expect him; she was already there, and waited for him with some impatience. Anselm courted her with all the Love-Complements that a favour such as she had done him could deserve, and as she promised him far greater, if he continued a faithful Love to her, so he made a thousand protestations of an eternal constancy. He was presently paid again by her in the same coin; and this gave him the confidence to kiss his Mistress, as if he wished that their lips pressing one another's, should seal with a Love-signet, the promise they had made.  
Carmelin in the mean time, who had a better sight than his Master, told Lysis he had found a Walk wherein there was a bank of Trifoly, and that he perceived somebody lying down thereon: Lysis looking towards it, thought it had been Charite, but it was only a Faggot dressed and swathed about, which Jacquelina had put there to deceive Lysis; he makes towards it very softly; and as he thought he had Charite by the Coat, the apparition retreats a little: How's this? says Carmelin, your Mistress slides along the grass like a Snake; Speak lower, says Lysis, or hold thy peace lest thou frighten her.  
Having so said, he came nearer and nearer, and took hold of a sleeve stuffed with rags, which was fastened to the Faggot, thinking he then had his Mistress fast enough; What do you here so solitary? my Fairest, says he, do you not fear the Mildew? that you prefer this place before Orontes' house, is it not because you are more dissatisfied then ever? Tell me without dissimulation, for I am come hither to deliver you out of your misery; you shall henceforth be with him, who is more careful of you then himself.  
As he had ended these words, his fair Charite made a great struggle to get out of his hands, for the Kitchen-maid, and some other servants of Orontes' being at the end of the Walk, held a Cord that was fastened to the Faggot, which when they pulled, drew it away; Come and help me Carmelin, said Lysis, there is some rival takes away Charite by the other arm: I must needs think so though I can see none, the night hinders me to perceive it; but yet do not come, lest we should by that means pull this tender body in pieces. Thus was the fair Aristoclea dismembered by her Lovers, who would all have her. Here he pawsed alittle, whereupon the servants having given another good pull, brought away clearly the dressed Faggot. Lisis had nothing left him but an old glove stuffed with paper that had been sewed to the sleeve for to make a hand. Woe is me! says the poor Lover, what have I done? wretch that I am, is not this Charite's hand? my violent pulling of her hath now left her but one hand.  
This he spoke somewhat loud, and the servants made no small noise with laughing, so that Leonora who was not yet asleep, called her daughter to know what was the matter below; she perceiving that she answered not, though she were always easily awoken, concluded she was not a-bed; her Chamber being near hers, she put on her coat, and out of curiosity went in, and not finding her, would needs know what she did: she comes down into the Garden, at the entrance whereof she found the maid and some of Orontes his men: What do you here, what noise you make? says she to them. 'Tis only to put to a trick on Lysis, replies the maid, who took a bush for his Mistress. You want somewhat to do indeed; Tell me where my daughter is: are my brother and sister a-bed? is she not with them? They are a-bed Madam, replies the man, and sure my young Mistress is a-bed too: But she is not, says Leonora, almost out of herself, I must find her out. Having so said, she went directly to the Bower where her daughter was with Anselm; and the two Lovers knowing who it was, were infinitely surprised; and she assoon knew both Angelica and Anselm too: Finding him there at an unseasonable hour, she could not but speak these words to him, Is it thus then Sir, that you abuse my goodness? Are you not content with the honourable Liberty which I have ever granted? Does it not suffice you to speak to my daughter every day in my presence, but you must bring her to this place? As for her part, I shall punish her impudence; she must have a great deal of confidence to leave me to come hither at such time as I think her a-bed Where was it ever seen that Gentlewomen of quality have ever taken so much liberty?  
Leonora was thus chiding both the one and the other, and Angelica answered her already by her tears; when Lysis, who went all about looking for Charite in an extreme affliction, as thinking he had pulled off one of her hands, came into that place, where on the one side there was so much choler, and on the other so much amazement: The first he perceived was Leonora, whom his extravagance made him take for his Mistress, so that he ran to her with his arms open, and having embraced her said to her in a sad accent, Pardon me the outrage I have done you my fairest, there may be means to make all good again; my friend Hircan can do any thing. Who hath brought this fool hither again? says Leonora, thrusting him from her; is it you Anselm? I believe you have brought him purposely from Paris, to amuse me with his extravagances, so that I might not heed your ill designs; you are to blame for it, and you have done what misbecomes the reputation which you have in the world. Anselm desirous to appease this angry Mother, spoke to her in these words, I am yet ignorant, Madam, says he, of that wherein you should think I have committed so great a fault, for I will swear to you that I have done nothing with Angelica which I should not before you: all that you can say is, that I have spoken with her at a time when you thought me far hence; but can you find no excuse for that, and will you not receive that true one which I shall give you? I am so much a lover of solitary walking, that in some melancholic thoughts I came thus far, and finding the door open, came into the Garden; your daughter being walking for coolness, I could do no less than salute her; and our first compliments ended when you surprised us. This is a fine tale to feed fools with, says Leonora, I am not so light of belief.  
Lysis hearing this discourse not without amazement, perceived Charite was not there, and not desiring to be informed of the occasion of this debate, he spoke thus, Tell me quickly where my Mistress is, and suffer me not to languish so long. Alas I have pulled off one of her hands which I have here; it must be sewed to the arm again, and the wound anointed with some Balsam, that while it is yet green the flesh may knit again. Make this fool hold his peace, if you will, Anselm, says Leonora, I can no longer endure his impertinency; he hath no other design in it then to abuse me. I was as ignorant, Madam, as yourself of Lysis' being here, replies Anselm, he comes from Hircans Castle, and not from Montenors'.  
While Anselm discoursed thus, Carmelin came and told his Master that he had no occasion to be troubled, and that he thought he had heard Charite laugh, so that it was to be conceived she had had no hurt: But have I not her hand here, replies Lysis; I pray let me see it, says Carmelin. Lysis gave it him to hold; and Carmelin finding presently it was but a glove, acquainted his Master with it, who coming somewhat to himself, began to see the truth: he took back the glove with admiration, and taking his servant aside, see, says he, there's Anselm in the Bower, he is with Angelica, and questionless he had a design to carry her away. Thou mayst infer from this, I am not the only Lover that hath such intentions; but take notice that Leonora is there too: I took her erewhiles in the dark for Charite; she is extremely angry with Anselm: all this have I observed, though my mind was in an extraordinary agitation: wherefore we were best begun, lest we be taken as accesaries, and be indicted as ravishers of young maids; 'tis true, if things be taken as they should be, I am not so much in fault as my Mistress; for whereas I had only the design to ravish her, but have effected nothing, she hath effectually ravished me; and if I would have ravished her fair body, she hath ravished my poor soul: But these subtle reasons haply are not so easily understood, therefore it's best provide for our own safety; I have already suffered for it. Then, Master, let's begun, replies Carmelin, you shall not need speak to me twice: I have ever feared dangers.  
Hereupon they took the same way they came, without the notice of any body; and when they had recovered Hircans Castle, they both went to bed well satisfied; for though Lysis had not brought away Charite as he intended, yet was he glad he had not pulled off her hand, as he imagined, which made him resolve ever to preserve the glove he had gotten instead of it. As for Carmelin, his comfort was, that he was not beaten, because he imagined that enterprises, such as he had engaged in, were seldom attempted, but at the hazard of the shoulders.  
While they were going their ways, Orontes having heard a noise in his Garden, asked one of his Lacquays what the matter was; he was loath to tell him that it was only a trick put upon Lysis, but chose rather to tell him that Leonora was angry with her daughter: The strangeness of that accident made him presently get up, and putting on a nightgown, he came down into the Garden; he first of all asked his sister in law what was the occasion of her crying out, she in few words told him the cause of her disquiet: I believe your complaints may be just, said he to her, but there are means to remedy all: and thereupon taking Anselm by the hand, he took him aside to tell him, that if he loved Angelica, he should openly acknowledge his pretensions to her, and not make use of these amorous shifts, as being not a little prejudicial to the reputation of young Ladies. Anselm replied, that if he thought Leonora did not slight him, he should think himself much honoured to serve her daughter before all the world, and that he could never dispose of himself into a better alliance.  
Orontes being satisfied with this discourse, went to appease Leonora, assuring her that Anselmes intentions were honourable: and that he had no other design then to marry her daughter. This she gave ear to, knowing that Anselm was rich, and that she could not meet with a better match: She asked his pardon for having been so rough with him▪ and told him that on the morrow they would talk further of the business. Now since it was too late for Anselm to go back to Montenors', Orontes kept him at his house, and sent for one of his Lacquays, who stayed for him in the fields with his horse.  
Montenor was somewhat troubled for his friend who returned not; but betimes in the morning, his Lackey brought him an account of him, and desired him from his Master, to come to Orontes' assoon as he could: he failed not to come, and Anselm proposed the present transaction. The passion of this Lover was more violent then to suffer any delay; so that Orontes and Leonora having drawn up the Conditions of the Contract, he granted all they desired one only thing provided, that there should be no further stay in the business; Leonora made some exception▪ and would not be so hasty saying that she must first return to Paris: But Florida advised her not to put herself to that trouble, so that Anselm, and Angelica were made sure that morning.  
In the mean time Lysis being got up, the first thing he did was to contemplate Charite's glove: he took out all the rags of paper that were within, and when he had unfolded them, thinking they had been Love-Letters that some Rival had sent to his Mistress, he found occasion to quit the jealousy, for he found nothing but pieces of accounts for the Kitchen; those he valued not, supposing they were thrust in there by chance▪ but as for the glove, he folded it up in white paper, to show it some day to Philiris, as an evidence of the design he had to carry away Charite, which would have been as great an ornament to the story, as if he had effected it.  
He and Carmelin being alone talking of divers things, Fontenay and the other Shepherds came into the Chamber. He wondered to see them clad like Gentlemen, and that of the bravest: What, says he to them, will you forsake me, my dear friends? will you continue no longer in the happy condition you had engaged yourselves in with me; Alas! who is the author of this disorder? but if any leave me, let Philiris stay, the incomparable ingenuity that promised me to do such great matters: Do not imagine we shall be guilty of such a signal unfaithfulness as to forsake you, replies Philiris, that we are not now clad as Shepherds, but as the Country requires, 'tis because Hircan is married to day, and that we must be gallant to set forth the solemnity of the Wedding: Nay then you give a good account, says Lysis, and for my part here's my Heroical habit which I have put on with my buskins as doubting much such a business; I will also put on my belt and Sword, and will wear my Crown of Laurel on my head, to do all the honour I can to the incomparable Hircan.  
Lysis having spoken thus, took all his equipage; and being he was invited to the Wedding with the rest, as also Carmelin, they took Hircans Coach for to go to Amaryllis', where the solemnity was kept; There they found Clarimond and his mother, who were in like manner invited: They had been married betimes in the morning, and few people were present; but at Dinner there was a fair Company: They now stayed only for Orontes and those of his house, with Anselm and Montenor, but they came in good time, and excused themselves for having stayed so long, because they had been busy at a betroathing▪ You jest, do you not? says Clarimond, or is it only Orontes his man that marries a Country Lass he's fallen in love with? 'Tis notably guessed, replies Orontes; no, 'tis between persons of greater quality; ask Anselm and Angelica what they know of it.  
Montenor hereupon related the whole truth of the business, whereat they were all very joyful; and yet Lysis could not but break out thus; Since all the world is resolved to be married here, without staying till I marry, to make a fair conclusion of all amorous adventures; why are you not all married together? Why was not Anselm made sure yesterday, that he might have been-married to day as well as Hircan? that had been according to the mode of the most famous Romances, where all the Marriages happen on the same day, and in the same place. Would you not also have them lie all in the same bed? says Clarimond, interrupting him, you give us indeed fine examples by quoting your Fables to us. Do you not yet perceive that they are absurdities imagined at the Author's pleasure? can there be such a concernment and relation between the affairs of seven or eight several Families, that they shall in one day agree all on Marriages? Is there not ever some delay of one side or other? And as for the Weddings of divers persons all in the same place, where hath there ever any such thing been seen? In such a confusion, how can each Bridegroom observe his duty to his friends, and place them all according to their qualities?  
Lysis would have made some lewd reply to this, but his design was prevented by assigning him his place at Table, where he was so placed, that he had a hard task to answer all that should question him on divers points of his Loves. When his mind was any thing at liberty, he fell into a very deep consideration: It came into his mind, that when he was disguised like a maid, he was called Amaryllis; and seeing now another Amaryllis married to Hircan, who was the person she most loved; he knew not whether he might thence presage any thing to his advantage, and that it should signify that he should one day by the Knot of Hymen, be joined to her whom he adored above all things. Besides, this Amaryllis was somewhat like the Nymph Lucida, of whom he thought he had been loved, for whom also he had some spark of affection; but seeing this Lucida had represented Charite to him, and that this Amaryllis had represented to him that Lucida, and that he now saw this Amaryllis between Hircans arms, he ever and anon suffered a viciscitude of imagination, and stood between hope and fear. Thus out of too great superstition, he reflected on particulars of no consequence, thinking thence to presage what was to come.  
In the midst of their dancing after dinner, comes into the Hall the Worshipful Adrian, with his wife Pernella; all that knew them were very glad to see them, except Lysis, who forgetting all other considerations, went to hide himself in the Chimney-corner: You are welcome, says Hircan, I wish you had been here sooner to have dined with us; Truly Sir, replies Adrian, I thank you for your good will, I come hither only to fetch away my Cousin; I have been at a Castle, which I think belongs to you, where I asked for him, but I was told he was here, so that I have caused the Wagon to come thus far out of the way: I had told you I should stay in this Country somewhat longer than my Pilgrimage required, for I have been with a Gentleman that ought me some money, he hath paid me, I thank God, and besides he hath entertained me well till now, which, without offence to you, is a quality seldom found in such people; but it may be he did it to draw me in to trust him further another time: That may very well be, says Hircan, but I pray rest yourselves a little, while somewhat be made ready for your dinner.  
Adrian hereupon said he had dined, and that he desired only to speak with his Cousin, which obliged Meliantes to bring him into the midst of the Hall; Adrian seeing him accoutred as he was, was extremely angry; What, says he to him, wilt thou never give over thy follies? thou every day takest up new fashions: At St. Clou thou wert clad like a Shepherd; the other day thou wert like a Witch, and now thou art like a Player: Well Gentlemen, continueth he, turning towards those that were present, you are to blame to make your sport of this poor lad: 'Tis true, your Cousin finds us much sport, says Anselm, but it shows his ingenuity greater than ours to invent new pastimes: That he is clad as you see him, is only out of gallantry. How now Cousin, (says Lysis, not heeding what had been said in his excuse) are you amazed to see me clad thus? know that I am not simply a Shepherd, but that I am an Heroical Shepherd; you shall find me one day painted in Books as you see me now. Adrian thought not these reasons good payment, and swore he would carry away his Ward with him to Paris▪ You shall stay here two or three days, says Anselm to him, this is but a Wedding: you shall see it is so, and withal consider whether our actions are so much to be found fault with, as that there should be any danger to leave your Ward among us.  
This discourse somewhat appeased Adrian; and though he had a pair of riding Boots on, yet a Gentlewoman went and invited him to dance a Galliard; he durst not refuse her, and took it as an occasion to show what he could have done in his youth. After that they danced a Roundelay, wherein both he and his wife were engaged, as also Lysis and Carmelin, so that it was no small pleasure to see their several postures. The Company decreased by little and little, because some that were invited to dinner, were not to stay supper: There were in a manner none but what belonged to Hircan, that stayed. Adrian and Pernella having stayed the Wedding Supper, though they were strangers, yet were they lodged in another house, for they had need of rest, being quite wearied, both with dancing and travel.  
Awhile after the Married Couple went to bed, and Philiris with his Companions having sung an Epithalamium at the door, as they were to come down; there were Nuts so scattered on the stairs, that they came to the bottom sooner than they desired: Besides which there were a many thrown at them, which made a strange noise; however they had no hurt, and took all in jest; but it made better sport when they understood all proceeded from the Illustrious Shepherd, who had not been with them to sing, but had been on the top of the stairs to show them this trick. You have done nobly, says Meliantes to him, I believe you have ransacked all the Town, to what purpose is it to cast away so many Nuts? Ah! sayies Lysis, with a disdainful smile, how little are you acquainted in the Grecian and Heroick affairs! 'Tis to be learned out of all good Authors, that the Wedding night, Nuts were cast all about the house, that the noise was made in gathering them again, should stifle the crying out of the Bride: 'twas my design to imitate that good Custom. Having by chance found a quantity of Nuts in the Cockloft of this house, I put them into bags, and cast them at you as you passed by: And thus ought we to observe the excellencies we find in the Poets, and ancient Authors. You never mind these things, and that I now appear, is lest you might omit any of the nuptial rites: Have you sung Hymen, Hymen, Hymenaee? Have you invocated Juno? have you lighted the Sacred Torch? We have done all this, says Fontenay, but for your part you have been much out: You have cast away abundance of Nuts, for Amaryllis does not cry out, there's no Maidenhead to lose; did you not know she was a Widow, and that her first husband had the first fruits? You should have kept your Nuts till to morrow that Angelica is to be married: There you might have bestowed them according to the ancient Custom. Whatever's done, says Polidor, we must admire Lysis' ingenuity, to be so ready to put in practice a thing so ancient as that no body thought on't, it being a thing of no necessity in the times we live in, when both widows and maids are so tractable, that they never cry out the first night. For my part, says Meliantes, I am not sorry for my fall, were it not but to learn this Custom of Lysis.  
Philiris hereupon, who was more pleased with this humour then any, went and knocked at the Chamber-dore where the married couple were a-bed, not desiring it might be opened, and bid Amaryllis cry out as loud as she would, teling her no body would hear her, because Lysis had taken order to the contrary, having sown Nuts all about the house, according to the ancient Custom which he finds in his Books. Hircan who had heard the noise, whereof he would gladly have known the reason, was very well pleased at this news, which made him laugh heartily; and as for Amaryllis, she was no less satisfied, as having now shared with him the greatest pleasures of this life. But in the mean time the Dairy-woman hearing the noise of the Nuts cracking under their feet, began to remonstrate the loss she suffered, because all belonged to her. Lysis who was free enough, would have given her money to hold her peace, and let him alone; but his Heroic Coat had neither money nor pockets, so that Fontenay could not but tell him that the Heroes were poor people, since they never carried a halfpenny about them, nor had any bag nor pocket to put in their necessaries, as may be a knife, some sweetmeats, or notes, In the time when these habits were ordinarily worn, says Lysis, a man needed not carry any thing about him; all he met were so courteous as to furnish him with all necessaries. As for Handkerchiefs, were there none worn? says Meliantes, I believe not, for the Histories nor Fables mention no such thing: 'Twas handsome to s●e a Heros wipe his nose with his fingers in a full Assembly, and cast the filth of his brain on the Marble of some Temple, to make it more slippery. Yet it was so then, says Lysis, and it was not absurd, because it was the fashion: We do now things that are more ridiculous, which yet no body wonders at, because every ones does them, and that we have seen them done ever since we came into the world. As concerning the convenience of an handkerchief, I shall only tell you what Montagne says of a Gentleman, who thought nothing so absurd, as that a man should carry about him the filth of his pose pocketed up in cloth, and thought it more convenient, it were presently cast to the ground.  
While this discourse lasted, the Dairy-woman caused her children to gather up the Nuts, and seeing there were but few spoiled, she took comfort; there being still some scattered about, it chanced Lysis got a fall, as if his heels were as quick as his mind. His fall was so violent, that his guard-coat opened, and his shirt that was tied up between his legs was unbound, which because it discovered those parts which civility would have secret, gave occasion of general laughter▪ They also abused him for the inconvenience of his Heroic habit. This gave him occasion to tell them that it was no such offence that a man by chance should show his privy parts, and that the most part of the Golden age knew not what clothes meant. I believe, says Philiris, you are of Doctor Charron's opinion, who is his Book of Wisdom, would persuade us to go naked, proving as much as he can, that nakedness is no shame.  
Philiris said no more, and made the rest give over laughing, lest Lysis might think he was openly abused. They thereupon took Coach, and though it was late, yet returned to Hircans.  
The next day Anselm married Angelica as he had resolved; and as they had been at Hircans and Amaryllis' Wedding, they also came to theirs: they brought along with them Adrian and his wife, who though they much observed civility, yet never fared better than when it cost them nothing. Their Cousin Lysis came with Fontenay and his gang, but he had not his Hero's habit on. He was so sad at his Guardians coming, that he would not clothe himself magnificently; he chose rather to put on his Shepherd's clothes. Adrian thought that Fashion not so extraordinary, and therefore chid him not; Clarimond came also to this Feast, but quarrelled not at all with the Shepherd, because he was engaged in some other discourses.  
There was no great dancing after dinner, so that Hircan and his wife returned to the Castle, and his friends brought Adrian and Pernella, and their Cousin Lysis thither afterward. The poor shepherd was the saddest man in the world, to see that his Cousin was come back to fetch him away in a time when he hoped to be most merry with the new married: Had it not been for him, he would have found out a thousand ways to pass away the time jocundly; and would not have parted from Orontes' without speaking to Charite, or so much as seeing her. His Companions discoursed the best they could to cheer him up at supper, but he took no pleasure in any thing they said.  
Awhile aft●r all went to bed; Hircan was now a lover of the night rather than the day. When he was up the next day, he desired his friends to put on their Shepherd's Weeds again, and to play the fools more than ever, to make sport with Adrian.  
When the honest Citizen was up, he was for his return to Paris immediately, resolving not to go to Orontes's to take his leave of Anselm, because he would not disturb the enjoyments of Marriage: He went only to see Hircan, and gave him thanks for the honour he had done him and his Cousin, telling him he would be no further troublesome to him, but return to Paris, whither if ever he came, he would entertain him the best he could. As he was in his shallow Compliment, Fontenay, Philiris, Polidor and Meliantes came into the room, and Fontenay spoke the first; What, says he, Seigneur Adrian, you will rob us of the dearest treasure we can ever possess; will you take away Lysis from us, who is the Prince of the Shepherds of France? you would carry him into a dirty City, which is not his element▪ 'tis here he takes pleasure to be, you do him as much injury as us: If he go hence, all the Divinities of the Country will bewail his departure, and will endeavour to punish you for it: I understand nothing of your Shepherdry, says Adrian, and my Cousin should know no more than I: His father was no Shepherd, he was a good honest Silkman, as I am; let him follow the way we have gone before.  
Lysis hearing this contestation out of another Chamber, went down presently, where he found Carmelin, and bidding him take his sheephook, as he had his, told him he would go into the fields to hide himself from his Cousin, who would carry him away: Carmelin thought it the best course; he began to be in love with a Country where he had so long fared well; he did not imagine he could meet with a better fortune in Paris: He therefore cheerfully followed his Master; and Lysis meeting in his way one of Hircans Lacquays, desired him to bid Philiris return to his Flock, and come to him secretly in his ordinary Pastures, if he had any thing to say to him. Adrian in the mean time being resolved to carry him away, whatever they said to the contrary, sought him out every where, but not finding him, grew very angry, saying they were much to blame to keep from him a youth that was committed to his Tuition: You know not where you are, says Fontenay to him, if you had spoke to your Ward of this Castle, he would have told you it belonged to a Magician that hath great power: If you do not hearken to our admonitions, do you know how he will punish you, and that justly? He will take such order that you shall never hear any thing again: I care much indeed for all your follies, says Adrian, I defy you all, whatever you are, to do me any hurt.  
The Shepherds having resolved with Hircan what they should do, began to open their mouths one before another, as if they had spoken: sometimes they came near Adrian, and speaking as low as they could, said to him, Well do you hear us now caitiff that slightest the power of the sage Hircan? We are afraid to burst a vain by forcing ourselves to cry out.  
Amaryllis having had notice of this pleasant adventure, came into the place, and moved her lips a long time before her husband: some Lacquays that came in did the like; Adrian seeing all this, and not bearing ought, was extremely troubled: He went into the Kitchen to see if he could hear any thing there; but they had given the watchword to all there to do the like: They came 〈◊〉 him bawling in his ears, and sometimes moving their lips very fast; that put him into such a vexation that he stamped again, and told them it was out of spite obey spoke so low: For their part they seemed to be as mad as a dumb man, who by all his ●ignes cannot make people understand him. Adrian cried out sometimes as loud as he could, What do you say? so to invite them to speak as loud as he: He would fain have met with his wife, to see if he could hear her; but she was gone out with the Waggoner to seek Lysis. At last he was almost persuaded that he was deaf for all his life; but Hircan coming near him, spoke softly in his ear, yet with the same action as if he spoke very loud, My good friend, says he to him, you see you are deaf, ask my pardon for having slighted me, if you will be recovered; I cry you mercy with all my soul, says Adrian, oblige me so far as to restore my hearing to me, and as long as I live I will be your most humble servant.  
Upon that, Hircan brought a little oil on a plate, and with a feather he anointed his ears, to observe some ceremony, which done, he said to him in an ordinary tone, do you not hear me now? O Lord! yes, replies he; What a gallant man are you; I also hear the noise of a Thresher's Flail, and the Turkey-cocks which are in your Court: I should never have heard the Music of our Parish; I should never have heard all the clocks of the City; and I had been an undone man as to my Trade, for I should never have understood any thing but by signs. You should have had this convenience in recompense, says Philiris, that if your wife had been untoward, you should not have heard her scolding: and if our Magician had been pleased to deprive her of her sight, as he hath done you of your hearing, you would have made a fit couple according to the Philosophers, That is, A deaf husband, that he may not hear the tattling of his wife; and a blind wife, that she might not see the ill carriage of her husband; We live so quietly together, replies Adrian, that there is no need of these expedients, I am glad I am not deaf, that I might not fall into that misery of having worse than hanging spoken of me, and I not hear it: Acknowledge then the power of the Master of this place, says Fontenay; know also, that had it not been for him, instead of finding here a Cousin that you look for, you had only found a Tree of his name. This illustrious Shepherd the Gods had once Metamorphosed; he lived within a bark as the Hamadryads do, but Hircan restored him to his former shape; and hath done the same courtesy for a maid of his wife's, called Lisetta, who had been changed into a Cherrytree. I do not mention how he made Lysis put on the form of a maid; that's not so great a miracle; but who will not admire his power, when seeing the Shepherd Lysis and his man Carmelin prepared for strange accidents, he made them invulnerable, as I believe they are still, so that they fought with Giants and Monsters, and received no hurt: Here's my Companion Meliantes, that knows all well enough, 'twas by that means he obtained his Mistress, who was kept in an Enchanted Forress: But observe what is yet most strange in this business; 'twas not in this Country that your Cousin accomplished all these Warlike enterprises, 'twas in an isle six thousand miles distant from this place whither they were carried in a Coach by flying horses: 'tis but four days since they came back; I speak to you of a fresh adventure. The equipage he was in the day before yesterday, when you came hither, was accordingly warlike. If you think I abuse you in all this▪ I give you leave to inform yourself from his own mouth, you will find he will tell you much more.  
Adrian was astonished at this discourse, whereof he understood not much, as being of no experience in Romances. The Lackey who had met Lysis, had a little before, told Philiris his message; but Philiris having no mind to go to him alone, told his Companions that they must break fast so as to need no dinner, and that done, go to the place where he should find their incomparable Shepherd, and carry Adrian with them, to satisfy him at least in somewhat. Upon this his wife returns, who said she could hear nothing of her Cousin: They bid her not trouble herself, for it would not be long ere she should see him. The Shepherds after they had eaten, took every one his Sheephook, and leaving Hircan with his Amaryllis, who was the best company he could desire. They took along with them Adrian and Pernella.  
The End of the Eleventh Book.   

THE Anti-Romance; OR, THE HISTORY Of the SHEPHERD LYSIS.  
The Twelfth Book.  
ALL the way-long Philiris and his Companions entertained Adrian and his wife with the wonders of Lysis his life, and his strange adventures. They knew not whether they should take all for true misfortunes, or for fictions; and that which troubled them most was, to see the serious fashions of those from whom they had those fine relations. They went on till they came near the little house of the Vine-dresser Bertrand, whence they saw Lysis and Carmelin come forth. Assoon as Fontenay perceived Lysis, he cried out to him, Do you hate us so much Shepherd, that you would be gone and not bid us a diew? My journey hath not been far, replies Lysis, and besides, I use no ceremony towards you: But alas! can I call myself a Shepherd and not shed tears? Carmelin will tell you I am a Shepherd without Sheep: 'Tis too true, says Carmelin, Our Host, seeing we came not back in a long time, and that we ought him some money, hath sold our sheep to the first Drover that came by; nay he says we are still in his debt; the poor dumb creatures being so out of case that he could make nothing of them: My Master was much the better to tell him again, that he should have kept them for us, and have sent them abroad every day: He told him he had not the leisure to do it, that they would have grown worse and worse, and that he had a Vintage to look after. That's the true account of my misfortune, says Lysis with a sad countenance; this is all the satisfaction I could get of the rustic beast. The worst on't is, that being unwilling to be at the charge to keep my dear Musedore, a loving cur I had left with him, he hath beaten him so, that he is run away to get a condition somewhere else; If I knew where he was, I would go for him: and if I thought my sheep were yet alive, I would buy them again, though they cost me so much apiece as the whole ●lock stood me in. Here's my Cousin, who once before did me the like discourtesy; but for that time I was comforted by Anselm, as being resolved to leave the place I was in then: As for this Country, the case is not the same, for I intent to live here always, and in the mean time I shall have nothing to do, having no flock to look after. You speak as if there were no more sheep in the world, says Philiris, I undertake you shall find enough; you must not be troubled for such a small matter: That which adds to my grief (says Lysis to him softly taking him aside) is that thou hast not done as I desired thee by the Lackey; thou art not come privately to me that so no body might know where I was, but hast brought Adrian along, who is the only man in the world that I fear, and whom I desire not to be near. I must tell you the reason why I did it, replies Philiris, 'tis because we have prevailed so far with this your troublesome Cousin, as that he is not so eager to take you away: Nay it's more likely he and his wife will stay with us: O God what good news is that, cries out Lysis, if it be so, I will never be sad, for this adventure will furnish me with joy as long as I live. It is then true my dear and sweet Cousins, that it is not your desire I should return any more to Paris (continues he, turning towards his friends) all these Shepherds will be obliged to you, because they esteem my company; but I am moreover assured that you will enter into Shepherdry as well as we: O what a commendable thing it is! you shall be added to the number of the Parisian Shepherds that are to come hither; can you tell any news of them? I will not contradict you for the present, says Adrian, do me only the favour as to tell me what kind of life you have led since you left Paris, for these Gentlemen, whom I have born company hither, have told me strange things, whereof I would be assured from your own mouth▪ You desire what's most just and reasonable, as I am an Heroic Shepherd, says Lysis, since you are he among my friends, to whom Authority hath given me in charge, 'tis fit I give you an account of my actions. It's only necessary we go into the shade; Here we have it, says Polidor, showing him a little thicket; but is there no need you feed your own body before you entertain the minds of others; I and Carmelin have just now been at a banquet where a man fears neither poison nor excess, replies Lysis, bread, nuts and grapes which we bought of the Countrypeople, have been varieties wherewith we have satisfied nature, to reduce ourselves to moderation after the sumptuous Feasts at the Marriages of Hircan and Anselm. A little water taken up in the hollow of the hand out of the fluid Crystal of a Fountain hath afterward banished our thirst, in commemoration of that happy time of the Golden Age, which knew no other drink, nor other cup. There needs not much to satisfy the man who bridles his appetite with his reason; but he that suffers himself to be carried away by the flattery of his sense, though there were a thousand worlds; yet 'twere not enough to satisfy him. These indeed are golden words, says Adrian, who was a lover of Temperance, if you speak thus always, I shall have a better opinion of you then ever I had yet. He having said so, they made towards the thicket, where all being sat down on the grass, Lysis spoke thus.  
