LICENCED,  
Aug. 25. 1669. Roger L'Estrange.   

THE UNEXPECTED CHOICE, A NOVEL.  
BY Monsieur SCARRON.  
Rendered into English, with Addition and Advantage.  
By JOHN DAVIES of Kidwelly, Gent.  
LONDON, Printed for John Martin, at the Sign of the Bell without Temple-Bar, 1670.   

TO THE RIGHT WORSHIPFUL AND Most Accomplished, THOMAS STANLEY Esq  
IF we may credit the dictates of Venerable Astrology, we are to impute the happy or unhappy conduct of our Lives, to the benevolence, or malignancy, of those Aspects, which guide our Nativities. What Pieces of the most Comical, and most Burlesque Monsieur SCARRON have come forth in my Dress, I fell upon under your Roof, and they had their Birth, in English, under your Patronage, and accordingly proved fortunate in the World. But since, in the production of the least Effect, there is a general concurrence of all natural Causes, I am to attribute that success (besides the precedent Direction) to the just persuasions of the more ingenious, who voted something of more than ordinary excellency, in what they saw Dedicated to so precious a name as STANLEY.  
When the former NOVELS came first abroad, you were acting Lord Chancellor among the Ancient Philosophers, assigning the several Sects, their proper Sentiments and Opinions, and, in a Decree of Two large Volumes, deciding all the differences between them. But This (if I am rightly informed) will find you consulting the Oracles of our Municipal Laws, of which Study, since you have overcome the severity, I am only to wish you the Sweetness and Advantages.  
It were easy for me to apologise for the smallness of the Present I now make you, by alleging, that Books, like Essences, derive not their value from Quantity, but Virtues, and that a little Pill, or Cordial, prescribed by a HARVEY, or SCARBOROUGH, outvie, in esteem, all the voluminous Recipes of the ordinary Class of Physicians. But I would rather let the World know, by this Address, that your Kindnesses to me have begot this Familiarity; that they have excited in me a presumption of your Acceptance, though I waited on you with the Copy of a meaner Original; and that I am, notwithstanding this Confidence, with the greatest submissions and respects,  
Honoured Sir, Your most humble, and much obliged Servant, J. DAVIES.   

TO ALL INGENIOUS NOVELISTS.  
Gentlemen,  
PRefaces, Advertisements, and whatever else is preliminary to men's Works, seem to be certain Supererogations, whereby Authors would inveigle their Readers into a greater conceit thereof. The Motives to this Devotion I find to be different, suitably to the diversity of men's humours.  
Some, out of a generous inclination, unwilling to omit any thing of ceremony or compliment, when they court the public Eye, think it but requisite, by this means, to excite a kind of previous satisfaction, in those whom they would oblige to the perusal of their Labours. Others, through the contagion of Example, have heightened the Civility into an Obligation, and conceit it incumbent on them, to usher in their Discourses, with some commendatory account thereof, as if they would represent the pleasantness of a Country, by a Landscape of it. Others again do it, out of compliance with the clamorous desires of the Bookseller, who flatters himself with the hope of good success in his Adventure, upon the elaborateness of what is introductory to his Book.  
For my part, what I now do, in this kind, proceeds not strictly from any of these Motives. As for my Productions, they who know me, know also, that I have not been guilty of those profusions in point of advertisement, as might cajole many into a perusal of them, but have left them, without much preoccupant recommendation, to stand or fall by their own merit: And as to the Venders of them, 'tis only to be wished their Civilities had born some proportion to the Advantages they have made thereby.  
What then occasions the present Trouble? This; that I thought it convenient to give some account of this so late obstetrication of one Brother, so long after the first, second, and third Births, in the English Tongue, of seven others, and that within the space of seven years.  
Monsteur SCARRON, a person the most eminent of this last Age, for the humour of his writing, hath betrayed therein a certain Drollery, or (if I may so express it) Burlesquery of Wit, transcending all others who offered at any thing in that kind, and what made him the more remarkable, was, that he did it, amidst the perpetual torments of Chronical Diseases, Among others, he fell upon the subject of NOVELS, wherein he proved so fortunate, that had he written Conturies of them, divertive Inclinations would never have complained of a glut. Of this there cannot be a greater demonstration, than the kind entertainment they have met with in our Language.  
The first Three which came to my hands, and, by that means, into English, were communicated to me by a Lady, who died, young, the Lustre of her Age and Sex, Mrs. Catharine Philip's, published under the Titles of The FRUITLESS PRECAUTION, The HYPOCRITES, The INNOCENT ADULTERY.  
Afterwards, lighting on Monsieur SCARRON'S COMICAL ROMANCE (since ingeniously Englished by another Hand) I added the four others I found there; to wit, The INVISIBLE MISTRESS, The TRA-PANNER TREPANNED, The JUDGE in his own CAUSE, and, The CHASTISEMENT of AVARICE: which, put to the other Three, make up the Seven Elder Brothers, mentioned before. How this last, on which I have bestowed the Title of The UNEXPECTED CHOICE, came to lie dormant so long, I cannot tell; and only think it imputable to their precipitancy, who printing his Works, since his death, and not having it by them, put out what Collections they could hastily make, to get the start of others, whom they suspected to be engaged upon the same design. So that this last appeared not in any collected Edition of his Works, till that printed in the Year 1668. wherein I find it added to the three former, and so making up one Volume of the six, into which all his Works are now divided.  
Meeting with it thus, and thereupon reflecting how kindly the others had been redeived here (so as in few years to come to a third Impression, now sold by Thomas Basset, at the George in Fleetstree) I could do no less then supply the place of a transplanting Father to this, as I had done to the rest, and to send him abroad, like another Joseph, to see how his Brethren did, yet without any presumption of his attaining such Grandeur, as that his Elders should bow to him, and acknowledge his Supremacy.  
And observing withal, that there was not any thing more, of that kind, to be had of Monsieur Scarron's (at least according to that Collection of his Works) I have ventured to give it what Additions I could. Whence it comes, that in the Title, I affirm it to be Englished with much Addition and Advantage; which if any shall think much to credit, that is, are Sceptical as to my Sincerity; let them pursue their own satisfaction by consulting the Original.  
And thus have I acquitted myself, as to what I had to say of this late publication of the present Novel. But another complaint I have to make against the Posthumous Editions of Monsieur Scarron's Works, is, that I find not in any of them a perfect Catalogue of the Pieces written by him; of which defect, I may have occasion to say more elsewhere.  
And lastly, whereas it is not unusual in Prefaces, to make some promise of what else may be retrieved, of Authors, whose precedent Labours have been well received; I am here to acquaint the Ingenious Novelists, and other Lovers of the Productions of Monsieur Scarron, that there is yet something of his upon the Stocks, which will be ready to be launched out in the English Language some time the next Term, without any Proviso, upon the kind or unkind reception of this.  
J. D.   

