THE COMICAL ROMANCE: OR A Facetious HISTORY of a COMPANY OF STAGE-PLAYERS. Interwoven with divers Choice Novels, Rare Adventures, and Amorous Intrigues.  
Written Originally in French by the Renowned SCARRON; And now Turned into English By J. B.  
London, Printed for John Playfere, at the White Lion in the Upper-walk of the New Exchange: and William Crook, at the Three Bibles on Fleet-Bridge, 1665.   

The Contents of the First PART.  

CHap. 1. A Company of Comedians arrived at the City of Manse. page 1  
Chap. 2. What monsieur de la Rapinire was. p. 4  
Chap. 3. The deplorable success of the Play. p. 7  
Chap. 4. In which is continued the Relation of Mr. lafoy Rapiniere, with what happened in his house at that night. p. 11  
Chap. 5. Which contains no great matter. p. 15  
Chap. 6. The accident of the Chamber-pot; the troublesome night Rancour gave the Inn: The arrival of part of the Player's Company: The death of Doguin, and other remarkable passages. p. 19  
Chap. 7. The Adventures of the Horse Litters. p. 26.  
Chap. 8. In which you may read many things very necessary to be known, for the better understanding of this Book. p. 30  
Chap. 9 The History of the Invisible Lover. p. 34  
Chap. 10. How Ragotin had a sound rap on his fingers with a Busk. p. 59  
Chap. 11. Containing what you shall find, if you take the pains to read it. p. 66  
Chap. 12. A Nocturnal Combat. p. 72  
Chap. 13. The History of Mounsieur Destiny and Madam Star. p. 81  
Chap. 14. What befell the Curate of Domfront. p. 106  
Chap. 15. The Operators arrival at the Inn. A continuation of the History of Destiny and Star. p. 113  
Chap 16. The opening of a Theatre, or Acting of a Play; with other things of no less consequence. p. 117  
Chap. 17. The ill success of Ragotins' civility. p. 161  
Chap. 18. The remainder of the History of Destiny and Star. p. 163  
Chap. 19 Several Reflections which are not amiss. Ragotins' new disgrace, and other things which you may read if you please. p. 178  
Chap. 20 The shortest of the present Volume. Ragotins' fall from his Horse, and somewhat of the l●ke nature happening to Roquebrune, p. 186  
Chap. 21. Which perhaps will not be found very pleasing. p. 188  
Chap. 22. The Novel. Or the Trappanner Trapan'd. p. 194  
Chap. 23. An unexpected misfortune, which hindered them from Acting the Comedy. p. 222    

THE COMICAL ROMANCE.  

CHAPTER I.  
A Company of Comedians Arrive at the City of Manse.  
THe sun had finished above half his course, and his Chariot having reached the descent of the World, rolled a little swifter than he would have had it. If his Horses had taken the advantage of the sloapiness of the way, they had ended the remaining portion of the day in less ●hen half a quarter of an hour; But in stead of drawing with all their strength, they fell to curveting; smelling a Sea-air which made them Neigh, and informed them that the Sea was not far of, where it is said their Master doth lie every night. To speak more intelligibly, it was between five and six; when a Cart entered into the Market place of the City of Manse. This Cart was drawn by two yoke of very lean Oxen, conducted by a Mare that had a Foal, which Foal ran up and down about the Cart, like a little Fool as it was. The Cart was full of Trunks, Portmanteaux, and huge boundless of Painted Cloth, which made a kind of Pyramid, upon the top whereof appeared a Damsel, habited partly Citizen, partly Country-Gentleman-like. A young man as poor in habit as rich in mien, marched by the Cart's side, he had a great patch on his face which covered one of his eyes and half his cheek, he carried a long Gun upon his shoulder, with which he had murdered several Pies, Jays and Rooks, which made a kind of Bandelier about his neck, at the end whereof hung a Hen and Goose by the heels, which showed, as if they were the spoils of some little War. Instead of a Hat, he wore only a Nightcap, tacked about with garters of different colours; and his head tire was no doubt a Turban only rough-drawn, which wanted the las● hand to finish it. His Doublet was a grey freez● coat, with a leather girt about his middle which he used also for a belt to carry his sword which was so long, that it was not to be managed without a Rest. He had short trunk hos● to which his stockings were drawn up and stitched, like those the Players use when they represent some Ancient Hero, and his shoes were antique buskins, which the dirt had bemired u●to his ankles. An old man more regularly, though very ill clothed, went along by his side. He carried a Base-Viol on his back, and because he stooped a little, he seemed at a distance to be a Great Tortoise walking upon his hinder legs. Some Critic may perhaps quarrel at this comparison, because of the disproportion betwixt a Man and a Tortoise; but I mean of those overgrown Tortoises in the Indies; and besides, I tie myself to no Authority but my own. But let us return to our Caravan. It passed before the Tennis Court at the sign of the Hind, and made a halt at the door, where a great many of the chiefest Citizens were assembled together. The novelty of the Freight, and the noise of the Rascally boys that were gathered about the Cart, caused those honourable Burgo-masters to cast their eyes upon our strangers. A Provost amongst the rest named Le Rappiniere, accosted them first, and asked with a kind of majesterial authority, What they were? The young man, I lately told you of, without moving his Turban, because with one hand he held his Gun, and with the other his sword, lest it should flap against his legs, told him; They were French by Birth, Players by profession, that his Theatrical name was Destiny, his old Comrades Rancour, and the Gentlewoman that was roosting like a Hen in her Nest on the top of their bag and baggage, Cave. This fantastical name made some of the company smile, whereupon the young player added, that the name of Cave ought not to sound more ridiculously or harsh in a wise man's ear, then that of Mountain, Valley, Rose, or Thornel. The conversation ended with some Oaths and Cuffs, which were heard at the forepart of the Cart; occasioned by a servant of the Tennis Court, who without any warning had beaten the Carter, because his lean  had eaten very liberally of a truss of hay that lay at the door. The noise was appeased, and the good woman of the house, who loved Comedies better than Prayers or Sermon, out of her more than common generosity, told the Car-man he might let his beasts eat their fill. He willingly accepted her proffer, and while his  were feeding the Author reposed himself, and studied what should be the subject of the second Chapter.   

CHAP. II.  
What Person Monsieur De la Rappiniere was.  
MOnsieur De la Rappiniere was, at that time the Jester, Drole or Buffoon of the City o● Manse. It is not one alone that can serve turn in Paris; for they have one at least in every Ward. I myself, that now Writ, might hav● had the dignity for the quarter I dwell in; Bu● I have long since renounced all the Vanities o● this world, as those that know me well can justify. To return to Monsieur De la Rappiniere, he soon renewed the conversation, which the scuffle had interrupted, and asked our young Player if their company were composed but of Mad. Cave Monsieur, Rancour, and himself? Our company, replied he, is as full and complete, as the Prince of Orange's, or the Duke of Espernons: But by a disgrace which happened to us at Tours, where one of our hare-brained doorkeepers killed one of our Governors' Guard, we were forced to pack away in all haste, with one shoe off another on, in the equipage you see us. Those Soldiers have done as much at La Flesche, said Lafoy Rappiniere, St. Anthony's fire consume them, said the good woman, they are the cause we can have no Play Acted. That should be no hindrance replied the old Commedian, had we but the keys of our Chests to come at our ; for we could undertake to please the Gentlemen of this Town four or five days, before we go to Alenzon, where the rest of our company is to Rendezvous. This answer made every one prick up his ears, La Rappiniere proffered an old gown of his Wives to Cave, and the Tennis Court woman two or three suits of  she had in pawn to Destiny, and Rancour. But said one that was present, there are but three of you; Puh! says Rancour, I have Acted a Play myself alone, and have personated at the same time the King, the Queen, and the Ambassador; I spoke very shrill and small when I acted the Queen, when I Acted the Ambassador, I spoke thorough the Nose, turning myself towards a Chair where I had placed my Crown; and when I came to the King's part, I ascended my Throne, put on my Crown, and assumed a kind of Gravity, with a bigger and more manly voice: and lest you should doubt this, if you will but satisfy our Carter, and detray our charge, in our Inn; furnish us but with your , you shall see us act before night yet; or else we will go drink, by your leave, or fell ourselves a little, because we have travelled a great journey this day already. The proposition pleased the company, but that Devil De la Rappiniere who was ever studying to do mischief, said, they needed no other habits; but two suits belonging to a couple of young Citizens that were playing a se● at Tennis, since Madam Caves dress would serve for any person in a Play. No sooner said, but as soon done; in less than half a quarter of an hour, the Players had drunk every one a dish or two, were Travestyed and the company which was ere this increased, having taken their places in an upper room, from behind a foul sheet, which was drawn aside, appears the Player Destiny, lying on a bed-mat, with a wicker basket for a Crown upon his head, rubbing his drowsy eyes, like one that is newly waked, and repeating Herod; part in a sad tone, which gins thus;  
Injurious Ghost that troublest my Repose.  
The Plaster which covered the one half of his face, did not hinder him from approving himself a most excellent Actor; Madam Cave did wonderfully well in Mariana's, and Salome's parts; and Rancour gave every one very great satisfaction in what he undertook, so that the Play went exceeding well, when the Devil who never sleeps, played his part too, and made the Tragedy end, not with the death of Mariana and Herod's despair; but with a thousand sound blows, as many buffets, kicks beyond number, and infinite Oaths, and at last a good account of all taken upon examination by La Rappiniere, the most expert of mankind in such affairs.   

CHAP. III.  
The deplorable success of the Play.  
IN all the subordinate Towns of this Kingdom, there is commonly a Tennis Court, where the idler sort of people flock together; some to play, and others to look on or bet. In these places it is, where they curse and swear frequently, rhyming so richly on the name of God, there they spare neither friend nor foe in their discourse, murdering the reputation of their absent neighbours with their poisonous tongues; they give quarter to none, but treat mankind like Turks and Heathens, every one being admitted to scoff and raillie, according to the Talon he is Master of. It is in one of these Tennis-courts, as I remember, that I left three Comical Persons, reciting Mariana before a Right Honourable Audience, of which la Rappiniere was chief; at the same instant when Herod and Mariana were contending, the two young men, from whom they had taken the Suits so freely, came into the Chamber in their Drawers, each having his Racket in hand. They had neglected their being rubbed, for haste to see the Comedy; they soon knew their own clothes worn by Pherore and Herod, and the most choleric of the two, turning towards the Marker: Son of a Bitch, said he, wherefore didst thou lend my clothes to that Puppet-player? The poor fellow, knowing what a rugged Blade he was, replies with all humility, that it was not he. And who was it then, you Cuckold Squire, added he? He durst not accuse la Rappiniere to his face, but he himself, who was the most insolent person in the World, rising a little out of his Chair, said, It was I, what have you to say to me? That you are a Sot, replied the other, giving him an unmerciful rap over the Pate with his Racket. La Rappiniere was so amazed with his being prevented by this blow, which was the advantage he ever used to take of others, that he remained immovable, either out of admiration, or because he was not yet heated enough in his Harness; for he could not be easily provoked to venture his Carcase, though it were only at Cuffs; and perhaps the Quarrel had ended there, if his Man, who had more spirit than the Master, had not fallen upon the Assailant with a smart blow on his face attended with all its circumstances, and followed it at random with a number of others. La Rappiniere set upon him in the Rear, and began to belabour him with all his might, as being most concerned: A Kinsman of his Adversaries flies on la Rappiniere, after the same manner, he was engaged by a friend of la Rappinieres to make a diversion; this last was assaulted by another, and he by another likewise: In the end, all in the Chamber were engaged, one swore, the other railed, and all scuffled bravely: The Woman of the house finding her householdstuff going to wrack, filled the Air with her pitiful out-cries; to say the truth, they were all in danger of perishing with flinging of Chairs, and Forms, and giving Kicks and Cuffs, if some of the Magistrates of the Town, who were passing by with the Sheriff, had not come up at the Alarm. Some were of opinion to throw two or three Pales of Water among them, to cool their courage; and this remedy might perhaps have proved effectual, had they not parted out of pure lassitude: Besides that two, Father Capucins moved with charity came upon the spot, and made, not a firm peace, but a kind of Truce, in which interim they might treat without prejudice taking an account of either party. This Player Destiny behaved himself so stoutly ●t Fifty-cuffs, that the Fame of his Prowess remains yet fresh in the memory of those Citizens', according to the report of the two young Hectors, Authors of the Quarrel, with whom he was particularly engaged, and so shrewdly banged, as he did many others, that they were quickly forced to leave the Field. He lost the Plaster from his face during the Skirmish, which discovered a face, as handsome as the shape of his body. The bloody muzles were washed with cold water, the torn bands were changed, some at a plasmes were applied, the rend clothes were stitched up, the householdstuff marshaled in due place, but not altogether so whole as in the beginning of the Fray. In fine, some moments after there remained no signs of any Combat, but only a little animosity was legible in their countenances. The poor Players went out a good while after with la Rappiniere, who would needs have the last word: As they went cross the Market, they were surrounded by seven or eight Bravoes, with Weapons in hand; le Rappiniere as he was wont, grew very fearful, and had found cause form, had not Destiny most generously interposed and put by a Thrust which had run thorough him; which nevertheless he could not so absolutely avoid, but he received a sleight wound in his Arm: He drew his Sword upon this, and in a very short time, forced two of theirs out of their hands, opened one or two of their Skulls, sliced their Ears, and so Nobly defeated the Ambuscade of these Monsieurs, that all the Spectators protested they never saw so valiant a Champion. This routed Party, was set on la Rappiniere by two young Gallants; one whereof had married his Sister, who began the Fray with his Racket: And it is very probable la Rappiniere had been spoiled, had not fortune raised him this valiant Comedian for Desendour. This good turn somewhat softened his stony heart; so that not enduring this poor scattered Remnant of a broken Company should be forced to quarter at an Inn, he invited them to his own house, where the Carter unloaded their Player's trumpery, and returned back to his native Village.   

CHAP. IU.  
In which is contined the relation of Mr. lafoy Rappiniere, with what happened in his House at that Night.  
MIstress lafoy Rappiniere received the Company with great civility, being a woman that submitted herself more freely than any other; she was not ugly, though so lean and dry, that she never snuffed a Candle with her finger's end, but they took fire: I could relate a hundred rare stories, which I omit, as being too prolix. In half an hour the two women were so well acquainted, that they had no other Title, but my Dearest, and my Joy, at every turn. La Rappiniere, who was as full of vainglory, as any finical Barber in the town, bid them at his first coming home, repair to the Kitchen and Larder, and charge the Officers to hasten Supper. This was a pure Rodomontado, for besides an ancient Groom that kept his Horse, he had no other servants but a young wench, and an old hobbling Chair-woman as sickly as a decayed Bitch. But his pride had a fall, by an accident that befell him: He ordinarily eaten at the Inns upon other Prodigal young fools charges, and his Family at home so well regulated, they were reduced to Cabbige, and Pottage according to the custom of the Country; desiring to appear like some body before his Guests, and regale them with extraordinaries, he thought to have conveyed some money to his man behind his back, wherewith to purchase a treat: But whether it were the servants, or the Master's fault, I know not how, the money falls gingling down upon the arm of his Chair where he sat, and from thence to the ground; lafoy Rappiniere looked very blue upon it, his Wife blushed, Rancour did not mind it, the servant swore, and Cave smiled; but as for Destiny, I cannot now tell what effect it wrought upon his spirit. Well— the money was gathered up again, and whilst the Supper was providing, they entered into conversation. La Rappiniere asked Destiny wherefore he disguised his face with a Plaster: He told him there was Reason enough, for being accidentally forced to make his escape in those uncouth clothes, he was willing to hid his face from the knowledge of his Enemies, by keeping it under that cloud. In the end, the Supper, such as it was, came in; lafoy Rappiniere drunk till he was fuddled, and Rancour was up to the Hilts in the blood of Pacchus; Destiny eat very soberly like a temperate man, Cave like a famished Player, and Mistress lafoy Rappiniere as a woman that took advantage of the present opportunity; that is to say, till she was overgorged. Whilst afterwards the servants were feeding, and the beds making ready, lafoy Rappiniere tired them with a thousand frivolous stories. Destiny lay alone in a little private Chamber, Cave with the young Wench in a by-closer, and Rancour I know not where, with the servingman. They had all a great mind to sleep, some for weariness, the other with repletion; and yet they slept but very little, so uncertain is every thing in this world. After her first slumber, Mistress la Rappiniere had a mind to do that which no body could do for her, her Husband waked immediately after she was gone, though he were sufficiently drunk still, and finding he was left alone he called his Wife, but was not answered; this bred a jealousy, his jealousy made him mad, and this madness made him rise in an instant. Going out of his Chamber, he hears something trampling just before him; a while he steals after it: And in the midst of a little Entry, that led to Destiny's Chamber, he found himself so near the Party he traced, that he was ready to tread on the heels of it; he thought to lay hands upon his Wife, and seizeth upon it crying out, Ah you Whore! But he grasped nothing but Air; while his feet meeting a stumbling-block, down comes he with his Nose on the floor, where some sharp thing punched his breast so desperately; That he bawled out Murder! I am stabbed! still keeping hold of his Wives Lock, as he imagined, who was struggling to get away from underneath him. At his out-cries, curses and damnable oaths, all the house was in an uproar, and every one came to help him, just at the same moment; the maid servant with a Candle, Rancour and the old groom in their nasty shirts; Cave in a tattered morning coat; Destiny with his naked tool in hand, and Mistress De la Rappiniere appeared last of all, as much amazed as the rest, to behold her husband wrestling with a Goat, who suckled a litter of young Dog whelps in the house, whose Bitch-mother died in Labour. Never was mortal man so ashamed as La Rappiniere; His Wife mistrusting the Jealousy of his cracked brain, asked him, if he had lost his Wits? He answered at randum, not knowing indeed what he said; that he took the Goat for a Thief. Destiny soon smelled the business; Every one returned to their Beds, and believed what their own fancy suggested of the adventure, and the Goat was locked up again with the Whelps.   

CHAP. V.  
Which contains no great Matter.  
RAncour the Comedian, one of the principal Hero's of our Romance, (for we shall have more than one in this Book) and since nothing is more complete than a Romantique Hero, half a Dozen at least, or such as shall lay claim to that Title, shall render mine more accomplished then a single one can do, who perhaps is seldomest mentioned, there being nothing but right and wrong in this World. This Rancour then, was one of those Misanthropes that hated every one else, and scarce loved themselves: and I have been told by many that they never saw him laugh. He had wit enough, and made ill Rhyms well enough, otherwise a man of courage in some degree, as malicious as an old Ape, and envious as a Dog; He found some fault with every one of his profession, Relleroze was too affected, Mondory starched and stiff, Floridor bashful, and so forwards; nay, I believe he would have had it thought himself was the only complete Actor, though in truth, they had not kept him then in the Company, but only because he had served a double apprenticeship in the Trade. In those times when they were confined ro H—s Plays, he imitated, a woman● voice, and acted sometimes a Nurses or Midwife part behind a vizard: but afterwards when the Stage advanced to higher perfection, he played sometimes the Constable's Deputy, or a Confident, an Ambassador, or Herald, when any Warlike or Tragical business was the Theme, or made up one at the lewd singing of a Drunken catch, sometimes appearing with a Mealy Visage to carry on a merry farce. With these plausible Talents he laid the foundation of insupportable pride, which being accompanied with his perpetual raillery, eternal backbiting, and a quarrelsome humour, sometimes carried on with a little flashy valour, made him somewhat feared by his associates; only to Destiny he was quiet as a Lamb, and behaved himself as rationally as his nature would suffer him. Some would say that he had been cudgeled, but that report quickly vanished, as well as the other of his being so greedy of Money as to pad for it, but for all this, we must allow him to be as honest a man as lived. I related, as I remember, that he was lodged with La Rappinieres servant, whose name was Doguin; whether the bed were not easy enough, or whether Doguin were no good bedfellow, I know not, but he could not sleep all the night. He rose at break of day, as well as Doguin who was called for by his master, and passing along near La Rappinieres Chamber, he bade him good morrow; Lafoy Rappiniere received his compliment with the haughtiness of a Provincial Provost, not returning him the tithe of his civilities, but he being used to Act all sorts of humours took little notice of it. La Rappiniere started a thousand frivolous questions concerning Plays, and from one thing to another, at length came to mention Destiny, ask how long he had been of the Company, and withal protested he was an Excellent Actor; All is not gold that glisters, replies Rancour; he acted but Pages parts, when I was the Chiefest, and how can he be perfect in a Trade he never learned? Players do not spring up like Mushrooms; because he is young you are taken with him, if you knew him as thoroughly as I do, you would set a less value by half upon him: besides, he takes upon him as if he were extracted from a Rib of St. Lewis, but never discovers who he ●s, nor whence, no more than the fair Cloris ●is companion, whom he calls his Sister, and ●od grant she be no worse. As mean as I seem ●o be, I saved his life at Paris at the price of too good cuts with a sword, when he showed himself so ingrateful; As, in stead of following ●e when I was carried betwixt four to a Surgeons, he went searching about the dirty greets all night long after a bauble of Diamonds, which I believe were but counterfeit, ●hom those that set upon us, took away from ●im as he pretended. La Rapiniere, demanded 〈◊〉 Rancour how that accident fell upon them: 〈◊〉 was, replied he, upon Twelfth Night, on the ●ew-bridg. These words much discomposed ●●th La Rappiniere and his man Doguin; they ●●ok'd pale, and then blushed both in an in●nt; and La Rappiniere shifted that discourse 〈◊〉 abruptly and suddenly, as made Rancour ●uch admire.  
The Hangman of the Town and some Halberteers, coming into the Chamber, broke off their conversation, and did Rancour a courtesy, who plainly perceived that he had touched Rappiniere to the quick, though he could not possibly apprehend why he should be concerned. In the mean time, poor Destiny, that had been the subject of their discourse, was much troubled; Rancour found him with Mistress Cave swearing at an old Butcher that he had ill understood and worse fashioned the work they gave him to do. The subject of their difference was, that unloading their Comical Baggage, Destiny found two Doublets and one pair of Breeches very much worn, which he delivered to this old Tailor, to get out of them a suit of , somewhat more A-la-mode, than the Pages Trunks he wore; and the Tailor instead of making use of one Doublet to mend the other, and the Breeches, had, unbecoming the judgement of a man that had translated  all his life time with the best part of the Breeches mended up the two Doublets, so that poor Destiny with so many Doublets and so few Breeches, was constrained to keep his Chamber, or expose himself to the Laughter of the Boys in the streets, as h● had done before in his Player's habit. Rappinieres liberality repaired the Tailor's fault, wh● took the two mended Doublets, and gave. Destiny a suit of a fellows that had been lately broken on the wheel: The Executioner who w● present, and had left those  in the keeping of Rappinier's maid, most insolently challenged the  as his own, but Rappiniere threatened to make him lose his Office; The suit fitted Destiny passing well, who went abroad with La Rappiniere and Rancour; They Dined at a Tavern at a Citizen's cost who had some business with La Rappiniere. Madam Cave busied herself about Starching her fowl Gorget, and so kept company with her Landlady. The same day Doguin was met with by one of the young men whom he had beaten the day before at the Tennis Court, and returned home, with two good cuts over the pate, and infinite bastonadoes; and because he was so much wounded, Rancour after supper went to lie at the next Inn, very much tired with trotting so much about the Town, in company of Destiny and La Rappiniere, who would needs have satisfaction for thus misusing his Servant.   

CHAP. VI  
The accident of the Chamber-Pot, the troublesome Nigh Rancour gave the Inn: The Arrival of part of the Player's Company. The Death of Doguin, and other remarkable passages.  
RAncour came to the Inn little better than half drunk. Mrs. Rappinier's Maid who conducted him, desired the Hostess to have a bed made for him: A great purchase indeed, said the Landlady, if this be the best trade we must look for, good buoy Landlord; i' faith you must seek your Rent elsewhere: Hold your peace you Sot, replied her Husband, Monsieur de la Rappiniere, does us too much Honour; therefore provide the Gentleman a bed quickly. Marry come up, quoth she, but you must know where to find one first, there was but one to spare, and that is just now taken up by a good Merchant: The Merchant came in just at the nick of time, and having understood the cause of their Quarrel, proffered Rancour part of his bed; whether it were that he had business with la Rappiniere, or that he were naturally obliging, for which Rancour gave him as many thanks as his barren civility could afford. The Merchant supped, mine Host kept him company, and Rancour was easily entreated to make up a third, and took off his Cups roundly at another man's cost. They discoursed of Taxes, railed against Excise-men, and undertook to govern the Kingdom, but were so ill Governors over themselves, and especially mine Host, that he draws out his Purse, and calls for the Reckoning, forgetting he was eating Oats at his own Manger; his Wife and her Maid seeing him in this pickle, pulled him out by head and shoulders, and clapped him on a bed in his clothes Rancour told the Merchant he was much troubled with a difficulty of making water, and wa● therefore very sorry he should be forced to disturb him; to which the Merchant replied, tha● a Night was soon over. The bed stood in a corner of the Chamber, with one side close to the Wall; Rancour gets in first, and takes up the further side, and the Merchant having laid himself outermost, Rancour desires he would help him to the Chamber-pot: And what do you intent to do with it, says the Merchant? I must contrive some way to set it by me, replies Rancour, for fear of troubling you too often in the N●ght: The Merchant freely proffered to reach it to him, upon all occasions; to which Rancour seemed but unwillingly to consent, protesting it would grieve him to the heart to disturb him so much; the Merchant fell asleep before he could make answer, and he was scarce thoroughly so, but the malicious Player, who was of such a damned humour, he would willingly lose an eye of his own, to put out another man's, pulled the poor Merchant by the arm, crying out, Sir, O dear Sir: The Merchant not quite awake, asked him yawning, what is't you desire? Pray give me the Pot a little, said Rancour; the other reache● to the Flore, and taking it up, gives it into Rancours hands, who seemingly strove to piss, and after a hundred proffers and trials, and as many oaths and mutterings between his teeth, not forgetting to bemoan and bewail himself, he returns the Pot to the Merchant, without one drop in it; The Merchant sets it down in its place again, and gaping as wide as an oven for want of sleep, truly Sir, said he; I pity you very much, and immediately fell into a sound sleep again. Rancour lets him sleep on a pretty while, and when he heard him begin to snore as hearty, as if he had done nothing else all his life time; the perfidious Rascal wakens him again, and calls for the Chamber pot as maliciously as he did the time before. The Merchant gives it him as orderly as at first; Rancour holds it to the place out of which we use to piss, but with as little design to piss, as to let the Merchant rest in quiet: he cries out louder than before, and was twice as long not pissing, conjuring the Merchant not to trouble himself any more with reaching the Pot, telling him it was unreasonable, and he would make a shift to do it well enough himself: The poor man, who would at that time have given half his estate to have fetched out his sleep, drouzily told him, he might do as he pleased; and set the pot down again. They bid each other good night very civilly, and the poor Merchant would have ventured a good wager, that he should now sleep as quietly as ever he did in his life: Rancour who knew what would happen, lets him fairly engage himself a while to a most sweet repose, and making no conscience of waking him, he lays his sharp elbow just upon the pit of his stomach, and throwing his whole body forwards, stretches his arm out of the bed, as we use to do to take up any thing from the bedside; The Unfortunate Merchant start up awake, feeling himself almost stifled and pressed to death, crying out horribly with an oath, O Sir you kill me! Rancour replies with as much softness, as the other spoke with passion: I beg your pardon, I was only going to reach the Pot. Ah! cried the other, I had rather watched the whole night and given it you myself, for you have done that to me, which I shall carry to my Grave. Rancour made him no answer, but pissed so copiously, and with so much strength, that this noise alone had been sufficient to have awaked the Merchant. He filled the Pot up to the brim, blessing god with a Phanitical Hypocrisy: The poor Merchant congratulated as well as he could the emptying of his bladder, and plentiful ejaculation of Urine, which made him promise himself an uninterrupted sleep, when the cursed Rancour making as if he would set down the pot again, let both it and the piss fall down upon the gentleman's Face, Beard, and Breast, crying out, Alas! Sir, I entreat your pardon; The Merchant made no return to his civility, for as soon as he felt himself pickled in that liquor, he risen up howling like a Fury, and bawling for a Candle. Rancour with a most cunning calmness, said, faith this is an unlucky accident; but the Merchant continued his clamours. The Host, Hostess, Tapsters and Chambermaids, took the Alarm and came to them, the Merchant telling them they had brought him the Devil for a bedfellow, called for a fire in another Room. They demanded what he ailed, but his anger was so unexpressible he gave no reply, but caught up his  and Portmanteau, and went into the Kitchen to dry himself, where he slept out the rest of the night on a bench by the fireside: The Master of the House enquired of Rancour what the matter was, who told him with a counterfeit ingenuity: I cannot imagine what reason he should have to complain: but he started out of his sleep, and waked me at the same time with a hideous outcry of murder, so that either some fearful dream disturbed him, or else he must needs be distracted, for he hath be-pissed the bed till it is all on float again; the good woman felt the bed with her hand, and found it so true, that she swore by her maker she would make him pay for his nastiness: They wished Rancour a good night, who slept as quietly till morning, as if he had had the clearest conscience in the world and so recruited himself of the disturbance his Carcase had met with the precedent night at Rappinieres: He was roused somewhat earlier though then he intended, Rappinieres maid, calling him up in great haste, to come and speak with Doguin who was dying, and desired to see him before he left the world: He went not without some trouble, being puzzled to guests what might be the occasion of this fellows sending for him at such a time, having had no acquaintance with him but the day before. But it proved only a mistake of the maids, who hearing him inquire for the player, went for Rancour instead of Destiny; who was just come into Doguins' chamber before Rancour arrived, and had shut himself up with the Priest that had confessed him, who had informed Destiny that the sick party had something that concerned him to discover to him. He had not been thus in private with Doguin above the eighth part of an hour, but Lafoy Rappiniere returned home from the City, where he had been ever since break of day about business: At his coming he was informed his man was dying, it being impossible to staunch his blood, by reason a great vessel was cut asunder, and that he had requested to speak with Destiny the Comedian before his senses left him; And hath he been with him? demanded La Rappin●re somewhat started; Answer was given, that they were locked up together in private. He was thunder struck at these words, and running to the Chamber door in a fury bounced at the door, where Doguin was giving up the Ghost, just as Destiny opened it to call some body to help the dying man then fallen into a trance- La Rappiniere asked him with a troubled countenance, what his foolish servant had to say to him; I believe he raves, replied Destiny very coldly, for he begged a thousand pardons of me, and I never knew he had in the least offended; but pray let some body be called to his assistance, for he is just dying; they went to his bed side where he was gasping his last, which made La Rappiniere put on a more confident look then at his first approach; Those that were not strangers to his temper thought it was only because, he perhaps owed him wages which would now be saved: But Destiny knew a more prevalent reason. Presently after two other persons came to the house, who were welcome to our Player as being of the same company, of whom we shall discourse more amply in the ensuing.   

CHAP. VII.  
The Adventure of the Hors-Litters.  
THe Youngest of the Players that came to la Rappinieres house, was a servant to Destiny, who gave him notice, that the residue of the company were all arrived, excepting only Madam Star, who had put her foot out of joint, within three Leagues of Manse. How came you hither? or who gave you information we were in this place? said Destiny. The Plague raging at Alenson prevented our going that way, and made us halt at Bonestable, replied the other Player, whose name was Olive, where some Inhabitants of this town told us you had been beaten, and were wounded; at which Madam Star is much troubled, and entreats you to send her a Horslitter. The Master of the next Inn who was come to Rappiniere's house upon the report of Doguins' death, said he had a Litter, which if they would give him his price, he would make ready with a couple of Horses and dispatch it away by noon. The Players hired the Litter for a Crown, and took up lodgings for the company at his house. De la Rappiniere undertook to procure them a Licence from the Lieutenant General to Act, and about noon Destiny and his companions took their way towards Bonestable. It was excessive hot weather, Rancour slept in the Horselitter, Olive Road on the hinder Horse, and mine Hosts man lead the foremost, Destiny walked on foot, with his Fowling-peece upon his shoulder, his man relating to him all that had happened to them, from the Castle on the Loire till they came to the Village of Bonestable, where Madam Star alighting from her Horse had wrenched her foot. As they were thus trudging along two men very well mounted, with their Cloaks thrown over their Faces passing along by Destiny, drew near to the horselitter, on the side which was open, and finding only an old fellow a sleep in it, he that was the best mounted of the two, said to his comrade; I think all the Devils in Hell are let lose to day, and are crept into these damned Litters to make me mad. Having so said, he pricked his horse, and rod cross the fields and the other after him. Olive called to Destiny who was a little distant, and told him the adventure, which he could not apprehend, and was therefore hugely troubled to conceive what it should mean. About a quarter of a League thence, the fellow that guided the litter, being somewhat dozed with the heat of the scorching Sun, plants me the Horselitter in a deep miry way, where Rancour had well nigh been toppled in, the horses tore their harness, and were forced to be drawn forth by head and tail after they were un-tackled. They gathered up the ruins of this wrack, and crawled on to the next Village as well as they could. The Harness wanted much reparation: whilst they were patching it up again, Olive, Rancour, and Destiny's servingman drank a pot or two at an Inn door in the said Village: In the interim comes a second Horselitter, carried by two lusty fellows, who made a halt likewise before the same Inn: and hardly was this set down, but a third appears about a hundred paces in the rear, coming on the same way; I believe said Rancour, all the Horse-Litters in the Country have appointed their Rendez-vous hear for a general Muster, or some business of great importance; I think they had best to begin their conference and consultation, for there is no likelihood of any more coming now. Nay, but here is one more that will not be out of play, says the Hostess; and indeed, they saw a fourth which with a great deal o● expedition came from Manse. At this all the company laughed hearty, except Rancour, who never was seen to laugh as I told you before. This last Litter made a stop and stood in rank and file with the first body; It was very stranger to see so many Litters together; If those Litter-Hunters, that were so curious to search us, were now here, said the conductor of the first Litter, they might abundantly satisfy their humour. I met with the like persons replied the second, who looked very narrowly into my Litter; and so did I, said the third; and the last swore he had like to have been beaten by them. And wherefore, said Destiny. Because, replied he, they miss a Gentlewoman that had strained her Ankle, whom we had newly left at Manse; never met with such choleric people in my days, they were m●d with me, because they had ●●pt their Prey. This made the Players prick ●p their ears, and after two or three interrogatories they discovered, that the Gentleman's ●ife, who was chief of the Village, where Madam Star alighted and hurt her foot, had out of Charity given her a visit being a stranger of no ordinary Mien, and sent her in a Litter to Manse ●ith all the care imaginable. The discourse ●mongst the Litter-men lasted some time, and ●hey gathered from one another, that those were ●he same persons that had looked into all the several Litters. The first Litter carried the Custe of Domfront, who came from the Waters at ●●llesme, and was passing into Manse to have a Consultation of Physicians. The second had ●n it a wounded Officer that was sent from the ●irmy. The Litters parted and went their several ways; the Curates and the Players to ●anse, the others a different road. The sick Curate alighted at the same Inn with the Comedians, where we shall leave him at rest in his own Chamber, and tell you what passed in the Players, in the following Chapter.   

CHAP. VIII.  
In which you may read many things very necessary to be known, for the better understanding of this Book.  
THe Comical Company consisted of Destiny Olive, and Rancour, who had each of the● a servant, that aspired in time to be whole sharers or masters of the Troop. Amongst these some there were that could rehearse already without blushing, and come off reasonable well amongst the rest he that served Destiny was apt understood what he said, and had no little wi●● Madam Star, and Madam Caves daughter acted most commonly the best of the women's parts Cave herself played the Queen, an old Midwife or some such like person in a Farce. They ha● besides these a Poet, or rather an Author, wh● was very generally known, for never a Groce or Mercer's shop in the Kingdom wanted his was● paper to wrap up their spices and silks, both in Verse and Prose. This pregnant wit had gotten in amongst them, almost whether they would or not, but because he had no share at all and spent some of his own coin amongst them they suffered him sometimes to act one of th● slightest parts, which he did very scurvily. They perceived plain enough he was in love with on● of the Females; But yet was he so crafty, though more Fool than Politician, that they could not certainly know which of the two he would seduce, with his hopes of Fame and Immortality. He threatened the Actors with a number of Plays of his own composing. But till now had mercifully spared them: Only they conjectured that he was conjuring up of one, under the Title of Martin Luther, of which they had found some lose fragments, which nevertheless he discovered though it were of his own scribbling. When our Players were come together in a Chamber, most of the vagrant Town Butterflies flocked into their presence, amongst which some were unsatisfied at their cold reception. They all began to discourse of Plays, Poetry and renowned Authors of Romances: never was more noise made in any Chamber, unless at a Quarrel. And above all the rest, the Poet with a ring of admirers about him of the chiefest wits of the Town, was tearing his throat with telling them he had seen Corneille, had drunk many a quart with Saint Amant and Beys, and lost a good friend by the death of Rotrou. Madam Cave, and Madam Angellica her daughter, were laying their  in order, with as little concern as if no body had been in the room. Angelica's hands were sometimes squeezed or kissed, for those Country gentlemen are great fumblers and slabberers; But she quickly found the way to be delivered from the persecution by a timely kick on their shins, a cuff, or a bite according as the present necessity required. It was not out of any rudness or want of breeding, but her free jovial humour, waved all nice ceremony; though she were otherwise very discreet, and of a fair deportment in civil society. Madam Star was of a quite contrary temper, the world yields not a modester girl, or of a milder nature, and so great was her complaisance that she had not the power to free herself from that impertinent crew, though she endured a great deal of pain by her sore leg, and wanted a little more rest after her joging journey. She lay on the bed in her , besieged by four or five of the most finical Gallants, who had no more wit but to laugh at their own clinches, which made her sometimes smile at them, whereas they guessed she was taken with their dry jests: And indeed, amongst other inconveniencies belonging to that profession, besides the being forced sometimes to laugh when they could rather weep, it is none of the least to be obliged to comply with every new vampt gentleman, as Players are wont to do, and to be treated sometimes like Queens and Empresses, and a moment after used like Kitchen-maids, to be called fair and beautiful, young and sprightly, when perhaps their tougues that proclaim it, are the only painters that make them so, unless sometimes they get a recruit of new Teeth, Periwigs and Pomatums that can hid their own defects under these auxiliary Adornments. More might be added on this Theme; but we must wisely husband and manage these Subjects, and reserve a little for some other places to embellish and diversify our Romance the better. Let us return to poor Madam Star, thronged with her Country Gallants, the least pleasant and most prating persons in the whole world, amongst whom there were some newly hopped out of the University. Besides these there was a little Widower invaded her, a Counsellor by profession, who had 〈◊〉 small Office, in a petty Court not far from thence; Ever since the death of his Spouse, he had threatened the women of the Town with his Marriage, the Clergy with his turning Priest, ●nd the rest of those holy brethren with his design of making himself an eminent Prelate by, ●he power of his eloquent Sermons. This was ●he greatest little fool that hath appeared in the ●orld since Roland's time. He had been a stu●ent all his time, and though learning be the tidiest way to lead men to the knowledge of the ●●uth, yet would he lie like a Court Page, was ●proud and opiniastre as a Pedant, and a Poet ●hat deserved to be pressed to death with his own ●orks, were there any law for it in the Country. ●hen Destiny and Olive came into the Chamber, ●●e proffers, before either of them knew in the ●ast what he was, to read a piece of his own imposing; Entitled, The Acts and Gests of Char●main in Four and Twenty Journadas. This ●ade all their hair stand an end, but Destiny ●ho had not lost all his prudence in the crowd, ●hich so frighted the rest, smiling, told him, ●ere was no possibility to hear him before supper. Well then, says he, I will repeat a story ●●en out of a Spanish Author sent me from Pa●●●, which I intent to frame into a Comedy according to the modern rules. They fell upon other Discourse once or twice, to avoid a History, which they guessed would be nonsensically tedious; but the little fellow would not be so put off, and beginning a fresh as often as they interrupted him, they were at last tired to an attention, which they repent not, because it proved good, and contradicted the opinion was conceived, that nothing of any value could proceed from Ragotin, which was the Historians Name. This History I shall give you in the next Chapter, not just so as Ragotin related it but as I might have heard it from one that was present. It is not therefore Ragotin that speaks, but I myself.   

CHAP. IX.  
The History of the Invisible Lover.  
Done Carlos of Arragon was a young Gentleman of the Family that bare that Name● He acted Miracles in his own person at thos● public solemnities which the Viceroy appointed for the marriage of Philip the Second, Third or Fourth, I know not well which. The nex● day after a course at the Ring, where he reape● all the honour, the Viceroy permitted the La● dies to go about the City disguised, after th● mode of the French Mascarades, for the great●● conveniency of the many strangers, who flocked thither to Celebrate those Royal Nuptial That day Don Carlos dressed himself to the best advantage he could possibly, and with a multitude of the like Tyrants of Hearts, went to the great Church, the Rendez-vous of all their gallantry. Now in those Countries they scruple as little to profane their Church as we do ours, and that place which is ordained for a Holy Temple, becomes a den of Amorous Thiefs and prattling Gossips, where their zeal is turned into lust, their Religion into Courtship, and their grace into wantonness. Methinks they should take a Severe order to reform these enormous scandals, and provide some such Officer to expel these wantoness, as they do dog-whippers elsewhere, they being the more unclean beasts of the two. Perhaps some may ask me, wherefore I trouble myself with these things, but let such fools remember, that all men are fools a● well as liars in this world, some more, some less, and I that speak now, it may be, a verier fool than most others, though I am somewhat more ingenious in acknowledging it, and my book being only a Collection of fooleries, I hope every Fool, will in one part or other, find a brief, but true Character of himself, unless self love and a too fond opinion of his own wisdom keep him in blindness still. Don Carlos, as I said, to return to my story, was in a Church amongst a crowd of other Italian and Spanish Gentlemen, who strutted with great feathers in their Hats, ●ike so many Peacocks, when three Ladies masked accosted him in the midst of this Batta●loon of Lovers, one of which spoke these, or the like words to him. Signior Don Carlos, There is a Lady in this City, to whom you are highly Obliged; for in all your performances at Barriers and running at the Ring, she ever wished you might carry away all the Honour, as now it appears you have done. The greatest advantage I find in this, answered he, is, that I am told so by your Ladyship, who appear to be a person of merit; and truly, if I could reasonably have hoped that any worthy Lady would have done me so much honour; I should have struggled with more eagerness to have deserved her approbation. The concealed Lady told him, he had omitted nothing that might render him one of the most accomplished men she had seen, and she inferred from the White and Black Colours he wore, that he was not in Love. I never was so well read in Colours, as to understand their several significations, replied he, but I am certain it is not so much out of insensibility that I am not a Liver, as a just apprehension that I do not deserve to be beloved. They said a hundred more fine things, which 〈◊〉 forbear to repeat, because I do not exactly know them, and shall not undertake to invent for them, lest I should prejudice Don Carlos, and the unknown Lady, who had a greater stock o● wit than I, as it was told me by an honest Neapolitan acquainted with them both. But i● proceeded so far at last, that the disguised Lady confessed to Don Carlos, It was she had an inclination for him: He begged to see her unveiled she told him it was not come to that yet, but promised she would seek a fairer opportunity, and to a sure him, she did not fear to meet him singly, sh● gave him a Pawn, in earnest of her further Engagement; at which words she discovered the whitest hand in the world to the Spaniard, and presented a Ring to him, which he accepted, but with so much surprise at the adventure, that he almost forgot to pay her that respect was due to her at parting. The other Gentlemen who in civility had retired to a becoming distance, came again to him. He told them what had passed, and shown them the Ring she bestowed on him, which was of a considerable value. Whereupon every man gave his opinion, and Don Carlos was as much smitten with the unknown Lady, as if he had seen her face, so much dominion and influence hath another's wit, upon those that are endued with it themselves. Eight tedious days and more tedious nights did he linger out, without any news of this apparition; How he resented it I cannot certainly tell. But it was his daily custom to divert himself at the lodgings of a certain Captains of a Foot Company, where many persons of quality resorted to wear away the time at play. One night, in which he, not having played, retired himself more early than he used ordinarily to do; he was called by his name, from a lower Chamber of a great house; he drew near the wind over, and observed it was fenced with Iron grates, as that Country fashion is, and by the voice, discovered perfectly it was his Invisible Lady, who said to him, Come hither Don Carlos, I here wait for you, to make an end of that difference which is betwixt us. You are but a Trifler, replies Don Carlos, you defy with insolence, then hid your head a week together, and now play at boe peep behind a grate. We shall have a nearer meeting in good time, added she, it is not want of courage that makes we delay the encounter; but a desire to know you thoroughly, before I appear openly; You know in Duels, the parties meet with equal Arms, and if your heart were not as disengaged as mine, than would you fight with advantage, and therefore I resolved to be first well informed: And what have you discovered by your information? Said Don Carlos. That we may be a fit match for each other, replies the invisible Lady. Don Carlos answered betwixt jest and earnest, that there was no equality in that management; for says he, you see me, and know who I am, and I can neither see nor attain to any knowledge of you; What conjecture can I make of the care you take to conceal yourself? since those whose designs are fair and noble scorn to hid themselves; One that stands open without a guard as I do may easily be trappaned: But pray take notice Lady, I shall not be apt to fall twice in the same snare; If you make use of me only to create some jealousy in another, give me leave to tell you that I am no fit instrument for any sach purpose, therefore if I must serve you, it shall be only in loving you above the world or any other interest. Have you any more trivial doubts left to urge? says the Invisible. These are not trivial, replies he; know then, said she, that I am very real, and such you shall be sure to find me in all my proceed, as I would desire you to be: That is but just, said Don Carlos; But it is no less Just that I should see you, and be made happy by your name: You shall soon know that, replies the Invisible; In the mean while, let patience rule your hopes, for that is the way to deserve what you expect, while in the mean time, I shall assure you, that all this entertainment be not fruitless, that I am equal to you in quality, and have revenues enough to make you live at as high a rate as any Prince in the Kingdom, that I am young, rather handsome then ill favoured; and for wit I dou●t not but your own ingenuity can satisfy you whether I have any or not; Having said this, she immediately retired, leaving the Don with his mouth open ready to reply, but so surprised at the brisk declaration she had made of herself, and so charmed with the love of one he had never seen, that he was so perplexed at the strange manner of her proceed, which for aught he knew might end in some cheat; as he continued at least a quarter of an hour in the same place, making divers conjectures of this extraordinary adventure. He knew very well, that there were in Naples divers Princesses and Ladies of Quality; but he bethought himself likewise how many greedy Courtesans there were too, notable crafty, and catching after strangers, who were the more dangerous, because they are beautiful. I cannot exactly tell you, whether he had supped that night, or went to bed empty, as some Romance-mongers use to do, who regulate all their Hero's actions making them rise early, and tell on their begun story till dinner time, then dine lightly, and after meal, proceed in the discourse, or else retire to some shady Grove to talk by themselves, unless they have something to discover to the Rocks and Trees: Then at supper time, meet at the appointed Pointed place and time, where they sigh and sob instead of eating, and afterwards build Castles in the air on some Terrace which looks towards the sea, whilst the Squire in the interim reveals the secret, that his Master is such a one, the son of a certain King, and that there is not a braver Prince in the world, and though at present he is one of the comeliest creatures that ever was born, yet he was yet far more handsome, nay clean another thing, before love had disfigured him. But to return to my story, Don Carlos came the next day to his Post, and found the Invisible already at hers; She asked him whether he was not very much perplexed at their last conversation, and whether in truth he were not in a kind of doubt of every thing she told him. Don Carlos, not making any answer to these questions, beseeched her to tell him, what danger could accrue by discovering herself, since the parties were equal, and their Courtship tended to the same end on either side, which the whole world could not but approve: There is danger enough, as you shall Jully know in due time replied the Invisible, therefore once more let me desire you to believe I am real, and have kept myself within bounds in the relation I made you of myself. Don Carlos pressed her no farther in that particular; their discourse continued a good while, and they both took deeper and stronger impressions of love towards each other, than they had done before, parting with hearty promises of a continuance of their affection, and a daily meeting at the place assigned. The day following there was a grand Ball at the Vice-Roys; Don Carlos hoped to discover his Lady there; and in the mean while, endeavoured to make enquiry whose house that was, where he had such a favourable audience. He was informed that the house was an old Gentlewomans that lived very retired, the Widow of a Spanish Captain, who had neither Daughters nor Niece. He entreated to speak with her, she returned him an answer, That since the death of her Husband she admitted no visits, which put him into a greater labyrinth than before.  
But he puts on a gallant resolution, and at night was at the Vice-Roys Bal, where you may imagine there was a brave appearance. Don Carlos took exact notice of all the Ladies in the presence, to judge which might be his unknown Mistress. He made his Address to all those, he could conveniently talk with, but found it labour lost: At last he applied himself to the Daughter of a Marquis, of I know not what Marquisate, as they say, (for it is that of all things in the world I should least swear for, especially now every one is a Marquis, at lest Entitles himself so;) She was both young and beautiful, and had somewhat the tone of her voice whom he hunted for: but at the long run, he found so little resemblance in the behaviour, and wit of this Lady, and his invisible Lover, that he repent he had made so great a progress in his Courtship with this Lady, as might without flattery give him some claim to her favour. They often danced together, and the Bal being ended, with very little satisfaction to Don Carlos; he parted from his Captive, who was not a little proud that she alone had enjoyed in that Glorious Assembly, the conversation of a Person, that was the envy of all other men for his gallantry, and the highliest Esteemed of all Women. From the Bal he returned hastily to his own lodging to take his Sword, and from thence to the Fatal Grate, which was not far distant. His Lady was at the place before him, who asked him what news of the Bal, though she herself had been there: He told her ingeniously, that he had danced many times with a very beautiful person, and had entertained her all the time the Bal lasted. Whereupon she made several doubtful questions, which plainly betrayed a kind of jealousy. Don Carlos made her know, that he had some scruple likewise, for her not appearing at the Bal, which made him a little suspicious, whether she were of the quality she had pretended: She discovers it, and to satisfy him, she makes use of all her charms, became very complaisant, and shown him as much favour as could be expressed in communication thorough a Grate, even so far as to assure him, she would be shortly visible. Hereupon they take leave of each other, he much in doubt whether he should credit her or no, and she a little stung with jealousy, for his having so assiduously kept company with the fair Lady all the while the Bal lasted. The next day Don Carlos going to hear Mass, in I know not what Church, proffered the Holy Water to a couple of Ladies that were veiled, who were reaching for some at the same instant; the best clothed of the two, told him, She would not put, him to that trouble, but had a secret to reveal to him at a convenient time. Unless y●●r hast be too pressing, replies he, it will be the greater obligation if you please to imform me now. Pray follow me into the next Chapel then, said she. Thither goes she before, and Don Carlos would not stay long behind, his heart wavering betwixt fear and hope, whether he should find this to be his own Mistress or not, finding her much of the same stature, but withal somewhat differing in her speech and accent, this seeming to have an affected lisping pronunciation: being come together in the Chapel, and the door closed, she addresses herself thus to him; The whole City of Naples, Signior Don Carlos rings of the Fame and Reputation you have gained during the short time of your abode here; so that you are justly esteemed one of the Gallantest Persons of this Age: Nor have they any thing to object, unless it be your so nice retiring of yourself from all Great Companies, especially the choicest of our Sex, who nevertheless have a most particular esteem and respect for you; This they have testified as far as the rules of discretion and modesty would allow, and though they hearty desire you would believe as much, yet if it cannot gain upon you, it is wished the little notice you take may proceed rather from insensibility, than disdain, or a pre-ingagement. Amongst the nest, there is a Lady a friend of mine, who makes your interest so much her own, that she would needs make this discovery to you, what ever it may produce; which is to let you know, that your night adventures are not so closely managed, but they lie open to discovery, and which is more, that you therein engage yourself somewhat imprudently by setting your affection upon a thing you do not know, which you may guests to be unworthy any further pursuit, since her so close concealment does but infer that either she loves ignobly, or knows herself unfit to be beloved. It is above all dispute, that your contemplative desires aim at a Lady of a more than vulgar quality and spirit, and fancies a Mistress deserving adoration: But Signior Don Carlos, do not prefer your fancy to your judgement, but consulting with both together, beware of such a one as hides herself, and wisely forbear any further nocturnal engagements. And why should I dissemble any longer? No Sir, I will not, but do most freely confess, that I am the party thus jealous of your Fantome or Nightly Apparition, holding it very strange that you should run thus fond after a shadow, and since I have adventured to make this Declaration of my own weakness, I shall take the confidence to add this to it, I am resolved to defeat all her ambushes, and gain the Victory which is more my due, since I am not inferior to her, either in Beauty, Birth, or Fortune, nor any other quality that carries aught of an honest temptation with it; Therefore if you have that ingenuity the World reports, make the best use of this my present Counsel. Having said this, she went away, before Don Carlos could have the time to recollect his amazed spirits, and shape an answer. He would have followed, but was stopped at the Church door, by an eminent Gentleman, who kept him there a good space in discourse, which he could no way avoid. The rest of the day he wasted in admiration of what happened, and at first his thoughts persuaded him it was the same Lady he met at the Bal, that made this discovery to him, but then reflecting on this Lady's wit, and the others want of it, he knew not where to fix his belief, and could have almost wished he were disengaged from his obscure Mistress, to resign himself entirely up to this new one: Yet then considering again, he was as far from knowing the last as the first, whose charming conversation had wholly enchained him, he resolved on his former choice, not valuing her threatening speeches to obstruct him, as not being a person of so poor and grovelling a spirit to be frighted from any thing he once designed. The same night he failed not to appear at the Grate, at his assigned hour, nor did four men, who lay in wait for him, fail to cease on him in the midst of his discourse, who soon disarmed and lifted him into a Coach, that attended at the turning of the next street. Now must I leave you to imagine what language and reproaches he bestowed on those disguised fellows that thus took him at so much disadvantage; and when that heat could do no good, than he endeavoured to bribe them with large promises: but instead of persuading them, all he could do, rather made them the more resolute, and wary lest he should escape, which they performed so effectually, as took away all hope of gaining his liberty, either by his entreaties or courage. Mean time the Coach rolled away as fast as four Fleet Horses could hurry it; Out of Town they got, and about an hour after they brought him into a very sumptuous building, the outward Gate standing ready open to receive him, where the four Mascarades alighted with Don Carlos, and taking him under the arms, led him like an Ambassador to his Audience before the Grand Signior, they conducted him up one pair of stairs with the same Ceremony, where two Masked Ladies received him at the Dining-room door with lights in their hands. The men left him there at liberty, and withdrew, after they had most humbly saluted him. It is likely they left neither Sword nor Pistol with him, for which over great care, no doubt, he gave them many thanks, and yet perhaps he might forget it too; not but he was highly civi●, but a man so strangely surprised as he must needs have been, is pardonable if he omit those Ceremonies. Neither can I tell you whether the Candlesticks the two Women held were of Silver or not, but this I must assure you, they were large, and A la Mode, and the Dining-room most Magnificent, and if you please, as well furnished as some of those Apartments in our Modern Romances, (viz.) Zelmanda's Ship in Polexander, Ibrahims' Palace in the Illustrious Bassa, or the Chamber where the King of Syria treated Mandane in the Grand Cyrus, which not to disparage those other I mentioned, is without doubt, one of the most magnificently furnished Books in the World: you may guests therefore whether our Spaniard was not hugely astonished to find himself in so proud a Palace, with two Ladies masked, who spoke not one syllable to him, but conducted him into a neighbouring Chamber, more Nobly furnished then the Dining-room, and there left him alone. Had he been of Don Quixots humour, these adventures were enough to have transported him to some extravagance, suitable to his Rodomontadoes, and he would surely have fancied himself at least Esplandian, or Amadis: But our grave Spaniard was no more moved with all this, then if he had only been in some common Inn, or Country Cottage; only he regretted the absence of his invisible Mistress, and having all his thoughts fixed on her, he thought that Room more melancholy than a Prison which never looks handsome but without side. He readily persuaded himself, they could intent no mischief that had so nobly lodged him; and was as apt to believe the Lady that talked with him the preceding day in the Chapel, was the Sorceress that wrought all these Enchantments: a while after, he began to admire in his own thoughts at these capricious humours in Women, and with what expedition they execute those designs they have once on foot, but was no less resolved on his part likewise, patiently to expect the end of this adventure, and to keep constant to his Mistress at the Grate, whatever threats or promises they could make use of to undermine his faith. Some time after, certain Officers belonging to the House, with Vizards and Rich  on, came in to lay the cloth, which done, Supper was brought up: all was very stately, Music and Perfumes were not wanting, and our Don Carlos, besides his senses of smelling and hearing, satisfied also that of the taste, more than I could have imagined, considering the condition he was in; that is to say, he supped plentifully: But what can quell so great a courage as his was? I forgot to tell you, that I believe he washed his mouth; for I am certainly informed he was extraordinary curious of his teeth. The Music lasted a while after Supper was done, and every one being retired, Don Carlos walked up and down the room a good space, ruminating on all these Enchantments, or on somewhat else, which matters not much, and then without enquiring whether he desired to go to bed, two Gentlewomen masked, and a little Dwarf with his vizard on likewise, came to undress him, af-after they had spread a most sumptuous Toillet on a side Table. He freely submitted to all this, the Women laid down the Bed-cloaths and went forth, the Dwarf pulled off his Shoes or Boots, and then disrobed him. Don Carlos laid him down in Bed, and all this passed without breaking silence in the least on either part. Don Carlos slept well enough for a Lover; a vollery of Birds not far from his window waked him at daybreak, the masked Dwarf was ready to wait on him, and brought him the finest, whitest, and sweetest scented Linen in the World: But let us, if you please omit how he passed the time till Dinner, which was not inferior to the Supper, and proceed to the breach of that religious silence, which had been hitherto so exactly observed. Another masked Lady it was that first interrupted it, by putting the question to him, Whether he would be pleased to see the Mistress of that Enchanted Palace; He replied, She should be very welcome to him; after which, she suddenly enters the room attended by four Gentlewomen very richly clad.  