Since you are already acquainted with a good part of my life, Cousin Adrian, you desire not I should lose time in long relations; I shall only tell you briefly the sum of my affairs: Being come into this Country with Anselm and Montenor, the first thing we did was, to go and see Leonora and Angelica at Orontes' house, where I must confess to you, I love to be above any place, because Charite lives there, which Charite is that incomparable Beauty by whom I have long since been enchanted: The amorous discourses we had together, are unseasonable as to the present occasion: It shall suffice to tell you that when I parted thence, I made acquaintance with Clarimond, who lives here hard by, one whose disposition pleases me extremely, were it not that he bestows his wit in abuses. The next day I gave my fair one a Serenade with much reputation, for I did wonders on the Gitarre; but in pursuing a Hamadryad that played on the Lute, I lost my way, so that I lay that night in the fields, which was an adventure rather pleasant then troublesome. The next day I met with a Hermit who put me into my way, which I lost again, but so fortunately that I met with the Magician Hircan, who entertaining me very courteously, did me the honour to let me see his naiad Synopa: He afterward changed me into a Maid, and I lived in that condition at Orontes' with all the content in the world. He after that unchanged me again, because they would have put me to death upon a false accusation: And awhile after I met in the fields this Carmelin, whom you see, who told me I was in Brie, and not in Forests; upon which consideration, as also because of his great learning, I took him into my service; and went my ways to Clarimonds, resolved to have no more to do with Anselm and Montenor, who had put such an affront upon me. I sent to buy Sheep, which done, I went to Hircans, where I had almost quarrelled with Fontenay. I was once like to be imprisoned by the Vineyard-keeper: I received a unsatisfactory answer to a love Letter I sent to Charite; and at last my afflictions obliged the Gods to change me into a Tree: I could not become a man again for all Clarimond could do; he did nothing but water me to make me bud forth, and when it was once night, I played, I danced, I collationed with t●e Divinities of the Country. Carmelin would not believe any of these miracles, but I made him taste part of our entertainments: After this Hircan restored me to my former shape. I returned again to Orontes' being as much a man as ever I was, I sent a Letter and a Bill to be posted up and down, to Paris, to invite the Wits of the times to come and see me, which hath already had its effect. About that time I received a heavy Command without Command from Charite, and was sick in imitation of her: I met with Philiris, Polidor, and Meliantes, who were newly arrived into this Country, and I saw two converted Shepherdesses, Parthenice and Amaryllis, one is married to Hircan, and the other was changed into a great Stone. These brave Shepherds here present have all related their Histories to me, which are most admirable: They have seen the Ambassadors were sent to me from the Shepherds of Paris: We have acted Plays before them, to show them how pleasantly we pass away our time; you came hither when we were at one but since that, Hircan scent me to an Enchanted Castle, whence I delivered the fair Pamphilia; but the dangers I ran through were so great, that the very relation is enough to cause horror: I was fifteen days in the air with Carmelin, much higher than the region wherein the Meteors are form; I have been in places blacker than the abode of Pluto: I have fought with Giants, so high as that they might have scaled heaven without Ladders, and with crump-backed and breasted fellows, who seemed to be made to disgrace nature. I overcame also a Dragon, which rose up out of the foam of the Serpent Python, which was killed by Phoebus. And these are my principal adventures, which I am very glad I have had the occasion to relate, both that you may believe, and to rub Philiris' memory, who hath undertaken to dispose them into a Book. When it is perfected you will find these things better described and more adorned; for being to speak to you in haste, I have not had the leisure to screw myself up to any embellishments of discourse.  
Lysis having spoken thus, Adrian was quite beside himself to find that what he said, answered to what the other Shepherds had told him. He knew not what to think of it, and yet he told his Cousin that he did not half understand his language, because his terms were extremely Poetical. He thereupon takes Carmelin aside, and there being no other of whom to inquire the truth of what he desired, said to him, I see thou hast the countenance of an honest fellow, and therefore am I glad my Cousin hath entertained thee, for he must have one to help him in a place which is not his native Country. I will do any thing lies in my power for thy preferment, thou shalt in requital only tell me whether all thy Master hath related be true or no: I shall tell you no more than I know, replies Carmelin; as concerning his transformation into a Tree▪ 'twas not so much as he thought it, for his face could be seen; but for the Divinities which visited him, to pass away the time, I have known by experience but too much of the certainty thereof, as a punishment of my incredulity. As for our Combats with Monsters they are as true as that I am Carmelin; though we got the victory yet did we receive good blows, but I cannot show you any marks to verify what I say, for Hircan had made us both, as he calls it, invulnerable, that is to say, that we could not be wounded.  
Carmelin having said thus, Adrian turned to the rest, and said to them, this honest man doth also confirm what his Master told me; but though I should believe all more firmly than I do, yet it but obliges me the more to take him with me to the good City of Paris, for there's not so much danger there, nor any Monsters to fight with: If any one have done you wrong, there's justice to do you right; and if a Witch should change one thing into another, she may be burnt in the Greve. What simplicities do you speak, good man? replies Meliantes, if your Cousin hath run any danger for me, he hath done the greatest work of charity in the world; and besides that the Gods will reward him, he hath gotten eternal renown thereby: such a reputation as his, cannot be too dear bought. That he hath undergone a Metamorphosis in this Country, and suffered much affliction, it hath been on occasion so noble, that there's not any but could have wished the same fortune. 'Tis for love that he sighs, 'tis for love that he weeps; and which is yet more remarkable! 'tis for the love of the fair Charite: would you forbid him so noble a passion? would you put off humanity to commit such a signal act of brutality? Since you have married the Gentlewoman your wife, is it to be questioned whether you love her? If it be so, would you forbid another man that you could not be without yourself: But is it in your power, or any man's in the world, to hinder Lysis to love, since Nature hath furnished us with the precepts thereof from our infancy? All this is well and good, says Adrian, I know well, that as one hand washes the other, and both the face, so the husband and the wife help one another mutually, and may afterward do good to their whole race: and this is the reason why I married, and I should not be sorry if my cousin were so too, nor consequently can I find fault with him for being in love; but there are many things to be wished in his person, before we entertain any thoughts of that business. We have it from Plutarch that Lycurgus put a note of Infamy on those that did not marry, says Carmelin. They durst not appear at the public Festivities, and in midwinter they were forced to dance naked, singing a certain Song made in abuse of themselves. Besides all this, when they were old, the younger sort of people went before them, and did them no respect. Thus you see how the ancients detested Coelibate, and desired nothing so much as to propagate man, who is the King of all the other creatures. Moreover, happy marriages make us enjoy on earth the felicity of heaven. 'tis all the comfort we have against the miseries of this life: There is no affliction so grievous which the hearts of a husband and a wife joined together, cannot support. Thus the wife of Mithridates, having caused her hair to be cut off, bore arms as well as he, which comforted him infinitely.  
Carmelin having ended his discourse, scratched his head a little, as if he would have made somewhat more come out by the stirring it received from his nails: This start of Carmelin is not to be wondered at, says Philiris, we know he hath his common places as a Sergeant of a Company his Halberds. If all his ancient Lectures came but into his mind, there's no Subject on which he is not able to entertain us: Truly, says Carmelin, when I heard Marriage spoken of, I could not but out with what was at my tongue's end. There's somewhat else in the wind, says Meliantes, questionless thou hast a great mind to be married, and wouldst feign have us find out a wife for thee. But not to quit the discourse we were in before; let's speak to Adrian: We desire him to tell us what fault he finds in his Cousin. He wants many things, replies Adrian, especially that he knows neither Trade nor Traffic to get his living by: How shall he maintain a wife and children? what quality shall he be of in the world? He will be slighted every where, and taken for an idle person: 'Tis true, says Carmelin, that since man sinned, God hath condemned him to get his bread in the sweat of his brows: 'tis said that he that doth not labour shall not eat, and that to do nothing is to do ill; so Solomon sends the idle person to school to the Ant. Hold thou thy peace Carmelin, says Lysis to him, no body asks thee any thing: Thou wilt anon speak more against me than thou canst for me, for thou pourest out thy sentences as they come without any consideration. Be not thou among those that are troublesome to me; I am sufficiently afflicted to be far from my expectation, as also to see that my cousin will not be a Shepherd, nor suffer me to be one, as I had been made believe. Do not impose silence on your man, who speaks so well, replies Adrian, I am glad you are with such a brave Doctor; you have in him a good preceptor; he would show you that you ought not to spend your time here in acting of Comedies and dancing with young maids: 'Twere better be in some good employment, that were the way to find a good match, since you are so much in love, for it is said at Paris, That Offices are the Porters that let a man into the Palace of Marriage. Will you never give over doting, says Moliantes? Is not Lysis in the noblest condition in the world? Is he not one of these illustrious Shepherds which we find in the Arcadia? That we are clad in white, is only in imitation of him; he hath undertaken to restore the felicity of the first age of the world. If you will participate with us, you must be a Shepherd as well as he: Otherwise you must still live at Paris, where all vices are in their thrones, and where you are locked up to the mercy of afflictions and disquiets. The infections are so great, that the Physician often dies before the Patient, and those that carry the dead to the ground, leave them at half way. 'Tis true, says Carmelin, Multitude is never without contagion, and what is worst of all, there is a plague of souls as well as of bodies; I desire my Master's pardon for this word: I'll speak no more. When he speaks only of Shepherdry or Metamorphosis, I seem to be ignorant enough; but when it comes to morality, I'll make it known I am no small Clerk, and therefore 'tis not to be wondered if I lay hold on any occasion to show my Learning. Every one is glad to show what he knows; 'tis I know not how long since I have spoken so much: I pardon thee since thou desirest it says Lysis, but do not interrupt any body but to some purpose. Carmelin observes his time to speak very well, says Polidor, it puts me in mind of those pickeerers in an Army, who charge, and fall off, then charge again, so doing for a many times together.  
Every one was taken with that conceit, and as the Shepherds went on still in discourse, Pernella takes her husband aside, and told him she knew no reason why he should talk so long with people, who seemed to be as great fools as their Cousin, and that if Lysis would not return to Paris, they must were it but to acquaint the rest of his friends with it. He answered, that since the day was far spent, there was no thinking of going till the morrow, because he would not lie by the way, and that then they should see what were to be done.  
In the mean time Clarimond who had been abroad upon some occasions passed by, and alighted to salute the Shepherds. We are here in a great contestation, says Fontenay to him. Here's Adrian who would take away from us the Shepherd Lysis, who is the honour of this Country: He will have him by all means take another course of life, and get into some Office in the City. He is in the right, replies Clarimond, with a smile, and you that would hinder it, I must tell you you are all fools: That's it we would tell them Sir, cries out Pernella, ah! you are a brave Gentleman. For my part I have been these three hours with them, but I durst not open my mouth, lest they should speak to me, for their strange discourses do so amaze me, that I think myself in another world. I'll promise you Mistress, continued Clarimond, to make them find their wits, before a few days be over. They are persons at least of as good quality as Lysis, and yet they will do no good in the world: They entertain themselves with Poetical extravagances, and because they find your Cousin sick of the same disease as themselves, they love his company. I am now come from a great man in this Country who hath promised me to found an Hospital purposely for them; there shall they most charitably by whipped till this humour be over. May that Gentleman have his hearts desire, says Pernella, he must needs be a very devout man, I would I might speak with him, that I might get him to do somewhat for our Cousin: We'll talk of it when we meet next, replies Clarimond, at the present I am somewhat in haste.  
Clarimond in saying this went his way, and the Shepherds would still make Adrian and his wife believe that they would live in a Pastoral way, and that they were not out of their wits. They therefore looked very modestly, and swore that Clarimond himself was mad, and that it would not be long ere he should put on the fools Coat. They advised Lysis not to walk any more near his Castle, nor take any Pastures that way if ever he had any sheep.  
He thought their council very good, and so returned cheerfully to Hircans with his Companions and his Cousins too, since he could not avoid it. Fontenay told Hircan what discourse had passed, wherein there wanted not matter to laugh at. Adrian comes to see Hircan, to whom he said, that he could not but wonder how a man so wise and so learned as he was, would entertain into his house such people as Lysis and his companions, and that he had met a Gentleman who told him they were all out of their wits, which was easily discovered by their actions and words, though sometimes they strove to be very serious. Hircan replied, that that Gentleman was deceived, and that he would give him the lie wherever he met him So Adrian was sent back again with little satisfaction: He and his wife retired to consult what they should do, and Lysis and Carmelin did the like.  
Thou mayst easily perceive Carmelin, says Lysis, that this Cousin of mine who calls himself my Guardian, is a most importunate fellow: Though I were not resolved to pass away my time in the Country, yet should I hardly be brought to live with him in the City. As for his wife, she is no better than he; I must therefore find out some way to get them hence, without force or noise; but the mystery of all will be at the same time to accomplish somewhat that may recommend me to Charite and all posterity. 'Tis there I must make appear the very edge of ingenuity. Without any long preambles, I will in a word tell thee the best expedient I know, and that is to counterfeit myself dead for awhile: Adrian will presently return to Paris, as having no more to do here: But you do not consider, says Carmelin, that he or your heirs will possess themselves of all you have, and you shall be forced to beg: I can re-enter into my possession when I please, replies Lysis: I shall soon make myself known: and besides, though I had nothing of all my father and mother left me, must I be cast down and far ever the worse, since that in all Romances you will find divers in strange Countries having nothing in the world, who yet were Princes or Knights, of better houses than I am of. They lived only by what they borrowed of good friends whom they found every where; does that seem strange to thee? Do the Romances speak any thing incredible as to that point? Sometimes Montenor hath entertained us, sometimes Orontes, sometimes Hircan, nay sometimes Clarimond, though he seem now to be my greatest enemy; and this is a thing not to be passed by without admiration. As plainly showing that all true lovers are favoured by heaven. Thou seest also that Polidor and Meliantes who are of a Country further distant hence than ours, and have nothing of their own, do yet live plentifully enough, by the courtesy of those friends they meet, who are their benefactors. There are in some books Lovers mentioned who have lived only upon Roots in the deserts like Hermits, and divers have been hirelings to Shepherds to get a livelihood: What should hinder but we may do the like if we be brought to that extremity, since 'tis no more than we have done for our recreation? You are wiser than I, replies Carmelin, and therefore all the answer I make you is, that I will not contradict you in any thing, but will be always of your opinion, Hear then what my design is, says Lysis, I will feign myself dead, both to get away this Adrian, and withal, to find out whether my Mistress will have any compassion on me, and that's it I aim at principally. Now there's a great difference between death and a Metamorphosis; for I suffered myself to be metamorphosed into a Tree without any resistance, because there was some hope I might one day be restored to my former shape; but as concerning death, when we go that journey we shall never return: That makes me resolve to die only in jest, for if I should dispatch myself as many have done that I could name, 'twere a strange folly, since 'tis not beyond hope I may one day be happy. There are a many in your Romances that have killed themselves because of the cruelty of their Mistresses; and they again, some of them having notice of their death, have murdered themselves after them, or at least have all their lives repent their cruelty and disdain. It may be seen by this, that if those desperate people had had the wit to feign death, they might have been extremely happy. My intention thereof is so much the more excellent, and there is now no more to do then to bethink us of the means to put it in execution. There are some that hide a pigs bladder full of blood between their skins and their shirts, and give themselves a stab there; they fall and seem to be quite gone, till every one runs to help them; but I do not like that way: a man might hurt himself if the Poniard went a little further than it should; but there are other accidents stranger yet; besides, that when they came to search your wound, the cheat would be discovered, which would be scandalous and laughed at. I will therefore play my game better if I can. I will take a glass of Wine with somewhat in it which every one will conceive to be poison, and when I have drunk it off, I will be as stiff as an iron bar, and will keep in my breath as if I were dead; a while after thou shalt make as if thou hast buried me, and the business is done. Now I will lurk somewhere till Adrian be gone, and Charite being acquainted with my death, shall have time enough to bewail my loss. When thou shalt perceive her grief excessive, and that she wishes from her heart I were alive again, that she might honour me with her affection, which she had denied me before, let me know it immediately, that I may go and take her at her word, and receive the recompense of my afflictions. Now when we are come thus far, there are inventions enough to make the world believe I have been raised again; and thus I shall so much the more ingratiate myself with Charite, who will look on me as a man highly in favour with the Gods. Thus will I compass my desire; and what will most comfort me is, That I have run through all the adventures of the best Histories, and that my own will be the most accomplished in all the world. As for the stealing away of Charite, I think no more on't; 'tis enough I once had such a design. My thoughts are now all taken up with my feigned death; perhaps 'twill be generally believed that I was dead in deed, and was raised again; so that Philiris shall not mention it as a fiction in his book, or if he do, he shall speak of it as an opinion of some few but which he shall condemn as erroneous, affirming my death to have been real.  
When Lysis said this, he thought little of Polidor's being behind him, and hearing all his discourse. This Shepherd having heard Lisis his design, retired as if he had heard nothing, and resolved to give notice to his Companions, that they might act their parts well when the business came upon the Stage. As for Carmelin, his Master's enterprise, to him, was very indifferent, for he thought better to do so then lose him quite, which haply he had done if Adrian had taken him away to Paris. He therefore promised him his utmost assistance, and so they went both to Hircan. Adrian and Pernella came thither at the same time to know whether they might be gone with their Cousin the next day; Hircan told them that after three days they should have him away, desiring in that time, to satisfy himself with his conversation; Pernella told him they could not stay so long, that it was a good while since they had been from home, and that they had left in the Shop but one Apprentice of whose fidelity they were not over-confident. Hircan regarded not much these remonstrances, and while Pernella was thus taken up, Fontenay who had bethought himself of a new invention to make sport, sat down in a chair, whence he pronounced these words with a languishing voice, What my bright Sun, says he, will you leave us already? Would you shine in another hemisphere, whence you will never return? Alas, 'tis fit the world be all served by degrees: Why will you forsake me fair Pernella, the ornament of this age; life of my soul, what will you return to Paris, there to be the Pearl of your Quarter? Continue rather in this Country, where you shall receive greater honours; I will make Verses of you shall make you famous over all the world, and you will be more talked of then Petrarch's Laura. If the fair Cytherea be sometimes drawn by Swans; I would have you like that Goddess, and I will be your sweet singing Swan to draw your glorious Chariot. What do you think on dear Cousin, says Hircan, have you forgot you are married? have you lost all remembrance of the fair Theodora your wife? You must love her eternally, you must not be inconstant: When I married her, I was not acquainted with Mistress Pernella, replies Fontenay, had I known her, I should have loved none but her: 'tis she that is destined for me, let Adrian turn her over to me, I earnestly entreat him, and let him look after Theodora, he shall have her in exchange that he may have no occasion to complain: What trick is this put on me? cries out Adrian, am I come among a sort of Adulterers? what villainy is this to propose to me the greatest basenese in the world! I will have my wife and my Cousin together; if I shall not be suffered to take them away, I will bring the power of justice to do it. You do not consider where you are when you speak this, says Meliantes, no Officer dares come within three miles about of this place. There are in this house charms that can reduce them all to dust: There came hither one once and took one of Hircans men by the chollar, his hand presently fell off, and some Sergeants being somewhat incivil, were all fastened to stakes, and after they were rubbed well with oil and brimstone, they burned a long time to give light to Travellers in the night.  
While Meliantes said this, Lysis asked Hircan whether he and Carmelin were still invulnerable, and whether for his own part, he had not lost that privilege by putting off his Heroic Coat: Hircan assured him he had not, so that he resolved to defend himself courageously, if any Sergeants presumed to touch his body to carry him away to Paris. There came up on this occasion a fresh imagination into his mind, which he never had before: he would needs know how Hircan could assure him he was invulnerable, since he was wounded every day by the darts of love: Hircan told him it was true indeed, that love had wounded him, but that it was before he had made use of his charms, and that besides, he had promised only to fortify his body against the Arms of Mars, but not against the Arrows of Cupid, which are so small that they are invisible, and pierce insensibly through the eyes even to the heart. This satisfied Lysis, and being retired with Carmelin, he told him he was very glad to know he was as invulnerable as when they were in the Castle of Anaximander; and there's one thing, says he, will much promote my design, which is, when I have taken the poison, it will be said that in regard I could not be hurt in any part of the body, and that swords and daggers could do no good upon me, I could not possibly die but by a drink.  
Carmelin approved this, and in the mean time Hircan seeing Adrian was almost mad for anger, entertained him with this discourse. You are to consider my good friend, says he to him, that you are now among Shepherds, whose principal profession is to love: All their books speak of nothing else; they know nothing else, and therefore be not offended at their too free discourses; they are a sort of people that are much given to the exercise of the passions, and will be in the pursuit of a woman ten years, so that at the end of such a term she requite them with a piece of old ribbond wherewith she have tied up her hair: They are not impudent as you think them: their Laws are against it: they do not speak to their Mistresses but they tremble; and if they desired to touch her breast, fear would so benumb them, that their hands would grow stiff at half way. I have a wife as well as you, but if fifty Shepherds, such as Fontenay, should be in love with her, I should have never a worm the more in my head, because I know he is the fearfullest man in the world; and besides, that he hath the reputation to be impotent; you must in yourself laugh at such a man's passion, yet make as if you were angry before him, that he may not take you for an arrant fool: if you carry yourself so, I believe you cannot do amiss, and you may afterward tell stories of your Lovers affections.  
Adrian was not satisfied with these reasons, nor indeed did Hircan endeavour much to appease him; what he had said to him was by way of abuse. Adrian therefore was extremely troubled, and though his wife had turned over thirty, and was black and lean, yet did he think her handsome, and was a little jealous: 'twas an infinite pleasure to see him ever and anon look towards Fontenay, to observe what countenance he made on Pernella. This feigned Lover having fetched three or four deep sighs, fell down all along upon chairs as if he had swouded, whereat his companions seemed much troubled, rubbing his temples, and casting water on his face.  
When they had brought him to himself again, he for a long time stared on all that were about him, Alas! my dear friends, said he, why have you so soon interrupted the sweet ecstasy? My mind pleased itself in the Ideas of all worldly pleasures, and now it knows nothing real but its own affliction: I burn without hope of enjoyment, for an ungrateful woman, that hath not vouchsafed me so much as a look, since I have declared my affection to her.  
Hircan upon this, said that since he was so ill he were best be had to bed, which made his companions lead him to his chamber, making a thousand extravagant postures. Thus these Gentlemen, since they became acquainted with Lysis, were so accustomed to abuse him, that they abused one another, and would not spare Adrian nor his wife, supposing their minds of the same metal with their Cousin, and that simplicity was entailed on the whole race from generation to generation.  
There was only Lysis that stayed with Hircan, who began to bring afresh into his mind the pleasures of their former life, because Adrian was present, whom he would also persuade that the shepherd's life was the most happy. In the mean time Carmelin took occasion to go and see Amaryllis, who was alone in her Chamber, where she ask him what the other Shepherds had done since they were returned? He answered, that he knew not what to say of them, and that they knew not what they did themselves, they were so in love. And is it possible Carmelin can be, and not be in love? Truly Madam, replied he, since I have ever found you my good friend, I will freely tell you what my heart thinks. A man must once in his life at least, discover what his inclinations are. 'Tis possible I may be in love, but not with Parthenice: Were I a stone like her whom my Master will have me love, 'twere not amiss I were joined to her; but then should I not love her neither: and thus would I reason; I would say, that in such a condition I could neither receive nor return any thing of love. Let every thing love what's like it, let stones be in love with stones, grass with grass, plants with plants, and let the vine if it will, climb up an elm: I have often heard it said that this is done by a certain sympathy of nature, whose design is to join all things together: But it makes for me, whatever my Master says; I should sin against nature if I should not love what were of my own species: It signifies much indeed, that Lysis tells me that Ivy scales the walls to show it loves stones, and that I should do so too, as having some relation to the Ivy, since I represented Bacchus. This was the subject of our discourse this morning, where we were alone; but my full and final answer was, that I was a man, and could eat and drink, and not Ivy, good for nothing but to clap on issues. He thereupon told me, that to punish my contempt of the Ivy, the Gods would change me into that plant, and that he thought the part I played in the pastimes of the Vintage, was a great presage thereof, since I was then compassed about with branches which I should one day really bear. At last, quoth he, 'tis the most convenient Metamorphosis for thee, and quoth he, thou art to hope no less. I have given over, quoth he, the design of changing thee into a Fountain, as I once thought, quoth he, when I thought it fit thou shouldst water the bottom of the beloved rock. It will be more proper, quoth he, that thou be Ivy, that quoth he, thou mayst climb up the rock of Parthenice, and embrace it, quoth he, with thy branches. Your discourse indeed is not amiss, I must confess, says Amaryllis, interrupting him, but I must tell you one thing, if you did not use that quoth he, so often, you would do better: I have often heard you use that kind of expression, which is not good, for that repetition is superfluous: but yet I would not tell you so much till now that we are alone. I am obliged to you for being so tender as to the ornament of my language, replies Carmelin, for it is a sign you will show me favour in things of more importance: but I must tell you it is not without reason that I repeat the word quoth he, so often; for 'tis to let you know that it was not I, but my Master said such a thing: if I durst, I would not close up every period, but second every word with it, that you may not be mistaken; and know that all I tell you, is by way of allegation. I should be very sorry you should think I myself said that it was convenient for me to be metamorphosed into Ivy.  
Amaryllis laughed at this very heartily, and confessed that Carmelin's excuse was extreme pleasant, and thought that no other body could have had the wit to imagine such a one, though many in their relations used the like repetition, and that as frequently: However she told him, that if he was troubled to make appear that his Master's discourses were not his, it signified he did not esteem him much: You'll pardon me there, says Carmelin, but I must tell you freely, that my Master speaks many things which a man must not believe, which proceeds from that disturbance of mind he is in by reason of his love, and in this he will not contradict me, for it were not for his credit. Since you will not believe him, says Amaryllis, what is your design then? 'Tis only that I dare not declare myself, lest I should be thought unconstant, replied Carmelin; as for your part Madam you know partly what I would say: I would to God I had seen Lisetta before Parthenice! I say no more. You would tell me, says Amaryllis, that if you had fallen in love with Lisetta before Parthenice, you should have been sent to the former, which you would have been glad of, because she were the better company. I have found out an expedient in this business of yours, for Hircan having related to me all your adventures, told me how that one night, being with Lysis, while he was a Tree there was a Nymph called Lucida, who said that you should have for Mistress the greater of the Hamadriads which were in the Company: She that was spoken of was Lisetta, who is now restored to her former shape. Now it must be said that you have been in love with her ever since that time; and that all the hurt you have said of her since, was only to show how far you were sensible of the smart of your whipping.  
Carmelin was almost out of himself at this good council, which he was the gladder to receive from Amaryllis, because 'twas she had been the Fountain Lucida: She was thanked with almost as many congees as words, whereupon Carmelin left her and returned to his Master, to whom he said that he had concealed a great secret from him out of a certain fearfulness, but that he could hide it no longer. Lysis told him he should be glad to hear it, so that Carmelin acquainted him, that he had been in love with Lisetta, since the time she was an Hamadryad, and that he had obeyed the command he had received from Lucida to love her: Why didst thou not tell me so? replies Lysis, why didst thou profess love to Parthenice, committing an inconstancy, and an infidelity wherein I confirmed thee, as not knowing thou hadst before lost thy liberty? I did no further inform myself, because I thought thou hadst had it still; for when I spoke to thee of Synopa, Lucida, Lisetta, and her companion the Apricock-tree-Nymph, thou saidst they were all witches, and that thou wouldst avoid their assemblies, as those of the Sabat. I beg your pardon for these faults, says Carmelin, my mind was then full of bad opinions: I believe it and pardon thee, says Lysis, it was easily judged that thou never hadst but a feigned passion for Parthenice, since thou didst so soon forsake her, and didst disclaim her assoon as ever that misfortune of losing her proper from happened to her. 'Tis said, that he who leaves off loving, never loved; I did much suspect that there was some reason for thy aversion to that poor Rock: Let's think on't no more, Carmelin, fate hath decreed that thou love Lisetta: Thou art now the happiest among the happiest Lovers in the world, thou livest in the same place with thy Mistress, thou canst speak to her at any time, or thou mayst see her at least: O how would far more illustrious Shepherds than thou art, wish such an adventure, nay even the disgrased and disfavoured shepherd Lysis who must die anon, because he cannot enjoy that happiness Alas! my tongue, discover no more, lest you be overheard of some who are strangers to what hath been resolved in the council of our thoughts.  