THE UNEXPECTED CHOICE, A Novel.  By Monsieur Scarron. 
THough it be the first requisite in the writing of a story, to begin with the circumstance of Time, yet must I (who am a man of an humour by myself, and have always pretended to greater sincerity than any that ever employed themselves in writing Novels) acknowledge myself at a loss, as to this particular, & can only say, that what I am going to relate happened during the time that Naples was governed by Kings. Under one of those named (if my instructions deceive me not) Alphonso there lived one Leonard de S. Severin, Prince of Tarentum, one of the chiefest Grandees of the Kingdom, and the most eminent for Military Affairs of his time. To the great regret of all lovers of Heroic Spirits, this excellent person dies in the Summer of his Age, and noble exploits, and leaves the Principality of Tarentum to an only Daughter, named Matilda, of whom I find one very pleasant remark, whereof I think it my duty to give the Reader a strict account, to wit, that the very day of her Father's death, she had been upon the Theatre of this World, just sixteen years and a half, wanting eleven weeks, and consequently that from the time that her Parents made use of the means to get her, we may account much about seaventeen years. This young Princess was born, or begot (it matters not much whether) under so benevolent a Constellation, as if a Society of Astrologers had minuted either the coition or the nativity, to her advantage only, without any communication of its influences to others that might possibly come into the World at the same time. But whether we are so much obliged to the stars for their influences, as those Gentlemen tell us, or not, certain it is, that common fame gave it out of Matilda, that she was beautiful as an Angel, and that this beauty, lest it might dazzle such as beheld it, was surrounded by so extraordinary a mildness and sweetness of nature, as gave occasion to such as were unacquainted with the strangeness of her ingenuity, to suspect her being at a great distance from it.  
Her Father, having no other, and out of hopes of any more Children, had long before his death promised her in marriage to Prospero, Prince of Salerna. This Prospero was a person of an insolent and very incompliant humour: and yet the pattern of mildness and serenity, Matilda, by reason of her often seeing of him, and bearing with his imperious treatment of her, had brought herself to such a custom of loving and fearing him, that there was never any slave so absolutely dependent on the disposal of a Master, as this young Princess was on that of old Prospero; for, in comparison of a person so young as Matilda, I may justly so call a man, who trebled her Age, that is, wanted not much of completing a Jubilee.  
The Love she bore this superannuated Lover might well be called a certain awe and submission, begot by custom, rather than the effect of any inclination; and yet, however it might be called, it was so full of sincerity, as that which he bort her was of self-interest. Not but that he had a kindness and affection for her, and that to as high a degree as possibly he could have, and in that he did no more than what any other might have done as well, since she was the most amiable person in the World: but he was of his own nature, one that was incapable of being amorous to any great height, and, in the person, to whom he directed his affections, setting a value on her merit and beauty, distinct from that due to her upon the account of her wealth. According to this Character of him, his addresses should have been very importunate to Matilda; and yet he was so fortunate, or rather she so easily satisfied, that though he had not for her all the respects and compliances requisite in a person that knows how to love, he nevertheless became absolute Master of her affections, and by accustoming her to his ill humours, brought her to think them the more supportable. He always found fault with whatever she did, and was perpetually persecuting her with those instructions, which grave persons are apt to give to young people, and which the latter so unkindly entertain. In a word, he must have been more troublesome to her then an ill-natured Governess, if she could have found any thing to quarrel at, in a person whom she truly loved. This indeed must be acknowledged, to his commendation, that when he was in a good humour, he entertained her with pleasant stories of the old Court, he played on the Guitar before her, and expressed his activity in the footing of a Saraband. His age I gave an account of before, which was, that if he had alienated his Patrimony, he was within two years of his restauration, according to the Jewish Lawgiver. There was little to be objected against his person; he was very neat and modish in his , but above all extremely curious in his Periwigs, a clear argument that he had but little hair of his own, what service soever he may have lost it in. Nor was he negligent in ordering his teeth, for the greater beauty of them, only it might be said that time, which shortens other things, had made them somewhat longer than they were twenty or thirty years before. He also took a great deal of pains to exceed others in the whiteness and delicacy of his hands, and suffered the nail of the little finger of his left hand, to grow to a very great length, which he thought the finest piece of gallantry in the World; for which I cannot imagine what reason he might have, unless it were to distinguish him from all others. Moreover, he was a great Artist in the disposing and intermixture of his Feathers and Ribbons; very punctual in the observance of some devotion at night; went always presumed, and his Pockets were never unfurnished with somewhat to eat, and Verses to recite; and he forgot not to bring along with him some wretched Copies of his own production. As for new Songs, and whatever were A la mode, of that kind he was as well stored as any man, and as cheaply; for, of those who had the reputation of being ingenious, he was a great lover of such only as expected nothing from him. He had a little smattering skill upon several instruments; did his exercises passably well, and above all others, that of Dancing. He had done some remarkable actions, whence he might have pretended to some repute of gallantry; but these were counterpoised by a many others, not fit to come into that Class, so that they were, as a man may say, like Cherries has stily gathered, for one ripe one, two or three that were not. In fine, to make a more perfect Anatomy of the person, I conceive it cannot be done any way so well, as by a certain description, which I had occasion to make of one who thought it his shortest way to reputation, to write somewhat against me, wherein he would needs make my diseases, and the deformities of my body the subject of his Satire. As to the fame he proposed to himself, he is the more likely to obtain it; because both his writings and mine contribute to the accomplishment of his desires. And thus much of his Character suits with the person I am now to describe, and so I shall not stick to give this latter the same denomination, as I had done the other, which was;  

The Fantastic Gallant.  