Bright Cytherea is less fair  
When she does all her Charms display;  
And Decks her in her best Array,  
To catch some new heart in her snare.   
Never had our Spaniard beheld a Person of a Richer and more Majestic mean, than this unknown Vrganda. He was so much ravished and astonished at the same instant, that all the Congees and Steps he made, while he led her by the hand into another room, whither she directed him, were but so many trips and stumblings: All what he had admired and gazed on in the ●ormer Rooms were trifles in comparison of ●hat he found in this, whose Lustre was yet ●ightned by the bravery of the masked Lady. They trod upon the richest Carpets that ever ●et were spread upon the ground, since the Spaniards used to trample on them. The Spaniard ●as set down upon a Couch whether he would 〈◊〉 not, and the Lady having placed herself by ●im upon a heap of richly Embroidered Cushions, she spoke with a voice as sweet as a Virginal, ●nd said these or the like, fine things to him.  
I doubt not, Signior Don Carlos, but you are hugely surprised withal that hath happened to you since your coming to my house last night; and though this may perhaps have made but little impression on you, yet must it needs be sufficient to evince, I can make good my words, and by what is past, you may believe me capable of performing what now remains behind. Perhaps my Rival by her wiles, and the good fortune of having attempted you first, is already in full possession of that Fort, your heart, to which I now lay siege: But know a Woman will not be put off at first denial, and if my fortune which is not to be despised, and all that may be had with me, is but too weak a motive to induce you to love me, yet know that I have this self satisfaction, that I did not obscure myself either out of shame or policy, rather choosing to run the hazard of being denied for my imperfection, then to have won your Love by Artifice. With these words she took off her mask, and gave Don Carlos a full view of Heaven, or if you please, an Epitome of it, in the loveliest Head in the World, sustained by a body of the noblest stature he ever had beheld. In a word, being joined together, they made up a person that was altogether Divine. By the freshness o● her visage, one would not have guessed her above sixteen; but by I know not what great and magestick air, she appeared to be in her twentieth. Don Carlos kept silence a while, being almost angry with his Invisible Mistress, for hindering him from wholly bestowing himself upon th● loveliest creature he ever saw, doubting bot● what he should say and do in so pressing a temptation; at length, after an interior conflict, which held him so long in suspense, as put the Lady of the Enchanted Palace to some trouble, he took a fixed resolution to reveal the secrets of his soul, which was, it may be, the most generous action he ever performed. The answer he made was this, which some have judged might have been better contrived. I cannot deny Madam, but it would have been too transcendent a happiness for me to have thus pleased you, could I have been but so happy likewise as that I might have loved you. I am sensible that I refuse the most Beautiful Person in the World, for another, that perhaps is only so in my imagination: But Madam, could you have thought me worthy of your Affection, if you had found me capable of Infidelity? And could I continue faithful if I should yield to love you? Pitry me therefore Madam, rather than accuse me, or rather let us bemoan each other, you, that you cannot obtain your wishes, and I, that I cannot become so fortunate as to get the least sight of her I Adore. He pronounced this with so mournful an accent, that the Lady easily discerned his heart went along with his tongue. She omitted no Arguments that might persuade him to change, but he was deaf at her prayers, and her tears could not force him to relent; she repeated her Assaults divers times, but he Defended as well as she Attacked: In fine, she proceeded to reproaches, and bitter language, and uttered; 
All that a raging mouth spits forth,  
When Choler is predominant.  And so left him cursing his own misfortunes a thousand times, which sprung but from his too great happiness. A Gentlewoman came and told him shortly after, that he might take his own liberty to walk if he pleased, in the Garden. He went thorough all those fair Apartments meeting no Creature in his way, till he came to the Staircase, at the foot whereof he found Ten Men in Vizards, all Armed with Swords and Pistols who guarded the door. As he walked thorough a Court, to pass into the Garden, which was suitable to the bravery of the House; One of the forementioned Guard steps near him, and with a kind of negligence that might not be suspected, told him softly, for fear of being over-heared; That an Ancient Gentleman had trusted him with a Letter Addressed to himself, which he had engaged to deliver to his own hands, though the discovery of the Enterprise might cost him his lise; which the reward of twenty Pistoles, besides the promise of as many more after the work done made him undertake, Don Carlos promised secrecy, and quickly got into the Garden to read the,  
Letter.  
Since the time I lost you, you may well imagine the trouble I am in by comparing it with your own, if you continue to love me, but as sincerely as I love you: which trouble was capable of no allay, till I happily made discovery of the place you are in. It is the Princess Porcia that carried you away, and keeps you prisoner; who never considers any thing when her own satisfaction is concerned, nor are you the first Rinaldo of that dangerous Armida: But I shall break all her Enchantments, and soon force you out of her arms, to welcome you in my own, which is the least you can deserve, if you maintain yourself but as constant, as is wished by,  
The Invisible Lady.  
Don Carlos was so ravished to receive this news from his Lady, with whom he was hearty in love, that he kissed the paper a hundred times, and returned to the Garden gate to find out the happy Messenger, on whom he bestowed a very fair Diamond Ring for recompense. He continued his walk in the Garden a long time after, and could not enough admire this Princess Porcia, of whom he had often heard speak, as a person both young and very rich, as being of one of the best Families in the Kingdom; and having a great deal of virtue in himself it begat so strange an aversion in his thoughts against her, that he resolved at the hazard of his life, to do his utmost to make his escape thence. As he came out of the Garden, he met a Gentlewoman unmasked, for now all their Masks were thrown by in the Palace, who desired to be informed whether it would be pleasing to him to have her Lady's company at his Table that day; I leave it to your discretion to judge, whether he said he should be glad of the honour or not. Soon after, supper or dinner was brought in, I have forgot now which is next in order. Porcia appeared yet fairer, I told you even now, then Cytherea, and for diversity it will not be amiss at present to say then the infant morning, or the beauteous Aurora. She was so charming in her conversation at Table, and so full of wu, that it was an inward trouble to him, to find so many excellent talents so ill employed by a Lady of her extraordinary condition. He endeavoured all he could to put himself into a pleasant humour, though his best thoughts were still rowing after his Invisible Mistress, and his heart earned to be talking again with her at the grate. As soon as they had taken away, the attendants left them alone, and Don Carlos sitting mute, either out of respect, or to oblige the Lady to begin the discourse, she gives him a fresh charge in these words. I cannot tell whether I have reason to hope for any thing from the gaiety which I think I have read in your countenance, or if the little beauty I have discovered in mine, can be so considerable in your opinion, as to create a doubt whether that which is so slily concealed from you, is likely to be more tempting; I have not hid the gift I would have bestowed, because you should have no cause to repent the acceptance, and though a person who daily recieves Petitions from others, might justly take offence at such denials, yet shall I forbear all further resentments, if you will now at last but make me reparations for your former neglect, and grant that to me, which is much more my due, than the Invisible Ladies? let me therefore know your last resolution, that if it prove not to my advantage, I may on my part likewise endeavour to muster up such arguments from my own reason, as may convince me of the weakness I have betrayed in owning a love for you. Don Carlos paused a while to try whether she would proceed in her discourse, but perceiving she had given over, and with her eye fixed on the ground, waited for the sentence he was to pronounce, he persisted in the resolution he had already taken to deal frankly with her, and to put her past all hopes of ever becoming hers, he thus spoke to her. Madam, Before I return any positive answer to what you are thus desirous to know, I must beg you would, with the same freeness I have hitherto showed, discover the real sentiments of your heart concerning what I shall propose. If yourself had obliged any one to love you, and by all the favours a Lady can bestow, without forfeiting her modesty or discretion, you had engaged him to vow himself your unalterable slave, would you not esteem him the most treacherous and basest of men, if he should break his faith and decline your service? and should not I be this vile unworthy wretch, if to obtain you, I should throw off my willing fetters and trample on all those nob'e endearments which justly makes her expect I should continue faithful in my love to her, to put on other Chains. He would have heaped many other formal Arguments to convince her; but she allowed him not the time, for starting briskly up, she told him; She now perceived plainly at what he aimed, and could not but admire his constancy, though it were a Virtue so prejudicial to her own happiness, wherefore she left him to his full liberty from that moment, only she should value it as a high favour if he would remain there till it were night, that he might return incognito as he came. While she said this, she held a Handcherchif before her eyes, as it were to hid her tears, and left the Spaniard somewhat amazed, but yet so overjoyed for the recovery of his liberty, that he could not have dissembled it, though he had been the greatest hypocrite in the world; and it is probable if the Lady had observed it, it could not have avoided a fresh quarrel. I cannot tell whether the night were long a coming, for as I hinted before, I do not trouble myself any more with such punctual observations of the times and hours; I shall only say, that the night did come at last, and he was put into a close Coach, which brought him to his own Lodging again, after a pretty good journey. And being one of the kindest Masters in the World, his Servants were overcome with joy, to see him again, and like to stifle him with hugging him in their arms; but they enjoyed his presence only a moment, for taking his Sword and Pistols, and two of his Acquaintance with him, who were not people to be baffled, he made all possible haste to his Grate, and such was his speed that those who were to accompany him, had much ado to keep pace with him. He had no sooner made the accustomed signal, but the Invisible Deity answered him. They had a thousand such tender and affectionate expressions, as draws some tears into my eyes every time I think on them: At length, the Invisible Lady said, That she having received a sensible affront in the house where she than was, she had sent for a Coach to remove thence; but because it might be perhaps too long ere hers came, she entreated he would cause his own to be made quickly ready for the better dispatch, and send for it to convey her to a place where she intended to throw off all disguise, and hid her face no longer from him. The impatient lover stayed not for any more entreaty, but ran like one transported to his Servants, or Compagnons, whom he had left at the corner of the street, and sent them immediately to bring his Coach. The Coach being arrived, the Fair Invisible made her words good, and went into it with him. She gave the directions herself to the Coachman whither he should go, and made him stop at a Great House into which they went, by Torchlight, where many at the Gate waited their coming. The Gallant went up a large pair of stairs with the Lady, and so into an upper Dining-Room, where he continued still in some trouble, because she kept on her Mask. At last several Gentlewomen richly apparelled, being come to receive them, with Wax Candles in their hands; the Lady threw off her Invisibility, and by unmasking herself, made it apparent to Don Carlos, that his Mistress at the Grate, and the Princess Porcia was but the same person. I shall not adventure to represent the strange surprise it was to Don Carlos; The Beautiful Neapolitan told him, That she had brought him now away the second time, to hear his final resolution, that the Lady at the Grate had yielded up all pretences to herself; to which she added a thousand other Gallant Witty Speeches. Don Carlos fell down at her feet, Embraced her knees, and even devoured her white hands with his greedy kissing them, thereby avoiding the many impertinent expressions which overjoyed people are apt to fall into. After his first transports were over, he fummoned all the Wit and Eloquence he could command to celebrate his Ladies pleasant contrivances, and tuned his tongue so well to her advantage and applause, that it confirmed her more and more, she was not at all mistaken in her choice. She told him withal, She had been unwilling to trust any but herself, in a trial, without which she could never have loved him, and that she would never have bestowed her heart on any man, less constant than he had showed himself.  
Upon this, the Princess Porcias' Relations, being acquainted with her design, came to them, who being of the most Considerable Persons of the Kingdom, soon got a Licence, or dispensation rather, from the Archbishop for their Marriage; which was Consummated that very night, by the Curate of the Parish, a good Priest, and an excellent Preacher; so that you may believe they wanted not a fitting Exhortation. It was reported, that they risen not up the next day till it was very late, which I am apt enough to believe. The News was soon spread abroad, whereat the Viceroy, who was nearly Related to Don Carlos, was so glad, that the Public Divertisements began afresh in Naples, where they still tell wonders of the brave Don Carlos, and his Invisible Mistress.   

CHAP. X.  
How Ragotin had a sound rap on his fingers with a busk.  
Ragotins' History had the general applause of the Company; which puffed him up so, as if it had been of his own invention; this with his Natural Pride made him begin to treat the Players Arrogantly, when going to the Women he took them perforce by the hands, and would needs be sidling a little; as it is the Country guise of Courtship, which savours more of the satire than Civility. Madam Star did only pluck her snowy hands, out of his sweaty shaggy fists; but her Associate, Madam Angelica gave him a sound rap on the knuckles with her busk. This made him retire in a Fume, blushing and muttering between his teeth to the rest of the company, where every one's tongue run at random, the one not minding what another said. Ragotin put most of them to silence with his loud bawling out, to know how they approved of his Nowell? A Young Fellow, whose name is out of my thoughts at present, briskly replies, That it was no more his then another's, since he had taken it out of a Book, and as he said this, pulled one that stuck half way out of Ragotin's greasy pocket, who scatched him fiercely by the hands to recover it again; but in despite of Ragotin, he gave it to the next man whom Ragotin straight seized upon, but as unsuccessfully as the first, the Book being conveyed already to a third, and so passing on thorough four or five several hands, which Ragotin could not reach to, being the shortest man of the company. At length, having raised himself a tiptoe five or six times, torn as many cuffs, and clawed as many wrists in vain, whilst the Book still moved above his reach in the middle region of the Chamber, poor Ragotin perceiving every one laughed at this frolic, flew like a Tiger upon the first Author of the Plot, giving him several thumps on the guts with his dire fist, which was the height of his Ability. Whilst the other crowing over him with advantage, struck him directly on the crown of his hat, which being extravagantly high, broad at the top, and straight at the band, drove his head into it up to the very chin, with the weight of his blows, which lighted so heavily on his noddle, that it shaken his weak brain out of all order, and amazed him so, he knew not where he was; and to complete his Victory, this merciless Adversary throwing his leg up between the little Fellows neck and shoulders, tumbled him down on his punnion end, at the women's feet, after a most precipitate retrogradation. Imagine I beseech you, in what a huff and rage that little Fellow must have been in, who had more pride than all the finical Barbers in the Nation, and especially at that time, when he was cried up for his History, and in presence of those fair Actresses, whom he intended to make Love to, but to which of them in particular he designed his Addresses, he was not yet resolved on himself, as you will find anon. And to tell the troth, his little body, now turned upon his breech, expressed the wrath of his soul so much by the swift motions of his legs and arms, that although his face were cased up in his Jugglers Hat, yet all the company thought fit to join together, and make it as it were a Barracado betwixt Ragotin and his Antagonist, whom they ●ook off, whilst the charitable Women raised up the Little Fellow, roaring like a Bull within his Hat, which stopping both his nose and mouth, ●ook away his breath. But the trouble was, ●ow to get it off; being shaped as I told you, ●●ide towards the crown, and narrow below, ●ike a Dutch Butter Box, for God knows, that what with his long nose, and blockhead, it stuck on so fast, that it could not be pulled off so easily as it was thrust on. Yet was this misfortune, a kind of happiness at that time; for he being then at the height of his fury, it would no doubt have proved fatal to some body, had not the Hat, which stifled him, made him think ●ather of saving himself, then injuring others. He did not call out for any assistance, because he ●ould not speak; but when they beheld him ●earing his Hat in vain with his trembling hands ●o relieve himself, and stamping on the floor or madness, that he should take so much pains ●o so little purpose, they then consulted how ●o deliver him. The first essay they made to ●luck it off, was so violent, that he thought they would have torn off head and all; which being unable to undergo, again, he made signs that they should cut off his Head-piece with a pair of Scissors. Mistress Cave untied a pair which hung at her Apron-strings, and Rancour, who was the Mountebank that wrought the cure, after he had given a sign as if he would have made the incision along his face and nose, which added to the poor patients fright, he ripped the Helmet open just behind from crown to brim. As soon as he was unhooded, the whole company burst into a laughter to see him so puffed up and swollen, as if he would have burst, and the skin of his nose rubbed off. All this had passed well enough, if a scurvy jybing compagnon had not told him, He were best to have the Hat stitched, or fine drawn together again: This unseasonable counsel, did so re-inflame his not quite extinguished chollar, that he snatches up one of the And-irons out of the chimney-corner, and making as if he would throw amongst them all; the stoutest of them shrunk in their horns, and hurried to the door as fast as they all could drive, where every one strove so eagerly to be first out, that but one of the throng could pass, who also fell down his whole length, his spurs being entangled in some body's Petticoats. This set Ragotin a laughing, whose turn was now come to have a fit of mirth, which mirth dispelled all their former fears, and called them into the room again, to restore him his Fatal Book, and borrow another Hat fit for his little Block. Yet could he not forbear railing at the person that had used him so roughly; but being more vain than vindicative, he changed his rude discourse for milder language, and told the Players, as if he had promised them a great rarity, That he intended to make a Comedy of his forementioned History, which he resolved to handle so Poetically, as should make this first Essay a Masterpiece, whereas others are forced to make divers trials, and cannot arrive to any perfection without much toil and labour, rising gradually step by step: Destiny replied, That his Story was indeed very pleasant, and Comical, yet in his humble opinion, not fit for the Theatre: I shall not desire you to instruct me, says Ragotin. my Mother was the Famous Poet Garniers Granddaughter, and I, as simple as you take me to be, who thus vouch safe to answer you, I my own self, have that Learned Man's Ink-horn in my own possession to this hour. Destiny would not be satisfied with this, but took the confidence to proceed, and tell him, That were the Famous Garnier himself to undertake it, he could never come off with credit. And where lies the difficulty Witty Sir, demanded Ragotin? It lies in this replies Destiny, That you cannot contrive this Plot into a Play, according to any Rules of Art, nor without manifest errors in Judgement and Discretion. A man of my Parts hath Authority sufficient to make what Rules he pleases said Ragotin. Do but consider I beseech you, says he, whether it would not be a fine Scene, to bring a Church Porch on the mist of the Stage, with a whole Congregation of Gallants and Ladies, making Love and Court ship to one another; surely this cannot but take exceeding well, and would deserve to be clapped; I confess I am of your opinion in one thing, that we must not Act things undecant, either reflecting on Religion, or contrary to moral Virtues; and therefore to avoid both those Rocks, I would not have them to meet or speak of their Amours within the Church itself, but assign them a place before the Church door. Destiny interrupted him, to know where he would find so many Men and Women Actors as he intended for that Scene? Pray how do they do in the Colleges? where they give Baettle sometimes, replies Rogatin. I myself at La Flesche Acted once a part in the Defeat of the Pont dese, a Play so called, where, said he, there appeared above a hundred Soldiers of the Queen Mother's party in one body upon the Stage, besides those of the King's Army more numerous than the others; And I remember, that by reason of a great storm of Rain, which fell that day; and partly spoilt our sport, the Plumes of all the Nobility we had borrowed, being soaked in the shower, it was said, those Feathers would hardly ever rise up in fashion in our days again. Destiny, who delighted to hear him discourse so judiciously, Replied, That Colleges indeed were stored with Scholars enough for such a design, but their whole company consisted but of seven or eight when they were fullest; Rancour, who as I have elsewhere told you, was an Arch-rogue, sided with Ragotin to make sport, and told his fellow Player, that he could not be of his opinion; I was an Actor before you wore breeches, said he, and therefore surely better able to judge then such a young Maggot, and I say, that a Church Porch would make the bravest Scene in the World, and for the throng of Men and Women, they might hire part of them cheap enough, and make the rest of Pasteboard. This pretty device of Rancours Past-board-men, made all the company smile; Ragotin smiled with the rest, and swore he had contrived it so in his thoughts before; but was loath to mention it, till time served; and then the Coach too, said he, what a pretty novelty that would appear upon a Stage. I once Acted Toby's Dog, and did it so naturally, that all the Audience was ravished at it; and for my own part, continued he, as we must judge of things by the effects and impressions they make upon our spirits, so I acknowledge that I never saw the Play of Pyramus and This by, but I was more delighted at the sight of the Lion, then grieved for the Death of the Lovers. Rancour maintained Ragotin's reasons, with a number of ridiculous Arguments of the same stamp, and thereby insinuated himself so deeply in his favour, that Ragotin invited him to Supper. The rest of the importunate company left the Comedians to their own liberty, who had a greater appetite to a good meals meat, then to all the chat those idle Citizens could entertain them withal.   

CHAP. XI.  
Containing, what you shall find, if you take the pains to read it.  
RAgotin led Rancour to a Tavern, where he called for all the best that the House could afford. It may be supposed that he would not bring him to his own home, because he had but short commons; but I shall not judge positively, for fear I judge wrongfully; nor would I make further inquiry, because the knowledge were not worth the pains, and I have somethings else to write, which are of greater consequence and weight. Rancour who was a Man of a deep inspection, and quickly sounded a stranger's humour, no●ooner beheld a brace of Partridges, and a Fat Capon provided for two single persons, but he imagined that Ragotin had some design in it, and did not treat him thus for his own sake alone, or because he maintained that his Novel was a fit Plot for a Play: He therefore expected to hear some new extravegance from Ragotin, who would not at first dash lay open his Soul, but continued the mention of his History. He repeated a great many Satirical Poems, which he had for the most part written against his Neighbours, and some amongst others against nameless Cuckolds, and wanton Wives than he sung drinking Catches, and produced 〈◊〉 number of Anagrams, the ordinary plague wherewith puny Poets are infected, at their first writing, which they afterwards plague others with in reciting. Rancour to complete his ruin, I mean the utter ruin of the little wit he had left, with eyes lift up to Heaven, and a losing Gamesters oaths, applauded all his works, as he called them, and protested he had never seen any thing so sprightly and excellent; nay, and ●he better to dissemble, he seemed to tear his very hair from his head, though it were only the relics of an outworn Periwig translated to a Border, so infinitely was he transported: And ●e would often say, You make yourself unhappy Sir, and us no less, by not dedicating your ●elf wholly to the Stage, for within a year or too, Corneille would be no more esteemed or ●●lked of, than the forgotten Hardy is ●ow. I ●ave not the Art to flatter, continued he, but to encourage you, and allow your just encomiums; must confess, I judged you an Excellent Poet, 〈◊〉 soon as ever I heard your first discourse, which can bring my fellow Actors to justify if occa●on were. Nor am I apt to be deceived, I have 〈◊〉 much skill in Physiognomy that I can discover Poet at first sight, and had no sooner looked ●●on your Ingenious Countenance, but I was 〈◊〉 confident of your Ability, as if I had been at ●e charge of your Education myself. Ragotin 〈◊〉 allowed all this like Buttermilk, together ●●th so many glasses of Wine, as intoxicated ●●m yet more than Rancours praises, who for his ●●n part eat and drank most hearty, saying from time to time, For God's sake Monsieur Ragotin, employ your Talon once more, you are much to blame you do not both in rich yourself and us. I blur a little paper myself sometimes, as well as other common Rhymers, but could I write but half so well as you, I should not be compelled to draw the Devil by the tail to gain a livelihood, as I now do, but might live in as good a condition as Mondory with all his Revenues: Writ therefore, dear Monsieur Ragotin, pray writ again for us, and if we do not throw dust in all the others Players eyes, both at L' Hostel de Bourgongue, and du Marests, then let me never ascend the Stage without breaking a leg or arm; this is all I have to say, and so let me drink to you; then filling up a brimmer, he began a deep health to Monsieur Ragotin, which he drank to Ragotin himself who pledged it, and revived it again to the Actresses, which he took off bareheaded, and with so much greediness, and transporting delight, that setting down hi● empty glass upon the Table, he broke off the paw before he was ware, which made him endeavour once or twice to make it stand again 〈◊〉 but finding it wanted the foot, he threw it ove● his head as in a frolic to the Lady's health, an● pulled Rancour by the sleeve to take notice of it● that he might not lose the reputation of breaking a glass for their sakes: It troubled him a little that Rancour vouchsafed not the least smil● at this Gallantry; but as I told you before, h● was rather an envious than a risible animal Rancour than asked him, what he though or 〈◊〉 their she Players? the Little Fellow answered not, but blushed as red as Scarlet; Rancour repeated the same question, at last, stuttering, blushing afresh, and turning his head aside, he told Rancour, That he was infinitely taken with one of them; And which of the two is it, said Rancour? The discovery he had already made, and this sudden question puzzled him so strangely, that he replied, I cannot tell; nor I neither said Rancour; This perplexed him more, and made him cry, it is, it is; he repeated the same words four or five several times over, which made the Comedian so impatient, that he added, in troth I believe you, she's a very handsome Girl; this confounded him so absolutely, that he could never express the particular party; and perhaps there was reason for this hesitation; for I believe it was rather lust then love, that had ceased his heart, but which of the two he most inclined to seduce, he knew not himself. In fine, Rancour naming Madam Star, he confessed she was the object of his desires; but for my part, I believe, if he had named Angelica first, or her Mother Cave, he would have forgiven the rap the one gave him on his knuckles, and the others age, and have vowed both soul and body to the thing he had named; so much was the Goat given up to his pleasure in Women. The Player made him toss up another great glass full of Wine, to wash down his confusion, and drank the like himself, after which he told him, whispering in his ear, and looking round the room, as if it had been some weighty secret, though he knew well enough no body was near, Well Sir, Your wound will not prove mortal, since you have met with a Love-Chyrurgion, that can bring you a Balsam may cure it, provided you give faith, and keep it secret; and yet it is no easy Enterprise, for Madam Star is a very Tygress, and her Brother Destiny a mere Lion; but however, I believe you may prove more than her match if you follow my counsel, for I know what I know: in the mean while, let us take off our drink, to morrow is a new day. The drinking of a fresh health or two interrupted a while their Discourse, but then Ragotin again renewed it, by giving a Catalogue of his Perfections and Wealth to Rancour; and telling him, That he had a Nepueu, a servant to one of the Treasurers, that this Nepueu had made acquaintance with the Partisan la Ralliere, during his being at Manse, whither he was sent to settle a Tax or Impost, and made him believe he would get him as considerable a Salary as any of the King's Players by this Nepueu 's interest: Nay he told him moreover, That if any of his Relations had Sons that were Scholars, he could procure them some good Benefice or other, by the intercession of a Niece of his, who was married to a good Woman's Brother that was maintained by an● Abbot's Steward of that Country, who had many good places in his disposal. Whilst Ragotin was thus displaying his prowess, Rancour who grew thirsty with overmuch drinking, did nothing but fill the two glasses, which were as soon tipped over their tongues again, Ragotin not daring to refuse any thing at his hands, who was likely to do him so much good; At last, with swallowing so much, they began to grow full; Rancour was only a little more serious than before, but Ragotin grew so dozed, and heavy, that he leaned his head on the Table, and fell fast asleep. Rancour called for one to come and make ready a bed, it being too late to return to his own Inn. The Maid told him, She thought it would not be a miss to make ready two, seeing what a pickle Monsieur Ragotin was in. In the mean time, he slept on, and never did any man snore louder than himself. Two Beds were dressed in the same Chamber, where there was a third unused, but all the noise they made in putting on the sheets, and ordering the Chamber could not disturb our Little Man. He called the Wench a thousand Whores and Jades, and threatened to slay her, when she called him to go to his rest. In the conclusion, Rancour turned his Chair about towards the fire, and then he opened his eyes, and suffered the Maid to unclothe him; after which they threw him by main strength between his sheets, and Rancour being gotten into Bed likewise, puts out the candle, after he had bolted the Chamber door. An hour afterwards Ragotin rises up, and goes out of his Bed, for what I cannot readily tell. He wanders about the room, till he had over-turned most of the chairs and stools, and himself likewise, groping in every corner for his Bed, which he could not find again for his heart; In the end he lights upon Rancours, and wakes him with haling off the ; Rancour asked, What he would have? I am hunting to find my bed, said Ragotin; You must go towards my left hand, says Rancour; the Little Drunkard creeps to the right, and went and nestled himself betwixt the Rugg and the Matt of the third Bed, which had neither Bolster, nor Sheets; yet there he takes out his full nap with a great deal of ease and quiet. Rancour in the morning put on his Apparel, before Ragotins' eyes were open; He roused the Drunken Dandy-Prat, and asked him, whether it were to do penance, that he forsook a good Featherbed, to lie in lousy straw: Ragotin maintained he did not remove at all, and therefore for certain, that Chamber was haunted with Spirits. He quarrelled with the Landlord, who stood up for his own concern, and threatened to Sue him, for slandering his house: But I have been too tedious in relating Ragotins' debauch; let us return therefore to the place where I left our Players.   

CHAP. XII.  
A Nocturnal Combat.  
I Am a person of too much honour and sincerity, not to Advertise my Courteous Reader, that, if he be offended with the Fooleries he hath hitherto met with in this present Volume, he would do very well to proceed no further; for on my credit, he shall find no other, though my book should swell to the bulk of a Grand Cyrus; and if by the pattern he hath seen already, he cannot give a guess at the remainder of the piece, why, he is in no worse condition than myself, for by my faith, one Chapter begets another, I do like the careless Traveller, lay the reins in my Pegasus neck, and let him take his own course; Or perhaps I may have a studied design, without stuffing my Romance with polite descriptions, both to divert and teach at the same instant, just as the sight of a Drunkard, whose Vice gives us caution, and aversion, while his Apishness makes us tickle with laughter, to see the strange effects of Wine. But to conclude this Morality, and return to our Players once more. As soon as their Chamber was cleared from the crowd, and Ragotin gone with Rancour his new guest; the Carrier whom they left behind them at Tours, came to the Inn with a Horse load of their goods, and sat down at Table amongst them: By whose relation, as also by what they gathered from one another, it appeared how the Intendant of the Country was put by the design he contrived against them, having had much ado himself to get out of the people's hands, and his Guard likewise. Destiny related to them, how he made his escape in his Turkish habit, wherein he intended to act the Soliman written by Mairet, and how he came to Manse with Cave and Rancour, avoiding Alenson because the Plague was there, they being all attired according to the description mentioned at the beginning of these most true, but least Heroic adventures. Madam Star gave them also an account of the assistance she received from the Lady at Tours, whose name never came to my knowledge, and how by her means she was conducted to a Village not far from Bounestable, where she sprained, or distocated her foot with a fall from her horse. She added moreover, that being informed the rest of the company was at Manse, she procured a Horselitter to carry her thither, for which Litter she was beholding to the aforesaid charitable Lady. After Supper, Destiny remained alone with the Ladies in their Chamber. Cave loved him as much as if he had been her own Son; Madam Star was her darling too, and Angellica her only Daughter and Heiress loved Destiny and Star, as Brother and Sister. She did not yet certainly know what they were, nor why they became Players: But thus much she plainly discovered, though they styled themselves Brother and Sister, that their kindness was greater than their kindred, for Destiny behaved himself with the highest respect imaginable towards her; and she was endued with a great deal of Wit and Discretion, and as Destiny made it appear by all his actions, that he was a person of no ordinary Education, so Madam Star had rather the demeanour of a Lady of Quality, than a wand'ring Comedian. Now as Destiny and Star were cherished by Mistress Cave and her Daughter, so did they pay them a reciprocal friendship in return, which we need not much to wonder at, since they deserved as much as any Players in France, though thorough want of happiness, rather than any want of merit, they never had the honour to appear on the theatres of L' Hostel de Bourgogne, or du Marests, which are the Non plus ultra of all Actors. Those that cannot understand these three short Latin words (which I could not forbear to insert in this place, being so pat to the present purpose) may get some body to expound them if they please. But to leave this digression, Destiny and Star could not forbear to express their great joy and caresses, after so long absence, in presence of the two Actresses themselves. They owned the infinite care and troubles they had endured for each other, and Destiny told Madam Star, that he verily believed, the last time they Acted at Tours he saw their old persecutor; having spied him in the crowd that were at that Play, though he endeavoured to muffle himself in his Cloak; so that finding himself unable to make any considerable resistance if he had happened to be set upon at his going from the Town, he had clapped a great black patch upon his cheek. Then he proceeded to relate the adventure of the many Horse-Litters that met together on the way, and said, He was much mistaken if the unknown person that searched all the Litters so narrowly, as may be seen in the Seventh Chapter, were not the same forementioned enemy of theirs. Whilst Destiny talked of these things, poor Star could not refrain from shedding some tears; Destiny was much moved thereat, and having given her the best comfort he could, he added, That in case she would but permit him to take as much care in seeking out their common Enemy, as she had made him use, to shun him hitherto, he dust engage that she should either quickly be freed from those persecutions, or he would lose his life in the Attempt. These last words afflicted her yet more and more; and Destiny could not but share therein, Cave and her Daughter, who were naturally inclined to pity, kept consort with them out of civility, or by contagion, so that I believe they shed some salt water too. I cannot affirm that Destiny wept, but this I dare assure you, that both he and the Women stood all mute for a good space, whilst those that were most tenderhearted expressed it with the silent oratory of their trickling tears, the others with loud sighs. At last, Cave put them out of this dumps, and reproached Destiny and Star, for having conversed so long and friendly with her, and her Daughter; and yet put so little confidence in either of them, as to conceal their real condition from them all that while. To which she further added, That she had undergone so much affliction in her own person, that they could hardly ever meet with any one more capable to give counsel to such as were in perplexity, as they appeared to be, than she herself was. To which Destiny replied, That it was no distrust that had made them keep it a secret so long; but only he fancied the relation of so many misfortunes would have proved too Melancholy a story for her ear. He afterwards proffered to give her an account when she had so much time to throw away, or had a mind to hear it. Cave would not have it deferred at all, and her Daughter, who earnestly desired the same thing, being sat on the Bedside near her, and Star. Destiny was about to begin his relation, when on a sudden they heard a great uproar in the next Chamber. Destiny listened to it a while, but the noise being rather increased then abated, and some body crying out murder, help, help, Destiny fling out of the Chamber in three leaps, to the ruin of his doublet, which Cave and her Daughter tore off from his back, thinking to withhold him. He went into the other room whence the noise proceeded, where though all was in darkness, yet the many smart cuffs on the ears, kicks on the breech; confused gabbling of men's and women's tongues who were desperately engaged in fight, together with the trampling of their bare feet on the floor, made a most horrid noise. He thrusts himself imprudently amongst the scuffle, and immediately received a box on either cheek. This made him change his mind of parting those goblins, into an eager desire of revenge; he gins to make use of his fists, and whirling his body round, with his arms spread like a turnstyle, they met with many an invisible enemy, though not immortal, as afterwards appeared by his bloody hands. The battle lasted yet long enough to afford him a score of good lusty thumps in return of his civility, which he repaid them again with double the number for interest. In the heat of the Combat, he felt one by't him by the calf of his leg, he puts down his hand, and feeling something that was hairy, thought it some dog that had fastened on him; but Cave and her Daughter, who appeared at the Chamber door, with a light, like St. Elmes fire after a storm, made Destiny soon find he was in the midst of seven people in their shirts and smocks only, who let go their hold, and ungrappled themselves from one another, as soon as ever the light was brought. But the calm was soon ruffled again; mine Host who was one of the seven white Penitents, lays hold again on the Poet; Olive was likewise assaulted by mine Hosts Tapster, another white Friar. Destiny endeavours to part the fray, but the Hostess who was the beast that bitten him by the leg, which he took for a dog, or bitch, by her bare head, and short locks, flew at his face with the help of her two Maids, as naked and bareheaded as herself. The yelping hunts-up began afresh, the blows went merrily round, and the Engagement grew fiercer and hotter than at first. At last, other people alarmed with the noise, came upon the spot, made their way thorough the thickest of the crowd, parted them, and made them suspend the second time. The question was now, to know the cause of the quarrel, and what could be the accident that had drawn seven naked people into one Chamber without light. Olive who seemed to be lest moved, said, That the Poet being gone forth of his Chamber, returned again with more than usual speed, pursned by the Master of the House, who threatened to beat him; the Hostess followed her Husband, and sets upon the Poet, when himself going to part them, was engaged by the Man and the two Maid-Servants, and the candle falling down, made them fight longer for want of it, than he believed they would otherwise have done. Now the Poet was to plead for himself, who told them, That he had made a couple of the rarest Stanza's that ever were composed, but having them only in his memory, and fearing lest such rarities should be lost for want of writing them down, he went for a Candle to see to insert them in his Book, but the Maids only laughed at him, and because he reproved them, mine Host called him Rope-dancer, which he answered with the Epithet of Cuckold. he had no sooner spoken the word, but mine Host, who was still within the reach of him, gave him a sound box, one would have sworn this was the signal for battle, for the cuff on the ear was no sooner given, but with one consent, the Wife, the Man, and the Maid-Servants ran up to the Players, and charged them again most furiously, who received the onset bravely. This last rencontre was more desperate, and lasted longer, than both the others. Destiny having grappled and boarded a fat Wench, turned up her tail, and clapped her lustily on the breech with the sole of his slipper. Olive perceiving this made the company laugh, did as much to the other Lass. Mine Host was at work with the Poet, and the Land-Lady, who was indeed the greatest fury of all, being ceased on by some of the Spectators, grew so mad at it, that like a Bedlam, she bauled out thiefs, thiefs. Her cries awaked La Rappiniere who lodged just over the way. He made them open the door, and imagining by the hubbub, there could be no less than seven or eight at least slain, he commanded them to keep the Peace in the King's Name, and being informed of the occasion of this disorder, he exhorted the Poet to make no more Stanza's in the night, and was like to have cudgeled the Host and his Wife for railing at the Players, calling them nicknames, and swearing he would unkennel them the next day; but La Rappiniere to whom this Host was somewhat indebted, threatened to Arrest him, and that muzzled him. La Rappiniere returned home again, the rest went to their several lodgings, and Destiny to the Actresses' Chamber, where Cave conjured him not to put off his promise any longer of relating both his own and his Sister's Adventures. He told them, he desired no better, and began his story, in the same manner as you shall find in the following.   

CHAP. XIII.  
Something longer than the foregoing. The History of Monsieur Destiny, and Madam Star.  
I Was born in a Village not far from Paris, and could perhaps make you believe, if I would endeavour it, that I descended from some Illustrious Family, it being easy to impose on such ●s have an affection for us, and cannot disprove ●s; but really I have too much generosity in my ●ature to deny the meanness of my Extraction. My Father was indeed one of the Chiefest in ●hat Village, and as well to pass as the best of ●hem: yet I have often heard him confess he ●as a poor Gentleman born, and served the ●●ing in his Youngest days as a Soldier, where ●aving reaped nothing but scars and wounds, ●e turned Squire, or Gentleman Usher to a rich parisian Dame, where, after he had scraped 〈◊〉 ●●mm together, for he was a kind of Steward ●●kewise, and fingered the cash, which no doubt ●●d sometimes stick to his fingers; he married 〈◊〉 ancient Gentlewoman in the Family, who ●●●ing shortly after, left him sole Executor, ●hich was a double advantage. He grew weary 〈◊〉 a little while of living single, and being no ●●s tired with his Service, he engaged himself a second time in the snares of Matrimony with a Countrywoman, that was wont to furnish his Lady's Family with bread; and by this Woman was I brought into the World. My Father's name was Garigues, I never could learn certainly what Country Man he was, and as for my Mother's name, that signifies little to our History. It is sufficient to let you know, she was more covetous than my Father, and my Father more covetous than any man, and both of them of 〈◊〉 large conscience. My Father had the repute o● inventing the morsel of flesh tied to a string and fastened to the Pot-hooks, that so it might be pulled out before it consumed too much, and serve a week thorough, to make Broth or Soupe. could reckon up a hundred other inventions o● good Husbandry, which got him the name o● Spare-penny; but not to over-tyre you, I shall only make mention of two, very hard to be believed and yet not more strange than true. He ha● heaped up good store of Corn together, to mal● his advantage of a dear Market; but a general abundance following, and the price growing less and less, he was so possessed with dispa●● and deprived of all judgement and reaso● that he would needs hang himself: A Neighbour of his coming into the Chamber, while 〈◊〉 was disposing him to execute this noble desig● and had hid herself for fear of discovery, 〈◊〉 to some other intent, was very much astonish when she saw him swinging on an Iron hook the chimney. She ran to him, and cried 〈◊〉 for help, and withal cut him down again whilst my Mother coming up at the noise, helped to pull of the necklace he had on. Perhaps they afterwards repent of the good deed, for he banged both of them, like Balaams' Ass, and made the poor Woman pay for the new Cord she had cut, deducting what it cost out of a little sum of money which he owed her. The other story is no less wonderful: He grudged every thing he eat, and his Wife being brought a bed of a Boy, the fancy took him, that she had milk enough to nourish both her Son, and himself likewise; and hoped by this whimsy, that ●ucking his Wife would save him so much other ●ood, and prove a diet of an easy digestion. My Mother had yet less understanding than this Man, and was more covetous; so that although ●er invention were not so fruitful, yet when ●e had once lighted on the secret, she was more exact in observing and practising those conceits ●hen himself. She therefore makes a trial to ●urse both her Child and her Husband with ●er own breast-milk, and sometimes took a share ●er self likewise, with so much conceited reso●●tion, that the poor innocent Babe died a ●●artyr, for pure hunger, and my Father and 〈◊〉 other were so weakened, and afterwards so ra●nously hungry, that with overmuch repletion, ●●at fell into a tedious fit of sickness. A while ●●ter my Mother was big with Child of me, and ●●ing happily delivered, of a most unhappy ●reture, my Father hied him to Paris to in●●eat his Lady to be, Godmother, and Partner ●●th an honest Clergyman, who dwelled in our Village, where he had a very good living. Coming home again about the Evening, to avoid the excessive heat of the day, as he passed thorough one of the great Streets in the Faux bourg, where most of the new Houses were then building, he perceived something very bright and glistering, that crossed over the street. He was not much concerned what it might be: but a kind of a mournful noise, reaching his Ear, as from some body that was in great distress, which noise seemed to proceed from the place he saw the bright object go in at, he boldly follows the sound into a large Building not yet finished, where he found a woman sitting on the ground. The place she set in was so light with the Moon shine that my Father perceived she was very young, and very well clad, and that which sparkled so in his Eyes, was a Cloth of Silver Garment she had on; you need not doubt, but my Father who was valiant enough from his Cradle, was less surprised than the young Gentlewoman; but she was in such a condition, that worse could not befall her, than what she then suffered; And that gave her confidence to speak first, and tell my Father; that if he were a Christian he could not choose but pity her; she being then in labour; and that finding her pain increase, her servant Maid not returning as sh● expected, whom she had sent to a trusty Midwife of her acquaintance, she was happily stol forth of her Father's house, without disturbin any body: where she had left the door ope● that the maid might get in again upon occasion she had scarce ended these words, but she was delivered of a Child which my Father wrapped up in his cloak. He supplied the Office she then put upon him, the best he could, and this young lass conjured him to carry away the little Infant immediately, to be very careful of it, and within two days after, not fail to go to a certain Clergyman, she named to him, who would supply him with moneys, and let him have all the conveniencies requisite for the maintenance of the Babe. At this mention of money, my Father whose Soul thirsted after Gain, was going about to display all the Squire-ships eloquence he had; but she allowed him not so much time; For putting a Ring on his Finger, which was the token to the Priest, whom ●e was to inquire for, she tied the Child ●s well as she could in her Neck-handkerchief, ●nd wrapping it again in the Cloak, made ●im haste away with all speed; though he ●t first were somewhat unwilling to leave her, ●n that condition. I suppose, she had much a●oe to get back again to her Lodgin; as for ●y Father he comes home to the Village, put ●e Child to his Wife's custody, and failed ●ot, two days after, to hunt out the old Priest, 〈◊〉 whom he showed the Token. He understood 〈◊〉 this man, that the Mother of this Infant was 〈◊〉 a very great and rich Family; and had been ●t with Child by a Scots Lord, who was gone ●er into Ireland to raise men for the King's Service, which Lord had promised her Marriage. ●he Priest told him moreover, that by reason of the hardshift she made when she was delivered, it had put her into such a Fever, that they dispaired of her life, and in the extremity of her malady, she had confessed all the Story to her own Father, and Mother, who instead of chiding, endeavoured to comfort her, as having indeed, but that only child in the world; yet the misfortune was kept secret from the Family, and in conclusion he assured my Father, that in case he took a special care of the Child, his fortune was made for ever: whereupon he gave him fifty Crowns, and a bundle of all things fitting for his little Nurssery. My Father returned to the Village, after he had eaten a plentiful Dinner with the Priest. I was sent out to Nurse, and a stranger was put into the Son's place. About a month after the Scotch Lord arrived, and finding his Mistress in thi● desperate condition, was married to her a day before she died, and so became a Widower almost as soon as a Husband. He came to ou● Village within a few days afterwards, with hi● late Wife's Father and Mother. The sight of th● Child renewed their sorrows afresh, while the● hugged the poor Infant almost to death wit● kindness, and kissed it eternally: My Father had reason to brag of the Scotch Lords bounty nor did the others forget to bestow a largesse upon their pretty Grandchildes' keeper. The● went back to Paris very well satisfied 〈◊〉 th● care my Father had taken, but would not carry the Child away as then, the Marriage b●ing kept private for some reasons best known themselves, as soon as I could go alone, my father sent for me to his own house, to be a Compagnon to the young Count of Glaris, (for so was the Child called after his Father's Title.) The antipathy, which is mentioned to have been betwixt Jacob and Esau, even from their Mother's Womb, could not be greater than that betwixt this young Earl and myself: My Father and Mother loved him tenderly, and had an aversion towards me, though I gave them as much hopes that I might one day prove an honest man, as he did to the contrary. There was nothing but what was very suspicious and mean in him; and I appeared to be somewhat above my poor condition, rather behaving myself like an Earls, than Garigues son: And though I am now reduced to the necessity of being an Actor; yet I rather construe it a Pique of Fortune against Nature, than any oversight of nature in my production; or if I may take leave to give you my opinion freely, then let me tell you, it hath been often observed, that Nature takes delight sometimes to confer her favour on those whom fortune hath an unjust aversion for. I shall step over the infancy of two young country Boys (for Glaris was by inclination more a Peasant than myself) since our chiefest adventures in that unripe age, was only our frequent wrangling and cuffing. But thus much by the way, when ever we fell together by the Ears, I always got the Victory, unless my Father or mother took his part in the contest, which they did so often, and with so much heat and passion, that my God father, by name, Monsieur de Sant Sauveur, was troubled at it, and begged of my Father to let him have me away. To this he consented with much gladness, my Mother being yet more willing and joyful than my Father to be rid of my company. Thus was I kept at my Godfathers well clad, and not ill fed, he very much caressing and seldom beating me. He spared no cost to have m● taught both to Read and Writ well, and as soon as I was advanced to an Age capable of undertaking the Latin tongue, he persuaded a person of quality his neighbour, and a man that had great riches, to let me Study with his two Sons, under the tuition of a very learned Scholar, he had sent for from Paris, to whom he gave a very considerable allowance. This Gentleman, by Name and Title, the Baron of Arques bred up his children with a great deal of care. The elder was called St. Far, a youth of an indifferent good shape, but withal brutish without reclaiming; whereas the youngest, besides that he was better fashioned then his brother was endued with a vivacity of Spirit and nobleness of mind equal to the comeliness of his body. In short, I do not believe there could be greater appearances or hopes of virtue and signal honesty in any person, than were to be found in this Gentleman whose name was Verville. He honoured me with his friendship, and I loved him as if he had been my own brother, ever respecting him like a Master. As for Saint Far he was uncapable of every thing, but his unruly passions, nor can I better express what sentiments his soul cherished for his brother, and me, then by affirming, that he had no more regard or affection for him, then for me, whom he treated with a careless neglect, and had no less love for me, then for his brother whom he little valued. His divertisements were very different from ours; He delighted in nothing but hunting, and loathed his studies; Verville seldom followed that sport, but gave himself much to his books, in which we held a rare conformity, as in most other things, to which my inclination and not complaisance only prompted me, though in civility I was obliged to the last. The Baron D Arques had a very fair Library of Romances: Our Tutor, who had never met with any in his Latin Province, and therefore had at first forbidden us the reading them, and often condemned them to the Baron, there by to render them as despicable as they were pleasing to him, was at last so charmed with them himself, that after he had devoured both Ancient and Modern, he acknowledged, that in his opinion the reading of good Romances, instructed so delightfully, that he believed them no less effectual to stir us up to noble achievements, and polish the mind with Wit and Judgement, than Plutarch's works themselves. He therefore persuaded us to be conversant in them, with as much earnestness, as he before prohibited it, and bid us in the first place begin with the most Modern: but those were yet above our apprehension, and till we came to be at the age of Fifteen, we found more Gust● in Amadis de Gaul, than Astrea, and those other curious Romances of a latter date, wherein our French Authors have made it appear, as well as in a thousand other particulars, that though they are not so happy at inventing, as other nations, yet they exceed them all for imitation and improving. We therefore wasted a great portion of the time, allowed us for our recreation, in the lecture of Romances. But as for St. Far, he nicknamed us The dull Bookworms, and went each day abroad a hunting or beating the counrey people, at which he was very active. The inclination I had to study and temperance, got me the good will of the Baron of Arques, who was as tender of me as if I had been his kinsman. He would not part me from his Sons, when he sent them to the Academy, about which time, an eminent Noble man, and one that was related to the Baron D' Arques raising some troops of horse for the Venetians service. Saint Far and Verville persuaded their Father so much that he gave them leave to go thither with him. The good Gentleman would needs have me venture likewise, and Monsieur de Saint Sauveur my God father, who loved me extremely, freely gave me a very considerable bill of Exchange that I might not be too chargeable to those whom I had the honour to accompany, and to make use of upon occasion. We took the farthest way about that we might have the sight of Rome, and some other of the chiefest Cities of Italy, in each of which we made some stay, those only excepted whereof the Spaniards are Masters In Rome I fell sick, and the two brothers prosecuted their journey; he that carried them not daring to lose the opportunity of the Pope's Galleys, which were going to join with the Venetian Armada about the Dardenellas, where they lay in wait for the Turks. Vervill was the most sorrowful man that could be, to leave me, and I almost dispaired to think of his going at that time from me, when I hoped to have rendered myself worthy of his affection, by some signal service. As for Saint Far, I think he parted, as if he had never seen me, nor did I respect him, but as the brother of Vervill, who left me all the money he could amass together, but whether with his brother's consent or not, is unknown. Thus was I left sick at Rome, without any other acquaintance than my Landlord, who was a Flemish Apothecary; I had all the attendance and assistance that could be desired, during my Malady; he had no little skill in Physic, and (according to my poor judgement) I found him far more able than the Italian Doctor, that undertook me. In the end, I recovered, and got strength enough, to go and view the most remarkable things about Rome, where a stranger may find enough to satisfy his greatest curiosity. I pleased myself extremely in frequenting the Vine-yards, for so they call divers Gardens much fairer than the Tuilleries) which the Cardinals, and other persons of quality about Rome maintain with great curiosity, rather out of pride and vainglory, than any delight of their own, seldom or never going themselves thither. One day when I was walking in one of the fairest gardens, I saw about the turning of the walk, a couple of women in very good habits, whom two young French men had stopped, and would not suffer to pass by them, till the youngest had taken off the vail which covered her face. The one of these, who seemed to be the Master, was indeed so insolent as to offer to pull off her vail by force, whilst she that was bare-faced was withheld by his servant. I made no demur upon what I thought myself obliged to do; but told those uncivil persons, their insolence was not to be endured. They were both amazed, hearing me speak with so much resolution, as might have startled them, though they had been provided with swords, as I myself was, which then indeed they were not. The two women ran towards me for shel●er, and the young Frenchman preferring the displeasure of an affront to his being beaten, said to me at his going thence, Monsieur Bravo, we may meet another time, when all the weapons shall not be in one hand: To which I replied, that I should never hid myself; his Valet followed him, and I remained with the two Gentlewomen, the elder of them who was unvailed being about the age of thirty, she returned me thanks in such good French, as had not the least Accent of Italian, and told me amongst other passages, that if all the French nation were like me, the Italian Ladies would make no scruple to follow our examples. After which words, to retribute as it were the service I had done them, she added, that although she had refused her daughter should unveil her face upon compulsion, it was but just however, that she should uncover herself to me. Lift up your vail Leonora, pursued she, that this gentleman may know we are not altogether unworthy of the honour of his protection. She had no sooner said so, but her daughter in obedience took off her vail, or rather dazzled me. I never beheld any thing so beautiful; she cast her bright eyes twice or thrice upon me, as it were by ●ealth, and seeing me still gaze upon her, it brought so lively a red into her cheeks, as made her countenance look like an Angels. I perceived her mother was very fond of her; for she see med to participate of the delight I took in beholding her daughter. But I being unacquainted with the like Adventures, and somewhat out of countenance thorough my youthful bash fullness betrayed a timorous kind of weakness by the cold compliments I made in answer to their repeated thanks; when they took their leaves of me, which perhaps gave them a worse opinion of my judgement, than they had of my courage. I was vexed in my mind, I had not inquired where they dwelled, and proffered to wait upon them to their lodging; but when it was too late to overtake them, I asked the Gardener whether he knew them; and it was a long time before we could understand each other, he speaking as broken French, as my Italian. As last more by figns then words, he made me understand, they were unknown to him. I returned back again to my Dutch Apothecary, not the same man as I went forth, that is to say, very much smitten, and very desirous to know, whether the fair Leonora were a Courtesan, or an honest Lady, and whether she had as much wit as her mother showed in her discourse. This made me resign myself up to Melancholy and sullen pensiveness; flattering myself with a thousand imaginary hopes, which somewhat diverted me at first, but after wards left me in grief and trouble, when I had duly weighed the improbability of the thing Having built many Castles in the air, at last, I took up a resolution of seeking them out again, presuming I could, not hunt very long without retriving them, in some part or other of that City, which is not over Populus. This made me walk abroad the second time on the same day, searching in every place where I could expect to find them, but I returned back much more tired and discontented, than I was before. The next day I began a stricter search, but with the same success, which increased my discontent. The speed I made in hurrying up and down, the often casting up my eyes at every window I passed, and the clutter I betrayed in following every woman, that had the least resemblance of my Leonora's shape or stature, made me be taken by every one that observed it, for the most ridiculous Monsieur that ever appeared in Rome, to the disgrace of the whole Nation. 'Tis very strange, how I could recover any strength, being in this damnable pickle, so over head and ears in love, with I knew not whom. And yet my bodily health increased till I was perfectly well, whilst I remained still distempered in mind, and divided betwixt Love and honour the first detaining me in Rome, the other summoning me to Candia, so that I knew not whether to obey, either the letters I often received from Verville, who conjured me by all the ties of friendship to go and find him out, or my foolish passion that had thus possessed me. At last considering I could not get the least intelligence of the two Ladies, though I had used all the possible diligence, I satisfied my Landlord, and made up my bun, dle ready to departed. The day before I went Signior Stephano Vanbergue, (so was my Apothecary called) told me, he would bestow a dinner upon me at a friends house of his, and let me see that for a Dutch man he had made no ill choice, adding withal, that he had forborn to invite me sooner, being a little jealous and wary in a thing concerned his Amours. I promised to go rather out of complaisance, than any other motive, and thither we went together just at dinner time. The house he led me to, had neither the looks nor furniture suitable to an Apothecary's Mistress: We came first into a Hall, very well adorned, and from thence into a most magnificent chamber where I was received by Leonora and her mother. You may well imagine how much this surprisal pleased me. This fair Virgin's mother came up towards me according to the French mode of salutation, and truly rather kissed my cheek than I hers; I was so astonished, that I scarce knew what I did, or heard what she said; At length I recovered my senses; found Leonora more beautiful and charming then when I first beheld her; yet had not the confidence to kiss her. I perceived my error as soon as I had committed it, but not endeavouring, or daring to repair it, it called as much blood into my face, as Leonars pretty modest bash fullness had into hers. Her mother told me, she was desirous, Before I left that City, to give me thanks for the pains I had taken in seeking for them; which increased my confusion. She led me to a Cruel, tricked up after the French fashion, whither her daughter did not follow, finding me without doubt too sottish in my carriage and so not worthy her conversation. She stayed with Signior Stephano, whilst I behaved myself with her mother, just according to my birth, which was to say truth, just like a country clown. She was pleased to furnish all the discourse herself, and shown a great deal of discretion and wit, though there is nothing more difficult then to make wit appear to those that are void of it. For my part I never had less than at that nick of time, and if she were not tired with my company then, surely she was never so with any one in her days. She told me amongst many other things (to which I hardly answered I, or no) that she was a French woman by birth, and I might know of Signior Stephano the reasons which detained her at Rome. After this, to dinner I must go, and behaved myself at Table as I had done before in the Cruel; for I was so strangely troubled, that I could scarce know my right hand from my left. I sat all the time they were eating, just like an Image, with my eyes constantly fixed upon Leonora's, who was importuned with it no doubt, and to punish my folly, cast her eyes another way all the while I stared at hers. If the mother had not discoursed all the dinner time, there must have been a midnight's silence: but she entertained Signior Stephano, about the affairs of Rome, at least I imagine so, for I am not certain of it. At last we risen from Table, to every one's content but mine, who grew Visibly worse and worse. When it was parting time, they told me a thousand fine obliging things, to which I answered not, but what is usually subscribed at the bottom of our Letters: Only one thing I had the confidence to beg before my exit, which I had not the cou●age to take at my entrance, and that was a kiss from the fair Leonora, which completed my ●uine. Stephano could not pump one single fillable from me all the time we were going home. 〈◊〉 locked myself into my chamber, cast me down ●pon a bed, with my Cloak and Sword about ●●e, there I considered all what had passed. Leo●●ra presented herself to my imagination with ●ore beauty, then had invaded my sight. I ●ethought myself of the little wit, I had shown ●oth to the Mother and Daughter, in my sullen ●umour, and every time this came into my memory, shame set my cheeks on fire. I wished I ●ad had a good fortune; was afflicted at my ●ean birth; and then fancied a many brave adventures in my love and whimsical designs In short studying nothing more than some fair pretence to put off my journey, but finding none that pleased me, I was so foolishly passionate as to wish for my former sickness again, to which I was but too much inclined. Then nothing but a letter to her would serve turn; but when I had begun it, I did not like it, and so put the beginning of one or two scribbles in my pocket, which I durst never have sent her, though I had finished them. After I had thus sufficiently tormented myself, having nothing in my thoughts but Leonora, I would needs go to the same walk where I first had the happiness to see her, and there resign myself up wholly to my passion for a while, and then return back again by their house for the last time. This spacious place 〈◊〉 walked to, was somewhat distant from the City, in the midst of several old uninhabited buildings. As I was passing under a Portico, I heard somebody coming after me, and at the same time was run into the body with a Rapier a little beneath the Reins. I turned about very nimbly laying hold upon my sword, and finding it was the young French Gentleman's servant I formerly mentioned, intended to return him as much as he so basely gave me. But having beaten him from his first Station a good way back, for he retreated still as he put by my thrusts; his master coming from behind the Portico, and cowardlike assaulting me behind gave me a terrible cut over the head, and another thrust in my thigh, which made me fal● down. There was little hopes I should escape ●heir hands, being thus surprised; but want of judgement, as it commonly happens in such unvorthy actions, made the young fellow wound ●is own Master in the right hand, and at the same ●stant two Father Minims Friars of the Trinity ●u Mont, who passed that way, and saw their lecherous dealing with me, being come to my assistance, my enemies fled, and left me wounded in 3 several places. Those good Friars were frenchmen to my very great comfort; for in so ●nfrequented a place, if an Italian had seen me a such a condition he would sooner have avoided, then succoured me, for fear least having ●●sisted me, he should be taken in the act, and ●●demned for having murdered me. Whilst ●e of these charitable Friars confessed me, the there ran to my lodgin to give my Landlord notice of my misfortune; who came instantly 〈◊〉 me, and caused me to be carried away half ●ead to my own Chamber. These wounds, and ●e violent love I had late contracted, soon ●ought me into a desperate Fever. There was 〈◊〉 hopes of my life, nor did I much care what become of me. Nevertheless, I could not put ●●e thoughts of Leonora from my mind, they in●eased daily upon me, as my strength wasted. ●●t being able therefore to undergo this bur●en any longer, nor willing to die till I had ●●de discovery it was for her sake, I called for ●n, Ink, and Paper. They verily thought I ●●v'd; but I repeated it with so much earnestness, and told them so often, they would drive me into despair, unless they furnished me with what I called for, that at length Signor Stephano who had discovered my passion, and had wit enough to judge what my design was, sent me every thing I demanded, and as if he had been Secretary to my thoughts, he would needs stay alone in my company. I read over the papers I had formerly begun, once or twice, to help me in the stile I had formerly fancied, and then wrote thus to Leonora.  I no sooner beheld you, but I was compelled to love you; my reason made no opposition, but acknowledged with my eyes, that you were the loveliest object in the World, instead of informing me that I was unworthy to be your Servant. But what could this have done, save only to inflame my wounds by those fruitless remedies, and after it had put me on the defensive posture, I must have yielded at the last, to the necessity of loving you; a fate you do impose on all that have the boldness to lift their eyes up to your beauty I have loved you therefore, fairest Leonora, but with a lov● so tempered with respect that you in reason, ought 〈◊〉 to hate me for it, though I have taken the confidence 〈◊〉 discover it. But, how is it possible to die for your sak● and service, and not proclaim it to the world, or ho● can you deny to pardon him this crime, whom you wi●● have so little time to chide. 'Tis true, having so fai● a cause, as you are, for my death, it proves a reco●● pence not to be deserved, but by a thousand service● which may perhaps make you regret I die so nobly. 〈◊〉 do not envy me this happiness, most lovely Leonora since you cannot deprive me of it, and since it is 〈◊〉 only favour I ever received from the hands of Fortune● who never can sufficiently reward your Merit but in raising you up servants, as much above my meaness, as all other beauties are below yours. I am not therefore so proud or vain, to hope the least sentiment of pity. 
I could proceed no further, my strength failed me of a sudden, the Pen falling out of my hand; my body not being able to obey the Dictates of my restless fancy; for otherwise, that part had been the least of what I had in my thoughts to thrust into the Letter, so much had Love and my Indisposition heated my heart and brain. I was a long time in a trance, not giving any signs of Life: Signior Stephano, who perceived it, opened the Chamber door, to ●end for a Priest At the same instant Leonora and her Mother came to visit me. They were ●nformed that I was wounded; and believing ●y the circumstances it was upon their quarrel, ●hough they knew themselves the innocent ●ause of this misfortune, yet they made no ●ruple to give me a Visit in the sad condition I ●ay My trance lasted so long, that they went ●way again before I recovered, being both very ●uch grieved, as you may conjecture, believing 〈◊〉 would end in death. They perused what I ●ad written, and the Mother more inquisitive ●●en her Daughter had also read some papers ●●at were scattered at my Beds-head, amongst ●hich there happened to be one from my Father ●arigvez. I lay a long time struggling betwixt ●●e and death; but at length, nature proved strongest, and in fifteen days after, I was out of danger, and so in six week's time, began to crawl a new about the Chamber. My Landlord often told me tidings of Leonora; and gave me an● account of her Mother's Charitable Visit, which bred an extreme joy in me, and though I wa● somewhat does satisfied that they had seen my Father's Letter, yet knowing they had read the other likewise it was enough to overbalance the trouble it put me into. I could talk of nothing but Leonora when ever Signior Stephan● and myself were in discourse together, and one day remembering how her mother had said, tha● he could inform me what she was, and why sh● resided in Rome, I entreated him to impart wha● he knew of her: He told me, she was called Madam De la Boissiere; and came to Rome with th● Ambassadors wife from France; where a People of Quality near related to the Ambassador, falling in Love with her, and she allowing of it they married secretly; and from their lawful but private embraces, sprung this Leonora: H● further related, that the Gentleman having had some controversy with the Ambassador Family, was thereby obliged to quit Rome an● retire a while to Venice with Madam Boissier● till the Embassy was over, and then having brought her back to Rome, furnished a house fo● her, and taken such order that she might live 〈◊〉 a handsome condition, he returned into Fran●● Wither his Father summoned him, but du●● not carry her, as knowing the match wou●● never be approved by his friends. I must confess I could sometimes have wished my Leonora had not been the Legitimate daughter of so great a person, that so her birth might have better corresponded with mine; yet than I recanted those criminal desires, and wished again her Fortune equal to her deserts, though these last thoughts tumbled me into a kind of despair; for loving her above my own life, I foresaw well enough, I never could be happy till I possessed her, though I should make her unhappy in my poor and wild condition. When I was perfectly recovered, and no sign of my late misfortune appeared, but only the paleness of my face, caused by the over much loss of blood; my young Masters returned from the Vinetians service, the Plague which raged in the Army, not suffering them any longer to remain there and exercise their Valour. Verville continued to love me still, as he had done before, but Saint Far did not then discover he hated me so mortally as I have since experimented. I made them a recital of all that had befallen me, excepting only my passion towards Leonora. They expressed an infinite desire to be acquainted with her, which I heightened by exagerating the worth both of the Mother and her Daughter. It is no policy to praise her we love, before those that may possibly become as much in love with the same person themselves, since affection oftentimes steals into the Soul as well thorough the Ear, as by the Eye, it being an oversight they too often repent of afterwards, that commit it; which I shall prove by my own sad experience. Saint Far every day asked, when I would go with him to Madam De la Boissiere; and one day importuning me very earnestly, I told him, I knew not whether she would admit him by reason she lived very retired. I perceive you love her daughter, said he, and then telling me he could find the way alone, began to urge me so much, that I was surprised, and appeared so concerned, that he discovered clearly, what before he only barely conjectured, which made him railly me so severely, as made Verville pity the condition I was in. He took me away from his uncivil brother, and made me walk with him to the Cours, where I was extremely perplexed, notwithstanding all the pains Vervil took to divert me. Mean time, his illnatured brother, was endeavouring his own satisfaction, or rather my ruin. He goes directly to Madam De la Boissieres, where they gave him entrance instead of me, being Trappaned by my Landlord's servingman whom he had chosen for his guide, as being well acquainted at the house; without which invention he would scarce have had admittance. Madam De La Boissiere was much surprised to meet a stranger there. She told Saint Far, that being unacquainted with him, she knew not to what she might attribute the honour of his visit. Saint Far without more ceremony told her, that having a young fellow in his service, who had been so happy to receive some wounds in their rescue, he was desirous to wait upon them. Having afterwards raved a long time according to his usual method, which pleased neither the Mother nor her Daughter, as I was afterwards informed, and those two ingenious women not willing to hazard the reputation of their wit, with one that seemed to have so little; the young fellow found but small pleasure in their conversation, whilst they grew more weary of his But that which most incensed him, was that he could not obtain the satisfaction of seeing Leonora unvailed, whatever plea or compliments he made, her face being covered all the time according to the Mode of Rome usual amongst persons of Quality unmarried. At last this gallant Gentleman, grew weary of importuning them, freed them from his troublesome Courtship, and returned to Signior Stephanos, having reaped but very little advantage to himself by the unworthy trick he put upon me. Ever after, as it is the nature of those brutish people, to continue mischievous against those they have wronged, he became so insolent, and disobliged me so frequently, that I would a hundred times have waved all respect towards him, had not his brother Vervills' goodness made me contain my anger, and endure his follies. I did not as yet know the slur he had put upon me particularly, though I several times found the effects of it. I perceived Madam De La Boissieres coldness indeed, had made her less respectful than at my first acquaintance; but yet there was so much civility still in her deportment, I did not think she was grown weary of me. As for Leonora she seemed very pensive in her Mother's presence, but when alone, my thoughts her countenance was more inviting, and her looks expressed somewhat of kindness. Destiny was thus relating his story, and the Comedians gave attentive ear to him, not seeming to have the least inclination to sleep, when the clock striking two, Madam Cave put Destiny in mind he was to accompany the same La Rappiniere that day to a house about two leagues out of Town, where they were to hunt. This made him take leave of the Company, and retire to his own chamber, where it is probable he laid him down to sleep, as the women likewise did, passing the remainder of the Night or early morning very quietly in their Beds, the Poet not being in Labour with any new Issue of his pregnant brain.   