Carmelins' joy at this time made no harmony with the sadness of his Master, so that he only thanked him in common expressions for the favour he did him by suffering him to love Lisetta. Lysis in the mean time, whose thoughts were very changeable, resolved to speak thus to Hircan who made towards them. I have been a while since in thy Kitchen, where I observed the kill and dressing of a pig, says he to him, which put me in mind of the ancient sacrifices; wherein they consulted the entrails of the Beasts: 'Twere requisite my Cousin should be desired to sacrifice, to know if he ought to oppose my being a Shepherd. I should also desire to be resolved of it by the flight of birds, and such other ways of presaging: Speak no more of it, says Hircan, I shall use no more persuasion to him, you shall be a Shepherd in spite of all his foolish conceits: Yet would it at least be a noble thing to sacrifice and observe all the ancient Ceremonies, replies Lysis, we should have brought victims for the prosperity of your Marriage, as also to thank the Gods for their assistance to me in divers dangerous adventures. Some Shepherdesses should bring baskets full of Flowers, others Vessels with fire and a romatick odours, and then the Shepherds should lead up the Crowned Victims: Thus should we gain admiration by that excellent order, as a thing that had not been seen of a long time. Men sometimes are not pleased with novelties, if their minds are not prepared to receive them, replies Hircan, and therefore let us not so hastily introduce those customs you speak of: 'Tis true they are ancient, but they would be new to us because they have been so long discontinued.  
Hircan having said this, retired, and Carmelin presumed to ask his Master what were the most certain and remarkable presages besides the flight of birds; He told him that when a man undertook any business, he must observe the persons he first met, and what discourse he had with them, or some other circumstance, and thence make some conjecture at what may happen. Carmelin thought himself able enough for this; and so leaving his Master to his melancholic thoughts, he would go and see his Mistress, but beforehand would try some presage, thereby to know the end of his loves: he went into a place where he found a maid heating the oven, which having acquainted his Master with, he told him that that maid represented Lisetta, who had put fire into his breast; and as for the bread she put in to bake, that showed that the fair one should participate of his flames, and should give him her heart to heat. This good presage could no less than stir up Lysis to seek such another; but he would go more ceremonially to work, and the many other designs he had to bring about, diverted him from thinking on this.  
Carmelin being over head and ears in love, would needs try one more whether he could meet with his Mistress. He came down into a Parlour where he found Amaryllis talking with three Countrey-peoyle, who had brought her some wheat which they ought her for rent. There was a napkin laid at the Tables end, with a piece of salt pork, the better to make them taste a glass of wine. Amaryllis bid Carmelin do as they did, which he would not be entreated twice to do, such was his fear to be troublesome.  
Being all four at Table, there was a Lackey filled them some wine, and laid every man his glass at his trencher; Carmelin seeing the others did nothing but eat, and were not yet disposed to drink, as being not so bold before Amaryllis, he who had a greater gift of confidence, took his glass that sat next him, and drank it clearly off. This it may be was a mistake, for that glass stood as it were between them; but awaile after he took another's glass and did the like, so that for this there could be no excuse; it is to be supposed that he seeing he came off so well, no body saying aught to him, would needs try to show the same trick for the third: He took therefore the third man's glass, and dispatched it so neatly, that there remained not so much left, as to make a ruby on the nail.  
Amaryllis, who in the mean time looked out at the window, turns towards them, and seeing that the Countrymen had taken off their glasses, and Carmelins only stood full before him● she thought they had all drunk but he: Why do you not drink Carmelin, says she to him? you are too bashful. Upon this the Countrymen began to murmur, and Carmelin to laugh. What would these good people say, continued Amaryllis; the Lackey who had seen Carmelin play the trick, went and acquainted his Mistress: She thought it a very pleasant one, yet asked the feigned modest man, why he would drink others men's wine? he answered, That he thought they would not drink any, and that for his part who had much need of it, he had taken it without saying aught, because he was loath to trouble any body to fill so often. Having satisfied himself, rose from the Table, and the Countrymen had other wine. If Amaryllis excused Carmelins' drunkenness, the Lackey who had seen it did not; nor had he suffered it but to see his impudence, and he made it his business to relate this action to his Comrades, to enrage them the more against him: Nor was this all they had to say to him, for they could not but be envious to see Carmelin, who was but a servant no more than themselves, speak as confidently to their Master as if he had been his companion, besides, they could not brook to see him at Table every day with Gentlemen of quality; and their greatest regret was, that they were forced to serve one that was no better than themselves, and presented him with wine as the rest. Upon this occasion they all entered into a league against him, which may teach us not to wonder so much to find envy in King's Courts, since it can find room under the roof of a Country-Gentleman.  
Being therefore at supper, the servants minded not Carmelins drink, whereas at other times they were wont to present him before he asked for it. He shaked his head as he looked on one of the Lacquays, to tell him be wanted somewhat, but the Lackey looking on him as seriously, shook his head as the other did: If Carmelin made any sign with his hand, the other made the like, and all the other Lacquays did the like whenever he made any addresses to them: For they were resolved to punish him now, for having drunk too much at collation. When the fruits were served up he was so dry, that he would have cried out for drink, but that he was loath to make any noise: He therefore rose from the Table, and went and drank at the side-Table himself. Hircan taking notice of it, said that he would have him waited on as well as the rest, and that he would not have his men think themselves his fellows, because he was neither waiting-man nor groom, but might be ranked among Gentlemen dependants, as being received into an association of Shepherdry with Lysis.  
This troubled the servants extremely, but for the present there was no further tumult. Adrian and Pernella sat at Hircans Table, and Fontenay, who still played the discontented person. After a short walk in the Garden, Lysis and Carmelin were dismissed to bed, and for Adrian and his wife, they might when they pleased have done the like. Adrian had all supper time observed whether Fontenay did not out of affection drink out of the same glass as Pernella, or trod not on her foot to appoint the time. He had all the while been in she like disquiets, such was his jealousy, and as they walked, he was almost resolved to tie her to a leathern girdle he wore on his doublet, lest any body might take her away from him. Having therefore seen her a bed in the chamber assigned them, he searched under the bed, and on the bedstead, nay under the very feather bed and mat, behind it, and in the chimney, to see if some body were not hidden there. Finding nothing, he made fast the door with a bar, and besides put a Cupboard against it; and yet he did not think himself safe enough, as fearing there might be some body locked up in a great chest which was near the window, who might force his wife, for he was not only jealous of Fontenay, but of all the other Shepherds. At last finding the Chest empty, he laid himself by Pernella's side.  
He was no sooner a bed, but Fontenay, who was resolved to make what sport he could with him, comes to the door and sings a Court-air with a languishing voice, as if he had been ready to die for love. Hircan helped him with his Lute, and a while after, the other Shepherds and Amaryllis, desirous to share in the sport, made an excellent consort with them. They sung all manner of songs, and that in such abundance, that Adrian and Pernella were almost stunned with the noise. When they had given over, Fontenay fetched three or four sighs, and made this complaint.  
Must then another be master of her whom. I cannot be servant to? Must another body enjoy my soul? Ah my Fairest! why do you slight me? There is such a Nymph of Diana that loves me better than her Mistress. There are those that run after me, and offer me all that I offer you; but I reserve myself for you alone. If you will grant me nothing, yet refuse not my heart, which I present unto you. Do me the favour to accept it, and assure me only by one word of your mouth, that you do it: Let your fair lips, whose motion is the rest of the ear, neatly pronounce what they ought to say to me. Though you lose nothing thereby, yet I shall think myself a great gainer.  
The Shepherd Fontenay uttered a many other amorous discourses, and sometimes sung with the rest. Adrian in the mean time swore he would be gone the next day, though he left Lysis behind him; and that he would sue for reparation for the affronts done him. The more he spoke, the greater noise did they make, that it might increase his madness that he was not heard.  
This diversion having lasted above an hour, the company of Musicians permitted him to sleep. The good man's ears was so stunned, that he thought he should be deaf, as he had been before: however these disquiets were not so great but they suffered him to take some rest. Being gotten up the next day, as he came down to see if there were anymeans to be gone, Carmelin comes out of his master's chamber, and told the other Shepherds that he was very sick. Fontenay and his companions went thither immediately, and Adrian with them, but his wife was not with him; for he had locked her in the chamber while she was a dressing. A while after, Hircan comes in; and Lysis seeing all that company, sat up in his bed and began this discourse.  
The Gods have at length had compassion on me, and delivered me out of Adrian's tyranny. See they have sent me a sickness which I shall never recover. He that having sometime been a tree, aught to have hard flesh: He who hath been invulnerable, who hath quelled so many Monsters; and he lastly, who thought himself so reserved to restore the earth to its first felicity, behold he is beaten down by the first approaches of a fever that have assaulted him. Fear not that says Hircan, be of good courage; what ails you? will you have any thing to breakfast? I have an extreme headache replies Lysis, but I think that when I have drunk a little wine, I shall be able to suffer my pain more patiently and more cheerfully.  
'Twas hereupon considered whether any wine should be given him, for Adrian said, that if it were a fever, it would increase it; but Hircan having felt his pulse, said he had yet no fever, and that he might have what he desired. Carmelin had wine ready in a little bottle, he brought him a glass of it. Lysis drank it off so hastily as if he avoided the tasting of it, and when he had done, he made such wry faces as if it had been physic, and after that, he continued his discourse thus:  
My dear friends, be not amazed that I have with some trouble taken down this wine, though I gave it no long time to stay in my palate: it is because it hath such a lewd taste, that if all the drink in the world were such, you would die for thirst rather than taste any. 'Tis not but that the Territory of Brie is favourable enough to the wines, for the wines of this Country, is in its nature good: but it is because I have made it otherwise on purpose, and having a design to die, I put in the last night a certain poison which I had carried about me a long time to make use of, as I have, when any occasion should present itself. And if you desire to know more particularly why I would at this present dispatch myself, it is not only to avoid going to Paris with Adrian, but also to obey the command of my Mistress. When I asked her a while since, what Laws I should observe under her Empire, she answered me roughly, I command you not to obey me any more. I had much ado to understand this command, and therefore proposed the difficulty of it to Carmelin and Clarimond. All I could gather from their answer was that I should not obey Charite in that command which charged me not to obey her, and contradicted itself; and that I was only to regard her former commands, taking this to signify nothing. This subtle explication had some appearance of truth and I was satisfied with it for wantof a better. But it being not in my power to speak with Charite, to have one from her own mouth, I had a day or two since, a certain inspiration which hath given me all the satisfaction I desired. Methinks I hear it still in my ear, telling me that all those who have offered at any explication of Charites command, understood nothing in it, and that there is no doubt but to have commanded me not to obey her any more, was as much as to bid me die as soon as I could, and not be any longer subject to her laws. Let him therefore, that is unworthy to serve her, die; and in his death will be found the fulfilling of that inviolable Commandment. I command you, says Charite to me, that word tells me I ought to obey her, and that according to her good pleasure I should die. That is a thing soon done, and as for the other part which will have me to obey her no more, that will be executed when my soul and body are separated. This argues not but that I must still love Carite even in the other world, but because I shall be nothing but an unprofitable shade uncapable to do her any service, it may be conceived I shall obey her no more.  
Lysis having ended this discourse, began to roll his eyes in his head and to seign tremble; so that Adrian was in a pitiful taking, and asked Carmelin whether it were true his Master had put any poison into the wine he had drunk. I am sure says Carmelin, that I having brought this bottle hither last night, not knowing what occasion there might be of it, Lysis put I know not what into it: But wretch that I am I was not so careful as to ask him what it was, and yet it will be said that I am partly a cause of his death, by reason of my negligence. Besides that it breaks my heart, when I think he took that mortal draught from my hand, O heavens! why would you suffer it?  
Thus did Carmelin seem to be extremely troubled according to the directions of his Master, and Adrian amazed as much as possible, turned to Hircan, entreating him to apply some remedy to his poor Cousin, and to send for an Apothecary that might give him somewhat to make him cast up what he had taken.  
Hircan and all the shepherds who had been acquainted by Polidor of the dissimulation of Lysis, made as if they were extremely troubled; and one of them tells Adrian that he knew not of any means to give his Cousin an Antidote, though the Apothecary had brought any, because he being resolved to die, would never take it. Yet Hircan made as if he would send a Lackey to the City for that purpose.  
In the mean time Lysis having trembled a great while, pronounced these words with a dying voice. A certain benummedness begins to seize my noblest parts; I am gone my friends. Farewell Shepherds, choose out one from among you, who being the most illustrious, may give you laws. If my advice be of any weight with you, take Philiris. I believe the Parisians that are to come, will be much astonished not to find me; but there is no remedy, I must obey my Mistress one moment, that I may obey her no more: I will execute her command without command. As for your part Cousin, you are partly the cause why I embrace death, for seeing that you would needs carry me to Paris, it should be my endeavour to die, though I received no occasion as being desirous to end my days here, that I may have the honour to be buried by my companions, and in spite of your teeth remain in this happy country.  
This discourse ended, Lysis slides down into the bed, as if he had fainted; and after he had fetched some sighs, he turned to the other side, and spoke no more. He kept himself so much from moving and taking his breath aloud, that the shepherds concluded he was dead, who was the dearest friend they had in the world Carmelin casting himself on his bed, cried out, Alas my poor Master! why would you die in the flower of your age? you might have yet a good while enjoyed the pleasures of life. Ah! since he is dead that comforted us all in our afflictions, says Fontenay, it is fit I die too. He hath showed me the way, I am not less miserable in my Loves than he. I love cruel one whom the relation of my sufferings can make never the more favourable to me. Give me poison as thou didst thy Master, Carmelin: I will take it off presently, and lie down by him that I may die in his company. Am I a common Executioner says Carmelin? Am I an administrer of poison? Had I known that the wine I had given my Master had been poisoned, do you think I would have suffered him to take it? Go seek poison somewhere else, there is no more in our bottle: I would to God there never had been any. If I cannot get poison, cries out Fontenay, I will take a knife and cut my throat; and if I am denied weapons, I shall find some other shift to dispatch myself: I will cast myself out at the window, I will hang myself, or swallow burning coals, and will keep in my breath till I am choked. Take away this desperate person, says Hircan, you Polydor and Meliantes, carry him into some chamber, where let him be chained up as a mad man. O God how does Love let us see this day the strange effects of his mighty power.  
Hircan having said this, Fontenay was conveyed away, and Adrian having himself felt his Cousin, was so simple as to think him dead. He went presently to his wife and told her this sad news. They were both extremely troubled, considering it would be said generally that they were the cause of this poor lads death, for want of having a better care of him; and were too blame to let him go into the Country among strangers, who had so confounded his imaginations, that he died out of despair. Their recourse was to discharge their fury on Carmelin, telling him he was a Rogue, a Traitor, and a Mutherer, and that it was he had put poison into his Master's wine. He reproached them with being the cause of all this unhappiness, and that Lysis had confessed at his death, that he died to avoid going with them to Paris. Hircan came and told them it was irreverent to quarrel in the place where the dead body lay; and that there was as much respect due to the dead as to things sacred. He thereupon causes all to depart the chamber and locked the door, not permitting any to go in, and then takes up Adrian after this manner. Let us speak a little with reason good friend, says he to him: What do you mean by making such a noise here? Will you have all the world take notice that Lysis is poisoned? If that be once known, his body will be taken hence, and justice will proceed against him as a self-homicide. He will be hanged at a Gibbet by his feet: he will have a brand of infamy, and his goods will be confiscate: You that are of his kindred will get neither profit nor credig thereby. All you have of Lysis' in your hands will be taken away, and the children will point at you as they go to school, as being of near kin to one that was hanged. You must therefore conceal the truth, and give out that Lysis died a natural death.  
These considerations unsilenced Adrian and his wife: They had some part in Lysis' inheritance, which would have fallen to them very seasonably, for they had already two children, one tabling abroad, and the other at nurse, and they were not over-rich. As for Carmelin, nothing could make him give over his complaints; these and the like were always his words. I who have so faithfully assisted my master, shall now be no more thought on He that hath laboured shall go without his reward, and they that have done nothiug shall carry away all. Who hath been with Lysis night and day? Who hath fasted with him for companies sake, when there was a necessity? Who hath broke his sleep to entertain him with love discourse? Who made clean his clothes? Who told him fine tales? Who taught him sentences taken out of the choicest Common-places? Alas! It was his faithful Carmelin: Yet he shall inherit nothing of his. Now he is dead, he must be thrust out of doors like a Rogue. Had he but made his Will, I should have seen whether he had loved me me or no; I should have been content with what he would have left me. Must the next of kin whom he loved not at all, and to avoid whom, he is departed the world; be his absolute heirs? 'tis as much as the bestowing on the murderer the goods of him he hath murdered. Here are his friends who pretend to be very sad for his death, but they have not the fiftieth part of my affliction. 'Tis a good author hath taught me, that if heirs have tears in their eyes, they laugh in their hearts and as for that invention of Close Mourning at the burial it was out of a distrust they might not constantly observe the same sadness in their countenance, and that their joy might not be discovered at their eyes, which would be a thing of ill example to the people.  
Thus did Carmelin continue his complaints, which I believe he had studied, but Hircan told him that he would order things so, that his services should not be forgotten, and though his Master had ordered him neither wages, nor consideration, yet should he have what would satisfy him. He bid him not trouble himself that his Master made no will, for that would have been only a seminary of suits, and Lysis' heirs would not have paid what had been bequeathed. To give you an example of these inconveniences, continues he, a rich man making his will, left all he had to a company of his fellow Citizens to dispose of it, and to let his right heirs have what part thereof pleased them. The heir suing the community, the Judge told them: Well, if you are desirous to accomplish the Will of the Testator, you must let this son have what pleaseth you. What division will you make? he shall have a tenth part; and we will have the other nine replied the company. Take then the tenth part to yourselves, says the Judge, and leave the rest to the heir, for he is to have what part pleaseth you. By this querck the lawful heir was restored to his right: but all Judges have not such good judgements as this had; so that it would be very doubtful pleading, both for the Inheritors and Legataries. What ever Lysis had left you, Sir Carmelin, Adrian would have gotten one half, and the Law another. What course shall I take then? says Carmelin, were it not better be in hazard to get somewhat, then to be assured of nothing? What shall I stay for? wretch that I am, fortune never smiled on me in my life. Do you wonder Fortune never smiled on you, repsies Hircan, did you ever see one smile upon the wheel?  
Carmelin understood not this scoff at the first, but at length he remembered that that unconstant Goddess was represented on a wheel: He prayed Hircan not to add to his affliction by deriding his misery: and though Hircan knew he was not so sad as he pretended, yet he swore to him, that in case the heirs would give him nothing, he would satisfy him out of his own.  
About this time comes in a Lackey from Anselm, who said his Master was much troubled about Lysis, having heard nothing from him since the last time he had seen him, and that he was sent to know whether he had been so ill bred as to return without bidding him adieu, or ask whether he would any thing to Paris. My friend, says Hircan, tell your Master that Lysis is just now departed this world. The Lackey would not have believed it, had not Carmelin with a sad countenance confirmed it. He therefore returned with this answer to his Master. Anselm knew not whether it was only a trick put upon him, or that it was true, so that however it were, he thought best to go immediately to Hircans. At the outer gate he met Meliantes, who acquainted him with the whole business. To comply with the brave Shepherds that were there, Anselm counterfeited the disconsolate as much as could be.  
In the mean time Adrian and Pernella asked Hircan what he intended to do with the body, and desired it might be buried, and put into the ground: He shall not be interred to day, says Hircan, his fellow Shepherds will not permit it, their Custom is to keep the bodies two days at least, and then wash them to see if they are quite dead; for there are some who being only fallen into a lethargy have been thought dead, and so buried, they recovering again have died mad. Besides that you are to know that the bodies of Illustrious Shepherds and Heroes, such as your Cousin was, are never intered, that's a thing was never seen. Read all good Authors, and you will find it was never done: We think it a base thing to be thrust into the earth; you cannot do worse with those that die as Malefactors: is there any thing more ignominious then to rot, and to be eaten of worms? Is it not a despicable thing to be bestowed into the grossest of all the Elements? 'tis better choose the purest, as a thing more noble and more desirable. We persons of quality, have our bodies burned after our death. The fire which seems to aspire to the highest sphere, seems tocarry thither with it our Relics, and that our bodies are conveyed to the Gods as well as our souls. Lysis' body shall therefore be burned on a heap of faggots, in the midst of my Court; but there are some necessary ceremonies to go before Hercules was burnt alive before he went to heaven; is there any danger to burn a dead man? the bodies of all the Caesars have been so.  
Adrian who understood nothing of History nor fables, was beside himself at this proposition of Hircan, and protested more than ever to apply himself to Justice for satisfaction for all the injuries he had received. He said they were to blame not to suffer his Cousin to be buried after the ordinary manner, since it did not appear he died a Heretic, nay contrary to Hircans opinion, he maintained that it was an ignominious thing to be burned; nay worse than to be cast into the common shore, since they were the most wicked that were condemned to the fire, as Witches, and Traitors. Philiris stood up to make good what Hircan had said, and would have brought his reasons out of the subtle Wisdom of Dr. Charron; but Hircan told him he must keep within the limits of Poety, and that they ought not to engage themselves in things over serious. Adrian not being able any longer to keep in his vexation, turned to Anselm, and quarrelled with him in this manner; If I come to any trouble for my deceased Cousin, I declare to you now as I did then, and I shall declare to you then as I now do, that I will be righted against you. You have taken this poor youth from under my hands, and though you promised me to treat him well, yet you have brought him hither among a sort of people that have made him run quite out of his wits. 'Tis quite contrary to what you say, replies Anselm, for if they are mad as you see they are sometimes, 'tis your Cousin is in fault; they were discreet enough when he came hither, but he hath perverted them, and filled them with his corrupt opinions. If I had not had a great care of myself, and kept at a distance from him, he would have brought me into the same highway of madness: I have sufficient witness to prove that he would have persuaded me above a hundred times to turn Shepherd. These are cheats, says Adrian, you are all of you old enough to look to yourselves; 'tis not to be conceived that one young man alone should corrupt so many; my cousin could not be worse in any place of the world: these are Ruffians & Atheists that fear neither God nor devil; since I came into this place I have not heard one word of our Religion. How is it that these Apostates are suffered in France, who are worse than Nero's and Julian's?  
Adrian uttered a many exclamations to the same purpose, but Meliantes told him that it were not his best course to use such language, and that he had already felt the greatness of Hircans power. You are an ignorant Cockney, says Hircan very roughly to him, you know not what belongs to Heroic grandeur: Know that Heroes, such as we are, have privileges which other men have not. They live after another manner, they are clad otherwise, they speak otherwise, and they die otherwise. Adrian had an itch to ask whether they had not a Paradise by themselves, but he kept it in for fear of further offence. Consider with yourself if you have a mind to see the Ceremonies we use to the dead, continued Hircan, we will not do any thing the less, or more secretly for you; if you will not appear there, hide yourself where you please; nay the truth is, you are too profane to be present at such sacred Funerals.  
This discourse made Adrian and his wife retire to their Chamber and in the mean time Hircan opens Lysis', whereinto the whole company entered, not excepting Fontenay, who having overcome his despair, thought it sufficient to be sad. Carmelin went and cast the sheet over Lysis' head, who discovered no more motion than before; and the Gardener having brought such flowers and sweet herbs as could be found in that season, all the Shepherds cast of them upon the dead body.  
Hereupon comes in Amaryllis singing an air had been purposely made on the death of the Shepherd. Her voice was so sweet and languishing, that Adrian thought at first she had sung some good prayer, or hymn; but when he understood the sense of what she sung, and the other Shepherds answering her, he was stark mad, because the subject of it was some amorous passion. See here my duck, among what a sort of people we are fallen instead of praying to God for the soul of the poor dead party or sending for Priests to do it, they go even into his Chamber singing French airs whereas the hymns of the Church are in Latin. In the mean time I doubt not but my Cousin hath more need of good prayers, for he died without confession.  
The Music having lasted a good while, he still complained, and in the mean time Carmelin being come out of the Chamber for more branches of Cypress which Hircan wanted, a Lackey met him, and fell on him in these words; Thy glory is now in the dust, poor snake, thou shalt play the fool no more, thou hast lost the master for whose sake thou wert entertained every where. I shall now see thee a poor rogue again. Carmelin was so peaceable a man that he made no return again to these abuses, but fell a weeping to show how great his grief was; but yet in himself he took comfort, when he considered that those who domineered over him, as if he had no dependence of any man, would be one day deceived, when they should find Lysis still alive. He went therefore to the Garden and gathered some Cypress, and carried it quietly to quietly to Hircan. who strewed it all about the Chamber, according to the custom of the Ancients, who held that Tree mournful.  
Carmelin hereupon reflecting on what he had heard Hircan say, that Lysis' body should be burned and not interred, fell into strange disquiets; for as to the effecting his Master's design, it was necessary he should be interred, to the end that there being nothing to detain Adrian in Bris, he might return to Paris, and Lysis get out of the Sepulchre in the night, and go into some private place, whence he might afterwards return to his former way of life; whereas on the contrary, should they burn him, the poor man knew not whether he were not obliged to declare that he was not dead, lest they should commit such a cruelty as to burn him alive. At last he resolved to be patient a while, lest he should have incurred the displeasure of his Master, who would have been angry to find him no better a keeper of his secrets, so that he resolved not to declare the truth, till extreme necessity should require it.  
While he was thus considering, Philiris being gotten up into a chair on his knees, and leaning his hands on the back of it, began to him, as one that prepares himself for a long speech. All the Shepherds sat down knowing his intention was to make a Funeral Oration on the death of Lysis, and every one keeping silence, he spoke thus.  
I am not able to tell you, sad and disconsolate Shepherds, what we have left us we can call good, if we consider what we have lost, unless it be the reflection of our memory on the content and satisfaction we had to possess the incomparable Lysis; for we are rather to continue our thanks to the Gods that we enjoyed him some time, then censure them that they have now taken him from us. They are possibly our crimes have caused it, in that we deserve not to have among us so rare a Masterpiece, to whose excellence heaven and nature had contributed equally. Whether we consider the features of his countenance, and the proportion of his body, or represent to ourselves the delicacy of his disposition, and the excellency of his mind, there was nothing the earth could be worthy of. Nevertheless this common mother of men being desirous to enjoy him eternally, had obtained of Jupiter that he might be received into the quality of Trees, which she nourishes by their roots; but the sage Hircan opposed the decree, and delivered the illustrious Shepherd out of captivity; which though it was honourable, yet could not but be inconvenient. But heaven not being long able to be without its own work, hath prevailed so far as that it hath taken him hence, and it might be easily judged it was resolved to have him, since it was the decree of fate he should expose himself to all manner of dangers to deliver a Lady out of the Prison of an Enchanter, though his principal profession was far from that of a Soldier, Notwithstanding all this, 'twas no violent death snatched him from us; but methinks the first fruits of those delights he now enjoys, should not have been so burdensome to him; a natural death came and gently closed up his eyes, and hath not broken nor cut the knots which fastened his soul and body together, but hath most dexterously and without any violence untied them.  
These words moved Lysis so far, that he almost forgot he was departed. He was ready to speak, and to tell the Shepherds they were to blame to say his death was natural, since it was violent. He thought that if it was not said he had poisoned himself, his hopes would have been frustrated, and he should deserve nothing of Charite. He never imagined it would have been ignominious to him if it should be said he had dispatched himself. The agitation of his mind was so great, that his body moved a little, which Meliantes perceiving, acquainted the Orator with it; but they persuaded him it was an illusion, so that Philiris proceeded in his Oration.  
I should then have told you, Pastoral Assembly, that it was necessary Lysis should die, since it was the pleasure of heaven, but yet there was no consideration should oblige us to receive his death otherwise then with the greatest afflictions that men are capable of. There's none among us aught for ten years be guilty of the least smile, and if any such thing happen it shall be a forfeit. How can we disclaim sadness? since love himself, though a God, is not exempted; and I believe he will no more go naked as he was wont to do, because he must now put on mourning: Nor indeed could he not but be extremely obliged to this Shepherd, as who made it his daily employment, the dilatation of his Empire while he lived, and at his death commended and consigned his soul into his hands to be conducted into that place, where all faithful Lovers are eternally rewarded. I should not tell you all these things, did I not herein obey custom, who will have it so; for I conceive you are all ready to do Lysis all that is due to him, without any excitation from my words. However I shall presume to desire you against to morrow to prepare yourselves for the solemnity of his Funerals, than I shall have more to say then I have now, and then I shall make a particular relation of all his perfections, and the noblest adventures of his Loves, not for your sakes who are acquainted with them; but to satisfy such as are strangers to them that may happen to be then present, and would be glad to understand the life of the Heroic Shepherd, whose design was to introduce among us the felicity of the first age.  
Philiris here ended his discourse, whereof Lysis miss not a word, being extremely elevated with the honour they did him. Hircan caused all the Shepherds to leave the Chamber, and left Carmelin alone to watch the dead body. They dined a while after, and they brought him what he wanted; but though there was not too much for himself, yet was he so charitable, as having locked the door, to present his Master with half, who confessed he never had a better stomach then since he was dead.  
Anselm returned to Orontes', there to give an account of Lysis' pleasant adventure, and to satisfy all as to the report they might have received of his death. In the mean time Adrian and Pernella would needs eat apart, and not go any more among the Shepherds, whom they took for excommunicated and abominable people: Their resolution was not to return till they had seen their Cousin's body put into the ground in spite of all Hircans oppositions; though they had business that much required their hastening to Paris.  
The day being spent in divers entertainments, as every one was pleased to pass it away, it was thought fit Carmelin should lie in the Chamber where the dead body lay, though he seemed to be somewhat unwilling, and the rest were disposed into their ordinary Chambers. Lysis seeing himself alone with his faithful Carmelin, talked with him a good while, and would needs know what was generally said of his death. Having understood that every one bewailed it, he believed it might be some affliction to Charite; and as for the consolation was had about the burning of his body, it troubled him more than all. At last he desired Carmelin to bind a faggot about with clothes, and to put it upon the heap in his stead. Carmelin promised to do whatever lay in his power. The morning was not far spent, but Orontes and all his house came to Hircans, being extremely desirous to see the issue of this feigned departure of Lysis. Montenor and Clarimond were also present, the report it seems having spread so far. All the Shepherds were already entered Lysis' Chamber, when Adrian comes thither once more to relate his afflictions, telling them they were to blame, not to have bestowed Christian burial on the poor deceased party. Clarimond comes in just as he was speaking, so that having known him to be the man he had spoken with in the fields, and finding him more stayed and discreet than any of the rest, he entreated him to stand his friend. Clarimond who was of a very good disposition, went and spoke softly to Hircan, telling him, that he knew not what pleasure they took by persecuting the poor Citizen in that manner, and that he was sufficiently abused. You may perceive well enough, says Hircan, that it is his cousin Lysis hath begun, we have only promoted the business a little; when an humour took him to counterfeit himself dead, would you have us say immediately that there was no such thing? Not so neither, replies Clarimond, the humour was too pleasant to let it die; but let it now have an end.  