HEre lies one known so well by fame,  
That we need not inquire his name,  
Needing no other superscription,  
For his discovery, than this description.   

He'd been a tow'rdly child and bold,  
And sat a Horse at seven year old;  
But alas! who would ere have thought,  
He should at manhood come to nought.   

To singing he a love did bear,  
Though he had neither voice, nor ear;  
And at a dance he would make one,  
Though's dancing-days were well-nigh gone.   

Yet as to this fair Quality,  
Some stick not to affirm, not I;  
That they are not the best to dance  
've lived at Naples, or in France.   

There was another great disaster,  
Our Gallant was a Poetaster;  
And Verses made, such as they were,  
But still Minerva was not there.   

He had too, but the devil was in't,  
A Fortnight's mind to be in print;  
Yet was he at perpetual Jars,  
With Printers, and with Booksellers.   

With these he had had treaties many,  
But still without effect in any;  
They still with charge and hazard close,  
Liking men's works to Gondoloes.   

Of these some few, for state or price,  
For Grandees were and Seigneuries,  
Others, for many that desire  
Frequent convenience, at low hire.   

To neither he contribute would,  
parted with Coin like drops of blood;  
And so the cautious crew to spite,  
id all transcribe, or all recite.   

Another way than came in's pate  
His reputation to dilate;  
Of some new Mode to be th'inventor,  
His wits he stretched upon the Tenter.   

For colours, Mottoes, and devises  
To please fair Ladies of all sizes,  
All came to him, sooner or later,  
As to perpetual Dictator.   

Of Fancies, Periwigs, and Feathers,  
He had to suit all sorts of weathers;  
Yet might he justly make't his boast,  
That all was done with little cost.   

Another humour much did haunt  
This Fancy-feather-wigged Gallant;  
His Pedigree he would derive  
As far— as any man alive.   

From truth, I mean a for had he not  
A Christian been, cause so begot  
(However he had seaped the briers)  
The Heath'nish Gods had been his Sires.   

But Modesty a Virtue is,  
Sometimes resides in Palaces;  
So some well known Heroic coition  
Did satisfy his great ambition.   

Howe'er, he had no mind to wars,  
Because men thence returned with scart.  
Broken pates, wounds, & many thumps.  
Disordered limbs, and wooden stumps.   

Yet would he talk of fights & sallies,  
Pitched fields on mountains, or in valleys  
Onsets, assaults, storms, and approaches,  
As freely as of Balls or Coaches.   

Nay such was his discourse, in fine,  
Of Military Discipline,  
That, to a common understander,  
He seemed to be some Alexander.   

He further understood the Globe,  
As Surgeon does the use of Probe,  
Knew how the Stars their course did vary,  
As if he'd been their Secretary.   

But what did more concern mankind,  
He was not in those things behind,  
Wherein some men do place a glory,  
Transcending all Romance or Story:   

That is, he fastened had his claws  
Of study in most Countries Laws;  
Can give account of several Nations,  
Their humours, policies, and fashions.   

Of knowledge nothing scaped his wit,  
As if he'd been in the deep pit,  
Where unexhausted Science lies,  
Humane attempts to exercise.   

In things also, some time he'd spent,  
Of quite another Element;  
For (since it was not heavens command  
All mischief should be done on Land.)   

In Sea-affairs he was well skilled,  
To Mathematics kindly-willed,  
And on the Chard could read a Lecture  
Much better than on Architecture.   

To Empires far remote, by line  
In Map, their bounds he could assign;  
And, by the same, account did keep  
Of the vast Regions of the Deep.   

Yet little maw he had to roam,  
Nor seen, but once, ten miles from home  
He would not trust the Seas untrue,  
For all the Treasures of Peru.   

Those he so hated, that he swore,  
He'd rather break his neck ashore,  
Then hazard drowning in the Main,  
Never to be retrieved again.   

But what e'er he might be, yet these  
Were comprehensive Knowledges,  
Such as the Owner might commend  
To some Admirer, and some Friend:   

But still there wanted somewhat yet  
These great endowments to complete:  
In all emergencies, Mens sana,  
Sincerity, and prudence, Ana.   

Modest thoughts, of high perfections,  
In all cuncerns, calm recollections,  
Neatness, without affectation,  
Constancy in inclination.   