CHAP. XIV.  
What befell the Curate of Domfront.  
THose that have had so much spare time to throw away, as to read the former Chapters, may remember, if they have not forgotten it; that the Curate of Domfront was in one of the Horse-litters, when four of them met together in the little Village, by an accident seldom heard of; Though as all the world will acknowledge four Litters may sooner meet together then four Mountains. This Curate than took up his lodgin at the same Inn with our Players, and having consulted with a Physician about the Stone and Gravel, who told him very Elegantly in Latin, that he was subject to that disease which he discovered to him before, and also having made an end of some other affairs of his own concern, which came not to my knowledge: This good Pastor, I say, went from the Inn, about nine in the Morning, to his own Flock or Sheep-Fold, and a young Niece of his, habited like a Gentlewoman, whether she were so or not, sat in the forepart of the Litter at the good man's feet, who was very Short and Fat. A Country Fellow, by name William, guided the fore-horse by express order of the Curate, for fear the Horse should falter, whilst the Curates servingman, height Julian, took great care and pains with the hinder horse, who was so resty, that trusty Julian was often forced to thrust him forwards with his shoulders by main strength. The Curates Chamber-pot being of Copper and Glistering like Gold, as having been newly scoured at the Inn, was fastened to the right side of the Litter, which made it look much more trim than the left side, that was only adorned with a pasteboard hat-case, which the Curate had taken up of the Paris Messenger for a Gentleman and friend of his, who boarded with him at Domfront. About a League and half from the Town, as the Litter was jogging on, in the midst of a deep Road fenced on either hand with a very thick hedge; three Horsemen seconded by two Footmen, made the venerable Litter stand. The one of these, who seemed to be Captain of these Padders, said with a surly voice; SH' death, the first that mumbles one word I'll pistol him, and presented the muzzle of one within two inches of poor William's forehead who led the Horselitter; a second did the like to Julian, when one of the Footmen levelled at the Neene, who all this while slept very sound in the Litter, never dreaming of the danger, and by consequence not frighted like the rest of the pacific train. These Villainous fellows drove along the Litter, with more haste than the dull Jades were willing to make, and never was there a greater silence kept, where so much violence was offered. The Curates Niece was rather dead then living, William and Julian wept, but durst not speak a Syllable, and the Curate as I should have told you, slept as sound as his Niece. One of the Horsemen leaves the gross of the party, and gallops away before. In the interim, the Horse▪ Litter was driven into a Wood, and no sooner in, but the fore-horse, perhaps as much frighted as he that guided him, or else out of pure spite, because they forced him to go faster than his dull nature had a mind too; this poor Horse I say, sets his foot in a hole, and stumbles so rudely, that Master Curate was awakened, and his Niece thrown out of the Litter, upon the lean Jades scraggy crupper. The good man calls to Julian, who durst not reply for his life; then he calls upon his Niece, who had somewhat else to do, then listen to him, William was as hardhearted as the rest; so that the Curate was angry to purpose. Some hold that he swore by his Maker; but I shall not so easily believe that of such a Curate. The Curates Niece having raised herself up again from the hackneys crupper, sat down in her place again, but durst not cast a look on her Uncle, and the Horse having gotten upon his feet also, trotted away much swifter than before, notwithstanding, the Curate screamed out all the while with his effeminate voice, stop, stop. His loud bawling, scared the Horses, and made them run as if the Devil drove, and their running made him gape and squeak the louder. Sometimes he called: Julian, another time William, and many times his Niece; to whose name he often added the Epither of double Whore and Carrion. She might have replied indeed, if she now would, for he that had imposed that stoickt● silence, had left the Litter to over take and join with those that road before, about fifty ●●aces from thence; But the sear of the Carabine still kept her insensibly careless of her Uncle's exclamations, and opprobrious Epither●, which made him at last howl and cry out, help, and murder, finding them so obstinately rebellion. Thereupon the two Caveliers that road in the head of the party; having notice given them by the Foot men, returned back, to the Horselitter, and made it stand; and one speaking with an imperious tone, asked Williams, What fool is that that bawls so in the Litter? Alas! Sir, you know better than I, replied poor Will. The rugged Soldier runs the butt end of his Pistol into the peasant's teeth, and presenting the muzzle to the Niece, who was not used to play on such pipes, commands her to unmask, and tell him, who she was. The Curate now perceiving all that passed out of his Litter, and having a Suit in Law with a Gentleman Neighbour of his, name De , apprehended it must needs be he, that was come to murder him. Wherefore he began to call out; Monsieur de , I appeal to God Almighty, if you kill me, being a Sacred Priest, I will amongst the innocent sheep at his right hand, have you excommunicated to the left, with the Goats, and Ravenous Wolves. In the mean while, his poor Niece pulls off her mask, and discovered an unknown and affrighted countenance to the . This produced an unexpected event; For the choleric Gentleman discharged his Pistol in the Horse's flank, that carried the forepart of the Litter, and shot one of his Footmen in the head with another Pistol that hung at his Saddle, Saying, this you deserve for your false Intelligence. Then was the fears of the Curate and his small Retinue increased. He called for confession; Julian and William cast themselves down upon their knees, and the Niece crept close to her Uncle. But those that had put them in this affright, left them, and hasted thence with all imaginable speed, leaving none of the crew, but the dead man to keep them company. Julian and William risen up again, and trembling told, the Curate and his Niece, the Soldiers were gone. They unharnessed the hindermost horse to set the Litter upright, and Willy was dispatched away to a neighbouring Village for another horse. The Curate knew not what to think of the accident that had befallen him, nor could imagine wherefore they had brought him so far out of his way; left him again without robbing him, and killed one of their own company, which troubled him less than the loss of his own horse, who poor innocent creature, as he fancied, could not be guilty of any confederacy with that Villain. However he concluded still, it must be De , that meant to murder him, and therefore he resolved, to have satisfaction from him. His Niece maintained that it was not De , with whom she was acquainted; but yet the (urate would have it so, to make good an Indictment, trusting perhaps to some Knights of the Post of his Kindred's acquaintance at Goron. Whilst they were in the heat of this contest, Julian spies some Horsemen coming afar off, and ran away for fear as fast as his legs would carry him. The Curates Niece seeing Julian fly, thought he had reason for it, and soon followed after; which made the Curate lose all the little stock of reason he had left him, not being able to guests what Malignant Planets influence, produced so many extraordinary events. At last he saw the Horsemen that had made them run, and which was worse, saw them riding directly towards him. This small Squadron consisted of nine or ten Troopers, and in the midst was a Fellow bound, on a scurvy Jade, with a hanging look. The Curate falls to his prayers, recommending his own, and his horse's safety to providence; but he was both astonished and comforted at the same instant, finding it was La Rappiniere, and some of his black guard. La Rappiniere asked him, what he did there, and whether he had killed the man that lay dead by the Litter. The Curate gave him a full account of all passages, and concluded it was the  that had waylaid him, upon which lafoy Rappiniere made ample inquiry. One of Archers, or Guard, went to the next Villagers, to fetch off the dead corpse, and returned again with the Curates Niece, and Julian after due information, who likewise met with honest William, bringing a fresh horse for the Litter. The Curate returned to Domfront without any more obstacles, where as long as he lives, this story of his Adventures, shall be his Entertainment for all Strangers. The dead horse was eaten up by Crows, Wolves or Dogs; the dead man was buried I know not where, and Rappiniere, Olive, Rancour, and the Archers of the Guard, returned with their Prisoner to Manse. And so the success of the Players hunting with Le Rappiniere, was such, that they took a Man instead of a Hare.   

CHAP. XV.  
the Operatours' Arrival at the Inn. A continuation of the History of Destiny and Star.  
A SERENADE.  
YOu may be pleased to remember, that in the foregoing Chapter, one of those that set upon the Curate of Domfront, had left his com●pag none, and galloped I know not well whither. As he was spurring on amain in a deep and narrow way, he spied some horse trotting directly towards him, and would have wheeled about ●o shun the company, but turning too short, ●nd with more haste then good speed, his horse ●ise up so precipitately that he fell down backwards, and his Rider under him. La Rappiniere and his followers observing this, wondered, why a man that came with such Post hast ●owards them, should endeavour to avoid them ●ith the like speed. It gave them therefore ●st cause of suspicion, especially to lafoy Rappiniere, ●ho was very susceptible of his own nature, berdes that his office obliged him to make the ●orst interpretation of all such occurrences. ●●is suspicion increased, when coming near that ●ellow, who had one leg engaged under his horse's weight, he perceived that he was not so much dismayed at his fall, as that it was with such a witness; and as it could be no prejudice to him to make use of his suspicions, knowing his office better than any Provost in the Nation I mean experimentally, drawing night to th●● Fellow, he said; What, are you caught in a tra● to our hands, good Sir? Well I shall mount yo●● upon a Post-horse, that will not throw you th●● low in the dust, said he. This amazed the fellow much more than his fall had done, whil● la Rappiniere and his harpies, took notice of h●● countenance, and found so many tokens of guilty conscience apparent on his visage, th● one less forward than himself, would not ha●● let him pass unquestioned. He therefore commanded his men to assist him, who having lift him from underneath his horse, bound h●● both hand and foot, and so drove him in t●●midst of the Troop on his own beast. His soon afterwards meeting with the Curate Domfront in that disorder, you have read with a person murdered in the highway, a●● a horse shot thorough, confirmed him in his s●●mer suspicion of this Rascal, to which the cozeners greater disturbance, and change of lour was no small addition. Destiny surve● him more exactly than any of the rest, ima●ning he had some knowledge of him, wh● yet he could not perfectly call to mind. 〈◊〉 scratched his dull pate all the way he rod awake his drowsy memory, yet could not collect where he had seen him. At length, 〈◊〉 Arrived at Manse, where lafoy Rappiniere caused this pretended guilty fellow to be imprisoned. Whilst the Players, who were to Act the day following, retired to their Inn to take order that all things might be in readiness. They were reconciled to mine Host; and the Poet, who was as liberal as a true Poet indeed, would needs give them their Supper. Ragotin who was then in the Inn, and could not refrain coming ever since he was smitten with Madam Star, was known by the Poet, who was so much fool as to invite all those that had been spectators of the Combat, that was made the night before betwixt the Players and the Inn Keepers in their shirts and smocks. A little before the Supper began, the jolly company was yet increased by the Arrival of an Operator and his Train, which consisted of his Wife, an Old Black more-maid, a Monkey, and ●●o Footmen. Rancour was of his acquaintance 〈◊〉 a long standing,; and they saluted each o●●er very respectively, nor would the Poet, who as of an easy complying nature, part with him ●or his Wife, before he had engaged them, thorough his many high compliments, which found●● loud, and signified little, only to come and ●ace him with their noble presence and society Supper. Well, sup they did; where nothing ●ll out that is remarkable, only they eat hearti●● and drank proportionably. Ragotin fed his ●●●s on Madam Stars face, which intoxicated 〈◊〉 more, than all the Liquor he swallowed, ●●d spoke but very sparingly all the time they ●●e at Table, though the Poet started a subject that deserved his discourse, absolutely condemning all the Poet Theophiles Works, which Ragotin had ever cried up, and admired above others. The she Players held some conversation with the Operators Wife, a Spanish woman, and no way despicable. They afterwards withdrew to their Chamber, whether Destiny waited on them to prosecute and finish his History, which Cave and her Daughter were impatient to hear. Starr in the mean time was studying her part, and Destiny having taken a Chair by the Bed's side, whereon Cave and her Daughter lay Lolling, went on with his story after this manner.  

The Continuation of the History of Monsieur Destiny and Madam Starr.  
HItherto you have found me very Amorous and inquisitive to know what effects my Letter had wrought in Leonora's, and her Mother's minds; you shall now see me more in lov● yet, and so much more in trouble and perplexity, that I was the most despairing creature in the World. I went every day to visit an● wait on Madam Boissiere and her fair Daughter▪ So blinded with my passion that I did not observe the coldness of their reception, and les● remember that old saying, That familiarity bre●● contempt, as too often repeated visits become in portunate. Madam de la Boissiere was very wea●● of my frequent company, which eternally besieged them, and looked upon me coily, ever since Saint Far had so discourteously told her what I was, yet could she not with any justice or civility forbidden me the house, considering what I had done and suffered for her. And for her Daughter's part, if I may judge by what she hath done since, than I may truly say she pitted me, though contrary to her Mother's will, who kept so strict a guard upon her, that we could never have the opportunity to meet in private. But to say truth, though this fair Virgin would have been more favourable than her Mother, she durst no● give me the least token of it in her presence. So that I suffered most hellishly, whilst my assiduous endeavours made me more hateful, where I endeavoured to grow more in favour. One day Madam de la Boissiere received some Letters from Paris, which obliged her to go forth as soon as she had read the contents of them, she sent immediately for a Coach, and Signior Stephano to accompany her, not daring to go alone, after the unlucky accident wherein I was engaged. I was myself both more willing and fit to be her Squire, than the Fellow she sent for; But she would not accept of the least service from a person whom she intended to rid ●er self of. By good fortune Stephano was not to be found, so that she was compelled to bemoan herself in my hearing, that she had no body to go along with her, thereby to invite ●●e, which I accepted with as much joy, as she ●ould have regret to be necessitated to make use of me. I conducted her to a certain Cardinals who was then Protector of the French, who very kindly gave her Audience upon the first motion she made. The business must needs have been of some importance, and no little difficulty; for she was a long time with him in a private Grotto, or covered Fountain in the midst of a fair Garden, whilst all the Cardinal's Followers walked into those parts of the Garden they had most fancy too. Now was I gotten into a private, though large, walk of Orange Trees, alone with the Beautiful Leonora as I had often wished before in vain, and yet as modest and faint-hearted as ever I had been. I cannot tell whether she perceived it, or not, or whether I owed these first words to her own good nature, which made her addess herself to me in this manner. My Mother, said she, will have some reason to chide Signior Stephano, for missing her to day, and giving you this trouble to wait here so long. And I am infinitely obliged to him, replied I, for having unawares procured me a happiness above my hopes and merit. I am too far upon the score of obligation towards you, said she, too mit any thing that may prove your advantage, therefore pray let me know wherein the happiness consists, you mention, as procured by him, that I may share in the content, if it be such as will not offend a Maidens modest car. I am afraid, replied I, that you will think my words presumptuous, rather than immodest, and so tie up my tongue again before I have said all the great truth, I would fain discover. I, answered she, No, I am not so envious at any man's prosperity, to call it presumptuous, especially a person to whom I am indebted for my Honour and Protection. 'Tis not your envy that I fear, said I, but somewhat worse in my opinion. What other motive, replied she, can there be to make me oppose your happiness? Your disdam, said I. I shall be much perplexed, answered she, till you let me know what I should disdam, and how this disdain may concern you. I could soon unfold this riddle, said I, but I cannot tell whether you will be pleased to understand it. Do not let me hear it then, replied she, for when we have such doubts, it either signifies it cannot easily be understood, or, may displease. I confess I have admired a hundred times since, how I could answer this, my mind being more intent upon her Mother's return, and surprising us, then on the discourse we held. However at last, I called up all my confidence, and without more delay, I told her, without minding her last words; That I had long sought for an opportunity to speak with her, thereby to confirm what I had presumed to express in my Letter, which yet I durst not have undertaken, but on the knowledge that she had seen that writing. To this I added a great deal of what was in that scribble, and said moreover, that being now ready to go a Soldier in the War the Pope was making on some of the Italian Princes, and being resolved to die there, since I found myself unworthy to live for her, I would entreat her only to do me this last favour, to tell me what opinion she would have had for me, had my Birth and Fortune been equal to the ambition I had to love and adore her. She told me, blushing, That my death would be a real hearty sorrow to her; and therefore said she, if you are still the same obliging person, preserve yourself still so, and let us not lose a man that hath been so serviceable to us; or at least, if you will needs die, for some greater reason, than you have hither expressed, yet reprieve the sad doom till we are returned into France again, whither my Mother, and myself are suddenly going. I implored her to discover her thoughts more fully and clearly. But her Mother was by this time come so nigh, that she could not have satisfied me if she had intended it. Madam de la Boissiere looked upon me slightly enough, perhaps because she considered the conveniency I had had to entertain her Daughter in private, who likewise seemed to be somewhat troubled in her thoughts, which made me stay but a little while with them after their being returned home. I left them the most contented men in the World, putting the best interpretation and inferences on her discourse. The next day I omitted not to wait upon them according to my custom; I was told they were gone forth; nay the same answer was given me for three days together, and yet I could not refrain. In fine, Signior Stephano wished me to go no more, because Madam de la Boissiere would not suffer me to see her Daughter, and, said he, I think you have too much spirit to abide a personal refusal. Then he told me the reason of this ill treatment. Leonora's Mother had caught her writing a Letter to me, and having severely reproved her for it, did afterwards give a strict order, that her people should always deny their being within, when I came to pay my visit and respects to her; and then I likewise discovered the unhandsome trick Saint Far had put upon me, which was indeed the only cause of all these little affronts were made use of against me, my company growing loathsome to her ever since that unhandsome character was given of me. But though the Mother were thus nice, yet Stephano assured me, from Leonora's own mouth, that my deserts, made her wave my mean birth and fortune, and would have triumphed over her highest thoughts, could she have gained her Mother's fair consent, who was too haughty to be persuaded to such low submissions. I shall not trouble you, with the desperate thoughts, this unwelcome news put me into; I was as much concerned, as if Leonora had unjustly refused me, though I had little hopes, and less right to claim the least possession in her heart; I railed against Saint Far, and had some thoughts of sending a challenge to him; But in the end, considering how much I was obliged to his father and brother, I had no other refuge but my tears, to give my heart ease. I wept like an Infant, and became troublesome or ridiculous in all society. Then was I near the time of my departure thence, and that misfortune was embittered by the consideration that I must go away, and not take my last farewell to sweeten my tedious absence. We made one Campania in the Pope's Army, where I endeavoured all I could to end my days. But fortune opposed me in this, as she had done in all my other attempts. I could not meet with death the only thing I sought for, but I acquired a reputation which I sought not for, and that to such a high degree, it would have made me proud at any other time; Whereas I then could value nothing but the sorrowful remembrance of my dear Leonora. Saint Far and Verville were called into France again by their Father, who received them with all imaginable gladness and affection. My Mother gave me a very indifferent reception; and as for my Father he dwelled at Paris with Count Glaris, who had chosen him Governor to his son. The Baron D' Arques, who was made acquainted with my fears of Arms, in Italy, where I had saved Vervilles life, would needs have me abide with him in quality of a Gentleman. He gave me liberty to visit my Father at Paris, where I found less welcome, than I had done from my Mother. Any other person, that had had a son of my parts and experience, would certainly have endeavoured to have preferred him in the Earls Family; but my Father turned me out thence with as much haste as if it had been some discredit to him; he reproached my being too gallant, a thousand times as we went along the streets; told me I seemed proud, and that it would have been fit for me to have learned some handicraft's trade, than thus to flaunt with a sword. You may imagine this discourse sounded but harsh in a young man's ears, that had been well bred, and gained a more than vulgar repute by his valour; and who besides, had dared to love a handsome Lady, and make it known unto her. I must confess the knowledge of that respect due to a Father, nor all the ties of Nature could make me refrain from looking on him as an old testy troublesome person. He led me through three or four several streets, with the same civility and endearments, and then shook me off suddenly, forbidding me from coming near him any more. I was willing enough to obey this last injunction and therefore quitted him, to go and wait upon Monsieur De St. Sauveur, who received me like a Father indeed, and blamed my own Father for his unnaturalness, promising he would supply the care incumbent on such a Parent, and never abandon me. The Baron D' Arques had some business of importance which obliged him to go and dwell at Paris. He took Lodgings at the very end of Saint Germains Fauxburg in a very stately house, that had been lately built with many others, which together makes it one of the pleasantest places about the whole City. Saint Far and Verville, went often to the King's Palace, to the Courts De La Rhine, or their private Visits, as all young men of quality are wont, which distinguishes them from country-Gentlemen as much as any other character. And for my own part, when I waited not on them, I haunted all the Fencing Schools and play houses perpetually, which was perhaps one means to make me become a tolerable Actor. Verville took me aside one day, and confessed to me, he was hugely in love with a Gentlewoman that dwelled in the same street. He told me, she had a Brother, by name Saldaigne, who was as jealous both of her, and another sister under his tuition, as if he had been their husband, and moreover, he said, he had made no little progress in his Amours, having gained her consent to give him a meeting in their garden by night, the door of the garden looking towards the fields as that of our house did likewise. Having discovered this secret to me, he entreated me to accompany him, conjuring me to get as much as I could possibly in the Woman's favour that attended her. I could not reasonably refuse a man I was so vastly indebted too: So we went forth of our back door, about ten a clock at night, and were admitted to the Garden where the Mistress and her woman waited for us. The poor Innocent Lady, trembled like a leaf, and could not speak, Vervilles courage was but little better, the waiting woman was mute, and I who only came to accompany Verville spoke nothing neither, nor had any desire to twattle. At last Verville took hearty grace, and led his Mistress into a by alley, having first charged the waiting woman and myself to play the Sentries part, which, we observed so religiously, that for a long time we walked together without opening our lips or moving our tongues. At the end of our walk we met with the young pair of Lovers: Verville asked me aloud, whether I had Courted Madam Maudlin as the deserved: I replied, that I thought she had no reason to complain, no, in troth, answered the Lass, for as yet he hath not troubled me with a word; Verville laughed at her words, and assured Mandlin, that I was worth her conversation, though I were somewhat Melancholy by nature. Madam Saldagne, said likewise, that her woman was not to be despised, and thereupon they left us again, only bidding us be sure, that no body came to surprise them. I then prepared to have my ears grated by a waiting woman, whom I expected would now examine me about my wages, what acquaintance I held amongst the Chambermaids in that Parish, how many new songs I could sing, or furnish her in writing, and such other like trifling questions. After this, though I, she will discover the secrets and intrigue of the Family, and lay open her Masters and Ladies virtues, or defects, according as she likes the service she is entered into: For there are few servants that meet and do not slander or applaud their Masters, and tell what little regard they have either of their own Fame, or their servants wages unless they mistrust the Fidelity of the hearers, which makes them slatter more, and abuse them more grossly. But I was amazed at the discourse of one, that began thus, I conjure thee, thou dumb Spirit, to tell me whether thou art a Servant or not, and if thou art a Servant, by what rare Virtue thou hast refrained thus long, from slandering thy Master? To hear a Chambermaid speak so extraordinarily, surprised me much: and made me ask her, by what Authority she undertook to exorcise me? I perceive, said she, thou art a stubborn Spirit, and dost require a double conjuration. Tell me therefore Rebellious Spirit, by the Power is given me over all Proud and selfconceited Servingmen, tell me what thou art? I am a poor young fellow, replied I, that would fain be now a sleep in my bed. It will be no easy thing to sift thee out, pursued she; but yet thus much I clearly discover already, that thou hast little of a courtier in thee; for added she, should not you have first broken silence to me by an humble address, then have taken me by the Lily hand, shot a Legion of Amorous Bolts and Sentences, prated impertinently, struggled for a kiss, and attempted to storm my breast, till you had been beaten off with a sound cuff or two on the ear, as many kicks in the britch, and scratches over the nose, and then have returned home, with these scars of Honour, Love, and Fortune De la Guerre. There are some such maids in Paris, indeed, said I, from whom I should take all these little affronts, as favours, and bless the gentle cruel hands that gave them; but there are others too, that I should dread to look upon, for fear of dreaming asterwards of the Devil. What you hint said she, that I perhaps am one of those Scare-Crows; but good Master-Hard-To Please, or Master Sweet-Lips, do not you remember the old saying, that All Cats are grey in the dark. Yes, but replied I, we must not therefore venture to do that in the dark, whereof we may have cause to repent when the light appears But if I be handsome said she, what then? Then I have showed you less respect than you deserve replied I; for if your beauty be equal to the charms of your wit, you deserve not only common Courtship, but adoration, that is in a formal way, according to the modern rules. And could you serve a Lady according to the rules in fashion, Said she? Better than any man living replied I, provided I loved her. What's matter for that, said she, so she fancy you. Nay both must join Issue where I engage, replied I Well truly said she If we may judge of the Master, by the serving man, then hath my Mistress made no ill choice in Monsieur Verville, and that waiting-maid that could smite you, would have no little cause to be proud of her purchase. 'Tis not enough to hear me only, said I, you must see me too. I believe either may be better let alone, replies she. Here our conversation ended; For Monsieur Saldagn knocked aloud at the street door, which they made no overgreat haste to open, that his siister might have time to slip up into the Chamber. The poor Lady and her woman went away in such haste and disorder, that they had not the leisure to bid us adieu when they turned us forth of the Garden. Verville would needs have me go along with him to his Chamber, when we got home. I never saw a man so much in love, and so well pleased. He extolled the Wit of his Mistress, and told me, he should never be satisfied, till I had seen her. In fine, he kept me there all night, repeating every thing over and over so often, that I could get no time to sleep, till it was just break of day. For my own part, I admired to have met with such excellent witty discourse in a waiting maid, and I must confess I had a kind of an itching desire to see, whether she were handsome or not, though the memory of my Leonora, made me very indifferent towards all the good faces I had seen in Paris. Monsieur Verville, and I, slept till it was noon. As soon as he waked, he wrote to Madam Saldagne, and sent the Letter by his footman, who had carried several others, having a kind of correspondency with her Woman. This fellow was of lower Brittany of a very ill shape, and a worse brain. It came into my thoughts, when I saw him going, that if the party, whether Waiting Gentlewoman, or Chamber maid for I knew not which, whom I had entertained with discourse; should see him in that rugged shape, and speak with him a while, that certainly she would not mistake him, for the person that waited on Verville. This great sot did his message well enough for a sot, he found Madam Saldagn with her elder Sister; named Madam Lery, to whom she had imparted the affection she had for Verville. As he was waiting for an answer, they heard Monsieur Saldagan singing on the stairs. He was coming to his sister's chamber, who hastily conveyed the British Ambassador into a close-stool room; The Brother made no long abode, so the Britain was let out of the gun-room again. Madam Saldagn locked herself up in her Closet a while, to write an answer to the Epistle, and Madam Lery talked with the Bittain, whose conversation, I doubt proved but very dull. Her sister having ended her letter, released her from our clown, sending him back with a Ticket, wherein she promised to meet him that night at the same time and place as before. As soon as it was night, you may believe that Verville was ready to go to the place assigned. We entered the Garden, and I was appointed to the like duty, I had before performed with the same Gentlewoman, that talked so wittily. She expressed more wit this second time, than she had at first, and both her accent and manner of speech was so taking, that I hearty wished she might have a face as beautiful, as her tongue was charming. In the mean while, she could not believe me to be the Letter-carrier she had seen, nor could imagine why I should have so much more judgement by night then by day: Which I imposed upon her, for having heard the fellow relate the passage of Monsieur Saldagnes coming to the Chamber, when he was fain to be thrust in a corner, I played upon her with it, teling her that I was not then in so much fear for myself, as for Madam Saldagne. This put it but of all dispute that I was the same ill favoured Rogue, and I observed that afterwards, he began indeed, to treat me Chambermaid ●ike. She than told me, that Monsieur Saldagn was a terrible man, who having lost both Father and Mother in his youth, being very rich, and having only a few of his Kindred, he exercised 〈◊〉 great deal of Tyranny over his sisters, to make them become Nuns, treating them, not only like an unjust Father, but rather like a hare-brained jealous husband. I was about to take my turn, and tell her a story of the Baron Dr Arques, and his children, when the garden door which we had not bolted, was thrown open, and in comes Monsieur Saldagn with two Footmen, the one carried a lighted Torch in his hand. He came from a house which stood in the same row, where they gamed every day, a place frequenced by Saint Far, They had both played there that evening, and Saldagn having soon lost his money, was coming home by his back door, contrary to his custom, and there surprised us, as I told you, finding the gate unshut. We were at that time all four of us together in a covered walk, which gave us opportunity to shun his sight. The Gentlewoman remained there upon pretence of taking the fresh Air, and to give it the better Colour, began to sing, though against her will, as you may easily believe. In the interim Verville having scalladoed the wall, jumped down; But a third footman, that was but coming in, seeing him leap, failed not to run and give his Master notice, he had seen a man leap down the Garden wall as he came in. At the same instant I fell down back wards with a great noise of stones and rubbish, which Verville having loosened at his first going over, broke down and brought we with it on the Earth. This noise together with the fellows tale, alarmed all those that were in the garden; Saldagn hastens to the said place followed by his three men, and spying a man with his sword drawn, (for as soon as I could get up I put myself in a posture of defence) he sets upon me at the head of his company, I soon made him know, I was no easy Conquest; the fellow that carried the Flambeau advanced further than the rest, which gave me the benefit of seeing Saldagnes face, whom I soon knew to be the same French man that would have murdered me at Rome, for having hindered him to act his rudeness on Leonora, as I before related. He remembered me likewise at first sight, and making no doubt, but I was come thither to take my just revenge, he cried out, you shall not escape me this time I assure you, and then I was hardly beset indeed, besides that I had almost broken one of my legs with my fall. I still retreated as I put by their thrusts, till I was gotten to a little Summer-house, whither I saw Vervilles Mistress run in before in a woeful condition. She kept within it, though she sa●●e enter, whether she wanted time or courage to go forth I know not. For my part, it increased my resolution, finding they could attaque me only before, the passage being but narrow and the door less. I wounded Saldagn in one of his hands, and his bold footman in his arm, which made them give me a little more respite: Yet could I not have any probable hopes of making an escape; believing they would at last bethink themselves of making shorter work with the Pistols, they usually have in such houses, than they had made with their swords; But Verville came to my relief; he would by no means go home without me, and having heard the noise and bustle we made with our swords, he ventured to bring me off from the peril he had cast me into, or at least participate with me. Saldagne with whom he had made some acquaintance, thought he came to his aid as being a neighbour and a friend. He thought himself highly obliged and said, You see Sir, how I am set upon in my own house, Virville, who apprehended him, immediately replied, He would be his servant against any man whatever, excepting this same. Saldagne, enraged to find himself deluded, swore desparately, he did not doubt but to make his party good against two such Traitors himself, and at the same instant charged Virville most furiously, who defended himself with a great deal of Gallantry. Then went I forth of my Summer-house to join with, and assist my friend, and just meeting with the Fellow that carried the Flambeau, I was loath to ki●● him, but I gave him such a slash over the pate, that it frighted him, and made him run off from the spot, into the fields, crying out, Thieves, Thiefs. The rest of the Footmen fled likewise; and as for Saldagne, I saw him fall into a hedge at the same instant that the light left us, either wounded by Virville, or upon some other accident. We did not think it necessary to look after him any more, but minded our own escape with all the hast we could. Saldagnes Sister, whom I saw, knowing her Brother's rash and violent humour, stepped to us, and begged of us softly, and with many tears, that we would take her along too. Verville was over-joyned to have his Mistress in his own Power and Protection. We found our garden door half open as we left it, nor would we make it fast as yet, lest we should have a new occasion to go forth again of the sudden. Within our own Garden, there was a little pretty Summer-House painted and nearly adorned; where they did sometimes eat in hot weather, standing at some distance from the body of the Great House. My young Master and myself, did sometimes practise our fencing there, and this being the delightfullest place about the House, the Baron d' Arques, his Sons, and I, had each of us a Key, that we might go in at pleasure, and keep our the Servants, lest they should make havoc of the Books, and other choice things that were there. In this place we locked up our Gentlewoman, whose grief was above our consolation: I told her, we would only leave her a few moments to secure and order things, as the necessity of the accident required, and then immediately return again Verville was a long time waking his Footman, who had been debauching himself. As soon as he had, gotten a Candle lighted, we consulted a while where we should bestow Saldagnes Sister; at last we resolved, to lead her to my Chamber, in the upper part of the house, as being frequenced by no body but myself, and a Servant that belonged to me. We returned back to the Summer-House in the Garden with our light. Verville gave a great shriek at his going in, which mightily surprised me. I had not the time to ask what ailed him; hearing some voices just at the door, when I put out the light. Verville called out, who goes there? His Brother, Saint Far, Answered; It is I, what the Devil do you here in the dark, at this time of night? I am talking here with Gariguez, said Verville, because I am not yet sleepy. The same reason brought me hither too, replies he, therefore pray eve me in this room a while to myself. We did not trouble him to ask twice; but I stealing out the Lady as dexterously as I could, and thrusting myself betwixt her and Saint Far, who went in at the same time, carried her away to my Chamber, bemoaning herself infinitely, and then I went down to Vervilles room where his man was striking a light. Verville then told me, with a sad countenance, that he must of necessity return once more to Saldagnes: and what will you do there, said I, kill him outright? Ha' my poor Gariguez, said he, I shall be the most unhappy man in the world, if I do not get Madam Saldagne out of her brother's clutches. And can she be there still, replied I, and in my chamber too? would she were so safe, said he, sighing. Surely you rave replied I. No I neither rave nor dream, said he; We have brought away her elder sister instead of her, said he? why, replied I, were not you both in the Garden together? nothing's more certain, said he, and why will you return thither to endanger yourself afresh, said I? since she that was in the garden with you, is now safe in my Chamber: Ha' Gariguez, cries he again, I know what I saw: and so do I likewise, said I, and to prove your mistake, do but come up, and see Madam Saldagne, whom I have secured. He told me I was an ass and came after me with the greatest trouble in the world. My astonishment was no less than his grief, when I found the Gentlewoman in my Chamber, not the same I saw and brought from the other house. Verville was as much amazed as myself: but more satisfied by far, knowing this to be his Mistress contrary to expectation. He then confessed his own mistake, but I could make no answer, as not able to comprehend by what Magic one Lady whom I had seen and followed all the while, should be transformed to another whom I never beheld till now, and all this in the time we went from the Summer house to the Chamber. I looked earnestly upon Vervills' Mistress, and was certain she was not the same, that I brought with me from Saldagnes. Verville seeing me so attentive, what's the matter, says he; I confess again, that it is myself was mistaken. Nay it is I, rather, am deceived most, if Madam Saldagne came along hither with us, said I: With whom could she come else, replies he? I know not, nor no body else, said I, unless she discover it herself. Nor can I tell, with whom I came myself, said she, unless it were with that Gentleman, pointing to me, for it was not you Monsieur Verville that brought me off: It was a man, that came into the Garden, immediately after you went first out of it; summoned there I suppose either by my brother's means or the foot men's outcries, which alarmed him no doubt, and gave him notice of what had passed. He caused my brother to be carried into his Chamber, and my wating-woman, having related this to me, and assured me he was of my brother's acquaintance, and a neighbour as she perceived by his discourse with the servants; I went and stayed for him at the Garden door, where I conjured him to take me away with him till the next day, that I could find conveniency to retire to an acquaintance of mine, where I would stay till my brother's fury was over, which I told him I had reason to dread above all the things in the world. This person very civility proffered to conduct me whither I would, and engaged to protect me from my brother's wrath, to the utmost of his power. Under his conduct I came to this house; where I heard Verville, whose voice I knew, speak to the same party, and immediately after I was brought up to this same chamber where you now see me. This relation of Madam Saldagnes, though it did not clear all my doubt, yet it discovered so much, that it made me guests how it was brought about. As for Vervills' part, he was so busy in gazing upon his dear Mistress, that he scarce minded what she said. He began to Court her with a many fine expressions, never examining how she came thither. But I took a Candle, and leaving them together, went back to the little Garden-house, resolving to speak with Saint. Far, though he should be as captious as ever. But I woudred, in stead of him, to find the same Gentlewoman there, whom I was certain I brought myself out of the next Garden, and that which increased my wonder, was to see her in as much disorder, as if some violence had been offered to her; her head attire torn off, and her night handkerchief bloody in some parts of it, as her face was likewise. Verville, said she, as soon as I appeared, Do n●t come near me unless it be to take away my life: I shall approve that much better, than a second attempt upon my honour. And as Heaven hath given me strength to resist thee hitherto, so I doubt not, but I shall be able to scratch thy eyes out, if I cannot move thy heart. Is this the Noble, the Passionate Love you professed towards my Sister? O how dear does my compliance with her follies cost me? but when we act the things we should not, it is but just we should feel the smart of what we ever most abhor. But what dost thou now meditate; pursued she, perceiving my astonishment: Dost thou repent thy baseness, if thou dost it hearty, I can as readily forgive thy violence. Thou art but young, and it was my own weakness tempted thee, by putting myself into the hands of so unfit a Guardian. Convey me therefore, to my brothers again, I do conjure thee, though he be never so rash and severe, I dread him far less, than I do thee, who art a mortal enemy to our Family, not sattisfied with seducing a young Lady, and murdering a brother, unless this barbarous act complete the crime. Having said this, which was uttered with great vehemence, she fell a weeping so bitterly, that I never saw one so afflicted. This I confess, made me forfeit all the little wit and judgement I was I was till than Master of amidst so much confusion, and if she had not ceased of her own accord to speak, I never should have interrupted her, so much was I astonished, with her complaints, and the positive accusation she charged me so sharply with. But then, I made reply, and said, Madam, Neither am I Verville, nor will I ever believe, he can be guilty of such an unhandsome action, as this you mention; What, said she, Did I not see you engaged with my brother, did not a Gentleman come to your assistance; and did not you bring me hither at my entreaty, where you have offered at such rudness, as was unbecoming both yourself and me? She could say no more, so much her growing grief oppressed her heart. For my part, I was never in the like perplexity, and could not apprehend, how she should both know Verville and not know him at the same time. I told her as for the ugly violence she complained of, 〈◊〉 was utterly ignorant of it, and since Monsie●● Saldagne was her brother, I would conduct her if she pleased, to the same place where her sister now was. Just when I had spoken this, I spied Verville and Madam Saldagne coming into the room where we were, his Mistress being absolutely resolved, to go back again to her own Lodgings, but how this dangerous freak came into her head I know not. The two sisters embraced each other, as soon as they met, and began to renew their flowing tears abundantly Verville earnestly entreated them to return to my Chamber, laying before them the difficulty of getting into their house at that unseasonable time; adding withal their brother's present sury; the safety of the place they were in; and how near it was to break of day, which being once come, they would inquire how all things went, and accordingly they might resolve to remain, or go otherwhere as should be found convenient. Verville soon persuaded them to condescend to this proposition, the two sisters being now somewhat more secure in one another's presence. We walked up to my Chamber, where having examined the strange events that had occurred, we were as apt to believe, as if our eyes had been witness, that it was Saint Far had attempted Madam L●ry infallibly, Verville and myself, knowing him capable of the like and worse actions. We were not deceived, in our conjectures; Saint Far had been gaming in the very same house where Saldagne lost his money, and passing by the Garden a little after the scuffle was over, he met with Saldagnes Footman, who told him what had befallen his Master, whom he swore had been set upon by eight or nine Thiefs, thinking thereby to excuse his own cowardice, in running from the Fray. Saint Far thought himself obliged to proffer his service to his Neighbour, and did not leave him, till Y. e had helped him into his bedchamber, after which he met Madam Saldagne at the Garden door, Who entreated him to carry her somewhere in safety from her Brother's fury, which caused him to conduct her, as we had done her Sister. He intended therefore to secure her in the same place we had designed for the other, as you may have read before; and being as much afraid lest we should discover his Lady, as we were careful he might not see ours, the two Sisters by this accident, meeting together, just as he was coming in, and we going out; I happened in the dark to catch his Lady by the hand, whilst he laid hold by a like mistake upon mine, and thus the women were exchanged. Which was the easilier done by reason it was very dark, and they so terribly affrighted at the late accidents, they knew not what they did in the hurry. As soon as we had left her in the Garden-house, Saint Far, finding himself alone with a very lovely Lady, and having more instinct than reason, or to describe him in his natural colours being indeed a very beast, he takes advantage of the opportunity, never minding the consequence, or what an irreparable affront he offered to a Lady of Quality, that had thrown herself into his Arms for protection. His baseness, though received its due reward; Madam the Lery defended herself like a Lioness, bitten him, scratched him, and tore his hair and face. After all which, he only went up to bed, and slept as sound, as if he were the innocentest creature in the World. You cannot perhaps conceive how Madam Lery should come into play, not being with her Sister in their Garden at the time we were surprised, for as I before related, there were none besides Madam Saldagne, and her Waiting-woman, my Witty Compagnon. This was a riddle to me likewise; But at last it was unfolded thus, Madam Saldagne, not daring to trust any other, but her own sister with the secret and management of her Amours, had persuaded her to attend under the notion of a waiting-woman, and this was the she I had conversed with under the Title of Maudlin. Here my wonder was at an end, how a Chambermaid should attain to so much wit and divertive Fancies, as I found in her entertainment, and she told me she was no less puzzled to hear me answer so handsomely by Night, and find me so sottish by day, when she mistook the dull Britain to be the same, which she was now convinced of. Ever after that, we had some concern, above a bare esteem for one another, and I dare avouch, that she was no ●esse satisfied than I, to find our conditions more equal, then if either of us had been a mercenary servant. The day appeared while we were yet talking together, we left our Ladies in my Chamber, where they might sleep if they would, whilst Verville and I went to consult, what was next to be done. For my part, having no love fancies to disturb my brain, as Verville had, I died almost for want of sleep; but there was no appearance I should forsake so noble a friend, ●n so great a straight. I had a Footman Master of as much wit and subtlety, as Vervilles dull Rogue wanted. I gave him what instructions I could, and sent him to make discovery how affairs stood at Saldagnes. He followed my orders very exactly, and brought us this fair account, that Saldagnes servant reported, the Thiefs had desperately wounded their Master, but as for the sisters, there was no more mention of them, then if there had never been any such alive, whether it were out of his neglect of them, or by his express order, to stifle such disadvantageous rumours. I see here must be something of a Duel after all this, said Verville; And perhaps somewhat worse, replied I, whereupon I discovered that Saldagne was the same Hector that intended to Murder me so basely at Rome, and how we came to know each other at the beginning of the bustle; and said I, If he does but imagine, as there is reason enough, that I lay there in wait to take my revenge of him, then certainly, he cannot at all suspect the intelligence betwixt his Sisters and you. I went to give an account to those fair Ladies of what we had learned, and in the mean time Verville visited Saint Far, to discover his business, and find out the truth of our Suspicions. He soon perceived his face was sound clawed. But whatever question VERVILLE propounded, he could get no other answer but only, as he came from the Gameing-House, he found SALDAGNES Garden door open, his House in an Uproar, and himself very much wounded, whom he caused to be laid in his bed. A very strange accident, says VERVILLE no doubt but his Sisters will be hugely afflicted: They are very handsome Ladies, and I must go and give them a visit.  
What is that to me? says this bruit, who fell a whistling, not minding or giving any reply to what ever his Brother afterwards desired to know. VERVILLE left him and returns to my Chamber, where I was employing all my eloquence to comfort the distressed Damsels. They even dispaired, and apprehended the greatest severity from their brother's jealousy, a man wholly enslaved to his passions. My servant brought them some Meat from the next Cook; which he was constantly employed in for fifteen days together, so long were they concealed in my quarters; not being all that while discovered, my chamber being above the rest, and so much out of the common road and passage, that no body disturbed them in the ●east. They could willingly have put themselves into some Nunnery for shelter, had not they feared their Brother would have confined them Eternally to that melancholy life, after so strange an accident. In the interim SALDAGNE was healed of his Wounds, and Saint FAR, as we observed went every day to visit him, VERVILLE went not out of my Chamber, which was not taken much notice of in the Family, he ●eing want to pass many whole weeks in his Study, or in discourse with me. His Love grew every day greater for Madam SALDAGNE; and she loved him no less: I was not very unwelcome to her Elder Sister, nor did I entertain her civility with indifferent thoughts. Not that my passion towards LEONORA abated any whit; But there was little to be expected from her, and though I might have obtained her, yet should I have made some scruple to have brought her so much beneath her Birth. A while after, VERVILLE received a Ticket from SALDAGNE, wherein he gave him notice that he waited for him with a second to decide their quarrel by the Sword, and in the same Ticket, he entreated VERVILLE to bring no other but myself against him, which made me suspect, he intended to take us both in the same Trap. This suspicion had foundation good enough from the former experience of his Treachery; but VERVILLE would not countenance me in it, resolving to give him any just satisfaction, and to proffer a marriage with his sister. He sent for a Hackney Coach, though there were two belonging to their Family. We went too the place appointed by the Message, where SALDAGNE waited for us, and where VERVILLE was much astonished to find his own Brother, seconding his Enemy. We omitted neither submissions nor entreaties to bring all things to a fair composure, but nothing less the● fight would serve the turn of those two irrational men. I was about to have confessed to Saint Far, how much it was against my will to draw a Sword against him; He told me roundly, that ●e had never cherished any kindness for me, ●or could any thing endear me to him, till he opened a passage or two with his Sword's point, ●or his good will to enter at. With these words ●e came fiercely towards me: I only put by his thrusts for some time, resolved, if it were possible, to disarm him, though not without manifest danger to myself. Fortune befriended ●●e therein, for he slipped down at my feet, I ●ave him time to rise, and that which should ●ave made him become my friend, increased ●is Enmity. In fine, having given me a slight ●rick in the breast, he vapoured like a Welch ●an, and said, I think you feel me now; with ●o much insolence and pride, that I quite lost ●y patience; This made me press upon him, ●nd having put him into some disorder, I got 〈◊〉 happily within his Weapon, that I seized ●n the Hilt. The Man, you have so little love ●ove for, said I, will give you your Life, Sir. ●e struggled a while most unseasonably, and ●ould not reply a word, like an unworthy rash ●erson as he was, though I admonished him, 〈◊〉 go and part his Brother from Saldagne, who ●ere grappled and rolling over one another ●on the ground. But I perceived I must be ●ore rough, and therefore wrenched his hand ●●d forced away his Sword, which I threw a good distance from us. I ran immediately to assist Verville, who was closed with his Antagonist. When I came near, I saw afar o● several Horsemen galloping towards us; Saldagne was soon after disarmed, and at th● same instant I felt myself wounded in th● back by Saint Far. This made me throw a● side all the respect I had for him, and retu●● him a thrust that made no little wound. Th● Baron his Father coming in at that instant, an● seeing me make the thrust, did now hate m● the more, for having loved me so much fo●●merly. He spurred his Horse up towards m● and stroke me on the head. Those that cam● with him followed his example, and jointure set upon me. I defended myself most happily from them all; but must needs at la● have fallen a sacrifice to this Multitude, 〈◊〉 Verville, the most generous friend on Earth had not thrust himself, betwixt them and m● at his own Peril. He gave his own Footman good out over the pate, because he found hi● more forward than the rest, to get his Maste● Applause. I yielded up my Sword to th● Baron, but that could not appease him he called me Rascal, and ingrateful Villain and all the injurious Names his Choler furnished his tongue withal, even so far, as 〈◊〉 threaten to have me hanged. I smartly replied, that as much Villain as I was, I h●● given his Eldest Son his Life, when it l●● at my mercy, Nor had I offered to hu●● him in the least, till he had too much provoked me to it, and wounded me unhandsomely behind, whilst I was busy in parting ●he other Combatants. Verville maintained ●hat I was in the right, but he said he would ●ever see my face again, Saldagne went in●o the Baron's Coach, which they had brought ●or Saint Far, and Verville, who would by no ●eans leave me, took me into another with himself. He set me down at one of our Great ●ens Houses, where he had many friends, and returned to his Fathers soon after. Monsieur ●aint Sauveur sent a Coach for me that very ●ight, and carried me privately to his own ●ouse, where he had as much tender care of me, 〈◊〉 if I had been his only Son. Verville came to ●e me the day following, and told me his Fa●●er had been informed of the challenge by ●●ldagnes Sisters, whom he happened to find in ●y Chamber. He likewise assured me with a ●●eat deal of Joy, that the business was ta●●n up by an agreement of a double Mar●●age to be consummate as soon as his B●o●●ers wounds were healed, who was not hurt 〈◊〉 any mortal part; That it lay in my power 〈◊〉 be made friends with Saldagne, his Father's ●●ger being appeased, who was very sorry he ●●d misused me. He added, his hopes of 〈◊〉 sudden cure, that I might be a sharer 〈◊〉 their Joy; But I replied, I could not find 〈◊〉 my heart to stay in a Country, where I ●●s subject to be reproached with the meanness of my Birth and Fortune, but would suddenly leave that Kingdom, either to lose my life in some foreign Service, o● raise myself by my Sword to a condition proportionate to the sentiments of Honour his Noble Example had inspired me with. believe my resolution troubled him; But on that is so much in love as he was then, can not mind any thing long but his overruling Passion. Destiny was thus going on with h● story, when they heard the report of a Pee● in the street, and presently after one playing upon a pair of Organs. This kind of Music● never perhaps before, used in the street, calle● all those People in the Inn to their Window that had been waked with the Gun. Th● Organs played on, and those that were n● strangers to such Instruments, perceived it 〈◊〉 be a Church Tune. No body could apprehended the drift of so devout a Sevenade, whic● yet they knew not what to make. But th● doubt was soon resolved by two pitiful singing-men, the one squeeling out a triple par● to which the other roared as sad base: These two Catter-waulers making horrid a Consort with the Organs, as s● all the Dogs a howling round about. Th● Sung,  
Let our Charming Notes, and our Ivory Lutis,  
Ravish every soul, etc.  
With the rest of that Ditty. After these harsh notes: they over heard a third person reviling them for singing so Cuco-like always one Tune. The poor Choristers replied, they knew not what the Devil he would have them sing? sing what you will else, said he, speaking little louder, you must not think to come off thus, since I have hired you so dear. Upon this the Organs changed their Tone, and sung another zealous Anthem with the like skill. None of the hearers had yet spoken a word, for fear of interrupting their Melody; but at last Rancour, who could not tie up his tongue, though his life lay on it, bawled out aloud. What do they use to sing Divine Service here in the street? This shows a Zeal to some Tune, I'faith, says another. 'Tis a nightly Procession adds a third. They have robed some Chapel of the Organs, pursues a fourth, and are now singing their thankful Matins to the Devil their master. In fine, every one that looked our, had some merry saying or other upon this subject, none neither knowing or imagining who should be the simple Author of that ridiculous freak. Mean time the Music went along playing: When, such a Baggage is blind Fortune, nine or ten great Dogs, were sent by her to hunt after a proud Bitch, who taking shelter betwixt the Musician's Legs, to save herself from a rope, and these hot spirited Rival following her close at heels, and quarrelling as Rivals are wont to do for their Mistress, after some grumbling, snarling and grinning of Teeth; they fell together by the ears of a sudden, with so much fury and animosity, that the poor fellows to save their shins ran all away, and left their Engine to the mercy of the Dogs; whilst those immoderate Lovers were so uncivil, in the heat of their scuffle as to throw down the Harmonious Machine with the Frame that supported it, and I should be loath to swear that some of them did not lift up a leg and piss upon the Reverend Orgains when the Fray was ended, those creatures being extremely diuretic naturally; but especially when the smell of an Amorous Mistress tells them she is in a condition to proceed to the multiplication of her species. The Consort being thus discorded, mine Host made them open his door, and would needs secure the Organs and Frame from further mischief. Whilst he and his servants were doing their charitable office; The Organist returns to his Instrument, accompanied with three others, amongst whom were a Man with a Woman under his Cloak. This Man was the very Ragotin himself, who would needs bestow a Serenade upon Madam Star, and to that purpose had hired a little Eunuch, who was an Organist, belonging to the Church: And this was the Monster, being neither man, woman, nor Hermophodite, that Sung the triple part, and played upon the Organs, brought thither by a Maid; whilst a Chorister that had been twice mewed, sung Base, and all this for a brace of nine pences, so dear was every thing grown in that good Country of Maine. As soon as mine Host had found out who were the Authors of this rare Serenade, he spoke thus to him, so loud that every one of his guest heard it. 'tis you than, it seems, Monsieur Ragotin, that come with your Vespers to my Gate, it had been wiselier done to have kept your folly at home, then disturb my Guests at this time of Night. Ragotin replied, that he was mistaken in his man; but yet spoke it so, as if he intended to discover what he seemed to deny. But, infine, the Organist seeing his Instrument much impaired, being a Choleric creature, as all Beardless Animals are wont to be, swore to Ragotin that he should pay for the repairing of them. Ragotin replied, that he should laugh at that. It is no laughing business, said the Eunuch, I will be paid my Damages: Mine Host and his people gave their Votes for the Gelding: But Ragotin made them understand like ignorants as they were, that this was never the custom in Serenades, and so went away very proud of his Gallantry: The Musicians laid the burden on the she Porter's back, who carried them home to their Caponised Master's house, he, sad Creature, following her with the broken Frame; The Inn Doares were locked up again; DESTINY wished the Lady's good rest, pleasant Dreams, and a cleanly resurrection next morning, deferring the remainder of his story, to the next fit opportunity.    

CHAP. XVI.  
The opening of a Theatre, or Acting of a Play, with other things of no less Consequence.  
THe next day the Comedians met together, in one of those Chambers they had at the Inn, to rehearse the Comedy they were to Act that afternoon. RANCOUR, to whom ROGOTIN had already discovered the secret of his Serenade, which he seemingly made some difficulty to believe, told his Companions, that the little fellow would not fail to be there suddenly to receive their thanks and applause, for his so refined a piece of Courtship, and maliciously entreated them, that when ever he hinted it, they would take no notice of it, but put him off with some other discourse. RAGOTIN came into the Room at the same instant, and having saluted the Company in general, began to mention somewhat of the Serenade to Madam STAR, who proved at that time a mere wand'ring Star to her poor Love; still removing from place to place while ●he talked, but giving no answer to the many questions he propounded about the time of her going to bed, and the manner how she had passed over the last night. This made him leave her, and address himself to Madam ANGELICA, who instead of replying to him, repeated the Part she had to Act in the Play. He goes to CAVE next, but she would not afford him so much as one look. After this it came to the men's tune, who, every one of them, exactly observed what RANCOUR enjoined, and either answered nothing to his dull questions; or shot as wide from the Mark as if he had talked quite of another thing. At length being impatient to proclaim his vanity, he thus spoke aloud to them all. Will you give me leave to confess a great truth to you. You may do what you please, replied one: Why, then, said he, you must know it was I that gave you the last night's Serenade. What, do they give Serenades with Organs in the Country, said DESTINY? and to whom did you intent it? Was it not, pursued he, to the fair Lady that set the Dogs together by the Ears. No doubt, said OLIVE; for those quarrelsome Puppies would never have disturbed such Harmonious Musicians, had they not been Monsieur RAGOTINS' jealous Rivals. Another of the Company would needs have a fling at him too, and said without doubt he is highly in his Lady's favour, and means nothing but what is fair and honest, since he Courts in the open streets, nor can he choose but succeed, when his Voices and Instrument are a degree above howling. In fine, every one had a saying, except RANCOUR who spared him, being his Confident; and it is likely the Raillery had continued; if the Poet who was as Vain and Ridiculous an Ass as RAGOTIN, had not taken them off, by telling them; Now you speak of Serenades, I remember that when I was Married, I had one bestowed upon me, that lasted a fortnight together, it consisted of a hundred several sorts of Instruments, and ranged all over the Marets; The Greatest Gallants and Ladies of the Place Royal adopted it: Divers persons of Quality assumed the Honour of it, nay and a Great Man, that shall be nameless now, took such a fit of jealousy upon it, that he made his Servants set upon those that did it only for my sake. But they met with their Match; For these were all my own Countrymen, as brave Fellows as ever pissed against a Wall; and the most of them had been Officers of a Regiment I raised, in the last Rebellion of the Commons. RANCOUR, who had bridled his biting Tongue in favour of RAGOTIN, could not possibly forbear the Poet, whom he perpetually plagued; Wherefore he took up the Cudgels against this Darling of the Muses, and told him, that the Description he had made of this Fiction, sounded more of Bedlam or the procession of Rams-Horns, than any thing of Gallantry, and so probably importuned the Person of Quality rather to drive away the horrid noise of disturbing him then any thing else. And that which confirms this opinion, is the consideration of your Bride, who Expired of mee● Age, within six Months after this Hymeneal Serenade was over, as you term it, and therefore judge you Gentlemen of the Rarity of the story. Nay but she died of a fit of the Mother, said the Poet. It was rather a fit of the Great Great Grandmother, replied RANCOUR: For in the beginning of Harry the Fourth's Reign, she had grandchildren enough to have made up the Regiment you mentioned, and therefore surely there could be no spice of the mother left in her Thirty Years after, when she became your Superanvated Spouse: and to let you know, that I am better acquainted with her antiquity than you imagine, though you tell us such wonders daily, I shall now relate some particulars of her story, wherewith you were never yet acquainted. In the Court of Queen MARGARET. This beginning of a History drew all the Company in a ring about RANCOUR, they knowing him to be furnished with Memories choicer than all the world beside. But the Poet who dreaded him extremely, interrupted him, saying, I will wager a hundred Pistols on the contrary: which abrupt defiance, set all the company a laughing. Yet this was his constant custom, having no other shift but such like wagers to maintain his daily Hyperboles, which amounted to the weakly sum of a Thousand or Twelve Hundred impertinencies, besides the innumerable downright lies he vented into the bargain. Now RANCOUR was the Controuler-General as well of his Words as Actions, and the ascendent he had over him, was so great, that I dare compare it to the Genius of AUGUSTUS over ANTHONY'S, that is to say, like to like, not comparing the persons of a Brace of Country Commedians, with two such Famous Romans. RANCOUR, having thus began his History, and being interrupted by the Poet, as I related, was earnestly entreated by every one to proceed. But he excused himself for that time, promising a fit season to give them a faithful account of the Poets whole life, wherein his Wives should be likewise apprehended. It was now high time, to rehearse their parts, of a Play, which was to be Acted that same day in a Neighbouring Tennis-Court, nothing worth observation happened at the Rehearsal. After Dinner they Acted for good and all, and came off with applause. Madam STAR Charmed the Audience with her Beauty, ANGELICA had her Partisans too, and both of them gave the World a great deal of satisfaction in what they undertook. Destiny and his Comrades did wonderfully well, insomuch, that many who had seen the King's Players, attested they could hardly have Acted it better. Ragotin in his heart and mind, ratified the donative he had made of his Body and Soul to Madam Star, in presence of Rancour, who engaged he would bring him in favour with his Mistress: Without this promise, Dispair had soon made of this little Pitiful Advocate, the subject of some great Tragical Event. I cannot tell whether the Women pleased the Ladies of the Town in their Acting, so much as the Men pleased their own Sex: But if I did know the truth of it, I should hardly discover it: And since the wisest Man, is not always able to bridle his own tongue; I shall conclude this present Chapter, to avoid all occasions of further temptation on this subject.   

CHAP. XVII.  
The ill success of Ragotins' Civility.  
AS soon as Destiny had stripped himself of his old Embroidery, and put on his ordinary wearing Apparel, lafoy Rappiniere led him to the Common-Goal, because the Man they had taken, that day the Curate of Domfront was set upon in the highway, desired to speak with him. In the mean time the Actresses went home to their Inn, with a great Train of Citizens. Ragotin happening to be near Cave when she came forth of the Tennis-Court, where the Play was Acted, proffered her his hand to lead her to her Lodgings, though he would rather have waited on his Dear Star, he did the like to Angelica, so that he was Squire to the right and left. This double civility, begot a triple inconvenience, For Cave having the upper hand, as was fit, was crowded to the Wall by Ragotin, that Angelica might not be forced to walk in the Kennel: Besides, this little Dwarf, reaching no higher than their wastes, pulled down their hands so much, they could scarce keep themselves for tumbling over him: But that which most troubled them was, his often looking over his shoulder to stare upon Madam Star, who was talking to a pair of Fantastical Fellows, that would by all means lead her through the streets against her will. The poor Women endeavoured many times to get lose from their small Gentleman-Usher; But he gripped them so hard, their fingers ends tingled again. They entreated him often to spare himself that labour; He only answered them, your Servant, your Servant, (his ordinary Compliment) and gripped them still harder and harder. They were fain to be patiented therefore, till they came to the foot of their Chamber stairs, where they hoped to be set at liberty: But Ragotin was no flincher, repeating only your Servant, your Servant to all they could plead, he endeavoured at first to go up with them a breast, which he found not feisible; Then Cave turned her back towards the wall, and crept up side-long, dragging Ragotin after her, who haled up Angelica in like manner, she laughing all the while like a little fool. Now to make up the misfortune, when they were within five or six steps of their Chamber, down comes a man with a huge sack of Oats on his back, who with much ado, so heavy was his load, bids them go down again, for he could not turn about with his burden. Ragotin would needs dispute it; the Fellow bluntly swore he would throw down his Oats upon them. This made them go back again a little faster than they went up, but Ragotin would not let go his hold. The man with the Oats pressed hastily upon them, which caused Ragotin to miss a step, so that he hung in the air by the hand, it being out of his reach to the next stair, till he pulled down Cave upon him, who crushing him down with her weight, she lighted with her feet on the Pygmies belly and breast, ●nd knocked her head so fiercely against ●er Daughters, that they lay all three tumbling on the floor. The Fellow knowing they could not easily get up time enough, ●eing overwearied with his load, raps out ● great Oath or two, and let's fall his oats upon them, cursing and raving like an Ho●ler. The sack bursts open with the fall, ●ust when mine Host came in, who was ready ●o beat out the Hosters brains. But as he was mad at the Fellow, so the Fellow was ●s mad at the Women, and they as mad at Ragotin, who was as mad as the madest of ●hem all; because Madam Star, the Planet ●●e Adored, coming not far behind them, ●as witness of this mischance or disgrace that ●ad befallen him, not much inferior to the adventure of the deep crowned h●t, wherein his head was most unmercifully swallowed up, not to be recovered till a pair of Cissars broke the spell, and freed him from most eminent danger and torture, Cave took her great Oath, that Ragotin should never lead her again, and showed Madam Star how black and blue he had squeezed her hands. Star replied, that it was a just judgement for depriving her of her Servant, who had engaged himself in the morning to bring her home after the Play, and added, that she was glad of his fall, because he had broken his word. He heard nothing of all this; being troubled that mine Host threatened he should make good the damage of his Oats, having already beaten his man into the bargan, who miscalled Ragotin, Angelica then began to rally with him again, and handled him so severely that he plainly perceived Fortune did no● yet favour his foolish suit, so much as Rancour made him believe she would, telling him, he might shortly be assured to gain● her affection to that degree, as would ●n title him to more happiness, than any lover, in the whole Country of Main, nay and Laval added to it. The Oats wer● gathered up again, and the Gentlewomen went to their Chambers one by one, without any further misfortune. Ragotin did not follow them, nor can I say how th● disposed of himself. Supper time came and they made a merry meal after the sad mischance. Then such as had a mind to it withdrew, but Destiny locked himself into the room with the Ladies, to tell them the remainder of his story.   