Hircan made no other answer to that, then with a ●od approve what he had said; and seeing that Charite was come with the rest into the room, he led her by the hand toward the Shepherd's bed, and said to her, Consider fair Charite, what are the effects of your cruelty: You have given this illustrious Shepherd a Command without Command, which hath been the cause of his death: you are to be commended that you are come hither, to water his body with your tears: It shall be washed with no other; but yet, O cruel one, before you darken the fair Suns of your eyes with the clouds of sadness, be so favourable as to dart some of their rays on this breathless body. It may possibly 〈◊〉, that since you have had the power to make it die, you may by the same power revive it.  
Lysis perceived by this discoutses, that his Mistress was there, and being unwilling it should be reproached to her in time to come, that she was not able to raise up her Lover, he resolved to return immediately into the world in her presence. He therefore raised up his head by little, and having uncovered it with one hand, he rubbed his eyes a long time together, as if he had had a deal of trouble to get them open.  
The Shepherds cried out presently a miracle, a miracle, a miracle of Charite's eyes, this beauty hath not only restored life to Lysis, but even to all his friends who would have died with him. Let us give her thanks, let us adore her, and erect Temples to her as a Goddess. On your knees Shepherds before this fair one, submit yourselves to her. Charite seeing that they came to embrace her knees and kiss the border of her garment, was so bashful that she repented she had come along with her Mistress, and would have run away, had not Hircan held her very fast.  
Lysis beheld her with a languishing look, and after a while said to her, Is it you fair Charite that commands me from the other world after you had sent me thither? What new resolution have you taken? Will you have me stay and languish here for ever? Do not you imagine any such thing, says Hircan, 'tis to restore you to happiness, that you are restored to life. O! if it be so, says Lysis, how much better is it for me to be on earth, then to be in hell, or the Elysian fields, whence I am now come, and where I have seen wonderful things.  
Adrian, who was in the Chamber with the rest to see what should be done, was extremely overjoyed to hear Lysis speak. he went and cried out to his wife that their Cousin was still alive; but Polidor told him that he was mistaken if he thought that Lysis had not been dead at all, and that he had not seen him depart, but that he was raised again both through the charms of Charite, and those of Hircan. Adrian who understood nothing of such miracles, answered not a word, to avoid further dispute, but with Pernella returned to Lysis' Chamber.  
The Shepherd would have risen to have cast himself at Charite's feet; but they told him he were better keep his bed a little, because a man could not die without being very sick, and that there was still some relics of the disease. However he lifted himself up a little higher than he was before, and having a pillow under his head, he began to speak thus to all that were present:  
It is but reasonable, dearly beloved companions, that I tell you from what place I come, and that I give you an account of those things I have seen. My soul was no sooner out of my body, but Live came and seized it to carry it to Hell: I would not have my Cousin Adrian nor yet his wife, whom I see there in a corner, start back at that word; they are not to think that going to hell in the expressions of Shepherdry is to be damned, as it may be they have heard their Parson teach; but it signifies only translation into the other world, which is called hell, because it is lower than this. It is certain that in that place there is a prison for those that are found guilty of any crime, but that is called Tartarus. All men are obliged to go into those subterraneous places to do homage to Pluto, who is the King thereof, unless it happen by especial favour to some to be deified assoon as they are dead, and that some God plunge them into a river to purify them, as Venus did her son Aeneas This honour being not due to me, Love carried me away into hell; for you are to observe that though they are the good or bad Angels which do this Office for all other mortals, yet this little God did it for me, because the fates never commended me into the custody of any other Genius then him. When we had passed down through an obscute valley, we came to the banks of the River Acheron, where Love left me, and I met with the Ferryman, who was going to transport certain souls: I would needs have gone with them into the boat, but he thrust me back with all his might, saying he would not carry me over unless I paid him his fair beforehand. I have no other metal then that which is within me, that is myself: thou seest there are remained in me certain grains of the first age, and that by my virtues I have guilt the iron of the present. Consider if I may not be able to serve thee in somewhat may recompense thy pains; for as to the pieces of brass which others give, I have not brought it with me. All this would have signified nothing had not there been a charitable soul that had a double piece, and said it was for us both, considering she had no further use of money. When I had crossed over and was got ashore, I went to Hellgate, where Cerberus could do me no hurt, because he was at that time tied up with a great iron chain. Being come into the midst of that great Palace, I perceived all the other souls flying before me, whereat I was extremely troubled, for I would have been glad to have discoursed with them, and have asked them how they passed away their time in that place. At length there were two more confident than the rest, who took me and lead me before the three Judges to whom they represented, that Pluto's Kingdom was decaying, if there were not some order taken; for whereas a soul incurred greater torment if it endeavoured to avoid the darkness, I had at once brought so much light with me, that I had frighted all the inhabitants of that low Region. I well perceive the reason of it, says Radamanthus, 'tis the soul of a Lover, whose fire is as pure and as clear as the Sun, it must be plunged into those frozen Rivers, wherein we quench the flames of Ambition, Avarice, and other passions. Let it not be sent thither, replies Aeacus, it deserves far otherwise, we were unjust if we did it: You have not maturely considered the business. Minos was of the same opinion, who having a long time consulted with his brethren, it was ordered I should be conveyed to the Elysian fields. I saw, as I passed by Tartarus, where the sinful are so tormented, that their cries are heard a league off. Tantalus is there, Ixion is also there, and a many others that have offended the Gods. After I had traveled a great way with a spirit that was my guide, I saw the air grew by little and little more clear, and in a moment I found myself in a Country which had light enough to discover the excellent things that were in it. There was a Meadow cheequered with an infinity of flowers, which could not be seen otherwise then by travelling over all the Countries of the world, at the end of that there was a Grove which had as many different trees, and there I met with a many happy souls who began to receive me with compliments for the satisfaction they found in my company. I had not left my civility behind me here, so that I answered them in as courteous expressions. They were all clad in white, and their ordinary recreation was to recite Verses, to play on the Lute or the Gitarre, and not at Cards nor Dice, which was the diversion of evil spirits. As they were showing me all their pleasures, it came into my mind to ask them why we were called by no other name then Souls, and why we were put in the feminine gender, since divers among us had been sometimes men? There was one going to answer me, when I perceived Love hover over my head, who took me in his arms, and carried me so swiftly through the air, that the greatness of the agitation soon ●ulled me asleep, so that I found myself in this place ere I thought on't.  
Lysis having thus ended his discourse, which was a knot of lies invented on the sudden, all admired the fruitfulness of his conceptions. Philiris told him, that as to the doubt he was in, that we were but souls only after our death, 〈◊〉 was not because were were women rather than men, but that not being of one sex more than another, we had been called by a name used in the feminine gender, without any design. Be it as it will, says Lysis, but I am glad that my soul is feminine, for than it shall be of the same sex as the object of its love; since it is the only desire of the Lover to be changed into the thing loved. See fair Charite how great the affection I bear you is, continued he, nay when I was in the other world, I had no other regret, but that I had left this too soon, and had not stayed to see you, that you might not have doubted but that you were the cause of my death: But fate hath laid this obligation on me, that if I died not in your presence, it was in your presence that I was raised up again.  
Charite knew not what answer to make to these fine words, so that when she perceived Hircan loosen his hold somewhat, she made but one stride of the chamber, into the gallery, and as she went down, being followed by no body, she considered of her returning to Orontes' to avoid further abuse.  
Adrian in the mean time was extremely comforced at the arrival of those who were come in last, who seemed to him to be of more stayed minds then the Shepherds. He therefore approaches his Cousin, and asked him whether he would not return to Paris; whereat the Shepherd was extremely troubled, imagining his dissimulation had been all to no purpose, and had not lasted long enough to send away that troublesome Guardian. As he was studying what to answer, Hircan prevented him, saying, he was too importunate in disturbing a poor man, who was but newly returned to life, and that it was sufficient if Lysis had so much strength as to get up and walk about the house.  
This check roughly delivered, made Adrian retire, and Hircan having promised Lysis on his word, that his Cousin should not dispose of him as he pleased, entreated him to rise and come to dinner with the company. He was at that time in so good an humour, that he suffered Carmelin to help him put on his clothes. Hircan had retained to dine with him all that were in the house. As they were ready to sit down, Lysis was like to make an ill meal of it, because he saw not Charite whom he had sought all over the house. He thought the expressions of Love he had made to her, were come to nothing: but Angelica having overheard some of her complaints, would give him some comfort, making him believe that the reason he found not Charite there; was not because that she had left him out of disdain, but that Leonora had sent her to Orontes' about some business.  
On the other side Adrian, who imagined his Cousin would be no better than he was before, had not quitted his desire to carry him away; and his recourse was to Anselm though he had quarrelled with him, but a little before.  
He asked if he might not be permitted to be gone; to which Anselm replied, if you are in such haste you may go your ways presently: but as for Lysis I promise you, that as I brought him hither, so I will bring him hence. Within 15 days at farthest I must be at Paris, there being some occasions that call me thither. It is not so long that there can happen any great alterations in your Cousin's mind, that you should much fear. Adrian was loath to subscribe to this, but Clarimond interposing, advised him to accept what was proposed. He was forced to it out of the good opinion he had of that Gentleman's faithfulness and sincerity. However, since it was too late to get to Paris that night, he deferred his journey till the next day, and Hircan being acquainted with his resolution, made him very welcome, because he gave him that further time to make sport with Lysis.  
While all this was working, Carmelin knew not whether he ought to be merry or sad. As soon as his Master was gotten up, he went to see Lysetta, to whom he had not proffered his service since he had Lysis' permission. His Master's death had taken away all such thoughts. The first proposition he made thereof to her, she only laughed at him for his pains, so that he was very ill satisfied. The worst on't was, that he durst not declare it to Lysis, because he would have given him no other advice then to play the mad Lover like Fontenay. He could not sing to entertain her with Serenades, and could play upon no other Instrument than a Flute. Besides he was a man that would not abate any thing of his rest, to observe your Lovers laws. He returned therefore with these disquiets to dine with persons of honour and quality, as he was wont to do.  
As they were washing before they sat down, Hircans man acquainted him that there was below an ill favoured fellow, and as ill accounted, who had a great desire to come up. How came he to thee says Hircan, said he nothing of any business he had with me? When I saw him alight, replies the man, I asked him what he would have. I am lately come out of Champagn, replied he, and desiring to return thither again, I am gotten out of the way, so that I have hitherto in vain sought out an Inn for to bait in, in these Quarters. You are very ill directed, said I to him, Do you think to lodge here? Do you not know that this is a Gentleman's house, and not an Inn? Notwithstanding these words, he sticked not to tie his horse up to a Lattice and give him some hay, which he gathered up and down near the stable; and very faintly made this reply, Since it is a Gentleman's house, it is better for me then if it were an Inn. I am every day honourably received at Prince's tables, and therefore your Master will be glad of my company, and I desire you only to acquaint him that Musardan is here, that name is sufficiently known all over Europe; they that know it not must needs be such as have not forgotten their pap. Having told me so I thought best not to dispute with him any further, but rather to make haste up to acquaint you with his coming: but because he followed me very closely, I entreated him to stay at the stair-foot▪ as I believe he does still. You will find it is some Master Fool I warrant you, says Clarimond. Do not say so, replies Lysis, art thou come hither again to spite me, and quarrel with all good people that shall come to me? If this Musardan be he I mean, he is one of the most excellent men of this age. I will go and entertain him upon your commendation, says Hircan. He went presently to this man, who had a cloak and breeches of black Serge, with a doublet of Dowlass, foul enough in conscience, so that the person seemed not to be of any great quality.  
This Musardan seeing Hircan coming to him, made a low congee, and saluted him with this compliment, which he had studied before. I crave your pardon Sir, said he to him, that I have presumed to give you a visit so privately; for I believe, that since you may not at any time see those labours of my mind which I have put forth a while since, I may also be permitted to see you.  
He thought he had done wonders in discovering himself by this discourse, that he was an Author of the Times; but Hircan made him this return. 'Tis true indeed Sir, that you have a privilege to visit when you please all those that have seen your excellent Works, and that they are every one obliged to entertain you once at least, so that if you will you need never eat at home; and I must acknowledge that though the Books I think you speak of, never came to my acquaintance, yet shall I be one of those who think themselves not the least honoured to see you at their table.  
Though this answer was full of secret Satire, and touched this Parasite with his impudence, yet he resolved to accept what was proffered him. He told Hircan also that he was out of his way, but that he was happy in the misfortune that had procured him so noble an acquaintance. Hircan without any farther ceremony, desired him to walk up, and sent a Lackey to the stable to see his horse provided for. When he was come into the dining room, he was somewhat put out of countenance to find so many there. Here is a man knows you very well by reputation, says Hircan to him, pointing at Lysis; he hath read the Books you have put out. This is then the Musardan I spoke of, says Lysis presently, let me embrace him, let me kiss him; he is my dear friend though he say nothing of Shepherdry in all his books. In saying this, Lysis embraced him about the neck, and Musardan told him he was much obliged to him that he had vouchsafed to look on his Works. After this Lysis turned to his companions, and said to them, run Shepherds and salute this excellent wit. There are above eighteen books that bear his name, and they are all Love stories. O the rare ingenuity! cried out Phyliris, he teaches us to govern ourselves amidst the violent flames of that noblest passion, which seizeth our souls. Why are not all that live in France like him! Ignorance should then be banished the Kingdom.  
The other Shepherds made some such like exclamations in saluting him, so that it heightened him into an insupportable vanity, and made him believe he had already obtained the general approbation. Hircan commanded a cessation of these compliments, and that all should sit down to table according to their several qualities. Lysis whose memory was very much taken up with the customs of Antiquity, said he did not think fit they should sit all about the table, but only on one side, and leave the other for the Steward and waiters. He wished also they were laid on beds to eat, and not sit on chairs; and his design was that they should not go to the table, but that it should be brought to them, and taken away when they had done. 'Tis very convenient indeed to lie on a bed and eat, says Hircan, for a man hath this advantage at least, that if he be drunk, he is in a good place to sleep. But if we should now get Workmen to make tables and beds as Lysis would have them, we might starve before they were done. Wherefore let us now fall to dinner, another time we'll think on't.  
Lysis made no reply at all, because he insensibly fell into another thought. He thought Musardan to be a very good Author, and was in doubt whether it were not better give him his History to compose then to Philiris, of whose eloquence he had experience only in his discourse, and had no trial of his Elegance, which is a thing requisite to write well. At length, to look further into the man, than he could discover by his books, he thought it not amiss to ask him whether he had not seen the Letter he had sent to Paris, directed to all Poets and Romancists. Musardan replied, that his friend the Fabulistus had spoke to him of a Letter sent from an unknown Shepherd, but that he had not showed it him. Then it seems you are not come hither purposely to see me, replies Lysis, and as concerning that Fabulistus whom you speak of, though he be as great a Poet and Romancist as yourself, as his works speak him; yet it seems according to what you say, he thought very indifferently of my Letter, since he hath not communicated it. By this I perceive you are not of that company of Parisians who are to come hither and turn Shepherds; you should have shown others the way, and you give me occasion to remit of that good esteem I had of you. You see all that are about me clad in white, they are Shepherds, such as I would have you to be also.  
The Shepherds to comply with Lysis, confessed they were all of that happy condition he attributed to them; and to make the better sport, they fell into the most extravagant discourses they could imagine. Their talk was like that of their late comedies, unless it were that they changed their stile oftener, and that the same Shepherd spoke sometimes by Hyperboles, and sometimes Gallimathias. Philiris, who read bad books as well as good, had had the patience to read Musardans', and picked out the ridiculous absurdities; so that having a good memory, he spoke only in the expressions of that Author, which was the best humour of all. 'Twas not to give his words any other sense, they were ridiculous enough of themselves, without any addition. Musardan was nothing moved at it, whether he took no notice of it, or was proud to hear himself quoted.  
As for Fontenay, after he had a long time beheld Pern●lla with a languishing eye, he renewed his discourses of the desperate Lover, whereat Adrian and she were not well pleased; but yet suffered all, as being fully resolved to be gone the next day. Clarimond having observed the divers postures of those Shepherds, thought them such as he could not bear with, so that he was not able to contain himself any longer. He told Hircan that he thought their design was to play the fools perpetually at this house, but that it was now time to break up the enchantment, since they both abused those that knew them and that knew them not; and that for conclusion of the Comedy, Lysis must be convinced of his errors. What errors dost thou mean? says Lysis: ever since I have known you I have done nothing else but told you of them, replies Clarimond, I mean those imaginations which the Romances have infused into you. It's now time you shake hands with them. Thou art then it seems the same Clarimond who contemnest the inventions of good Authors, replies Lysis, I am glad Musardan is come hither so seasonably. He shall maintain his companions quarrel and his own. I have often promised thee that when we met with any able wit of the age, I would give thee leave to say what ever thou canst against the books which thou dost so much hate, that thou mayest be confuted and confounded by one that can tell how to answer thee. I do now take you at your word, says Clarimond. I will set upon all your Fabulists both ancient and modern, we cannot choose a fitter time than now that we are in the most honourable Assembly in the world. For my part I take Anselm for our Judge. Be it so says Lysis, he is an indifferent person, he is not prejudiced for either party.  
Every one having heard this controversy which was newly risen, all endeavoured to advance it by approving it, that that excellent resolution of a fair and regular dispute, might not be lost. Clarimond endeavoured nothing so much as to show his reasons why he hated Romances and Poetry: and as for Musardan, they bid him prepare himself to answer what might be said against his Profession He was so vainglorious as to promise full satisfaction in all things: and as for Anselm, though he would not confess himself able to discharge what was said upon him, yet was he forced to undertake it. They dispatched dinner out of eagerness after the pleasure to hear the pleading of two such famous cases as now presented themselves.  
The End of the Twelfth Book.   

THE Anti-Romance; OR, THE HISTORY Of the SHEPHERD LYSIS.  
The Thirteenth Book.  
WHen the Cloth was taken away, the Judge was seated near the Table, and some others sat on both sides of him; which done, Carmelin, as if he had been Cryer, caused silence to be kept, and for Clarimond, he stood and began thus.  

The Oration of CLARIMOND against Poetry, Fables, and Romances.  
WEre there remaining in the world but a confused memory only of all the fabulous Books which antiquity brought forth, and that there could be seen but the Titles of them some where, I should have no cause to quarrel with a thing whose mischief expired with the age that bred it, and did not survive to injure this: But when I consider that the most absurd imaginations and resueries of the world have outlived those that believed them as articles of faith, and have been transmitted to us though our Religion condemns them, I can not contain myself, but must openly discover how little reason men have to hold so many impertinences for Oracles. The mischief they do, aught to make the greater impression on us, when we find that these ancient follies do not only gain esteem, but men make it their daily employment to invent others in imitation of them. And this is the reason, why (out of a desire to serve the public, and especially some particular men who please themselves in reading or composing such things) I have undertaken to acquaint them how they misspend their time, and what impertinences they are to meet with in Romances and Poetry. He who would discourse of all the ancient Poets, would not in one day see the end of his labour; I must therefore encounter only with the most famous among them and in the first place bring Homer on the Stage, who is called Prince of the Greek Poets: A man needs do no more than read his Iliads and his Odysseys to find all the fopperies imaginable amassed together. I will not tax him with the overturning of the whole History, and whereas it is held that the Trojans overcame the Grecians, he hath feigned that the Grecians overcame the Trojans, to honour his own Country; but there's so much to be said against him, that that may be abated: Let all his Works be read, and there will be found less invention in them then in those of your old Knights of the round Table. The whole subject of the Iliads is briefly this, That Briseis being forced away from Achilles, he stayed all alone in his Ship, and would go no more to the Wars, during which time the Trojans made several 〈◊〉 upon the Grecians, wherein the Grecians being put to the worst, they addressed themselves to that son of Peleus, who would not bear arms till his friend Patroclus was dead he after this kills Hector in a duel, and having fastened his body behind his Chariot, drew it up and down through the Camp. Though this name of Iliad seems to promise an entire relation of the siege of Ilium, which is a Fort, by which was meant the whole City; we find in Homer neither the beginning nor ending thereof; and if we had it not from other Poets, we should have known nothing. 'Twas a strange want of judgement not to put down neither the causes nor progress of so great alterations: 'twould not have cost him much; he had no more to do then to bring it in by way of relation from some old Captains to one new come into the Service: So that whereas we now can hardly understand what was done in two or three months of the War, we should then have been acquainted with the actions of ten years and above, for he says the siege of Troy lasted so long, which so embroyles our minds, that we cannot imagine how both sides should stand it out so long, and what noble adventures passed between them. it had been better Homer had made it his business to tell us that, so to leave a perfect work, then to have undertaken that of the Odysseys. But all this signifies not much, for it may be said he died in his designs, or that some of his works have been lost; we must therefore be content that he hath left us any thing worth our notice. Instead of bringing into Olympus the war of his imaginary Gods fight among themselves, he brings them fight amongst men. He makes them rail at one another, and commit such palpable impertinences, that I know not how the Grecians that did adore them, could possibly suffer him. He makes the God's careful and tender only of the Trojans and Grecians, as if there were no more people in the world. They never speak of any other Nations, whereof there were no small number on earth and whom they were equally obliged to protect. But though they are only troubled to make those two people's fight, and ever and anon have their Assemblies to that purpose, and are as many for one side as the other, yet have they not the wit to reconcile the difference, and prevent the ruin of the most signal Heroes in the Camp. Do you think it a good example for men to see Jupiter and Juno quarrelling every foot, when they were brother and sister, husband and wife? Is it not a fine tale that Jupiter tells that Goddess, when to threaten her, he asks her whether she had forgotten the time that being angry with her, he hanged her up in the air with two anvils at her feet? Was it not a fine sight to see her in that posture, was it not an invention worthy a God? 'Twas indeed an expedient to make his wife longer by a perch. She was also much given to drink; when she was angry, Vulcan to appease her, presented her with a drink, and she had a trick to put her husband asleep, and in the mean time execute all her designs; for though he were King of Gods and men, yet he knew not what was done in the world while he slept As for the Ornaments of this Iliad, you will find them all of a barrel, and that Homer conversed with no other Poetical figures than similitudes; so that he could not express the least engagement or scuffle of the Army, but by one; but that which is most ridiculous is, that they are all of a sort. You will find that a man that's mortally wounded and falls to the ground, is every where compared to a Tree blown down by the wind, or cut down with an axe; and what is yet more tedious is, that in every page almost, you shall find some Heroes furiously assaulting his enemies, ever compared to some wild beast ravaging among a flock of sheep, or a bird of prey, pursuing or devouring the lesser ones. If such comparisons through the book do not amount to the sum of four hundred and better, I'll desire no credit be given to aught I say. Besides these there are others which are not so frequent, yet are they the most impertnent in the world. The Grecians marching in battalia are compared to Cranes which fly in Troops; and in a certain place where they make a great noise about Sarpedon who had been put to death, they are compared to flies buzzing about the milk-pans and the cheese●fats A little after there is the nastiest and loathsomest comparison that could be. Those who drew one against another who should have Patroclus' body, are compared to the apprentices of a Currier liquoring an oxhide to make it supple, and pulling it with their nails to stretch it. As for Homer's language, it must be conceived the Greek is not too pure or elegant, for that seven Cities strove whose Citizen he should be, was only because he made use of so many different dialects, so that it could never be judged what Countryman he was; and I only leave it to be judged what grace it were in one of our Poets, for to make up his rhymes and cadences, to huddle together, with the pure French, the expressions and phrases of Gascony, Picardy, Champagne, and Normandy. And yet this Prince of the Greek Poets who hath done what's as bad, must yet carry away the general esteem; yet I shall be told that some very famous Authors have thought their discourses singularly adorned when they made use of somewhat of his; whereas if a man ask them why they commend him, they will tell you, because he is fraught with sentences; but what sentences are they do you think? They are, for example, such as these.   
That it is not reasonable a Prince, to whose care others are committed, should sleep away his time or be idle; That Jupiter does easily make known his power to mortals, by ordaining whom he pleases to reign: And that it is a great honour for a man to die for his Country.  
Is there any Country-fellow so simple as could not say as much? any man that can speak can do it as well, for reason dictates as much to us, word for word, without seeking to Philosophy, though a man's language know nothing of the flowers of Rhetoric. There are a many that make use of examples drawn out of Homer as moral and political discourses, as to say that Agamemnon wished he had ten Nestor's, that Diomedes had but one companion to accomplish an enterprise. They apply that diversely to their purposes; but what commendation can arise to him hence? Is there any thing so miraculous in all this? Are not the least things in the world applicable thus? It will be inculcated again, that if Homer be not to be esteemed for his language, he should be for the excellent precepts he gives Soldiers; and that the Lacedæmonians who were a warlike people, said he was their true Poet; but that Hesiod, who treated of Countrey-affairs, was only a Poet for the Helots', their slaves.  
I shall not scape the baiting of the Pedants, who will be sure to speak for him who makes them Lord it in the Chair, and will tell me that there being found among Darius' Gods a rich Cabinet, Alexander thought nothing worthier to be put into it then Homer's Iliads, which he had ever under his pillow; but supposing this story to be true, I say the book is never the better for it, and that if that Prince made such use of it, it was for want of other books: For is there any likelihood that he who was so great a Captain, should so highly esteem discourses of War written by a man that was never in any, and speaks of Arms with as much impertinence, as that a Schoolboy that were at this time to write a Romance, could not possibly commit so many faults of judgement: Can there be any greater than to make his Heroes relate long stories on their Genealogies, or some other as trivial discourse, in the heat of the battle, when it should be conceived they had not time to breath, and that the rest who were in the scufflle had not the leisure to hear them? Is there any thing in the world more ridiculous than that combat between Ajax and Hector, which was fought with a great preparation in sight of both Armies? These two valiant Champions having broke a Lance or two, fell to throw stones at one another, and presently the Herald came and separated them, fearing they should come to dispute the business with their swords: Is it not a pleasant combat to make such a noise in the world as it does? Is it not another fair impertinence in another engagement, to make Helenus who perceived that the Trojans had the worse, go and bid Hector charge Hecuba to pray to the Goddess Minerva? why did he not go to her himself, he who was a Prophet? Was there any reason that great Captain should leave his Soldiers to go upon a message which any boy belonging to the Army might do as well? and yet Hector was such a coxcomb as to return to Troy, where he trifles away a deal of time to talk with his wife, and play with his son, while the Grecians committed a great slaughter on their enemies. Alexander was too great a wit to think well of this, and I could never imagine he could esteem himself more unhappy than Achilles, because he had not so good a voice to sing his praises, since he could not but know that if his conquests had been as fabulously described as the siege of Troy, the world would not have believed the least part of them. That he caused a City to be built to the honour of Homer, there's not so much glory in it as it conceived, since he built another to the honour of his horse. This Poet hath nothing that can any way entertain great minds: He makes Heroes do things mean and unworthy, they turn the spit, boil the pot, and they are such gluttons, that to stir them up to their duty, their Captains are to remonstrate to them that they shall have the best bits at the Feasts, and their Goblets full. It may be also easily observed that honest Homer hath not observed any decorum at all: and if we will pass into the Odysseys, we shall that when Ulysses was to depart the Island, where Calypso retained him, that Nymph makes him build his own ship, as if she who was so powerful could not have found some other to have taken that pains instead of her Lover. But 'tis true, he was not only a Carpenter, but a Joiner too, for he had made in her house a fine bedstead, having no other tool but a pair of Cissers, as he makes the relation to his wife at his return.  
These Odysseys are fraught with nothing but absurdities, and that Ulysses whose travels are described in it, is such a simple fellow, that hearing a certain Poet sing the Wars of Troy, at the relation whereof he should have rejoiced, since he had gotten great fame there, he could never refrain weeping; and yet his Host Alcinous is so well satisfied with his person, though he had been found naked as a worm at the river side, that the very first day he asks him whether he will be his son in law: But 'tis true, he makes the proposition very pleasantly, and shows how little he desires it should take effect; for he tells him at the same time, that if he have no mind to stay any longer, he will give him a Vessel to be gone.  
There are the like visible lownesses all through that Book, nothing that's noble or generous. This Ulysses tells foolish tales to his Swineherd: he asks an alms of his wife, and fights with a beggar. One of Penelope's Suitors telling him he should have his share as well as the rest, he cast an oxe-hoof at his head; and if the good man be to relate any thing, he weeps excessively; and the reason why he gives over talking is (says he) that it might not be thought it was the wine that made him weep. I know no reason why that Pallas, who was so strong of his side, should not restore him to his possessions, without suffering him to commit so many simplicities. From all this it may be well conceived that Homer who was the author of all this, was but a Bagpiper, that begged his bread from door to door, and would needs describe some part of his own beggary, under the name of a Prince. But if you think I pass over any noble inventions that may be found in the Odysseys▪ let us now consider if they art worth the mentioning.  
Ulysses was in Sicily when Polyphemus devoured three of his companions, he told him his name was Nobody, so that having struck out his eye, when Polyphemus cried our, and the other Cyclop● running to him, had asked who had done him that mischief▪ he could make them no answer but Nobody, whereat they laughed, thinking he had made himself blind. This is a tale so fond and impertinent, that Country people are able to make as good; and I assure you that ancient servant-maids of this Country have one in imitation of this, that is far more ingenious. As concerning Circe the Sorceress into whole Palace Ulysses comes, I wonder how he could meet with men so blunt, as to make them believe this fable had any thing in it, because by the Grecians changed into swine, are represented the voluptuous; and by Ulysses who kept himself from that charm▪ the virtuous and discreet person▪ but there is a secret in this which ever any Author was troubled with; Homer says that Ulysses lay with Circe a whole year together: Is this the rare example of continence that your Mythologists find here; Were those who had but drunk of a pleasant poison, more blamable than he that had committed adultery with a sorceress? The Poet desirous afterwards to take occasion to make the shades of the dead, do somewhat in their turn, makes it be told Circe that Ulysses must go to hell to speak with the divine Tiresias, to know how he should preserve himself as he went into his Country, as if she who was daughter to the Sun, and a knowing sorceress, could not have done him a courtesy in that point; but there is besides herein a notable impertinency: for without all these ceremonies the silly fool might have as easily returned to Ithacia, as traverse a snacious Sea that brought him into the Country of the Cimmerians, a horrid and folitary passage, through which he was to go into hell.  