These Characters denote a mind  
To all transcendent Acts inclined,  
Which Art and Nature's joint consent  
Would raise up to accomplishment.    
But what are all these advantages in comparison of that which outweighs them all? One of the most amiable Princesses in the World looked on this person as the only object of her devoted Love; true it is, she was not full seventeen years of age; but this pitiful Prince of Salerna thought that the least of his concerns, and reflected not on the disproportion between them as to that particular. The Princess Matilda, being beautiful and wealthy, as she was, would, no doubt, have been adored by divers other humble-Servants, and Gallants, if it had not been generally believed in Naples, that her matching with Prospero had been a business fully concluded long before her Father's death. To which may be added, that the quality of this Prince was such as diverted all those, who upon the encouragement of their estates or extraction might have been his Rivals, from making any addresses to her. The greatest part therefore of these over-timorous, and over-cautious Lovers were content to make a discovery of their inclinations for her only by their sighs, which we may well think availed them little, since that is the concerns of this world, speeding ever presupposes speaking. Only one person, named Hippolito made a public profession of being a Rival of Prospero's, and a most respectful Lover of Matilda. He was of one of the most illustrious houses of Spain, descended from that great Ruis Lopez d' Avalos, who was Constable of Casteele, and in whom Fortune made the greatest demonstrations she could of her inconstancy; insomuch that having been the wealthiest and most eminent Grandee of his Country, he was scornfully forced out of it in a poor and wretched condition, and reduced to the extremity of accepting money of his friends, to make his escape to Arragon, where the King took him into his protection, and assigned him such Revenues in Naples, as to maintain him answerably to the rank of the chiefest in the Kingdom. This Hippolito was one of the most accomplished persons of his time; and the reputation of valour which he had acquired in several parts of Europe, meeting in conjunction with that of having a clear and gallant Soul, made him remarkable above all others. He was then fallen in love with Matilda; conceived little hope of his being beloved by her, while she had any kindness for Prospero, and yet could not forbear loving her. He was liberal even to prodigality, whereas his Rival was thrifty, even to avarice. He slighted not the least occasions of making discoveries of his magnificence towards Matilda, yet without the least advantage to himself, in regard her imperious Servant Prospero kept her from approving aught of those gallantries, which any other besides himself might have performed upon her account. But a violent Love defies all difficulties and disdains, and will act consonantly to its own inspirations, whatever the success may prove. He therefore often ran at the Ring before his Mistress' Window; entertained her with Serenades, appointed Tournaments, and Tilt; in fine, he omitted no divertisements, whereby he might force that insensible Beauty to some acknowledgement of the Love he bore her. The devises, and colours of Matilda, were known and observed in his Liveries; and the Verses he made for her, and the Airs and Songs he got composed and sung in praise of her, made her the general discourse of all in Italy, who were any way concerned in the affairs of Love. And yet she was no more moved at all this, then if she had never heard any thing of it; and it happened many times, that by the express order of her Prince of Salerna, she must take some trivial occasion to get out of Naples, just on the very day, when the amorous Hippolito intended to divert her with a Ball, Tilting, or some such gallantry. Nay upon all occasions she disobliged him with so apparent an affectation, and behaved herself towards him with a rigour so inconsistent with the disposition of so intelligent a person as she was, as gave all a just ground to charge her with cruelty, and to murmur against her.  
But Hippolito was nothing discouraged at all these obstacles; and his Love was rather inflamed to a higher pitch, than any way remitted by those visible disdains of Matilda. Nay what was yet of greater consideration; he expressed towards Prospero, the respects he ought him not, even though he had not been his Rival, and, to show his submissions to Matilda, had for him those deferences, which are commonly observed by such as converse with persons of a quality transcending their own, though only Fortune (not always the Patroness of Merit) made the difference between him and the Prince of Salerna. In a word, he respected his Mistress in his Rival, and, by an inexpressible violence in the business of Amours, forbore all aversion towards him, because he was beloved by Matilda.  
It was quite otherwise with Prospero; he had a perpetual Pique against Hippolito, talked of him with all the disadvantage he could, nay would have given him an ill report, could he have been persuaded any would have believed it. But Hippolito was the darling and delight of Naples, and his reputation was there so well settled, that all his endeavours to blast it would have proved fruitless, even though the other had discontinued the doing of those noble actions, whereby it had been raised.  
Thus was Prospero the happiest man living in his Loves, and at a small charge, assured of the Favours of Matilda; and that fair Princess saw him not often enough, though he visited her every day, when, by a sudden Apostasy of Fortune, she was reduced from the height of prosperity, to the extremest point of misery. She had a Cousin-German by the Father's side, a Person, whose worth had been the more remarkable, had it not been obscured by his ambition and his avarice. He had had his education with the King, was much about his age, and had so far insinuated himself into his affection, that he was in a manner the director of all his divertisements, and the Alembick, through which all his favours to others were distilled. This Rogero de S. Severin (so was he called) bethought himself, that the Principality of Tarentum belonged of right to him, and that a Daughter could not inherit, to the prejudice of an Heir-male, of the same name and family. He acquainted the King with his pretensions, who permitted him to make all the advantages he could thereof, and promised to countenance and assist him with his authority. The business was kept secret a while, till such time as Rogero had possessed himself of Tarentum, and put a strong garrison into it; all which was done before Matilda had the least distrust of any such design.  
The poor Princess, surprised with this treacherous turn of fortune, and never having had any cross accident before, was as it were thunderstruck at the news of it. She was forsaken by all, save only her sincere Lover Hippolito, who appeared on her behalf, in opposition to all the attempts of a Royal Favourite. On the contrary, Prospero who was obliged to her above all others, did less for her then any; whereas Hippolito did not only what he should have done but much more. He went and proffered her the utmost of his services, which yet she durst not accept of, fearing she might thereby displease her Prince of Salerna, who visited her not as he was wont to do, while the Principality of Tarentum was thought to be indisputably her right.  
In the mean time, Hippolito fell into discourse, upon all occasions, concerning the injustice they did Matilda, and the groundless pretence of Rogero; who hearing of it, threatened him with a Guard, in case he forbore not that freedom of talking. But he being a person generally beloved, not only in Naples, but divers other places, where he was known, had raised up a party strong enough to put the Favourite into some doubt of the success of his lewd designs. He made several attempts upon Tarentum, but all proved fruitless, by reason of the good order which Rogero had taken for the security of the place. At length, animosities growing higher and higher on all sides, and several Princes of Italy concerning themselves in the quarrel, the Pope was forced to interpose his authority therein; by whose persuasions all further Acts of hostility were prevented, and the King of Naples was prevailed with, to appoint Judges, of known integrity, to decide the difference betwixt his Favourite and Matilda.  