CHAP. XVIII.  
The remainder of the History of Destiny and Star.  
DEstiny took his wont seat, and went on thus with his Relation. I shall finish my story as succinthly as I can possible, ●earing I have but tired you too much already with so unworthy an account of my ●fe, and fortune. Verville having given me 〈◊〉 Visit, but not able to persuade me to re●urn to his Fathers; He left me, very much troubled at the resolution I had taken, and ●ent home, where a while after he married Madam Saldagne, and Saint Far married Madam de Lery. She had as much Wit, as ●aint Far wanted, and I wonder how two ●f such unequal talents, could be yoked together in the same bonds of Matrimony. In the interim, I perfectly recovered, and the generous Monsieur de Saint Sauveur, approving of my design to leave the Kingdom for some foreign Employment, furnished me with money for my Voyage, and Verville who did not forget me amidst his hymeneal joys, presented me with a very good Horse, and a hundred Pistols in Gold I took my Journey towards Lions to pass● into Italy, with an intent to go once mor● to Rome, and after my last farewell from Leonora, expose my life in Candy, having already lived too long thus unhappily. A● Newers, I lodged at an Inn which stood near the River. Coming thither very early and not knowing how to spend my tim● till supper were ready, I went to diver myself upon the Great Stone Bridge th● lies cross the River of Loire. There were couple of Women walking over at the sam● time, whereof the one being sick leaned o● the others shoulder, as not able to go with out a supporter. I saluted them on passant and walked some time on the said Bridge being taken up with the thoughts of m●● misfortunes, and my Amours. I was we●● enough clad for a Traveler, my habit ●●ther speaking me a Gentleman, than a Vagabond. When I came near the Women, overheard one of them say; For my part should believe it were he, had we not hea● he were dead. I cannot tell how I came look about, having no reason to think they spoke of me; and yet I was the subject of their discourse it seems: For I presently found the sick Lady was Madam Boissiere, grown very pale and wan, who rested upon her daughter's shoulder. This made me go directly towards them, with more confidence than I had done at Rome, having somewhat improved myself in my carriage during my late abode at Paris. It put them to such a fright and amazement, that I verily believe they would have fled from me, had Madam de la Boissiere been able to run, and this surprised me no less. I asked them what happy star brought me to the presence of two persons whom I esteemed above all the World. This dispelled their fears, and Madam de la Boissiere told me, I need not wonder to see them so astonished; since Signior Stephano had showed them a Letter from one of the Gentlemen I waited on at Rome, wherein was related how I was slain in the War against Parma, but, added she, I am overjoyed to find that news was so false, which hath been so unwelcome to those that respect you, as I have reason to do. I replied, that death was not the greatest misfortune could happen, since I was now going to Venice to Court it, as my only remedy. They grew sad at these words, ●nd the Mother began to express a great deal of tenderness towards me, which I knew not how to interpret. At last she discovered the ground of this civility; she found me in a capacity to serve her, and her condition required it; the case being otherwise now, then when she made her Grimasses at Rome. They had met with misfortunes which put them to a straight: For having turned all their House-hold-stuff into money, which amounted to a considerable sum; they parted from Rome with a French Chambermaid that had served them a long time, and Signior Stephano's Valet, a Fleming like himself, who would needs return to his native soil. The Fellow and Wench it seems loved each other enough to venture a Marriage, and yet their business was so private, that no body ever discovered the least spark of their mutual flame. Madam Boissiere being come to Roüane, went by water thence. At Newers she found herself so ill, that she could go no further. In the time of her sickness she was somewhat hard to be pleased, and her Maid more unwilling to endeavour it, than ever she had appeared before. One morning the Lass and her sweetheart were missing, and which was a great deal worse, all their money was missing too. Her grief increased her malady, and she was compelled to stay at Newers, till she could get a supply from Paris, which she expected, to proceed in her Journey. This adventure she related in short, and I led them back again to their Inn, being the same where I had taken up my quarters, where after I had brought them to their chamber, and stayed a while, I retired to my own, leaving them to their supper. For my own part, I could not eat a bit, but thought it long till I were with them again. I waited upon them, as soon as they had given me notice it was convenient, and found the Mother in bed, the Daughter receiving me with a countenance as sad, as it appeared joyful before; Her Mother's grief was increased, and that put me into a dumps likewise. We stared a while upon one another very wildly without speaking a word. At length Madam de la Boissiere shown me a Letter she had newly received from Paris, which made both her, and her Daughter Leonora the most afflicted couple in the World. She expressed this affliction by so great an effusion of tear, which made her Daughter weep so bitterly too, that it moved me so sensibly, I thought I could never express my sense of it enough, though I proffered them all I could possibly do for their assistance, with so much freedom as put them out of doubt of my reality. I am ignorant of the cause of your grief, said I; but if my life may contribute any thing to your relief, you may safely rely upon me: Tell me therefore, Madam, wherein I can serve you; Money I have if you want aught; and courage likewise to rescue you from the danger of an Enemy, all which I shall employ upon no other condition then only the satisfaction of doing you service. My countenance gave them so full assurance; that both my heart and tongue consented to this proposition, that it abated the over flowing deluge somewhat. Madam de la Boissiere gave me a Letter to peruse, wherein a Gentlewoman of her acquaintance advertized her, that a certain person, whom she named not, though I judged it to be Leonora's Father, was commanded to leave the Court, and had retired himself into Holland. So that this poor Lady was left in a strange Country, without either money, or the least hopes of getting any for her subsistence. I made a second proffer of the small stock I had, which might amount to about five hundred Crowns, and told her, I would wait upon her either into Holland, or any other corner of the World, she had a mind to go to. In fine, I fully assured her, she had retrieved in me, a person that would render her the services she could expect from the meanest Valet, by whom she should find herself respected and obeyed, as if I were her Son. I blushed extremely when I told her this: But I was not now so hateful as at Rome, when they denied themselves, and dwelled invisible, the fair Leonora appearing much more civil, the Mother less severe. At every proffer I made, she still replied, Leonora would be engaged to me: So that all was scored on Leonora's account, insomuch that one would have taken her Mother to have been only a waiting woman, that spoke in her Mistress' behalf: so great a truth it is the World respects people only according to their own interest. I left them very well satisfied, and got to my Chamber the most contented man that could be. The night passed over very happily, though I slept not at all, which kept me somewhat late in bed, being a little drowfie about break of day. Leonora tricked up herself with more curiosity than the day before, and could not but observe I had done the like. I led her to Mass without her Mother, who was as yet too weak to go abroad. We dined together, and afterwards were of one Family. Madam de la Boissiere acknowledged the services I rendered them, and vowed she would not die my debtor. I sold my Horse, and no sooner was the sick patient, recovered, but we took a little boat and went down to Orleans. During the time of our Navigation, I enjoyed my Leonora's conversation, and was not interrupted by her Mother. I found her wit, as sprightly and charming as her looks, nor had she reason to think mine so dull, as she found it at Rome, which made her take a greater delight in the discourse I often entertained her with. What can I say more, in short, she was taken as much with me, as I was captivated by her, and you may witness, ever since we have been here together, how little this reciprocal affection is diminished. What said Angelica, interrupting him, Is Madam Star that Leonora? Who else? replied Destiny. At which, Madam Star was pleased to say, her friend had reason to question whether she were that Leonora, whom Destiny had described so advantageously. It is not upon that account I start the question, replied Angelica; But we are ever most in doubt of what we most desire. Madam Cave, added, that for her part, she was confident of this from the beginning, but desired them to wave that discourse, till Destiny had completed his story; who went on thus. We arrived at Orleans, where our entrance was so pleasant as will deserve a particular Relation. A throng of fellows who always wait in expectation of strangers; at the Waterside, to carry home their Goods, crowded into our little Bark. There were at least Thirty that took up two or three little bundles betwixt them, which the weakest of those lazy Knaves might have carried singly under one arm. Had I been alone, perhaps I should not have been so wise as to have suffered their insolency. Eight of them lifted up a little box not weighing much above twenty pounds; which they seemed to hoist from ground with much trouble; and having got it betwixt them, they held it aloft above their heads, upon their finger's ends. The Rascality that stood by, fell a laughing, and we were glad to do the like: however it made me blush for shame to go all thorough the Town with such a retinue: For the rest of our baggage which would not have loaden one Porter, had twenty at least, my very Pistols being borne in state by four lusty rascals, two having each of them a Pistol, and the other two she Holsters. So this was our order we marched along in, eight Drunken Whoresons, or such as deserved no better Title, as I told you before, carried the little Box. My Pistols and Holsters followed them two by two. Madam de la Boissiere, no less vexed at it then myself went next to those; Being carried in a great Wicker Chair fastened to a couple of Cowl-staves, and supported by four Watermens, who relieved one another by turns, and went along parting a hundred impertinencies, to her, on the way: the rest of our goods came after her, being only a little Portmanteau, and a bundle covered with Canvas, which nine or ten of these Villains tossed from one to another all the way. And I brought up the rear of this Regiment of Rogues, holding Leonora by the hand, who laughed so hearty to see this pleasant procession, that I could not but be delighted as well as vexed with the Waggery. In our March, the passengers stood still gazing upon us, and shouted so loud, that it summoned all the people to their windows and doors. At last we arrived at the Fanxbourgh, on the road towards Paris, attended with a huge train of idle persons, and took up our Lodging at the sign of the Emperors Head. I put the women into a lower room, and went forth and threatened the drones so seriously, that they were contented to take very little pay for their great labour, the Landlord and his Wife taking my part against them. Madam de la Boissiere whom the money I had furnished her with, sooner cured then all the Cordials besides could have done, found herself able in a short time to travel by Coach, wherefore I took up three places in one, that was to go the next morning, and within two days after, we came in safety to Paris. Coming out of the Coach, I made acquaintance with Rancour, who came from Orleans in another Coach at the same time as ours. He heard me inquire for the Calais Coach-House, and told me he must go thither immediately, and if we had not made choice of any particular Lodging, he would bring us to a Woman's of his acquaintance, that kept Chambers ready furnished, where we might be very conveniently. We believed him, and found it as he told us. This Woman was the Widow of a person, that had all his life time belonged to a Playhouse, sometimes a Doorkeeper, than a Prompter, and afterwards a puny Actor, endeavouring to rise higher, but wanting fit parts to attain it. Having scraped some money together at the Theatre, he betook himself to house-keeping, furnished several Chambers, and hired them out by the week to no little profit. We took a couple of Rooms that were none of the worst, Madam de la Boissiere was confirmed of the ill news touching Leonora's Father, and heard so much besides, though she concealed it from us, that it cast her upon her sick bed again. This put off our voyage into Holland a while, whither she resolved to go, and Rancour who was to go to the same Country to a Company of Players that were there, was contented to wait our leisure, upon condition I would defray his charges till we were ready. Madam de la Boisiere was frequently visited by one of her Fellow Servants that lived at the fame time with her in the Ambassador's Family, and had been her chief confident, when Leonora's Father was first in love. This Woman gave her the account of her pretended Husband's retirement, and did us many great courtesies during our residence at Paris. I went out of doors as seldom as I could, for fear of being discovered by some of my friends: and found it no great trouble to stay within, so long as I had my Leonora, and the opportunity of ingratiating myself more and more with her Mother. Upon this Woman's persuasions, who as I told you, came often to visit us, we took a walk one morning towards Saint Clou, to air and refresh ourselves. Our Landlady made up one in the company, and Rancour another. We took a Boat when we came to the water side; and landed at several of the fairest Gardens where we walked and eat and drank, having so done, Rancour conducted the Women towards the Boat, whilst I was paying the reckoning at a house, where they asked most unreasonable prizes for what we had, and this kept me longer from them, than I intended. I got off as well I could, and hasted to join with my company. But I was hugely astonished to see the Boat gone a good way from shore, carrying my friends towards Paris, and leaving me behind, without any notice, or so much as my Footboy that had my Sword to wait upon me, standing at the River side, somewhat troubled at their strange departure; I heard a great uproar in another. Boat that lay there, and drawing somewhat near, I perceived two or three Gentlemen, or persons that appeared to be such, who would needs fall foul of a Waterman, because he refused to go after our Boat. I leaped into this Boat at all adventure, just as it was launching forth, the man fearing he should be roughly handled: But if I were troubled at the sudden departure of my friends, I was no less perplexed to find that he that offered this violence was the same Saldagne, whom I had so much reason to hate. At the instant I discovered him, he removed from the same place he sat in, and came just by me: I hide my face from him the best I could, But finding him so near, that it was impossible to conceal myself long, and knowing I had no Sword, I took the most desperate resolution that could be, though at that time I judged it the safest; I seized upon him before he could have the time to sit down, and threw myself into the River with him. He was not able to keep hold of my , whether his gloves hindered it, or his sudden surprisal. Never was any man nearer drowning than he. A great many of the nearest boats came in to save him, every one thinking we had fallen into the water accidentally, except Saldagn who knew the truths, but was not in a condition either to discover the same or pursue me. So I got on land again without much difficulty, having only a thin suit on, which did not much hinder my swimming, and thinking it worth my labour to make haste, I got far enough off from Saint Clou, before they finished up Saldagne. As they had no little ado to take him out of the River, so they had no less ado I dare say to believe his Relation how I threw him into it; when he affirmed how I ventured my own drowning to procure his, which certainly he would not hid from them. I was forced to go a great way about to get into Paris, and durst not enter the City, till Night, having no need of a fire to dry my , the heat of the sun and my exercise having done that sufficiently. At length I got to my dear Leonora's, whom I found in great affliction. Rancour and our Landlady were over joyed to see me again, and so was Madam De la Boissiere likewise, who the better ●o make him think I was her son, bemoaned me extremely; she excused herself in private to ●e, for their not staying, assuring me the fear ●aldagne put them in, made them leave me be●●des that she considered their presence would ●ather have hindered then helped me, if I had ●ngaged my Antagonist. They told me, that at their going from the Garden house, the Gallant followed them to the water side; where he uncivilly pressed Leonora to unmask herself, and discovering him to be the very same fellow that had attempted the like at Rome, they shuffled into the Boat without more a do, and made the Woterman put from the shore immediately: Saldagne having a couple more of the same stamp come to him, got into the next Boat with his two comrades, where I found him threatening the Watermen to make them pursue us. This adventure made me keep more within doors than I had done formerly. A while after Madam De la Boissiere fell sick; her Melancholy contributed much to her Malady, which made us remain part of the Winter at Paris by Perone. Rancour got so much credit as to have us comprehended and put down in his passport in Quality of Stage-players. One day, as we were going to this Italian Prelates, who Lodged in the Rue de Sei● we supped in a Frolic in the Faux-Burgh of St? Germans, with some Actors of Rancours acquaintance: He and I going over the Pontneuf, afterwards very late, were set upon, by five or six Robbers. I defended myself the best I could, and Rancour I protest did what man could do, insomuch as he saved my life: though he could not save me from being plundered of all I had about me, excepting my doublet and breeches, they having rifled me of an Enameled box, with Leonora's: Father's Picture, which Madam De la Boissiere had left with me, to try what I could get for some Diamonds it had round the Case; whilst he escaped with the loss only of an old cloak. I found Rancour at the Bridge foot wounded in the Arm and Face, as I was on the head. Madam De la Boissiere was very much concerned for the loss of the Picture, but the hopes of seeing the Original shortly, revived her again. In fine, we went from Paris towards Perone, from Perone to Brussels, and from Brussels to the Hague; from whence Leonora's Father was gone, about eight days before into England, where he intended to serve the King against the Parliamentarians. Leonora's Mother was so infinitely afflicted at his going, that she fell suddenly sick and died. She saw me grieve as much when she was at the worst, as if I had been really her child: She recommended her daughter to me, and made me engage I would not forsake her, but endeavour to find out her father, and restore her to his possession. Not long after, a French man robbed me of all the rest of my money; which reduced me to that necessity, that was forced to get into your Company, who accepted of us for Actors, by the recommendations of Rancour. The rest of my adventures are not unknown to you; they having a dependency on yours, only at Tours I think I ●aw that Devil Saldagne; and if I be not very much mistaken, I believe it will not be long ●re I meet him again in these parts. Which I less fear for my own sake, than Leonora's, who would lose a most faithful servant if I should miscarry, or be forced to part from her, by my rugged ●ate. Thus did Destiny finish his story, and after he had comforted Madam Star a while, whom the relation had a little disordered by renewing the remembrance of those disasters, which made her weep as if they had but newly happened, he took his leave civilly of the Ladies, and went to his bed.   

CHAP. XIX.  
Several Reflections which are not amisse● Ragotins' new disgrace, and other things whic● you may read if you please.  
LOve which makes youth undertake 〈◊〉 thing, and old age forget every thing; lo● which occasioned the Wars of Troy, and man● others beside, which I shall not stand to mention here, would needs make it known in t●● City of Manse, that he can be as Imperious 〈◊〉 a pitiful Inn, as in any place whatsoever. 〈◊〉 was not satisfied therefore with depriving t●● Amorous Ragotin of his appetite; but inspire Lafoy Rappiniere with a thousand irregular desire a person very susceptable of them, and ma●● Rocquebrune languish for the Operators wife, adding to his vanity, bravery, and Poetry a a fourth ingredient of Folly; or rather constraining him to a double infidelity: For he had prated Love a long while before, both to Star and Angelica, who often counselled him not to waste his time, and bestow his labour in vain in courting them. But all this is nothing to what I shall now relate. Love triumphed likewise over the insensibility and Misanthropie of Rancour, who became enamoured of the Operatress too, and by consequence a Rival to the Poet Rocquebrune, as a scourge for his wickedness, and expiation for the cursed writings he had published. This Woman's name was Donna Inezilla del Prado, Native of Malaga, and her husband, or he that styled himself ●o, Signior Ferdinando Ferdinandi a gentleman of Venice, born at Caen in Normandy. There was divers others besides the , in ●his Inn, infected with the same disease, as dangerously, if not more, than those I have nominated; And they shall be discovered too in due time and place. La Rappiniere fell in love with Madam Star when she Acted Ximene, and intended then to have laid open his heart to Rancour, whom he thought capable of undertaking any thing for a sum of Money Rocquebrune imagined he had met with a Spanish ●ady, worthy a Soldiers Purchase and Conquest. But as for Rancour, I cannot imagine ●y what potent charms this stranger-Lady could inflame such a person with Love, as hated all the world beside. This outworn Commedian being tormented before his time, I mean in love, before his death, was in his bed, when Ragotin tormented likewise with his passion, as with the Colic, came to implore he would remember his promise, and have pity on him. Rancour assured him, ere that day were at an end, he would render him some signal service towards his Mistress, La Rappiniere entered at the same instant into Rancour chamber, who was dressing himself, and having taken him aside, confessed his infirmity and vowed, if he could bring him into favou● with Madam Star, there was nothing in hi● power but he would do for him, even to the making him one of his guard, or bestowing hi● Niece in marriage on him, who was to be sol● Heiress after his death, because he had no children of his own. The cheating Rascal promised him yet more than he had done Ragotin which put this master Hangman in good hope● Rocquebrune came likewise to consult the Oracle He was the most incorrigible presumptuous fellow that ever came from the borders of the G●rone, and one that thought every man believe all he bragged, either of his Family, Poetry, 〈◊〉 Valour, in so much that he slighted all the d●● jests and bobs that Rancour perpetually put u● on him; presuming that what he said was o● of ignorance, or to prolong discourse; beside which gift, he was endued with so much christi●● Philosophy, that he took all their Raillery very patiently, nor would be moved at the severest repartees. He therefore believed he was admired by all the Players, nay, even by Rancour himself, who had experience enough, to admire seldom any thing, and was so far from having a good opinion of this poor Squire of the Bay-sprig, that he had made a full enquiry of his extraction, thereby to discover whether those Bishops and great Lords his Countrymen, whom he often quoted for his Kindred, were the true branches of that Genealogick Tree, this fool of Arts, and coats of Arms, together with many other things, had caused to be drawn in a large skin of Parchment. He was very sorry to find Rancour had company with him, though he had less need to be troubled at that then any one beside, it being his ill custom to whiper at all times in people's ears, and often make a great secret of nothing. However he took Rancour in a corner, and very gravely desired to know, whether the Operators Wife was a person of much understanding or not; because he had loved Women of all nations but the Spaniards, and if she were worth his purchase, he should not be much the poorer if he presented her with a hundred Pistols of Gold, which he as often mentioned on every occasion, as the great Family from whence he was descended. Rancour told him, he was not yet so intimately acquainted with Donna Inezilla, as to give his judgement in that particular, though he had often met her Husband in the chieftest Cities of France, where he fold his Antidotes, but if he desired so much to know what wit she had, he need but scrape acquaintance with herself, since she began to speak French reasonable well. Rocquebru●e would needs lend him his Parchment Genealogy, that so the Spanish Don might know the splendour of his birth. But Rancour said, that was a fit method for a Knight of Maltas Courtship. Whereupon Rocquebrune with a smiling countenance added, Well, Sir, you know what I am. Yes, yes, replies Rancour, I know well enough both what you are now, and what you will ever be to your dying day. The Poet went away as he came, and Rancour his Rival and confident at the same time, drew near to lafoy Rappini●re and Ragotin, who were Rivals also, though unknown to each other. As for old Rancour, besides the propensity we have to hate any one that endeavours to defeat us of what we design for ourselves, and the general quarrel he had against mankind, he ever had, besides all this, a particular aversion to this Poet, which this discovery was not likely to abate. Wherefore Rancour absolutely resolved, from that time forwards to do him all the mischief he could possibly, to which his Apish Nature prompted him, and fitted him for; and not to lose time, he began that very day, by basely borrowing money of him, where with he new clothed himself inside and outside from top to toe, with the best Linen and Woollen he could get. He had before, been very slovenly all his life time; but love which works far greater miracles, made him grow curious and spruce in his grey years. He changed his Linen oftener then did become a Country Player, and began to wash, powder and trim himself so carefully, that his Companions took notice of it. The Players were that day bespoken to Act a Comedy, at one of the chiefest Citizens belonging to the Town, who made a grand treat, and had a Ball at his Niece's Wedding, whose Guardian he had been. The entertainment was made at a very fair Country House of his about a League from the City, but whether Eastward, Westward, Northward, or , I know not. The Master of the Revels, and a Carpenter were sent in the morning early, to make the Stage. The whole company of Players went afterwards in two Coaches about eleven a clock, that they might get thither by dinner time. Donna Inezilla the Spanish Lady made one at their earnest entreaty. Ragotin having notice of the business, went to an Inn where he waited the coming of the Coach, and tied a very handsome horse at the door, which he had borrowed of some friend. He was scarce set down to eat his dinner, when they told him the Coach was in sight. He flew to Horse upon the wings of Love, with a great Sword by his side, and a Carabine dangling at his breech. He would never confess, what his fancy was, to go to a wedding with such offensive and defensive Arms and Ammunition; No, not Rancour his bosom friend, could ever get him to discover it. Having untied his Horse's Bridle, the Coaches were so near, that he had not the time to take his advantage, of mounting like a petty Saint George: And being none of the best Horsemen, nor so much minding his getting up handsomely, as his doing it suddenly, he came blewly off, for this Horses legs were as much too long for him, as his were too short to ride such a tall beast. However he got his foot nimbly into the stirrup, and threw his right leg over the saddle, but the girths were lose it seems, and that somewhat troubled him; for this made it run round while he was bestriding the steed, yet all went hitherto well enough, but the cursed Carabine, which hung on a belt about his neck like a Choler, got so unfortunately betwixt his legs  he was ware, that he could not reach the saddle with his breech, by I know not how much, the Carabine lying along on the ridge from the pummel to the crupper, so that he was in no great ease, as not being able with his duck legs to reach half way down towards his stirrups; besides, his heels being armed with spurs, tickled the Horse's sides in a place he was never wont to be pricked in, which set him a going more merrily than was necessary for a little Rider in that posture, having nothing but the Carabine to rest upon, much like the Wooden Horse, or Cowl-staff; this made him cling his legs close to the horses sides, and that clinging, made him fling up his hinder legs, so that Ragotin following the nature of all heavy bodies fell into the horse's neck, with his nose broken, the beast lifting up his head suddenly again at a check of the bridle he gave him unawares: to repair this oversight he lets go the reins, and gave the Horse his head, which was no sooner at liberty but he gives a great leap, and casts his Squire quite over the saddle upon his crupper, with the Carabine still between his thighs. The horse not being used to carry any thing behind, makes a croupade, which placed Ragotin just in the saddle again. The unskilful Squire claps his heels close afresh, and then the Horse fling up his hinder legs more than at first, which pitched the poor fellow just with his neck upon the pummel; where we must leave him, as on a Pinnacle, to rest ourselves a little; for on my reputation, this description hath cost me more pains than all the book besides, and yet I am not very well satisfied with it myself.   

CHAP. XX.  
The shortest of the present Volume. Ragotins' fall from his Horse, and somewhat of the like nature happening to Rocquebrune.  
WE left Ragotin planted on the pummel of a saddle, much concerned at this mishap, and as much troubled how to behave himself. I scarce believe the defunct Phaeton of unhappy memory, was more troubled with his Fathers four fiery jades, than our small Advocate with this one Horse, as quiet as a lamb if he had had but a skilful Rider; and that he lost not his life, as Phaeton did, he was beholding more to fortune, than any judgement of his own; whose ill menage were a fit subject for a longer discourse, were I not in conscience obliged to release him from the eminent danger he was in; having many more things to treat of concerning our Comedians during their residence at Manse. As soon as Ragotin felt what an uneasy cushion he had under the two most fleshy parts of his body, upon which he used to fit, as all other rational creatures are wont; I mean as soon as he found ●ow narrow his seat was, he quitted his bridle like a man of discretion, and caught hold of the Horse's mane, who ran away at full speed; this made the Carabine fire, Ragotin thought he was shot thorough the body, the Horse surely believe● the same, and stumbled so rudely, that Ragotin lost his seat, and for a time hung by the mane, with one spur entangled in the saddle-cloath, and the rest of his body hanging towards the earth, in expectation of a fall as soon as his spur should break lose, together with his Sword and Carabine in his Bandeleer. At length the saddle-cloath gave way, his hands let go their hold, and down he fell, but with more ease and skill than he got up. All this happened within sight of the Coaches, who stopped purposely to see what would become of him, or rather to have the pleasure of laughing at him. He cursed the Horse, who stood stock still as soon as he laid down his load, but to comfort him they took him up into one of the Coaches in the Poet's room, who was willing to ride, that he might court and galantize his Mistress Inezilla sitting in the Boot. Ragotin resigned his Sword and Fire-Armes up to him, which he put on in a very martial posture. He lengthened the stiprops, fitted the bridle, and no doubt went to get up more methodically than Ragotin. But there was surely some ill fate attended the horse that day. For the saddle being too loosely girted as before turned round with him likewise, and the string of his breeches being broken, the Horse ran a pretty way with him, whilst he had but one foot in the stirrup, his other serving the Horse for a fifth leg, whilst his backparts were exposed to open view, his breeches dangling all the way at his heels. The Spectators did not laugh very much as Ragotins' mishap, because there was more apparent danger in it; But Rocquebrunes, was accompanied with loud shouts from the Coaches; who stood still to observe the event, and hallowed with all their might, which drove him into a house for shelter, leaving the horse to his own discretion, who very wisely walked back again to the Town. But Ragotin knowing he was to be responsable for the beast, alighted out of the Coach, and went after him. Then the Poet having cased up his posteriours returned to the Players, and road along in his former seat, much troubled with his Martial Equipage, and more troublesome to the Company which made him declaim against Ragotin, who had undergone this third disgrace in his Lady's presence, with which we shall conclude our Twentieth Chapter.   

CHAP. XXI.  
Which perhaps will not be found very pleasing.  
THe Players were very civilly received by the master of the house, who was a good honest man, and one of the most considerable in those parts. They had two chambers allotted them to lay their  in and attire themselves for the Play, which was put off till after Supper. They dined in private, and after Dinner those that would walk had the liberty of a Grove and a large Garden. A young Counsellor of the Parliament of Renes, and near Kinsman to the master of the house, accosted our Comedians, and stayed some time to converse with them, having discovered Destiny to be a person of more than Vulgar judgement, and the women, besides their beauty to be such as could say more than just the parts they learned by rote. They discoursed of things suitable to their profession as Players and Poets. The young Counsellor said amongst other things, that there was scarce any remarkable Subject whereof they had not written, so that all History was, as one may say, exhausted or pumped dry, and therefore Modern Authors would be at length constrained to Wave those nice Rules of real stories and accidents comprised in four and twenty hours, it being judged unnecessary by most people that the Theatre should be confined to such severe limits, for since the generality are rather pleased with representations than recitals, they might contrive such plots as would be acceptable, without either falling into the Spaniards extravagancies, or tying themselves up to Aristotle's strict rules. From Comedies they fell to talk of Romances. The Counsellor affirmed that nothing could be more divertive than our Modern Romances, wherein the French excelled all other Nations: but for Novels the Spaniards had an art beyond us in contriving those little Histories, which are more useful, and more probable patterns for us to follow, than those imaginary Hero's of Antiquity, who are sometimes the worse for being charactered too good. In fine, those examples that are imitable, are to be reckoned at least more useful, if not more pleasant, than such as do exceed all probability and belief: And so he concluded, that if they could but compose as acquaint Novels in French as those written by Michael de Cervantes who seldom brought any Princes on the Stage, they would soon grow as current as ever Heroic Romances have been. Rocquebrune was not of the same opinion; He said very positively, that there could be no pleasure in reading of Romances, unless they contained the adventures of Princes, yea and of Famous Princes too, and for that reason, Astrea pleased him only in some parts of it. And in what Histories can one find Kings and Emperors enough to make you new Romances, said the Counsellor: we must feign such, replied Rocquebrune, as they usually do in Fabulous stories, which have no foundation but the paper they are built upon. I perceive then, said the Counsellor, that Don Quixot is but slightly esteemed by you. 'Tis the most sottish piece that ere I read, replied he, though many people that pretend to wit have fond cried it up. Have a care it be not rather want of wit in you, than any defect in the book, that makes you judge so rashly, said Destiny. Rocquebrune would not have failed to answer Destiny, had he but heard what he spoke; But he was so busy in entertaining the Laidies, who flocked about them, that he minded him not, telling that fair Sex, he would write a Romance in five parts, every part to contain ten Volumes, which should eclipse all the Cassandra's, Cleopaters', Polexanders', and Cyrus, though this last have the Surname of the Grand, no less than the son of Pepin: Mean while the Counsellor was telling Destiny and the Actresses, that he had writ, some Novels, in imitation of the Spaniards, promising them they should have the perusal of them. Inezilla spoke to them, in a kind of French that had more of the Gascon accent then the Spanish, and said her first husband had the reputation of a competent Author in the Court of Spain; having composed several Novels, that were much esteemed, some of which she had in Manuscript, which in her opinion deserved to be translated into French. The young Counsellor being very curious of such kind of compositions; told the Spanish Lady, she would do him an infinite favour in letting him have a sight of them; which she civilly proffered, adding withal, that no body was better stored with such trifles than herself, for it being the Mode in their Country for the women to write both in Verse and Prose, she had made it her pastime like the rest, and could entertain them with some of her own fashion, or making. Rocquebrune confidently, as his humour was, proffered to put them into French. Inezilla who was perhaps the gentellest Spaniard that ever crossed the Pyrenes to come into France, replied, that it was not only requisite to understand the French tongue well, but that he must be as perfectly knowing in the Spanish also, and therefore though she would not discourage his attempts of the like nature, yet she should be unwilling to thrust them upon him till she were certain he were so qualified as she thought fit. Rancour who had not as yet opened his mouth, delighting in piquent speeches, said, no doubt but that his ability was sufficient enough, since he had been Corrector of a PRINTING-house, he had no sooner told them this, but he remembered he had borrowed money of Roquebrune; which made him pursue no farther; to which the other dashed out of countenance at Rancours words, replied that he could not deny, but that he had Corrected some few sheets for an intimate Friend once or twice; and somewhat that he published of his own. Madam Star, addressing herself to Inezilla, told her; that since she was so well furnished with those pretty stories, she would often importune her to relate some of them. The Spanish Lady replied, that ●he was ready to give her satisfaction presently. They took her at her word, and all the company seating themselves round about her, she began a History not in the very same terms as you will find it in the following Chapter; but yet very intelligibly, and in such polite Language ●s made them guests she had a pregnant wit and ●ree expression in her own Tongue; since she was mistress of so much in a strange one, which ●he had studied but a few months before.   

CHAP. XXI.  
The Novel. Or the Trapanner Trapan'd  
A Young Lady of the City of Toledo, named Victoria, descended from the Ancient Family of Portocarrero, had retired herself to 〈◊〉 private-house situated on the brink of the River Tagus in the absence of her brother, wh●● was a Captain of a Troop of Horse in the Lo●● Countries. She became a widow at her seventeenth year, being wedded to an ancient Gentleman that had gotten a great estate in th● Indies, who six months after his Marriage perished in a Storm at Sea, leaving her much weak●● behind. This fair widow after the loss of he● husband kept house constantly with her brother▪ where she lived in such repute, that at the age of Twenty all those Mothers that were made happy in her acquaintance, proposed her for an● Example or Pattern to their Children, the Husbands to their Wives, and the Gallants to their desires, as a conquest worthy their Noblest Ambition: But as her retirement quelled the love and hompes of many, so on the other hand it increased the esteem the whole world had for her▪ In this habitation, she enjoyed at liberty, al● the innocent pleasures of a Country Life; when ●●e morning her Shepherds brought into her ●use a couple of men, whom they found stripped 〈◊〉 all their  and bound fast to a Tree, here they had been tied the whole Night. ●●ey had lent each of them a scurvy Shepherds ●at to cover themselves withal, and in this ●uipage did they appear before the pretty ●●ddow Victorio. The poverty of their habit ●●uld not hid the rich mien of the younger, ●o made her a handsome Compliment, and told 〈◊〉 he was a Gentleman of Cordova, by name 〈◊〉 Lopes de Gongora; who was travelling from ●●●l to Madrid about business of importances, ●●d having over slipped his time at play about half ●●ies journey from Toledo, where he dined the 〈◊〉 before, the night surprised them; and ●●ing a sleep as his man likewise did, expecting ●ule-driver that stayed behind; some Thief's ●●ing them both in that condition, tied them ●a Tree, after they had stripped them to their ●y Shirts. Victoria doubted not of the Truth this Relation, his Noble countenance speak●● in his favour, and she knowing how great a serosity there was in relieving a stranger, ●uced to that want. It happened that amongst  her brother left in his Guarderobe, ●●e were two good Suits, for the Spaniards ●●er part with their old , though they ●●e new, but hoard them up as Relics of their ●ndeur. These two were bestowed on the ●●ter and his man, and were not much unfit either of their Bodies. Dinner time being near, this stranger whom Victoria invited her Table, appeared so complete, and entertained her with so much wit, that she fancy her Charity could never have been better p●●ced. They kept company together the remaining part of the day, and were so mu●● taken with each others perfections, that neit●●● of them slept so quietly that night as they w●● wont. The stranger would needs send his ●●vant to Madrid to take up money and buy 〈◊〉 ; or at least pretended it, but the 〈◊〉 widow would not suffer him, promising 〈◊〉 enough for his expenses to his journey's 〈◊〉 He mentioned somewhat of Love to her the ●●●ry same day; and she gave him a very frien●● audience. In fine, within fifteen days, the ●●portunity of the place, the equal merit of the p●●sons, a great many vows and protestations u● one side, and too much credulity and frank● on the other, their vigorous youth, a promis● marriage, and a reciprocal faith given in the 〈◊〉 sense of an ancient Staward and Victorias W●●ing-woman, tempted her to commit an oversight she was thought uncapable of running into, 〈◊〉 put this stranger in possession of the gre●● and till then the chastest and severest beauty Toledo. For at least eight days tegether it 〈◊〉 nothing but Love and Dear, Fire and Flame 〈◊〉 twixt the young couple, Kissing, Embra●● and Courting, was their meat, drink and d●●tion, night and day: But part they must, 〈◊〉 Tears succeeded their Smiles and Caref●●● though Victoria might have spared them had known all; The stranger was desired to stay a ●hile longer, but he told her such a tale of what ●e should lose by his delay, that when he ●emed to consent to her proposition, which ●e enjoyment of so great a bliss, made him ●illing to continue to eternity, as he protested; ●e then changed her mind and was as eager to ●●ve him gone, her passion having not blinded ●●r reason so much, as to prefer the happiness 〈◊〉 his Society, to his greater advancement. ●e furnished him with new apparel from Tole●● and gave him what money he desired, wherewith he prosecutes his journey, being mount●● on an excellent Mule himself, and his man 〈◊〉 another, the poor Lady being stung with ●●ief at his departure, and he as much afflicted, ●●at least pretending to be so, for leaving her ●●ne. The same day he went thence, the Cham●●r Maid making the Bed, found a Picture case ●●apt in a Letter fallen down behind a Chair hereon he laid his ; she carried it immediately to her Mistress, who opening the same, ●ued a most excellent young Lady's Picture ●●shrined in it, and Reading the Letter, it confined these or the like following Lines.  
Dearest Cousin,  
HEre enclosed I send you a Picture of the beautiful Elvira de Sylva; but when you shall be●●ld the Original, you will be forced to confess how ●●initely Art falls short of Nature, and how much ●ighter this Sun of beauty is, than the poor shadow ●●an by the skilfullest Painters hand. Her Father Don Pedro expects you with much impatience, 〈◊〉 Articles of marriage betwixt you and Elvira 〈◊〉 drawn up according to your wishes, very much 〈◊〉 your advantage. And this I hope will be a sufficient motive to hasten your voyage to Madrid, where 〈◊〉 amongst other real friends shall find.  
Madrid this, etc. Your Servant, etc. Don Antonio de Ribera.  
The Letter was directed to Ferdinand de R●bera at Sevil. Imagine I beseech you Victori● astonishment at the Contents of this Pape● which in all probability could be intended fo● no other but her false Lopez de Congora, she no● perceived, but too late, that this stranger, who● she had so highly and hastily obliged, had disguised his Name, and by that counterfeit, sh●● guessed at his infidelity and treachery. Th● beauty of the Picture run in her mind, but th● Articles of marriage almost distracted her wit● despair. Never was poor forsaken Lover mor● deeply afflicted: Her sighs did well nigh bu●● her heart, and her tears drowned her eyes, fo● she wept till her head ached most intolerably miserable, forlorn, wretched woman that I am said she to herself, (and sometimes to her ol● trusty Steward likewise, who was a witness o● the promise of Marriage:) have I acquired s● much reputation and esteem of all the worl● to be thus Trappaned, and refused so many proffers amongst my acquaintance, who would have thought themselves too happy in my enjoyment, to throw myself away upon a stranger, that perhaps laughs at my easy credulity, how he hath risled me of all my honour and ●oasted reputation, and ruind my Fame eternally; What will they say at Toledo? and what will they not say in Spain? Can a young cheating pretender, be so discreet as to conceal the ●hame he hath stuck upon me? Why did I let ●im know my heart, before I was assured of the ●ncerity of his vows? Can he have changed ●is Name if he had meant to keep his flattering promises? Or can I hope he will be reclaimed ●fter he hath enjoyed me? What will not my ●rother be provoked by this heinous fact to do ●gainst me; and to what purpose is he Courting ●ame and Glory in a foreign Land, when I ●last the Credit of his Name and Family thus 〈◊〉 home. No, no, Victoria must undertake something that may repair her crime; But be●re I proceed to vengeance, and a desperate ●ure, it will be fit to try a safer and milder remedy, I must endeavour by my craft to regain ●hat I have lost by my imprudence: It will be ●●en time to make use of desperate ways, when have found all others ineffectual: Victoria had 〈◊〉 seems some judgement left in her distressed condition, since she could fix on such good re●lutions in such a dangerous intrigue. Her ●●d Steward and her Waiting woman would ●eds become her Councillors: but she told them, she knew as much as they could say; Bu● words were wind, whereas sudden action mu●● effect her business, and guide her out of this Lab●●rinth. So the very same day a couple of Cart● were Laden with Household stuff and necessaries Victoria giving out, amongst her domestic Servants, that she had business called her to th● Court, which concerned her Brother very much She took Coach with her Squire and Woman and hurried to Madrid, whither her good were appointed to follow. As soon as she arrived, she made inquiry for Don Pedro, de Silv●● house, and being informed where abouts it was hired one for herself in the same Street. He Steward's name was Rodrigo Santillane, who from his youth was Bred up by Victorias Father which made him have the same respect for hi● Mistress as if she had been his own Sister. Having much acquaintance in Madrid, where he ha● often Sojourned, he soon discovered that Do● Pedro de Silvas daughter, was to be Wedded to a Sevillian Gentleman, named Fernand de Ribera, which match was brought about by a Kinsman of his of the same Name, it being so ne'er the conclusion that Don Pedro was providing Servants and all other Necessaries for his Daughter's family. The very next day Rodrigo Santillane. in a plain and decent Garbe● Victoria, in a sober Widows habit, and Beatri● her waiting Woman, who was to personate he● Mother in Law and Rodrigos' Spouse, went al● of them together to Don Pedro's, and desired to speak with him; Don Pedro admitted them very civility; to whom Rodrigo said, with much confidence; that he was a decayed Gentleman of Toledo, and having one only Daughter by his Wife, which was Victoria, whose Hu●band deceased not long since at Sevil, finding his own and his Daughter's fortune very low and mean, he had brought her to Court to get some good Service for her; and being informed that his intent was to settle his Daughter Elviras' Family at her marriage, he hoped that it would not be unkindly taken, that he came to proffer the widow's service to him; she being a person very fit to become a Duegna to the Bride, not doubting but her Breeding and good Nature would give her a better title to her Mistress' Favour, than the small beauty she had to recommend her. Before I proceed any farther, I must advertise those that are unacquainted with it, that the Ladies in Spain keep Duegnas, in their houses, and these Duegnas are much the same thing as our Governesses or Ladies of honour belonging to great persons: I must add to this, that these Duegnas or Dovegnes in Spain, are severe, troublesome, importunate animals, no less dreadful than a domineering Mother in Law. But to go on with the Story: Roarigue played his part so well, and Victoria whose beauty was the best oratry, appeared so comely in her modest attire, and had so much good augury in her countenance, that he accepted of her immediately to govern his Daughter. He proffered Redrigue and his wife an employment in his own family likewise; but Rodrigue excused himself, and told him several reasons did forbi● to him lay hold of that honour and advantage but having taken an house in the same street, h● would be ready to wait upon him at any tim● he should command it. Thus was Victoria entertained in Don Pedro's house, infinitely belove● both by him, and his Daughter Elvira, and n●● less envied of all the other Servants, Don Anto●nio di Ribera, who had contrived the match fo● his faithless Cousin, came very often to bring him tidings that his Kinsman was on his journey and had written to him at his setting forth from Sevil. And yet this Gallant did not appear, thi● somewhat perplexed him; nor could Don Pedro and Elvira tell what to judge of it, but Victori● was the most concerned. But Don Fernand ha● reason not to come, The very same day he parted from Victoria, heaven punished his infidelity. As soon as he was gotten to Illescos; a fierce dog running out of a house unawares, affrighted his Mule so terribly, that his Leg was sorely bruised against a neighbouring wall, and he thrown down and his Knee put out of joint, which pained him so much he could not prosecute his journey. He was seven or eight days at least, in the Chirurgeons hands, who having no great experience, and his grief not abating, it constrained him at length to send his Cousin word of his misfortune, and withal entreat him to procure a Horselitter for him that he might get to Madrid. The news of his fall affrighted them no less, than the knowledge of his being so nigh pleased them. Victoria, who still loved him, for all his prevarication, was hugely afflicted. Don Antonio sent a Litter to convey Fernand to Madrid, where being arrived, whilst they were providing  for him and his Retinue, which was very magnificent (he being the eldest Son of the Family and wealthy enough) the Chirurgeons of Madrid, more skilful than he at Illescas, cured him perfectly well. Don Pedro de Silua, and Elvira his Daughter, had notice given them of the day whereon Don Antonio de Ribera had engaged to bring his Cousin Don Fernand to them. It is very probable the young Elvira had not neglected herself, nor was Victoria a little concerned. She saw her faithless Lover make his entrance, tricked up like a Bridegroom, and if he was so taking in his tattered habit, what must he not be now he was so complete. Don Pedro was very well satisfied, and his Daughter must have been very nice, had she not been fully pleased. The Servants of the house stared upon their young Ladies sweet heart with open eyes, and every one of the Family were overjoyed, excepting poor Victoria, whose heart was heavy and almost overcharged with grief. Don Fernand was charmed with Elviras' beauty; confessing, as his Cousin informed him, that the Painter had much injured her. His first compliments expressed a great deal of wit, and were not made up of those extravagant fooleries, most men are guilty of, in their first addresses to a Father in Law, and a handsome Mistress. Don Pedro de Silva Locked himself up in a Closet with the two Kinsmen and a Lawyer, to adjust somewhat that had been left unfinished in the Articles. In the mean time Elvira stayed in her own apartment, surrounded with her Women, who were entertaining his with the applause of her new Servitor: Only Victoria stood cold and mute, whilst they sung her Encomiums; Elvira observed it, and took her aside to tell her, she admired that she said nothing of the happy choice her Father had made of a husband, who seemed so deserving, and subjoined, that either out of complaisance or civility, she ought to express somewhat. Madam, replied Victoria, your Lover's presence speaks his worth so fully, it were needless to add my dull judgement to it. The coldness you have taken notice of does not proceed from any indifferency, I were unworthy of the favours you have vouchsafed me, should I not share in all that does concern you: And therefore be confident I should be no less transported with joy at your Marriage, than all the rest about you are, were I not so well acquainted with the Gentleman you are to Wed. My own husband was an inhabitant of Sevil, whose house stood but a very little distance from your Servants. He is indeed of a good Family, Rich, Handsome, and I do believe a man of Wit and other Excelling qualities. In fine, he is worthy of a Lady such as you are: But withal, I am certain you deserve a man's entire affection, which he cannot bestow on you, because his heart is divided. I could wave this discovery, which may perhaps displease you: But this were to betray my trust, should I conceal what I know of Don Fernand, in a business, whereon depends the happiness or unhappiness of your whole Life. Elvira was amazed at her Duegneas words, and entreated her to clear those doubts she had Started. Victoria replied, that it was neither to be done before that presence, nor in few words. Elvira pretended she had some business of privacy in her Chamber, where Victoria as soon as they were alone, told her: That Fernand de Ribera was in love at Sevil, with one Lucretia de Monsalva, a very beautiful Lady, though of a very mean Fortune; by whom he had three Children upon promise of marriage; and that during Ribera's Father's life it was kept very secret, after whose death Lucretia having claimed his promise, he grew very cold; whereupon she had referred the business to the Arbitration of some friends; all which made so much noise in Sevil, that Don Fernand had, by his friends persuasions, absented himself for a time, to shun the rage of Lucretia's kindred, who hunted for revenge and blood. In this posture were his affairs; pursued she, when I came from thence, at which time it was also reported that Don Fernand was going to Madrid to be married. Elvira could not refrain ask, whether the aforesaid Lucretia were a beauty? Victoria told her, she wanted nothing but wealth, and so left her extreme pensive, and firmly resolved to give her Father a present account of the business. At the same instant word was brought her that her designed husband waited without for her, having concluded the Article that they were consulting on in the old Father's Closet: Elvira went to him, whilst Victoria stayed in the withdrawing Room, where the same fellow came to her that attended on him, when she so Nobly relieved them after their being stripped. This diligent Servant of his, brought a Packet of Letters for his Master, which he had taken up at the Posthouse. He did not know Elvira, so much her change of habit had disguised her; wherefore he desired to be admitted to the speech of his Master, to deliver the said Packet; She told him, it would be a good while before he could have that opportunity with convenience, but if he durst trust her with his Letters, she would be sure to give them, as soon as possibly she could get to him. The fellow made no scruple in the case, but having left them in her custody, he went about his affairs. Victoria who was resolved to leave no stone unturned, goes up to her own Chamber, opens the Packet, and in a moment Seals it up again, together with a Letter of her own contriving amongst the rest. This being done the Kinsmen took their leaves. Elvira spying the Letters in her Governess hand, asked what it was? Victoria coldly answered, that Don Fernands Serving man had left some Letters with her to deliver to his Master, which she was going to send after h●m, not being in the way, when he went forth. Elvira said, it would not be amiss to break them open, since perhaps it might give them some further light about the discovery she had made. This being ●hat she desired, Victoria rips open the Seal a ●econd time. Elvira reads the several super●criptions, and fixing her eye upon one that ●eemed to be a woman's hand, addressed to Don bernand de Ribera at Madrid, she unfolds it, and ●herein found these following Lines.  
YOur absence, and the News I hear that you are to be hastily married at Court, will soon deprive ●u of a person that valued you above her own life, ●●less you suddenly return and make good your pro●ise and solemn Engagement, which you can neither ●●fer any longer or violate without a manifest disho●ur and Breach of Faith. If what I hear be true, ●●at you regard your Promises and Vows so little, ●hich you made both to me and our Children, believe ●e you will run the hazard of your life, (no less ●●n than the loss of your Fame, Credit and Sincerity) ●●ich my Kindred are resolved to make you pay ●●wn for your treachery, when ever I shall call up●● them for my just Revenge, since you enjoy it now ●ely at the request of,  
From Sevill. Lucretia de Monsalva.  
Elvira did now absolutely believe all what ●●r Governess had told her, finding it so au●entically confirmed by this fresh testrimony. ●●e imparts it to her Father, who could not 〈◊〉 infinitely admire, that a Gentleman of his ●ality should be so unworthy as to ruin a Lady of equal Birth with him, after he had 〈◊〉 many Children by her, upon no other accounted but his inconstant humour. This made him repair to a Sevillian Gentleman a Friend of hi● for information, as being one that had befor● given him a clear account of Don Fernands' weal●● and quality. He was scarce gone out of door● when Don Fernand came to inquire for his Pa●ket, attended with his Servant, who told him his young Mistress' Governess had promised 〈◊〉 deliver them into his hands. Elvira freely to●● him, that she had taken them from her, a●● had the Curiosity to Break them open, n●● doubting but a Man of his years had some Engagement amongst so many Gallants as abounded in Sevil, and although she could not sa● she had reaped any great satisfaction, yet sh● had met with this caution in recompense, ho●● dangerous a thing it was for young people to 〈◊〉 married together, before they were very throughly acquainted with each other, but now s●● would not debar him any longer of his delight in perusing them. At these words she restore● them, and slightly bowing to him in civility le● him, before he could make any reply: D●● Fernand was strangely surprised at her discourse. He Examined the supposed Lette● and perceived it was some knack to hinder 〈◊〉 marriage. He addressed himself to Victori● who remained in the outward Room, and to●● her, without minding her fault much; that ●ther some Rival, or malicious person. had contrived that Letter to abuse him. I a Wife 〈◊〉 Sevil? cried he; I two or three Children; If 〈◊〉 do not prove this to be the most impudent impostor that ever was set on foot, let me die? Victoria told him, he might possibly indeed be innocent, but yet his Mistress in discretion could ●o no less than make a further inquiry as to the ●●uth of it, and therefore consequently his mar●●age would be put off, till her Father Don Pedro ●ould be convinced by the Gentleman his ●●iend, whom he was gone to seek, that this was ●●ly a pretended intrigue. That is but reason, answered he, and if there be but a Lady of the ●●ame of Lucretia de Monsalvo in all that whole ●ity, let me forfeit all the Reputation and Ho●●ur of a Gentleman, and let me entreat you, ●●ded he, if you are but so much acquainted ●●ith your Lady's secrets as to be her confident, 〈◊〉 much as I perceive you are her Favourite, that ●●u would be kind in your good Offices, & take ●●y part in all these little contests. Truly, said Vi●●ria, I can affirm without boasting, that she will 〈◊〉 persuaded to any thing sooner by me, then ●●y other; But this I must let you know with●●●, that her humour is such as is not easily appeased, when she believes herself really disobliged: and as the entire hopes of my Fortune's 〈◊〉 founded on the good will she hath towards ●●e, I shall never adventure to contradict her to ●●vance you, or hazard her displeasure by endeavouring to possess her with an opinion of ●●ur sincerity. I am but poor and mean, added ●●e, and not to gain were to lose a great deal: swor'st what she hath promised me as a portion when I am married a second time should fail, I might live a Widow all the rest of my days; though I am yet young enough, and not so deforme● but some body may think me worth their purchase: But 'tis an old saying and a true on● Without Money— She was going on thus wi●● a right Widow-like tedious rabble; which sh●● as Governess, acted to the life, when Don Ferna●● interrupting her, said, Be pleased but to 〈◊〉 one piece of service I shall require of you, an● I will put you in a condition above the hope● 〈◊〉 your Lady's reward; and to convince you th●● my words are not, Courtier like, my only deed●● give me Pen, Ink and Paper, and you shall hav● what you will under my hand; Jesus, Mounsieu● says this feigned Governess, an honest ma● word is as good as his bond: But to obey yo● I will fetch you the Paper and Ink you desire; sh● returned again with materials enough to hav● drawn a bond of a Million of Gold, and D●● Fernand was so Gallant, or at least had such 〈◊〉 month's mind to Elvira, that he signs her 〈◊〉 blank, and leaves her to make her own condit●ons, thereby to oblige her with the greater confidence's. This raised Victoria up to the Clouds she promises wonders, and told him, she wish she might be the unhappiest woman in th● world, if she did do as much for him as sh● would do for herself, and in this she spoke 〈◊〉 great truth. Don Fernand leaves her fuller 〈◊〉 hopes then ever, and Rodrigo Santilane, her 〈◊〉 Steward, that passed muster for her Father, b●ing come to visit her to learn how her desig● ●ent on, she gives him an account of all, and ●hewed him the Paper subscribed, for which he ●ave thanks to heaven with her, finding all ●hings contribute so happily to forward their ●●tents. To lose no time, he went home to ●he house that Victoria had hired not far from ●on Pedro's, as I before related: where he filled ●p the blank Don Fernand had given with a pro●ise of marriage attested with witnesses, and da●ed about the same time that Victoria received ●his faithless Gallant into her house and heart. ●●e was as skilful at his Pen as any man in Spain, ●●d had considered Don Fernands' hand so well in 〈◊〉 Copy of Verses of his own writing, which he ●●d bestowed on Victoria during his heat of love, ●r lust rather, that Don Fernand could not have distinguished the counterfeit Copy from the Original: Don Pedro de Sylva could not meet with ●●e Gentleman he sought, to know the verity ●f the information, but left a Ticket at his lodging, and came back to his own, where that same ●ight Elvira unbosomed her secrets to her Governess, and vowed she would sooner disobey ●er Father, then yield herself up to be Don Fer●ands Wife, confessing withal that she was preengaged to one Don Maradas a long while be●●re, and had in reason complied enough with ●er Father's commands and her own duty, in ●utting a restraint on her first inclinations to satisfy him, and since Don Fernands' levity was ●ow made manifest, she thought she fafely ●ight re-sume her first affection, which could ●e interpreted no other than a resignation of her will to Heaven's decree, where certainly all marriages are made: You may believe Victoria fortified Elvira in these good resolutions, and spoke as she intended for Don Fernand, but not as he expected. Don Diego de Maradas, said then Elvira to her, is much dissatisfied with me, for having forsaken him, in obedience to my Father; But the least inviting look from me, will bring him back again, were he at a greater distance than D●n Fernand is from his Lucretia: Writ to him Madam, said Victoria, and I shall willingly carry your Embassy: Elvira was transported with joy, to find her Governess so kind in her behalf; she commanded the Coach to be made ready for Victoria, who immediately went away with an Epistle for Don Diego, and being alighted at her reputed Father Santilanes, she made the Coach return, telling the fellow she would go a foot whither she was designed. Honest Santilane showed her the promise of marriage he had drawn up, and she presently wrote two little Notes; one to Diego Maradas, the other to Pedro de Silua her Lady's Father, wherein she entreated him to repair to her house about some business of great importance, with the direction where she dwelled, and signed Victoria Portocarrero; whilst they were carrying these notes Victoria strips off her black weeds, puts on very rich , pulls out her Locks (which were o● the loveliest hair and colour that could be) and tricks herself up like a very Spark. Don Diego de Maradas came in a while after to know what business of such great concernment she could have with him, who was a mere stranger to him; she received him very civilly, and was scarce sit down, when it was told her that Don Pedro de Silua was come to wait upon her. She entreated Don Diego to conceal himself in an Alcove, assuring him it would be much for his advantage to overhear the discourse she should have with Don Pedro. He did as she enjoined him without more ado, more upon the account of her Beauty and brave mien, than any other expectation, and Don Pedro was admitted into Victorias Chamber, not knowing her, so much had these Adornments and fine Feathers changed the Bird that fed at his own Table: She entreated him to place himself in a Chair, whence Don Diego could easily overhear all they spoke, and then began in these terms. I think Sir, it will be most proper in the first place, to let you know who I am, to prevent those doubts that otherwise my Narration might raise in you. I am one of the Family of the Portocarreroes, born in the City of Toledo, where I was married at the Age of Thirteen, and became a Widow about six months after; my Father was of the Order of Saint James' Cross, and my Brother is a Knight of the Order of Calatrava. Don Pedro interrupted her, to let her know her Father was of his acquaintance, and a most intimate Friend. It rejoices me extremely, Sir, said she, to know this from your mouth, for I shall stand in need of many Friends to help me in my present condition, as I shall inform you. After this she gave an account to Don Pedro of all that had passed betwixt her and Don Fernand, and then shown him the promise of Marriage counterfeited by Santillane: He had, no sooner read it, but she went on thus; No doubt but you know Sir, what Honour obliges Persons of my Quality to do in these cases: For though Justice should be partially denied me, yet have my Friends so much power and credit in these Countries, that they would persecute my interest to the highest. I thought it would be a becoming act, Sir, to make known my pretences to you, that you might put a stop o the intended Match you had designed: Your Daughter is too worthy to be cast away upon such a faithless Match, and I believe you are so discreet, you will not rob me to bestow one upon her must prove her ruin, and be subject to that Divorce my title will call for; were he a Grandee of Spain, replied Don Pedro, I would have nothing to do with him, if he were unjust and false: I shall therefore not only deny him my Daughter, but my House; and as for yourself Madam, both my Friends and Credit shall be ready to assist you when ever you desire it: I had notice given me before, that he was a man would slip no opportunity of taking his pleasure, even to the hazard of his Reputation, and being of that vain humour, though you had not concern for him, he never should have my Daughter, whom Heaven I hope will provide for in the Court of Spain, where she may make a better choice. Don Pedro parted from Victoria having no more to say, and then she called Don Diego out of the Alcove, where he stood listening to all they said; That spared her the labour of repeating her story, she delivered Elviras' Letter to him, which even ravished him for joy, and lest he should be in some kind of perplexity to know how she came by it, ●he made a discovery of her Metamorphose to 〈◊〉 Duegna, knowing he was as much concerned ●o keep it secret as herself. Don Diego, before he went from Victoria wrote an Answer to his Mistresses pleasing message, where the infinite content he expressed for his revived hopes, evinced the affliction he had endured ever since ●he loss of her noble Society and Favour: He parted from the fair Widow likewise, and was no sooner gone, but she gets into her old robes ●gain, and returned to Don Pedro's. In the interim Don Fernand de Ribera was gone to wait upon his Mistress, and had taken his Cousin Antonio long with him, to endeavour to set all that to ●ights again, which had been charged against him by Victoria's feigned Letter. Don Pedro ●ound them together with his Daughter, who was nonplussed when they both desired no better ●ustification, then only a due inquiry, whether ●ver such a Lady as Lucretia de Monsalvo were ●eard of in Sevil. They repeated the same ●hing to Don Pedro to clear themselves, to which ●e answered, that if that pretended engagement with Lucretia were a fancy, it was so much ●he better and easier to be blown off; but that ●e had been newly with a Lady of Toledo, na●ed Victoria Portocarrero, to whom Don Fernand ●ad promised marriage, and to whom he was indeed much more engaged, having been so generously assisted by her, when he was rather an● object of compassion then love being poor and naked, and had no Title to her favour but Charity, being a mere stranger; which he could not deny, since she had under his hand and Seal a●● promise of Marriage from him, which he had seen; to which he added, That a person of Honour ought not to Court a Wife at Madrid, whilst he had one already at Toledo. At which words, he pulls the promise of Marriage out of his Letter case, as it was formally conterfeited; Don Antonio knows his Cousin's writing, and Don Fernand mistaking it himself, though he were confident he had never given any, was quite confounded at the sight of it. The good man and his Wife withdrew after they had coldly bid them Adieu. Don Antonio quarrelled with his Cousin for employing him in this Treaty, when he had another on foot before: They took Coach together, where Don Antonio having made him confess his unhandsome proceeding with Victoria, reproved the heinous crime, and shown the evil consequence it was like to beget; He told him he must not think of getting any Wife at Madrid only, but in any part of Spain, and it would prove a happiness if he could get himself out of the Briers by marrying Victoria, and not forfeit his life with his honour; Victoria's Brother being a Person not likely to put up so foul a business without full satisfaction; It was time for Don Fernand to keep silence, though his Cousin continued these reproaches His Conscience accused him sufficiently of treachery and of falsehood against a Lady that had so ●ighly obliged him, but this promise of mariege almost distracted him, not knowing by what strange enchantment they had made him grant 〈◊〉. Victoria being come back again to Don Pe●●ro's in her widow's attire, delivered Don Diego's Letter to Elvira; who told her, how the two Kinsmen had been there to justify themselves; ●ut that they were since charged with other ●uess practices, than Fernands' Love for the Se●●lian Lady. She afterwards related, what she new better than her Mistress, though she pre●ended to admire and detest those abominable practices, whereof Fernand was made guilty. ●hat same day Elvira was invited to a Come●y, at one of her Nieces. Victoria who made ●er advantage of every occasion, hoped, if El●●ra would follow her Counsel, that this Come●y may prove favourable to her design. She ●old her young Mistress, that if she had any in●ination to see her Servant Diego, there was ●othing more easy; her Father's house being ●e most convenient place that could be; and ●at since the Play was not to begin till late at ●●ght, she might if she pleased but to go forth little early, have time enough to speak with ●●m, and then go to the Comedy time enough. ●●vira who really and hearty loved Don Diego, ●●d had not without much trouble and reluctancy consented to entertain Don Fernands' Court●ip at her Father's persuasion and command, ●●d no aversion to what Victoria propounded: Wherefore they hurried away in a Coach as soo● as ever the old man was gone to sleep, and went to Victorias house. Santillane as Maste● of the said house, together with Beatrize, who personated the Mother in Law, welcomed them very civility. Elvira sent a Ticket to Don Dieg● which was soon delivered, while Victoria di● spatched another privately away for Don Fernand. in Elvira's name, wherein she made him believe it was in his power to complete th● Match, to which his merit engaged her to adventure, as not desiring to render herself unhappy for ever by losing him, only to please a Father's crabbed humour. She gave him such particular directions in the same Note, how h● might find the house, that it was impossible h● should miss of it, which Paper was carrie● a very little while after that other, from Elvir● to Don Diego. Victoria wrote a third likewise which Santillane himself was to convey to D●● Pedro de Silua, by which she informed him as true and trusty Governess, that his Daughter instead of going to the Comedy, would need stop at her Father's house; and had sent for D●● Fernand to consummate her marriage with him which she believing was utterly against his pu●● pose and consent, she thought herself boun● to give him notice, that he might know he wa● not at all mistaken in that good opinion he ha● of her honesty, when he first took her to be h● Daughter's Governess. Santillane likewise tol● Don redro, his Daughter had charged him, t● wish him not to come thither by any mean without bringing an Algovazil along with him, which is an Officer we call a Commissary here at ●●aris. Don Pedro being in Bed, hasted to put ●n his , being as much in wrath as ever ●hy poor drowsy creature was at his first waking. But whilst he is dressing himself and sending for a Commissary, let us step back and see ●hat they are doing at Victorias. It fortuned ●at the Notes came safely to the brace of lovers ●ands. Don Diego having received his first, ●●me likewise first to the Rendezvou, Victoria ●et him at the door and conducted him up to Chamber, where she left him with Elvira. I ●ill not trouble you nor myself, with the rection of the endearing expressions which passed ●twixt these young Lovers. Don Fernands ●ocking at the door gives me not time enough, ●●ctoria lets him in herself, after she had magfied the great service she did him by this attendance, for which the Amorous Blade gave ●ra thousand thanks, promising he would yet 〈◊〉 more for her, than all his former promises ●liged him to. She Leads him to another schamber, where she entreated him to stay a ●●ile for Elvira who was coming, and so locked ●m in without any light, telling him his Mi●ess would needs have it thus, but only till ●e could check her modest blushes, and then ●e would be visible again. This done, Victoria, ●th as much haste as it was possible, attires her ●f in all her bravery, with as much exactness ●●d curiosity as the short time would admit. She ●es into the Chamber where Don Fernand was, who had not the least suspicion but that it w●● Elvira, being no less young than she, and h●ving Gloves and others sweets about her according to the Spanish Mode of Perfumes ●mongst the Nobility. Hereupon Don Pedr● the Commissary and Santillane arrive. They e●●ter into the Chamber where Elvira was in p●●vate with her Servant. The young lover's we●● extremely surprised, Don Pedro at the first m●●tions of his wrath, was so far blinded with passion, that he was ready to run the party th●● row the Body with his sword, whom he took 〈◊〉 Don Fernand. The Commissary discovering was not he, but Don Diego, held back his A●● and bid him have a care what he did, since it w●● not the man he looked for, that was with 〈◊〉 Daughter: But Signior Don Diego de Marad●● a person of as great quality and wealth as 〈◊〉 Don Pedro at this behaved himself like a discr●● Gentleman, he quelled his first fury and chan●ing it into a milder temper, raised up his Daughter, who had cast herself upon her Knees at 〈◊〉 feet. He considered, that although this we●● an act against his former intentions, yet in tru●● it was as fair a Fortune as could be expected 〈◊〉 his dear Daughter. Santillane entreated Don ●●dro, the Commissary, and all those that were w●● them in the Room to follow him; he led to 〈◊〉 Chamber where Don Fernand was shut up w●● Victoria. They commanded the door to be o●ned in the King's Name. Don Fernand lett●● them in; seeing Don Pedro attended with 〈◊〉 Commissary, told them with a great deal of confidence's, that he had no body with him but his Wife Elvira de Silua. Don Pedro answered he ●as deceived, his Daughter being engaged to ●nother party; and for you pursued he, you cannot deny, but Victoria Portocarrero is your law●●l Spouse. Victoria then discovered herself 〈◊〉 her faithless Gallant, who was astonished beyond expression. She reproached his ingratitude, to which his silence was his only plea, as ●ell as to the Commissary when he told them 〈◊〉 could do no less in duty then carry him away 〈◊〉 Prison. In fine, his remorse of Conscience, ●●ar of Imprisonment, together with Don Pedros ●●thortations, who minded him of his honour ●●d reputation, joined to Victorias tears and ●●auty, nothing inferior to Elviras, and above 〈◊〉 some sparks of generosity still remaining in 〈◊〉 heart, notwithstanding all his youth, love 〈◊〉 change, and the new flames kindled by El●●ras bright eyes, made him hearken to reason ●●d justice, and Victorias great deserts and claim. 〈◊〉 tenderly embraced her, she being like to ●oon betwixt his arms, which no doubt but 〈◊〉 soft Kisses preserved her from. Don Pedro, ●on Diego, and fair Elvira shared in Victorias ●●ys; which infinitely transported both Santil●●●e and Beatrix to find their designs brought that perfection. Don Pedro applauded Don Fer●●nds goodness and wisdom for thus Nobly re●●ring the wrongs he had committed. The two ●●ung Ladies hugged each other with as great testimonies of Love, as if they had been sisters, 〈◊〉 Diego de Maradas made a thousand protestations of obedience to his Father in Law, or h●● that should be so in a short season. Don Pedr● before he took his Daughter home with him made them plight their mutual faith and promises, and Engage that they should all com●● and Dine the next day at his House; where fo● fifteen days following he would endeavour 〈◊〉 disband their former troubles, by their future pastimes and divertisements. The Commissary was invited too, who engaged to make u● one at their merry meeting, Don Pedro too him along with him, and Don Fernand remained with Victoria, who had as much reason ●●bless her good Fortune now, as she had cause t● curse it formerly.   