Thus are there an infinity of superfluous things in the Odysseys, as well as in the Iliads, where Achill●s is forewarned of his death by his horse, which might have been brought about some other way, without making a beast speak.  
As for the adventure of the Syren's, was it necessary that this Ulysseses who was so wise a man, should be bound to keep him from going to them? As for the principal occasion of the History that mentions the young Lovers of Penelope, who wooed her with so much beat; I find that too, extremely impertinent; for she having a son of age to beat arms, and twenty years being passed over since, must needs be at least forty years of age, so that she could not raise such passion as Homer would make us believe.  
The same thing may be in a manner said of Helen, when she had continued ten years in a City full of desolation, her beauty must needs be decayed, and that might take away much of the eagerness of having her in possession.  
Now I have told you all that lies open to censure in this Poet; its time I speak of Virgil, who without dispute▪ is more polite, as having conversed with great one, yet is he no more censure-proof than the other. I meddle not with his Aeglogues, nor yet with his Georgics, for 'tis not there he hath most showed himself a Poet, and fallen into fabulous narrations. We must pass immediately to the Aeneids, and to show you it deserves not the reputation it hath obtained, besides that the chaste Dido is there innocently calumniated, and that there is a huge error in the Chronologie, in regard Aeneas could not go to Carthage, which was not built in two hundred years after the taking of Troy; I declare to you that there is not in that piece any thing of invention that may surprise an ordinary mind.  
Aeneas being tossed up and down at sea, Juno promises Aeolus a wife on condition he perform her will, as she promises one to Somnus in the Iliad. Aeneas relates to Dido the taking of Troy with the stratagem of the wooden horse, which was an invention absurd enough; but we must excuse this Author, since it is borrowed of Homer, who mentions it in his Odysseys. He afterward gives an account of his Voyage, and how he escaped the Gulfs of Scylla and Charybdis, as Ulysses had done. If that Grecian took a journey to hell, this Trojan must do the like; all that I wonder at is, how they met not there.  
The exercises which were at the Anniversary of Anchises, were the same which were at Patroclus' death. Juturna helps Turnus in the fight, and Venus assists Aeneas, for the Gods are no less concerned in all these affairs then in those of the Trojan War. To quote yet a more studied imitation, as Thetis gave her son a buckler made by Vulcan, Venus gives her son one. I forgot erewhile to speak of this buckler, though it be one of Homer's most egregious impertinences, because I would mention it with that of Aeneas, that so I might compare them together. In the Buckler of Thetis' son, the heavens were represented, with all the signs of the Zodiac, Vulcan had graved therein two different Cities, in the one there was nothing seen but feasting, dancing, and marriages; and in the midst of the Assembly might there be seen two Councillors pleading before the Judges; one said he had satisfied the debt, the other protested he had received nothing; and at length they agreed the business should be referred to arbitration, and the people eryed out that they desired it should be so. The other City was all in arms, by reason of the many factions among the Inhabitants; some lay in ambush near a River, where the herds came to be watered, says Homer, and as two Shepherds came near playing on their pipes, they rushed on them, and having killed them, carried away their oxen and their sheep. This tumult being heard, there came others on horseback to fight the enemy; Vulcan had besides made on this Buckler a Harvest and a Vintage, with some other conceits which I mention not. But was not this an excellent piece of sculpture? This comes nearer a true History than a Picture; and as Homer describes it, it is to be believed that all the persons he speaks of marched in the buckler, and fought one with another, and talked so loud that you might have heard them. There was no less want of judgement in that of Aeneas. Virgil would persuade us that Vulcan had enclosed in it the whole fate of the Roman Empire; and thus he represents it to us: He says there was seen in it the she-wolf that suckled the twins, and Rome at a little distance, where the Sabine Virgins were ravished. There was also represented the War between the two peoples, and then their agreement before the Altar of Jupiter; P●rsenna there besieged the City; Cocles causes a bridge to be broken under him. Cloelia crossed the Tiber on horseback: Manlius stoutly defended the Capitol; the Geese awoke the sleeping Sentinels.  
The Poet describes all these things as if they had happened all of a day. I would fain know how all this could be represented in the same place. For old Rome who Romulus founded, was nothing like what it was in the time of the Gauls: Besides that, it must needs be very hard to represent a City sometimes full of mirth, sometimes of war, sometimes besieged by the Etrusei, sometimes by the Gauls. All these divers faces of affairs cannot be at once described; and Virgil speaks of so many particulars, that to make them be understood clearly, as he relates them; there must of necessity have been above fifty divisions in the buckler, like so many several pictures to represent the different conditions of the City of Rome, and some other affair which passed at some distance; but Virgil never troubled his thoughts with any such order. It may be now seen how well he hath thrived in imitating his predecessor; and if there were an exact inquisition made, it will be found that other places lie as open to censure. He says Vulcan forged a Thunderbolt which consisted of three parts of rain, three of a moist cloud, three of fire, and three of a southwind. Is it not a huge absurdity to make a Smith work in moist things? This cannot be pardoned him, unless it be answered that he is conformable to the other Poets who speak diversely of Vulcan, that the Gods have nothing which comes not through his hands. He makes their Arms, he makes them Jewels enriched with divers precious stones, he furnishes them with Chariots, and he builds them houses, so that at this rate it can never be discovered whether he be an Armourer, a Goldsmith, a Carpenter, or a Mason?  
And thus is Virgil wanting also, as to the distinguishing of things: nor can I learn what age Ascanius was of when his Father went into Italy, for though the Poet ordinarily speaks of him as a child to be carried in ones arms, yet he attributes (very undecently) as much strength and valour unto him as to his Father. Moreover he finds us more work when he speaks of the Golden branch about which the Mythologists have sweated so much; he says that that branch is like the Misseltoe that grows on Oaks; it must be then no small trouble to know what it is, since it must be conceived to be infallibly the Misseltoe itself.  
Ovid shall come next this Poet; as being his contemporary, and I shall only quote his Book of Metamorphosis which is his Masterpiece. His only design in that Book was, to faggot together all the fables which his predecessors had invented; and if he added any thing not written before, they were only old Tales he had learned of the Spinsters in Rome.  
I oppose against all the Divinities he there mentions, that little Treatise of mine, called the Banquet of the Gods, which I believe my Judge hath read, and divers in this company; and as for his several transmutations, I have already made them ridiculous enough by the discourses I have divers times made upon them in so many places, that there's none here present can pretend ignorance. Yet I shall add thus much, that though the Metamorphosis be nothing but an extravagance, yet it is not so much to be found fault with when there is a pertinent reason given thereof, as to say that such a Lover was Metamorphosed into an hourglass, because he should have no more rest after his death than he had before; but to make a man be changed into I know not what Tree, and bring in no occasion that carries any likelihood of such a thing, then is it a thing below contempt.  
Now you shall find that Ovid fails in this particular almost every where; and for to quote his incongruities, a man must quote the whole book: I will only touch at that which seems to be most solid, and fullest of Philosophy. I come to the Metempsychosis, or transmigration of souls he would speak of. He puts down, That Pythagorus said that he had sometimes been Euphorbas, and that in the Temple of Juno he knew again the Buckler he had used in the Trojan War: But how comes it that this impertinence hath been suffered and he not laughed at? I will not reproach it unto him, that the transmigration of souls out of one body into another is a falsehood; we will forgive these opinions in Heathen Poets; but on condition they bring some colour for their lies, and not suffer them to lie open to contradictions.  
Now here's a manifest one, not only in Ovid, but also in all those who second him in the same opinion: For they affirm that the God Mercury being to send away the souls that were in hell, to assume new bodies, makes them drink of the river of oblivion, that having lost all memory of the miseries they had suffered in the world before, they should make no difficulty return thither. It may be inferred hence, that Pythagorus could not call to mind the parts he had played before, and if he could have done so, I would have asked him why others had not the same privilege. I question not but the chiefest glory Ovid can pretend to is, to have knit together so many several Narrations: But in spite of all the Pedants from whom I have heard that said ever since I was a child, I will maintain that couching of them, to be the most impertinent thing in that Poet: He that will fill a book with divers stories, aught to observe some order through his work; as for example, he should follow the Chronology, or treat of every thing according to the several heads which he divides his books into; but Ovid hath done no such thing. His stories do naturally and insensibly arise out of the Metamorphosis, they are nailed one to another; and 'tis easily seen he rather wanders than follows a direct line, so that there's no memory ever so great and happy, which reading his book, must not lose the occasion of the discourse where it is once interrupted. Some Metamorphosis having happened, there chances to be somebody that relates a thing as strange as that, and after his narration, the Author introduces somewhat of his own, and then thinks himself obliged to speak of what had fallen out before in all that Country where this was done. To be short, his method is so unsatisfactory, that I could never read his book but I pitied him, and all those blind people that esteem him.  
There were some other Latin Poets of his time, but they are not very famous, or they have left behind them nothing but Odes and Epigrams, which do us no hurt.  
I come forward to the Italian Poets. There's Ariosto hath made a Romance that's pestered with most absurd inventions. His Fable is an imitation of those of the Knight's errants, and yet it contains many things taken out of Ovid's Metamorphosis. The flying horse of Astolphus is the Pegasus of Perseus, and both those Warriors relieve a young Virgin exposed to a Monster. Any one may find other relations: Besides, the order is so disjointed, that there's above fifty stories heaped one on another. The Author at seven or eight times finishes them, and will leave you two Knights with their swords lifted up ready to strike, to go and see what another does; and then he returns to them and makes them exchange two or three blows, and then leaves them again.  
Thus does he make us languish after his fooleries, and his Knights are transported from one Country into another with as much speed as if their horses had wings.  
As concerning Tasso, we are as much beholding to him as to Ariosto, for having turned our History into a Fable. This last hath made it equisitely impertinent; for though he be obliged to speak as a Christian in his Jerusalem besieged; yet he makes nothing to talk as a Pagan, and bring all the ancient divinities on the Stage. There are a many more who have thus made a confusion of things without any judgement; but it's enough to condemn them all at once.  
To come up to our own time, I shall bring in play the most famous Poet that ever was in France: Any one may conceive I mean Ronsard; and what reputation soever his works have gotten, I shall venture to encounter them. Let a man consider his Sonnets, his Poems, and his Elegies, they are all full of ancient absurdities; and as for his Hymns, wherein he is thought to have been most fortunate, pitch upon that of the four Seasons of the year, which is the most esteemed because the Fables are most of his own invention. The Father and Mother which he attributes to the winter in one, are not attributed in another; and thus does he make the Seasons change parents to accommodate them to his design. As for his Franciad, the same things in a manner may be said against it as against those other pieces of Poetry we have already quoted; for if Virgil hath imitated Homer, Ronsard hath imitated Virgil and Homer together; but the imitation is so low and poor, that it will never be forgiven him. If Pallas hides Ulysses in a cloud when he goes to King Alcinous, and if Venus does the like for Aeneas when he goes to Dido, Ronsard must needs tell us that that Goddess did the same favour for Francus when he was to go to King Diceus, though he tells us not what necessity there was that that Heros should be so hidden. This Francus had suffered shipwreck at Sea as well as Aeneas, and his good Hostesses must needs fall in love with him: He slights them both, though they were very favourable to him, because he still reflects on the destinies who assure him he shall be the founder of a new Troy. All this Aeneas does, and what is yet far more ridiculous, for a more punctual imitation of Homer, Ronsard cannot make his Heroes go three steps without the command of some God. Sometimes Mercury must disguise himself, sometimes Venus; one while he sees them in his sleep, another when he is waking, and a third time he meets with some auguries and predictions, wherein is contained all should happen to him; so that when it comes to pass, it must be repeated once again, nay a third time if there be any body to relate it to, which is so tedious, that it is no small trouble to read him. Is it not still the same invention for want of other? But besides, would it not have been a rude impertinence among the very Pagans, to believe that the Gods should shift from one place to another so suddenly to the relief of a mortal? These Poets never suppose any addresses by prayer to those whom they have undertaken to honour, but they say there was presently thunder heard on the left hand, to assure them that Jupiter heard them. Thunder was very common in that time, in any season of the year. Ronsard must also make his comparisons and descriptions like those he made his Patrons; but though that be a thing hath gotten much esteem with others, for my part it loses with me.  
He makes it a great business to describe the noise of an axe striking against a tree, the great number of boards were sawen to build Ships, how many nails were employed, and the trouble there was to get these great Vessels into the Sea. This is too mechanical, and I should have wished he had rather studied to describe men's divers passions, and things of greater importance; it would have been a matter of greater advantage to the Readers. I will not urge against him his lewd rhymes. He is so conscientious in point of rhyme, that it cannot be judged whether Hector's son was called Frantion or Francus; for, to answer Vanicus, he puts sometimes Francus, and to rhyme ●o? Nation, he says Frantion I will not tell you that his Verses are ill formed, and that there are faults in the syntax; I am so fair and gentle an adversary, that I will not take the utmost advantage against him. Let us only consider the design which Francus or Frantion had to know things to come, which was not to go to hell for it, but by calling up the shades thence, by the means of the Sorceress Hyantha. She brings up to him all the Kings of France his successors, and thence had Ronsard the invention to bring in all our History in his Franciad, which though it be a great volume, yet mentions only the first race, so that there must be two books more as big, for to treat of Pippin and Capet: That had been too too long and tedious, and would have carried with it a remarkable inequality: but what obliged him in the mean time, to mingle our History with his Fables? since so many Authors have written it, we knew it well enough, and it would have suffi●ed to say, that Hyantha related to Hector's son certain actions of Pharamont, Clodion; Meroveus and the other Kings. Does he not show himself rather an Historian than a Poet? If it be objected that this Sorceress was able, word for word, to foretell things to come, and that consequently she must be made tell them; may not I answer, that there is no likelihood that a person possessed with divine fury, as this Sorceress was, could deliver herself in such clear terms, and that with such a conduct▪ as if she had spoken of a thing past, whose particulars she had by heart. The greatest and most credible prophecies that ever were, never had any such order, there is ever somewhat of obscurity, that they which know them, may not forget themselves, but acknowledge those have always need of God; whether it be to explain what they do not fully understand, or assist them to make that effectual to them which hath been revealed. Besides all this, I cannot conceive how it came about that Hyantha who was a gentile, should speak of Jesus Christ, the Church, Baptism, and the contempt of Idols, as if she had been already a Christian; and I wonder how Francus whom she spoke to, and who must admire these strange novelties, should never ask her what she meant: If Ronsard had obtained the pensions he pretended to, certainly he would have done nobler things. He would have obliged us so far as to bring Hector's son to the banks of the Seine, to build the City of Paris to the memory of his Uncle. 'Twas an excellent imagination to believe that he would have called his City by the name of a man who had been the ruin of all their Country and Family; he would rather have called it Hector. Ronsard had no great reason to promote by his Poetry the ridiculous opinion of some foolish Chronologers, who would have the French descend from this Francus, though the name be rather Germane then Phrygian, and that it is not certain that there was a Hector, and that Troy was ever taken. Since this Poet, there have been in France an infinite number of them of all sorts; but since their works are but small and inconsiderable, and that without inventing any fable, they have only renewed the ancient ones, I shall need no other reasons against them, than what I have already alleged against fictions, as for example, that we must permit the ancients to be mad after their mode; and if we should talk idly in our way, and accommodate ourselves to our own times, as they did to theirs, we must make the Gods ride in Coaches or Sedans instead of Chariots, and we should feign that Cupid shoots at us with a Pistol, instead of an arrow, and the fiction were much more natural: For since it must set our breasts a fire, it is much more likely that we are wounded with a flaming bullet, then with an arrow, whose head were only of iron or some other metal.  
And thus indeed might the new Poets translate and set up the ancient Poetry, against which I am briefly to add this, That I find in it no certain rule, and that I cannot imagine how the Gods should be immortal, since there are some of them subject to old age. I am also to wonder why Apollo is still young, since Saturn is grown decrepit, and since I have heard talk of Gods and demi▪ Gods, I could never imagine how any could be half a God.  
The divers Signs which the Poets have placed in the heavens, are no less disturbance to my thoughts; I should only desire to know whether there were any stars in the firmament before they writ their Metamorphosis: But if any tell me I am too capricious in sifting of Poetry, and that I am to blame to endeavour to make it ridiculous, because the fables may haply be so many mysteries, and that there's not any thing which includes not some hidden sense; I answer, That a man may find what he please by way of Allegory in any relation that is, and that of the same subject, an inventive mind may make a thousand explications; but this evinces not that the Poet had any design to disguise such excellent truths under his fables; nay though I should grant that the Poets did purposely disguise certain secrets, I must still nevertheless deny that any of them did it any thing fortunately. There's too much confusion in their fictions, to draw any thing certain out of them. In the beginning of a fable a man may light of a piece of Mythology, because a man may give a thing any face at the first sight; but what follows shall have no acquaintance with it; or if there be any, it will be with a very remarkable violence.  
When Homer says that Jupiter embraced Juno, and that the spring was renewed under them; those who endeavour to explain it, say, that Jupiter is the heaven, and Juno the air; and that when the air is warmed by the heat of the heaven, the earth brings forth plants, as the issue of that congress. This explication thus far is easily made, but how shall it be pursued? Why should the air bear such a spite to the Trojans? Why must Neptune too, who is the Sea, be their enemy? Is it because Laomedon did not pay him his hire for building their Walls with Apollo, who is the Sun? What an extravagance is it to say that the Sea and the Sun built the Walls of a City. But let us see whether Virgil do any better.  
Aeneas is the son of Anchises and Venus; 'twere blasphemy to take this literally; for we must grant that a Goddess had prostituted herself to a mortal: But I will give the Mythologists leave to say, that divers mortals have been reputed the children of Gods and Goddesses, not that they were carnally begotten of them, but to insinuate that they were given to those things which are in the power of those divinities. Thus the valiant are esteemed the sons of Mars, able Musicians the children of Apollo and the Muses, and the honest drunkards the children of Bacchus: Upon the same account Aeneas is said to be the son of Venus, because he was given to Love. This goes very well thus far for this Goddess brings Aeneas to Carthage, where she makes him enjoy Dido, and when he hath done, she promises him another Kingdom and another wife; but when she must come into fights and relieve him, and does other actions which have no relation with Love, what explication shall we find for them, since Venus hath ever been understood to be the pleasure which is found in amorous enjoyments? And thus the sense of fables, given either by Physicians or moral Philosophers, is very clashing and confused, unless they take things all to pieces as they please: But though this could be so effectually done, as that it might serve for somewhat, yet would it not justify the extravagance of the Poets.  
What I have said may suffice to show the absurdity of these explications, and it may serve for a rule to discover all the rest. It's time I speak of the Poets which are now in vogue, who invent not any fables wherein they pretend to any truth, as being not able to advance any higher than Sonnets and Songs. I need say no more against them then what I have said already, when I maintained that their smiles, their charms, and a few drollish expressions, are the greatest ornaments of their works, with the assistance of a few Antitheses, and some Hyperboles. But I am to assure you that they are now at the highest pitch of their art, and that they cannot write any thing which they must not vamp out of their Companions. All their business is to disguise things, which they do so palpably, that they easily put us into an imagination that their Poetry is like an old pair of breeches, which the Broker hath turned and altered so often, that at length he knows not which side to set out. Some will say that their Mistress' eyes are Torches to burn over them when they are dead; and others that they are Suns whence they receive their light and life. There are sometimes some petty contradictions in their conceits, which they accommodate after any fashion to come to their purpose.  
It may be easily seen that all this is but a pure foolery, and that it is an employment much of kin to Love, fit for those have nothing to do.  
There is yet among us another kind of Books against which I am resolved to speak. These Books are called ROMANCES; and to speak properly, 'tis Poetry in Prose; there are a many fashions of them. The first that ever were seen in France, treat only of Knighthood, but they are such Monsters as I shall not meddle with; they are already quelled, and I am confident there are not any in this company that esteem them. Instead of their Enchantments, there are books which treat of things with much more likelihood, and that in my judgement, whereon they were all begotten, is the Romance of Heliodorus. That Fable made after the manner of a History, is not free from the sottishness of the ancient Poets. All the persons he introduces are commonly acquainted in their dreams with what they are to do, so that for to procure good dreams they had no more to do then to whistle.  
That Gnemon whereof Heliodorus talks, is in my opinion a very impertinent fellow: he would always represent the things which Calasiris relates to him as if they were present; and not being content to have said that the ceremonies of an Anniversary were not passed for him, and that the good old man must needs let him see them; he afterward importunes him to tell him who got the race, because he is in as much perplexity for Theagenes as any then present. This humour is repeated too often to be pleasant, and that we may have imaginations like those of Guemon, we must say that the relation hath caused us so much trouble as to the Priest Calasiris. But what a contemptible fellow was that young Grecian! though Heliodorus makes him the son of an Areopagite, yet we are to believe he was one of a low poor spirit. He ever and anon shakes for fear, and hath no more courage than a woman; but indeed it was fit he should not be much more valiant than Theagenes, who is the principal person in the story This man is not guilty of any generous actions, and I know not to what purpose are introduced the History of the siege of Syenea, nor the fight between the Persians and Aethiopians, since he hath no part in so great transactions, and is but a poor captive in chains; whereas it might have been as easy for the Author to have employed him in some noble exploits of war, and so have given us some true satisfaction. Heliodorus hath also forgotten to make his story complete: He should have spoken with Theagenes' parents as well as those of Chariclea.  
The King of Aethiopia bestows his daughter in marriage on a stranger, who can hear no news out of his Country. This History deserves well to be accompanied with that of the Loves of Daphnis and Cloe; the Author makes these young people so foolish, and so discreet both together, that there can be nothing more unlikely: but that which puts me quite off patience is, that I believe that book hath been the occasion that divers others have written books of Shepherdry, and I assure you they have imitated it so well, that they make all their Shepherd's bastards, not knowing neither father nor mother no more than Daphnis and Cloe; and that when they were children, they had been carried away in their cradles by the overflowing of a River, and were afterward found by some body that brought them up. See if Baptista Guarini in his Faithful Shepherd be not such a fool as to make use of the same invention, and if a very many others do not the same still, as if it were of the essence of Shepherdry to be lost in the infancy.  
The Spaniards had Books of Shepherdry before us, Montemajor hath furnished them with his Diana, wherein I find no order at all. Nay what is more, I meet with nothing in it but fables and enchantments concerning Felicia. This Sorceress had a Chamber wherein Orpheus was kept enchanted, though the Poets say he was dismembered by the Priestesses of Bacchus at Thebes. He played on his Harp, and as he sung he acquainted the Shepherds the Statues of what Ladies those were about him: They were the Princesses of Spain, whose lives the Author might very well have known; and this is a huge piece of ingenuity, which a many Authors are beholding to, to relate by way of prophecy what hath been done in their own times. They foretell things after they are come to pass. 'Tis true, the first of our Shepherds, that is to say, Ollenix of Montsaere hath no such thing in his Pastorals of Julietta, but he had done better to imitate that, then have done what was worse. He divides his books into days, and brings the Shepherds together out of the fields and thickets, and never tells us whether they retire, nor how they live. There are a many Satyrs which lie in ambush for the Shepherdesses, but that may be forgiven, since it may be supposed he speaks like the Poets, who make those rural Gods as frequent in the woods, as if they were but Boars or Stags. It is also no less to be observed what he makes those do whose loves he describes. His Shepherdesses are the most impudent things in the world, they do not only discover their passions to the Shepherds without any modesty; but they run after them through hills and dales, as it were to force them to their Loves. Their discourses and their verses are so abominable, that if I read but a leaf, 'tis enough to put my thoughts out of order for fifteen days, if I do not suddenly take some antidote.  
All the adventures a man meets with are no other, then that the Shepherds and Shepherdesses avoid, or seek one another; but to make amends for this, when they are altogether in the same place, there's some one relates a story every day. Though they are many times Shepherdesses that are put upon this task, yet they confidently cite Greek and Latin Authors, (as if it were to be conceived that rustical persons, nay and women, had read so much) and which is more, they bring in the choicest examples out of the Philosophers and other illustrious men. Besides the Author not considering that he made them all heathens, makes them quote divers passages and personages of the Bible. As for example, there was one said,  
That as Tobias who was blind and destitute of all things, became through the means of the Angel more happy than ever he had been; so that poor Lover of whom she speaks, came to be happy by the assistance of his Page, whom God stirred up to relieve him.  
'Tis as true that Ollenix does very much observe the Chronology: For though by all circumstances it should seem that his Pastorals are things as ancient as the birth of Jupiter, since there have not been since that time in Arcadia any such as he describes; yet the find stories that his Shepherdesses tell, relate to passages of these times, one at Vevice, another at Florence, and a third at Barcelona; nay there are some so late as that they happened in the reign of the great King of France. The Shepherdess that speaks, commends that Prince, as though she had known him, which is the grossest impertinence that can be; for though this were not a mistake of the Authors, as to the time, yet is it an oversight great enough, in regard such savage people as he brings in, could not possibly know so many particulars of France, which lay at too great a distance from them.  
After so many defaults of judgement, and the profanation of so many passages of holy Scripture as he hath quoted to so little purpose, I believe, under favour, that if this Author were now living, they could do him no less favour than send him to the Galleys for having so misspent his time. Nor hath England wanted its Arcadia, whereof it is not long since we have had the translation. I find no more order in that then in the rest, and there are many things whereof I am not at all satisfied. At the very beginning you have the complaints of the Shepherds, Strephon and Clavis upon the departure of Urania, without telling us who she was, nor whither she went. Now an Author ought never to begin his book, but he should mention the persons principally concerned in the History, whose actions he is to raise up beyond any of the rest; yet this man makes afterward no more mention of these two Shepherds then if he had never named them; and though he bring them in again at some sports before Basilius, yet that signifies nothing, since a man finds no period of their adventures, and that those verses wherein they speak of their Loves, are so obscure, that they may be taken for the Oracles of a Sibyl. It is true that Sir Philip Sidney dying young, might have left his Work imperfect; but there's no reason we should suffer by that misfortune, and be obliged to take a thing for perfect because it might have been made so.  
There's nothing now hinders me from speaking of Astraea, which I put after the Arcadia, as being a later piece, though we had seen it before the other. I know there are a many defend it, but since I have put myself on this task, can it be thought I should say nothing of it? Is it fit that Book should be called Astraea, since that in all the volumes of it there is more spoken of Diana, Galathea, Silvia and others, then of that Shepherdess? When Hylas speaks in good earnest, and gives greater testimonies of his foul inconstancy, must it not be confessed he is a fool in the highest degree, and that consequently he is not slighted ●s he ought to be? If I could be persuaded he is no fool, and that he did it in a merry humour, I answer, It is a great omission, in such large discourses not to have let slip one word to tell us so, and withal to satisfy us as to what scruples we might conceive upon the inequality of his disposition.  
As for Sylvander, I am in doubt whether the reasons of his Philosophy are always good, and whether he do not sometimes fall into the subtlest of Platonical Ideas. All the Histories which are related concern strange persons, but there is but one and the same invention to bring them all into Forests; 'tis ever some Oracle sends them thither. There are also in some places, very long discourses, which I wish the Author had never made, and endeavoured to make the work complete. Then might we have made a more certain and solid judgement of them. But I dare affirm, from what we have in our hands, that there is no likelihood there were in Forests any Shepherds so civilised in Meroveus his time, since we have the assurance of History that all the Gauls were in those times very savage. I have observed also a horrid fault in the Chronology; for Childerick having succeeded his father, and having been driven out of his Kingdom in the time when all these Loves happened, Clotilda had remained a long time with her Uncle, and was at least sixteen years of age, as she is described. Now Childerick was eight years in exile, and he reigned fifteen years afterward, and his son Clovis did not marry Clotilda till seven years after his death, so that by this account this Princess was above five and forty years of age, whereas our Histories tell us, that she was very fair and very young.  
If the Author must needs invent fables of Astraea, they might have been so couched into the History, as not to make any disorder of time. Notwithstanding all this, and many other things over tedious to relate, that Book hath gotten so into the vogue, that I have divers times heard Lysis and his companions say, that it was the Breviary of the Amorous.  
There are other Romances which speak not of Shepherds, but Princes and Gentlemen. We have of this kind the Argenis, a book I am not so ready to grant that reputation to that many do. You find in the beginning.  
That the Universe had not yet adored Rome, nor the Ocean given place to Tiber, when, upon the Coast of Sicily, where the River Gelas enters the Sea, there arrived in the Port a strange ship, out of which came ashore a young Knight, transcendently handsome.  
Who sees not but this observation is too general for so particular a circumstance? Had the question been about the conquest of one of the four parts of the world, or that an universal change of Religion and Customs had happened over the whole earth, it haply would not have been unhandsome to note the time so particularly; but since it only concerns the time of a Ships arrival in Sicily, it had been enough to have said what it was of the clock, whether it was night or day, Summer or Winter; or what could have been most presumed, it might have been permitted to relate the condition the affairs of that Island were in at that time. To be short, no man will deny me but that if the Author had said that Meleander reigned at that time in Sicily, and that Lycogenes who had taken up Arms against him, was upon the point of concluding a peace when such a Vessel arrived into the Haven, it had spoken more judgement. When there is a failing in the first word, I know not what may be expected in the pursuit: You find immediately after, that a Lady finds two young Knights so handsome, that she made a vow to have their pictures, and though she accomplished not her vow till a long time after, the Author diverts from the narration to relate certain verses which she caused to be put under the picture: This is a disturbance of the order, to acquaint us with a thing which was not very necessary. You will find also all through the book, certain verses which are thrust in to interrupt the History: and I know not any which are not unseasonably brought in, except some hymns that are sung to the honour of the Gods: As for the divers adventures that are in it, there is not any thing more miraculous than what we find in ordinary Love-stories. A young Prince is brought up obscurely, for fear he might have been made away: Certain robbers carry him away, and sell him to a King, that makes as much of him as if he were his own son. This King losing a battle, the young Prince is taken and carried into his Country, where he is redeemed by his mother. A while after it being discovered what he was, the fame of Argenis' beauty makes him fall in love with her. He goes into Sicily disguised as a maid to live with her. Certain Rebels being desirous to have killed K. Meleander, he defends him, and after he had made himself known to his Mistress, goes away. A while after he returns again in man's habit, and obtains the favour of Meleander and Argenis; but at length his enemies force him to quit Sicily: He is carried twice into Mauritania, and the second time he relieves the Queen of that Country. She sends him back with Archombrotus, who is acknowledged to be the son of Meleander, who quitting the pretensions he had to marry Argenis, he resigns her to Poliarchus.  