It may be easily imagine what extraordinary expenses Hippolito was at in the mean time, being the head of so considerable a party, and of the humour he was of; and it will not also be a hard matter to grant, that Matilda, though a great Princess, was soon reduced to very great extremities. The Favourite had got all her Estate into his possession. He had persuaded the King that she held a correspondence with his enemies. Of all her former Revenues, she could not command any thing, and none would become Creditors to a person, whom a Favourite was resolved to ruin. Prospero had made an absolute breach with her, not affording her so much as the favour of a visit, nor expressing the least compassion for her misfortune; yet was her affection still so great towards him, that she was not so much sensible of his ingratitude, as his forgetfulness of her. Hippolito would not himself make her any proffer of money, as being fully satissyed, that she would have refused it. He bethought himself of a more generous course. He got one of his friends to present her with it, with instructions that he should not so much as mention the name of Hippolito, and engage the Princess upon her honour, never to speak of it, that the pleasure he did her might not procure him the hatred of the Favourite.  
In the mean time all preparations were made for the decision of the difference; the Judges met, and the cause was carried for Matilda. The King was displeased with the Sentence; Rogero was enraged; the Court was astonished at it; all were glad or sorry, according to their different inclinations and concerns; but the generality admired and commended the integrity of the Judges.  
Matilda being overjoyed that she had got the better in a suit of so great importance, sent a Gentleman express, with all the expedition she could, to give Prospero an account of the happy success of her affairs. Prospero was very much pleased to hear it, and to assure the Messenger of his gladness, he embraced him, and entertained him with much kindness, and liberally promised him his services, if ever any occasion should require them. Hippolito, who had no notice of it till after his Rival, presented the person, who brought him the news, with a Diamond of very great value. He prepared a noble treat for all of the Court, that would participate of it: he caused a spacious place to be railed in, before his Mistress' Windows, and for eight days together opposed all persons that came against him, at the exercise of running at the Ring. A divertisement and gallantry of that transcendence is not ordinarily performed without much noise of it. Many Princes of Italy, most Relations and Friends to Matilda, were concerned in it, and were remarkable for what they did; and the King himself, who was a great Lover of that kind of exercise, honoured it with his presence. The Favourite had such an ascendent over his Master, that he might have prevented his being there; but he, out of some mysterious policy, had made a seeming reconciliation with Matilda, as it were out of a design to have all the World satisfied, that if he had not really been persuaded he had a right to the Principality of Tarentum, he would not have attempted the possession of it. The King took it kindly at his hands, that he had so readily submitted to the decision of the Judges; and to reward his compliance, and recompense the loss of his pretensions to Tarentum, bestowed on him one of the most considerable Governments in the Kingdom, additionally to those he had before.  
Mean time, Hippolito out did all that appeared at the exercise of tilting. Among others, Prospero would needs be his Antagonist. He came in overshadowed with Feathers beyond all that ever used that ornament to vanity; but at the first career he got, instead of the honour he had proposed to himself, a cruel fall, either through his own fault, or that of his Horse, and hurt himself very sore, or at least pretended it. He was carried into Matilda's House, who out of indignation immediately left the Balcony, and bestowed many ill wishes on the amorous Hippolito. He came to hear of it, and was so extremely troubled thereat, that he broke up the meeting, and went his ways, like a Desperado, to a fair house he had, about a League distant from Naples.  
Prospero in the mean exasperated at his fall, treated Matilda after a strange manner, so far as to tell her in plain terms, that she had been the occasion of his disgrace, and to reproach her with being in love with Hippolito. The innocent Matilda, always sweet-natured, always humble, and always implicitly in love with her own Tyrant, begged his pardon, made all the excuses she could, and in a word was as simple, as he was brutish.  
Hippolito had a Sister, who had been brought up at the Court of Spain, where the Queen was pleased to have a more than ordinary kindness for her, and was not long before returned to Naples, upon some account or other, whereof I could never meet with any, and yet it might have been of great concern to the carrying on of this story. Besides her advantage as to beauty, which was very great, she was a person of extraordinary merit, such as might well render her worthy the vows of the chiefest in the Kingdom. At her return out of Spain, she found her Brother's affairs in so bad a posture, that when he had appointed the running at the Ring, she would not by any means appear at Court, where she could not have an attendance suitable to a person of her condition, and she had confined herself to that fair house, which was all her Brother had unsold. She saw that Divertisement; but, incognito, and having observed her Brother breaking up the meeting so abruptly, and departing from Naples, she followed him, and found him in the most deplorable condition of any man living. He had broken his Lances to pieces, torn his feathers, and his hair, nay wreaked his indignation on his  and his face; in fine, he was fallen into such a distraction, as she could have conceived but little hopes of his recovery, had she not known, that a look of Matilda's, though still indifferent, nay even cruel, would make him forget a thousand ill treatments. She therefore made it her only care to comfort him, gave way to his passion instead of opposing it; railed at Matilda, while he gave her ill language, and spoke again as advantageously as she could of her, when, after all his transportations, she found him more amorous than ever he had been.  
The humorous Prospero was far from having the same compliance for Matilda; the fall off his horse stuck in his stomach still, and he was perpetually charging her with it, as though she had been the principal occasion of it. It happened one day, that, after she had been to give her Judge's thanks for their savourable decree on her behalf, she went to do the like to the King, though he had been against her; but, in Courts, for any one to speak sincerely and according to his Sentiments, argues weakness of judgement, and want of Prudence, and to receive denials otherwise then with thankful acknowledgements, a certain indigence of common civility. It happened then, one day, that being in an Outer-room at Court, adjoining to the Presence-Chamber, she sees Prospero coming in. He had visited her indeed after his fall, but never left her without a reproachful Lecture, for having suffered Hippolito to run at the Ring before her door. Nay he stuck not to tell her plainly, that if she had not resolutely settled her affections on his Rival, she would not have had so great a compliance for him.  