CHAP. XXIII.  
An unexpected misfortune which hindered them from Acting the Comedy.  
INezilla told her story very gracefully: R●quebrune was so well satisfied with it, that h●● caught up her hand, and kissed it whether sh●● would or not. She said to him in Spanish, tha● great persons and fools had the liberty to d●● ●ny thing; for which Rancour gave her thanks 〈◊〉 his heart. This Spanish Lady's beauty began 〈◊〉 decay; yet were there many footsteps and relics of her former handsomeness to be seen, ●ut had she been less fair, the ingenuity she was ●●ill Mistress of, made her deserve to be preferred before most youthful people, that had fresh●● faces indeed, but wanted her sparkling wit. ●ll those that heard her story, agreed in this, ●hat she had told it very pleasantly, though in Language she was but yet a Scholar in, being oftentimes compelled to make use of some Spanish and Italian Phrases to express her mind. ●adam Star told her, that instead of craving ●ardon for having put her to this trouble, she expected her thanks for giving her so fair an ●ccasion to show her ready wit and judgement. ●he rest of the afternoon was spent in conversation, the Garden being full of Ladies, and ●any Citizens of Note till Supper time. They ●upped after their Country mode; that is to say ●t very plentifully, which being over, every ●ne took their place to see the Play: But Madam ●ave and her Daughter were missing: They sent 〈◊〉 seek them out; and it was half an hour at ●east before any tidings came. At last they ●eard a great rumour without the Hall, and presently after in comes Madam Cave, with her ●air hanging about her ears, her face bloody ●nd bruised, crying out like a distracted creature, that her Daughter was stolen away. Her ●bbs and sighs did so interrupt her speech, ●●at it was a long time before she could make them understand, how a couple of strangers, being gotten into the Garden, by a back door where she and her Daughter were repeating their Parts, one of them ceased upon her, whose eyes she had almost scratched out of his head seeing two others force her Daughter to go with them; the same Rascal having put her into that sad condition as they saw, and afterwards mounting on Horseback followed his Comerades whilst they fled away with Angelica: She told them likewise, that she pursued them as far as she could; crying out a Rape, but finding no body was within hearing, she hasted back again to the house to beg their assistance. Having said this she: fell into such a fit of weeping, as made al● their very hearts ache with grief. The whole company was disturbed. Destiny, got to horse upon a beast that had newly brought Ragotin to the place, I cannot justly tell whether or not i● were the same that threw him in the morning 〈◊〉 Many other young men took the first horses they could lay hands on, and Road after Destiny who was gotten a good way before them. Rancour and Olive marched a Foot with their swords in their hands, in the rear of the horse; Roquebru●● stayed with Star and Inezilla, who were indeavoving to comfort Cave as much as they could. I● was somewhat wondered at that he did not go along with the rest, some believed it was for wan● of courage, but others thought it rather discretion to stay with the women. In the mean time the wedding guests were forced to change their Comedy for dancing, and having no Fiddler because they expected a Play, two or three sung ●e newest tunes they could hit upon, and the ●est Footed it after the Mansean Fashion. Poor ●ave was so overcome with grief, that she went 〈◊〉 bed in one of the Chambers allotted for their Tiring; Star took as much care, as if she had ●een her Mother, and Inezilla was very officious ●●kewise. The afflicted woman desired they ●ould leave her alone, so Roquebrune leads the too Ladies to the rest of the Company that ●ere Dancing. Hardly were they sat down, but ●ne of the house-maids, came and told Star, that Cave desired to speak with her; she promised ●he Poet and the Spanish Lady to return immediately to them, and went up to the Chamber. 〈◊〉 Roquebrune had any thing in him, no doubt ●ut he made good use of that opportunity, and ●ise vere his heart to Inezilla. However, as ●oon as Cave faw Star, she prayed her to shut the ●oor and come to her bedside. Star having sea●ed herself as she desired, the first thing she did, ●as to weep so abundantly, as if she had not dropped one tear before, and then wring her ●y the hands, she groaned and sighed most lamentably. Star bid her be of good cheer, ma●ing her hope, her Daughter would soon be recovered again, being pursued by so many sever●● people. I wish she may never return, said she, ●eeping still more and more; I wish she might ●ever, be found repeated she again, and that this ●ight be all my grief: But I blame her most, must blame her most, and have reason to hate ●er, and grieve that ever I brought her so unhappily into the world. Look here! said she putting a Paper into Stars hands, look and satisfy yourself, what a pure companion you had of her and read the Sentence of my Death, and my Child's infamy in this one scroll of Paper. Cav● continued her weeping still, and Star perused th● Note, which contained the following Lines.  YOU have no reason to doubt of the truth of what 〈◊〉 have often told you of my birth and fortune, sin● there is no probability I would go about to deceive her who can never be won but upon a score of the trut● and sincerity of my Protestations. I know no other way, fairest Angelica, to deserve your favour: An● therefore you may safely sign my Petition and Request, which I cannot, nor shall not desire to obtain till I have made it appear, I am the same, I have pretended, by such infallible testimonies, as sha●● convince you of my reality. 
When she had run over these things, Cave asked her, if she knew that hand? As well as m● own, replied S●ar; this is Leander my brother Servant, that writes all our parts. This is the Traitor that murders me, said the poor woman see if he have not plotted fairly, pursued she giving another Letter of the same Leander's writing into Madam Stars hand, which you ma● read as follows, word for word.  IT rests only in you to complete my happiness, 〈◊〉 continuing in the same resolution you had tak● two days since. My Father's Tenant, who is ●o●●● ●o supply me with moneys, hath furnished me with a hundred Pistoles, and a brace of good Geldings, which will be more then enough to carry us both into England; and being there, I am much deceived, if a Father, who loves his only Son and Heir, more than his own life, do not quickly condescend to all his desires to make him return again and live happily. 
Well, said Cave, what think you now of your friend, and your Brother's man, of that Girl that I had bred with so much care, and that young fellow whose quick wit and ripe judgement we so often admired. But my greatest wonder, is that they were never observed to speak to one another; nor did I ever find her inclined in the least to such a foolish love, and passion: and yet we find it so, my dearest Star, and she hath showed herself so desperately besotted, that it declares as much of madness, as of affection. I found her this day writing to her Leander in such passionate expressions, that if I had not surprised her myself, the world could not have persuaded me it was so. You never heard her speak such Language yet; ah, had I not torn her Letters in my fury, you would be convinced, that at sixteen years old, she knows as much as those that have made love their study double her Age. I carried her aside into that Grove, whence she was taken from me, to chide her for the trouble and ingratitude she returned me, for all the pains and toil I have endured for her sake: I will relate my sufferings to you, and then judge you, whether ever any Daughter, were more obliged to a Mother than she should be to me. St●● knew not what to answer, to these just complaints, nor did she think it wisdom to stop the current too suddenly. But, continued Cave, if he were so fond of the Daughter; wherefore, should he be so uncivil, nay cruel, to the Mother; For one of his confederates that took hold of me, beat me most unmercifully, nay, struck me divers times, after I had given over struggling with him: And if this fellow be so Rich as he brags, why does he steal away my Child like a Theer. Cave thus bemoaned herself for a long while, Star giving her the best advice she was then capable of. The master of the house came to inquire how she fared, and to let her know there was a Coach ready at her Service, if she desired to return to Manse. But she begged the Liberty to remain there that night, to which he readily condescended. Star kept her company as long as she stayed there and some of the Ladies took Inezilla into a Coach with them, she being unwilling to be longer from her husband. Roquebrune, who could not civility leave the two women alone behind him, was very sorry he could not wait upon Inezilla; But we cannot have every thing we desire in this world.  
The end of the First Part.    

THE Comical Romance. The Second Part.  

Which serves but for an Introduction to the rest.  
THE Sun shined directly on our Antipodes, and lent his Sister no more light than just would serve to grope out her way in a very dark night: Silence reigned over all the earth, unless in some certain places haunted with Crickets, Owls, and musical Lovers, scrubbing of doleful Serenades under their Mistresses Balcones. I say, every thing in nature slept, or aught to have been sleeping, some pitiful Poets excepted, whose brains were broken with hard Rhimes; some damned unfortunate Lovers, and other rational or irrational animals that had that night somewhat else to do. It were unnecessary to tell you that Destiny was one of those that did not sleep, no more than Madam Angelica's Ravishers, whom he pursued as fast as his Horse could gallop, from whom the envious Clouds did often take away the feeble light of the Moon: He tenderly loved Madam Cave, because she was very lovely, and he was sure to be loved again, whose daughter was no less dear to him; besides that, his Madam or Mistress Starr being necessitated to continue her acting of Plays, could not amongst all the troops of wand'ring Comedians, have met with two Actresses more virtuous than they were: I do not say but there are some of that Profession that are such; but in the opinion of most people, they are not so well stored with Virtue, as they are with Paint and old Embroidery; but perhaps such are deceived, and wrong those Virtuoso's. Our generous Comedian rid therefore after those Ravishers with more haste and animosity, than the Lapiths after the Centauris: He first rod down a long Lane, which led from the Garden door whence Angelica had been hurried; and having galloped some time, he run at random into a deep way, as most of those in the Country of maine are. This Road was full of holes and stones, and though it was Moonlight, yet was it so duskish, that Destiny could make his Horse go no faster than a Trot: He cursed the bad way in his heart, whilst at the same instant he felt either a Man or a Devil leap up behind him on his Horse's Crupper, who threw his arms about his neck. Destiny was much affrighted, and his Horse so startled, that he had thrown him off, had not the Fantome, who hugged and embraced him, kept him secure in his Saddle: His Horse posted away as scared horses use to do, and Destiny put him on with his Spurs, not minding what he did, being very little pleased to feel two naked arms about his neck, and a cold Nose snuffling behind his ear, and keeping exact time with his horses gallop. The Race was long, because the way was not short, and the Devil drove: But in fine at the entrance into a Plain, the Horse moderated his pace, and Destiny his fear; For by degrees we at length learn to endure the greatest troubles. The Moon then afforded light enough to let him see that he had a great naked ugly Villain behind him, gaping and staring upon him: He never asked him who he was, (I cannot tell whether it were out of discretion) but he made his Horse continue on his Gallop, though he were very much out of breath; and when he least hoped for it, the unwelcome Crupper-rider threw himself down, and there lay laughing. Destiny put his Horse forwards with speed, and turning his head back, he beheld his Fantome running with great swiftness towards the place from whence he rod; he hath since confessed, that one cannot possibly be more affrighted than he was: about a hundred paces thence he found a great Road that led him to a Hamlet, where he heard all the Dogs in an uproar, which made him guests that those he pursued might have passed that way, and given the alarm to those faithful guardians: To inform himself therein, he did what he could to awaken the inhabitants that were sleeping in three or four houses that stood next the highway; but he could get no audience, and was only grumbled at by their Dogs: yet having at length heard the cries of children in the last house, he made them open the door with his threaten, and was informed by a woman in her Smock, who could not speak without trembling, That some Soldiers had passed throw the Village but lately, and carried a woman along with them, who cried out very fiercely, so that they had much ado with her: he told the woman his rencontre of the naked man, and she replied, that he was a fellow of their Village, who having lost his little wits, ran about the Country to find them. The information this woman had given him of those Soldiers that had passed the same way, encouraged him to go on, and made him spur his beast with more confidence. I shall not tell you how often he stumbled, and was afraid of his own shadow; it shall suffice to let you know that he lost his way in a Wood, and that sometimes having no light at all and at best, but a very little glimmering of the Moon; at the last he found it break of day jus● by a Farm, wheré he thought fit to bait his Horse 〈◊〉 and there we leave him.   

CHAP. II.  
Of the Boots.  
WHilst Destiny was thus running at random after those that had stolen away Angelica; Rancour, and Olive, who did not take that misfortune so much to heart, did not make so much haste as the former after those Ravishers; and besides, they were on foot. They went not far, before they met in the next Village with a good Inn that was not yet shut up, where they desired a Lodging: The people led them into a Chamber, where was already in bed another either noble or ignoble, Traveller, who had supped, and being commanded to make all possible speed, about some business that is unknown to me, intended to be gone very early the next morning. The arrival of these Comedians did not contribute much to his design of being early on horseback; for he was waked by them, and perhaps cursed them for it in his thoughts; but the presence of two such gentile blades did perhaps hinder him from expressing it to them. Rancour, who was of an acosting carriage, did presently make some excuse for their having interrupted his rest, and withal asked of him, whence he came? He told him he was come from Anjou, and going into Normandy, for a business that required haste. Rancour dis-robing himself whilst they were airing his sheets, continued his questions: which being needless to either party, and the poor wakened. Traveller finding no end in them, he entreated him, to let him sleep. Rancour made him some very cordial excuses thereupon, and at the same time, Charity beginning at home, and the love of one self, making many oft forget what they own their Neighbours, made him design to appropriate a pair of new Boots, which a Boy had newly cleaned and brought into the room, to his own use. Olive, who at that time had no other intention but to sleep sound, got into the bed, and Rancour remained by the fire side, not so much to see an end of the Faggot which was burning, as to content his noble ambition of gaining a new pair of Boots at another's cost: When he guessed the fellow, whom he was going to rob, to be duly and truly asleep, he took the Boots which lay at the bed's feet, and having put them on his bare legs, not forgetting to buckle the spurs in their usual place, he crept into the bed to ●is Companian Olive: you must think, that he lay as near the edge of the bed as possible, for fear his armed legs should wound his bedfellows bare ones, who would not have concealed his so new-fashion night-hose, and so must have rendered his plot abortive. The rest of the night was passed over very quietly. Rancour slept, and the rest waked not; The Cocks crowed; the day peeped, and the forementioned Traveller, called for a fire, and dressed himself: It came now to the Booting old himself; a servant Maid presented him Rancours Boots, which he fling back with a rage; they assured him they were his own, he gins to grow ●ot, and made a most devilish noise. The Host ●omes up into the Chamber, and swore by the Faith of an Innkeeper that there were no other Boots then those, not only in the house, but ●n the Village, the Curate himself never using to ●ide on horseback; Thereupon he gins to prate to him of the good qualities of the Curate, and the manner how he came by his Cure, and for how long he had held it: This prattling of mine Host made him lose all patience. Rancour and Olive, who were wakened with the noise, took cognisance of the business, and Rancour exaggerated the enormity of the case, and told the Host it was very ugly. I look no more upon a pair of new Boots, than I would do upon an old shoe, said the poor bootless Plaintiff to Rancour; but I am concerned in a business of great Importance, for a person of Quality, whom I would less fail then my own Father; and could I meet with a pair of the worst Boots in the world, I would give the owner more for them, than he could reasonably ask. Rancour, who had raised himself up in his bed, shrunk up his shoulders from time to time, and answered him nothing, casting his looks towards the Host, and the Maid, who sought the Boots in vain, and then on the unhappy wight that had lost them; who in the mean while cursed his Misfortune, and perhaps meditated upon some Tragical resolution; when Rancour with an unparallelled generosity, not very usual in him, said aloud, creeping into the bed, like one that is almost dying for want of sleep, 'Slid Sir, make no more noise about your Boots, and take mine; but upon condition that you leave us to ●ur rest, as you desired us to●le●● you last night. The unfortunate fellow, who wa● so no longer, since he had found a pair of Boots could hardly be persuaded to believe what he the● heard: He made a great medley of new-coined Compliments in so passionate a tone, that Rancour was afraid he would in the end come and embrace him in the bed; wherefore, he cried our angrily, and learnedly swore; 'Sdeath, Sir, ho● troublesome you are both when you lose your Boots, ar● when you return thanks to them that furnish you again. In the name of God I tell you once more, take min●, f●● which I only crave that you would l●t us sleep quietly, or else give me my Boots again, and make as much noise as you please: He opened his mouth to reply when Rancour bawled out; for God's sake either let me sleep, or else leave my Boots here. The Master of the house having a great deal of respect for one who spoke so positively, thrust his importunate Guest out of the Chamber, who would not else have given over; so great was his resentment, for a pair of Boots so generously bestowed: He was forced therefore to retreat out of the Chamber, and Boot himself in the Kitchen, and then Rancour slept more securely than he had done all the night before, his faculty of sleeping being no longer disturbed betwixt a desire of stealing, and fear of being surprised in the Fact; as for Olive, who had made a better night on't, he risen very early in the morning, and calling for Wine, past his time in drinking, having no other employment to divert him; Rancour slept till eleven of the Clock: As he was dressing himself, Ragotin came into the Chamber; He had visited the Comedians in the morning, and Madam Star, having reproached his want of Friendship, since he went not with ●he rest to find out her Compagnon, he promised ●er not to return to Manse, till he had learned some intelligence; but not being able either to ●orrow, or hire a Horse, he could not have performed his promise, had not his Miller lent him 〈◊〉 Mule, which he mounted without Boots, and arrived as I just now told you in the same place where the two Comedians had lodged. Rancour having a very quick apprehension, he no sooner espied Ragotins she's, but he imagined that fortune had furnished him with a very fair cover to ●ide his theft, which had not a little perplexed him: He therefore, immediately entreated him to lend him those shoes, and take his Boots, which hurt his feet because they were new. Ragotin changed them very willingly; for riding his Mule, a thorn had through his Stockings so wounded his legs, that he wished them armed with Boots. It was ●ow Dinner time, Ragotin paid for the Comedians and the Mule, ever since his fall, when his Ca●abine got betwixt his legs, he made oath that he would never mount any Beast, without taking all the caution and security imaginable: He therefore took an advantageous rising to get up at, but with all his circumspection he could hardly seat himself fully in the Pad-saddle: His brisk nature ever outrun his judgement, and this had made him inconsiderately draw up Rancours Boots so high, that reaching up to his twist, they hindered him from bending his little knees, which were not the most vigorous in the Province. But in fine, Ragotin upon his Mule, and the Comedians on the hoof, took down into the next way that lay before them, and travelling forward, Ragotin discovered to the Players the design he had to be an Actor, protesting likewise, that although he knew he should quickly prove the best Comedian in France, yet he pretended not to make any gain by that Trade, which he would only practise out of curiosity, and to make it appear that he was born to accomplish what ever he would undertake. Rancour and Olive fortified him in his noble design; and with their much commending and encouraging of him, put him into so good a humour, that he fell a reciting some Verses (of Pyramus and Thisbe, written by the Poet Theophile) as he sat on his Mule: some country people who went along with a Cart, that was loaded, the same way they did, believed that he Preached the Word of God, hearing him declaim like one inspired; and whilst he repeated they walked along by him bareheaded, and reverenced him like an Itinerant Priest.   

CHAP. III.  
The History of M rs. Cave.  
THE two women Actors whom we left in the house whence Angelica was stolen, had slept ●s little as Destin●. Madam Star was gotten in●o the same bed with Cave, that she might not ●e left alone with her despair, and to endeavour ●o persuade her not to afflict herself so much as ●he did: In fine, judging that a just affliction did not want reasons to defend itself, she opposed ●t no longer with hers; but for diversion, she gins to bemoan her own misfortune, as the other did hers; and by this means easily engaged her to tell her all her Adventures, which she the more readily assented to, because Cave could not suffer any one to compare their troubles to hers: She therefore dried up her tears, which dewed her cheeks abundantly, and fetching a very deep sigh, as knowing it more becoming to do so once for all, then to interrupt her Story too often with such abrupt stops, she thus began her History.  
I Was born a Comedian, the Daughter of a Comedi-an, whose Parents, as I ever was informed, were all of the same profession. My Mother was a Merchant's daughter of Marseilles, who gave her in marriage to my Father, for a recompense of having ventured his life for him, against an Officer of the Galleys, who attaqued him upon advantage, he being as amorous of my Mother as he was hated by her. This was a good Fortune for my Father, since without Courtship they be stowed on him a Wife that was young, and  than a country Comedian could have ever hoped for. His Father in law endeavoured all he could to make him leave off that Trade, propounding more honour and profit in taking upon him Merchandizing: but my Mother, who was hugely pleased with Comedies, hindered my Father from leaving it: He had no repugnance against the persuasions of his Wife's Father, knowing better than she could, that an Actor's life is not so happy as it appears: My Father went from Marseilles a while after his Nuptials; carrying my Mother to make her first progress, who was more eager than himself, and became in a short time a most rare Player: She was with child the first year of her Marriage, and brought me into the world behind the Theatre; a year after I had a Brother, who loved me extremely well, as I loved him: Our Company was composed of our own Family, and three other Actors, whereof the one was wedded to a Comedian that played a meaner part: We passed one day throw a Hamlet of Perigort, and my Mother, the other Actor and myself, were upon the Wagon that carried our goods, and our men guarded us on foot; when our small Train was set upon by seven or eight villains, so drunk, that having shot off a fowling Piece to frighten us, I was covered with a shower of the small Shot, and my Mother hurt in the Arm: They seized my Father, and two of his compagnons, before they ●uld put themselves in any defensive posture, and ●eat them cruelly: my Brother and the youngest ●f our Actors fled, and since that time I could ne●er recover the least news of him: The Inhabitants ●f the Hamlet joined with those that committed ●his insolence, and made our Wagon return again that way it came; They marched very fast and precipitately, as those that have gotten a rich Booty, and are in haste to secure it, and made so confused a noise they could not understand each other: After an hours hurry, they drove us into a Castle, where as soon as we were entered, we heard several people cry out with a great deal of joy, That the Gypsies were Trapan'd; By this we knew they were mistaken, for those we were nothing of kin unto, and that afforded some kind of consolation. The Mare that drew our Carriage fell down dead through weariness, having been so overdriven and cudgeled; The Player to whom it belonged, and who hired it out to the company, shrieked out as pitifully, as if she beheld the death of her husband. My Mother at the same instant fell into a swoon with the pain of her Arm; and my noise and moan for her was greater than the others for her Mare. The great clamour which we, and those savage Drunkards that brought us prisoners made, caused the Lord of the Castle, with some four or five other ill complexioned Scarlet Cloaks that followed him, to come out to us. He at the very first word, asked Where those thieving Gypsies were, and put us in alarm; But finding none amongst us, but fair people, he demanded of my Father what he was, and had ●● sooner information that we were unhappy Comedians, but with an Impetuosity, which surprised us, and many of the most fearful Oaths tha● ever I heard, he fell upon those that had taken u● with his Sword, who vanished in a moment, som● as much hurt, as the rest were scared. He cause my Father to be unbound with his companions commanded to conduct us Females to a Chamber and put all our baggage into a secure place: Several domestic servants presented themselves to serve us, and prepared a Bed for my Mother● who found herself much discomposed with the wound on her Arm. A fellow who had the Mee● of a Steward, came and made several excuses o● his Lord's behalf, for what had happened: He told us, that those Rascals, who were so unfortunately mistaken, were driven out of the Castle, either well beaten or lamed; that they had dispatched away a messenger to the next Village to bring back a Chirurgeon for my Mother; and made a very hot inquiry whether or no we had lost any thing, wishing us to have our Trinkets searched, to know whether any thing were wanting. At supper time they brought us a very handsome Treat into our Chamber; the Chirurgeon they had sent for came; my Mother's Arm was dressed, and she put to bed, in a very high Fever. The next day, the Lord of the Castle caused all the Comedians to be brought before him; He informed himself of my Mother's condition, and vowed she should not stir thence till she were perfectly recevered: He had so much goodness also, as he caused a strict search to be made all about those parts for my Brother and the young fellow that made their escape together; but they could not be retrived, and this added much to my Mother's former Fever. They also had a Doctor and another Chirurgeon more expert than he that had first dressed my Mother's wound; and, in fine, the civil entertainment they made for us, made us soon lose the Memory of their former violence. The Gentleman with whom we were was very rich, more feared then beloved in the Country, severe in all his actions as a Governor of a Frontier Garrison; and one that had the Reputation of being Valiant as much as could be desired: He was called the Baron of Sigognac; by this time he is at the least a marquis, and at that time, he was the very Tyrant of Perigord. A crew of Gypsies that had nestled within his Precinct, had stolen some Horses from a Farm that he had within a League of his Castle, and the people he sent to pursue them had mistaken us to our Cost, as I have already related. My Mother perfectly recovered, and my Father and his Comerades, to express their acknowledgements, as much as poor Comedians could do; for their Civility and Care, proffered to act in the Castle, as long as the Baron of Sigognac would require them: an overgrown Page of at least four and twenty years old, who might have been the Dean of all the Pages in the Kingdom; and another, a kind of Gentleman-waiter, learned the parts my Brother and the other young fellow, that slipped away with him should have Acted.  
The rumour of a Comedy to be Acted spread round about the Country, many of the Perig●rli●● Nobility was invited, and when the Page had perfectly learned his part, which was so difficult for him to attain to, that they were forced to contra● it, and reduce it all into a Distich '; we represented Rogiero and Bradamant, written by Garnter th● Poet. There was a very good Audience the Ha● well lighted, the Theatre very convenient, and the Scenes fitted to the subject; we strained to d● our utmost, and had the good fortune to succeed: My Mother appeared as beauteous as a● Angel, armed like an Amazon, and being newly recovered of her Malady, that had left a Whiteness more than ordinary; she out-shone the very Tapers that illuminated the place. But what great cause soever I have now to be sad, yet can not I forbear laughing when I remember that day and the pleasant manner of the great Pages acting; my melancholy must not rob you of this Mirth: but perhaps you will not find it such; ye● I must assure you that it made the whole Company laugh hearty, and hath often made m● laugh since at the least remembrance of it whether it were that there was somewhat worth the laughing at, or that I am one of those that am easily moved to laughter, I leave to be judged. He acted a part very proper to him, which was the old Duke Aymons Page, and had but two lines to speak in all the Play: his Cue coming after that old man● having terribly stormed against his Daughter Bradamant for not espousing the Emperor's Son, being enamoured with Rogero; the Page says to his Master in Rhyme; as all the whole piece is.  
Sir, let's retire, you'll fall if you do se●'t  
You are too weak to stand upon your Feet.  
This great Sot, although his part were thus ●●ort and easy to remember because of the ●hyme, yet must needs falter, and speaking ●●ke a disciplined Monkey, trembling like a con●emned Cutpurse, corrupted it thus,  
Sir, let's retire, I fear you'll fall, d'ont feet!  
You are too weak to stand upon your legs.  
This foul mistaken Rhyme surprised the whole Company. The other that acted Armon, burst out into a laughter, and could not possibly compose himself again to personate the choleric old man: The whole Audience laughed no less, and I my ●elf, who stood peeping out at the opening of the Curtain to see and to be seen, had almost killed myself with giggling at this pleasant passage. The Master of the Castle, who was one of those melancholy persons that seldom laugh, and do not laugh at every trivial thing, found so much cause for laughter in his dull Pages want of memory, and his mouthing of what he said, that he had like ●o stifle himself with endeavouring to keep in his laughter and preserve his Gravity: but, in fine, he was forced to laugh as loud as the rest, and his Servants swore they never saw him do the like before; and as he had acquired a great deal of Authority in the Country, there was not one in the whole Audience that did not imitate him i● this fit of Mirth, either out of complaisance, or the jest. I justly fear, said Mistress Cave, I ha●● done like those that say, I will make you laugh t● you die with the jest; I mean to tell you, whi●● many times proves abortive: for I confess I ha●● made too great a digression about this api● Page. Not so, said Madam Star, I find it just 〈◊〉 good as you promised; It is true, it might appe●● more pleasant to those that beheld the action than it can to me that only hear it repeated, th● countenance of the Page, and suddenness of th● mistake adding a great deal to it, besides that th● time and place might conduce much to th● heightening of it, especially considering how natural it is to all people to laugh in consort, whi●● is here wanting. Madam Cave, made no other excuses for the tale, but took up the thread of he story where she had left off; After, said sh● that both the Actors and Spectators had laughe● their fill at this accident, the Baron of Sigogn●● would needs have his Page to return upon th● Theatre, to repair his fault, or at least to rene● the sport; but the Page the greatest Blockhead in nature, could not be persuaded to it, wha● ever command was laid upon him by the severest Master that lives. He looked upon his Misfortune with the same judgement as he acted, tha● is to say, very illfavouredly; and his passion which should have ended with our laughter had he been any thing wise, brought upon us th● greatest calamity that could ever have lighted upon us; our Comedy had the approbation of a●● the Company: The Farce that followed, pleased ●hem as much if not more, yet, than the Play, as it most commonly happens in any place out of Paris. The Baron of Sigognac, and the rest of ●he Gentry his Neighbours, took so great delight, that they most earnestly desired to see us ●ct again. Every Gentleman made some Present ●o the Actors, according to the liberality of his Genius; and the Baron led the Dance, to excite ●he rest by his example; and a new Comedy was promised at the next Holy day: We acted a full month before this Perigordi● Gentry, the Men and Women striving to outvie each other in their largess towards us; so that besides other things, and entertainments, the Company ●●wss pretty well furnished with cast . The Baron made us eat at his Table; his people contended who should be most serviceable, and often repeated to us how much they were obliged to us for having put their Master into so Gay and Jovial a humour, who was as it were quite changed since we had humanised him, only the Page beheld us as such who had stained his Reputation, and those two Verses, which every one in the Family, even to the very turn-spit had often in their mouths, was as a Dagger so often stuck in his heart; wherefore, in fine, he resolved to revenge himself upon some of our Company. One day when the Baron of Sigognac had made an Assembly of the Neighbourhood, together with all his Peasants, to free his Woods from a Company of Wolves which Rendevouzed there, and infested the Country; my Father and his Companions took each of them a fowling Piece, as all the Baron's Servants did: The unworthy Page was one of the Crew, and thinking h● had an occasion to execute his treacherous design against us, he no sooner beheld my Father with his Comerades separated from the rest, who were charging their Guns, and gave out the Powder and Shot to each other, but he shot amongst them from behind a Tree, and pierced my unappy Father with a brace of Bullets. His Companions being busy in upholding my Father, did not mind at first the following and seizing on the Murderer, who had time to make his flight, and quitted that Country: Two days after my Father died of his Wounds; my Mother was almost at Death's door through grief; and fell desperately sick again; and I was as much afflicted, as a girl o● my age could possibly be: my Mother's relapse continuing a great while; the rest of the Come●dians that made up our Troop took their leaves of the Baron of Sigognac, and went from thence to get places in some other Companies. My Mother continued sick above two Months, and a● length recovered, having received many testimomonies of Generosity and Bounty from the Baron of Sigognac, far different from the Reputation ●e had in the Country of the greatest Tyrant tha● ever ruled amongst them, though most of the Nobility and Gentry in those Governments are wont to be haughty and severe. His Servants who had ever found him to be without either civility or humanity, admired to see him live with us in that most obliging manner: They might have believed that he was enamoured with my Mother; but he spoke little to her, and rarely came into our Chamber, where we confined ourselves after my Father's Death. It is true indeed he often sent to inquire of her health, yet this was however ill spoken of in the Country, which we were afterwards informed of: But my Mother thinking she could not handsomely make any longer stay in the Castle with a person of his condition, had already designed to leave it, intending to retire to Marseilles to her Fathers: She therefore informed the Baron of her retreat, returned him innumerable thanks for all the favours she had received, and implored him to add to all his former Obligations, this last, which was to furnish her with some Horses and other conveyance to transport herself and Goods, to the next City, where she intended to sell what was least necessary, and therewith be furnished to prosecute her journey. The Baron appeared much surprised at my Mother's proposition, and she was no less startled at his silence, who would neither be Courted to promise, nor did he deny to assist her. The next day the Curate of one of the adjoining Parishes under his command, came and gave us a visit in our Chamber; He was accompanied with his Niece, a good natured, lovely Gentlewoman, with whom I had made some acquaintance; we left her Uncle and my Mother together, and went to divert ourselves in the Castle Garden. The Curate was a long time conversing with my Mother, and went not from her till Supper time: I found her very thoughtful, and asked her twice or thrice what made her so pensive, before she would answer me: Then I perceived her to weep, and tha● made me weep also: In fine, having caused me to shut the Chamber door, she told me, weeping still, That the Curate had informed her, the Baron of Sigognac was desperately in love with her; and moreover, had assured him that he so tenderly respected her, he had not till then dared, not would now offer to discover it to her without propounding in the noblest way of Marriage▪ Ending her Discourse, her sighs and tears so increased as they were like to break her heart: 〈◊〉 once more craved to know of her what she ailed, what my dear Daughter, said she, have I not discovered enough to let you know I am the most unhappy Woman alive? I replied that it was no● such great Misfortune for a Comedian to be made a person of that quality; Ha' poor Girl, answered she, how like a silly unexperienced Maid thou● arguest; If he can delude this good Curate to tempt me, and have no design to marry me, as he would make me fond believe, what violence must I not expect from a Man wholly enslaved to his passions? and if he means truly to take me for his Wife, and I should consent, what misery in this world can be comparable to mine, when his fancy changes? and how much will he hate me then, for having so inconsiderately loved me now? No, no Child, Fortune does not favour me so highly as you imagine, but having laid one persecution upon me already by depriving me of a Husband, that truly loved and was beloved by me, she now seems to threaten me with a fresh one, by forcing me to a second, who no doubt will ere long hate me, and make him become hateful to me. Her sorrow, which I thought to be without a cause, increased her troubles so fiercely, that it made her almost sink under the weight of them, whilst I was busy in undressing her: I comforted her the best I could, and urged all the reasons my youth could furnish me withal, not forgetting to allege the obliging and respectful manner wherewith that severest and harshest of men had lived with us, which I argued as a good presage; and especially the modesty he had shown in not offering without the mediation of a Friend to declare his affection to a person whose profession did not claim so much circumspection and caution in the management of his Amours. My Mother suffered me to say what I pleased, but went to bed very much disturbed, and was not at quiet all the night, nor took the least repose. I would have banished sleep from my own eyes too, but it was so powerful I was forced to yield, and so had as much rest as she wanted. She risen betimes, and when I waked, I found her dressed, and better composed in her looks and actions. I was willing to know what resolution she had taken; for to tell you the truth, I flattered my imagination with the future greatness, which I hoped to see my Mother attain to, if the Baron of Sigognac meant as he promised, and could allure her to consent to what he desired. The very thought of hearing my Mother called Madam, or the Baron's Lady, pleasingly took up my mind, and that ambition did by little and little seize upon my heart. Mrs. Cave, was thus relating her story, and Madam Star giving attentive ear to it, when they heard something walking in their Chamber, which seemed the more strange to them, because they remembered they had locked and bolted the door, mean while they still heard something stalk up and down: They asked who was there, but were not answered, and a moment after, Cave saw the resemblance of some body, heard it sigh, and felt it press somewhat rudely upon her feet: She raised herself half way up in her bed to look nearer what it might be that thus begun to affright her, and resolving to speak, put her head out of the bed, but then nothing appeared: The least Company gives us sometimes confidence; but sometimes again our fears are not diminished when divided: Cave was frighted because the object vanished, and Star was no less affrighted because her Bed-fellow was so. They sunk down into the Bed, hiding their heads under the , and creeping close to each other, being so hearty afraid, that they durst not speak a word to each other. In fine, Cave said to Madam Star, that her dear Daughter was dead, and this was her Ghost which came to bemoan itself by her. Madam Star was, perhaps, about to answer her, when they heard the same stamping again about the Room, Madam Star crept lower yet into the Bed than she was before, and Cave having re-assumed some confidence upon the belief that it was her Daughters, sat herself upright in the Bed, as before, and perceiving the same shape which before had appeared and sighed so sadly at her Feet, she reached forth her hand and felt something very hairy, which made her shriek out most hideously, and tumble down backwards upon her pillow: At the instant they heard a terrible barking in the Chamber, just as when a Dog is scared in the night with what he sees. Cave had now recovered her courage again, and looking earnestly at what it might be, plainly sound it was a large Greyhound that barked at the out cry she made. She spoke to him in a threatening tone and Dialect, which made him run towards a corner of the Chamber where he vanished. The valiant Comedian leaped out of her bed, and by the light of the Moon which darted through the Window, she discovered in that corner of the Chamber where the Fantosm Greyhound disappeared, a little Trap-door that came up the back way, concealed behind the Hang, He had some desire to have lodged upon the bed, for they soon guessed it to be one of the House-dogs that had stolen up by those private Stairs, and not daring to presume so far without their free consent, sighed Doglike, and made the best signs could be expected from a dumb creature by laying his forelegs upon the feet of the bed, & creeping under it, when Cave looked at him the first time. This could not at the very first take off the impression of its being her poor Daughter's Ghost in Stars opinion, who not having seen the Hound, could not easily be persuaded it was such: which though her affliction were great, yet afforded her some matter to rally at Stars Cowardice, and gave a pause to her History, till some fit time, when sleep might be less Welcome and necessary than it was at that season. The birth of day began to appear, they fell asleep, and rose again about ten a Clock, having been informed that the Coach which was to convey them to Manse was ready to set forth when they pleased.   

CAAP. IU.  
Destiny finds Leander.  
IN the mean time Destiny went from Village to Village, making inquiry for what he sought, but could hear nothing to purpose: He ranged over a great deal of Land, and made no halt till about two or three of the Clock, his own emptiness, and his Horse's weariness counselled him to return back to a great Town which he had passed a while before: He found a pretty comodious Inn, as lying upon the Road, and forgot not to inform himself, whether they had not heard of a Crew of Horsemen that had stolen away a Woman? There is a Gentleman above, that can tell you some tidings, said the Chirurgeon of the Town, who happened to hear his question; I believe he hath had some dispute with them, said he, and is come to the worst, I have just now applied a Cataplasm Anodine, and resolving upon a livid tumour which he hath on the Vertebrae of the neck, and I have dressed a great Wound he received in the Occiput. I would have Phlebotomized him, because his body is so full of Contusions; but he would not suffer it, though there is great need of ●it: He must needs have had some desperate fall, and received many dangerous blows that hath caused those Fractions and Contusions. This Country Chirurgeon took so much Pride in repeating his barbarous terms of Art, that although Destiny had left him, and no body gave attention, he continued his learned discourse a great while, till at length they came and hurried him away in much haste to let a good Woman blood who was dying of an Apoplexy In the interim Destiny was got up to the Chamber where the Chirurgeon had directed him; He found a young man there very well clad, with his head bound, and lying on a bed to repose himself. Destiny would have framed some excuses, for his having entered into the Chamber without his licence; But he was very much surprised, when at the beginning of his Compliment, the other raised himself up, and came to embrace him, making himself known to be Leander his Domestic servant, Leander, who had left him four or five days before, without taking any leave, and whom Cave imagined to be her Daughter's Ravisher. Destiny knew not in what manner he were best to speak to him, seeing him so well habited, and appearing with so good a mien; whilst he was consulting with his thoughts, Leander had time to recall his spirits; for at the first he seemed very much cast down; I am as much ashamed, said he, to Destiny, to have behaved myself with so little sincerity towards a person whom I so highly esteemed; but you cannot but excuse a young man, who before was happy in your knowledge, thought you to be of the same temper of the rest of your profession, and so durst not confide so far in you, as to discover a secret on which depends all the happiness of his life. Destiny, told him. That he alone could make it appear wherein he had failed in his sincerity. I have a great deal more to tell you, unless you have been informed of it already, replied Leander; but in the first place I must beg to know of you, what brings you to this place. Destiny related to him after what manner Angelica had been stolen; and said likewise, that he pursued her Ravisher, and was informed, at his coming to that Inn, that he had met with them, and could give him a fuller account. It is true, replied Leander, sighing, that I met them, and that I acted as much as was possible for one man to do against so many; but my Sword breaking in the body of the first I lighted on, I neither could rescue Madam ●ngelica, nor die in serving her, though I were resolved upon the one or the other: They put me into the condition you now behold me in, having amazed me with a huge blow on the head, and believing me past recovery, they hasted away with diligence; and this is all I can tell you of Angelica. I now expect a Servant of mine, that can tell you somewhat more; he followed them at distance, after he had horsed me upon a beast, which they regarded not, as being of little value. Destiny, demanded of him, why he left him without giving notice of it; whence he came, and who he was; no longer doubting but he had disguised both his Name and Quality. Leander confessed there was somewhat of truth in his doubt, and having laid himself down on the bed again, because the hurts he had received pained him very much, Destiny sat at the bed's feet, and Leander related to him, what you may read in the next Chapter.   

CHAP. V.  
Leander's History.  
I Am a Gentleman of a Family not a little known in the Province: I hope one day to have at least twelve thousand Livers per annum, provided my good Father would but die, who although he be above fourscore years of age, makes all those despair whose Fortune depends on his absence out of this world, or have any thing to do with him, because he is so healthy, that I do more fear he will never die, then hope to succeed him in three very handsome Farms, which are all his income. He would needs have me to be a Counsellor in the Parliament of Bretaigne, against my inclination; & to this end he put me very early to my Studies. I was a Scholar at la Flesche, when your Company came to Act. I saw Madam Angelica, and became so in Love with her, that I had not the power to do any thing else but what tended to express that love: I did more yet, for I had the confidence to tell her that I loved her, she was not offended with it; I wrote to her, she received my Letter, and did not show any tokens of disdain: After that, Madam Cave being obliged to keep her Chamber whilst she was sick at la Flesche, gave me the happy opportunity of frequently conversing with her Daughter: She would no doubt have obstructed our communications, being too severe for one of her profession, which seems to dispense with those that undertake it from that scruple and reservedness which she practices. After I was enamoured with her Daughter I forsook the College, and never miss one day to see them Act. The Father Jesuits would have reduced me to my devoir; but I could not be brought to submit to those crabbed Masters, after I had chosen the most charning Mistress in the world; your Servant was killed at the Playhouse door by some of our brutish Scholars, who all that year committed many insolences at la Flesche, being very numerous, and the Wine very cheap: That was the occasion partly that you quitted lafoy Flesche to go to Angiers. I could not take my farewell of Madam Angelica, because her Mother was never out of her eye; all I could do, was to appear before her, when she went, with the Characters of despair on my face, and tears in my eyes; a compassionate look which she darted on me, had like to have cost me my life. I bolted myself up in my Chamber, and wept the remaining portion of that day, and all the succeeding night; and as soon as the Sun arose, changing my habit for that of my man's, which fitted me exactly, I left him at la Flesche to sell my Scholar's equipage, and gave him a Letter for one of my Father's Tenants, who furnishes me with money when I demand it, with command to come to me at Angiers; so I followed after you, and overtook you at Duretail, where many persons of Quality that hunted the Stagg stopped you for seven or eight days. I proffered you my service, and you took me to wait on you, whether it were that you found the want of him that was murdered, or that my Garb and Looks which did not displease you, invited you to accept it: My hair, which I had caused to be cut very short, disguised me from the knowledge of those that had often seen me discourse with Madam Angelica: to which my man's mean apparel contributed much, making me appear quite other than I was in my own habit, which was most commonly above the common wear of Scholars: I was at first however discovered and known to Madam Angelica, who since acknowledged that she doubted not but my affection was extraordinary, since I forsook all other interests to wait on her; she was so generous as to dissuade me, and to bid me endeavour to retrieve my reason, which she found straggling; she entertained me a long while with so much coyness, as would have disheartened any man less amorous than myself. But, in fine with so much loving her, I engaged her to return me as much love again, as I had for her; and as your soul is above the common standard, so you easily perceived, that mine was above my low condition. I obtained your favour, and soon got the good will of all the Gentlemen of your company; nor was I hated by Rancour, who is thought by most to love no body, but rather hate all the world. I will not trouble you with the tedious repetition of such things as usually pass betwixt young persons who love one another, at every review or fresh conversation; since I doubt not but you are well read in those things yourself. I shall only tell you, that Madam Cave, mistrusting our private intelligence, or rather not mistrusting, but certainly knowing it, forbidden her Daughter to discourse at all with me, which she could not obey, but having surprised her writing to me, she treated her so severely both in public and private, that I had afterwards no great difficulty to dispose her to let me steal her away. I shall not be afraid to confess it to you, knowing you to be as generous as any man whatever, and as amorous at least as myself. Destiny blushed at Leander's last words, who went on in this manner, and told Destiny, That he had not left the Company but to put himself into a posture to execute his design; That a Farmer had promised to supply him with money, and that he hoped to receive some more of a Merchant's Son of St. Malo's, whose Friendship he was assured of, and who by the death of his Parents was lately become Master of a good Estate; he added, That by his friends means, he hoped to pass safely over into England, and when he was there to make his peace with his Father, without exposing Madam Angelica to the old man's anger, who without doubt would have made use of all the rigour a rich man hath the power to levy against a pair of Actors. Destiny made Leander acknowledge that by reason of his youth, and his condition, his Father could not but have accused Madam Cave of a Trapan. But he did not assay to make him take off, or extinguish his affection, knowing experimentally that Lovers are not capable of any counsel but what their own passion suggests, but are more to be pitied, then directed: But he highly disapproved the intention he had to go over into England, and represented to him what judgement would be made of two young persons together in a strange Country; together with the troubles and hazards of a Voyage by Sea, the difficulty of drawing our money if they should find themselves in want; and, in fine, the enterprise that Madam Angelica's beauty might put Foreigners upon, and many other like inconveniencies arising thereby. Leander would not plead an ill cause, but once more craved pardon of Destiny for having stood so long in the dark near him; and Destiny promised him all the assistance possible, and assured him he would make the best use he could of the power he thought he had with Madam Cave, to make her comply and become favourable. He told him moreover, that if he were absolutely resolved never to have any other but Madam Angelica, he were better not forsake the Company; for, said he, in some time your Father may possibly die, or your passion may abate, and perhaps vanish; at which words Leander cried out, that could never happen: Well then, said Destiny, for fear of the like on your Mistress' part, keep still in sight and play▪ Act with us, since it is now done very frequently by such as might possibly undertake to do better things; writ to your Father, making him believe you are in the Army, and endeavour to squeeze a good sum of money out of him: In the mean while we will dwell together like Brothers, and I shall strive by my future deportment to make a fair amends for the mean treatment you may have hitherto received at my hands, whilst I looked upon you as a menial Servant only, not a disguised Lover and Gentleman: Leander would have cast himself down at his feet, had not his wounds which disordered him very much tied him to his bed, but he made up the want of that by so many expressions of his civility and Obligations, and made likewise so many hearty vows of an unalterable and ready Friendship, that he from that time gained as great an esteem from Destiny as it was possible to beget in any man, after which they consulted of seeking out Madam Angelica; but a great noise suddenly coming to their ears did interrupt their conversation, and called Destiny hastily down into the Kitchen, where somewhat happened, as is related in the following Chapter.   

CHAP. VI  
A Cuffing Combat. The death of mine Host, and other Remarkable things.  
TWO men, one clad in Black like a Master of a Village, the other in Grace, who had the Mien of a Bailie, held one another by the Locks and Beards, and now and then boxing each other in a most cruel manner: Both the one and the other were what their habits or outsides spoke them to be. The fellow in Black was the Curates Brother, and the Gray-coat was a Bailie of the place, and Brother to mine Host. The Host was then in a Chamber next the Kitchen ready to give up the Ghost, having been so violently ceased on by a Fever, that it had made him almost distracted, insomuch as he had well-nigh beaten out his brains against a wall, and his broken pate, together with the Fever, had brought him so low, that when his frenzy quitted him, he found himself constrained to lose his life too; which he was perhaps less grieved at, than he was to leave his illgotten wealth: He had born arms a long while, and at last returning home to his Birth place, crazed with wounds, age and little honesty, of which he brought less home than of wealth, though he were poor: But, as Women are most times taken with that which should least of all tempt them, his greasy Periwig, which had more bush than the rest of the crop-eared Villages, his Camp Oaths, flaunting Feather, which he wore on fine days, and an old long rusty Rapier that clattered at his Breech and armed heels, for spurs were the ordinary mode in those days, though they had neither money nor credit to get horses; all this parade appeared gentile and charming in the eyes of an old Hostess Widow that was Mistress of the Inn: She had been wooed by the richest Farmers in that Country, not so much for her Beauty, as the Wealth she had scraped up in her former Husband's time, by long Bills, and short or scant measure; both in Wine, Beer, and Oats: But she had still withstood all these pretenders. When this old Soldier joining the Battailloons of Mars and Cupid in a body, assaulted her, and became Victor. The Visage of this Tavern Nymph was the least, and her belly the biggest, of all the women's in the Country of maine, although that Country does abound in large wembs; I leave it to the Naturalists to find the reason of this, as well as of the fatness of the Capons that are bred there: And to come to our little great Woman, whom methinks I see every time I do but think on her, she married her Soldier, without any advice or knowledge of her kindred, and after she had a long time watched with him, and suffered very much, she had the pleasure of seeing him die with a cracked Scull, which she attributed to a just judgement, because he had often: endeavoured to break hers. When Destiny entered into the Kitchen, this woman and her Maid were assisting the old Curate the Parish to part the Fray; But that was not so easily done, and therefore he put in his helping hand, and having first made them stand a little, though he could not so soon part them, as being grappled together like two men of War at Sea, be by his terrible threats made them, as I said, susspend a while their fury, which they submitted to out of respect to him who spoke very magisterially, though they had little minded their good Pastor's exhortations; so the two mortal enemies at length separated, spitting out a great deal of blood, and no small quantity of their teeth, whilst their Noses were besmeared with their gore, and their chins and pates bald and disfigured. The Curate was an honest man, and knew the world a little; He civilly thanked Destiny, and Destiny to please and satisfy him, made those Combatants embrace one another in Friendship, who but a moment before were doing so to strangle each other: During this accommodation, the Host ended his obscure fate, without advertising his friends: So that they found there remained no more to do, but only to inter him, when they afterwards went into his Chamber, after the peace had been concluded. The Curate made his prayers for the dead, and made them sweet for they were short; His Vicar came to assist him, and mean time the Widow began to howl and lament with much ostentation and vanity. The dead man's Brother either dissembled a great sadness, or was really so, nor were the serving-men and maids behind him in their mournings and sorrow▪ The Curate followed Destiny to his Chamber, making him proffers of service: He did the like to Leander, and they made him sit down and eat with them. Destiny, who had scarce eaten any thing that day, and had used exercise enough to procure him an eager Appetite, fell to it very fiercely. Leander fed himself with amorous thoughts more than with the provisions on the Board; and the Curate talked more than he eat: He related a hundred pleasant Stories of the dead man's Covetousness, and told them the extravagant quarrels that predominant passion had begot betwixt him, and his Wife and Neighbours; amongst others he described a journey which he had made with his Wife to Laval; at their return, the Horse which carried them both, having lost his foreshoes, he left his Wife standing under a tree, and holding the Horse by the bridle, till he went back to the place and had sought most diligently for the shoes all along the road they had traveled: but he lost his labour, whilst his Wife had almost lost her patience in waiting so long for him, he having walked at least four miles backward and forward, which made her almost despair of his return, till at length she perceived him trotting towards her , having tied his Boots and Stockings cross his shoulders: She was much amazed at this novelty; but durst not inquire the reason of it, his long obedience in the Army abroad, had taught him so well to command at home; neither durst she mutter at him, when he made her pull off her own shoes and and stockings, nor so much as ask him what his fancy therein was; but only she imagined it might be somewhat of Devotion or penance: So she took the Horse by the bridle, and he following behind cudgeled him forward, and thus all three, beat it on the bare hoof till they got home, which was not without infinite trouble to them all, it being past midnight  they arrived, being so foundered and battered, that they were not able in a whole fortnight afterwards to stand upon their galled feet: Never was he so well pleased with any former stratagem as with this▪ and every time it came into his memory, he would smile at the thrifty device, and say, Wife, had we not unshoed ourselves when we came from Laval▪ there had been two pair of shoes the more squandered away, besides the Horse-shoes, and our stockings to boot. Destiny and Leander were not much moved to laughter at this tale, which the Curate thought to be very taking; whether, it were not so pleasant in their opinions as in his, or they out of humour then, I know not: But the Curate, who was a perpetual talker, would not give over thus; but addressing himself to Destiny▪ he told him, That what he had just before related, was nothing to what he had yet to entertain him with, about the same persons preparing himself for death. It is at least four or five days since that he knew he must march off; yet never did he concern himself more for the expenses of his Family, grudging at every new laid Egg they dressed for himself during his malady; He would needs cast up the account of the charges of his Funeral, and made a bargain with me as soon as ever I came to confess him: and in fine, to end as he began, about two hours before his last gasp, he ordained his Wife to wrap his body in no other  then an old rag that had above a hundred tatters and holes in it: His Wife told him it would be too beggarly, but he was obstinately resolved to have no better; She could not possibly condescend, and knowing he was now not in a condition to beat her, she spoke more resolutely, than she yet had ever done to him, but yet did not forfeit the respect due to a Husband from a Wife: Wherefore she proceeded to ask him with what confidence he could think to appear thus in the Valley of Jehosaphat in that pitiful trim, when the time of the resurrection should come to pass. The sick man, began to be in wrath, and swearing as he was wont to do in his time of health: 'Sdeath, cried he, you slut, I will not appear at the Resurrection. I could as hardly forbear laughing, as I could make him comprehend that he had offended God, both by his being so angry at that season, and by the answer he gave to his Wife, which had somewhat of impiety in it. He made some kind of show of contrition, but we were fain to promise him that he should be wrapped in no other  then what he contended for: My Brother who broke forth into a laughter when he thus peremptorily renounced his Resurrection, could not contain himself afterwards every time he did but think on it. The dying man's Brother took an offence at it, and from words to words, my Brother and he being both alike brutish, succeeded to blows, and had laid good hold upon each other, after many repeated cuffs, and would perhaps have continued their uncivil war till now, had they not been timely parted. Thus did the Curate put a period to his relation, addressing himself to Destiny, because he perceived Leander lent him but little attention. He took his leave of the Comedians, after he had again proffered them his service, and Destiny endeavoured to comfort afflicted Leander, giving him the best hopes his thoughts could prompt him withal. And as much wounded as he was, the poor youth, from time to time gazed out of the Window to see whether his man were coming, as if that could have made him hasten his steps. Thus when we impatiently expect the return of some important message, the wisest are then foolish enough to cast their looks often that way they are to come; and with this observation I shall put an end to my si●t Chapter.   