This is a summary of all the story wherein I find not aught to be ravished at. On the contrary, I think it should be very unpleasant, since the customs of Country's are not observed, and that there was never any such government in Sicily as you find there. Those who pretend to criticisms, tell us there is a key to the Argenis, but I fear me the lock is so much out of order that it cannot open that Cabinet, where we are promised to see such rarities. They will have Meliander to be Henry the third, Poliarchus Henry the fourth, and Argenis to be France; but though the Author should have meant it so, what ground is there to make an Analogy between our History and those divers Romantic adventures? You find indeed that the discourses of State relate to our way of Government, and when he speaks of the Hyperefanians, all the world knows he means the Huguenots, that Vsinulca is Calvin, and Aquilius the Emperor: but we go no further, and when we have known all these explications we have learned but very trivial and ordinary things.  
Why should we love truth better under a vail then when she is naked? Some may haply come and tell me I should not speak of this book as an ordinary Romance, as being full of maxims of State which prefer it before all other; do but read any book that treats of nothing but Politic knowledge and you will find a hundred times as much in it. That this book raised itself into such an esteem at the beginning was, because in other Romances those things were not commonly so frequent, and the Authors made it their business to describe the passions. Besides, any other discourse whatever were as much to the purpose as those you find in the Argenis, and I wish the Author had set himself rather to speak only things necessary.  
When Archombrotus found Poliarchus at his Mothers, these two Lovers became furious at the first interview; they shook again for indignation, and viewed one another from head to foot, as two men that were upon the point to fight. All this is good; but I would fain know whether they spoke or no, and what they said in the presence of Hyamisbe, who must needs oblige them to some discourse. Two words would have satisfied me; but this was the hardest nut of all to crack. These Authors when they fall into such lurches, pass over them slightly, and I have observed in very famous Books, that when a discourse was to be made on some ticklish occasion, you only find that such a one said some fine words to his Mistress, and we are satisfied; but when it comes to an easy conjuncture, you have discourses in their full length. As for any esteem may be made of the Latin of the Argenis I am clearly of the contrary opinion, for there are a many new words which were never currant at Rome, so that if Sallust returned into the world, he would hardly understand it. A man may lawfully add some words to a language that is in vogue, because use may in time naturalise them; but we must leave a dead language such as we find it in the Monuments of Antiquity, and it is sacrilege to meddle with it.  
Now I am to let you know what a thing the History of Lysander is. I protest to you that book hath no invention in the world. The Author having heard that the best Romances should be full of miraculous Adventures, hath no other secret to win us into admiration, then to make a many unexpected rencontres, wherewith he hath filled his book, which is a thing very low and extreme tedious.  
Lysander coming from Calista's relieves her father against Robbers in the Forest of Fontainbleu; the next day he is second to Claranges against Lidian his Mistress' brother. Cleander leaves his wife to go to Holland with these brave adventures: There Lysander relieves the husband and brother of his Calista. They return like strange Knights to challenge some French at a Tournament, which done, they take off their Helmets, and discover themselves. Lysander being in Burgundy, sick, is comforted by a Capuchin, whom he finds to be Claranges, and being gone like a Pilgrim to Montserrat, he finds Cleander and his servants clad like slaves, having been taken by a Pirate upon the Coast of Genua as they returned from Italy. The Sermon being begun, they find the Preacher to be Lydian, whom an amorous despair had forced into devotion, as well as his rival Claranges. They bring him back to Paris, and discover themselves in these habits one after another.  
After the death of Cleander, and many other adventures, Lysander goes over to a Tournament in England, where he fought against Lydian, and at length knew him, and Alcidon and Berontus who were there upon the same occasion. In the mean time Lucidan having demanded leave of the King to fight with Lysander who had killed his Uncle; his father Adrastus appears for his son, so does Dorylas Calistas' father, and Calista herself disguised. The Amazon Hippolita makes a fourth; but the combat is stayed by the coming in of Lydian, Alcedon, and Berontus who had been separted from Lysander by a Tempest. Not to tell you the whole book by heart, you see by these examples, it contains nothing but meetings and discourses. Some are separated, others return, and then they all meet at an hour, so that the Author deals by these persons as a Puppet-player by his Puppets, makes them enter and exit off the Stage as he pleases. And this is all the subtlety in it.  
There are other passages far enough from probability of being so as they are related. Who will believe that Lysander having hurt Cloridan with a Lance, a kinsman and four of his friends should come to Cleander's to assassinate him? How were they admitted into the house all armed, and what rage could animate them to such a mischief, since Cloridan denied he knew any thing of it? Yet a while after, the Author wanting an invention to find his Lysander fight work, brings him a challenge from that Cloridan: As for the Operator that dressed the clothes in stead of the body, 'tis a Magic I permit in a Romance. But as to the spirit that appears to Cleander and prays him to bury his body which was in the bottom of a well, methinks it is a tale made in imitation of that of Athendorus, but not so good, for certain Pagans were of belief, that those who were not buried, were not admitted into the Elysian fields; but as for Christians, that they are so careful to be put into holy ground, 'tis only out of devout custom, and those that miss of it are not accounted the less happy for that, so that it is not credible a soul can be troubled with these considerations in the other World, and disturb its own rest, to come and desire one to bury the body wherein it had once dwelled: But this spirit is besides very complemental; it asks Cleander whether he will command him any service into that Country whither he goes. As for his promise to give him notice of his death three days before it should happen, 'tis a question whether God permits any such premonitions. For my part I believe they are only Saints have that favour done them. Yet this spirit comes one morning to give Cleander notice of his death; but the manner of it is very pleasant. 'Tis thought that spirits can in a moment translate themselves whither they please, and can find us as easily in the bottom of a Cellar, as on the top of a Tower: They need no stairs to go up not down by, nor yet door nor window to come in at: But this knocks at Cleander's Castle gate till the Gentleman himself came and opened; but it was out of modesty, because he would no take him unawares.  
'Tis as hard a thing to believe that a young French Gentleman, such as Lydian, should in a little while preach so famously in Spanish, The Author forgetting at length that he had undertaken an History, insensibly falls into Fables, like those of Amadis. He makes Calista bear Arms, he makes Hippolita fight with Lysander, as if the delicacy of a Woman could undergo that hardship. Lysander goes from Roven to Paris all armed, as if 'twere the mode of France to go so in times of peace, or as if we still lived in the age of Knight-Errantry.  
Henry the Great, desirous to do justice by way of Arms, permits the accuser of Calista to fight with any that should defend her. She in the mean time is placed on a Scaffold hanged with black, according to the ancient custom. There are other strange accidents, as when Hippolita and her maid Erifila keep the Arms at the Tournament. He should not have put in adventures so easily discoverable for lies; for they are so extraordinary, that if there had been any such thing, many yet alive would have seen them, and somewhat might have been found to that purpose in the History of that King. To conclude, at the marriage of Calista, a Nymph fills the Hall with darkness, and afterward made an obelisk arise, whence there issued so much water, that most were in fear to be drowned; at length the water having ceased, they read the Prophecies which were written thereon. The Author tells us not whether this was done by art, or by Enchantment, for he knew not himself, and his design was to pursue his stile of Knight-Errantry.  
And thus have you an account of Lysander's History, and if you think be deserves any esteem for his language, I tell you there are in it a world of Gascon phrases, and the periods are sometimes so long and so confounded, that a man hath much ado to find any sense in them.  
Nor do I believe that the Adventures of Polyxena are able to make good the cause of all other Romances of this age: 'Tis a book ill begun, and worse pursued. The Author says almost nothing of himself, Polixena or Cloriman spoke all. Besides, all the successes are so common, that they deserve not the relation. There are many other books among us, which I mention not, for they having the same defects as I have blamed in the others, are already answered. Those that have read them, know there's nothing but repetitions without any orders. There is besides generally in all, an insupportable want of judgement. The Author says that such a one hath told his story, he says that another hath related his to him▪ as it follows there; and this letter relates the relation of another, so thate the reader is lost, and knows not who speaks: It may be said, the Author and three or four more altogether. 'Twere handsome to see a man that should speak to us three hours together, in the same manner as another had spoken to him. Should not the audience be sometimes deceived, thinking it were he himself that spoke? There is yet another huge foolery, which must come into all adventures; and that is, if some secret be to be discovered, somebody shall speak too loud, that some of his enemies that are hidden somewhere 〈◊〉 him, shall overhear it. These Authors consider not, that there are few such ●ools, as being all alone, will complain aloud, and make open relations of their misfortunes.  
By all these impertinences which I have observed in Romances and Poetry, you perceive, most just Judge, that it is not without reason that I contemn them; And I must tell you withal, that though there were one work of this nature, which were free from all these imperfections I have quoted, I should not esteem it so much as the most inconsiderable relation that were true You learn out of History, things that you may allege for authorities; but of a Romance there's no fruit at all On the contrary, they are the loss of many minds, whereof I shall give sufficient testimony before I leave this place▪ Some young people having read them, and seeing all happens according to the wishes of the Adventurers whom they treat of; desire to lead such a life, and by that means quit those professions which they were fit for: All men generally have much reason to inform against such Books, since there is not a Cockney in Paris, nor waiting gentlewoman elsewhere, but will have them, and having read three or four pages, thinks not herself able to read lectures to us. This is the reading that instructs them to be talking gossips, and robs us of the means of innocent courtships. If you consider all these things, you will order that none in this Assembly make henceforth any esteem of such pernicious books, which may be a means by degrees to deliver the rest of the people of France out of their errors.  
Clarimond having here ended his plea, there were few but were of his opinion, such strong reasons had he produced; but A●selm turning towards Musardan, asked him what he had to say against him. 'Twas expected he would have made an excellent Oration full of Rhetorical flowers; but he began to speak thus. Sirs, This Gentleman, I must confess, hath spoken the truth in most places. I esteem no more than he does, most of the books he hath named; but if I have the honour to see you at Paris within some time, I will show you a Book I am now about, which shall exceed all this.  
This fellows impertinence was insupportable; Clarimond was suffered to speak against Romances, because of his strength of wit and the reasons he brought; but for that wand'ring Jew, that blamed what he was not able to maintain, he deserved to be tossed in a blanket. Besides, it was thought base in him to speak against what he had promised to maintain; but he could not have kept his word had he endeavoured it, because he had not read all the books that Clarimond had quoted, nor had he the wit to defend them: they therefore made a great hooting at this ignorant writer; and Lysis having caused the noise to cease, fell a checking of him for having forsaken his cause: he told him he should not write his History, as he had once resolved he should: He seeing that they openly affronted him, made no answer, but shook his noddle, and stunk behind the rest. Clarimond omitted not to importune the Judge, saying, pronounce the sentence on my side, I beseech you; Musardan agrees with me, and here's none opposes what I have said. Philiris, who professed Letters as well as Clarimond, was resolved to contradict him out of emulation. He knew Musardan could say nothing to the purpose, and his intention was to take his part. Taking therefore opportunity to speak, he rose up and desired Anselm to grant him audience that he might answer the calumnies of Clarimond. The Judge granted his request, and all being attentive to this new diversion, he spoke to this purpose:  

The Oration of PHILIRIS in vindication of Fables and Romances.  
I Know not what consideratons, most learned and most just Judge, I know not what strange humour hath engaged Clarimond into such an Oration as he hath now made, nor can I tell whether he pretend to gain reputation by opposing the common opinion; but whether he have spoken in good earnest, or hath only shown how far he could go against his own judgement, there is a necessity he should be answered, lest what he hath spoken may be taken for truth by those that have heard it. And since you have been chosen to judge who should bring better reasons concerning the matter in hand, I thought myself obliged to speak, that the noblest and best cause in the world might not suffer any prejudice for want of defence. Clarimond hath endeavoured to make appear, that in all Poetry, and in all Romances there's nothing to be found but may be censured; but O ye Gods! does he not fear, that so many excellent men as he hath injured, may not be forced to quit the happiness of the Elysian fields, to come hither and seem cruel to punish his calumnies, or at least to encourage me in their protection? The latter I am more than confident of; and I doubt not but I shall say whatever makes for my purpose, since I shall not want the suggestions of those excellent Genius's. Ah! Divine Homer, who would ever have thought it would have been necessary to seek reasons for thy defence in so great an Assembly as this? Yet it must be done: and since thy Iliad is abused, as containing only the fights which passed in the solitude of Achilles, with the death of Patroclus and Hector, it satisfies to answer that it was not thy design to do any more, and as thou sayest in the beginning, thou intendedst only to write of the anger of the son of Peleus: The rest of the History was sufficiently well known among the Greeks, so that thy pains were well spared; and as for the name Iliad, which is also condemned, it is proper enough, since the fights it treats of happened during the siege of Ilium. As for the Gods whom the Poet makes so valiant in this war, as if the Greeks and Trojans were the only men in the world, there's nothing to be wondered at, for at that time they were more considerable than all the world besides: and it was necessary to engage the force of Europe against that of Asia. Besides, though the Iliad mentions only the care of the Gods over those people, it infers not they had forgotten the rest, nor yet that Homer had forgot them; but they could not be spoken of without digressing from the matter in hand. And that those whom these different divinities affect most, are not always delivered from misfortunes, is not to be wondered at, since they are so divided that one power opposes another. As for their troublesome quarrels, they are things pardonable in Fables. I come to the comparisons which Clarimond finds so much fault with, because they are taken from hunting. To what can fight be better compared then to that exercise which is as it were a noviceship to the War. That Homer makes his Warriors sometimes like furious beasts; is it not the greater miracle, in so much as it so divercifies the accidents by comparisons, that they seem to be quite different, though they are drawn from the same beast. As for example, he often draws his comparison from a Lion, and if a great Heros be to fight with some miserable soldier, he says 'tis as if a Lion should fall upon a sheep; if there comes some brave Captain to relieve that Soldier, he compares him to a good Shepherd that will defend his flock; and if one Heros fight with another, 'tis as if one Lion fought with another. And thus he goes on, and for my part I find it an incomparable grace. For when he speaks of the same men, he ever uses the same comparisons, which is much more rational then to make them sometimes Suns, sometimes Trees, and sometimes Rivers. The several natures of so many things cannot be found together. As for the other comparisons, they are not so obscene and low as is imagined. Clarimond finds fault also with the Language, and says Homer spoke not good Greek, because so many Countries disputed about him whose child he should be: but he is to know that it is also said he is not any Countryman on earth, but that he came down from heaven. If he use divers dialects, and some words which are strange to other common authors, 'tis because Poetry being the language of the Gods, hath a peculiar stile which is not familiar to men. I will go no further for a testimony of the excellence of his discourse, than the common opinion, that he is full of precepts which generally serve all mankind. His sentences are not so low; as you have been told, but they cannot be otherwise conceived; and if you find not in them that majesty that is expected, we are to blame Clarimond, who by his translation of them into French, hath robbed them of those beauties which they have in their own language. The most learned Philosophers have sought them out to ground their tenants on, and the Painters and Armourers, and the subtlest mechanics, have acknowledged so much from this Poet, that they confess they have learned their professions of him. He is accordingly called the Master of all Arts, and he is painted vomiting, and all the other Poets licking what he had cast up. As for Military persons, they are the most beholding to him for his instructions, and out of his Works may be learned with what courage a man should assault his enemies. how soldiers should obey, and the General's command, and with what masculine eloquence a Captain should encourage his troops. As for the discourses of the Heroes in the midst of a fight, they are not so irrational: They might have been come out of the charge, as being weary of fight, and in the time of that repose, they might discover themselves one to another. As for the combat of Ajax and Hector, that they made use of stones, is not so strange, since fury thinks no weapons amiss. That esteem which Alexander and others had of Homer, is no fiction; all Historians agree in it, and there was never any imagined that that great Poet did ever do any thing indecent: In his time, and in that of Achilles', Luxury and Pride did not reign as they do now, so that the Heroes might well condescend to dress what they ate themselves; and to mention that delicacies should be presented to them at Feasts, shows the honour was done them even to those small circumstances, which haply custom had in those times made the greatest. If Ulysses built a Vessel, necessity forced him to a thing which was not dishonourable to a Warrior, and it was only a great Boat which needed not a Carpenter so much to help him, besides that the solitude of his Nymph would have been troubled with the sight of so many other men. And as for the bed he tells Penelope of, he might have done somewhat by way of recreation, as the pastimes of Princes are divers. In fine, the places and the times might have rendered those things commendable, which now seem ridiculous. As for the lowness of spirits which my adversary objects to Ulysses, I maintain it to be false. That this great Heros wept at the relation of the Trojan War, 'twas not for the hardships he had endured there himself, but those of his friends, and perhaps he wept out of affection, which is a thing permitted the most generous; it may be he regretted the absence of his wife; Alcinous knew his condition by his majestic countenance, though he had been found naked, and the proffer he made him of his daughter, is a certain argument of the respect he bore him. If this Ulysses be ill handled by the Lovers of Penelope, the fault is to be imputed to them, or at the worst to his disguise, which was so far necessary, that he could not get into his own house but by some artifice, his ancient acquaintances being much lost. It was the will of Pallas he should go through those afflictions, who would not presently succour him as she might have done, to show that the Divinity will not help us unless we also help ourselves; and permits the good to suffer, to recompense them afterwards with happiness far transcending their former misery. I will not grant Clarimond that Homer was a beggar, and got his living by singing at doors; I know divers have been of that opinion, because he was blind, and that such musicians commonly are so; but 'tis not likely a beggar could conceive such rare things. Where should we have learned the art of War, and the counsels of Captains? Are these things revealed to low-spirited persons? If it be true that such a Musician could sing the Iliad and the Odyssey through all Greece, I should rather believe he had composed those incomparable Works, then that he did only own them, having found them in the Author's notes, who was some great person of the age. Clarimond desirous to discredit the Odyssey, would have us believe there's nothing in't but Country-Tales; but the worthy things of it he omits: Is not that courtesy of Polyphemus to Ulysses an excellent passage, where he tells him that he will eat him the last because he gave him good wine? could the humour of a savage be better represented? As for the name of Nobody which Ulysseses took on him, the subtlety was so fortunate that the other Cyclops sought not after him to punish him for the mischief he had done to their companion, because they believed Nobody had struck out his eye, but that he had done it himself. When an action is inconsiderable in itself, yet if great effects follow it, 'tis thought great. The Metamorphosis of Ulysses' companions follows, and Clarimond scoffs at this Heros, in that he resisted the charms which had caused the others to be transformed, and suffered himself to be so carried away by the caresses of the Sorceress, that he openly lay with her; but I shall here find a Mythology shall take away the contradiction, and show that Homer hath not made Ulysses' continent and luxurious together. Circe the daughter of the Sun, signifies the Celestial influence which incited the Grecians to follow pleasures; they suffered themselves to be easily overcome; but Ulysses opposing all such inclinations, was not charmed by the same drink, that is to say, followed not the same vices Circe entertains him into her bed, as being extremely in love with him. This shows that a wise man, such as he was, rather commands than obeys the Celestial influence, and that when he is confident that it advises him to nothing but what is virtuous, he shuns it not, but joins himself to it by a happy marriage, that all things it signifies may come to pass to his own glory. And thus we may satisfy those that imagine there are any absurdities in fables. As for the rencontre of the Sirens, it is also taken for example in many noble occasions, and there are such excellent Mythologies in it, that it's a thing defends itself As for Vlysses' journey to hell, 'twas not so needless, since Circe would have him go thither, to see what wonders were there, that he might be encouraged to live well by the reward of the good, and the punishment of the bad. Thus is there nothing superfluous in Homer's Works▪ and if in the Iliad Achilles' horse prophecies, 'tis to show us that the Divinity will sometimes make use of irrational creatures to tell us of our duty. I have no more to say upon this occasion, but that though Penclope had been as old as Clarimond would make her, yet it was not impossible but that many young men might court her, were it only for her means. And as for Helen, though her beauty might lose much of its glory, yet Menelaus might have tried all means to have her again, as if she had been as fair as ever, and he as deeply in love with her, in regard he and all the Greeks were resolved and sworn to the enterprise; and if they had left Troy without doing any thing, it would have been a great discredit to them. Clarimond having sufficiently censured Homer, falls upon Virgil; and I am not to wonder he should fight against Poetry in the gross, since he attacques this Poet. He blames him for making Aeneas go to Carthage, and 'twas for that he obtained the greatest reputation among the Romans. They thought it a wonderful piece of conduct, to have gone so high for the motive of the War between Rome and Carthage, when the dispute was for nothing but the Empire of the World. The City of Carthage, and Juno the Patroness of it, bore an immortal hatred in his opinion against the race of Aeneas, who had forsaken Dido, and thence arose the Wars between the Punic Nation and the Latin. 'Tis true, these are but Poetical fictions, yet they give the mind great satisfaction. As for the places where Vi●gil hath imitated Homer, I think it is his chiefest glory; it being his business to describe what passed after the Wars of Troy, in the person of one of the most illustrious Heroes that were there, 'twas fit he should conform himself to his stile who had first writ on that subject. Clarimond here takes occasion to speak of Achilles' Buckler in relation to that of Aeneas, for that agitation of mind, whereinto the desire to calumniate had put him, hath been the reason that being at a loss in his order, he hath confounded many things. He blames Homer for describing what was engraven in this Buckler, because it should seem to make the History the more true: but will he not acknowledge that if the Poet being to speak of the pleading of two Advocates, and the fight of two contrary Factions, if he make the Reader as 'twere here their noise, and see them march to do their necessary actions, he does as good as say that the work was so perfect, that by the only countenances of the persons that are seen therein, it might be conceived they should say such and such things, and by what they did then, might be judged what they had done, and what they should do. Thus it appears Homer hath rather done a miracle in this case, then committed any fault of judgement; and for Virgil in the Buckler of Aeneas, he deserves not to be censured for having graven in it the most remarkable things should happen to Rome. It may be they were severed by divisions, as Clarimond would have it; but suppose they were not, and that there had been but one City of Rome in the Buckler, and that in one place there was represented the Bridge broken under Horatius Cocles, and in another the Capitol besieged, and at some distance another thing, though they were adventures should happen at several times, the invention was by so much the more noble; for this bearing the nature of a Prophecy, things must have been confused, to be conformable to the custom of the Divinities, whose Oracles have ever somewhat of obscurity. From hence Clarimond falls into frivolous reprehensions, and is angry that Virgil should say that Vulcan forged a Thunder bolt for Jupiter, consisting of three darts of rain, and three of fire; he believes not that Smiths can work in moist things; but does he not perceive that this is spoken mysteriously, and that Vulcan signifies that subtle air that is changed into fire in the upper region, and violently breaking through what obstacles do environ it, makes that noise which we call thunder, causing at the same time the rain to fall out of those moist clouds which it hath burst asunder. Thus do the Physicians hide their secrets under these fables, and that Vulcan is Jack of-all-trades among the Gods, 'tis to show that the operations both of Art and Nature are not effected without fire, either corporal or spiritual, which is the vehemence of the action, or the diligence of the workmen. Clarimond troubles himself also with trivial particularities, as to know the true age of Ascanius, and whether it was a golden bough that Aeneas found. He quarrels too much with words, and I think therefore deserves no answer▪ He considers not the excellent phrase of Virgil, nor the sweet fluency of his Verses, which is so apparent, that one that understands no Latin may perceive it. He next sets upon Ovid, and blames him so much against reason, that he will never meet with any of his opinion. He thinks it not well that he should speak of so many different Divinities; as if he could possibly speak of any thing else in a time wherein he was bred up in idolatry. As for his Metamorphoses, they are not so extravagant as he would make them at least to make them appear so he should have quoted them; but for his part, he mentions only the opinion of Pythagoras of Metempsychosy. If that Philosopher had never been Euphorbas, 'twas his fault that first set the story on foot, not theirs that writ it since; yet if a man would maintain he had said truth, he might easily do it, though it be held that Mercury made the souls drink the water of oblivion when they assumed new bodies; For it may be imagined that Pythagoras alone had the privilege not to drink of it, that he might tell others that he had been divers times in the world, and that it was so with them all, as who passed sometimes into the bodies of beasts, that so they might abstain from all creatures that had any soul in them. Clarimond endeavouring to bring Ovid quite into discredit, hath not stuck to say that there is no order at all in his narrations. He should have considered that Ovid is a Poet, and not an Historian, and that if he observed that order which Historians must not transgress, his Metamorphoses had not been near so pleasant. Poetry is an art full of fury, whose ornament is variety, and this is the reason that Ariosto for our greater diversion, hath so interlaced his narrations. Nor is Tasso to be blamed for quoting the ancient Divinities in his descriptions; he were no Poet that should not use Poetical figures. And so I pass by all those Poets which may be vindicated in that one word; and now I come to Ronsard, whom Clarimond hath also presumed to quarrel with, and reproach with a many things he hath said concerning the ancient Divinities, and his design to imitate Homer and Virgil. I cannot put myself to the trouble to answer his impertinent reasons, for they were so feeble that I did not regard them nor suffer them to make any impression on my mind. I only remember that he blamed Presages, and some other superstitions, without which a man cannot speak naturally of any matter of Antiquity. He also rejects the descriptions which have made Ronsard highly famous and esteemed; for the discourses of a Poet should not be so severe as those of a Stoic Philosopher; and sometimes for the diversion of the readers, 'tis haply necessary he should digress to the description of the noise of a Cartwheel when it is overburthened, or the cries of birds of prey when they fight. As for the sweetness of Ronsards' verse, it could have been no greater considering his time. All the world confess that the honour of having opened the door to the advancement of the French Tongue is due to him. Another thing my adversary quarrels at in his Franciad is, that all our History is thrust into it; but is there any thing so clear as that Ronsard began to write in a Poetical stile, so that there would have been no inequality in the piece though he had finished it? And if Clarimond think it ill that Hyanta should relate things in such order as if she had read an effective story out of some book, and if he think her expressions too clear for a Prophetess in a fury, I will not condemn him, because I said erewhile that Prophecies ought to be obscure; for I maintain hers were such, and my reasons shall be but what Clarimond hath said himself. He says that sometimes she spoke of the mysteries of Christian Religion, which though we who understand them, think a thing clear, yet Francus could not possibly hear any thing more obscure. To Clarimonds' question, Why he desired not to know what it was, and how Hyanta should speak of such things being a Pagan, I answer, That Francus passed it by as a thing unknown that touched him not; and as for Hyanta, she was so possessed by the spirit that made her speak that she knew not what she had said herself. I doubt not but Ronsard would have given us this satisfaction, had he continued his work. As for the design he had to bring Francus into the Country of the Gauls there to build a City, he is very unjustly blamed, since that being a Poet, he was permitted to feign what he pleased, besides that his fiction was not at such a distance from the truth, but it had the warrant of most of our Historians. When Clarimond had censured Ronsard, to whom so many Poets of his time gave place, he could not but contemn all the rest, yet hath he not presumed to sift their works, lest it would have been too much pains, for it must be conceived it could be no small disquisition to search out reasons so destructive to the common opinion: He therefore generally condemns them all, because they have quoted the ancient Fables. It must not be believed in his opinion▪ that there can be any good Mythologies, whereas we have such abundance of most excellent ones, that I know not how he hath been so impudent as to say so. I pass by all his proofs as being of no weight. I know my Judge hath read books enough to have learned the contrary to what he hath alleged. But it is to much purpose for me to be angry with a man who cannot be reconciled to the Poetry of the present age. Is it possible that so many excellent wits as are at the Court could never do any thing to satisfy him? Their sweet songs, are they not able to charm him and make him change his opinion? But here he comes to the second part of his Oration, and falls foul upon the books he calls Romances. He hath dealt most unworthily by the Aethiopian History, and not finding any thing in that piece deserving just censure, he quarrels with little formalities. He thinks it not fit that Pagans should regard their dreams who are so full of superstition. That natural impatience that Gnemon is in to know the end of a History, he would make a strange incongruity, and not considering that the world is furnished with cowards as well as stout men, he falls out with the Author for making that young man fearful. Though Theagenes hath discovered his generosity in all actions whatsoever, yet he excuses him not, and thinks he hath not done enough. He would also persuade us that the Loves of Daphnis and Cloe are impertinent, though they excel in an incomparable naturalness. And there he begins his controversy with Pastorals, against which, all he can say is, that the books which treat of that subject, imitate one another. This makes nothing against them, if so be they are good; and what he hath alleged against Diana of Montemajor is of no great weight. Though the order of it should be disturbed, yet were the thing no less pleasant, and as for the Fables and Enchantments in it, all's pardonable. As for the Pastorals of Julietta, I think myself the more obliged to vindicate that book, as being the first was written in France of that kind. The happy condition of a Shepherd to which heaven hath called me, engages me to do it. To answer therefore what Clarimond hath said of the Works of Ollenix of Montsacre, I say that if that Author mentions not the abode of his Shepherds, and other little particulars; 'tis because they are of no concernment. That he makes the maids court the men, 'tis only to represent that they lived as 'twere in the golden age, during which the laws of honour were not invented. And if in relating Histories, they quote profane and sacred Authors, and mention things happened in our times, the reason is, that all being fiction, and it being granted it is the Author that speaks all through, he hath taken the liberty to accommodate things as well to this age as to the ages past, for the greater delight of the readers. He is not therefore to be censured for that; and as for Sidney's Arcadia, since it hath crossed the Sea to come and see us, I am sorry Clarimond receives it with such poor compliments. If he hears nothing of the Loves of Strephon and Clavis, he must not quarrel with the Author who hath made his Book one of the most excellent in the world. There are discourses of Love and discourses of State so generous and pleasant, that I should never be weary to read them. I should say much in his commendation, were I not in haste to speak of Astraea, which Clarimond brings in next, and I am very glad to find that Book generally esteemed, which should oblige him to esteem it also. If instead of the Title of Astraea, it had born that of Galathea or Diana, he would have made the same complaint he does: he would have asked why that Title more than another: But does he not consider that the book begins with the Loves of Astraea and Celadon, and that most of the other Histories are but circumstances, so that the design is very excellently taken. I must also tell Clarimond, that Hylas may be inconstant, and yet not be mad, as he supposes, and that there are in these days a many more inconstant than he. As for Sylvander, if his Philosophy be Platonic, it is so much the better, since it is that Philosopher hath taught us to love Divinely. If it be alleged that in the time of Meroveus and Childerick, there were no Shepherds in Forest could be acquainted with so much learning and civility as these, 'tis very indiscreetly spoken. Who knows not but that in books, things are raised to the greatest perfection, and that incomparable mind that composed the Astraea, hath he not made it appear that he doth not relate the Histories of obscure persons, but describes a sort of persons of quality whose names and condition he disguises? And if the order of his narration had been nicely observed, he would not have been found to fail in the Chronology, that's only a vain illusion to frighten us withal. And that Clarimond should be angry that he hath not perfected his Book; what injustice is it! what imprudence! will he not anon quarrel with heaven? We were not worthy to have amongst us any longer that wonderful man whom death hath taken away from us: but I hope some able pen will oblige us by the accomplishment of what he hath designed according to his excellent notes and directions. Yet supposing this were not to be hoped, I dare affirm, that though there wants a conclusion to this Work, yet it may be taken as perfect. He that is ignorant of it, let him read it, he will be suddenly ravished into admiration, he will find what will make him slight all the objections of our adversary, he will be touched in the most sensible part of his soul, and if he weeps not sometimes for joy, and sometimes for grief, according to the occasion, I will confess the envious and detractive have gained the cause. I shall say as much for the History of Argenis, which can be displeasant to none but men without reason. Clarimond unjustly blames the Author for having said in what condition the affairs of the world were when a Vessel arrived in Sicily; for that does not relate only to the Vessel, and that the question is not about that alone, but all the other things that are in the body of the book which concern the affairs of Sicily, the Gauls, Sardinia, Mauritania, and divers other Countries, so that here's no inequality; nor any mixture of great things and little together. As for the Verses which are disposed here and there, since they are most excellent, most unjust Clarimond, will you find fault with him that gave them us, for to divert our minds after they have been long employed in something more serious? You do well to tell us that the true customs of Sicily are not observed in this History, every one confesses it as well as yourself, since it was only the Author's design, to represent divers accidents happened in France. If you esteem not his intention because he treats of these things with some obscurity, should you not consider that he was obliged to carry himself with that caution, it being a thing not a little dangerous to speak openly of the affairs of great ones? As for the discourses of State which are so seasonably introduced, 'tis a black malice to blame a thing so noble. As for the interview of Poliarchus and Archombrotus, 'tis credible they spoke not but by those furious actions which Barclay describes, and that Hyanisbe presently separated them. Clarimond keeps also a stir with the language of this book; he thinks there are some new words; but if he observe it narrowly, there are none which are not derived of other Latin words which are roots that may still send forth somewhat. He is no less injust when he speaks against Lysander, He hath made long narrations of the divers successes of the whole History, to prove they are but rencontres; but what would he have had more miraculous in a History of our time? We have no more to do with those ancient ceremonies, and triumphs with all their sumptuous preparations. We cannot describe Wars or strange Combats, but we must be suspected of falsehood. We are now reduced to speak only of ordinary things. Clarimond mislikes also that Lysander should be assassinated by the friends of Cloridan, who had no hand in the business, as he afterwards declared to the King. Is it impossible they should bear him so much affection as to have engaged in such a design for his sake; and may it not be presumed on the other side that he had intelligence of it, but that he denied it to preserve the favour of his Prince? The Challenge he afterwards sent to Lysander, sufficiently discovers his indignation; and this justifies d' Audiguier, whom, Clarimond taxes not to know whom to make this Gentleman fight with, since Cloridan had a fair occasion to challenge him, having been wounded by him in sight of all the Court. As for the Tale of the spirit, I will not maintain it to be true; it's a query for a Divine, to know whether the souls departed can return hither; it suffices I should tell you that d' Audiguier making a Romance according to our mode could not adorn it better, then by putting in it such things as these, instead of the apparitions of the heathenish Gods, as you have them in ancient Romances; nor indeed is it always necessary to bring in true things into Histories of this kind, but such as the many take to be true: Now there is nothing more certain than that there are many believe that spirits may be spoken to, and have been seen sometimes. Clarimond does also think it unlikely Lidian should preach, as if he knew the accomplishments of that Gentleman. He would not have Calista bear arms, as being too soft, and knowing nothing of the art of War; but doth not d' Audiguier make this thing easily credible, since he says she would not fight but purposely to die? As for Hippolita and Erifila, they had a long time exercised themselves in feats of arms; nor was it such a miracle to see people armed about Paris, since the Author feigns that Tournaments were very frequent. What he hath in consequence to this, relates much to the warlike humour of Henry the Great; and though there was no such thing, yet it was enough to show it might be. The admirable adventure of the Nymph is no more to be censured then the rest; for you find in modern Histories, that Magicians of these times have done the like. As for the faults of the language, if a point be forgotten, the Author pays not the Printers score; and if there be in Lysander any Gascon phrases, there needs good eyes to find them. To be short, Clarimond is like that malicious Painter, who represented the feet of the Peacock, and not his train. He mentions only what he likes not, but those things he could not disapprove, he meddles not with. Why does he not consider those duels which are so well described? Why does he not take notice of those ingenious answers of Claranges to him that represented to him the grandeurs of the world, to make him quit his Capuchin's Cell? Hath he not observed how Lysander upon a disdainful humour of Calista, fell off from his marriage when all their friends had consented to it. In these and other places there are discourses so charming, that though the Reader desired to see the end of the Book, yet would he wish withal it should not end at all. For the Adventures of Polyxena, though there be nothing but relations, yet are they pleasant. Since the principal end of Romances is to delight, 'tis requisite there should be of all sorts. And as to Romances in general, Clarimond hath said nothing but what he had said divers times before. He imagines that all Authors steal one from another, nay he hath been so unjust as to say that there are few adventures in the Argenis which are not as common in other Romances; but he does not consider aright. If there be a war in a book, or the ravishing of a maid, or the death of a King, and that in another there be the same accidents, does that make the books alike? it cannot be, for upon that account, the Roman History were no other thing then the Greek, because in both there are wars, ravish of maids, and deaths of Princes, the circumstances make difference enough between things. Wars are begun upon divers occasions; maids may be ravished divers ways, and Princes are not subject to one only kind of death, so that you still find variety in our books; and if you are not satisfied with them, you may in vain wish that God would create another world, or another nature; for as long as we shall be what we are, our Histories can never consist of any thing but suits of Law, Wars, Death and Marriage. If my adversary take it ill that in a Romance a man relate a History in the same words as another hath related it to him, he considers not that it is the principal grace of a book, and that if he can make nothing of it, 'tis for want of attention. It's easily seen he knows not what to say against us, and that he can do nothing but follow the imaginations of his own corrupt humours, since that in the conclusion of all, he could reproach us with nothing but the complaints which are loudly made against us, which is a thing no less natural than that there should be diversity of passions. I therefore conjure you, most just Judge, not to regard his seeble reasons, whereby he endeavours to make it appear to us, that the best Romances in the world are worth nothing. It is most certain, that being made only for pleasure, and not observing the rigorous laws of History, there may be brought whatever the Author pleases, so that they present us with all the examples of Virtue that can be imagined. 'Tis in these we find pleasure and profit together, and where even women may learn Civility and Courtship. These things being true, and that it is granted there was never any man hitherto but Clarimond that doubted of them, I beseech you to preserve Romances in that reputation which they have gotten in the world, and more especially to confirm unto those I have named, the honour and respect they deserve.   