But nothing could be more injurious, nothing more insufferable than the impertinent complaints and expostulations of Prospero. It was not in Matilda's power to prevent a public exercise of that kind, though it had not been done upon her account, since her Palace took up one whole side of a spacious Quadrangle, and if she could have done it, she ought not to have done so, without hazard of being defective in point of Civility or Gratitude. Only Prospero's erroneous reflections fatisfyed him, that she had done amiss, and that she had injured him in a high degree, and he was so incensed against her, that he had forborn visiting her, as if all correspondence between them were quite broken off. The poor Princess was extremely troubled at it, and she no sooner perceived him coming, but she went and stood just in his way. He would have shunned her, and with a scornful look, passed by. She took him by the Arm, and looking on him with an Eye able to charm any but that humorous Master, she asked him what occasion she had given him to shun her. What occasion have you not given, replies the Prince very angrily, and what hope you ever to recover the reputation you have lost, in countenancing the Courtship and Gallantries of Hippolito? It is not in my power to hinder his affection towards me, nor yet to prevent the discoveries he makes of it, replies Matilda; all I have to say for myself, is, that he hath little encouragement to do either from my approbation thereof; and methinks I could not give him a greater assurance of my displeasure, then that of quitting the Balcony soon after he had begun the sports before my Window. You should have forborn coming into it at all, says Prospero; but give over dissimulation, and acknowledge, that the true reason of your departure thence, was, that you observed, in the looks of all that were present, how much they wondered at your appearance there. The love of Hippolito had already dispossessed you of your judgement, and his empty gallantries had soon outweighed, in it, all the services it was in my power to have done you.  
Matilda could not forbear tears at this harsh reproof; yet would have returned him foam answer; but he gave her not the time to do it, besides that the indignation she perceived spreading over his countenance, quite startled her out of all resolution. When it was doubtful whether you were Princess of Tarentun said he to her, and the King was ready to order the securing of your person, I was desirous to see what might be the fruits of your infidelity and imprudence, and whether adversity would occasion your being guilty of a great miscarriage I forbore making any public discoveries of my solicitations on your behalf, as your Gallant did, nay I pretended myself clearly unconcerned in what had happened to you. In the mean time Hippalito made much noise, and served you but little, and your affairs were a long time in a desperate condition. You did what you could, to reassure yourself of my affection, but still left undone the main thing you should have minded, since your kindness was still the same towards Hippolito. You had your designs in all, and imagined you carried them on with much secrecy and subtlety. You bethought yourself of all the ways you could to drain that undeserving Gallant, out of a  persuasion, that when it would be for your convenience to disburden yourself of him as a superfluous and useless person, I should think it an excess of happiness, to supply his place; and you made a full account that if upon the trial of your cause you should have lost Tarentuns, the charms of your Beauty would at any time assured you of being Princess of Salerna. But as soon at a favourable Decree had made a revival of your hopes, the scene of your affection was changed, and your maxims of Policy gave way to those of your Love. You imagined to yourself, that a young Gentleman, who had ruined himself by the extravagant discoveries of his inclinations to you, was fit for your turn then I might have been; that marrying a Prince of Salerna, you would come under the tuition of a Master authorized by Custom and the Laws, and that your dear Hippolito would have been as much your humble Servant and Slave after marriage as he seemed to be before. Ah unfortunate and imprudent Princess! durst your besotted Hippolito make such open professions of love to a Lady of your fortunes, had she not given him some extraordinary encouragement to do it? and is it possible, that, upon a weak presumption of meeting with some return to his Love, he would have been at those vast expenses which have ruined him, and guilty of so remarkable an extravagance, as, by one single present, to enrich the person whom you sent to acquaint him with the good success of your cause? And after all these undeniable discoveries of your infidelity and indiscretion, can you be so vain as to imagine I should still bear you the affection I sometime did? Farewell, and, if you can, be fortunate with your Hippolito, and be not so fond as to imagine, I shall ever be unfortunate with Matilda.  
With these words, he would have left her; but the Prince stopped him again; nay, what she had never done before, presumed to contradict him. Ungrateful Prince, said she to him, it is impossible for me to give a greater assurance that still love thee, then by telling thee, that, after this most unmanly and disobliging discourse, I have not yet an aversion for thee. What thou hast said is more against thyself then against me, and I can make no better use of it to thy confusion and my advantage, then by acknowledging to thee, that all is true. 'Tis true Hippolito hath expressed a great affection for me, Hippolito hath not been frighted from rendering me all the services he could, and, to do that, defied the malice of a Favourite and the displeasure of a King; He honours me with all imaginable respect, and he does what he can to please me. He was desirous to protect me, when I was forsaken by all; and it is not to be denied, that he has ruined himself upon my account. Do thou instance in any one thing thou hast done that may come into the Balance with any of these: Thou wilt tell me that thou lov'st me. But canst thou have any affection for me, who art wanting even in point of civility towards me; civility, I say, which I conceive due to my Sex, though thou ought'st not any to my quality? And yet what ill-natured, or ill-humoured Master ever treated a Slave more unworthily than thou hast always treated me? And who would have suffered it, but a person besotted with an excessive love towards thee, as I am? No, no, Prince, thou art far from having occasion to complain, and thou shouldst take it the more kindly from me, that I do not. Nay, I do much more, I acknowledge, if thou wilt have me to do it, such crimes as I was never guilty of; I will never see Hippolito more, and I will be ungrateful to him, to recover thee out of thy ingratitude towards me, in a word, that I may once more gain thy heart, I shall think nothing impossible for me to do. There is nothing impossible for your fair Eyes to do, replies the Prince, setting his Periwig right; they have dispelled all my anger, and provided I ever hence forward have their favourable looks, the over-fortunate Prospero will never love any but the fair Matilda.  
The amorous Princess was satisfied with this short compliment from her grave Lover. Had they been in a place less public, possibly she would have cast herself at his feet, to give him thanks that he had pardoned her; but neither time nor place permitted her to make any further answer. The King was coming out of his Chamber; she entreated Prospero not to be far from her, while she spoke to the King; but he told her, as he was leaving her, that it was not fit they should be seen together, for some reasons he could not then acquaint her withal. She could not hinder his departure, and read in his looks, that it proceeded from a fearful distrust of his own Courtship: but she was got so near the King, that she had not the time to reproach Prospero with his being rather a subtle Courtier, than a sincere Lover. She presented herself to the King, rendered her respects to him, and gave him thanks. The King received her very coldly, and the answer he made her was so equivocal, that it might have been interpreted as much to her disadvantage, as to her favourt but the endearing expressions which she had so lately received from Prospero, had given her so great a satisfaction, that the last ingratitude he had expressed towards her, in refusing her his attendance to wait on the King, made no impression in her mind, no more than the slight reception she had from the King; so much was she overjoyed, that she had regained the favour of her imperious Lover.  