CHAP. VII.  
Ragotins' panic fear, followed with disgrace. The Advenventure of the dead Corpse, another storm of Cuffing blows, and other accidents worthy of a place and mention in this true History.  
LEander thus looked out of the Chamber Window, towards the way his Servant was to come by, when turning his head accidentally, the other way, he perceived the little Ragotin, Booted up to the twist, mounted upon a small Mule, and having at either side of him, his two Pages, Rancour upon one hand, and Olive on the other. They had from Village to Village heard News of Destiny, and by a diligent and long March, had, infine, overtaken him at the fore mentioned place, Destiny went down Stairs to meet them, and made them come up into their Room: They did not at the first view know the young Leander, who had changed his Mien with his habit; and that they might not find out what he really was, Destiny commanded him to go and cause Supper to be made ready, with the same Authority he was wont to use; and the Comedians who thereby recovered their former knowledge of him, had no sooner said to him that he was very Gallant, but Destiny answered for him, and told them, that a rich Uncle of his in the Country of Maine, had clothed him Cap a Pe, as they saw, and withal, had furnished him with money to oblige him to leave acting, which he would not be drawn to, and therefore had secretly left him, without his knowledge. Destiny and the others, then inquired of each other the News of what they were in quest of, but could answer little. Ragotin assured Destiny, that he had left the Women in good health, though much afflicted for the loss of Madam Angelica. The night came on, they supped, and these new comers drank as freely, as the others had done sparingly. Ragotin began to be in a good humour; defied every one to drink, like a Tavern Hector; played the Drole, and sung his Song in despite of all the world; but not being seconded, and the deceased man's Brother in Law, having represented to the Company, how undecent it was to be thus frolic and debauched where a dead Corpse was, Ragotin made less noise, and drank more Wine. They went to bed, Destiny and Leander in the Chamber they had taken up before. Ragotin, Rancour, and Olive, in a little Chamber not far from the Kitchen, and adjoining to the room where the Corpse lay, that was not yet nailed in the Coffin. The Hostess lay in an upper Chamber next to Destiny's and Leander's lodging, which she chose because she would not have the sad object of her departed Husband so much in her eye, and that she might the better receive the Visits of a great many Friends that came to comfort, and to condole with her; for she was one of the greatest Dames in the Burrow, and had ever been as much beloved of them all; as her late Husband was hated. A general silence reigned in the whole Inn; the Dogs slept since they did not bark; and all other animals slept likewise, or at least ought to have slept, and this tranquillity lasted yet till three or four of the Clock in the morning, when on a sudden Ragotin cried out with all his might, that Rancour was dead; at the same instant he waked Olive; went to alarm Destiny and Leander, and made them come down into his Chamber to bemoan, or at least behold, Rancour, who suddenly died in the bed just by him, as he would make them believe. Destiny and Leander followed him, and the first object they met with coming into the room was Rancour, who was walking about the Chamber, like one that is very well, though that were very strange after a sudden death. Ragotin, who was the first that entered, had no sooner espied him, but he retreated, as one that is ready to set his foot on a Serpent, or in a hole: He gave a great shriek, became as pale as death, and rushed so fiercely against Destiny and Leander, when he threw himself backwards out of the door, that he had almost thrown them down: whilst his fear made him fly into the Garden, where he ventured to starve in the cold; Destiny and Leander demanded of Rancour the particulars of his Death and Revival. Rancour told them he knew not so much of it as Ragotin; and added, that he was not over wise: Olive in the mean while laughed like a fool; Rancour spoke little and but coldly, as his custom was, and neither he nor Olive would declare any thing further. Leander went after Ragotin, and found him hiding himself behind a bush, trembling more for fear then cold, though he were but in his shirt. His fancy was so possessed with his Companions death, that he at first took Leander for his spirit, and thought to fly when he drew near him: Thereupon Destiny arrived, whom he appehended to be another Fantome. They could not get the least word from him, whatever they said; so that, in fine, they took him by either arm to drag him to his bed: But at the same time that they were haling him out of the Garden door, Rancour being just coming in, Ragotin got lose from them, and threw himself, looking still behind him, into a hedge of Rosetrees, where he entangled himself from head to foot, and could not break through soon enough to avoid Rancour, who ran after him, telling him he was a fool, and must be bound or chained: These three at length pulled him out of the snare. Rancour gave him a good bang on his naked Breech, to evince him, that he was not a Ghost, and so in the conclusion the little fellow was led back to his Chamber and put to bed again: But he was scarce warm in the nest, when a Feminine clamour arose in the Neighbouring room, which put them to a stand to guests what it might be; it was not the moan of an afflicted Woman, but the horrid yell of many Women together, as if they had been frighted. Destiny went thither, and found fou● or five Women with the Hostess, who were searching under the beds, gazing up the Chimney, peeping behind the doors, and groping in every corner, with scared countenances; He demanded, what ailed them, and the Hostess betwixt howling and scolding told him, they could not imagine what was become of her dead Husband's body: Having done speaking, she fell again to howling, and the Women in consort answering her, who altogether made such lamentable and hideous noise, that every soul that was about the Inn, came into her Chamber, besides all the Neighbours and Passengers came thronging to the Inn. At the same instant a great Car having ceized on a Pigeon, which the Maid had left half larded on the Dresser, and retiring with the prey into Ragotins' Chamber, had hid itself under the bed where he and Rancour had lain: The Maid pursued it with a Faggot stick in her hand, and looking under the bed to see what was become of the Pigeon, she likewise cried out as loud as she could possibly, that she had found her Master, and repeated it so often, that at length the Hostess and the whose crew of Women came thither to her. The Maid hung about her Mistress' neck, telling her she found him, with so much joy, that the poor Widow feared her Husband was come to life again; for it was observed that she grew as pale as a condemned Prisoner. In fine, the Maid, bid them look under the bed; where they found the dead Corpse they were so troubled for; The trouble to get him thence, was not so great, though it were very heavy, as to know how it came there. They carried it back to his Chamber, and began to shroud it. The Comedians returned to their own; where Destiny lodged who could comprehend nothing of all this strange adventure; as for Leander nothing but his dear Angelica took up his thoughts, which made him as pensive, as Ragotin was sorry that Rancour was not dead, whose biting Railleries' had so mortified him, that he became silent, contrary to his nature, which was to speak eternally, and to be the chief in all Companies and Discourses, right or wrong. Rancour and Olive were so little surprised and moved at all this Panic terror, and the Transmigration of a dead Corpse from one Chamber to another without any humane assistance, at least any they knew of, that Destiny judged they had some hand in the Prodigy. Mean while the business was canvased in the Kitchen; a Cart-driver being come out of the fields to Dinner, having heard the Maid relate with great astonishment, how her Masters dead body, had risen of itself and walked in another room, told her, that passing along the Kitchin-window at break of day, he saw two men in their shirts that carried it upon their shoulders into the Chamber where she found it: The Brother hearing what this fellow affirmed, thought it very unhandsomely done; The Widow was quickly made acquainted with the story, and her Gossips too; and all of them were greatly scandalised therewith, and concluded infallibly, that those men must needs be Sorcerers, and designed to act some heinous mischief with that dead body: Just, as they were giving this Verdict of Rancour, he entered into the Kitchen, and bid them bring his Breakfast to their Chamber. The defuncts Brother asked him, wherefore he had carried the Corpse into his Chamber? Rancour far from giving any reply, would not so much as bestow a look on him: The Widow propounding the same question, and he shown the same indifference to her, though she had not the like for him; She flew at his eyes like a Lioness rob of her Whelps, (I am afraid the comparison is too Magnificent here) Her Brother in-law lent Rancour a sound cuff on the ear; the Hostesses she Champions would not spare him neither; the Servants had their hands in too: But one man's body had not place enough for so many blows, and they did but injure and hinder each other. Rancour, alone against a great many, and by consequence a great many against him singly, was not discouraged at the numbers of his enemies; but making a virtue of necessity, began to lay about with all the strength God had given him, leaving the rest to Fate. Never was unequal combat better managed; But Rancour keeping his judgement in the midst of these perils, made use of his wiles as well as his strength, dealing out his blows warily, that they might not light in vain: He gave some blows, that were not downright to the first he met with, and only sliding his hand along, as I may say, the same furious stroke reached to a third, perhaps a fourth cheek; most of his strokes walking round in a half circle; and these several strokes had each two or three differing sounds, according as the chaps they met with were more or less solid, or hollow. At the noise of these Combatants Olive descended into the Kitchen, and hardly had the time to find out his Companion amongst those that were baiting of him, ere he was set upon himself, and as hardly engaged as the other, whose vigorous resistance began to quell and cool their courage: Two or three, therefore of those that had been worst dealt with by Rancour; fell upon Olive, perhaps to regain their dying credit; The noise increased, and at the same time, the Hostess received a great blow in her little eye; which made her see a hundred thousand Candles (that is a certain; for an uncertain number) and put her quite out of the lists: She roared louder, and far more hearty at this, than she had done for her Husband's decease. Her bellow drew in more Neighbours, and summoned down Destiny and Leander; Though these came with a Spirit of peace, yet was there immediately a War denounced against them; They wanted not for blows, nor were they wanting to return them as stiffly back again. The Hostess, her Friends and Servants, cried out Thiefs, and were now become only Spectators of the Scuffle; some their eyes swelled, others with bloody Noses, the rest with battered muzles, and all unhooded and uncoyfed; The Neighbours took the women's part against those they termed Thiefs. It would require a sharper Pen than mine to represent the puissant blow were interchangeably given, and taken. A length, their animosity increasing, they began to cease upon Spits and other Arms, both offensive and defensive, flinging Stools, Pots and Pan's a● one another's heads, when the Curate came upon the spot, and endeavoured to make the combat cease; But in troth, whatever great respect they had for him, he had scarcely brought them to 〈◊〉 cessation had their own overgreat weariness no● contributed to it: all acts of Hostility were lai● aside; and every one willing to speak first, especially the Women with their whining tone, the poor man was fain to stop his ears at their confused wrangling, and run out of doors faster than h● came in. This quieted the most tumultuous, and called him in again to the place of Battle, and th● Brother-in-law, being ordained by him to spea● first, complained to him of the removal of the body into their Chamber so inhumanely: He had aggravated that unworthy act more than he did, had he not spit so much blood, besides what trickled from his Nose, which he could not stop. Rancour and Olive confessed all what they alleged, but protested they had not done it out of any evil design, but only to fright one of their Companions as they had done: The Curate reproved them very sorely, and made them apprehend the consequence of such an enterprise, which was not to be used in Raillery; and being a man of judgement, and one that had a great deal of Credit amongst his Parishioners, he found it easy enough to pacify them; so every one bare away what he had gotten. But unhappy discord with her Snaky locks, had not yet done all in that house which she intended to do: They heard an out cry above in the Chamber not much unlike that of a Hog that is stuck in the throat, and who should it be but little Ragotin. The Curate, the Comedians, and several others ran up to him, and found all his body, only his small head excepted, buried in a great Chest, wherein they used to lay their Sheets; and what was most unhappy for this poor entombed fellow, the lid of this Wooden Sepulchre, being very heavy, was fallen just upon his legs, and squeezed them so, that it was pitiful to behold. A lusty Servant Maid, who stood not far from him, when they came up, and who appeared very much disordered, was suspected to have thus entrapped and cased Ragotin: It was so, and she was proud of it, insomuch that being busied in making up one of the Beds in the Chamber, she would not vouchsafe so much as to look how they plucked small Jack, out of his box, nor give the least reply to those that asked her, whence that terrible noise proceeded which they had heard. Mean time, this little Epitome of a man was haled out of his Mousetrap, and was no sooner upon his legs and at liberty again, but he ran towards a Sword; They hindered him from seizing on that, but could not keep him from flying at the great Wench, nor her from discharging such a puissant blow upon his head, that the vast seat of his little reason was miserably shaken out of order: He retreated three steps, but this going backward was only to return with the greater fury, if Olive had not withheld him by his Breeches; just as he was going to leap like a nimble Serpent against his potent enemy. The bustle he made, though in vain, was very violent, the waist-band of his Breeches broke, and that broke the silence of the Spectators, who all fell into a laughter; The very Curate forgot his Gravity, and the Brother-in law his sorrow: only Ragotin bade no cause to be merry, whose anger now bend itself against Olive, who finding himself attaqued, lifted him quite from the floor, and carried him by strength of arm, to the bed which the Maid was just making, where with a Herculean strength, he pulled down his already torn Breeches, and raising up, and then letting fall his hand very nimbly upon his backparts, soon made them look all over as red as Scarlet: The undaunted Ragotin threw himself desperately down from the bed; but this daring attempt had not its deserved success: He slipped his foot into a Chamber-pot, which they had left at the side next the wall to his trouble, and there it stuck so fast, that notable to get it forth with the help of his other foot, he durst not come out of that corner for fear of making the Company laugh afresh at his disgrace, and begin again their Raillery, which he understood the worst of any one in the world. Every one admired to see him so quiet, and smooth of a sudden, after such a furious storm: Rancour imagined it was not without some cause, wherefore he led him forth, partly per force, and partly with good will, and then every one perceived where the shoe wrung him, nor could they forbear smiling to see what mettle it was made him halt so strangely. We will leave ●im kicking this Pewter Globe with a proud foot, ●o look after a new train of people coming at ●he same time into the Inn.   

CAAP. VIII.  
What became of Ragotins' Foot:  
COuld Ragotin by his own strength, and without the assistance of his friends have unpotted his foot, I mean, have drawn it out of the Pewter Gin, where it was so unhappily engaged, his anger would have lasted that whole day at least, but he was forced to abate somewhat of his natural Pride, and become meek, humbly entreating Destiny and Rancour to do their utmost towards the recovery of the liberty of his left or right foot, I cannot justly tell which. He made no address to Olive, because of the late contest betwixt them: yet Olive came to his relief without any invitation, and both himself and his two Associates did what they could to release him. The little Fellow's struggle to draw forth his foot himself, had made it swell very much, and their striving to wrench it out also, made it swell the more. Rancour had at first been very officious, but so unskilfully, or rather so maliciously, that Ragotin feared he had lamed him to● perpetuity; He prayed him earnestly not to trouble himself any more, and entreated the rest likewise to let it alone, and so laid himself down upon a bed till they should send for a Smith to file, or cut it off from his foot. The rest of that day passed over quietly enough in the Inn, and as sadly betwixt Destiny and Leander, the one very much troubled that his Messenger was not returned to bring him some News of his Mistress, as he had promised, and the other having no joy whilst absent from his dearest Madam Star; besides that, he resented the loss of Madam Angelica, and was grieved for Leander, upon whose face he beheld such Characters of a deep affliction. Rancour and Olive soon made a match with some of the Inhabitants of that Village, who were playing at Bowls, and after Ragotin had set the Smith to work about his weighty clog, which was artificially taken away, he slept the remainder of the day, whether he were drowsy, or ashamed to appear amongst those that were witnesses of his Misfortunes, I know not. The dead man, was carried to his last home, and the Widow, notwithstanding the thoughts and Image of death was yet in her mind, did not forget to make a couple of strangers pay unreasonably for what they had of her, who baited there in their passage from Britain to Paris. The Sun was newly set, when Destiny and Leander, who could not quit the Window, beheld a Coach and four Horses, followed by three Horsemen and four or five Foot men that stopped at the Inn. A Maid Servant, came and desired them to surrender their lodgding to the Company that was newly arrived, ●nd so Ragotin was forced to show himself, though ●e was more willing to be confined to his Cham●er, and followed Destiny and Leander into that other Room, where he thought he had seen Rancour give up the Ghost. Destiny was known in ●he Kitchen by one of these new comers, who was the same Counsellor of the Parlaiment of Renes, with whom he had contracted a kind of Friendship during the Wedding, which proved so unhappy to Madam Cave. This Senator of Britain demanded of Destiny what News they had of Madam Angelica, and seemed sorrowful that they had not found her. He was called la Garouffiere, which makes me imagine he was rather an Angevin then a Bretton, for we do not meet with more of the low Trettons names beginning with Ker, then of Angevins that terminate in Jere, of Normans in Ville, of Picards in Cor, and of the people Bordering the Garonne in Ac. To return to Mounsieur de la Garouffiere, he had wit enough as I have already told you, and did not look upon himself as a Country Gentleman only, having often quitted the place of his Birth, to spend his money and buy his breeding at the Ordnaries in Paris, clothing himself either in a Mourning or Festivous Garb, according to the Court standard, which being truly verified, and Registered, aught to be Patent not of absolute Nobility altogether; but of Non-Peasantry, or mere Citizen, if I may thus express it. Wit he had, moreover, as I say, which I infer from hence, because all the World almost is ambitious of being skilful in the Divertisements of Wit, as well those that really understand, as the Ignorant, Presumptuous or Brutish, who judge rashly both of Verse and Prose; although they think it some dishonour to write well, and would upon occasion reproach a man for having Printed some Books, as highly as if he had coined false money. The Comedians far the better for this fondness to Wit and Poetry; They are the more welcome in those places where they go to Act: for they being the Poet's Parrots or Magpies, and which is more, some of them being born to some small Talents in the Art, undertaking now and then to write a Play, either of their own stock, or of borrowed fragments, there is some honour and pleasure in being acquainted with them. In these days, we have in some measure done justice to their Profession, for they are far better esteemed of, than they were wont, and truly, our Comedians does afford the people an innocent and happy Divertisement, which at the same instant instructs and pleaseth; They being purged at least of late, of all that was profane or licentious. It were to be wished the houses were purged as severely from Pick pockets, Pages, and Footmen, and other ordures of the lower world, whom the hopes of stealing invites as much to come now, as the filthy Ribaldry and Farcing did heretofore. But now that Brothel-House jesting is quite abolished, and I dare affirm they have formerly approved and clapped up such pitiful, nay, Scurrilous Clinches and Equivocations, as would now make the most confident audience blush and hiss it down. But to end the digression, lafoy Garouffiere was raised with joy to meet Destiny at the Inn, and made him engage to sup with the Company that came in the Coach, which consisted of the Bridegroom that came from Manse, and his Bride whom he was carrying to his Estate at Laval; besides Madam his Mother, a Gentleman of Provence, an Advocate of the Counsel, and Mounsieur de la Garouffiere, all of a kindred, and such as Destiny had conversed with at the Wedding where Madam Angelica was stolen away; add to all these I have just now named an Attendant or Chamber Maid, and you will guests the Coach was well filled, especially considering that Madam Bouvillon, so was the Bridegroom's Mother's name, was one of the most corpulent Women in France, though she were one of the shortest, for I have been seriously told that she carried about her most commonly, were it a dear or cheap year, at least thirty Quintals of flesh, besides the other materials weighty and solid, which go to the making up of a humane body. Having told you this, it will not be difficult to make you believe that she was very succulent or moist, as all such Women are; Supper was served in; Destiny appeared with his handsome Mien which never was changed, nor was then eclipsed by his foul Linen, Leander having newly furnished him with clean. He spoke little as his custom was, but had he spoken as much as the rest, who indeed talked very much, perhaps he would not have said so many frivolous things as they did; lafoy Garouffiere carved him of every thing that was on the Table, Madam Bouvillon did the like to outvie the other, with so little discretion, that all the dishes were emptied in a moment, and Destiny's Plate so full of wings and legs of Pullet's, that I have since often wondered how they could with that haste and carelessness pile up such a vast Pyramid of meat, upon so small a Basis as the belly of a Trecher-plate; lafoy Garouffiere took no notice of it so earnestly was he repeating & discoursing of Poems to Destiny, and setting forth the sharpness of his wit and judgement. Madam Bouvillon having her designs likewise, continued her good offices towards the Comedian, and finding no more Pullet's to carve, was compelled to cut him some pieces of a Gigot of Mutton. He knew not where to place them and so held a piece in either hand, as she had forced it upon him, looking about where he might bestow them; when the Gentleman, who was resolved not to hold his peace so much to the prejudice of his hunger, smillingly, asked Destiny, whether he should eat all that which loaded his Plate? at wh●ch question Destiny cast his eye upon it●▪ and was amazed to see a heap of carved meat almost up to his mouth, which la Garouffiece, and Bouvillon had erected as a Trophy of his merits. He blushed, and could not refrain from laughter, which discountenanced Bouvillon, and made la Garouffiere laugh so hearty, that it made the whole Company do the like four or five times together. The waiters began when their Masters left of, and laughed in their turns, which the young Bride found so pleasant, that breaking out into the like passion just as the Cup was at her mouth, she besprinkled her Mother thers-in-law, and Husband's face with all that was in the Glass, unless it were a little which flew about the Table, and their  that sat near her. The merry game began afresh, and all but Bouvillon laughed, while she grew red with anger, and looked upon the new Bride with a severe countenance, which somewhat abated her jollity, at last their laughing ceased, because one cannot laugh ever, every one wiped their eyes, Bouvillon and her Son dried their dripping faces, and the Bride craved their pardon, having much ado still to keep in her smiles. Destiny placed his Trencher-plate in the midst of the Table, and so every one took their share. Nor could they talk of any other subject during the whole Suppertime, and the Raillery was carried on to the highest pitch, although the seriousness where with Bouvillon armed herself, might justly have been some allay to their Gaiety: As soon as they had taken away the Service, the Ladies retired to their Chambers; the Advocate and the Gentleman called for Cards and went to Piquet, la Garouffiere and Destiny who were none of those that know not what to do unless they played, entertained one another very spiritually, and held the best conversation that ever was perhaps in any Inn belonging to the lower Main. La Garouffiere discoursed purposely, of such things as he thought stood in the dark, or were above a Comedian, whose judgements have most commonly limits more narrow than their memory, and Destiny entertained him like a very intelligent person, and one that was not a Novice in the world. Amongst other things, he did with all the discretion imaginable, observe the distinction betwixt Women that have a great deal of Wit, and do not make a show of it but when a fit occasion requires it, and those that have no more than what they prostitute every minute to make it be thought they have a greater stock. Besides, those that envy some petty Jeasters, Drolling qualities; laugh at Allusions and licentious Equivocations; make dry Clinches of their own, and then applaud and admire them, and, in fine, are the make-Sports of such a Ward or Parish, from those that make up the Noble Society of the bravest Companies, and are of the truly renowned Caballas. He likewise discoursed of Women that knew as well how to write as many men that undertake it, and though they do not many times publish the productions of their wit, that shows only their greater modesty, not their meaner ability. La Garouffiere who was a very honest man, and was well skilled in the breeding of persons of all qualities, did much admire, that a man of the profession Destiny was of, should have such parts, above the rate of most of those that followed such an employment. Whilst he admired him in his thoughts, the Advocate and Gentleman having left off their play, wrangling about a Card that was turned up, they all gaped as if they wanted sleep, and so a Servant came and made ready three beds in the same room, where they supped, Destiny retiring to his own Chamber where Leander was in bed.   

CHAP. IX.  
Another Misfortune befalls Ragotin.  
RAncour and Ragotin lodged together, as for Olive, he wasted part of the night in sowing his  which were ripped in divers places when he grappled with the Choleric Ragotin. Those that were acquainted with this little fellow particularly, have observed, that when ever he scuffled with any one, which was frequently enough, he had always either unripped, or torn part or all his enemies . That was his sure revenge, so that such as were to deal with him at fisticuffs, must have been as watchful to defend their  from his direful Claws, as others are wary to save their faces at Foils. Rancour asked him when he was going to bed whether he felt any hurt, because his countenance looked very ill; Ragotin replied he never found himself better. It was not long ere they fell asleep, and it happened well for Ragotin, that Rancour bore some respect to the good Company that was then at the Inn, and would not disturb their repose: had it not been for them, the small Mounsieur had probably passed, but an unquiet Night. Olive the mean while was hard at work about his , and having finished all that was amiss about them, he stole up Ragotins' , and as artificially as any Tailor could have contrived it, he cut both the Breeches and Doublet a great deal less in the waste, and put them, after they were neatly sowed into the same place again, and having wasted the greatest part of the Night in ripping, cutting and sowing, crept into the same bed with Ragotin and Rancour. They rose early, as people usually do in such Inns, where there is a perpetual noise as soon as day appears. Rancour told Ragotin, again, that he looked, very ill; Olive assured him so to: he began to believe them, and finding his  at the same time too straight for him, by an Inch or two, he apprehended that his body was swollen to that proportion, and was affrighted at the sudden accident. Rancour and Olive continued to exaggerate his unhealthy Mien, and Destiny and Leander whom they had acquainted with the plot, did each of them tell him he was hugely changed. Poor Ragotin stood amazed with tears in his eyes, which made Destiny smile a little, at which he was extreme angry. He went into the Kitchen belonging to the Inn, where every body repeated what the Comedians had before said to him, which seconded likewise by the strangers who having along Journey to go that day, had made themselves ready very early. They invited the Comedians to Breakfast with them, where every man drank poor sick Ragotins' health, who instead of returning their civilities, went snarling away, to the Chirurgeon of the Town, to whom he related his malady. The Chirurgeon discoursed of the cause and the effect of his swelling Disease which he understood as little as the Algebra, and talked to him a quarter of an hour in his terms of Art, which were no more to the purpose of that subject, then if he had talked of Prester-John. Ragotin grew impatient, and swearing admirably for a little man, asked him, whether he had nothing else to say. The Chirurgeon would have continued his prating; and Ragotin would needs beat him, and had done so, if he had not humbled himself before his impatient patient, from whom he drew three Saucers full of blood, and applied Cupping-glasses to his Shoulders at all adventure. The Cure was no sooner done, when Leander came, and told him that if he would promise him not to be angry, he would discover a piece of Roguery that had been practised against him. He promised more than the other desired, and engaged upon his eternal damnation to observe all he had promised. Leander told him, he would witness to what he swore, and so led him home to the Inn, where in the presence of all, both Masters and Servants, he made him swear afresh, and then declared how they had used his . Ragotin did at the first grow red with shame, and was going to break his execrable Oaths, when seven or eight of them did put him in mind of the danger he ran, with so much vehemence, that although he swore hearty, there were none could understand him. He left speaking; but the others ceased not from bawling in his Ears, so loud, and long, that the poor man thought he should have lost his hearing. In fine, he came off better than they expected, and began to sing with all his might, any Song that came first to his memory, which converted their clamorous speaking into a greater shout of laughter, which was answered, not only from the gazing Servants in that place, but thorough all the Rooms of the Inn, to which different occasions had called in a great diversity of Company. Whilst the Echoes of so much laughter does by little and little vanish in the air, the faithful Chronologist ends this present Chapter, with the leave of the Courteous or Discourteous Reader, or what ever he be that shall be so fond as to read this Story.   

CHAP. X.  
How Madam Bouvillon could not resist a Temptation, and got a knock on her forehead.  
THe Coach which had a good days journey to make, was ready very early. The seven Passengers who filled it to purpose, stowed themselves in: they drove away, and within ten paces of the Inn the Axletree broke in the midst. The Coach man cursed his life; they railed at him as if he had been responsable for the lasting of an Axletree. They were forced to come out of the Coach, and return the same way to the Inn. The Inhabitants of the maimed Coach were very much perplexed when they were told, that in all that Country there was no Coach nor Cart-maker nearer than three Leagues off that place at a great Town. They held counsel but could determine nothing knowing the Coach would not be able to fowl again till the next day. Bouvillon who still held a high commanding hand over her Son, because all the wealth of that Family came by her, enjoined him to mount a Horse that carried their Groom, and made his Wife get on another, to give a visit to an old Uncle of hers, who was the Reverend Curate of the same Village, where the Coach mender dwelled. The Lord of that place was of Kin to the Counsellor, and an acquaintance of the Advocates: They took a fancy to go and wait on him, for Companies sake. The Hostess furnished them with Hackneys, which she made them pay a little dear for, and thus Bonvillon only of all that Company remained behind at the Inn, being somewhat tired, or pretending to be so, besides that her round bulk could not with safety have been carried on an Ass, had they found one strong enough to have traveled with such a weighty burden. She sent her Maid to Destiny to invite him to Dinner with her, and while that was making ready, she new dressed her head, frizzled and powdered her Locks, put on a laced Apron & Whisk, with a very rich point under it, which was the Bride's Pinner. She likewise took one of her Daughter's best Petticoats out of the bundle, and arrayed herself; in fine, she transformed herself to a pretty little plump Nymph. Destiny would willingly hav● dined at liberty with his Comerades, but how could he have refused his most humble Servan● Madam Bouvillon, who again sent for him as soo● as ever the Dinner was served up. Destiny wa● surprised to see her so gaily clothed. She wel●comed him with a smiling countenance; took him by the hands to make him wash, and gently gripe● them in such a manner as seemed to signify something. He thought not so much of the Dinner a● of the occasion of the invitation: but Bouvillon reproached him so frequently his not eating, tha● he could not avoid it. He knew not what to say being naturally very silent: but as for Bouvillon she was too ingenuous to want matter for Discourse. When such persons as are very talkative, meet alone with those that speak little, and seldom replies to what they chatter, they do but speak the more; for judging of others by themselves, and finding they do not answer to what they say, as they would do on the like occasion, they believe they have not twattled enough to please their indifferent Auditor, and so they pursue the Discourse and mean to repair the first weakness, which most commonly is less considerable by the addition, yet will they never give over whilst any attention is given. One might avoid such a alarm indeed; but because there are such infatigable Babblers, as will even continue to talk to themselves if left alone, after that spirit has been once raised, or that weight once drawn up in Company. I think the best way to deal with them were, to speak as loud, as fast, and as much as they, if not more. For all the world cannot stop this torrent of noise which a great talker makes when another silently lends him an ear, and does not join words with him. This reflection I can make good by many Experiments, nor do I know whether I myself am not one of those I now . For the imcomparable Bouvillon, she was the greatest Discourser of nothing that ever was: and she would not only talk to herself, but she would answer herself likewise. Destiny's Taciturnity giving her full scope, and having a design to please him with her Verbal entertainment, she took her full swinge. She related to him all the passages and intrigues of the Town of Laval where she dwelled; recounted the scandalous story, and defamed no particular person, or whole Family, from whose dis-repute she did not draw some commendations to herself; protesting, at every defect which she scored on their accounts, that although she knew she was frail herself, yet was she not guilty of such a one, nor such a one. Destiny, was very much mortified at the beginning, and returned not a syllable; but at length, he thought himself obliged to smile now and then, and to tell her sometimes; That's very pleasant; This is very strange, and most commonly he spoke by contraries. They took away the dishes, when Destiny had done eating and all being disserved. Madam Bouvillon made him set down by her at the foot of the bed, and her Maid who had turned out all the rest of the waiters belonging to the Inn, going after them herself; shut the Chamber door as she went forth. Bouvillon, who thought perhaps that Destiny had taken notice of it, said; see this hare-brained maid, how she hath shut us in. I will go and open it if you please, said Destiny, I do not speak of that said Bouvillon stopping him: but you know that two being locked in together, as we may do what we please, so may others believe what they have a mind to of it. It is not of such as you, that people judge rashly, replied Destiny to her. I believe that, said Bouvillon, but you know we cannot be too cautious of such dangerous tongues. They must have some ground though, added Destiny, and as for yourself and I, the inequality betwixt a poor Comedian, and a person of your quality is guard enough. But will you have me open the door than continued he. That is not it, said she, bolting it herself, for perhaps none will take notice whether it be shut or not, but whether they do or not, it is better to make it past opening, then to leave it at random. Having secured it, she approached Destiny, her great visage much inflamed, and her little eyes sparkling notably, which made him bethink himself how he should retreat honourably, or avoid without shame, that battle which he thought she was ready to give him. This Fat sensual Lady pulled off her Neck-handkerchief, and exposed to Destiny's sight, which was not very tempting or pleasing to him; ten pound weight of Breasts at least, that is to say, a third part of her Duggs, the rest being equally stowed under her armpits. Her evil design, making her blush, (for they blush likewise those shameless ones sometimes) her neck was no less Red than her Cheeks, and both together at a convenient distance might have been taken for a Scarlet Riding-hood. Destiny blushed likewise: but his was out of modesty, whereas Bouvillon who had none left, blushed for, you may guests what. She told him she felt something creeping down her back, and shrugging herself in her harness, as when something itches, she entreated Destiny to put down his hand. The poor youth did it trembling, and the mean while Bouvillon feeling his waist betwixt his Doublet and Breeches, asked him, whether he were not ticklish? He must now have fought it out, or surrendered, when Ragotin made a Noise at the door, beating against it with his Hands and Feet, as if he would have broke it down, and calling to Destiny to open quickly. Destiny plucked his hand out from Bouvillons sweaty back, to let in Ragotin, who still made a devilish n●ise; and going to pass by betwixt the Table and Bouvillon without rushing against her, his Foot met with a rub which caused him to stumble, and run his head hard enough against a Bench to amaze him for a time. Bouvillon having in the interim shuffled on her Handkerchief, went to open to the impetuous Ragotin, who at the same time pushing the door with all his strength, made it fly so rufly against the poor Lady's forehead, that it grated off the skin of her nose, and made a bump on her fore head as big as one's First. She cried out she was dead; The little Rustic did not make her the least excuse, but leaping and repeating Madam Angelica is found again, Madam Angelica is here; made Destiny almost angry, who called Bouvillons Maid as loud as he could, to come to her Mistress' aid, and could hardly be heard by reason of the terrible great noise, which little Ragotin made. The Wench brought at length some water and a clean Napkin. Destiny and she repaired the breach or hurt that was done to the Lady by flinging open the door, and whatever impatience he was in to know, whether Destiny spoke true, yet he did not follow his passion; nor would he leave Bouvillon before her face was washed and dried, and her forehead bound up, often calling Ragotin hare-brained, who for all that, would not cease haling him, to go whither he had a mind to Conduct him.   

CHAP. XI.  
The least Divertising of the Volume.  
IT was true, that Madam Angelica was newly arrived, being Conducted by Leander's Servant, which Servant had wit enough not to discover that Leander was his Master, and Madam Angelica pretended some wonder to see him so well clad, and did that out of Discretion, which Rancour and Olive did out of Ignorance. Leander asked Madam Angelica, and his own Servant, whom he dissembled as one of his acquaintance or friends, how he had found her out, when Ragotin came into the Room leading in Destiny as in Triumph, or rather training him after him, because he went not fast enough to his hot apprehension. Destiny and Angelica embraced with great testimonies of Friendship, and with that tenderness, which is resented by those that love, when after a long absence, or where they had lost all hopes of ever seeing one another again, they happen to meet by some unexpected adventure. Leander and she entertained each other but only with their mutual looks, whereby they expressed a great deal, omitting the rest till a more convenient interview. Mean time, Leander's Servant began his Narration, and told his Master, as if he had spoken to a Friend, That after he had left him to follow Angelica's Ravishers, as he had conjured him, he did not lose sight of them till night, and then the next morning at the entrance into a Wood, he was amazed to find Angelica alone on foot, and all in tears; and added, that having told her, he was Leander's Friend, and had pursued her on his behalf, she was very joyful, and beseeched him to Conduct her to Manse, or to the place where Leander was, if he knew where to find him. It belongs to you Madam, said he, to relate how those that had forced you away, then left you: for I durst not inquire of you, finding you so deeply afflicted, all the time I waited on you, that I feared your sighs and moans would have broke your heart. The least concerned, were greatly impatient to learn from her own mouth, an adventure which appeared so strange to them. For what could any one conjecture of a young Woman hurried away so violently, and then forsaken or abandoned so quietly, without being compelled thereto? Madam Angelica entreated that she might go to bed; but the Inn being taken up already, the good Curate got her a Chamber at his Sisters who dwelled the next door, and was then the Widow of one of the richest Farmers in that Country. Angelica, did not so much want sleep, as rest; wherefore Destiny and Leander went to visit her as soon as they were informed she was in her bed: Although she were glad that Destiny was made a confident of her Amour, yet could she not behold him without a blush. Destiny pitied her confusion, and to divert her from shaping any excuses, courted her to give them an account of what the fellow that came with her had no knowledge of, which she did in this manner. You may guests what a surprise my Mother and myself was in, when walking in the Park belonging to that House we were at, we saw a little backdoor open towards the Fields, and four or five men running towards us, who seized upon me, without scarce looking on my Mother, and dragged me half dead through fear to the place where their Horses stood ready. My Mother whom you know to be one of the most resolute Women in the world, furiously assaulted the first she could light upon, and used him so coarsely, that not being able to get himself free, he was forced to call his Companions for assistance. He that relieved him, and was so barbarous as to beat my Mother, as I heard him brag upon the way, was the Author of the enterprise. He came not near me, so long as the night lasted, during which time, we marched like those that fly and are pursued. Had we passed through any places inhabited, my cries were loud enough to have caused them to be stopped; but they avoided all such Roads as much as they possibly could, only one little Hamlet they were constrained to ride by, where I awaked all the Inhabitants with my noise. The day appeared, my Ravisher came near me, and had no sooner looked upon my face, but giving a great Whoop, he assembled his Companions, and held a counsel with them, which lasted in my opinion about half an hour. My Ravisher appeared as much enraged, as I was afflicted; He swore so desperately as startled them all, and quarrelled with most of them. In fine, their tumultuous counsel ended, and I know not what they had resolved. They began their march again, and I began to be treated with less respect than I had been. They were very angry with me, every time I bemoaned my condition, and made many imprecations as if I had done them great wrong. They had torn me away as you know with the  I acted in, and to conceal it, had put one of their coats over it. They met a man upon the way, of whom they inquired somewhat. I was much amazed to find it was Leander, and I believe he admired no less to see me, whom he knew, as soon as I made him see my , which were not unknown to him, and which I discovered at the same instant that he was gazing on my face. He may have told you how he behaved himself. For my part seeing so many drawn Swords, I fainted in his arms that held me on Horseback, and when I had recovered my spirits again, I found we pursued our way, but could not find Leander in the Company. My shrieks re-doubled, and my Ravishers, whereof one was wounded, took their way through the Fields, and made a halt yesterday in a Village, where they quartered as Soldiers. This morning at the entrance of a wood, they met a man that was Conducting a Lady. They unmasked her, knew her, and expressing the like joy of such as have found what they sought for, hurried her away, after they had misused him that Conducted her. This Lady cried out as much as I had done before, and my thought her Voice was no stranger to my ear. We had gotten above fifty paces within the Wood, when he whom as I told you, seemed to command the rest, approaching near the fellow that carried me, and speaking of me, said, Set that bawling thing down. He was obeyed; they left me, hastened out of my view, and I was left alone, and a foot. The fright I was in, knowing myself to be alone was enough to have killed me, if he that brought me back hither, and had followed us afar off as he informed you, had not come to me. The rest you know. But, continued she, addressing her speech to Destiny, I think I ought to tell you, that the Woman, they thus preferred before me, resembles your Sister, my Companion; hath the same Voice, yet I know not what to think; for the man that was with her, is very like the Servant you took after Leander quitted you, nor can I put it out of my thoughts, but it was he. What's this you tell me, said Destiny, very much troubled? This is what I conjecture, replied Angelica: One ●ay be deceived in the resemblance of people, ●aid she but I am much afraid I am not mistaken at ●his time. I am possessed with the same fear likewise, said Destiny, with a changed countenance, ●nd I believe I have an enemy in this Province from whom I may fear the worst: But who could have brought my Sister to that Wood, whom Ra●●tin left yesterday at Manse? I must go and entreat some of our Company to follow them with all speed, whilst I remain here, to determine of things according as I shall receive intelligence from them; as he ended these words, he heard some body call him in the street, he looked forth at the Window, and beheld Mounsieur Garrouffiere, who was returned from making his Visit, and assured him he had an Affair of importance to communicate to him. He went to him, and left Leander and Angelica together, who had thus the liberty of entertaining each other, after a troublesome absence, discovering what fears and troubles their hearts resented all that while. I doubt not, but it would have been very pleasant to have overheard them, but it was the better for them that their interview was so secret. In the interim, Destiny demanded of Garouffiere what the business was? Do you know a Gentleman named Verville, and is he a Friend of yours, said Garouffiere? He is a person to whom I am the most obliged, and honour the most in the world, and I believe he does not hate me, said Destiny. I think so indeed, replied Garouffiere: I saw him to day at the Gentlemen whom I went to visit; at Dinner they talk of you, and after you had once been mentioned Verville could speak of nothing else, he asked me hundred questions concerning you, which I could not resolve, and had I not promised him, to persuade you to go to him, which he doubts not bu● you will perform at his entreaty, he would have come hither, though he have much business where he is. Destiny returned him civil thanks for the good News he had brought him, and having informed himself of the place where he should find him, resolved to go, hoping to hear somewhat from him concerning his enemy Saldaigne, whom he confidently guessed to be the Author of stealing away Angelica, and the present Possessor, and Usurper of his dear Star, if it were certainly she whom Angelica imagined she saw ceased upon when they quitted her. He entreated his Company to return to Manse, and comfort Cave with the good News of her Daughter, and engaged them to send him an express, or to come one of themselves, to let him know, what had befallen Madam Star. He got Garouffiere to instruct him in the way, and the name of the Town he was to meet Verville in. He made the Curate promise his Sister should take care of Angelica, till they fetched her from Manse; took Leander's Horse, and arrived that Evening at the place he intended. He thought it inconvenient to go to Verville himself, for fear least Saldaigne whom he judged to be in that Country should be with him at that time. He alighted therefore at a pitiful Inn, from whence he dispatched a little youth to tell Verville that the Gentleman he desired to see, waited there for him. Verville came, threw his arms about his ●eck, and embraced him a long while, before he ●ad the power to express the tenderness he cherished for him. Let us leave them thus hugging one another, like two friends that dearly love, and meet thus fortunately, after they had lost all hopes of ever being so happy, and pass on to the next Chapter.   

CHAP. XII.  
Which will perhaps be as little pleasing as the last.  
VErville and Destiny gave each other an exact account of all they were ignorant of in each others little concerns. Verville related wonders to him of the brutishness of his Brother Saint Far, and the virtue of his Wife in suffering them. He exaggerated the felicity he enjoyed in possessing his own, and told him News of the Baron of Arques, and of Mounsieur St. Sauveur. Destiny than gave him the little story of his own Adventures not concealing any thing; and Verville avouched to him, that Saldaigne was still in the Country, a very dishonest man still, and very dangerous, and promised him, if Madam Star were in his hands, to do all he could possibly to discover it, and serve Destiny, both in person, and by the power, of h●● friends, in whatever should be necessary to redeem her. He hath no other retreat, said Verville, but my Father's House and another Gentleman's just like himself, who is not absolute Maste● of a house being the youngest Son of a younger Brother. He cannot but return to see us, if h● remains in the Country: my Father and my se● suffering him to do so because of his alliance: S● Far loves him not now, whatever resemblance there is betwixt them. I am therefore of opinion that it were best for you to go with me to morrow; I know where to place you, nor shall you be seen by any but whom you are willing to converse with; and in the mean while Saldagne shal● be watched, and so narrowly observed, that he shall do nothing which shall not come to our knowledge. Destiny found a great deal of reason in the counsel his friend gave him, and determined to follow it. Verville returned to supper to the Lord of the Town an ancient Gentleman, of Kin● to him, whose Heir he hoped to be, and Destiny eat what he could get in his Inn, and went early to bed, that he might not make Verville wait for him, who designed to be going very early to his Fathers. They set forth at the hour appointed, and during three Leagues riding, told each other many particulars they had not time to Discourse of before. Verville placed Destiny at a Servants, who was married in the Town, and had a little House very convenient, within five hundred paces of the Castle belonging to the Baron of Arques. He gave order that he should be kept privately, and promised him to come suddenly again to see him. Verville had not left him above two hours, before he returned, and said at his coming that he had a great many things to tell him. Destiny grew pale, and was afflicted at his first words, and the other as readily gave him hopes of a remedy for the trouble he was to relate, alighted from my horse, said he, I beheld Saldaigne, carried betwixt four, into a lower Chamber. His horse threw him and fell on him, about a League from hence, and hath much bruised him, he told me he had something to say to me, and entreated me to follow him into the Chamber as soon as a Chirurgeon who was there, had seen his leg which is much strained with his fall. When we were alone: I must ever, said he, reveal all my faults to you, although you are the least indulgent of my censurers, your Wisdom ever chiding my Folly. After this he confessed to me, that he had stolen away a Comedian, of whom he had a long time been enamoured, and said he would tell me some particulars of this enterprise which would raise my wonder. He told me that Gentleman, whom I informed you to be his friend, had not been able to find any place of retreat for him in the whole Province, and was obliged to leave him, and carry off those men he had furnished him withal to execute his design, because one of his Brothers, who used to make a conveyance of prohibited Salt, was waylaid by the Searchers, and so stood in want of some assistance to secure him. So that, said he, not daring to appear in the least Village, where my enterprise had made a loud report, I am crept hither with my prey. I have entreated my Siste● your Wife to let her be concealed in your apartment, our of the sight of the Baron of Arques whose severity I dread, and I conjure you, since I cannot keep her here, and have only two Servants the veriest Sots in the world, to lend me yours to Conduct her, together with my own, to the Lands I have in Britain, whether I will go myself, as soon as I can ride on Horseback. He asked me whether I could not spare him some others besides my own Servant, for as rash as he is, he apprehends it very difficult to carry a Woman far against her will: For my part, I made him believe the undertaking was very easy: which he soon credited, as Fools do ever hope things will succeed according to their wishes. His Servants do not know you, and mine is very crafty, and very faithful to me. I will make him tell Saldaigne that he can get a very stout friend of his, which shall be yourself; your Mistress shall have notice of it, and this night wherein they intent to make a long journey, she shall feign herself sick at the first place they come to. My man, shall endeavour to Fuddle the other two, which is very easy, and this shall make it very opportune for you to convey away the Damosel, and making the two Drunkards believe that you are already gone after her, he shall lead them a quite contrary Road, and so be sure not to interrupt you. Destiny found a great deal of probability in what Verville proposed, whose trusty Servant came at the same time into the Chamber, they consulted together what was to be done. Verville kept himself all the rest of that day with Destiny in obscurity; having much ado to part with him after so ●ong an absence, which perhaps might be followed with a more tedious one. Indeed Destiny hoped to see Verville at Bourbon, whither he was to go, and where Destiny promised to engage their Company to follow him. The Night came on; Destiny arrived at the places assigned with Vervilles man, Saldaignes two Servants failed not, and Verville did himself put Madam Star into their hands. Imagine the joy of two young Lovers, who had as much affection as hearts can hold, and the constraint they were in, being hindered from expressing their minds. Within half a League of that place, Star gins to complain; they bid her take courage till they came to a Town two Leagues distant, where they put her in hopes she should bait. She feigns that her malady increaseth still, Vervilles Servant and Destiny seemed to be much concerned, thereby to prepare Saldaignes' Servants not to think it strange that they should make a stop so near the place they came from. In fine, they came to the Town, and demanded lodging at the Inn, which they happily found to be full of Lodgers and Drinkers. Madam Star acted the sick Woman's part better by Candle light than she had done in the dark: She lay down in her , and desired they would let her rest only one hour, and made them believe that after she thought she might be able to ride again. Saldaignes' men, being Drunkards, did let Vervilles do what he pleased, he being indeed commanded to take the sole charge upon him, they Club immediately with four or five Country fellows, as great Bubbers as themselves; These altogether began to drink roundly, and wash down all sorrow, and the cares of th● world. Vervilles man, did now and then put in fo● a health with them to keep them in play, and under the pretence of going up to see the sick Lady that he might hasten her away, he conveyed he and Destiny forth and mounted them, whom h● directed what way he must ride. He returned t● his good fellows, told them the Gentlewoman was asleep, and said there was the greater likelihood she would be soon enabled to prosecute th● journey. He told them likewise that Destiny ha● thrown himself upon a bed; and then began t● drink merrily, and talk of other things, plying th● two Servants very stiffly, who were already pretty hot headed. They drank to excess, wer● fuddled, and could not so much as rise from th● Table; Then were they removed into a Barn fo● fear they should spoil any bed, might have been given them. Vervilles man counterseited th● Drunkard, and having slept till break of day, hastily waked the two others, telling them with a dejected countenance, that the Damosel had mad● her escape; that he had dispatched his friend after her, and that it was time for them to moun● their Horses and ride several ways that she might not escape them. He was above an hour a● making them understand what he said, for I believe their brains were dosed for a week after and as the whole house had tippled extraordinarily that night, yea even the very Hostess and Maids they did not so much as trouble themselves to make any inquiry what was become either of Destiny or the Gentlewoman, whom they no more ●emembred then if they had never seen them. Whilst these people were digesting or voiding their Wine, Vervilles Servant exclaiming against fortune, and pressing his two Companions to ha●en away, which those yet half-sober fellows could ●ot do, Destiny galloped on with his dear Madam ●ar, ravished with joy that he had found her, and ●ot doubting but Vervilles trusty Trojan had sent ●he two others the quite contrary Road. The Moon shone then very bright, and they were in a ●road way easy enough to be found, which led ●hem to a Village, whether we intent to bring ●hem in the next Chapter.   

CHAP. XIII.  
An unhandsome Action of Mounsieur de la Rapiniere.  
DEstiny was impatient to know of his dear Star, by what adventure she had been conveyed to the Wood, where Saldaigne surprised ●er: but he was as fearful likewise of being pur●ed. He therefore minded nothing but to spur ●●s Horse, which was none of the best, and beat ●●ers with his switch, and cherish him with his ●●ice, who went but slow, though he were none of the worst tall Hackneys In fine, the pair 〈◊〉 Lovers assumed more confidence, and having ●●vished some tender expressions (for there was occasion enough to use them, after those accident had happened, nor shall I doubt but they did so though I know nothing particularly thereof.) A●ter, then, that they had moved each others hea● with sweet words, Star acquainted Destiny with 〈◊〉 the good offices she had done to Cave, but I fea● said she, that her troubles will bring her into sibness▪ for I never saw her fellow; For my par● my dear Brother, you may well conceive, tha● had as much need of consolation as she, after yo● Servingman, having brought me a Horse as fro● you, informed me that you had found Angelic● ravishers, and that you were very much wounde● I wounded, replied Destiny, interruping her, neither was so, nor in any danger of being s● nor did I send you my Horse: There must some Mystery in this which I understand not; An● in truth, I wondered all this while, what made y●● so often inquire how I did, and whether it we not troublesome to me to ride so fast. You bo●● comfort, and afflict me in one breath, said Star your imaginary wounds did much perplex m●● but what you now affirm makes me suspect yo● man was corrupted by your enemies to betray 〈◊〉 in some design against you. He hath rather be seduced by some that pretends to be too much o●● friend, said Destiny, I have no enemy but S●●daigne; and it could not be him, that hath ma●● my treacherous man act thus, since he beat hi● when they met with you; and how do you kno● ●hat, said Star; for I do not remember that I have discovered any thing of it to you? you shall be ●nformed sully, as soon as I am acquainted with ●he manner of your being drawn out of Manse, replied he. I cannot give you any better account ●hen what I have already hinted at, answered Star, The day after Cave and myself arrived at Manse, your man brought me a Horse as from you, and ●eeming to be very much troubled told me, that you had been wounded by those that stole away Angelica, and very much requested that I would ●ome to you; I took Horse the same hour, although it were very late; I lodged about six Leagues from Ma●se in a place, the name whereof 〈◊〉 have forgotten, and the next day at the entrance into a Wood I was stopped by some unknown persons; I saw your man ill used, and was grieved for it, I saw a Woman thrown down from a Horse likewise in a very uncivil manner, and I knew it to be my associate; but the sad condition I then was in myself, and troubles I conceived for you, made me soon lose all thoughts of her: They set me up in her place and traveled along till night: after we had road a great way, and most commonly through unfrequented Lanes, we arrived very late in the Night at a mock Gentlemans who would not receive us; There it was that I discovered Saldaigne, and the certainty that it was he completed my despair. We marched again a long time and in fine, they made me go secretly into the house whence you most happily redeem●ed me. Star ended the Narration of her adventures just as the day began to appear; they then found themselves in a great Road that went directly to Manse, and hastened their Horses fastens than they had done, to get into a Town which la● before them: Destiny infinitely desired to me●● with his man, to discover from what other enemy besides Saldaigne, they were to guard themselves in that Country: but there was no grea● likelihood, that after such an ugly act as he ha● committed he would ever come in his sight again He told his dear Star all what he knew concerning Angelica; when a man strethed out at his full length close by a hedge, so affrighted their horses, tha● Destinys had almost leapt away from under him and Madam Stars threw her upon the ground Destiny being troubled at her fall, made all the hast he could to raise her up again, while his hors● went back, snorting blowing and stumbling, a● frighted jades use to do. The Damosel was no● hurt; the horses forgot the fright, and Destiny went up to see whether the man were living o●dend: One may say, he was both, being so lamentably drunk, that although he snored lou●● enough, which was a certain to en of life in him yet Destiny could hardly make him awake. In the end, with much pulling and tumbling, he opened his eyes, and discovered himself to be that very Servant of his he so much wished to find. The Rogue as drunk as he was, soon knew it was his Master, and was so perplexed when he beheld him, that Destiny doubted now no longer of the Treason he had before suspected him guilty of. He demanded of him, wherefore he had told Madam Star that he was wounded, wherefore he carried her out of Manse? whither he would have led her; and who furnished him with a horse: but he could get no answer from him, whether he were too drunk, or counterfeited it out of craft. Destiny grew angry, gave him some blows with his Sword, and having tied his hands with his horse Reins, made a shift with some other trappings he had about him, to lead him along his Prisoner. He cut a good Cudgel from a Tree to make use of upon occasion, if his man should refuse to troth after him handsomely; He set his Damosel up on Horseback again, and mounted his own likewise, continuing on his way, with his Prisoner running by his side like a Greyhound. The Town they saw before them, was the very same he parted from two days before, where he left Mounsieur la Garouffiere, and his Company, who were there still, because Madam Bouvillon had been sick of a furious Cholora Morbuus. When Destiny arrived there, he found neither Rancour, Olive, nor Ragotin, who were gone back to Manse; as for Leander, he left not his dear Angelica. I shall not tell you in what manner she received Madam Star, one may easily imagine the Caresses betwixt two Virgins that were entire friends, and had run through so many dangers since they parted. Destiny informed lafoy Garouffiere of the success of his journey, and having entertained him a while private, they caused Destinys man to be brought into a room in the Inn. There he was examined anew, and because he would still play the dumb delinquent, they called for a cord to tie his thumbs. At the sight of that engine he fell upon his knees; wept very sorely, begged pardon of his Master, and confessed tha● lafoy Rapiniere had put him upon all he had done, having promised him in recompense to take him into his Service. They understood by him also that Rapiniere was at a house within two League of that place, which he had gotten from a poo● ancient Widow. Destiny spoke again in private with Garouffiere, who at the same time sent a Lackey to tell lafoy Rapin●ere, that he must needs com● to him, about a business of consequence. This Counsellor of Renes, had a great deal of powe● over that Provost of Manse. He had reprieved him from being broken on the Wheel in Britain and had still protected him in all his criminal dangers; Not but that he knew him, to be a grea● Villain; but lafoy Rapinieres wife was somewhat allied to him: The foot man that was sent, found him just ready to mount on horseback to go to Manse; as soon as ever he heard, that la Garouffier● wanted his Company, he set forward to obey him. Mean time la Garouffiere who pretended to a great deal of Wit, had called for a bag of Papers whence he drew forth Poems of all sorts; good and bad. He read them to Destiny, and afterwards took out this little story which he had translated out o● Spanish, as you may read it in the following Chapter.   