Philiris having spoken in this manner, the minds of the audience, which had been carried away by Clarimond, turned on a sudden in his favour that had harangued last. 'Tis true, when they remembered all the reasons that Clarimond had alleged, they returned again to his side, so that they were still in uncertainty, and wished that Anselm would give sentence one way or other. But as they were in expectation of it, Amaryllis rose up, and desired to be admitted mediatrix in the cause depending. She was permitted to say what she pleased, and that fair Lady spoke thus.  

The Oration of AMARYLLIS, mediating for Romances.  
THough I am the most inconsiderable of all those of our sex that are here present, most wise and righteous Judge, yet will I not be afraid to speak in a business which so much concerns us, since no other will undertake it. I cannot suffer that Clarimond should condemn Romances so far, that if he were believed, they should be all cast into the fire. What would he have them forbidden all manner of persons without exception? If so, we women, who go not to study in College, and have not as men have, Tutors to teach us the many things that happen in the world, are utterly undone; 'tis only by the help of Romances that we can arrive to any knowledge. If they are taken from us we presently return to intractableness and incivility; for our minds not being fitted for the books of Philosophy, nor any other serious studies, there must be some other way for us to learn Virtue and Eloquence▪ Nay, what is more, we shall be extremely wronged, because our lovers and husbands, if they discontinue that delightful reading, will forget all the insinuations and addresses of Love, so that we shall be no more served with passion, and shall have no further adventures to find employment for the writers of the age. Consider this, most just Judge, and represent to yourself, that if you condemn Romances, you will not only injure all women, but also all men, who will not henceforth find them so amiable as before. Let this so powerful consideration oblige you to do us justice.   
Amaryllis having so said, made a low Courtesy to Anselm, and every one mightily applauded her ingenuity to have done what she did without any body's notice. Anselm gave a little nod with his head and smiled, as it were to assure her he was satisfied with her conclusion; and presently he pronounced these words.  

The Judgement of Anselm.  
HAving heard the reasons which Clarimond hath alleged against the most famous works of Poetry and Romances in the world, and having also given ear to what Philiris hath answered to maintain the reputation of those different books, as also the complaint of Amaryllis, who hath mediated in behalf of the Ladies, and desired the reading of Romances may not be prohibited; after serious and mature examination, We ordain, That since all these fabulous works are made only for delight, and that the design of the Writers is then most fortunate, when they most recreate the Readers, It shall be lawful for all to seek their satisfaction and delight in all books wherein they can find it: And since Clarimond hath condemned books which do not deserve it so far, and that Philiris hath given some greater commendations than they deserve, the ablest wits shall hereafter take the matter into consideration, and give their judgements without passion, of the several Works that shall come abroad into the world.   
Anselm having thus pronounced sentence, every one was very glad; ye● there were divers would have gladly known particularly, what credit they should give those books that had been named: but they were not in likelihood to learn any more at that time, for the affections and disaffections were such as admitted not of any resolution; and if one commended a book, another discommended it. Anselm represented to them, that though there were nothing in all this contrary to reason, and that Romances being only things dressed to please, as he had said in his sentence, it was not to be admired if some were esteemed, and others not, because the case was not the same as with things that are necessary, which ought to have the general approbation.  
The end of the Thirteenth Book.   

THE Anti-Romance; OR, THE HISTORY Of the SHEPHERD LYSIS.  
The Fourteenth Book.  
ALL those that were then present at Hircans, stayed a long time talking about those things that Clarimond and Philiris had said, and their admiration of Philiris was not little; he without any notice given him to answer to what was then controverted, having shown himself so ready and able, that his discourse seemed much more admirable than that of his Adversary, though it had not been so long. They were astonished at his memory, which had been so happy, that he had answered in order to all the reasons of Clarimond, with very little hesitation. Lysis was almost out of himself for joy; and though the Poer Musardan had not so much wit as to judge of wit in others, yet he thought best to follow the Propositions of him that had spoken for Romances. As for the rest, they were, as I told you, of different opinions; but he that was most for Clarimond, was Adrian, who taking his opportunity to speak; said to him, Sir, you have done wonders in your speech, methinks your adversary made not so good a plea as you, and therefore I am very sorry you have not received that satisfaction you desired: For my part, I have ever born a great hatred to these ridiculous Romances. There is some injustice done me, says Clarimond, but I hope I shall anon recover what I have now lost. Anselm would not at one blow dash the common opinion, though he was obliged to condemn it; and as for him who hath spoken against me, I am sure he did it only to exercise his wit, and that his heart hath ever thought contrary to what his tongue hath spoken. 'Tis the same case as that of your Counsellors, who to get money or reputation, entertain and maintain all the causes that come to them, be they ever so bad. I deny not but Philiris hath alleged very strong reasons against mine; but to what purpose are they, since they only show the subtlety of his wit, and not the innocency of those he hath vindicated? They themselves had never considered of maintaining their works by any such considerations as his: for if they had had any such, they would not have done their reputation that injury as to have concealed them.  
Lysis having overheard this discourse, turns to Clarimond; Dost thou think thou speakest truth in this? says he to him; for my part I must confess, that though thou hast spoken against what I loved, yet had I a greater esteem of thy eloquence than I had ever; but when I heard Philiris, the case was altered. And I assure you notwithstanding all this, replies Clarimond, that you will find Philiris anon of another opinion then what he held. That will be a strange blow indeed, says Lysis, with a smile.  
Carmelin by chance observing Lisetta near him, who was come to whisper somewhat in her Mistress' ear, would needs hold her by the sleeve; which Lysis perceiving, said to Amaryllis, that their loves should not be drawn out any further, but a happy issue put to them. Lisetta presently got away; and Amaryllis answered for her, that she thought herself very happy to be married to Carmelin; but the question was, whether he had means enough to maintain her. He hath ever told me he was nothing in debt, replies Lysis; and therefore I think him rich. What's more, he's willing enough to work, and by that means he may in time come to have a good flock of sheep: As for his virtues, I pass my word for him; and if you will clap up an agreement, Love shall be the Notary, and shall draw up the contract, and keep the copies of it. Amaryllis told him it were better to delay it a little, that the two Lovers might try whether their conditions were such as would agree together.  
Clarimond upon this discourse, went aside to speak with Hircan, who was gone into a study at the end of the Hall, and all the counterfeit Shepherds with him. Dear friends, said he to them, we have taken our pleasure sufficiently of Lysis. His follies would henceforth be rather troublesome to us then delightful, if we should suffer him to continue in them; besides, it is some touch to conscience, to entertain a man still in those extravagances, which are repugnant to reason. You are a great Orator, replies Meliantes, you would teach us the precepts of charity, which we know as well as yourself. Why may we not yet a while enjoy the pleasant conversation of Lysis? If he were possessed with any hurtful folly, you had reason to be so ready to restore him. His imaginations never carried him to do mischief to any man. If he does not hurt, 'tis certain he does no good, says Clarimond; and wheaeas his mind is capable of great things, if it were well guided; he is now in such a decay of spirits, that if he go on a while longer, it may be desperate to restore him. If you do not consider this, represent to yourselves, that if you were resolved to make further sport with this poor Shepherd, you cannot continue it much longer, for Adrian or Anselm will carry him away to Paris. 'Tis there we would have him, replies Meliantes; 'twill be good sport to govern him in great companies. 'Twere a pity so famous a place should want this recreation. That will never be, says Clarimond; for assoon as he were there, they would chain him up, lest he should run up and down the streets and disgrace his friends. Suppose him now upon his departure, and learn in time to quit that satisfaction you must some time be deprived of. Consider that there will be no less pleasure to restore Lysis to his wits, than there would be to continue him in his madness as you desire.  
Hircan was of the same opinion, and Philiris too, so that they soon brought their companions to the same point. They then thought it a very good work to restore their Shepherd to himself again; and the hopes they had to do it were not small, when they represented to themselves, that Lysis had good natural faculties, which he could not but discover in his greatest extravagances. His discourses and his inventions amazed all the world; and if his errors had not hindered him from employing his subtlety in good things, he had never done any thing discommendable.  
While they were in this discourse, a serving man came and told Hircan that the Hermit was at the door for an alms. They called him by no other name, because there was no other Hermit thereabouts, and it was the same that Lysis had me● some time before. Hircan having given order he should come up, the Shepherd presently called him to mind, and went and saluted him with a great deal of compliment. I am very glad my Cousin is acquainted with you, says Adrian to the Hermit, I should heartily wish you would make him walk in the way of virtue. I doubt not but he is very well given thereto, replies the Hermit; he was almost persuaded to enter into that contemplative way of life that I follow; but I believe all the hurt that's in him, is that he is still in love. I am so, and shall be eternally (says Lysis in a loud Tone) Charite is she that I love; my Cousin hath seen her, all the Shepherds know her, the Birds, the Trees, the Rocks and the Fountains are not ignorant who she is; for when I complain of my misery, every thing, even to that which hath no soul, assumes one to hearken to me. Provided your love aims not but at a faithful marriage, says the Hermit, I shall never be among those that will blame you; for marriage was instituted by our Saviour, who after the creation of the world, bestowed Eve on Adam; and St. Paul, says, It is better to marry then to burn; but away with sinful concupiscence, if so be your soul be stained with it. The waters of the clearest springs are not more pure than my desires, replies Lysis; I know incontinence destroys both men's bodies, and their minds, and that it is like those fruits that grow about the Lake Asphalt●tes, which seem fair and ripe, but within are nothing but ashes. Ever from my infancy, I have known what belonged to the two ways which presented themselves to the great Alcides; and two women made their orations to me, as they did to him, but I followed her that led me into the rough way of virtue, though the other would have led me an easier way. I now go upon thorns, whereas others tread upon roses; but I am also sure to come to that eternal glory which so many Heroes have sought after. 'Tis for that we must swear, 'tis for that we must go naked, having nothing but a club to overcome monsters, the enemies of mankind: And 'tis for that in brief, that we must forsake the pleasures of this life, and live upon earth, as if we were already of the other world; that is to say, have no other entertainment for the most part then good meditations.  
The Hermit was extremely pleased at this discourse, for he interpreted all religiously, and imagined that Lysis spoke of the glory of Paradise, and that he would quell the Monsters which are our enemies; that is to say the Devils. He therefore turning to Adrian, said to him, Do you not see your own happiness in so learned a Kinsman as you have? I have heard very few Preachers speak better than he does. What reputation would he in time come to, should he enter into that calling! I should be very glad would he give himself thereto, replies Adrian; if you had heard other discourses of his, you would have been amazed. He will speak to you three hours together, without any trouble, and I know not whence he hath what he says: for the most part he is so deeply learned, that I cannot understand one half. It must be conceived he hath done nothing all his life time but read. And it hath so happened, he hath taken a man, who is almost as great a Scholar as himself. But I must tell you, that I think all their knowledge is unprofitable, or rather hurtful to them; for they employ it only in those things which I can by no means approve. Is this true? says the Hermit to Lysis; do you abuse the good gifts which God hath bestowed on you? My friend, will you not observe all the articles of our faith? I observe my faith to Charite, replies Lysis; I have promised her before the throne of Love, to be eternally hers▪ How! what impiety's this? cries out the good Father; when you are spoken to concerning God, you speak of his creatures, as if you would adore them instead of him. If you will not address yourself immediately to his infinite Majesty, because of the greatness of your sins, recommend yourself to some good Saint, that may deliver you from the pains of hell. She is a fair Saint that I serve, says Lysis; and 'tis certain she can deliver me from the pains of hell, since by her cruelty she could condemn me to them. Nay, she can do greater things than that: All that are in this house can assure you that this morning she raised me from death to life. Inform yourself of this miracle. My Cousin is a Heathen, cries out Adrian; alas! there's no question of it: He's worse than a Mah●metan: Ah! what cursed Books are these that have thus destroyed him!  
Hircan and the rest of the Gentlemen came in at this noise. Clarimond having understood the controversy, perceived the Hermit was not able enough to convert the Shepherd. As for his own part, he thought now was the time to try whether he might be more fortunate than another in the design he had to restore him to his senses, by the help of those artifices which he had resolved to make use of. There are a many things which I must communicate to you before this honourable assembly, says he to him. 'Tis now that I am to show you that I am really your friend, as I told you some days since: 'Tis Philiris and his companions that are your enemies, though you have ever thought the contrary; they have hitherto promoted your humours, and 'tis that hath put you into the way of destruction. Since your coming to years of discretion you have read a many fabulous books, which you have taken as true, for want of being acquainted with some one that could discreetly have convinced you of your erroneous opinions. I must not any longer conceal my thoughts as I have heretofore, which I did only by degrees to insinuate into your good opinion, that I might be permitted one day to speak freely to you. You have just now discovered the greatest extravagance in the world; you have spoken of your Mistress as of somewhat divine, though you cannot but know she is a mortal creature that eats and drinks as any of us do. You said you had no faith but for her; have you quite forgotten the faith of your Fathers, and turned Idolater?  
Lysis seeing he was set upon more vehemently as to this point then ever he had been before, was not so extravagant, but he called to mind the good precepts had been infused into him in his infancy; so that at this very first assault of Clarimonds he was almost changed into another man. He was therefore forced to answer, that he acknowledged no other God than him that had created heaven and earth, and that he had ever adored him in the same manner as his father had taught him. As for Charite to whom he gave divine attributes, it was only to accommodate himself to the stile of the Poets, whom he was resolved to imitate. This is not all you have done, there's much more, says Clarimond, you have ever talked of an infinity of ancient Gods, as if there were really any such; and yet whosoever adores this great God who hath given us our beings, looks upon all those little Gods as having no subsistence but in fables, which men feigned while they were yet in their first errors. Have you not told us a hundred times, that there was a Diana in the woods with her Nymphs, that there are Hamadryads and Gods of the River, and Nymphs of Fountains? You have endeavoured to make all those believe it that you have conversed with, or came near you; and you once cast yourself into the water to go and visit the aquatic Divinities. I know not whether your fellow-Shepherds were such fools as to believe there were any in the world. It need not seem so strange that I believe there are such Divinities, replies Lysis: I have not only read it in Books which have been made by Pagans, but in such as have been made by Christians who are alive at this day. What you say may be true, replies Clarimond; but those Authors have writ that only as a fable; and if you doubt of it, be judged by Musardan. This Poet was still in the place; so that he confessed that it was not to be questioned but that himself and all those that wrote books spoke of those ancient Divinities as a thing feigned, only for the ornament of their Poesies, though it had sometime been a main truth, and believed, and that very passionately, by a many nations. You see what they think of it whom you have ever followed, says Clarimond; since you will needs embrace their doctrine, you must believe what they say, and you are not more learned than your masters in the lectures they read to you. You are moreover to consider, that since there is but one Almighty God, all your little Gods cannot subsist.  
Since you will have me follow the dictate of reason with you, says Lysis, I will declare one thing to you, which I would not communicate to any other person whatsoever; and that is, that I know very well that they are not really Divinities which are conceived to be in the fields, but they are so called in a certain manner of speaking; They are only Spirits under divers forms. And to make it appear to you that it is so, I have not only read in the Poets whom you tax with lying, but also in Authors that pretend to be Philosophers, and such as I dare say would be Divines. Witness Agrippa in his Occult Philosophy: 'Tis well known he speaks every where as a good Christian, and quotes passages of the holy Scripture; but yet having disposed his Spirits through all the Elements, when he comes to those he appoints for the Earth and the Water, he calls them by all those divers names we find in the Poets: He grants there are Fawns, Dryads and Hamadryads in the Forests, and naiads in the Fountains; nay he denies not but Saturn, Jupiter, and the other Gods are each of them in his several heaven, exercising that power which the Ancients attributed to them. He also tells you at large what names to call them by, and in what manner they are to be invocated in his operations. Now we never use invocation towards things that have no power. As for his part, he calls them the Governors of the World: but it is my business only to tell you, that his meaning was, that they are Spirits.  
Agrippa than it seems is one of your Authors, says Clarimond: you have been extremely reserved, that we never knew you studied his doctrine before. Know then that it is as impertinent a Fellow as ever you met with; he mingles Divinity with fables: And though he hath a mind to dress up a Christian and lawful Magic, yet he makes use of that of Hermes and other profane Authors. Because that in the magic of the Ancients the Planets were invocated, as also the rest of the inferior Divinities, he hath spoken in the same manner, as if it could be done still: But the absurdity was so great, that he hath entreated all the world to pardon him, excusing it as an error of his youth. This I find in his book of the Vanity of the Sciences: there he retracts all. Clarimond is in the right, says Philiris, there's no answer to be made to what he hath said. But though Agrippa should not believe there were Dryads and naiads, says Lysis, it follows not I should be of his opinion: Do I not remember that I have seen so many rural Divinities, when I was changed into a Tree? There was never any such thing, says Clarimond; and I tell you once more, that there was never in this world any body so changed. Do you not remember the reasons I alleged once against Metamorphoses? I told you there was none among the heathens but the simple people, that believed any such thing could be; besides that it was by accident that these opinions got any credit among them. I gave you an account of divers persons who were thought to have changed forms, and more particularly that of the Robber, who was thought to be changed into a Raven. I told you the Poets had brought those things into reputation by their Verses; and if I am not deceived, Philiris, Fontenay, and Carmelin himself approved my reasons: I know not whether they have been since poisoned by your errors.  
I remember all this, says Lysis, but I value it not. We remember it very well, says Fontenay, but we found a great deal of truth in it. You than believe impostures, replies the Shepherd all in a heat. This is not the only point you will be contradicted in, says Clarimond; be not angry yet, stay a while, and you shall have much more reason. I must tell you, that since all these Divinities you have talked of are but fictions, you had no reason to make all these Gentlemen put on Shepherd's habit, making them believe that you would make them happy by that means, and bring them into conversation with the immortals. As for your golden age, you know what I said to you of it; I told you plainly, that to make that return, we must put on as much savageness as those of the new found world. There was never any imagined that that kind of life could be as delightful as ours.  
What hath Lysis then deceived us? cries out Philiris; I had little reason to come so far to find him. If he knows no more than I have yet seen, the Shepherds of our Country know as much, I will return to them. And shall I, says Fontenay, stay here with an Impostor, who hath promised me such wonders if I would continue Shepherd? O! Cousin Hircan, give me my red suit again. Polidor and Meliantes said also, they would be no longer Shepherds; so that Hircan desired them to be quiet, and told them they should all have what clothes they had brought to his house. Lysis extremely troubled at this revolt, told them they would at leisure repent their forsaking him: but Clarimond bid him not to be so persuaded, and told him he would make it appear to him, that he had never known the least happiness of condition, since he turned Shepherd, and that of all he had believed, there had nothing happened to him; and to that purpose he thus continued the discourse.  
You are then to imagine, that I am better acquainted with your adventures then yourself, for I have not only learned what you thought of them, but also what others conceived who have abused you.  
In the first place, being come to St. Clou, where you put on your Pastoral habit, Anselm having found you, as you admired your precious relics, was so far from blaming you for it, that he harkened attentively to your extravagant history; but what amazement must he have been in, to see you esteem so highly the foulest things in the world; and having promised you great assistance, such as was that of drawing Charite's picture, you took him for the God Pan. The Poets never told you that the Sylvane God pretended to any skill in painting, but you thought there could be nothing impossible to a god. I will not mention the reasons you alleged to your Guardian, to persuade him that you ought to be a Shepherd, and that he should be one too, if he had any design to be happy. There hath been laughing enough at that impertinence already; I shall only mention that simplicity of yours to go and speak to a country Lobcock in Poetical and Romantic terms. The powe● you attributed to Charite, put him into such a fright, that he and all his acquaintance were alarmed all that night, imagining the end of the world to be at hand; I know not whether any died upon that fright. If any such thing had happened, you had been the cause of their death, and you would have been punished as a murderer. You would also needs interrogate the Echo, but you were neatly cheated; for whereas you imagined it was the Echo of the Poets that had answered you, it was this Anselm whom you see, who cannot deny it. You might have perceived then, how much he slighted and laughed at the extravagances of the Poets, by the stories he told you about that repetition of the voice, and concerning the three Destinies. He also laughed at that opinion of yours about the Sun, taking what is said of it literally. You are to know, there is but one, and if we find it in the morning in another quarter, though he hath been hidden from us, yet it did only pass under us, to enlighten the other Hemisphere, and did not rest in the sea, as your impertinent Authors tell you. Yet Anselm complied with you so far, as to make you another promise of Charites picture. I pass by your extravagance in the Inn, of not eating ought but what was red. This you would needs do, and your humour was satisfied. You perceived well enough that you had already deceived yourself, when Anselm told you that it was not handsome to play the Shepherd at St. Clou, and it was a great argument he told you the truth, when such a rout bore you company with stones. You were also pitifully abused when you took a Country fellow for a Satire; for who hath ever seen any in France, unless it be in picture, or only by disguise in Pastorals and Masks? Nay, where were there ever any seen in the world; There's mention only of two or three, but they were monsters, things extraordinary in nature. As for the picture which Anselm gave you, do you not see he did it only to abuse those descriptions of beauty which are in the Poets? Do you think yourself that the features of that Metaphorical face are like those of the Natural face of your Mistress? Though that were possible, amidst so many several colours, 'tis not Anselm hath done it, for he is not so good a painter, as that there can any excellent things come from him, he can only shadow Copper-pieces. I stick not to say this before him, because his reputation lies another way. 'Twas also out of abuse, that he permitted you to be Judge in the difference between him and Montenor; and though you had not given judgement on his side, Geneura had nevertheless been frustated of her expectation. He seemed to attribute great authority to your words: your Serenade and your Love-letters were in his opinion ridiculous enough, but you abused yourself more egregiously, when you kissed the clapper of Leonora's door, while you perceived not you were sprinkled with Urine instead of Rose-water. I omit many little particulars, as the Garlands wherewith you would adorn the portals of Charites palace, and the meeting with the Merchants of Paris, whom you took for Pirates. In all these were you as strangely deluded as could be imagined. When you were one evening at Charite's, 'twas pleasantly imagined of you that the candle could have been lighted at her eyes: If the Poets find out so many conceptions upon the flames which issue out of their Mistress' eyes, they must be esteemed no other than Poetical impertinences. I cannot but laugh at your extravagant jealousy the day following, when you found Charite asleep in the garden. You were jealous of your own shadow, nay of the very Atoms, and therefore with much more reason of any thing that touched her, as the grass whereon she lay. You imagined the Sun made a noise, as he went through the heaven, and that the plants did the like in growing: You afterwards committed a world of fooleries, and the perfection of your extravagance was, that being near Charite in the Court, you believed the fire of her eyes had burnt your hat, when it was one of Anselmes Lackeys had done it with a Burning-glass: In consequence of this opinion, you imagined the next day that you were all afire, and went and cast yourself into a fountain, where you had been drowned had not sudden relief come. Being after this at Paris, you went to Burgundy-house, where you took the Comedy for a truth, making better sport to all the world than any play. 'Twas another good humour of yours, when you believed that the picture of an imaginary Shepherd was your own, and when you astonished the Stationer in St. James street with your words and actions. The discourse you held with Cecilia when you lay at her house were very pleasant, and 'twas pretty to see you come into this Country, when you thought you had gone into Forests. This cheat you are convinced of, you can say nothing to it. Here's Anselm present that can Witness it, and not only this, but all the rest, in case you will deny them.  