The very same day, she was visited by all the Ladies of quality about Naples; at which meeting there was an appointment made, that they should all go a-hunting the next day on Horseback, in Country-habits, and narrow-brimed Hats, with Plumes of Feathers in them. All the Amorous part of the Court came to see, and contribute to the divertisement, and so it is not to be questioned but the Prince of Salerna, the quintessence of all Courtship and Gallantry, was there among the rest. Nay he was at this time guilty of a strange profusion of kindness towards his Mistress, that is, he would needs make her a Present, which was more than ever he had done before. He writ her a Letter sweetened with all the candid expression she could imagine, and, with it, sent her one of those fine Hats; but to give the World a strict account of things as they passed, he had himself taken the pains to order the Feathers, among which there was not so much as one new one. If my memory fail me not, I have already told you, that, in matter of Plumage, he was the most remarkable person about the Court: This was the only extravagance wherein he was expensive, yet was that charge managed with all the thrift imaginable. He had the knack of diversifying his Plumes, transplanting, and transposing them so dextrously, that though the several parts were all old, yet he made them appear as if they were new, with as much art as the most expert Master of the Profession could have done it. I am apt to believe, that for the accomplishment of the Present, he spent a good part of the night in ordering it. The Princess received it, as if it had been sent her from Heaven, returned him more thanks and compliments for it, than all the Feathers in the World were worth, and promised him in the Letter she returned in answer to his, that she would look upon that miraculous Hat, as her chiefest ornament as long as she was able to wear it. I am extremely troubled, and doubt not but my Reader will be so too, that these two excellent Letters are lost; by which means, my Novel, and his satisfaction, are somewhat shorter than they might have been. But grief is superfluous where there is no remedy to be had: the bald consumer of human productions hath devoured other things, which we can only bemoan among the lost; but the only curse I have for his greedy teeth at the present, is for the loss of these two Missives, of which I would have said more, but have it not.  
The very reflection on this disappointment, hath put me so much out of humour, that I shall forbear giving you any account of what passed at the Hunting; nor indeed could I ever learn the particulars. Yet this may be imagined, that some Horses stumbled, and some fell; That the Ladies had this comfort, that if they had the misfortune to be thrown, they wanted not assistance to help them up again; That Prospero made an insufferable ostentation of his Gallantry above all the rest, and that he out-talked all, though he said nothing worthy attention.  
The divertisement the Ladies found in this Hunting-match, raised in them a desire to recreate themselves some other way the day following. They made an appointment to go by Sea to Pouzzolo, where the Princess Matilda was to treat them with a Collation and Music. They dressed themselves no less sumptuously for the diversion by water, than they had before for that by Land. The Boats wherein they were to be carried, had all the Ornaments they could have; they were hung with Tapestry, whether China or Turkey-work I know not, and there was no sitting but on rich Cushions. Prospero would needs go thither by Land, and without any Company, whether out of some discontent or melancholy, is not known; for there are those who never think better of themselves then when their humours clash with those of other people. He was mounted on the best Horse he had; clad in his richest Country-habit, and his head so beset with Feathers, as if some remote Island, where Ostriches are plentiful, had paid him an annual tribute of their Plumage.  
Hipplito's Countryhouse was in the way to Pouzzolo, and not far from the Seaside, so that the Prince of Salerna must needs pass by it. As soon as he came in sight of it, a slight imagination of Hectorship came into his head. He knew that Hippolito was at home, and thereupon alighted at the door to speak with him. Hippolito entertained him with all the civility due to a person of his condition, though he had not been accosted by the other with any. Prospero broke forth into a brutish expostulation with him; in that he had the presumption to make such discoveries of his Courtship to a Princess, who, by the disposal of a deceased Father and her own inclinations, was designed to be his Wife. Hippolito suffered his reproaches and harsh Language a good while, and answered him with all the meekness imaginable upon such an emergency, and told him, that he had noreason to be so much offended at those declarations of a love without hope. But at length. Prospero's insolent carriage overcame his Patience, and he was ready to call for a Horse, to give him satisfaction at a little further distance from his own House, when news was brought them, that the Sea was very rough, and that some Boats, full of Ladies, which they perceived from the shore, were in some danger of being cast away. Hippolito made no doubt, but Matilda and her Company were the Ladies in that distress, and thereupon he entreated Prospero to contribute his assistance, for the safety of their Common Mistress. He excused himself, alleging that he could not swim, and that he had not yet recovered himself of the hurt he had received by his fall at Tilting. The generous Hippolito detesting in his Soul the ingratitude of his Rival, made all the speed he could to the waterside. His Servants followed him, cast themselves into the water after his example, and with the help of some Fishermen, who fortunately chanced to be not far off, Matilda, and the Ladies of her Company were saved. All the Boats ran aground about a hundred Paces from the shore, and being split to pieces, Naples would have been full of lamentations for the loss of its choicest Beauties, had it not been for this seasonable relief. Hippolito was so fortunate, as that Matilde ought him her life. The love he bore her made him soon distinguish her from the many other Ladies, whom the Waver cast half dead upon the Rocks, along the Seaside. While the Fishermen and his Servants indifferently relieved the first they met withal, he lays hold on h● Princess, just as she was coming above water, and taking her under one arm and swimming with the other, he happily got her to the shore without the assistance of any other person.  