CHAP. XIV.  
The Judge of his own Cause.  
IN Africa, amongst certain little Rocks, bordering the Sea, which are not distant from the great City of Fez above an hours riding. Prince Mulei Son of the King of Morocco was left alone, in the night time, having lost his way in hunting. The sky was not spotted with the least cloud; the Sea smooth, which the Moon and Stars made it bright: in fine, it was one of those fair nights usual in those hotter Climates which are far more pleasant than the fairest days in our colder Countries. The Marocan Prince galloping along the Strand, divertised himself in beholding the reflection of the Moon and lesser lamps of Heaven on the surface of the Waves, as in a Looking-glass, when a mournful outcry invaded his ears, and inspired him with the curiosity of going to the place whence he guessed it to proceed. He spurred his Horse, which shall be, if you please a Barb, and found between some of those Rocks, a Woman, who defended herself all she was able, against a man that struggled to tie her hands, whilst another woman was endeavouring to stop her mouth with a linen cloth. The young Prince's arrival hindered those who offered this violence from prosecuting it, and afforded some respect to the party they handled so roughly. Mulei asked her what might be the cause of her crying out, and the others what it was they were doing to her? But instead of a fair answer, the man goes boldly up to him with his drawn Scimitar, and made such a blow at him, as might have dangerously wounded him, had he not avoided it by the nimbleness of his horse. Rascal, says Mulei to him, darest thou make an assault upon the Prince of Fez? I knew thee very well to be such, replied the Moor, but it is because thou art my Prince, and hast the power to punish me, that I must either take away thy life, or pay down my own.  
Having told him this, he flew upon Mulei, with so much fury, that the Prince, though exceeding valiant, was reduced to put himself into a posture, not so much of assaulting, as defending his own person against so dangerous and bold an Enemy. The two Women in the mean time were hotly engaged, and she who a moment before gave herself up for lost, kept the other from running away, as if it were above all doubt that her defender must be Victorious. Dispair heightens courage, nay sometimes enables those that have the least portion of it, although the Prince's Valour were incomparably greater than his Adversaries, and was seconded by an address and vigour more than common, the punishment which the Moors crime made him Judge he deserved, made him hazard all, and lent him so much fury and strength, that the victory hung a long while doubtfully betwixt the Prince and him: but Heaven which commonly protects those it raises above others, most happily guided the Prince's followers thither, within hearing of the noise the Combatants made, and the women's cries. They hasted to them, and came in just when their Master having the advantage of his fierce opponant had tumbled him on the ground, where he would not kill him, but reserve him to an exemplary punishment. He forbade his people to do any other to him, save only to bind him to a Horse's tail in such manner, that he could neither mischief himself, nor any that approached him. Two Gentlemen carried the Women behind them, and in this Equipage Mulei and his retinue arrived at Fez just at the break of day. This young Prince commanded as absolutely in Fez, as if he had been King already. He ordered the Moor to be brought before him, who was called Amet, and the Son of one of the wealthiest inhabitants of Fez. The two Women were known by none, because the Moors, being the most jealous of all people, take a strict care to conceal their Wives and Slaves from the world's eye. The woman whom the Prince had rescued, surprised both him and the whole Court with her transcendent beauty, Superior to all that had been seen in afric, and her majestic air, not to be hid from their prying eyes by her mean slavish habit. The other woman was clad, as the rest of that Country are, whose quality allows them a distinction above the Rabble, and might have passed for handsome, though not equal to the first; but could she have stood in competition with the others beauty, yet a paleness, which her fear had contracted, invaded and allayed the lustre of it as much, as the others was heightened with a becoming blush that overspread her modest cheeks. The Moor appeared before Mulei with the dejected countenance of a guilty wretch, and fastened his looks still on the ground. Mulei commanded him to declare his crime himself, unless he would die in torment. I know what is prepared for me, and what I have deserved, replied he very boldly, and were it any advantage not to discover it, there is no torture should force it from me: But I cannot avoid my death, since I would have given it thee, and I confess the rage I feel for having miss my purpose of destroying thee, torments me more than all the exquisite pains the Executioners can either invent or inflict upon me. These Spanish women, pursued he, were my Slaves; the one of them made the best of her Fortune by a compliance to marry my Brother Zaides; the other would never alter her Religion, nor show the least good nature in any return of kindness for the love I cherished for her; He would discover no more how sharply soever they threatened him. Mulei, commanded him to be cast into a Dungeon loaden with chains. Zaides' Renegado Wife was thrust into another Prison, and the beautiful slave was conducted to a Moors house named Zulema, a person of Quality, originally a Spaniard, who had quitted that Country, because he could not be persuaded to become a Christian. He was descended of the Illustrious Family of Zegris, otherwhile so famous in Granado, whose Wife Zoraida of the same house, held the repute to be one of the fairest women in Fez, and of a judgement as transcendent as her beauty. She was at the first sight of her even charmed with the beauty of the Christian slave, and after some hours conversation no less taken with her wit. Had this rare Christian been capable of any consolation, she had met it in the caresses she received from Zoraida; but as if she shunned whatever might assuage her sorrow, she was never pleased but when alone, that she might swell her griefs; and when she was with Zoraida, it was not without much violence that she withheld her sighs and tears so long Prince Mulei had an extreme desire to be acquainted with her story. This he had told Zulema, and as he concealed nothing from him, he had also confessed that he found himself inclined to love her, and would have owned it to her, had not the great affliction which yet was legible in her countenance, made him suspect he might have some such unknown rival in Spain, who though absent, might yet hinder him from obtaining the happiness he desired of her, even in a place where he was absolute Master. Zulema therefore gave his Wife order to inquire into the particulars of the Christians life, and by what accident she was become a slave to Amet. Zoraida had as great a curiosity to know it as the Prince, and found no great difficulty in disposing the Spanish slave to satisfy her, who believed she could not reasonably deny any thing to her, who paid her so many marks and testimonies of tenderness and amity. She assured Zoraida, she would answer her curiosity when she pleased; though having nothing but Misfortunes to relate, she feared the story would appear too melancholy for her entertainment. You will find it otherwise, replies Zoraida, by the attention I shall give to it, and the interest I shall have in it, will soon create a belief that you could never trust those secrets with any one that hath a truer affection for you. She gently embraced her, after this civil expression, conjuring her not to delay any longer what she so much desired to be satisfied in. They were alone, and the fair slave having wiped off those tears which the remembrance of her unhappiness had called into her eyes, she began the recital as follows.  
My name is Sophia, I am a Spaniard, born at Valentia, and brought up with all the care, which persons of Quality and Wealth, as were my Father and Mother, are wont to have for a Daughter who was the first fruits of their happy Marriage, and whose early youth appeared worthy of their choicest affection. I had a Brother younger than myself by a year, as lovely as was possible; he loved me as tenderly as I loved him, which mutual Friendship increased to that degree, that when ever we were asunder, so great a sadness dwelled upon our countenances, that the most charming Divertisements which are wont to delight persons of our age could not disperse it. They would not therefore part us; we learned together all those things, which are usually taught children, of good Families, of either Sex, and so it happened to all the world's astonishment, that I was no less dextrous than he in all the violent exercises of a Cavalier, and he no less accomplished in whatsoever is requisite for Ladies of Quality to be skilled in. This extraordinary way of Education begot an infinite desire, in a Gentleman acquainted with my Father, to have his children bred with us. He propounded it to my Parents, who gave consent, and the nearness of our dwelling facilitated the designs on either hand: This Gentleman equalled my Father in Wealth, and was not inferior to him in Nobility. He likewise had but one Son and a Daughter, much of the like Age with my Brother and myself, insomuch that it was not doubted by all the City, but these two Families would be one day united together by a double Marriage. Don Carlos and Lucia, (these were the names of the Brother and Sister) were equally amiable; my Brother loved Lucia, and was reciprocally beloloved again: Don Carlos loved me, and I him likewise. Our Parents were acquainted with it, and were so far from prohibiting it, that had not our greener Age hindered, they would not have deferred our Marriage then; But the happy progress of our innocent affections was disturbed by the immature death of my noble Brother, a violent Fever cut him off in eight day's time, and this was the first of my Misfortunes. Lucia was so afflicted, that no persuasions could keep her from devoting herself a Nun. I was sick unto death, and Don Carlos so overcome with sadness, his Father had reason to fear he might shortly be left without issue, so sensibly the loss of my dear Brother whom he doted on, the danger I was in, and the resolution his Sister had taken wrought their dire effects upon him. In fine, reason cured us, whe● time had moderated our griefs. Don Carlos' Father died shortly after, leaving his Son vastly ric● and free from Debts. His wealth furnished hi● wherewith to satisfy his haughty nature; Th● Gallantries he invented to please me, flattere● my vanity; made his love more public, and increased mine. Don Carlos was often at the Fee● of my Parents, to conjure them to defer out happiness no longer, but complete it by giving him their Daughter. He continued in the mean whil● his Expenses and Gallantries: My Father doubted his Estate would in the end diminish, and that was it made him resolve to marry me with him● He therefore made Don Carlos hope he should b● shortly his Son-in-law; and Don Carlos testified so extraordinary a joy, that it was alone sufficient to have made me confidently believe he valued m● above his own life, though I had been less persuaded of it, than indeed I was. He appointed a Ball for me, and invited all the Town to it. But both for his unhappiness and my own, there chanced to come a Neapolitan Count, brought thither about some affairs of importance from Spain. He found me fair enough to be enamoured with me● and to ask me in Marriage of my Father, after a● enquiry of what rank he held in the Kingdom of Valencia. My Father dazzled with the wealth and quality of this stranger, agreed to his demands, and that very day told Don Carlos he must pretend no more to his Daughter; forbade me to receive any Visits from him, and at the same moment enjoined me to think on the Italian Count, as a person who should be Wedded to me at his return from a journey he was to make to Madrid. I dissembled my trouble before my Father; but when 〈◊〉 was alone, Don Carlos presented himself to my thoughts as the most amiable man in the world. 〈◊〉 made reflections on all that was defective in the Italian Count; then conceived a mortal aversion ●gainst him, and soon found I loved Don Carlos more than I ever thought I could have done, and that it was impossible to live without the enjoyment of him, or be happy in owning his rival. I ●ad recourse to my tears; but that was a feeble remedy, for such a misfortune. Don Carlos at ●hat instant entered my Chamber, without craving ●ny permission as he was wont to do: He found me dissolving into a flood of tears, and could not ●●op his own, though he endeavoured to conceal what was within his heart, till he had made a full discovery of the true Sentiments of mine. He ●hrew himself at my feet, and taking me gently by ●he hands, which he bedewed with his tears: Sophia! said he, must I lose you? and shall a stranger that does scarcely know you, be happier th●n 〈◊〉, because he had more wealth; He must enjoy ●ou, Sophia; and you give your conser●t; you whom I have so passionately loved and who were pleased to make me believe you loved me too, and were moreover, promised to me by a Father; but ●●as! an unjust; an interressed Father; and one ●hat hath started from his fair word! Were you, ●●id he, a Treasure that could be set at any rate, ●othing but my Fidelity could purchase you, and ●hat alone would yet give me a Title to you, would you remember how you stand engaged to me But, cries he, can you believe that he who had th● courage to aspire to you, hath not enough left t● revenge himself on him you now prefer, or wi● it be thought strange that a wretch, who now 〈◊〉 rifled of all, should undertake what ever his d●spair can prompt him to? ah! if you are conten● that I alone should perish, let him live, this happ● rival, since you vouchsafe to protect him, and h● hath found the art to please you; but Don Carlos who is become so hateful to you, and whom yo● have resigned up to this misfortune, will die 〈◊〉 death cruel enough to glut that hate your brea● conceives against him.  
Don Carlos, replied I, do you take part too wit● an unjust Father, and that man I shall never love to heighten my begun persecution; and can yo● fasten that as a particular crime on me, which is 〈◊〉 common misfortune to us both? Bemoan, rathe● then accuse me, and study a ready way how t● preserve me for yourself, instead of loading m● with these reproaches: I could perhaps allege them justlier against you, and bring you to confess that you did never love me sufficiently, sin● you have never known me so. But we have n● so much time now to throw away in fruitless contests. I dare follow you, wherever you shall desire to lead me, I give you free leave to undertake any thing, and here engage to second you in al● that I may never be parted from you. Don Carl●● was so revived at these words, that his joy transported him as much as his grief had done. H● implored my pardon for his having accused me 〈◊〉 that injustice he thought they offered him, and showing me evidently that unless I suffered myself to be conveyed thence, it would be impossible not to obey my Father; I consented to all he propounded, and promised him, that the night of the day following, I would make myself ready to follow him wherever he thought good to hurry me. Nothing is difficult to Lovers, Don Carlos in one day put all things in a handsome readiness for his designs; made a good provision of money, and hired a small Bark of Barcellone, which was to set sail as what hour soever we would summon it. In the interim, I had packed up all my Jewels, and all the money I could heap together; and for so young a person I had so well contrived and dissembled this design, that no body doubted of it in the least. I was not therefore observed by any one, and could at night slip out at the back door of a Garden, where I found Claudio a Page, who was very well esteemed by Carlos, because his skill in singing equalled his Voice, which was exquisite, and in all whose actions there appeared more ingenuity and polite handsomeness then are to be met with, either in one of his Age, or the condition he was in. He informed me his Master had sent him before to conduct me to a Bark that waited for him, and that he could not personally come to fetch me, for some reasons he would give me an account of. A slave belonging to Don Carlos, not unknown to me, came also along with ●s, we stole out of the City without any let, they having wisely ordered it so, and had not gone far before we espied a Vessel in the Road, and a shallop that attended us at the shore. They told me my dear Don Carlos would come immediately, and that it were best for me, in the mean time to get aboard the Vessel. The slave carried me into the shallop, and many men who flocked about us, and whom I took Sailors, caused Claudio also to come in after me, who seemed to me to oppose it, an● make some kind of struggling not to come. Thi● increased the little fears the absence of my Don Carlos had already awakened in me. I asked the slave for him, who briskly answered me, there wa● now no Don Carlos to be expected by me.  
In the mean time I heard Claudio cry out aloud and weeping call the slave Treacherous Amet! I● this the promise you made, to remove my Rival and to leave me with my Love? Imprudent Claudio! replied the slave, is any man obliged t● keep his word with a Traitor, and had I reason t● believe that one that hath betrayed his own master would be so true to me, as not to give intelligenc● to those that guard the Coasts to follow me, an● rescue my Sophia from me. whom I prise abov● my life? These words directed to a Woman whom I mistook for a man, and which I could no● well comprehend, begot so terrible a troubl● and amazement, that I sunk down as one dead betwixt the Moors arms, who had not let me go. continued a long time in this condition, and whe● I was recovered, I found myself in the Cabin o● the ship, which had now sailed a good way fro● the Port: Imagine what my despair must need be, finding myself alone without Don Carlos, a● midst the enemies of my Faith, for I now plainly discovered I was under the power of the Moors; that the slave Amet had absolute Authority over them, and his Brother Zaida was Master of the Vessel. This insolent Villain no sooner found me in a condition to hear him, but he discovered in few words, how he had loved me a long while, and this his passion had compelled him to steal me away, and carry me to Fez, where it depended on me to make my life as happy as it could have been in Spain, since he would endeavour by his kindness to remove every thing that might occasion the least regret for the absence of Don Carlos. I flew at him, notwithstanding the weakness my late swooning had left upon me, and with a more vigorous skill than he expected, acquired by my Education, as I before related, I snatched his Cymetar forth of its sheath, and was going to punish his perfidiousness, had not his Brother Zaida seized my arm just time enough to save his life. They easily disarmed me, for having miss my revenge, I would not vainly resist or Cope with such a multitude of opposers, as flocked about me. Amet, who was much startled at this my resolution, turned out all those that had thrust themselves into the Cabin, and left me, in such a condition of despair, as you may sooner conjecture, than I can express, when I reflected on the stupendious and sudden change of my sad Fortune.  
I passed the whole night in bemoaning myself, nor did the following day, produce any thing that could diminish my sorrow; Time, which does often allay the most tempestuous grief, wrought no cure upon mine, for the second day of our Navigation, left me as full of affliction as I was on the fatal night whereon I lost, together with my liberty the hopes of ever seeing my Don Carlos, or eve● enjoying the least comfort in all my life again Amet had found me so terrible when ever he had dared to show himself before me, that he presumed not to do it more. They brought me where with to refresh myself from time to time, which I refused so obstinately, as made the Moor to fea● he had but gotten a very useless prize. In the interim the Vessel had passed through the straits mouth, and was not far from the City of Fez when Claudio, came into my Cabin. As soon as perceived it! Villain! who hast betrayed me, cried I what had I done, that should induce thee to make me become the most wretched of all woman kind and to deprive me of my Don Carlos You were too well beloved by him, replies he, and since my affection to him was no whit inferior to yours, it could be no great crime, to endeavour to remove a Rival so much doted on. Amet hath likewise betrayed me, and I should be perhaps as much afflicted as yourself, did I not find somewhat of comfort and support in having another in the like condition of misery with myself; unfold these Riddles, said I, and inform me whom thou art, that so I may be able to guests whether thou art a friend or enemy to me! Sophia, replies he straightway, I am of your own Sex, and like yourself was enamoured of Don Carlos; but though we burned with equal flames, yet the success was different. Don Carlos ever loved you, and ever thought that you repaid it him again; but me he never loved, nor could believe I cherished ●ny such passion for him, as having never known me to be what indeed I am. I am a Native of Valentia like yourself, and was not of so poor a Birth or Fortune, but that if Don Carlos had married me, he might have been above the censure of such as cast away themselves too meanly. But the affection he had for you, took him so wholly up, that he was blind to any object else. Nor were my eyes wanting to do their utmost to save my mouth the shame and labour of making a public discovery of my weakness; I went to all places where I could hope to meet him; and set myself where he might best behold me, omitting nothing in my diligence towards him which he indeed should have done towards me, had he loved me, as I loved him. I was then at my own disposal both for my Person and Estate, being left an Orphan very young; and I had often propositions made of parties suitable to my quality; but still the flattering hopes of alluring Don Carlos to my wishes, made me stop my ears to all could be alleged by any else. Instead of being disheartened at the unhappy progress of my love, as any other would have surely been, that had been Mistress of the Perfections which made me more accomplished then vulgar Ladies are, I was the rather excited to love Don Carlos more and more, my passion increasing with the difficulty I met in obtaining what I sought so eagerly for. In fine, that I might leave nothing unassaid, which might prove a self reproach, but attempt all things conducing, even to the least appearance of possibility, I designed to cut off my hair, and having shrouded myself in a man's habit, I was presented to do Don Carlos, by an old Domestic Servant o● mine, who had lived in the Family many years who took upon him the Title of a decayed Gentleman, and my Father, an inhabitant of the Valleys of Toledo. My shape and Mien which were not displeasing to your lover, soon persuaded him to take me, yet did he not discover who I truly was, though he had so often beheed me formerly and he was as much taken with my Wit, and Skill in singing and playing, as with my person, finding my aptness to all those little Arts, which are no● to be condemned in the best Nobility. H● thought he found in me, that breeding to which few Pages do attain, to which I added so many testimonies of Fidelity and Discretion, that he soon treated me rather as his Confident then his Servant. You know better than any one whethe● I give a faithful account in what I relate to my own advantage. You have a thousand time● praised me yourself before Don Carlos even in my presence, and rendered me many obliging office● towards him; but it stung me to the heart to be indebted for them to a Rival, which consideration made you become so much the more hateful to the unhappy Claudia (for so I am called) as they made me the dearer to Don Carlos. Your Marriage, in the mean time went forward, and my hopes backward. The first was concluded, the other was destroyed. The Italian Count, who about that time fell in love with you, whose Wealth and Quality were as great baits to your Father, as his ill Mien & more unhandsome qualities were scare-crows to you, procured me at least the pleasure to see you countermined in your love; and then flattered my soul with those fond hopes which every little change breeds in unhapy minds. In fine, your Father, preferred the stranger you did not love, to him you loved more than yourself. I beheld him who had made me unfortunate, plunged into a greater misfortune himself, and that Rival I had so much aversion for, thrown from her highest hopes into a worse condition than my own, because I lost nothing in him in whom I never could get any interest; but you lost all in Don Carlos who was yours entirely, which loss moreover, though it were very great, was yet far less considerable, then to become a Subject to that eternal Tyrant, whom you could never fancy in the least. But this Mushroom prosperity, or to say better, this vain imagined hope, soon withered again. I understood by Don Carlos, that you were resolved to follow him, and was myself employed to see all things in readiness for his design to convey you to Barcelona, and from thence to France or Italy. All the strength and patience I was till then endued with to support my Sufferings, left me at once at this strange resolution, which was so much the more amazing, as it was unexpected that ever it could have been put in practice. I was afflicted even to sickness, and such a sickness as confined me to my bed. One day as I was bemoaning myself of my cruel Fate, when my belief that no body was near enough to overhear, made me as earnest and loud as if I had spoken to some confident of my Amours, I saw the Moor Amet appearing before me, who had listened to my Discourse, and who after he had given me time enough to recollect myself from the disturbance he had put me into, spoke thus to me.  
I know thee Claudia, and that even before thou hadst disguised thy Sex, to serve Don Carlos as a Page; and the reason why I never discovered that I knew thee, was because I had a design on foot as well as thou hadst. I have now overheard what desperate resolutions thou hast fixed upon; thou wilt reveal thyself to thy Master, and let him know thou art a young Maid, languishing for the love of him, yet not expecting any retribution of love again, resolvest to kill thyself before his face, thereby to deserve he should at least regret her whom he never would vouchsafe to love. Poor Maid! what canst thou think to do in murdering thyself, but secure Sophia the better in the possession of her Don Carlos? I have better and more happy counsel for thee, if thou be'st capable of apprehending me. Deprive thy Rival of her Lover; the way is facile, if you dare believe me, and though it requires some more than ordinary resolution, yet not above what thou hast shown in taking the habit of a man upon thee, which made thee run the hazard of forfeiting thy honour to obtain thy love. Harken therefore to me with attention, continued the Moor; for I will now reveal a secret to thee, which I till now did never commit to any trust but thine, and if the design I shall now propound, be not both rational and pleasing, it depends on you to follow, or to slight it. I am of Fez, a person of Quality in my own Country; my misfortune made me a slave to Don Carlos, and my inclination subjected me as much to Sophia's beauty; Thus have I in a few Syllables discovered many things of moment. Thou thinkest thy misery above relief, because thy Lover contrives to carry away his Mistress, and convey her to Barcelona. This makes both for thy happiness and mine, if thou wilt take the best advantage of this opportunity; I have treated about my ransom, and paid it down. An Africa Galeot attends for me in the Road, not far distant from the place, where Don Carlos hath appointed another to lie ready at Anchor to complete his design. He hath defered his Voyage for a day: let us prevent him with as much diligence as policy. Go and advertise Sophia, on thy Master's behalf, that she should prepare herself to go away this night, when thou shalt come and give warning of it: Conduct her to my Vessel, I will transport her into afric, and thou shalt remain alone in Valentia to enjoy thy beloved; who perhaps would as soon have chosen thee as Sophia, had he been made acquainted with thy passion.  
At these last words of Claudia, I was so overcome with my just grief, that fetching a deep sigh, I fell into another swound, without leaving any the least sign of life. The shrieks of Claudia, who happily then began to repent her, that she had made me so unfortunate, and yet undone herself, summoned * Amet and his Brother into the Cabin where I lay. They applied all the Remedies they could, with which I recovered at length, and then heard. Claudia reviling the Moor for th● treachery he had used towards us. Faithless dog said she to him, why didst thou counsel me to reduce this beautiful Creature to the deplorable condition thou beholdest her in, since thou has● not left me to the possession of what she is rob of? and why hast thou made me perpetrate such a crime against him I so dearly loved, which proves as pernicious to myself as him? How dared thou avouch thou art of noble Parentage in thy Country, since thou ownest a spirit beneath the meanest of slaves? Peace, simple Girl, replied Amet, do not asperse me in a crime in which thou art Confederate, I have already put you in mind, that whosoever could betray a Master, like thyself, deserved to be trepanned, and that in bringing thee away, I secured my own, and perhaps Sophia's life, who might possibly have died for grief, should she have known thou hadst remained with Don Carlos.  
The noise made by the Mariners who were entering into the harbour of Salley, and the shooting of some Guns aboard, to which the Town gave answer, interrupted the further reproaches betwixt Amet and Claudia, and for a time freed me from the loathed sight of those two persons: We went a ashore; Claudia and myself had Veils thrown over our faces, and we were lodged with the perfidious Amet, at a Moors of his kindred. The next day, we were put into a close Chariot, and driven to Fez, whereas Amet was welcomed by his Father with much joy, I went in as the most afflicted, and the most despairing person in the world. As for Claudia, she soon provided better for her condition, by renouncing her Christianity and espousing Zaida, the Brother to the treacherous Amet. This wicked wretch omitted no artifice to persuade me likewise to change my belief; and take Amet into my Marriage bed, as she had done Zaida, and became the greatest Tyrant to me, even when, they having assayed in vain by kindness, promises and civil treatments to allure me to a compliance; Amet, and his people exercised on me all the Barbarisms they could imagine. I was fain to make use of my constancy every day in opposing so great a number of enemies, and then found myself indeed more able to undergo my troubles, than I could have desired; when I began again to believe that Claudia repent her having been so strangely wicked: In public she seemed to persecute me with more animosity than the rest, but in private, she sometimes rendered me some good services, which made me look upon her, as one that might possibly have proved Virtuous; had she but been Educated accordingly.  
One day, when all the rest of the Women were gone to the public Baths, as it is the custom amongst you Mahometans, she came and found me where I then was, with a face compose to sadness, and spoke to me in these terms. Fairest Sophia! whatever former reason I have had to hate you, that aversion is now disbanded, having lost the hopes of ever enjoying him, who never loved me enough, because he loved you too well. I must now condemn myself perpetually for having rendered you unhappy, and for abandoning my God, for fear of man; The least part of which remorse were enough to arm me to the undertaking of what is most difficult to my Sex. I can live no longer at this distance from Spain, and the Christian Continent, with infidels, amongst whom, I know it is impossible to find Salvation either vvhilst I live, or after I am dead: You may judge of the sincerity of my repentance, by this secret which I now impart to you, which makes you Mistress of my life; and puts an opportunity into your hands to retribute all those mischiefs I have been forced to act against you. I have gained fifty Christian slaves, the most part Spaniards to be for me all persons fit and capable to undertake a great design, with some moneys which I have secretly furnished them withal; they have procured a Bark able to carry us all into Spain, if God will prosper so good a design; It rests in you, whether you will follow me in this enterprise, and save yourself if I be saved, or perishing with me, at least free yourself from the Captivity of your cruel enemies, by putting a Period to so troublesome a life; as, now, yours needs must be. Determine therefore, Sophia, and while we cannot be suspected to have any design, resolve without wasting the time, on that which most concerns both your liberty and mine.  
I cast myself at Claudia's feet, and judging of hers by my own heart, could not at all distrust the sincerity of her fair words; I thanked her with all the power of expression, and all the gratitude of my soul; and methoughts this was an earnest of those benefits she would bestow on me: We appointed the day to take our flight towards the Seaside, where she assured me, that cercain little Rocks hid our Vessel from being easily discovered. The day which I had promised to myself should be so happy was now come; We got forth both out of the House and Town very prosperously. I admired at the goodness of Heaven for the safety we met with in the beginning of our design, and gave them hearty thanks for this early success; But my troubles were not so near their Period as I reckoned. Claudia acted only by order of the perfidious Amet; and being more perfidious than he, she led me into this solitary Creek, in the Evening, only to expose me to the violence of the Moor, who durst not make an assault upon my chastity in his Father's House, although a Mahometan, because he was a very honest moral man. I innocently wandered after her, who was leading me to my ruin, and guessed I could never be able sufficiently to acknowledge the favour of that happy liberty she was going to bestow on me. I was not weary of hiving her thanks, nor yet of going a good pace through bad ways encompassed with Rocks, where she assured me her people waited for us, when suddenly hearing a great Noise behind me, and turning my head, I perceived Amet with his Scimitar drawn. Infamous slaves I cried he, it is thus you run away from your Masters? I had not the leisure to answer him, Claudia seizing on my arms behind, and Amet letting his Scimitar fall out of his hand, joined with the Renegado, and together used al● their strength to bind my hands with cords whic● they had brought thither for that purpose. Bu● I having more strength and activity than is ordi●nary to my Sex, did a long while resist the at●tempts of these two wicked wretches; when a● length I found myself enfeebled, and distrusting my resistance, had no other recourse but to my cries, which I hoped might call in and direct some Passenger to that Solitary place; nay I had almos● lost those very hopes too, when the Prince Mule● came to my rescue, beyond my Expectation. You know how he preserved my honour, and I may say my life, since I should certainly have yielded it up to grief, had the base Amet gained so much his will as to have satiated his brutish intents. Sophia▪ thus concluded the recital of her Adventures, and the amiable Zoraida encouraged her to hope th● Prince's Generosity would furnish her with the means to return into Spain again, and the same day she informed her husband of all what Sophia had told her, which he related to Mulei; though what had been discovered to him of the Fortune of the fair Christian, did no way flatter the passion he had for her, yet was he satisfied, being truly Virtuous to have this knowledge of her, and be ascertained that her affection was already engaged in her own Country, lest he might have attempted an unworthy action, out of the fond hope of an easy Victory. He valued Sophia's virtue, and was prompted by his own to endeavour to render her less unfortunate than she was. He sent her word by Zoraida, that he would take care for her return into Spain, when ever she desired it, and ●●ter he had taken up that resolution, he declined ●●siting of her, not daring to trust his own Ve●●●e, or the Temptation her Beauty carried with it. ●he was not a little troubled to find out a secure ●ay for her return. The Voyage was long from ●●ence to Spain, who●● Merchants Traded not 〈◊〉 that Country, and though she might find a Christian Vessel, yet being so young and handsome▪ as she was, she feared she might light a●ongst some persons of her own Religion, that ●ould be subject to the same frailties the Moors ●●d shown. Honest civility is a rare freight on shipboard, incontinence being as boundless ●●ere, as in a Camp; and wherever beauty and in●●ency are un-guarded, the insolence of wicked ●●rsons lays hold of the advantage, and sets them 〈◊〉 to attempt all what their wild desires inspires ●●em with. Zoraida counselled Sophia to put on ●●e Habit of a man, since her advantageous stature ●bove that of other Women would facilitate her ●●isguise; she told her it was Mulei's advice, who ●ould not find any one in Fez, with whom he durst ●●fely trust her; and she further assured her that 〈◊〉 had so much goodness and consideration for ●hat belonged to the decency of her Sex; that 〈◊〉 had provided her a Companion of her own ●aith, disguised in the same manner, in whose society she might securely avoid those little trou●les she might otherwise meet with alone in a ●●ip, amongst a Company of Soldiers and Mariner's.  
This Moorish Prince had purchased a Prize of a Pirate which he had taken at Sea; it was a Vess●● belonging to the Governor of Oran, which ha● aboard the whole Family of a Spanish Gentleman which out of some distaste that Governor wa● sending Prisoners into Spain. Mulei had hea● that this Christian was one of the skilfullest Hunt● men in the world, and Hunting being this youth●●ful Princes chief Recreation, he would needs kee● him for his slave, and the better to secure him s●● he would by no means part him from his Wif● and Son and Daughter. In two years' time, whi●● he had worn out at Fez in Prince Mulei's service he had taught that Prince to shoot with a Pee● exactly, both at Land or Water fowl, sitting 〈◊〉 flying, and shown him several other Games u●●known to the Moors. By these little divertis●●ments he had so gained the Prince's favour, an● was become so necessary a Companion in his pa●●times, that he would never condescend to any randsom, but by all means and liberalities endeavours to wean him from the thoughts of Spain. But h●● continual regret for being banished from his Na●tive Soil without the least hope of ever returning begot so deep a melancholy in him as soon aft●● ended his life, his Wife not long surviving hi● Mulei felt a kind of remorse, that he had not restored to liberty upon their earnest demands, tho●● persons that so highly deserved it for their serv●●ces, and would needs repay the injury he had do●● the Parents, to the Children yet left with him▪ The Daughter was named Dorothea, about th● same age of Sophia; handsome and witty: h●● Brother was not above Fifteen, and was calle● Sancho. Mulei made choice of these to accompany Sophia, and took that opportunity to send them together into Spain; The business was kept very secret, men's  were provided for the two Ladies and the Youth, after the Spanish mode: Mulei expressed his magnificence in the vast quantity of Jewels he bestowed on Sophia. He made very handsome Presents to Dorothea likewise, which added to all those her Father had before obtained from that Prince's liberality, enriched her with a considerable Fortune for her whole life.  
Charles the Fifth made Wars about this time in afric, and had beleaguered the City of Tunis; He had dispatched an Ambassador to Mulei to treat about the ransom of certain Spaniards of Quality, that had been Shipwrecked on the Coasts of Morocco; It was to this Ambassador that Mulei recommeded Sophia under the Title of Don Fernand, a Gentleman of Quality, who desired not to be made known by his own name, and Dorothea with her Brother passed as her followers, the one in quality of her Gentleman, the other her Page. Sophia and Zoraida could not part without regret, and many tears were shed on either side. Zoraida presented the fair Christian with a row of Pearls so rich, that she would not have taken them if that obliging Moor, and her Husband Zulema, who had no less respect for Sophia, than his Wife, had not assured her; she could do nothing that would show more unkindly, than the refusing that pawn of their true amity. Zoraida engaged Sophia to let her hear from her often by way of Tangier; Oran, or those other places which the Emperor held in afric. The Christian Ambassador embarked at Saller, taking along with him Sophia, whom we must henceforward call Do● Fernand. He came to the Emperor's Army, which lay still before Tunis; our disguised Spanish Lady was presented to him as an Andaluzian Gentleman, who for a long time had been a slave to the Prince of Fez; she had no great reason to be so fond of her life, as to fear hazarding of it in the War, and intending to play the Cavalier, she could not with honour have declined to engage often in fight, as many other Valiant persons did, whereof the Emperor's Army was composed. She therefore thrust herself amongst the Volunteers, lost no opportunity to signalise herself, and performed it with so much bravery, that the Emperor heard of the Fame of the counterfeit Don Fernand. It was her happiness to be near him, when in the heat of a dispute wherein the Christians were worsted, he fell into an Ambuscado of Moors, was deserted by his party, and surrounded by the infidels; and in all appearance had been slain, his horse being so under him, had not our Amazon mounted him on hers, and seconding his Valour with acts almost above belief, given to the Christians leisure to rally and come to disengage that Valiant Emperor, so Heroic a piece of service was not unrecompensed. The Emperor bestowed on the unknown Don Fernand a Commandery of St. James of a great Revenue, and a Regiment of Horse belonging to a Spanish Lord that died in the last Fight. He also provided an Equipage fitting a person of Quality for him, and from that day there was not in the whole Army any one either more esteemed or admired, than this Valiant Maid. All the actions of a man were so natural to her; her Visage was so fair, and made her appear so young; her Courage was so admittable in so tender an age, and her Wit so charming, that hardly any man of Quality or Command in all that crowd, but sought her friendship with eagerness. It is not therefore to be wondered at, if all pleading for her, and above all her Gallant deportment, she was suddenly risen to be a Favourite with her Master. About that time some fresh Recruits came from Spain in certain ships which brought over Money and Ammunitions for the Army. The Emperor would needs see them Parade in Arms, being accompanied with his principal Officers, with whom was our Heroine: Amongst those new come Soldiers, she fancied she had spied Don Carlos, nor did her eyes give her false intelligence. She was somewhat discomposed all the rest of that day; caused an inquiry to be made for him in their Quarters, but miss of him, by reason he had changed his name; she slept not all the night, risen with the Sun, and went herself to seek out that dear lover, who had cost her so many tears: she found him, and was not known by him, her stature being changed by her taller growth; and her complexion varied from its primitive Whiteness, to a more tawny colour by the heat of the African Climate; she pretended to take him for another person of her acquaintance, and inquired what News he brought from Sevill, and from such a one, naming the first that came into he thoughts. Don Carlos told her she was mistake● that he had never been at Sevill, but was of Valentia; you perfectly resemble a man that was extreme dear to me, said Sophia to him, and because of this resemblance I shall gladly become you● friend, if you have no aversion to be mine● The same reason which obliges you to proffer m● this amity, had already purchased mine in requital, were it of equal worth with yours, replies Do● Carlos; you likewise bear the image of a person 〈◊〉 have entirely loved a long time: your countenance and speech express you one, only your Se● is different; and certainly, pursued he with 〈◊〉 deep sigh, you are not of her humour. Sophi● could not forbear blushing at Don Carlos last words● which he took little notice of, perhaps by reason his eyes which began to be moistened with tearse could not perceive the sudden shifting of her countenance; she was somewhat moved at it and being unable to hid it any longer, entreated Don Carlos to come and give her a Visit in her Tent, whither she would return and expect him; and so having instructed him where he should find her Quarters, and told him she was called in the Army Don Fernand the Mestre del Campo: she left him upon this information, Don Carlos doubted whether he had showed the respect due to such an Officer. He had already learned in what esteem he was with the Emperor, and how great a sharer of his Favour, though an unknown person, above the rest of the Court; It was easy to find out his Tent and Quarters, which were noted of all, and was as well received there, as any Cavalier could be by any principal Officer. He discovered Sophia's countenance in Don Fernands' face again, was more surprised then at first, and that increased when he heard a Voice that struck him to the heart with every Syllable, renewing the sorrowful remembrance of his dear absent Mistress, whom he had loved above all the world. Sophia still unknown to her Lover, made him eat with her, and afterwards, having caused those which attended to withdraw, and giving strict order that none should be admitted, she made him again repeat what he had told her. That he was of Valentia; and then made him tell her, what she already knew, of their Adventures until the day that she was forced into the Pirates Vessel. Can you believe, added Don Carlos, that a Lady of Quality who had received so many testimonies of my love, and had given me so many proofs of hers, should have no Faith nor Honour; should have so much craft to hid such vile defects, and should prove so blind in her choice, as to prefer a young Page that belonged to me, who stole her away the day before the time appointed by us, to have escaped together. But are you very certain of it, replies Sophia? Fortune over rules all our Actions, and often takes pleasure in disappointing our Projects, and giving a success contrary to what we designed: Your Mistress may have been compelled to leave you, and is perhaps less guilty than unfortunate; would to God, answered Don Carlos, I had any place left to doubt of her frailty, all my losses and trouble flowing from that Spring, would have given me some comfort; nor shoul● I yet think myself past all hopes of happiness ha● I any reason to believe she kept her Faith yet; bu● that is all bestowed on treacherous Claudia, whil● she only feigned a love to me, and yielded up he heart to him. It is evident by what you now say● that you had never any great love for her, sai● Sophia, since you condemn her without a hearing and proclaim her as wicked as light and inconstant. And can any creature be more so, ther● that imprudent Maid hath been, since to take awa● all suspicion that her Page had been guilty of he● flight, she left that night she fled away from her Father's house, a Letter which was too full of malice, and hath made me too miserable to be ever blotted out of my Memory, I shall repeat it to you, and by that leave you to judge how much dissimulation that young Maid was capable of.  
The Letter.  
YOu should not have forbidden me to love Don Carlos after you had ordained me to do it, so great a merit as his could not but inspire me with an Affection proportionate; and when the heart of a young Person, is prepossessed therewith, it leaves no room for any other interest. And therefore I make my escape hence with him whom you encouraged me to love, even from my youth, without whose enjoyment it were as impossible for me to live, as it would be not to die if confined to the embraces of a stranger, whom I should never affect, were he Master of much greater riches than he is. Our offence, if it can be justly esteemed any, deserves your pardon; which if you will vouchsafe, we shall return with greater speed to obtain it, than we now fly from the unjust Violence you would do us,  
SOPHIA.  
You may imagine, pursued D●n Carlos the extreme grief it cast Sophia's Parent into upon the reading this Letter. They flattered themselves with the hopes that I might be yet concealed in some part of the City with their Daughter, or that at least we were not far from thence. They hide the knowledge of their loss from every one but the Viceroy, who was of their kindred, and it was scarcely daylight when the Officers of Justice came into my Chamber, and found me asleep; I was surpized at such a Visit, as much as there was cause for it, and when after they had asked me where Sophia was, I had made the same Question my Answer; my Adversaries were incensed, and hurried me to Prison with extreme severity. I was examined, and could plead nothing in my own Vindication against Sophia's Letter; That evinced the design I had to carry her away, but it was more apparent that my Page vanished at the same time with her. Sophia's Parents made strict search after her, and my friends likewise were no less diligent in making discovery whither the Page had conveyed her; That was the only means to justify my innocency, but we could never get any intelligence of these Fugitive Lovers, which made my enemies accuse me of being guilty of both their Deaths. In fine, Justice seconded by Power, carried it against oppressed innocency; I was informed that I should soon be sentenced, and that it would be to die; I could not hope that Heaven would show any Miracles in my favour, and therefore was resolved to adventure my own escape by an act of despair. I clubbed with some Bandits, my fellow Prisoners, all resolute Knaves; so we forced the Prison Gate, and through the assistance of our friends, we recovered the Mountains nearest adjoining to Valentia, before the Viceroy could have any notice of it; we kept ourselves a long time Masters of the field: Sophia's Infidelity, her Parents eager Persecution, the unjustice I thought the Viceroy had done me; and lastly the loss of my Estate, cast me into so great a despair, that I exposed my life in all the engagements where my Comrades and myself found any resistance, by which I acquired so high a repute amongst them, that they would needs make me their Leader. This I undertook with so great success; that our Troop became dreadful to the Kingdoms of Arragon and Valentia, we having the insolence to put those Countries to pay us contribution. I here make a dangerous and confident discovery to you, added Don Carlos; but the honour you do me, and my own inclination, do so far make me resign myself up to you, that I a● willing to make you Master of my life, by revealing such mad Pranks as I then practised. In the Conclusion, pursued he, I became weary of being so wicked, I stole away from my Confederates who expected otherwise, and took my journey towards Barcelona, where I was entertained a common Trooper amongst those Recruits who were embarquing for afric, and came newly to this Camp. I have no cause to be fond of my life▪ for having made such ill use of it hitherto, I think I cannot employ the remainder of it better, then by hazarding of it against the enemies of our Faith, and for your service while the infinite goodness you express towards me, is the only comfort my soul hath tasted, since the time the most ingrateful Virgin in the world hath made me the most miserable of mankind. The unknown Sophia took the unjustly accused Sophia's part, and omitted nothing that might persuade her Lover not to misinterpret his Mistress' actions, before he had a clearer information: She told the unhappy Cavalier she took his Misfortunes much to heart, that she would willingly sweeten and allay them, and to give him a more effectual evidence hereof then single words; she entreated him to depend upon her, and when she sound a favourable opportunity, she would make use of all her credit, and her friend's power to implore the Emperor to free him from the violent Persecution of Spohia's Parents, and the Vice-Roys anger. Don Carlos could not be persuaded by any Argument the feigned Don Fernand shaped, to justify Sophia; but he at length accepted of the proffer of her Table and Quarter. The very same day, this faithful Lover spoke to the Campmaster concerning Don Carlos, and obtained that as a Kinsman of her● he might be under her command, his I should say Thus our unfortunate Lover is in that Lady's service, whom he believed to be dead or faithless He finds himself in a little time so much in favour that it perplexed him to guests whence sprang th● sudden love; He is immediately made Treasure● Secretary, Gentleman, and Confident. His fellow Servants respect him little less than Don Fernand himself, and no doubt he might be happy finding so much affection in a Master, that appear so amiable, and one whom he is by a secret instinct constrained to love above the common rate, 〈◊〉 inconstant Sophia did not so often come into h●●● thoughts, and bring so great a melancholy there that neither the caresses of so dear a Master, nor h●● repaired Happiness and Fortune, could in the least dispel whatever endearments Sophia used toward him; yet was she pleased to see him afflict himself so much, not doubting but she herself was th● cause of it. She spoke so often to him of Sophia and Vindicated her often times with so muc● heat and tartness when he inveighed against he want of Faith and Honour, that in the end he began to believe that this Don Fernand, who ever renewed the same discourse, had without doubt bee● formerly enamoured with Sophia, and perhaps cherished part of that kindness still. The War in afric was brought to that period, Recorded in the History of those times; The Emperor afterwards carried on the like in Germany, in Italy, and divers other Countries. Our Virago under th● feigned name of Don Fernand increased her Reputation of a Valiant and experienced Captain, by several acts of Courage and Conduct, though this ●ist quality is seldom found in a person of so green ●ears, as this daring Maidens Sex and Features ●ade her appear to be. The Emperor was obliged to go into Flanders, and to that purpose de●●red the King of France to grant him passage ●●rough his Dominions. The grand Monarch ●ho then reigned, would needs in generosity and ●●●eness surpass a mortal enemy, who ever had surpassed him in good Fortune, of which he had ●ot always made the best use. Charles the Fifth ●●as received in Paris, as if he had been really ●ing of France. The fair don Fernand was one of ●●e small retinue of persons of Qualiy that atend●d him, and if his Master had made a longer abode 〈◊〉 that most Gallant Court, that beautiful Spani●d taken for a man, had inspired a great many ●rench Ladies with her love, and caused no little jalousie in the mind of our most accomplished courtier's.  
In the mean while, the Viceroy of Valentia ●●ied in Spain, done Fernand had confidence enough 〈◊〉 his merits, and the affection his Master had so ●●ong expressed as to adventure to Petition him ●or that important command; and obtained it without opposition or envy; He acquainted Don ●arlos as hastily as possible with the good success of ●●e Petition, & made him hope that as soon as ever 〈◊〉 had taken possession of the Government of ●alemia, he would compose the difference between ●im and the Parents of Sophia, obtain his pardon ●f the Emperor for having been head of the Bandits; and also endeavour to repossess him of 〈◊〉 Estate, never leaving to do him all the offices lay in his power when ever any opportuni●● did proffer the means. Don Carlos might hav● tasted some consolation in these noble promises, the too great unhappiness of his love had not ou● weighed all latter comforts. The Emperor arrived in Spain; and went directly to Madrid, an● Don Fernand to Valentia to be possessed of that Government; The next day after his arrival at V●lentia, Sophia's Parents presented a Petition against Don Carlos, who had the Offices both of Steward 〈◊〉 the Viceroy and his Secretary. The Viceroy promised to do them justice, and to protect D●● Carlos his innocency; a new Indictment wa● drawn against him, witnesses were heard a s●cond time, and in Conclusion Sophia's Parents an● mated, with the regret of the loss of their Daughter, and a desire of a just revenge as they supposed, pressed the business so vigorously; that 〈◊〉 five or six day's time it was ready for judgement They desired that the person accused might b● sent to Prison; He gave his parole that he shoul● not stir out of the Court, and appointed a day t●● give judgement. The Even of that fatal day, whic● held all the inhabitants of Valentia in suspense, D●● Carlos begged audience of the Viceroy in pr●●vate, who granted it him: He cast himself at 〈◊〉 feet and spoke thus to him. To morrow is the tim● my Lord, that you are to make known my innocency 〈◊〉 all the world; Though the witnesses which have bee● sworn in my behalf, do fully acquit me of the crime alledged against me; yet am I come to make Oath befor● your Highness, as if I were before a Deity, that not only I had no hand in the conveying away Sophia; but that 〈◊〉 did not so much as see her the day before she went, nor had any intelligence from her then, nor ever since. It is ●ery true, that I should have carried her away; but a Misfortune hitherto kept from my knowledge, ravished ●er hence, to my Ruin and her own.  
Enough, enough, done Carlos, says the Viceroy to him; go and sleep in quiet: I am thy Master, and thy friend, and better informed of thy innocency than thou dost imagine; and though I had some cause to doubt, yet am I obliged not to be too exact in the search, since thou art both in my Family and of my Family, and hadst not adventured hither with me, but on my promise of Security and Protection. Don Carlos returned thanks to so obliging a Master with all the Eloquence he was endued withal. He went to his repose, but his impatience to be acquitted robbed him of sleep, he risen at the first approach of day, and appeared before his Master in a braver Garb than was usual, having dressed him with greatest curiosity, attending his Lords rising. But I mistake, he came not to him till he was ready; for from the time Sophia disguised her Sex, none but Dorothea the Confident of her disguise, and Travestyed like her, was admitted to the Chamber till she was habited, nor rendered her such necessary Sevices, which performed by any other, might have discovered what she nicely concealed. Don Carlos therefore entered the Vice-Roys Chamber, as soon as Dorothea had opened it for all comers; and the Viceroy no sooner spied him, but he reproached his early rising, being a people accused, who would have himself to be though innocent; and told him, that such a person as di● not sleep sound, must needs find his conscience burdened with some guilt. Don Carlos replied, little startled, that it was not the fear of being convicted had disturbed him so much, as the hope that he should suddenly be disengaged from th● pursuit of his mortal enemies; by that Justice h●● Highness would show in the decision of the Process. But you are very fine and gallant, says th● Viceroy to him, and I find you very calm an● composed at a time when Sentence of life or deat● is to be passed upon you. I am now at a stand what to think of the Crime wherewith you stand Charged; when ever we fall on the Discourse of Sophia, you speak of her with less concern and more indifferency than I; yet am not I accused o● having been beloved, or of having murdered her; and possibly young Claudio likewise, on whom you endeavour to fasten this Rape of hers; you say you loved her, continued the Viceroy, and yet live still, though she be lost to you; nor do omi● any thing that may acquit and gain your liberty again; you who should hate your life, and al● that might contribute to any thing of happiness; Ah, inconstant Don Carlos! Certainly some other must needs have made a breach upon your Sou●● and Faith, which you should have preserved intire● for the lost Sophia, if you had truly loved her, when she was solely yours, and durst do any thing for your sake. Don Carlos half dead at these sharp words of the Vice-Roys, would have replied; but he would not suffer it: Hold thy tongue, said he, with a severe countenance, and reserve your Eloquence for your Judges; for as for my part, I cannot be Bribed, nor will I for a Servants sake give the Emperor any cause to suspect me partial 〈◊〉 my Justice; therefore in the mean time, added the Viceroy, turning towards his Guard, take him into safe custody: he that hath broken Prison, may well break his word that he will never seek his impunity by flight. They soon disarmed Don Carlos, which begot pity in all those that beheld ●im thus surrounded with Soldiers, pale and wan, & hardly able to restrain his tears: While this poor Gentleman repent his too great confidence in ●elying on the bare promises of fickle Nobility, the Judges entered the Room, and took their Seats, after the Viceroy was set down in his. The Italian Count who was now at Valentia, and Sophia's Father and Mother appeared, and produced their witnesses against the party accused, who so far di●paired of his process, that he had scarce the cou●age left to make answer. They made him acknowledge the Letters he had otherwhile addressed to Sophia; her Father's Neighbours and Domestic Servants were brought to confront him; and in fine, they shown the very Letter she left ●n her Chamber, the day they pretended he had conveyed her away. The Prisoner caused his own Servants to be examined, who avouched they saw ●heir Master in bed that night; but he might perhaps have risen again the same night after a pre●ended sleep. He made Oath, indeed, he had not ●arried away Sophia, and desired the Judges to consider that it was not probable he should stea● her away to part from her; but they urged h● had murdered both her, and the Page, who wa● the chief Privado in their Amours; Nothing remained now, but to pass Sentence, and they wer● ready to pronounce against him, when the Viceroy caused him to approach, and said; Wretche● Don Carlos! thou mayst well believe, having me with such frequent testimonies of my affection that if I had in the least thought thee guilty of th● crime alleged against thee, I would not have per●swaded thee to come to Valentia: But it is, no● I find, utterly impossible to clear thee, unless should begin to execute my Office by an act o● unjustice, and therefore I leave thee to judge ho● much this unhappiness grieves me, by these tear● that steal down my cheeks; I might endeavour to make some agreement betwixt both parties were not their quality and animosity too great t● be compounded with; So that in short, unless Sophia herself can personally appear to justify wha● thou dost plead, thou hast no other hopes but t● prepare thyself for death. Carlos despairing o● all mercy, cast himself at the Vice-Roys Feet; and said, You may remember my Lord, that ever sinc● the time I had the honour to be entertained i● your service in afric, and as oftentimes as you● Highness engaged me to the troublesome, because melancholy, recital of my Misfortunes; I hav● ever repeated it after the same manner, and you may believe that both there, or in what other place soever, I should not have affirmed that, to a● Master so obliging as you shown yourself in you● particular affection towards me, which I should dare deny before the severest Judges. I ever unbosomed the real truth to you, as I would do to my Confessor or the Deity itself; and therefore I must reiterate the same again, by avowing that I loved, nay adored Sophia. Say, thou dost still adore her, ingrateful man, replies the Viceroy, surprising all the Company; I do adore her yet, pursued Don Carlos, being amazed at what the Viceroy said. I have engaged to marry her, continued he, and had agreed to carry her to Barcelona; But if I now know who conveyed her hence, if I know where she is now concealed, I shall submit to the worst of deaths. I cannot aviod it now I find; but yet this comfort will go with me, That I die innocently, unless it be a Crime to have loved an inconstant and perfidious Maid above my Life and Fortunes. But, cried the Viceroy with a fierce countenance, what are become of that Virgin and thy Page? Are they climbed up to Heaven? Or are they hid beneath the Earth? The Page was a Gallant, answered D●n Carlos, and she a Beauty; he was a Man, and she a Maiden. Ah! Traitor! said the Viceroy, now thou dost fully discover thy base jealousy, and the mean esteem thou hadst for thy Sophia! Cursed is that Woman, who relies upon the vain promises of man, whose easy faith does only breed their scorn. But neither was Sophia a person endued only with those weak virtues common to her Sex, thou wretch, nor was thy Page Claudio a man. Sophia was a constant Virgin, and thy Page a Maid lost and transformed for the love of thee, who stole Sophia from thee, betraying her because she was her only Rival. I am Sophia, thou unjust, thou ingrateful Lover I am Sophia, who hav● endured things above belief, for a person that never deserved to be beloved, having suspected m● guilty of the ugliest infamy. Sophia could say n● more: her Father who now plainly discovered i● was she, snatched her in his arms; Her mothe● fell into a swoon on one side, and Don Carlos on th● other. Sophia broke from her Father's embraces t● run to the assistance of those two, who were again recovered before she could deliberate whether o● them she should secure first. Her Mother's joy expressed itself in tears, while she with tears repaid her Mother's love again. She embraced he dear Don Carlos in her arms with so much tenderness and affection, that he was like to have falle● again into a swoon; But much ado he mastere● his transporting content, and daring not to Kis● his Sophia yet with too much liberty, he reaped the satisfaction on her fair hands, which were du● from her fairer lips. Sophia was almost tired wit● the many civil embraces and compliments of the whole Company. The Italian Count did like th● rest, but withal began to mention the claim he laid to her, as having the engagement of her Father and Mother: Don Carlos hearing that let go one of Sophia's hands, which he was greedily Kissing, and laying hold on his Sword, which was newly restored to him, put himself in a posture● that terrified the Company, and swearing he would sooner ruin the whole City, made it appear that no earthly power should deprive him o● Sophia, unless she herself had otherwise determined. But she openly declared she never would make any other person her Husband but her dear Don Carlos, and conjured her Father and Mother to set their Seal of approbation to it, unless they would resolve to make her vow herself a Nun. her Parents willingly gave her free liberty to make her own choice; so that the Italian Count road away Post that very same day to Italy, or to some such other Country as he most fancied Sophia related all her various Adventures, which were admired by every one; a Courier was dispatched away with the News of this wonder to the Emperor, who bestowed the Command of Viceroy upon Don Carlos after his Marriage was consummated, and for a recompense of those Noble Actions which this Valiant Virgin had undertaken he bestowed a principality upon the Family, which their Heirs have in possession to this day. The City of Valentia made a magnificent preparation for the Celebration of this Wedding at their own Charges: And Dorothea having changed her habit, was at the same time espoused to a Cavalier that had a near relation to Don Carlos.   

CHAP. XV.  
The impudénce of Mounsieur de la Rapiniere.  
THe Counsellor of Reins had made an end of reading his Novel, when la Rapiniere arrived at the Inn; He came rashly into the Chamber, where they told him he should find Mounsieur de la Garouffiere; but the full blown Roses of his face changed visibly, when he beheld Destiny in one corner of the Room, and his Servant by him in as sad and trembling a condition, as a condemned Prisoner. La Garouffiers bolted the Chamber-door withinside, and immediately demanded the Bravo, if he could not guests wherefore he had sent for him? Is it not about a Woman Actor whom I endeavoured to have my share in, replied the wretch laughing? How your share? Says Garouffiere, with a serious countenance; are these becoming answers for a Judge, or have you ever caused a greater Villain to be hanged then yourself? La Rapiniere turned it still to Raillery, and would fain have passed it over, as an Act only of Mirth or good fellowship; but the Senator aggravated the Fact so much, that in the end he cónfessed the enormity of his design, and excused it slightly to Destiny, who had need of a great stock of Wisdom, not to require full satisfaction of a person that had so heinously offended him, to whom he was obliged for his life, as may be seen ●n the beginning of these Comical Adventures. But there was another business, yet, to be decided betwixt this wicked Provost and him, of great concernment, which he had communicated to Mounsieur la Garouffiere, who engaged to him full satisfaction for it, whatever pains I have taken to ●now this Rapiniere, yet could I never discover ●hether he were more wicked towards God, or ●owards Mankind, or less unjust to his Neighbour, then vicious in his own person: But this I certainly know, that never any one man, had more Vices reigning in him together, nor in a more eminent degree. He owned that his plot was to ●ave stolen away Madam Star, as confidently, as ●he talked of nothing but what was justifiable in ●y honest heart; and boldly said to the counsellor and Comedian, That he never had less cause to doubt of the success of any enterprise in that ●ind; for, continued he, turning himself towards Destiny, I had Bribed your man; your Sister was ●●llen into the Trap, and intending to meet you, where I had made her believe you lay wounded, he was not above two Leagues distant from the ●ouse where I waited for her, when I know not ●hat Devil took her away from that great Sot ●ho was bringing her, and made him lose a good ●orse of mine, after he had been shrewdly cudgeled himself. Destiny grew pale through madness, and sometimes blushed for shame to see with ●hat an impudent face this Rascal durst relate to him the injury he had endeavoured a 'gainst him as if it had been but an indifferent thing. La Garouffiere was moved likewise, and had as much in dignation for so lewd and dangerous a fellow; wonder, said he, how you dare so freely discover all these circumstances of an act, for which Destiny had sound banged you, had I not interposed But let me tell you, he may peahaps do it yet, unless you restore that Box of Diamonds to hi● which you stole from him at Paris, when you were a Pickpocket. Doguin your confederate then and your Servant since, discovered at his death that you have it still; and therefore I declare, tha● if you make the least denial of it, I shall become a● much your Enemy, as I have hitherto been you Friend and Protector; Lafoy Rapiniere was Thunder struck at these words which he little expected His usual impudence to deny such crimes as these failed him on a sudden. He began stammeringly to acknowledge that he had that Box at Manse and with horrible execrations promised to restor it, and this was perhaps one of the most ingenious actions of his whole life, yet was he not sincere i● this: for though it be true indeed that he gave back the Box, yet he dissembled in telling them 〈◊〉 was at Manse, having it then about him, with intent to have bestowed it upon Mrs. Star, in cas● she would not have parted with her honour at a cheaper rate. This he in private confessed to Garouffiere, whereby he thought to regain hi● good will, putting this Picture Box into his hand to dispose of it, as he pleased; It was enriched with five Diamonds of a considerable value. Madam Stars Fathers Picture was in it Enamelled, and this handsome Girls face had so great a resemblance with it, that this alone was sufficient to justify whose Child she was. Destiny did not know where to find thanks sufficient to express his mind to La Garouffiere, when he resigned up the Box to him; He found himself eased of the trouble of getting it per force out of the Clutches of Rapiniere, who was acquainted with nothing less than restitution, and who might have prevailed against a mean Comedian being himself a Provost, which is a crabbed Cudgel in a madman's hands. When this Box first was taken from Destiny, it troubled him excessively, and this trouble increased upon the account of Stars Mother, who preserved this Toy, as the Legacy of her Husband's affection. One may from thence easily guests how mightily he rejoiced for the recovery of such a treasure. He went and told the News to Star, whom he found at the Parish Curates Sister's house, in company with Angelica and Leander: They consulted about their return to Manse, and it was resolved for the next day. Mounsteur la Garouffiere proffered them a Coach, which was not accepted of. The Actors of both Sexes supped with la Garouffiere and his company; They went to bed betimes in the Inn, and the next morning early Destiny and Leander, each with his Mistress behind him, road towards Manse, whither Ragotin, Rancour, and Olive, were already returned. La Garouffiere proffered his service a hundred times over to Destiny; As for la Bouvillon, she feigned herself sicker than she really was, that so she might not be obliged to suffer the Comedian to take h●● farewell of her, since he had not given her the satisfaction she desired.   

CHAP. XVI.  
Ragotin's Misfortune.  
THE Brace of Comedians who returned to Manse with Ragotin, were lead out of the direct Road by the little fellow, who would needs treat them in a small Country house, proportionate to his stature; and though an exact Historian is obliged to particularise all the important accidents of his History, and the places where they happened, yet shall not be so curious as to tell you precisely in what part of our Hemisphere stood the little hovel to which Ragotin lead his future Consorts, or Fellow Actors, whom I term thus, because he was not as yet initiated into the Vagabond crew of Itinerant Comedians. I shall therefore only assure you that it was within the pale of Christendom; when he had brought them to it, he found the house occupied by a company of Bohemians or Gipsies, who to his Tenants great sorrow had taken up their Quarters there, upon a pretence that the Captain's Wife was taken with the pains of Childbirth, whereas it was rather in hopes to Feast their ungodly guts with some stolen Fowl whereof there was great plenty in a place ●●r adjoining. At first desh, Ragotin began to ●mineer, and in his anger was like a little pot, ●on heated, threatening the Bohemians with the ●ovost of Manse, to whom, he said, he was allied, 〈◊〉 having married one of the Portals, whereupon 〈◊〉 made a long Discourse to inform the Auditors ●●w the Portals came to be of Kin to the Ragotins, ●●ich tedious story nevertheless had not abated 〈◊〉 Choleric humour one jot, or made him leave ●s abominable swearing. He threatened him also ●ith the Provost la Rapiniere, at whose name eve●●● one trembled: But the Bohemian or Gipsy Bohemian Captain put him out of all patience by 〈◊〉 taking so civilly to him, and had the confidence 〈◊〉 commend his good mien, which was a token of 〈◊〉 more than ordinary quality, and gave him no ●●use to repent his having ignorantly taken up ●at Castle for his Quarters (for so this Rascal call●● his petty house, though it was only fortified ●ith a withered hedge.) He told him moreover, ●hat the groaning Lady would soon be delivered, ●●ed then their little Troop would march away with ●ag and Baggage, having first paid the good Far●●er for such Provisions as they had used for themselves and their Beasts. Ragotin was at his 〈◊〉 its end, because he could not pick a quarrel ●ith this fellow, who laughed at him to his very ●●ce, and made him a thousand Congees, But yet ●is Phlegmatic Bohemian began to make his blood ●ise in Rebellion in his heart & face, when Rancour ●nd the Captain's Brother remembering each other, ●●s having been of old acquainted, opposed all, and Ragotin laid aside his sharp contest, whi●● might have bred ill blood, because he had urge things a little too severely. Rancour brought h●● quickly to an accord, which he in his mind h●● wished for before, and had perhaps sought for himself, could he but have quelled his proud, r●ther then valiant, mind. In this interim the Bohemian Lady was delivered of a Boy, Great was t●● joy in this little Company, so that the Captain invited the Comedians and Ragotin to Supper, having before made some Chickens ready for Fricaseé. They set down to Table, the Bohemians were provided with partridges and Har● which they had taken with their Dogs, and two young Turkeys, and as many Pigs they ha● stolen; They likewise had a Jambon and Nea● Tongues in store, and made a deep incision in Leuret Pie, whose crust was devoured by four o● five Epitomies of Bohemians that waited at the Table, add to these Ragotins Fricaseé of six Pigeons and you must confess they had cheer enough. Th● Guests, besides the Comedians were to the number of Nine, all nimble Dancers, and bette● Pick pockets: They began their Cups with the King's health and the Princes, and they proceeded till they had drank to all those Noblemen tha● suffered them to harbour in their Countries; Th● Captain entreated the Comedians to drink to the Memory of the deceased Charles Dodo the Uncle of the Lady that lay in the Straw, who was hanged during the siege of Rochel by the Treachery o● Captain lafoy Grave. They made divers imprecations against that Captain as a false Brother, and against all Provost Marshals, and made great waste 〈◊〉 Ragotins' Wine, the virtue whereof was such, ●●at their debauch was free from any thing of ●arrel, and every guest, not excepting the Mis●thropus Rancour made high protestations of friendship each to the other, kissed each others ●eek, and being Maudlin, watered their sprightly ●●asses of Wine with tears of joy and affection. Ragotin was very pleasant and civil for the honour of his house, and soaked up his tipple like a sponge; Having been bibbing all night, one ●ould think he should have laid down to sleep when the Sun risen; but the same Wine that had ●●ept them so peaceably in their Society, inspired ●hem all at the same instant with a spirit of separation, if I may say so. The Caravan made up their ●●cks, not forgetting some small Trinkets belonging to Ragotins' Tenants, and the jolly Landlord ●ounted his Mule, and being now as serious as he ●as before transported during the last meal, took ●is journey towards Manse, never minding whether Olive or Rancour followed him, but wholly taken up with blowing a pipe of Tobacco, though 〈◊〉 had been all out above half an hour before. He had not gone above half a League. still sucking his Pipe which afforded not one whiff of smoke, but ●he fumes of the Wine invading his Crown Office made his brains turn of a sudden; He fell off from ●is Mule, which very orderly returned to his Farm ●ouse, whence it came, and as for Ragotin, after ●e had eased his overburdened stomach, he fell ●●to a profound sleep in the midst of the Highway. He had not slept long, snoring like a cracked Organ pipe, when a naked man, like t●● Picture of our old Father Adam; but strange hairy, dirty and nasty, drew near him, and beg●● to strip off his . This wild man took great deal of pains to draw off the new Boo● which Rancour had by a supposition appropriate to himself in an Inn, as I have formerly related some part of this true History, but all this pull i● which must have awakened Ragotin, had he ●● been dead drunk (as the phrase is) and would ha●● made him cry out like a man dragged at a hors● rail, had no other effect on him, but 〈◊〉 draw him bare-breeched seven or eight paces from the place he first lay in; a knife b●● chance fell out of this sleeper's pocket; the wi●● fellow ceased on it, and as if he would have flea● Ragotin, he slit his , shirt, boots and stockings, and all what he could not otherwise strip o●● easily, and having uncased him, and made o●● bundle of all the naked Drunkards spoil, he laid 〈◊〉 on his shoulder and fled with it as a Wolf do●● with a Lamb; Leave we this man running awa● with his spoil, it being the same distracted fello● that had before affrighted Destiny so terribly, whe● he began his pursuit after Angelica, and rather attend Ragotin, who waked not, though he indeed deserved to be awakened, standing so much i● need of it. His naked Corpse being exposed t● the hot Sun, was soon covered, assaulted and stun● by Bees and several other sorts of armed flies which yet could not awaken him; but he wa● roused soon after by a company of Peasants who were driving a Cart. The naked Ragotin no sooner appeared to their view, but they all cried, There 〈◊〉 is, and drawing nearer to him with the least ●oise possible, as if they had been afraid to disturb ●im, they made themselves sure of his feet and ●ands, which they tied together with good strong ●ords; and having thus bound him, they carried ●im to their Cart, and so drove away with as much speed as a gallant that hath stolen a Mistress both ●gainst her own and her friends consent. Ragotin was so damnably drunk that all this violence done ●im, did not make him sensible, no more than the ●olting of the Cart, which these fellows drove a●ong so furiously, and with such precipitation that 〈◊〉 overturned in a deep miry way wherein was a great deal of water, and Ragotin by consequence overturned with it. The sudden cold of the wa●er, and the uneasiness of the stones, or some such ●●even thing which saluted him at his rude fall, made him wake, and the strange condition he felt himself in, made him almost mad; He found that ●e was tied both hand and foot, and wallowing ●ike David's Sow in the mire; He felt his head in ●ain both with his drink and fall, and could not ●ut wonder to see three or four Country fellows ●ifting him up, and as many more dragging out ●he Cart. He was so scared at this adventure, ●hat he did not so much as speak one word though ●e had so good a subject to prate of, and was naturally very talkative; and a moment after he ●ould not have discovered to any body, though he ●ad never so great mind to it: for the Peasants ●aving held a secret counsel together, untied the ●ittle Prisoners legs only; and instead of telling him wherefore, or expressing the least civility, observing a sullen silence amongst them, they turne● the Care back the same way it had come, and drov● it with as much precipitation as they came thither The discreet Reader is perhaps puzzled to kno● what these fellows would have had with Ragotin and wherefore they did nothing to him▪ 〈◊〉 Th● thing is certainly very difficult to be unfolded, an● cannot be well understood without a revelations And for my own part, what pains soever I took though I had consulted with all my friends, ye● could I never have attained the knowledge but b●● a chance when I least expected it; as I shall no● relate it to you.  
A Priest of the lower Main, somewhat foolishly melancholy, whom a Law suit had brought 〈◊〉 Paris, during the time his process was making ready for a hearing, would needs Print some whimsical fancies he had scribbled on the Revelation●● He was so fruitful in Chimaeras, and hugged th● last productions of his own wit so much, that h●● still blotted out the former, and so made the Printers almost mad, being forced to correct the sam● sheet twenty times over at least; who tired there with would never venture on a second, but mad● him run from one Printers to another till at th● last he lighted on the Printer that was at work about this very Comical Romance, where by accident he perused a leaf or two that mentioned thi● same adventure. This good Priest being bette● acquainted with the particulars thereof then myself, as having learned them from the party's tha● ceased on Ragotin, as I said before, perceive● wherein the relation was defective, and having told the Printer as much (who was not a little surprised; because he like many others had an opinion that my Romance was only a Fabulous story of my own invention) was soon persuaded by the Printer to come and give me a visit; Then was I informed by this faithful Mansean, that the Peasants who had bound Ragotin when asleep, were the near kindred of the poor Fool that run about the Country, whom Destiny met once in the night, and who had stripped Ragotin in the day time. They had resolved to coop up their Kinsman, had tried several times to do it, and had as many times been sound banged by him, he being a stout rugged fellow: Some that belonged to the Village, having at a distance espied Ragotin lying in the Sun, took it to be the fool asleep, and daring not come near him for fear of a beating; they gave notice to those Country Fellows, who adventured to seize on him with all those precautions before mentioned; took Ragotin without ●nowing who he was, and discovering afterwards ●heir mistake, set his feet at liberty and turned him going with his hands bound, that he might do them no mischief in revenge. The Memoires 〈◊〉 had from this Priest pleased me very much, ha●ing done me a considerable service; nor did I do ●im a less in counselling him as a friend, not to proceed any further in the publishing his Book of Ridiculous Visions, Some Readers will perhaps accuse me for having inserted this needless circumstance; but others no less judicious, cannot but praise me for my sincerity herein. Return we to Ragotin, his body all besmeared and bruised, his mouth dry and gaping like the parched earth, his head dull and heavy, and his arms pinioned behind him. He got up as well as he could● and having cast his eyes round about him as fa● as he could look, not being able to see either house or man near him, he beat it on the hoof down the nearest Road to him, studying to find out the bottom of his disaster. His hands being thus tied behind, exposed him to the troublesome inconvenience of many importunate flies, who settled o● those parts of his naked body whither his hand could not reach, and obliged him oftentimes t● lay him along on the ground, and so rub them off or squeeze the little stinging Serpents to death A● length he met with a deep way, clothed with thick hedges on either hand, and filled with th● streams of a little purling Spring, which ran down to a Neighbouring River. This gave him cause to rejoice, intending to wash and cleanse himself of the mud which stuck upon his body; but coming near a Ford, he saw a Coach over-turned out of which the Coachman, and another fellow were haling five or six Religious Nuns who were well soaked, and this charitable deed they performed upon the grave exhortations of a Venerable Church man. It was the ancient Abbess of Estival who was returning from Manse, whither an important business had summoned her, and who by the Coachman's fault was thus Coach-wrackt The Abbess and her Nuns being pulled out of the Coach, perceived afar off the figure of naked Ragotin walking directly towards them, whereat they were hugely scandalised, yet not so much as Father Giflot, the discreet Director of the Abbey. He made the devout Sisters hastily face about for ●ear of irregularity, and cried out with all his night to Ragotin that he should make a halt. Ragotin thrust forward still, and was coming over along plank that was put there for people to walk ●ver a foot, and Father Giflot met him on the midway, being followed by the Coachman and the Peasant, doubtful at first, whether he had not best exorcise him, so Diabolical did his shape appear. At length, he asked him, whom he was, whence ●e came, wherefore he was naked, why his hands were manacled; and made all these questions with a great deal of Eloquence, fitting his words ●o the tone of his Voice, and the action of his ●ands. Ragotin incivilly replied, What have you ●o do? and striving to go on w●rd, pushed the reverend Father Giflot so rudely, that he tumbled ●im into the water. The good Priest drew the Coachman after him, and the Coachman the Country Bumkin, and Ragotin thought this man●er of pulling one another in so pleasant, that he ●urst out into a great fit of laughter; He held on ●is way towards the Nuns, who with their Veils ●ver their eyes, turned their blind-sides to him, ●nd their faces to the Fields. Ragotin was very ●●different whether he saw the Nuns modest faces ●●r not, and passed onward, thinking himself free from that encounter; which Father Giflot did not ●●ean to put up so tamely. He pursued Ragotin, ●aving the Peasant and the Coachman for his Seconds, which last being the most choleric of the three; and somewhat heated before, because Madam Abbess had grumbled at his mischance, lef● the gross of the party in the rear, marched singly against Ragotin, and charged him with his whip● taking a smart revenge on the others hid, for th● water that had washed his own; Ragotin durs● not abide a second charge, but ran away like 〈◊〉 dog with a bottle at his tail, while the Coachman not satisfied with one lash, gave him half a scor● more to increase his speed, leaving at every stroke the Characters of his wrath written on his bleeding Carcase. Giflot, though broken-winded wit● running so fiercely, had yet breath enough lef● him to cry out, Whip him, whip him sound 〈◊〉 which animated the Coachman to redouble hi● stripes upon Ragotin, and began to please himself with the cruelty, when a Mill proffered itself a● Sanctuary to this poor wretch. He ran in having his executioner closely at his heels; and finding the door of a little back-yard open entered it, and wa● immediately surprised by a Mastiff who caught him by the Buttocks; He shreiked out most dolefully, and fled to the Garden adjoining with so much haste, and so little good speed, that he tumbled down six hives of Bees that stood just at the going in, which proved the worst of all his Misfortunes. These little winged Elephants, adorned with Proboscides, and armed with stings, assailed this little naked body, which had no hand● to defend itself; and wounded him most horribly. He bawled out so loud that the dog that had bitten him was scared away for fear of him, o● rather of the Bees: The implacable Coachman did the like, and Father Giflot whose anger had for a time over-swayed his charity, repent his having been too Vindicative, and went himself to hasten the Miller and his people, who in his opinion came too lazily to the assistance of the poor fellow thus worried in the Garden. The Miller snatched up Ragotin from amongst the piercing venomous weapons of those swarming enemies; and though much displeased for the overthrow of his Stocks of Bees, yet could he not but pity the miserable patient; He asked him, how the Devil ●e came to thrust himself naked and bound amongst his Bee-hives? But though Ragotin would ●ave replied he could not for the extreme pain ●he suffered all over his body; a little Cub newly whelped, that never was so much as licked into any shape by the She-Bear, is completer fashioned in its Cubbish condition, than Ragotin appeared in his humane figure, after these stinging creatures had made him swell from head to heel. The Miller's Wife as pitiful as most good Women are, got 〈◊〉 bed provided for him, and laid him down in it. Father Giflot, the Coachman and the Peasant returned back to the Abbess of Estival, and the Nuns being re-imbarked in their Coach, and guarded by the Reverend Father Giflot mounted ●on a Mare, continued their journey; It happened that this Mill belonged to Du Rignon, or his Son-in-law Bagottiere (I cannot well say which.) This Duke Rignon was of Kin to Ragotin, who having made himself known to the Miller and his Wife, was tended with a great deal of care, and his body dressed with a happy success, till he was perfectly recovered by a Chirurgeon of the Neighbouring Town. As soon as he was able to walk, he returne● to Manse, where his joy for Rancour and Olive having found his Mule, and brought it home wi●● them, swallowed up the grief and remembrance 〈◊〉 his fall out of the Cart, the Coachman's whipping the biting of the Mastiff, and the stinging of th● Bees.   