Anselm upon this advanced, and very seriously confirmed all that Clarimond had said; whereat Lysis was so dashed, that he suffered the other to proceed in his reproaches.  
Do you not also remember, says Clarimond, that I began to discover you by another error of yours at my house: You took my mother for the sage Felicia; 'tis true, she is sage, but not Felicia. You were afterward mightily deceived, when you thought I would have taken your part; and again, when you gave your Mistress a Serenade, you thought it was an Hamadryad that answered you on the Lute, for it was our friend Hircan, whom I had given notice to of your enterprise. The good Hermit here present can also witness, that you spoke to him as if he had been a Druid, or some Magician, because you had read in your books, that the Hermit's did sometimes practise Magic, and thought there was no sin in it. The most matchless delusion was, that when you afterwards met Hircan, you took him for a Magician, and thought the Gentlewoman whom you called Synopa a Nymph of the waters. 'Twas as good a trick when you imagined that this cunning man, had changed you so perfectly into a maid, that you were taken for no other. Being a servant in that sex at Orontes', you were accused of incontinence; and for trial, they made you get up on a brass plate, which could not hurt you, there being no fire under; I came and proffered to die for you; and when Leonora had commanded you to be burnt, Hircan came and delivered you from the injustice of your enemies; but all this was but a Comedy, for it was so well known that you were Lysis, that the very children knew it, and they had much ado to keep them from telling you so. Being afterward come to my house with Carmelin, you did so many extravagances that my Mother was amazed at it; but I pass by that, to come to your Metamorphosis. Having fallen by chance into a hollow Willow, you imagined you were become a tree, though none else thought so. What confirmed you in this was, that Synopa came and visited you that night with two maids, who called themselves Hamadryads: one of them is here yet. As for the God Morin, who came after, it was Hircan, and Lucida was Amaryllis; and for the Cypress-tree, it was a servingman. The fables which were related to you, were purposely made to abuse you; and all the other particulars of that adventure were out of design. The second night Anselm, Montenor and myself clad ourselves like Gods of Rivers to come and visit you; and that we spoke not, was for fear we might be discovered. When we had sufficiently made sport with you and Carmelin, Hircan appeared to you like a Magician. Anselm and I acted the two winds which blew down the Tree Lysis, who afterwards thought he was become a man again: for indeed it was no hard matter to persuade him to be one. If you will not credit this, call to mind the false birds which you found in this house some days since, they were the same we had on when we acted the Gods of the Rivers, and for the rest of our dress, you shall be shown them at any time. Since that, many things have happened to you which were very remarkable; and above all, the discourse which passed between you and me concerning the Poets was very excellent, which had this effect, that you sent a Bill to be posted up in Paris. You received a Command without Command from your Mistress, and then you would needs be sick, because she was. But that which is most admirable, is the abuse which Philiris, Polidor, Meliantes and Fontenay put upon you. They made you believe they were turned Shepherds for your sake, and that indeed you may make good, but if they did it, 'twas to make sport with you. Philiris is no Shepherd by birth, Fontenay never had any mind to that condition of life; and as for Polidor and Meliantes, they are Persisians as much as I am: All the stories they have related to you, have been forged out of their own brains. As for Lucida and Synopa, you were very credulous when you saw them, to imagine they were both Shepherdesses, and not the Nymphs you had seen before. As for Synopa, she is returned to her own house, and was not; as you conceive, changed into a Rock: The Country people hereabouts will tell you, that the rock which you would have Carmelin love, hath been time out of mind in the same place where you found it. The Hamadeyad you saw in the day, was Lisetta covered over with bark. As for the Ambassadors from Paris who came to you, they had only put on the names: And as for the enchanted Castle, whither you were carried in a Coach, 'twas a house of Hircans, which you may see when you please: we were the Giants, and the hulch-back Soldiers, and you were no more invulnerable than any other. You went not through the air, neither coming nor going; for I assure you that Hircan never pretended to be a Magician. When you thought to have carried away Charite, you only laid hold of a bugbear, which Orontes' Maids had dressed on purpose for you. And to conclude my discourse, you have not taken any poison to make away yourself, and consequently Charites eyes have not raised you to life again.  
Clarimond having thus ended his discourse, Lysis was on the point to render himself, and yet he made him this answer. What, wilt thou then deprive me of the glory of so many noble actions? Can it be possible that so many honest people have deceived me? Anselm hath already confessed he hath done so, but may I believe it for the rest? Though we came to take our leaves of you, as pretending to return into the Country whence we came▪ replies Philiriss, yet must we confess that it was to play the last of our pranks with you. And for my part, says Hircan, I was never any Magician: I assure you that all that Clarimond hath said is true, and I will give you what proofs of it you please to desire; I will show you all the dresses wherein we have been disguised to bring about these notable adventures, and will bring you all the Country hereabouts to tell you who I am, and who these Gentlemen are that have played the Shepherds.  
All that were present having made Lysis the like assurances of the truth, and that very seriously, he was so touched with grief and indignation to have been so long deceived, that notwithstanding all his extravagance he fell a weeping, which with an accession of shame made him run away into a chamber where there was nobody. Clarimond having followed him thither, he cries out as soon as he perceived him, O God with what impostures hath my youth been abused? You would needs make us believe you were a Tree, and many other such things, says Clarimond; we could do no less than endeavour to abuse you too. You have no reason to be angry with any for deluding you, for we were all forced to it, since you were the first deceived yourself, and that to comply with you there was no other way but by deceiving you. We must needs have given way to the first violence of your imaginations, lest by too great opposition they would have turned to fury. For my part I am he hath with the first endeavoured to undeceive you, and you may have taken notice of it; and 'tis in this case that you have had testimony of that friendship which I have so often boasted you. Let it appear that I have employed my time well this day, and that you will no longer persist in those errors which have hitherto troubled your brain.  
What must I then do? says Lysis; advise me, that so I may not be destitute of all things. I have erewhiles sufficiently shown you the impertinences of those fabulous books, replies Clarimond; and through a fatal chance, all those who have entertained you hitherto have shown you as much, though possibly without any design of theirs. All the stories which were told you one night of the rural Divinities were so ridiculous, that you need no more to disengage your faith from Poetical Transformations. As for the histories of the four Shepherds, I have already said somewhat by way of example concerning the four kinds of Romances. Since Synopa had before given you a Relation of Metamorphoses, it was requisite the history of Fontenay should represent a Romance after the ancient mode, where they talk of naiads, men falling in love with themselves as Narcissus did, and the artifices of Magicians. As for the history of Philiris, it represented a Romance full of sympathy, sweetness and passion, such as might pass in this age, giving only the names of Shepherds to the persons introduced. As for what passed between Polidor and Rhodogina, there's an example of those tales that old wives tell children, and of such as I call Italian fables, because the Italians were the first broachers of them. Straparole hath made a sort of them in his Merry-nights, and divers others have imitated him. As for the adventures of Meliantes, they are according to the mode of your military Romances; and it is not to be forgotten that even Carmelin in the relation of his life hath given us an example of those Spanish Romances, wherein are represented the shifts and cheats of Beggars and Servants. It will be easily granted that all these Narrations exceed those I allow them for precedents; for though they are not so long, yet do they contain better things, and all through discover both order and invention. However I must tell you they are sufficiently extravagant, and worthy to be contemned: And upon this ground I am to persuade you not to give yourself any more to the reading of such stories, since the best of them are not worth any thing; and that if you read any, it may be to laugh at them, or at the most for a transient pleasure, without ever imagining that you should live like the persons which are mentioned in them. Your desire was to imitate the Shepherds, though there be no pleasure in that kind of life; a man may live well enough in the Country, without carrying a sheephook: See how Hircan lives, see how Orontes, see how I live: We live always here, we go a hunting, we go a fishing, we walk abroad, we do what we please; is not that all you can desire? Whereas if we were Shepherds, we must look after our Flocks, which were a thing of too much trouble: one while a Sheep would be gone astray, which must be found again; another while a Wolf would make bold with one, and that must be pursued and recovered; or it may be a Rot would seize all our flock, and it would be no small employment to make them sound again. What means is there for men to enjoy themselves, as you would desire to do, amidst these several occupations which belong only to servants? you will tell me, that the Shepherds mentioned in the books, were not so careful of their flocks, and that they entrusted them to others; or it may be they had not any at all. You must then grant me, that there is no necessity of keeping sheep in point of happiness; nor consequently to be clad in white, and carry a sheephook: for the equipage of a Shepherd, is not necessary to him that does not actually profess Shepherdry; and when you shall quote me the examples of divers who have wore such a habit as yours, and yet kept no flocks, I shall confess that your Books are true; but if ever any did wear such a habit, they did it only out of conformity to some they conversed with, which cannot be said of you, since you were for aught we know the only Romantic Shepherd in France, when you began to be so first. Now do not tell me, that you know well enough that there are not many of your quality, but that your design is to bring Shepherdry into its former reputation; for to what purpose should you do so? I tell you once more, that without all that trouble you may enjoy all the pleasures in the world. Remember what Fontenay did one day cast in your teeth, when he compared you to Don Quixot; there will be many who will not stick to believe you imitate him, and when your adventures shall transcend his, they will be looked on no otherwise then greater arguments of your madness.  
Lysis was in a deep consideration all the time of this discourse, and his mind being more cleared up then ordinary, the admonitions of Clarimond were not displeasing to him. Now that you have deprived me of my companions, says he to him, will you have me quit the Shepherd's habit? I am so far from robbing you of your Companions, replies Clarimond, that Philiris and the rest will be more with you then ever, and will be eternally your friends; but for the Shepherd's habit, you have no man's approbation to wear it any longer. If you only took that from me, 'twere no great matter, saves Lysis; but you will also take away all testimonies of the affection I desire to bear Charite, and 'tis a great hazard you will not take away that very Charite from me. The testimonies of your affection to your Mistress hitherto have been too extravagant, says Clarimond. Those must consist in things that speak reason, and discretion, and you will find, if you follow my directions, that you shall obtain whatever you desire of her, for I am very far from doing any thing might hinder you to serve her. Besides that, the more to induce you to quit this Shepherd's habit, I must tell you it is the only thing wherein you displease her. I leave you here a while to consider of it.  
Clarimond having with these words left Lysis, returned to the rest of the company. He told them all how gently Lysis had received his directions, and how stayed and discreet his answers were, and what hopes there were that in a short time he might be brought into a fair way: whereupon Amaryllis asked, whether it were not fit to send the Hermit to him, whose presence might oblige him to some respect, and put him the more in mind of his duty; but it was not thought convenient, because it was more likely Clarimond should better go through with the good design he had undertaken; so that the Hermit was a while after dispatched away. 'Twas generally confessed that the artifices which Clarimond had made use of to restore Lysis to himself, were so pleasant, that all the extravagant sallies of the Shepherd had not given near so great satisfaction. Carmelin himself, who had herd all, was very glad his Master was convinced of so many truths, which he had sometimes taken great pains to persuade him to, and though he knew not what kind of life they should lead together for the future, yet was he never the sadder, when he considered that thenceforward no man would abuse them, nor would they suffer themselves to be abused: For as for his part, to remedy all the delusions and cheats which might be put upon them, he resolved, that if ever he were called to any Enchantment or Metamorphosis, he would never give credit to any such thing, no, not though all the men in the world should persuade him to a thing contrary to his opinion.  
As for Adrian, he was so overjoied to see how Clarimond bestirred himself to restore his Cousin to his wits, and how far he had advanced, that he gave him all the thanks imaginable. Clarimond not finding Musardan, enquired where he was. They told him he was gone away, intending to lie that night at Lagny, though Hircan would have stayed him; & that the cause of his departure was, that Adrian having understood at his first coming in, that he was a maker of Romances, and that Lysis had read his books, bore him such an inplacable grudge, that he set upon him assoon as he could possiby, and railed at him he could, whereto the Author not knowing what to answer, and withal, seeing his adversary backed by so many, thought it his best course to dislodge. Clarimond was much vexed that he had not seen the contest; but what he had done in the mean time was of greater consequence. He was satisfied with the particular account which Adrian gave him of all that had been said; and afterwards turning to another discourse, he told the good man that his Cousins first malady was love, and that the only desire to serve a Mistress perfectly, was that which had formed in his head the imaginations of so many adventures, which he grounded upon those of the Romances, as he had gathered from all that had passed, so that to persuade him that a woman may be pleased without all those extravagances, must needs be the only means to bring him perfectly to himself; but that it were dangerous to deceive him in this case, unless there were a design to make him stark mad: As for example, if he be told that Charite would not be cruel to him, she must not discover the least cruelty: Whereupon Hircan said, it was no hard matter to make him a happy man, and that was to work a marriage between him and that fair Charite. Adrian would know truly who she was, to see if the match were any thing considerable. Leonora told him, that she was a near Kinswoman of her last husbands, and that she had taken her into her service, because she was not too forward in the world, but that she would give somewhat with her in marriage. They represented to Adrian that though his Cousin had great wealth, yet could he not meet with a more advantageous match, because he having the reputation of a hollow brain, there would be no such striving for him. Adrian and his wife esteeming an alliance with Leonora very honourable, and considering other reasons, said that they thought very well of Lysis' marriage with Charite, if so be the rest of his friends would consent thereto. They also remembered them, that they had seen that Charite in the morning, and that she seemed to be of a good calm nature, so that they thought very well of her.  
And thus were they very serious about the marrying of Lysis, out of a confidence he would be wiser by it, as indeed there was much appearance. Leonora understanding he was very rich, saw that at all adventure it would not be amiss to bestow Charite on him, by reason that though he should continue in the same crasiness, yet his madness was harmless, and haply he had not been guilty of so many extravagances, had not others started the occasions.  
Orontes upon this going home with all those that had any relation to him, Adrian took his leave of them, promising Leonora that he would treat with his friends about the marriage of his Cousin, and that he would write to her what he should do in it. Clarimond went up into the chamber where Lysis was, and said to him. You must needs confess that the moment wherein you began to contemn your former opinion was very happy to you; for it was no sooner heard that you would hearken to reason, but all the world are persuaded you will obtain your own wishes of Charite: Leonora, Angelica, Adrian, and Pernella are of your side; who can now do you any hurt? That very Charite, replies Lysis. You will find the contrary, says Clarimond.  
Lysis fell afresh to consider of this, and yet he was extremely glad to understand that those who were most concerned in his affairs were so favourable to him. When suppertime came, he sat down at table with the rest: But the shame which seized him that he was so long abused by those in whom he had placed the greatest confidence, had so cast him down, that he durst not speak a word. Adrian and his wife thought it a good sign, and conceived he would thenceforward be more discreet; so that the next day they returned to Paris very well satisfied, promising him whatever he desired, on condition he would be no more a Shepherd. As for Clarimond, he thought that silence no good presage, and that it was to be feared he might fall out of one misfortune into another, and that his extravagance would turn to stupidity. To remedy this, he thought it necessary he were withdrawn from those persons who obliged him to so much fear and bashfulness. This design communicated to Hircan, who thought it very convenient that Clarimond took Lysis and Carmelin to his own Castle.  
They were no sooner gone, but Fontenay and his companions took their way for Burgundy, whither some business called them. They gave infinite thanks to Hircan, not only for their entertainment so long, but also for the rare diversions which by his means they had had. In the mean time Angelica told Charite, that it was resolved she should be married to Lysis. Her answer was, that it was only to abuse her, to bestow her on a man that was a laughingstock wherever he came. Angelica assured her, that for the future he would be wiser, and that nobody would persuade him to any further extravagances. She had no quarrel with his person, for his face was not so deformed as to frighten; and if all were as well in his mind, she would not be long entreated to make good what was undertaken.  
Lysis being at Clarimond's, found that Montenor had sent from his house the clothes he was accustomed to wear in the City, which Anselm had not fogotten to preserve. Clarimond told him that he must put them on; and indeed they were more convenient for the season then the Shepherd's habit. His Coat was all spotted and all torn, it could not possibly hold out in so many adventures; and it was withal so ill lined, that it could not defend him from the cold and reins which in the Autumn were somewhat frequent. He therefore took the clothes, which it was a long time since he had worn; but he was so long making himself ready, that it was easily perceived he was not perfectly resolved to do what he did. I cannot dissemble, says he to Clarimond; it troubles me much to quit a garment that I was long accustomed to: I thought that the only wearing of it was a powerful means to make me enjoy all the pleasures of this life. These opinions are hard to overcome. Are you not then yet converted? says Clarimond; have you not been a Shepherd long enough? I will bring one of the truest reasons in the world to convince you. Remember yourself, and you will find that in all your Books of Shepherdry, they only that are in Love are clad like Shepherds: As for those that are married, it is not said that they meddle with any Flocks. You must do so if you marry Charite, as I hope you will. 'Tis true, you are not yet married; but what will you be the worse to quit the habit of a Bachelor a little before, since your friends advise you to it?  
This was a huge subtlety of Clarimonds: He would bring Lysis to reason by the authority of those ancient Authors, and bring him to wisdom by the maxims of folly. Yet Lysis smillingly said to him, Dear friend! you do not consider, that when it is not mentioned that those that are not married kept Flocks, it is only that they are not brought upon the stage so openly, in regard it is the Author's design to write only the history of young Lovers that are to be married. And when you find any fathers of families withdraw to their houses, 'tis by reason of their old age, or because they have children big enough to look after their sheep.  
Clarimond hearing this, was afraid Lysis persisted still in his former imaginations; so that he roughly returned him this answer. Whatever you can allege, it matters not: So it is, that I must have you in good earnest shake off this Shepherd's habit. Is there any necessity to wear it to charm a Mistress? Consider, I pray, who hath been more fortunate in their Loves, you or Anselm: Did Anselm ever turn Shepherd to get Angelica? Had he done it, he had not obtained her yet; and for your part, as long as you are one, you shall never obtain Charite. Have I not told you, that the Maids in these times do not affect Shepherds? You that do all you can to please your Mistress, do you not perceive that you have done nothing but displeased her hitherto?  
These reasons so seasonably pressed, and so easy to be apprehended, finished the work of Lysis his conversion. And to make him yet conceive the truth more fully, Clarimond seeing he said not a word, continued his discourse in this manner. What could you hope to do by clothing yourself thus like a Comedian, and living like a Romantic person? I will rub over your memory with the misfortunes have happened to you upon that occasion. You could never bring about any one of your Love-designs. When you desired to speak with your Mistress, or at least kiss the window whereon she learned, you fell down the ladder, having your nose bathed in blood, so that you were taken by the collar for a thief and a murderer. As for your disguising yourself like a Maid, you were never the better for it, it came to nothing; and so did your Metamorphosis. If it were possible a man could be changed into a Tree, what were he the better for it? You imagined it a matter of honour and advantage; and 'tis true, the Poets bring examples of a many persons favoured by the Gods, which have changed forms: but do you not find also in the same Authors, that those who had committed the greatest crimes were in like manner transformed? 'Tis therefore a question whether the Metamorphosis be a punishment or a reward; and the true judgement that may be given of it, is, that it ought every way to be taken as a most ridiculous absurdity. As for the imaginary deliverance of Pamphilia, wherein you thought you had done such miracles of valour, and merited a name and place amongst the most famous Heroes, whose hath lived till now; what wonders could you have done, had you been invusnerable as you imagined? 'Twas only your confidence of being so, that made you go so cheerfully to fight. It was the same case with Achilles and a many other Heroes, who could not be wounded, whom you thought to imitate. Be their adventures either fabulous or true, I shall laugh at all those that take them for valiant Champions, and compare to them all the Princes they would celebrate: For had they believed they could receive wounds, it would have discovered some natural cowardice in them, and they had never gone to the battle so resolutely. I believe you do not intend to play the Heros any more; but you will have me think that you cannot so easily take your leave of the Shepherd, because you would still continue your extravagancies, which you think are testimonies of your affection to Charite. What, will you still observe how many bits you eat, and how many times you drink; and that to honour Charite? Would you also eat nought but red things, and will you never be at ease till you are turned towards that quarter where you conceive your fair one to be? Will you henceforth observe your amorous conformities? will you eat nothing but what Charite likes? will you cough when she coughs; and if she have the eye bound up, will you have yours too? What other end can there be of this, but to make you be laughed at? A woman is never touched with any love for any of these fooleries: this is not the way to render services to a Mistress. All your past actions can signify nothing to this purpose. And if it was your design to show by that means how great your compliance was, I tell you, you will discover it much more, if you quit the Shepherd's habit. That's the point I drive at, and I will make it clearly appear to you where your great error lies; and that is, that you have not laboured at all the principal conformity which is now required, since you are so much given to conformities. Charite is dressed as an ordinary Maid of her condition, and you are clad like a Shower of Puppet-plays. Since she is not clad like a Shepherdess, you should not go like a Shepherd.  
Lysis having heard all this, was ashamed he had said any thing that should make Clarimond believe he would contradict him. The reasons that Gentleman had alleged, wrought so powerfully on him, that he resolved to follow them for the future. The fear he was in to displease Charite, kept his mind within compass; so that he suffered them to dispose his Shepherd's habit where they pleased, so it should be never seen again. Having found also among his tromperies the Metaphorical Picture, and all those things he had so carefully preserved because, they had come from his Mistress, he of his own accord gave them to Clarimond to, do what he pleased with them. It was not fit he should see any more the badges of his ancient follies, and his hope was he should shortly obtain of Charite favours of greater consequence than those.  
Since the bare reading of Romances had been able to put so many several imaginations into him, seconded by the cheats and abuses had been put upon him, 'tis to be conceived he was of a tender persuasible composition of mind, and that it was as easy to make him hate his extravagances, as it had been to bring him in love with them. He accordingly confessed to Clarimond, that he heartily repented him of all he had done; but that it was impossible for him to refrain doing them, because that though he was not ignorant of the truth, yet he sometimes would deceive himself purposely to deceive others, so to make his adventures the more remarkable. As for example, he was never half persuaded that he was changed into a Tree, nor did he believe those other extraordinary things; but he pretended to believe them, that others might believe them too, and that there might be made of him a Romance that should make him eternally famous. He at length came to an excellent good humour and was more apprehensive of reason than he had ever been, as it happens that men's minds pass from one extreme to another: which Clarimond observing, told him that he was the most satisfied man in the world, to see him as other men. And thereupon to make a final riddance of all those corrupt imaginations, he made a discourse to him about the Divinity, representing to him that we should adore none but God alone, and not idolise his Creatures, which we must only love in order to him; whereas it seemed he did not love God but for his Mistress' sake. He showed him, that the Eyes of a Beauty are no Suns, that give us day, or could reduce to ashes those things whereon they cast their rays. And thus he gave him clearly to see the errors he committed in relation to all Sciences, when he took the Poets for warrant and authority for what he said. For his further instructions, he permitted him to go into his Study, and there choose out some good Books.  
They spent five or six days in such entertainments, in which time Anselm and Hircan neglected not to send daily to know what they did. They were very glad to hear that Lysis began to hearken to Reason; for it would have been a huge barbarousness, if after they had made as much sport with him as they could desire, they should still wish to see him in his extravagances. Clarimond being desirous that all might see what an excellent Physician of the mind he was, would needs carry his Guest abroad to visit their common friends: but Lysis told him that he had no great desire to go, because he was sensible of the many follies he had committed before them, and feared they might jeer him. Clarimond made great protestations to him, to assure him there should be no such thing; and told him withal, that any one might easily conceive that a person in Love is not himself, and that his past actions were as much to be excused as the rave of one in a burning fever.  
They went therefore in the first place to Hircan's, and thence to Oroutes', where they were all amazed to see that Lysis was not the same man who had played so many ridiculous tricks before them. He was extreme sad, according to his disposition; and he was now of the same humour he was of in his infancy. Yet he spoke when he was spoken to earnestly, but it was without any laughing, how pleasant soever the occasion might be. 'Tis the custom of those whose brains are too light, whether they laugh, or whether they rejoice, they do it in the heat of their sickness; their joy is but an extravagance, and their laughing from the teeth outward; but when their frenzy is somewhat over, they make no noise, and whatever is said is indifferent to them. I wonder at nothing so much, as that Lysis did not change his Love with his humour: but it is to be conceived his passion proceeded from another cause then that of his folly.  
He secretly learned out the place where his Mistress was, and he was permitted to visit her. He demanded her pardon, if he had at other times importuned her with extraordinary discourses, and that for the future the testimonies of his affection towards her should be no other than what were according to the precepts of reason. She, who had been commanded by Lenora to receive him courteously, answered him, that she thought herself much honoured in his Love, if so be his affections did not exceed the limits of honesty. This gave him such satisfaction, that he imagined there were no more miseries ordained for him; nor indeed was he deceived; for about this time Anselm received Letters from Adrian, by which he understood that all Lysis' friends, whereof some by chance knew Charite, consented he should marry her, provided he were fully delivered from his former imaginations. Anselm returned him an answer to the great commeudation of Lysis, and desired him to return into Brie, and bring with him those he thought convenient to his Cousin's wedding. The messenger departed immediately, and Lysis assured of his happiness, was inexpressibly glad. Yet he said not much of it, because Clarimond had forbidden him to engage into unprofitable discourses when he were in company, lest through negligence he might slip into some of his ancient Romantic talk. He so extremely loved this Gentleman, since he understood that he bore him such a sincere affection, that he was ever afraid to disobey him, nay when he but saw him, he corrected his behaviour, and thought that all the imaginations came into his mind were superfluous; so that he held his peace for a good while after.  
Two days after came Adrian, with two other of Lysis' Cousins. Lenoora entertained them very kindly at Orontes': When they saw their Kinsman, they thought they had never seen a wiser man; as indeed there was such a difference between what he had been, and what he was, that if he chanced to slip into some little impertinence, they were so dull, that they could not perceive it. The contract of his marriage was passed without his notice, all he troubled himself with was to sign it. Adrian had the care to see it in form, he himself being so transported in his loves, that he could not descend to such low thoughts as relate to the goods of fortune. Charite had somewhat left her by her father, and besides that, Leonora gave her a house; which stood somewhat near that of Orontes. There it was resolved the new married couple should keep house together; for though Lysis would be no longer a Shepherd, yet would he not leave the Country. There was a great feast at their making sure, and the next day they were married: Though the company was not great, yet they were merry enough, but nothing all the while said to Lysis that might offend him; it being but a little while since he began to follow the common opinion of all other men, 'twould have been dangerous to put him into any disquiet.  
Carmelin seeing his Master married, wished himself the same happiness. Lysis having given him a small sum of money for his good and faithful service, Lisetta continued no longer in rebellion, but submitted. The next day they were married, and though he was but simple, and no great Clerk, Orontes made him Bailiff within his Lordship, finding him able enough for that charge.  
Adrian and the rest of Lysis' friends returned to Paris with Leonora and Anselm, who carried his wife with him. Orontes writ to them since, that the two lovers his neighbours lived a very comfortable life together, and that there wanted nothing to make them perfectly happy, but to find Lysis some little office, for to exempt him of the taxes. When they had purchased him one, he thought himself in such a posture as might defy misfortune, seeing himself a Country Gentleman, and the clothes he wore of several colours pleased him no less than the Countryman's coat: yet whenever he heard the bleating of sheep, he could not but call to mind the false pleasure he once took to keep some. He sometimes as he read a Book, strayed into the woods; but he had quite shaken hands with all Love-books, he meddled now with none but Treatises of Moral Philosophy. Yet Clarimond perceiving that his mind received all impressions with too much vehemence, was afraid he would fall into some other new folly, and more particularly become a Ssoick or Cynic Philosopher. He had already read in Charron and some other Authors, that a man must take pains in the generation of children, and yet not give one's self bruitally over to it, and that there were some certain observations whereby to get fair children, straight and witty. He would observe with Charite the Dict prescribed for that purpose, and his caresses and embraces were limited to the appointed time. But Clarimond desirous to keep him from being either superstitious or extravagant, rid him of those fancies assoon as he perceived him possessed with them. He told him, he should laugh at those Philosophers, who though never married themselves, yet importune us with their fantastic notions of marriage; and moreover assured him, that to get perfect children, it was enough to live temperately, referring the business to nature; and that when the children were born, good education perfected the rest.  
Thus did Clarimond and Orontes always divert him from things that were not commendable; and though a many came to see him out of design to put his follies afresh into his head, yet they prevailed nothing. I must needs confess that there happened to him adventures pleasant enough since his marriage, but his particular friends were the only witnesses of them, and it is not my design to make my history any longer. I must leave that to some other that will take the pains, that when several persons have employed their endeavours on the same subject, it may be judged who hath done best. All I have now to do, is to give you that account which is ever required at the end of all Love-stories, which is to let you know what became of all the persons therein mentioned. Know therefore, that Philiris and Fontenay are married in Burgundy, that Polidor was killed in a duel, and that Meliantes is gone to travel. Montenor and Clarimond are still Bachelors. Leonor a is dead; and as for Hircan, Orontes and Anselm, they keep good house with their wives, and so does Carmelin.  
You have now all; it was in my design to tell you of the divers fortunes of the Shepherd Lysis, according to the notes I had of them from Philiris and Clarimond, who it seems had not the leisure to put them into order. Lysis having read some part of this, was nothing troubled to see his adventures made public, because he believes such as they are, they will be a testimony of the affection he ever bore Charite; and that besides, it will be an example for youth not to regulate their lives according to those impertinences, which are contrary to the order of the world. But because I speak to you of him as one that is still alive, I am in doubt whether many who shall read his History, may not be guilty of a curiosity to go into Brie, to see if they can find that so famous Lysis: Wherefore I give them notice, that henceforth they shall not need take the pains, and that possibly they may not find him, because he is so changed, that he hath left off that very name he was called by when he was a Shepherd. And besides, why may they not distrust me? What know they whether I have not related a fable to them instead of a true History; or that I have not, to disguise things, and not discover the persons I have spoken of, as indeed I have, called them by other than their ordinary names, and mistaken Brie for some other Province?  
The End of the Fourteenth and last Book.  
FINIS.