CHAP. XVII.  
The Passages between the Sma● Ragotin, and the Great Baguenodiere.  
DEstiny and Star, Leander and Angelica, tw● Brace of fair and perfect Lovers, arrived a● the Capital City of Maine, without any misfortune in the way. Destiny reinstated Angelica i● her Mother's favour, to whom he had given s● plausible an account and Character of Leander Amours and condition, that the good natured Mrs Cave, began to approve the passion the young man and her Daughter had for one another, a● much as she had before opposed it. The poo● company had not yet done their business in th● City of Manse, but a man of Quality that love● Plays extremely, supplied the covetous humour of the Citizens; The greatest part of his Estate lying in Maine; he had taken a house in Manse, which drew oftentimes many persons of worth thither who were of his acquaintance or relation, as well Courtiers, as Country Gentlemen, and not seldom some of the great Wits of Paris, amongst whom were found some Poets of the greatest credit, he being indeed a kind of a modern Maecenas. He delighted in Comedies most passionately, and all those that had any hand in them, and this was it that invited the best Comedians once a year to make a journey to the chief City of Maine. This Nobleman that I am speaking of ●ame to Manse, at the same time that our poor Comedians were resolving to go from thence, being little satisfied with the Mansean audience; He entreated them to abide there a fortnight longer for his sake, and to oblige them the more willingly; bestowed a hundred Pistols amongst them, promising them as much more at their departure: He was willing to give the Divertisements of their Comedies to divers persons of Quality of either Sex, who flocked thither about the same time, and were by him persuaded to make a short stay there. This Nobleman whom I shall call the Marquis D'orsé, was a great Hunter, and had brought all his Hunting Equipage to Manse which was as complete as any man's in France. The Downs and Forests of the County of Maine, make it one of the best places for those Sports in all the Kingdom, either for Deer or Hare, and it being now the season for those Games, the City of Manse was full of Huntsmen, which the approaching Festival had drawn thither, most 〈◊〉 them with their Wives, who were ravished to s● the Court Ladies, that they might have something to tattle of for ever after by their Fire-sides. 〈◊〉 is not the least ambition the Country is guilty o● to be able to relate sometimes and brag, how the● have at such a time, and such and such a place, see such and such Courtiers, whose name they nakedly repeat and mention without any addition o● Title, as for example; I lost my money against Roquelaure, Crequi won so much, Coaqui● hunts the Stagg in Tourain; and if one lets the● sometimes broach a Discourse of Policy or War they never stop or unspeak (if I may term it so) till they have drawn all their little wit or understanding dry, but run a tilt as long as they are able. But let us end the digression. Mans● was thus replenished with Nobility both great and small; The Inns were full of Guests, and mos● part of the chief Citizens, who admitted the Courtiers or Country Gentry to lodge in their Houses, had in a short time fouled all their fine Sheets, and Damask Napkins and Table . The Stage Players opened their Theatre, resolving to act passing well, as having received their money before hand. The Citizens of Manse grew hot again for the sport, The Town Ladies were over joyed to behold all the Court Madams, by whose example they learned how to trick themselves better and more a la mode than they were wont, to the great benefit of their Tailors, who undertook to reform many an old fashion Gown. They had a Ball every night, where some most wretched Dancers, danced as pitiful Courantoes, and where many a young Citizen danced in Canvas or Holland Drawers, with waxed pumps. Our Comedians were often entreated to act at private Meetings. Star and Angelica bred love in the men, and envy in the women. Jnezilla who danced the Saraband at the entreaty of the Players, was admired; Roquebrune thought he should have burst with a repletion of love, so much did his affection swell on a sudden; and Ragotin confessed to Rancour, that if he did not quickly bring him in favour with Star, France would soon be without a Ragotin. Rancour gave him good hopes, and as a testimony of the particular esteem he had for him, prayed him to lend him twenty or thirty Franks in silver. Ragotin looked pale at this uncivil request; repent of what he had said to him, and was about to renounce his affection. But in the end, mad with desire, he made up the sum in several sorts of Coin, which he fished out of several little Purses, and very unwillingly gave it to Rancour, who engaged that within four and twenty hours after, he should hear himself spoken of: That same day they acted Don Japhet, a Stage Play as merry, as he that made it hath cause to be sad. The Audience was numerous; the Piece well acted, and all the world very well satisfied, excepting only the disastrous Ragotin. He came late into the Playhouse, and for punishment of his sin, placed himself just behind a Country Gentleman, one of the largest size, who had a thick Coat about him, which added very much to his overgrown bulk; Besides his spreading Haunches, Chine, and Shoulders, he was of stature so much taller than the tallest men; that although he sat down, yet Ragotin, who was but one rank distant, thought he stood on tiptoe, and therefore cried out eternally to him, that he should sit down as the rest did, not believing but a man that sat on the same seat would be of the same height as other heads were. This Gentleman whose name was la Baguenodiere, was ignorant a long time, that Ragotin spoke to him. In fine, Rogotin calling him Mounsieur Green Feather, he having indeed a very flaunting one, very much faded and not very fine, he turned his head about, and saw the little Impatient, who somewhat roughly bid him sit down; lafoy Baguenodiere was so little moved, that he turned his face again towards the Stage, as if nothing had passed: Ragotin re●cryed again that he should sit down. He turned his head again towards him, looked on him, and returned it again towards the Theatre: Ragotin re-cryed; Baguenodiere turned back his head the third time, the third time looked upon the little Spit-fire, and turned himself again towards the stage; As long as the Play lasted Ragotin cried out in the same tone, that he should sit down, and la Baguenodiere looked upon him with the same unconcern, which was capable to have made the whole world mad; one might justly have compared lafoy Baguenodiere to a huge Mastiff, and Ragotin to a little shock that runs barking after him, while the great Dog takes no other notice, but only lifts up his leg and Pisses against a wall; at length the whole company began to take notice of what passed betwixt the biggest and the least men amongst them, and every one presumed to smile at it, just when Ragotin began to rave and swear through impatience, while la Baguenodiere did no more than cast a cold indifferent glance upon him. This Baguenodiere was the greatest man, & the greatest brutal in the world: he demanded, with his former Gravity, of two Gentlemen that were by him, what they laughed at; they told him ingeniously that it was at him and Ragotin; and, indeed as they had reason, thought rather to congratulate then displease him with this answer: However it digusted him, and You are very worthy So●s, which la Baguenodiere with a frowning countenance cast in their teeth a little out of season, made them understand that he took it ill, and obliged each of them to return him a good cuff on the ear in requital; lafoy Baguenodiere, could do nothing else at first, but thrust them with his Elbows on either side, his hands being folded in his Coat, and before he got them out, the Gentlemen who were Brothers, and naturally very active, had time to deal him half a dozen good cuffs more, which they happened to deliver in such an equal measure of time, that such as heard the sound without seeing the blows given, thought verily it had been some body had clapped their hands smartly together at equal intervals. In the end Baguenodiere got his hands at liberty; but being clossely pressed upon by the two Brothers, who flew upon him like Lions, his long arms could not move at will; He would have gone back a little, and so sell upon a man that was behind him, and tumbled both him and his seat down upon the unfortunate Ragotin, who was thrown down upon another; which threw him down backwards upon another, who was in like manner thrown down upon another, and so onwards to the last man that sat behind, as far as the seats extended, they lying like a file of Ninepins newly tipped by a skilful Gamester. The noise of the tumblers; of the crushed Ladies; of those that were affrighted; of crying Children; of babbling women; of those that laughed; of those that lamented; and of those that hissed and clapped their hands, made a hellish din: Never did so small a subject occasion such great accidents, and that which was most wonderful, was that there happened not to be one drawn sword, though the chief scuffle began amongst such as wore them, there being at least a hundred more in the company: But that which increased the wonder was, that Baguenodiere should cuff and be cuffed, without being any more moved than if it had been the most indifferent thing in nature; it having been further observed, that he had not once so much as opened his mouth all that afternoon, excepting only when he uttered those three or four unhandsome words, which brought down such a storm of cuffs about his ears, nor did he afterwards add one more all that night; so well was this man's phlegm and taciturnity proportioned to his Giantlike bulk. This hideous Chaos of so many persons and seats huddled upon one another, was a long time putting into order again; whilst they were busied about it, and some charitable Citizens thrusting themselves betwixt Baguenodiere and his two Antagonists, a fearful howling voice was heard as it were underground; Who could this be but Ragotin? Truly when Fortune hath once begun to persecute a poor wretch, she continues her persecution still. This unhappy little imps seat was placed just upon a board that covered the sink belonging to the Tennis-Court; which sink is commonly in the very midst just under the line; It was an ordinary receptacle, for the rain-water and such other filth as they threw away, and had a lid that kept it close; but as time consumes all things, so had that rotten the boards very much, and broke with his sitting just upon it, who dropped no sooner in, but another man of a reasonable weight fell upon his head, and at his fall slipped one leg into the same hole, where the poor Ragotins' whole body lay. This leg was booted, and the spur pricked Ragotin in the throat, which made him yell so furiously that no body could imagine what it might be; a slander by gave this man his hand to lift him up, and when his leg had shifted its first place and posture, Ragotin bitten him by the Foot so smartly, that the other thought sure he had been stung by a Serpent, and gave a shriek that startled the fellow so much who was helping him, that he let him go for fear: he In fine, recovered his spirits again; and lent his hand once more to the man, who left off bawling, because Ragotin left of biting, and both these together unearthed the little one, who no sooner beheld the light, but threatening the whole world with his nods and looks, and principally such as he perceived did laugh at him, he thrust himself into the crowd that was going out; plotting something that should prove as honourable to him, as dangerous for Baguenodiere; I never knew how la Baguenodiere and the two Brothers were agreed, however it was brought about, at lest I never heard that they ever did assault each other afterwards: And this was it that disturbed the first Play our Comedians acted before the Illustrious Company that was then assembled in the City of Manse.   

CHAP. XVIII.  
Which needs no Title.  
THE next day they represented the Nicomede of the incomparable Mounsieur de Corneille: an admirable Comedy in my judgement, and the Piece that hath the most of the Authors own in it, and shows the height and fecundity of his Genius more than any other, giving all his Actors confident stout Characters, all differing the one from the others. They were not disturbed while it was acting, which perhaps happened to be so quiet because Ragotin was that day absent; Hardly one day passed wherein he did not meet with some broil, to which his peevish Pride, and his hasty Presumptuous Spirit contributed as much as his ill Fortune, who till then had never given him any Quarter. The little fellow had spent the afternoon in Inezilla's Husband's Chamber, the Operator Ferdinando Ferdinandi; a Norman, calling himself a Venetian, as I have told you already; a Spagyric Physician by profession, and to speak frankly, a great Mountebank, and yet a greater Cheat. Rancour to free himself a while from the incessant importunity of Ragotin, to whom he had engaged himself to make Madam Star love him, had made him believe the Operator was a great Magician, that could compel the wisest Woman to run in her smock only after any man he pleased: but withal, that he did not make any trial of this Art but for some choice friends, whose discretion he was acquainted with; because he had suffered some inconvenience by putting it in practice for some of the greatest Lords in Europe: He counselled Ragotin to do his utmost endeavour to gain his Friendship; which he told him would prove no great difficulty, the Operator being a man of Wit and Parts, easily induced to esteem all those that were so qualified, and where he once took an affection, he kept nothing hid from them. We need do no more but praise or respect a man of a proud Spirit to obtain what we covet from him; But it is otherwise with the meek, they are not easily overruled, and experience teaches us, that an humble mind having so much power over itself as to be thankful to such as have refused them, attains their ends much sooner then one that is offended at every denial. Rancour persuaded Ragotin to what he pleased, and Ragotin at the same instant went and persuaded the Operator that he was a great Magician. I shall not stand to repeat all he said to him, its sufficient that the Operator, who was beforehand made acquainted of it by Rancour, acted his part so well, that he denied his being a Magician in such a manner as increased the others confidence of it: Ragotin stayed the whole Afternoon with him, who kept a Matress upon the fire for some Chemical Operation, and would own nothing affirmatively that day, which made the impatient Mansean pass over that night very uncomfortably. The next day he came to the Operators Chamber, who was yet in bed: Inezilla took it very ill; for she was not then so youthful as to come out of her bed as fresh as a Rose, but was every morning locked up some hours in private, before she could put herself into a condition to appear in public; She slipped therefore into her little Closet, and was followed by her little Blackamoor waiting Maid who carried in all her Amorous Ammunition, and in the mean while Ragotin began to talk to Signior Ferdinanai about his skill in Magic, and the said Ferdinandi began to be more open to him, ye● would not cercainly promise him any thing. Ragotin would needs give him some tokens of his largess; He caused a very handsome Dinner to be made ready, and invited the Players of both Sexed to it: I shall not give you any account of the particulars of the Feast; you must only take notice that they were extremely merry, and did feed very plentifully. After meal, Inezilla was entreated by Destiny, and the Actresses to relat● some little Spanish History to them, such as she composed or translated every day by the assistance of the Divine Roquebrune, who had sworn by Apollo and the Nine Muses▪ that in six Months he would teach her all the Graces and Perfections of the French Tongue; Inezilla did not stay for much entreating, but whilst Ragotin was courting the Magician Fernandi, she read the Novel in the following Chapter with a most charming Voice and accent.   

CHAP. XIX.  
The Rival Brothers.  
DOrothea, and Feliciana de Montsalva were the two most amiable Ladies in Sevil; but though they had not been such, their Fortunes and Quality were so considerable as to have tempted all those Gentlemen to Court them that had any desire to be advantageously matched. Don Manuel their Father had not yet openly declared himself in favour of any one in particular, and Dorothea who as being the Eldest, aught to have been first married, had as well as the other, managed her looks and actions so circumspectly, that the most confident of her pretenders had ●eason enough to doubt, whether, his amorous proffers were well or ill received: However ●hese fair Sisters never went to Mass, without a numeros crowd of Gallants at their heels. The● could no sooner come near the Holy-water, bu● many hands, some fair, some otherwise, we● ready to besprinkle them at the instant; The● could not lift their bright eyes from their Pray Books, but they became the centre of I know not how many amorous or lascivious glances; no could they make one step into the Church without repaying many salutations: But if the merit brought them somewhat of trouble th● in public and Sacred places, it had its reward likewise before the Windows of their Father house, where many appeared with such Dive●tisements, as rendered supportable that sever restraint, to which the Custom of that Countr● obliged their Sex: Hardly a Night passed b● they were regaled with Music, and in the da● time Tilt and running at the Ring were n● unfrequent, whereof they had a full Prospect the House facing a large Market place most 〈◊〉 for those Exercises. One day above the rest, Stranger begot the admiration of every Spectator by his Address above all the Cavaliers of th● City, and was observed to be a very comple● Gentleman by the two Sisters; divers people of Sevill, who had been acquainted with him Flandens, where he Commanded a Regiment Horse, invited him to run at the Ring wi●● them, which he performed in the Garb of Soldier; Some days after, there happened t● Ceremony of Consecrating a Bishop at Sev●● The stranger, who took the name of Don Sanc● de Sylva, appeared in the Church where this w●● done, together with the chiefest Gallants of the City, and the two beautiful Sisters came thither likewise with many other Ladies disguised after the Sevil mode, with Mantles of thick Stuff, and Hats with Plumes of Feathers in them. Don Sancho obeyed her, and drawing towards Dorothea de Montsalva, who stood nearer to him then her Sister; and had observed the passages betwixt him and that other Lady: I was in some hopes, said he to her, as being a stranger, that the Lady to whom I addressed my Speech, would not have refused my. Conversation; but she hath justly punished my confidence in thinking I was worthy of hers. I conjure you, pursued he, to show less Cruelty than she did towards a stranger who she so slights, and for the honour of the Sevillian Ladies give him more cause to proclaim their kindness and civility. You give me a just one to treat you with as much disdain as that other Lady, replied Dorothea, since your request is but directed to me after her refusal; but that you may have no ●eal occasion to complain of the Ladies of this Country, I consent to Discourse only with you, as long as this Ceremony lasts, that you may see 〈◊〉 have appointed no man to meet me at this Rendezvous: That is it which breeds my wonder, being of so excellent a shape, said Don Sancho to, her, and either all men have a respectful ●ear of you, or the Gallants of this City are but faint-hearted, unless the happy pesron whose place I now usurp, be absent from the Town; and do you think, said Dorothea, that I am so unskilful in the Art of love, that in the absence of my Gallant I could not have abstained from appearing in an Assembly, where I knew he must be wanting? Take heed another time of entertaining such unbecoming Opinions of those you are no more acquainted with; you should find, replies Don Sancho, that I cherish noble● thoughts of your fair self than you imagine, would you but let me serve you to that height of Adoration my inclination prompts me to. It is not always safe to follow our first motions said Dorothea to him, and besides there would many great difficulties be found in the pursuit of that you now propound. There can be none so great or hazardous but I would undertake and overcome to obtain the happiness of being yours, replies Don Sancho; 'Tis not a design that can be brought to perfection in a few days reparted Dorothea: you do not perhaps consider at present that you have only taken Sevil in your way, nor do you it may be know how unkindly I should take it to be only loved en passant; vouchsafe me, but what I beg, said he, and I do faithfully engage, that I will be your constant Votary in Sevil during my whole life. What you now proffer me, is brave and Courtly, replied Dorothea, and therefore I admire that a person endued with so much Gallantry, hath not before this made choice of some worthy Ladies, to express his wit and fancy to; Is i● that you esteem them not worth the trouble 'Tis rather because I doubt of my ability and power to complete a Conquest, said Don Sancho. Answer me precisely to what I shall now demand, added Dorothea, and let me positively know, which of all our Ladies you would the soon submit to, and be kept a constant. Prisoner in Sevil for; I have already declared, that you may fix me here for ever, if you will but give me liberty to put on the chains I shall willingly receive from your fair hands replied Don Sancho. You never yet saw me, said Dorothea; therefore pray name some person. I must acknowledge then, Madam, said he, since you impose it, that if the beauteous Dorothea de Montsalvo, had as great a stock of wit as I have found in yourself, I should esteem that man most highly Fortunate whose Services and merits she would but own and smile upon; There are many other Ladies in Sevil, that equal, nay surpass her, said Dorothea; but added she, have you heard that amongst the crowd of her Servants there is one whom she prefers much above the rest? Finding myself so much beneath her merits, said Don Sancho. I never busied my inquiry in the search of what you ask? And wherefore should not you deserve her as soon as the more confident, said she? Ladies are of such pretty and sometimes strange humours, added she, that oftentimes the first attempt of a new-comer, makes a happier progress than the long-continued services of such Gallants as are hourly at their feet. You have found our a very civil way to defeat and deny me yourself, said Don Sancho, by chis encouragement to love another, and I infer from hence, that the services of a new Idolater would never appear so considerable to you as to become prejudicial to any one that had been formerly engaged by you: Do not build your faith on that, replies Dorothea, but believe I am not so easily cajolled, as to take all you say for the effect of a new born passion, since your eyes never yet beheld my face; If there be only that wanting to perfect the Declaration of my love and make it authentic said Don Sancho, then do not hid yourself any longer from one that is already so much charmed by your wit. You would not be so taken with my face, replied Dorothea; ah I you cannot choose but be most lovely, reparted Don Sancho, since you so frankly deny that you are so, and I begin to give way to my doubts, that you have a design to rid me hence, either distasted with my too melancholy dull converse, or because every cornet of your heart is prepossessed with some more worthy guest; It were therefore unjust, the goodness you have expressed in giving me so favourable an audience, should make me trespass any longer, nor will I give you the least occasion to suspect that I had no other design, when I made you the faithful proffers of my life and freedom, but only to divert myself. To evince, said Dorothea, how unwilling I am that all this discourse should be lost in air and nothingness, I shall yet be glad not to part from you, till I am made acquainted who you are. It cannot be a crime then to obey you, Know then, incomparable unknown Lady, suid he, that I am called by the name of Sylva, which is my Mothers; that my Father is the Governor of Quitto in Peru; that I am come to Sevil by his order, and that I have spent most part of my life ●n Flanders, where I have by my service attained ●he highest commands in the Army, and a Commandery of St. James. This in a few words is what I truly am, and what I would be all my ●ife, rests only upon you to give me leave to de●are to yourself in some place less public than ●his is; That shall be as soon as I can possibly, replies Dorothea; in the mean while, not to trouble yourself to make any fuller discovery who I am, unless you will run the hazard of ne●er knowing me at all; be satisfied that I am a ●erson of Quality, and that my Face is such as heightens none. Don Sancho having humbly salted her, quitted the place, and increased the ●umber of a great many Gallants that were discoursing together. There are some sullen La●ies, such as are ever censuring the Conduct of others, and magnifying their own; who take ●pon themselves the Arbitration of what is good or evil, though one might take odds in a ●ager of their. Virtues, as a thing not clearly verified, who fancy that for a little brutish coy●oss; and pretended Religious squeamishness, ●hey may lay claim to a Supererogation in point of honour, though the wantonness of their brisk ●outh hath left more scandals, than ever their ●rabbed wrinkles will afford good examples: These mumping Madams I say, most commonly shortsighted in their own faults, and so sharp●ghted in others, will hereupon affirm, that Madam Dorothea was indiscreet and rash, no● only for having so suddenly shown such a willing forwardness to a person whom she only knew by sight; but likewise in suffering him t● plead love to her, and if any young Lady unde● their Jurisdiction had done the like, she should within one quarter of an hour have been sen● into the other world to expiate the crime. Bu● let these Novice Ladies learn from me, that every Country hath its particular customs, and though in France the Women and Maids, who have the liberty of walking any any where upon their parole, are, or should be offended at the least mention of love from so very a stranger; in Spain where they are confined like Nuns, they rake it not amiss that any one should declare his love for them, though he that should profess it had nothing in him that might deserve their love again. Nay, they do much more; for 'tis the Women most commonly that make the first overtures, and are first taken, because they are last seen by their Gallants, whom they have the opportunity to see daily in Churches, Walks, and from their Balcones and Jalousiers, or Latticed Windows. Dorothea made her Sister Feliciana acquainted with the conversation she had enjoyed with Don Sancho, and frankly confessed to her, that this stranger had gained more upon her good opinion, than all the Cavaliers of Sevil; and her Sister approved the design she had upon his liberty. The two fair Sisters moralised a long while upon the advantageous privileges which men have above Women, who seldom ever married any but such as their Parents chose for them, which many time happened contrary to their inclination, whereas men were at liberty to take only those that should most please their Fancies. For my own part, says Dorothea to her. Sister, I am very certain that love shall never be able to seduce me to any thing against my duty; but I am likewise fully resolved never to marry any man, that does not possess in his single person, all that I could expect in mankind, for I should much sooner choose to waste the rest of my life in a solitary Nunnery, then be linked in the uneasy yoke of Matrimony with a Husband I could no way affect. Feliciana told her Sister, that was her resolution too, and they confirmed each others opinion herein, with all the strongest Arguments their ingenuity could furnish them withal upon that Subject. Dorothea met with some difficulty in making good the promise she had: passed to Don Sancho of discovering herself to him, and shown her Sister the perplexity she was in; but Feliciana, who was happy in finding out inventions, put her Sister in mind of a Lady allied to them, and which was more an intimate friend of theirs, (for all of ones Kindred are not such) that would serve her faithfully and readily, in such a business as concerned her happiness: You know, says this good Sister, that Marina, who hath served us so many years, is married to a Chirurgeon that lives in a little house belonging to our Kinswoman, and joining to it, which two Houses have an Entry common to both; They are Situate in a by place, and though any one should observe our going to Visit that Kinswoman more frequently then formerly, they would have no suspicion of Don Sanchos repairing to the Surgeons; besides that, he may take the benefit of Night or a Disguise to avoid discovery. Whilst Dorothea with her Sister's help, was thus contriving the plot for this Amorous intrigue; preparing his Kinswoman to contribute her assistance, and giving her necessary. Instructions to Marina●, Don Sancho's thoughts were wholly busied about his unknown Lady; he could not determine whether she had made those promises of further discovery only to mock his forward hopes; beholding her every day, yet still concealed, either at Church or in her Window, receiving the Adorations of her Gallants, who were of his acquaintance, and the best friends Don Sancho had in Sevil: He was putting on his  one morning, pleasing himself with the thoughts of her, when word was brought that a Woman Veiled desired to speak with him, They caused her to come in, and he received this Ticket, which you are going to Read.  
Ticket.  
You had heard sooner from me, had it lain in my power; And if the great desire you had to see me be not vanished, be pleased at night to come to the Rand●zvous which this Messenger shall assign you, ●rom whence she shall Conduct you to a place where I ●hall expect you.  
You may better imagine, than I express his joy for this News; He embraced the Ambassadress very lovingly and presented her with a Gold chain, which after a little Ceremony she accepted; She appointed him a remote place, where he was to come without any Attendants, in the Evening, and so parted, leaving him the most satisfied and the most impatient man in the world; at length the night was come, he failed not to be at the place assigned, richly habited and perfumed, where his morning Ambassadress waited for him: He was Conducted by her into an ill-looked little house, and from thence into a very fair apartment, where he found three Ladies whose faces were veiled. He distinguished which was his Fair Unknown by her Stature, and immediately broke forth into complaints because she did not vouchsafe to unveil her; She made no great ado or fruitless Ceremonies but both she and her Sister discovered themselves to the most happy Don Sancho to be the beautiful Ladies de Montsalvo. You may now believe, said Dorothea, when she threw off her Veil, that I spoke but the truth, when I told you that a stranger might sometimes in an instant obtain more favour, than those Gallants whom we daily converse with can merit in some years, and you would show yourself the most ungrateful person alive, should you not reckon this a very high one, or misinterpret it to my disadvantage. I shall always value what I receive from you, as if it came from Heaven, said the passionate Don Sancho, and you may guests, by the care I shall take to merit the goodness you bestow upon me, that if I ever be so unfortunate as to forfeit your esteem, it shall be more my unhappiness then my crime.  

In short, they said, without control,  
All what such Lovers use to say  
When Love is Master of the Soul.   
The Mistress of the House and Feliciana knowing what was decent, had retired themselves to an honest distance from our pair of Lovers, and thus had they all the conveniency requisite to inflame each others mutual affection to a greater height then at the first meeting, though that was not indifferent, and appointed another season to augment it yet more if possible. Dorothea promised Don Sancho to do what lay in her power to meet him often he returned her thanks in the best language he could, the other two Gentlewomen joined in conversation with them for some while, till Marina put them in mind that it was time to part. Dorothea was sad at it; Don Sancho changed countenance, but it was necessary to bid adieu. The brave Gallant wrote the very next day to his fair Lady, who returned him an answer suitable to his wishes. I shall not relate the particulars of their Tickets, those amorous messages having never fallen into my hands; They often met together at the formerly mentioned place, and upon the same terms, and grew to such a fervency of affection, that abating the spilling their blood like Pyramus and Thisbe, they were not inferior to them in their violent tenderness. It is a saying, that Love, Fire, and Money cannot be long concealed. Dorothea who had nothing in her fancy but her Gallant stranger, could not speak meanly of him, but preferred him so infinitely above all other Gentlemen of Sevil, that some other Ladies whose concerns were managed with as much secrecy as hers, and who heard her talking eternally of Don Sancho, and praising him to their prejudice, took both notice and a pique at it. Feliciana had often warned her in private to speak more moderately, and a hundred times in Company, when she found her transported with the delight she took in her lavish Encomiums of his virtues, she trod upon her feet till she had almost crippled her; a Spark that was enamoured with Dorothea had notice given him of it by a Lady who was an intimate friend of his, and had no reason to doubt but sh● might love Don Sancho, because he found evidently that since the arrival of that stranger, he● other slaves, amongst whom he was the mo●● enchained, had never received the least favourable look or audience. This Rival was rich, of 〈◊〉 good Family, and not displeasing to Don Manuel, who nevertheless did not urge his daughter much to marry him, because when ever h● did but mention it in the least to her, she conjured him not let her marry so young. This Gallant (now I remember, his name was Don Diego) would needs be fully assured of what he rather yet suspected then could prove. He had one of those Valets de Chambre which they call Spruce fellows, who wear as good linen as their Masters, or rather, indeed, wear their Masters own linen, bringing up new fashions amongst inferior Servants, and being both esteemed and envied by the waiting women. This Vallet was called Gusman, who having a little Spice of Poetry, composed most of the Romances at Sevil, which are things we at Paris called Ballads; he sung them to his Guittar, but never would sing plain Song, because he could descant with divisions and quavering, the embroidery of his lips and tongue. He danced the Saraband likewise, never went without his Castagnets; would once have turned Comedian, and to make up the composition of his merit had something of the Hector; but to say truth, it was somewhat Padding or Pick-pockettish. All these rich Talents added to a little kind of Eloquence his Memory had furnished him withal from his Master's Table-talk, made him without control, become ●he blank of all the Servant Maids, (if I may so express it) as had the best Opinions of themselves. Don Diego charged him to cast an amorous glance upon Isabel a young Wench that waited on the beautiful Sisters the Montsalva; He obeyed his Master, Isabel observed it, and counted it a happiness to be beloved by Gusman, whom she in a short time loved again, as he indeed afterwards really affected her; though at first he only intended to make way for the accomplishent of that design his Master had on foot: As the love of Gusman was a thing very considerable and much coveted amongst the Servant Maids of that City, so was Isabella's Fortune as high as the most ambitious Valet de Chambre could expect to be lifted; She was very well beloved of her Mistresses, who were liberal towards her, and besides she expected a competent portion from her Father an honest Tradesman. Gusman therefore seriously intended to make her his Spouse, and she entertained him for a Husband; they plighted their troth mutually to each other, and lived together already as if they had been man and Wife. Isabel was much troubled to see that Marina the Surgeons Wife, at whose house Dorothea and Don Sancho kept their private Rendezvous, though she had been their Domestic Servant before her, should be her confident and privado in a business of that nature, wherein commonly a lover's largess is the oftenest expressed. She had discovered the gift of a Gold Chain which Do● Sancho had bestowed upon Marina; besides se●veral other bountiful Rewards, and imagine● there might be some she knew not of. Thi● made her hate her to the death, whence may b● inferred, that this good Lass was somewhat mercenary; Therefore it is no wonder if she a● her dear Gusmans' first entreaty to tell him truly whether her Mistress had not a private affection for some body, discovered part of that intrigue to him on whom she had bestowed her heart; She revealed the whole secret of our young Lovers to him, and discoursed not a little of Marina's good Frotune, who became daily more and more enriched by Don Sancho's liberality, and then proceeded to curse her, for thus robbing her of those profits which more duly belonged to her Household Servant. Gusman entreated her to give him exact notice of the time when Dorothea was to meet her Gallant, She did so, and he informed his Master of all that had been told him by the faithless Isabel▪ Don Diego shrouded in a Beggar's habit, took up his standing not far from Marina's door at the time appointed, saw his Rival go in, and a while after perceived a Coach make a stop at the same place wherein were the fair Sisters, who alighted and went into their Kinsmomans' house, which put Don Diego into such a Fit of madness as you may well imagine. He then resolved to rid himself of that potent Rival by removing him out of this world: hired certain bloody Villains, watched Don Sancho several Nights together, and at last met with him and set upon him ●ith the help of his other two Hector's all armed for such an enterprise; Don Sancho on the ●ther side was in a pretty good condition to de●●end himself; having besides his Sword and Dag●er a pair of excellent Pistols at his Girdle: He ●eceived their first assault with a Lion-like boldness; finding his enemies aimed at his Life, and ●●d Coats on that were Sword-proof. Don ●iego was more forward and desperate than the ●ther two, whose mercenary Valour would not ●ide their hire. At first he made good his re●●eat only till he had drawn them at a convenient distance from the House where his Dorothea ●as; but then fearing some prejudice might ●●ght on him, if he stood only on the defensive posture, and finding Don Diego press more hotly ●pon him, he lets fly one of his Pistols at him, ●nd laid him on the ground halfdead, crying out ●or a Priest very loud. The report of the Pistols put the two Bravoes to flight: Don Sancho ●etired to his Lodgings, the Neighbours came ●orth and found the wounded man gasping, who accused Don Sancho of his death. This he had notice of by some friends, who told him, that ●hough the Law should not lay hold on him, yet Don Diego's friends would never leave his death unrevenged, but endeavour to murder him where ever they could find him at an advantage. He therefore betook himself to a Monastery, from whence he sent the News to Dorothea, and ordered his affairs so, that he might be in readiness to leave Sevil as soon as opportun●●● proffered it with security. The Magistrate's 〈◊〉 the mean time used their diligence, seeking D●● Sancho every where, but could not meet hi● After the first heat of their inquiry was ove● and every one imagined he had made an escape Dorothea and her Sister upon a pretence of Devotion went with their Kinswoman to the Monastery, where Don Sancho had taken Sanctuary and there by the assistance of a Religious. F●ther of the Convent the two Lovers had meeting in the Chapel, made mutual promis● of a neverdying Faith and constancy, and pa●ted with so much sorrow, saying such mournf● things, that her Sister the Priest and Kinswoman could not refrain from tears; which afterward turned to sighs at every fresh remembrance that interview; He left Sevil in a disguise, le●●ving several Letters with his Factor before h● going to be sent to the Indies to his Father. B●● those Letters he hinted to him the reason's tha● obliged him to leave that City, and withdraw himself to Naples: He arrived there very happily, and was very welcome to the Viceroy t● whom he had the honour to belong; Bu● though he had several Favours crowded upo● him, yet he grew weary of Naples within the revolution of one year, having never had any News of Dorothea. The Viceroy Equipped six Galleys which he dispatched away to scour● those Coasts of the Turkish Pirates; Don Sancho's courage prompted him not to neglect so fair an occasion to show itself, so that that the Admiral accepted of his company with much gladness, lodged him in his own , overeyed to have a person of his Parts and Quality ●n his Vessel. These six Neapolitan Galleys ●et with eight Turkish ones almost within sight ●f Messina, and instantly engaged them. After ●ong Fight the Christians took three Enemy's Galleys, and sunk two more. The Admiral of ●●e Neapolitans was grappled with the Turkish admiral, which being better manned then the ●est, made greater resistance; The Sea in the ●ean time grew somewhat rugged, and that ●orm increased so fiercely, that at last both Turks and Christians had more reason to mind ●heir own safety, than each others ruin; wherefore they jointly withdrew their grappling irons, and so got a good distance from ●ach other at that time; when the too forward Don Sancho had boarded the Enemy, not seconded by any other, when he perceived himself ●n his Enemy's Clutches, he preferred Death be●ore Slavery, and never minding the evident ●anger, cast himself into the Sea, hoping, as trusting to his excellent swimming that he might ●each the Christian Galleys again; but the ●ough waves kept him from their sight, although ●is Admiral being an eye-witness of the action, ●nd despairing of his safety, tacked about, and made all the haste he possibly could towards the place where he leaped in. Don Sancho all the while bore up to Land-ward, cutting the waves with his skilful arms, and swimming along both with the Wide and Tide, finding to his great comfort a plank which had been torn out of Turkish Galley by a great shot, which happily was sent him by his good Angel to relieve hi● in this most sad condition. The place they fir●● engaged in, was not at farthest above a League and a half distant from the Coast of Sicily, wher● Don Sancho got a shore sooner and safer than h● expected, being very much favoured by th● Wind and Tide; He set foot an shore without any prejudice at his Landing, and after he ha● paid his thanks to Heaven for his preservation in so eminent danger, he walked forward a long as his wearied Limbs would carry him and from a little Hill perceived a Neighbouring Hamlet inhabited by Fishermen, whom h● found the most charitable people living. Th● extraordinary weariness he contracted first in the Fight, and afterwards in the Sea, together with the coldness of the water and his we●  cast him into a violent Fever, which confined him for a long time to his bed; but a● length he was freed from it, without any other Physic then a sober Diet. During his malady, he designed to leave the world in their false opinion of his death, thereby to abate the malice of Don Diego's Friends, and to make trial of his Dorothea's Faith. He had during his abode in Flanders laid the Foundation of a noble Friendship with a Sicilian Marquis of the Family of Montalto, whose name was Fabio; He gave instructions to one of the Fishermen to make inquiry whether he were at Missing where he knew his abode was, and being informed that he was there, he went to him in a Fisherman's habit, and entered the Marquis' House ●t Night, who had wept as much as any other ●hat unfortunate end he was supposed to have ●ade. The Marquis was over joyed to find ●hat Friend again, whom he had given over for ●ost. Don Sancho related to him the manner ●ow he had saved himself, and also told him his adventure of Sevil, not omitting the violent ●assion he cherished for Dorothea. The Sicilian Marquis proffered to go along with him into Spain, and to bring away Dorothea into Sicily, if ●he would give consent; But Don Sancho would ●ot accept of such dangerous demonstrations of ●is Friendship, but was infinitely pleased that ●e would bear him company into Spain: Sauch●z▪ Don Sancho's Servant, was so afflicted for the loss of his Master, that when the Neapolitan Galleys were come to refresh their men at Sicily, he got ●nto a Monastery where he resolved to spend the remnant of his days. The Marquis Fabio at whose request he was taken into the Monastery, sent to the Superior to dismiss him again, which was readily granted because he had not entered into their habit or order, Sanchez was ecstasied with joy when he again beheld his lamented Master, and forgot all thought of returning to that Solitary place again. Don Sancho sent him into Spain to make way for his Projects, and to send him tidings of his Dorothea, who was like others possessed with the belief of his death. The report went even to the Indies, which caused his Father to expire with the regret, leaving four hundred thousa●● Crowns to a second Son, but upon condition th●● he should restore him the one moiety, in ca●● that relation proved false. Don Sancho's Br●ther was named Don Juan de Peralta, the san●● with his Fathers; He took Shipping for Spa●● with all his wealth, and arrived at Sevil a yea● after this accident befell Don Sancho. Having a distinct name from the other. it was easy fo● him to conceal they were Brothers, which muc●● concerned him to keep it secret, being oblige● to reside a long time in that City where his Brother had left so many enemies; He happened t● have a sight of the fair Dorothea, and become enamoured like his Brother, but could not obstain the same return of love. This fair afflicted Lady finding nothing on earth worthy he● true affection, having lost her dear Sancho 〈◊〉 whatever Don Juan de Peralta could propound in Courtship, did but importune her, and she daily repeated her resolute denials to the best Matches that could be mentioned by her Father. About this time Sanchez came to Sevil, and observing his Master's Instructions, informed himself of Dorothea's behaviour; He was confirm●ed by the general report of all men, that a very wealthy person lately came from the Indies, was deeply in love with her, and omitted nothing that might express his Bravery and affection: He gave intelligence of it by Letters to his Master, but made the story much worse than it was told him, and his Master imagined it to be yet worse than he related. The Marquis Fabio and Don Sancho shipped themselves at Messina in some Vessels that were re●rning to Spain, who prosperously landed at 〈◊〉. Lucre's, whence they road Post to Sevil. ●hey went into the City after Sun set, and took 〈◊〉 their Quarters at the House which Sanchez ●red for them: They kept within doors all the ●ext day, and at Night Don Sancho and the Marquis Fabio together, walked the rounds of that ●●art of the City where Don Manuel dwelled; ●hey heard some tuning of Instruments under Dorothea's Windows, which was seconded with ●ost excellent Music; after which a single Voice married in Consort with a Theorbo, uttered several complaints against the cruelty of a ●ygress in an Angel's shape. Don Sancho was almost tempted to have made an assault upon ●hese Gentlemen that gave the Serenade; but ●he Marquis Fabio withheld him, representing ●o him that he could have done no more had Dorothea appeared at her Balcone, and obliged his Rival, or had those Songs been so many returns of thanks for favours bestowed, whereas they were but the revile of some disdained Lovers, rather despairing then expecting to attain his ambitious hopes. The Serenade withdrew not a little dissatisfied, and the Marquis Fabio and Don Sancho withdrew likewise. In the interim Dorothea began to find herself earnestly importuned by the Amorous Indian Gallant. Her Father Don Mannuel had an extreme desire to see her married, and she was confident that if this Indian Don Juan de Peralta being rich and of a good Family, should proffer himself 〈◊〉 be his Son-in law, he would be preferred befo●● any other, and she be more hotly urged by 〈◊〉 Father then heretofore; The day after the ●●●●renade, Dorothea was privately discoursing of 〈◊〉 with her Sister, telling her she could no long● endure the Indians Courtship; and wondering he had the confidence to act so publicly befo●● ever he had acquainted her Father with his pu●●poses. I never approved such things, said Fe●●●cia●a, and were I in your place, the first oppo●●tunity should make him see the vanity of tho●● hopes he hath to please you. For my part 〈◊〉 could never have the least good opinion of him pursued she; he hath not that brave meen'nor ai● of Grandeur, which is only found amongs●● Courtiers, and all the vast expense he makes here, is empty of politeness; every thing he does betrays a kind of Rusticity. She endeavoured afterwards to make an unbecoming Character of Don Juan de Peralta, not minding that at his first appearance in Sevil, she had confessed to her Sister that she could like him well enough; and every time there was occasion to mention him, she had been lavish in her praises of him. Dorothea observing this true or feigned change of humour in her Sister concerning this Spark, suspected she might have as great a secret inclination for him, as this pretended aversion amounted to; and to discover it more fully, she told her that she was not offended at Don Juans Courtship, out of any dislike towards his person, but on the contrary finding some little resemblance of Don Sancho in his countenance, she could sooner have been tempted by him, than any other Gallant in Sevil; besides that, knowing him to be both Wealthy and well Descended, she doubted not but her Father would soon have given his assent: But, added she, nothing can win my heart, since I have lost Don Sancho's, and fate having ordained that I shall never be his Wife, I never will be any others; but am resolved to linger out the remainder of my days in a Nunnery; Though you did not really intent to put this design in practice, says Feliciana, yet the very mentioning of it to me is the greatest affliction in the world: Never place it among your doubts, replies Dorothea; you shall be shortly the most considerable Fortune in Sevil, and this alone made me desire to speak with Don Juan, that I might endeavour to persuade him to look upon you with the same affection he intended me; after I had undeceived him of any hopes for him ever to gain any thing from me: But since, I perceive your aversion is as great as mine, I shall only entreat him to cease further troubling both himself and m●, by his further pursuits. And truly, added she, it does not a little displease me, for I do not know any man that were more worthy your choice for a Husband; He is rather indifferent then hateful to me, says Feliciana, and when I told you how little I valued him, know that it was more out of a compliance to your humour, than any real aversion in mine. Confess rather my dearest Sister, answered Dorothea, that you deal not ingenuously with me, and when you spoke so slightly of him, you presumed I had forgot how often you had formerly applauded him; unless it were your fear made you suspect I should discover how much you truly esteemed him. These last words raised a blush in Feliciana's Cheeks, and put her out of Countenance; She pleaded, but with a discomposed mind, several things in her own defence, but with so little reason, that what she said served rather to confirm her Sister's accusation; and finding herself at last past all reteat, she owned the love her Sister so rightly guessed she had for Don Juan. The same day Isabel, who had broken off all converse with her Gusman, ever since the fatal accident happened to Don Sancho, received a Command from Dorothea to seek out Don Juan; and to leave the Key of Don Manuels Garden with him, entreating him to come about midnight to that place where Dorothea and her Sister would both wait on him as soon as their old Father were in bed. Isabel, who had been greased in the fist by Don Juan; and had endeavoured her utmost to gain some respect from her Mistress towards him, though it had hitherto proved but labour in vain, was infinitely surprised to find this sudden change, and overjoyed to find this opportunity of carrying him so happy tidings; She flew to his Lodgings with all the haste imaginable, where what she told him was so much above his dying hopes, that nothing but the Key could have begot his belief of it, which she deposited in his hands; and that she might not go away with her own empty, he gave her a little perfumed Leather Purse, wherein were fifty Pistols in Gold, which filled her heart with as much joy at least, as she had done his. Fortune decreed it so, that the very same night Don Juan was to meet them in the Garden, Don Sancho accompanied by the Marquis, went their rounds again about the fair Lady's house, to discover yet more particularly his Rivals designs. The Marquis and he were at Eleven a Clock in the Street where Dorothea dwelled, and four well Armed men took up their stand near them: The jealous lover believed it was his Rival, He came up to those fellows, and told them the Post they had taken up was very convenient for himself towards a design he had in hand, and therefore entreated they would resign it to him; We should in civility grant your request, said they, were not the same place absolutely necessary to a design we are likewise concerned in, and this will be so suddenly done, that it cannot retard the execution of yours so long as is worth mentioning. This raised Don Sancho's anger to the highest pitch; so that to draw his weapon, and set upon these rude fellows was but one act: The unexpected assault surprised them, and put them into disorder, which being seconded by a new attaque from the Marquis, they could not well defend themselves, but were driven with as much haste on their side, as good speed on the others to the streets end, There Don Sancho received a slight wound in his arm, and ran him thorough the body that gave it him in such a manner, that he was a long while drawing his sword out again, believing he had killed him. The Marquis in the mean time was obstinately pursuing the rest who fled with all the speed they could make before him as soon as ever they saw their Compagnons' fall. At the other end of the street Don Sancho espied some people with a light who came out at the noise they had made; He was afraid it might be some Officer of Justice, and it proved so: He retreated into the street where the fight first began; and from thence into another, where in the midst of it he met hand to hand with an ancient Gentleman that had a light, and his Sword drawn upon the noise Don Sancho made with his running towards him. This was old Don Manuel, who came from gaming at a Neighbour's house, as he usually did every night, and was going in at his Garden-door not far from the place were he met Don Sancho; He asked our Cavalier, who goes there? A man, replied Don Sancho, whom it concerns to be gone quickly unless you stop him: Perhaps, said Don Manuel, some accident hath befallen you, which may oblige you to seek a place of Sanctuary; and if so, my house being near at hand may do you service; It is true indeed, replied Don Sancho, I am endeavouring to secure myself from the Justice's hands, who I doubt are following me, and since you are so generous as to proffer your house to a stranger, he puts the confidence of his safeguard in your hands, promising never to forget the favour, not trouble you any longer with his presence, then till they are passed that possibly hunt for him. Don Manuel at this opened the Garden-door with a Key he carried about him, and having caused Don Sancho to go into the Garden, led him into an Arbour of Laurels; whilst he went to take a better order about his concealment in the house without any one's knowledge: Don Sancho had not been long in the Arbour when he saw a Woman coming towards him, who said, follow me Sir, my Mistress Dorothea stays for you. These words made him guests he might be in his Mistress' Garden, and the old Gentleman might be her Father; He suspected Dorothea had assigned his Rival to come to the same place, and followed Isabel, more tormented with jealousy then fear of the Justice; In the interim, Don Juan, came at the appointed time, opened the Garden-door with the Key Isabel left him, and went to the same Arbour, which Don Sancho had newly forsaken; A moment after he spies a man come to him, puts himself into a defensive posture in case he were assaulted, and wondered when he perceived it to be Don Manuel, who bid him go along with him, and he would secure him in a private Room where no body should find him; Don Juan conjectured by his words, that he might have taken one into the Garden that was pursued. He could do no less as Affairs than stood, but follow him, giving him many thanks for so great a Charity; and it may justly be believed he was no less troubled at the danger he was in, then vexed at this obstacle which crossed his amorous design Don Manuel led him to his own Chamber, and left him there, to get a bed made ready for himself in some other: leave we him in the perplexity he needs must find himself, and let us follow his Brother Don Sancho de Sylva; Isabel Conducts him to a lower Chamber which looked towards the Garden, where Dorothea and Feliciana expected Don Juan de Peralta, the one as a lover who desired to gain his favour, the other with a resolution to tell him truly she could not love him; and therefore it were better he should make his Addresses to her Sister. Don Sancho entered the Room where the fair Sisters were, who were infinitely surprised to behold him; Dorothea stood Speechless, as if death had ceased on her, and had not her Sister held her up and placed her in a Chair, she had sunk on the floor; Don Sancho became , Isabel was almost frighted out of her wits; and thought the dead Don Sancho's Ghost appeared to be revenged of the wrong his Mistress did him: Feliciana though very much terrified to see Don Sancho risen from the Grave again, was yet more troubled at her Sister's condition, who at length came to herself, and then Don Sancho spoke to her in this manner. If the the Fame of my death, ingrateful Dorothea! did not in part excuse your inconstancy, the despair it puts me into would not allow me so much life as to chide you for it; I was willing to keep the world in the false opinion of my death, that I might be neglected and forgotten by my Enemies, but not by you who had engaged your Soul to love no other but myself, which promise you so soon have broken; I could revenge the injury at full by making so much noise as should soon draw your Father hither, and discover the person you have invited to your Chamber at this season, but Fool that I am, I dare not yet displease you, being more afflicted that I must love you no more then at your having bestowed your heart elsewhere. Enjoy fair faithless Lady! Enjoy your love! Fear no disturbance in your Newborn passion; I shall soon free you from the person who might for ever reproach your treachery towards him, even when he exposed his own life to wait on you. Don Sancho would have withdrawn himself after he had said this, but Dorothea stopped him, and was about to justify herself, when Isabel came in haste and told her Don Manuel was coming: Don Sancho had only time to step behind the door; the old Gentleman was angry with his Daughters for being so late up, and whilst his back was towards the door Don Sancho stole softly out, and got into the same Arbour where he had been at his first coming in, preparing himself against any sudden attempt, and expecting a fair opportunity to be gone; Don Manuel went into his Daughter's Chamber for a light to let in the Officers of Justice then knocking at the same Garden-door, as having been informed that Don Manuel had let in a man; that probably was one of those engaged in the Scuffle: Don Manuel made no difficulty to open to them that they might search his house, thinking the party was locked up in his own Chamber, which they would never suspect; Don Sancho seeing he could not avoid them, came forth of the Laurel Arbour, and stepping to Don Manuel who was much amazed to see him, told him in his ear, that a person of Honour was always as good as his word, and never forsook those he had once taken into his protection. Don Manuel entreated the Provost who was his Friend, to leave Don Sancho in his custody: which was easily assented to; both in respect to his Quality, and because the others wounds were not dangerous; The Officers of the Justice withdrew, and Don Manuel being confirmed by the repetition of the same words he had spoken to Don Sancho when he first met with him, that it was he whom he had taken into his Protection, no longer doubted but the other was some Gallant brought thither either by his Daughters or Isabel. To discover which truth he caused Don Sancho to go into a Chamber apart, desiring him to remain there till he returned; He went into the other Room where he had left Don Juan de Peralto, a Servant of his was come along with the Officers, and demanded to speak with him; Don Juan knew well enough his Valet de Chambre was very sick, and not in a condition to make inquiry after him; besides that, he durst not have done so without his order, though he had known where he was, which he could not: He was therefore hugely troubled at Don Manuels words, to whom he said at Random. That his man might return and attend him at his Lodging. Don Manuel then discovered that it was the young Indian Gentleman that had made such a noise in Sevil, and being well acquainted with his Wealth and Quality, resolved not to let him stir out of his house till he had married that Daughter of his whom he could best fancy; He discoursed some time with him to pump out ●hose mysteries which held him yet in suspense. ●sabella saw them talking together from the o●her door, and told her Mistress of it. Don Ma●uel perceived Isabel and imagined she was coming with some message to Don Juan from his Daughter; He left him to run after her just as ●he light that was in the Chamber was burnt ●ut, whilst he was groping for Isabel, whom ●e could not meet with, this Wench tells Doro●hea and Feliciana that Don Sancho was in their Father's Chamber, and that she had seen and ●eard them talking together. The two Sisters ●an thither upon this assurance; Dorothea was ●ot afraid to meet Don Sancho with her Father. ●eing resolved to confess how much she loved ●im, and had been beloved by him, and withal ●o inform him to what intent she had invited Don Juan thither, she came therefore into the Chamber which was dark, just at the same in●ant that Don Juan was stealing out, and meeting him, she took him for Don Sancho, held him ●y the arm, and spoke thus to him: Why dost ●hou fly form me, cruel Don Sancho? and why ●ouldst thou not give ear to what I was abou●●o plead in Answer to those unjust reproaches ●hou hast laid to my charge? I must confess there would be cause enough, were I as guilty as thou hast in some sort reason to believe, but thou canst not but know there are some mistakes have more appearance of truth in them then truth itself which is ever best discovered by examination and length of time: allow me therefore so much as may unravel these false opinions, to which thy misfortunes, with my own, and possibly that of others likewise hath led us both; Help me to justify myself, and let not thy passion which hurries thee to condemn me provoke thee to give an unjust sentence, before a due conviction: Thou mayst have heard perhaps that a Gentleman loves me; but hast thou been convinced that I love him again? Thou mayst have seen him in this very house; for I shall own that I sent hither for him, but when thou knowest to what intent I did it, I am confident thou wilt condemn thy own rashness for having condemned me, since that very act will appear to be the greatest proof of my fidelity that I could ever give thee; wherefore is he not in presence, that Gentleman whose love importunes me, thou shouldst be judge thyself, by what I could say to him whether he can pretand he ever told me the story of his love, or whether I ever favoured him so much as to read one line of the many messages he hath sent me. But my unhappiness which ever brought him to me to my prejudice, does now keep him concealed, when he might help me to c●ear my faith so foully aspersed: Den Juan had so much patience as to hear all she could say without interruption, thereby to discover what till then was kept secret from him, at length he was perhaps going to contend with her, when Don Sancho who sought from Chamber to Chamber, the way into the Garden which he had miss, and hearing Dorothea's tongue while she talked to Don Juan, crept near her with the least noise he could, but yet was overheard by Don Juan and the two Sisters. At the same moment Don Manuel comes into the Chamber with a light brought by one of the Servants. The Rival Brothers stared upon each other with angry looks, both laying their hands upon their swords; Don Manuel stepped betwixt them, and cammanded his Daughter to choose one for her husband, that so he might know which to second. Don Juan, then told him, that his part he yielded up all his pretences if he had any, to the other Gentleman that was in presence: Don Sancho, said the same, adding that since Don Juan had been invited to Don Manuels by his Daughter, no doubt but she loved him, and he her, and therefore for his own part, he would rather suffer a thousands deaths then marry with the least scruple. Doro●hea fell down at her Father's feet, and conjured him to give her a hearing: Then related she to him all that passed betwixt her, and Don Sancho de Silua before he killed Don Diego for the love of her; she informed him how Don Juan de Peralta had afterwards wooed her, the design she had to let him know her aversion, and to propound the match between him and Feliciana, and so concluded that if she could not persuade Don Sancho to believe her innocency, she would the very next day fly to a Nunnery never to set her foot out out again. By this relation the two Brothers came to the knowledge of each other; Don Sancho was reconciled to Dorothea whom he demanded in marriage of Don Manuel Don Juan also begged Don Manuels' consent to let him have Felic●ana for his Wife, and Don Manuel accepted of them both for his Sons with so much satisfaction as is above expression; As soon as it was day, Don Sancho sent for his friend the Marquis Fabio, who came to participate of those joys: The business was kept secret till Don Manuel and the Marquis had persuaded a Kinsman of Don Dieg●'s and his Heir, to forget the occasion of his death, and lay aside his enmity against Don Sancho, during the negotiation, the Marquis became enamoured with that gallants Sister, and proffered a match with her; He gave his consent with great willingness, finding the proposition so much to his Sister's advantage, and then soon devested himself of all revengeful thoughts against Don Sancho. The three happy couple were linked together on the same day in the bonds of Matrimony, and every thing succeeded well for a long time afterwards, which ought to be considered.   

CHAP. XX.  
In what manner Ragotins' sleep came to be interrupted.  
THe agreeable Inezilla concluded the reading of her Novel, which made her Auditory sorry it was no longer, whilst she was divertising the company with this Lecture, Ragotin, who instead of giving his attention to it, was entertaining her husband about his Magical designs, fell asleep in a low Chair, as the Operator likewise did: Ragotins' sleep was not altogether wilful, for could he have resisted the many Vapours his plentiful Dinner sent up to his Brain, he would have given better ear to the pleasant Novel; He did not sleep therefore very sound, but sometimes started, and nodded to his very knees, as drowsy people do but too often at Church itself. There hapn d to be a ram bred up at the Inn, whom the rascally Boys that went up and down the streets & yard where it frequented, had used to make sport with, by putting both their hands upon his head and provoking him to run at them with his horns, which he would do with all his might, as those animals are naturally inclined; this beast had liberty to range over all the house at his pleasure, and came into the Chambers often times, where some delighted in feeding him: He was in the Operators at the time they were reading the Novel. He spied Ragotin, whose hat was fallen off from his crown, and who, as I before related, raised up and then let fall his head upon his lap. The Ram took him for some champion that thus defied him to try whose Scull was hardest; He retreated three or four paces backward like one that is going to take a great leap; and rushing forwards like a race horse, butted his head, armed with horns, most fiercely against poor Ragotin, which was quite bald on the crown. He had broken his brain-pain like an Earthen pitcher, no doubt, had not Ragotin most happily just raised it up at the instant he made his blow, which by this fortune only grazed along his face and battered the superficies of it. This accident did so surprise the Spectators, that they were put into a kind of ecstasy, their laughter only excepted; Insomch as the Ram who was taught to repeat this scurvy trick, had time enough to make a second course, which inconsiderately lighted betwixt his knees; at the time when Ragotin amazed with the blows, and his nose and battered face bleeding in many places, had lifted up his hands to rub his smarting eyes, which were both equally bruised with the Rams horns, they happening to grow just at the same distance from each other at his eyes. This second attaque, soon made him open them, and he no sooner discovered that enemy, but striking with his closed fist upon his head, he hurt his hand most grievously against his crest. This made him terrible mad, and that madness increased at the whole Companies laughter, which made him wrangle with all of them, and fling out of the room in a rage; he intended to have gone out of the Inn likewise, but mine Host stopped him for the reckoning, which was perhaps as unwelcome to him, as the battery of the Rams horns.  
FINIS.    

The Contents of the Second PART.  

CHap. 1. Which served but for an Introduction to the rest. pag. 1  
Chap. 2. Of the Boots. p. 5  
Chap. 3. The History of Mrs. Cave. p. 11  
Chap. 4. Destiny finds Leander. p. 26  
Chap. 5. Leander's History. p. 29  
Chap. 6. A Cuffing Combat: The death of mine Host; and other Remarkable things. p. 35  
Chap. 7. Ragotins' panic fear followed with disgrace. The Adventure of the dead Corpse; Another storm of Cuffing blows, and other Accidents worthy of a place and mention in this true History. p. 42  
Chap. 8. What became of Ragotins Foot. p. 53  
Chap. 9 Another Misfortune befalls Ragotin. p. 61  
Chap. 10. How Madam Bouvillon could not resist a Temptation, and got a knock on her forehead. p. 64  
Chap. 11. The least Divertising of the Volume. p 70  
Chap. 12. Which will perhaps be as little pleasing as the last. p. 78  
Chap. 13 An unhandsome Action of Mounsieur de la Rapiniere. p. 83  
Chap. 14. The Judge of his own Cause. p. 89  
Chap. 15. The Impudence of Mounsieur de la Rapiniere. p. 134  
Chap. 16. Ragotins' Misfortune. p. 138  
Chap. 17. The Passages between the Small Ragotin and the Great Baguenodiere. p. 150  
Chap. 18. Which needs no Title. p. 158  
Chap. 19 The Rival Brothers. p. 161  
Chap. 20. In what manner Ragotins' sleep came to be interrupted. p. 196   
FINIS.