Matilda was much more disordered by that unhappy accident than any of the other Ladies whom they had saved as well as herself. They all made a shift to recover themselves after a little casting up of the Salt-water, change of , and fright, and so were well enough to take Coach, and return to Naples. But the Princess of Tarentum continued a long time ere she came to herself, and gave those that were about her any assurances of life. Hippolito, and his Sister Irene, took all the care they could of her. He sent immediately to Naples for the ablest Physicians, besides him whom the Princess particularly employed, and left his whole House to Matilda, and such of her Servants as were come to her, upon the report of that disaster. He accommodated himself and his retinue the best he could at a little Village not far from his own House, whence he sent frequent Messengers to inquire how the Princess did, when he could not do it himself. As for Prospero, he, extremely self-satisfyed with the discovery he had made of his resentments to Hippolito, had recommended Matilda and the other Ladies to the mercy of the Waves, without giving his thoughts any trouble concerning them, imagining haply, that, since he was note person likely to relieve them, it was his best course to deny his Eyes the sight of so unfortunate a spectacle, and to take his way gently back again to Naples, and there expect the doubtful event of the wrack, that he might rejoice at, or bewail it, according to their escape or miscarriage who were concerned therein.  
In the mean time, Matilda, with the assistance of her youth and the remedies prescribed to her, recovered her health, and, with that, her beauty, and was extremely satisfied with the kindness done her by Hippolito, and the obliging cares of his Sister Irene, who ingeniously acquainted her with the base indifference which Prospero had expressed for the hazard she had been in. Matilda made not any discovery of her resentment of it, either in her countenance or discourse; whether it were that her Love had smothered it, or that she had the power at that time to dissemble.  
The night before she intended to leave Hippolito's House, in order to her return to Naples, her thoughts were so disordered, that she could not sleep, whereupon she called for a Book and a Candle, to be set by her Bedside. Her Women were gone out of the Room, to take their repose, or do somewhat else, when she hears the door opening of a sudden, and perceives Prospero coming in. It may easily be imagined, how much she was surprised to see him at so unseasonable an hour, and how highly she conceived herself disobliged by so dis-respectful a visit. Her reproaches to him upon that occasion were not without some bitterness. Prospero was little moved thereat, but rather growing the more imperious, would needs have the Princess acknowledge, that she had purposely run into the hazard of losing her life, to give Hippolito the glory of being her deliverer. He charged her with the misfortune of being so near cast away, as a slur to her reputation, and represented to her, how base and unworthy a thing it was for her, to reside in the House of a person in love with her, to be lodged in his own Chamber, and laid in his own Bed.  
Matilda was somewhat astonished at these reproaches, yet thought it below her to make it appear to him how unjust they were, but pressed him with others that were not so easily avoidable, for the backwardness of his assisting her, and with a Satirical ralliery bemoaned his want of skill in swimming, and his being still indisposed by reason of his fall. This put his Spirits into a general commotion, so that blushing with anger and confusion, he fell a railing at her, and told her that she should never see him more, in as much as Rogero the King's Favourite had proffered him his Sister, and with her all the advantages which may be expected from the alliance of a Favourite.  
Matilda was not able to hold out any longer against so terrible a menace; her thoughts were discomposed into a trembling astonishment; her indignation gave way to her love; and she who had seemed so fierce and furious before, was by this sudden storm become submissive and suppliant. On the other side, Prospero grew more and more calm, when he saw her sufficiently humbled; and according to his Custom, he began to cajole her, and fell into those kind and amorous insinuations, which he might have used, if, in all the debates that had happened in their Loves, he had always observed the respect and and compliance he ought her. He renewed his protestations of love to her, and out of eagerness to make them over-pressing and persuasive, he made such as were ridiculous and impertinent; so far as to wish her all manner of misfortunes, that he might have a noble occasion to assure her how much he would concern himself therein. Why are you not still in disgrace at Court? said he to her, with an amorous tone; Why are you not still persecuted by the malicious Favourite Rogero? Why are you not still unjustly dispossessed of your Principality of Tarentum? You should see how earnest a Solicitor I would be on your behalf; how I would importune the King himself, though by all Artifice exasperated against you, to do you justice; with what rigour I would engage myself in your quarrel against your Enemies, and whether I would be afraid to hazard my life and fortunes, to restore you to what were unjustly detained from you. It is not decreed I hope, replies the Princess, not is there any necessity, I should become more unfortunate the● I am, that you should have occasions to give me so great assurances of your generosity, nor were it just I should put your Love to such dangerous Trials.  
They were thus seriously engaged in discourse, when some confused and dreadful outcries of fire obliged them to run to the Windows, whence they presently perceived the lower part of the Lodgings where they were casting up fire and smoke; and ere they had well looked about them, a thick Cloud of smoke intermixed with Sparks of fire was coming up, along the Staircase into the room, which put them out of all hopes of escaping that way, which Prospero was putting himself into a posture to attempt. The Princess extremely frighted, begged of him, that he would not forsake her in so great a danger, and minded him of making some advantage of the Sheets and Hang, to get out at the Windows. The Prince, as much frighted as she, told her, the danger was too here at hand to think of any such expedient, and having already measured with his Eyes the height of the Window, and deliberating how he might best cast himself down into the Court, he plainly told, that, in such an emergency as that was, the only resolution was, get off who could. Nay if it be so, said she to him, thou shalt not escape without me, and if I run any hazard here, I am resolved, that the most ungrateful and least generous of men shall participate of it with me.  
With those words she courageously fastened on Prospero, and the indignation she had conceived against him for his cowardice, gave her so much strength, that, notwithstanding all his endeavours to clear himself, he could not get from her. He fell a swearing and cursing; then railed at her; and at last was so much a brute, as to threaten her with beating or death (which of the two is not certainly known) and not doubt he was a person as likely as any to do it, and in all probability would have done it, if, while he was struggling with her, and that with as much earnestness and animosity, as if he had had to so with a detested Enemy, the generous Hippolito had not come reasonably into the room. The Princess seeing him, disengaged herself from Prospero, and made towards Hippolito, who, not allowing her the time to speak to him, covered her with a wet Sheet, which he had purposely brought with him, and having taken her in his Arms, rushed out like a Lion with his prey, through the flames which filled the Staircase. He was so fortunate as to bring her to a place, where she was out of all danger, and his generosity was so excessive, that he did the same kindness to his Rival. True it is, that he burned his , and findged the hair of his Head and Eyebrows in the service; but what are burnt , and singed Hair, to a person whose heart is inflamed with Love?  
In the mean time, while Matilda is recovering herself out of the fright, and while Prospero gets away with all the speed he could to Naples, without so much as returning thanks to his deliverer, his over-generous deliverer sees his house burnt down to the ground, and with his house all the furniture of it, and his horses; in a word, all that his former profusions had left him Master of. Matilda was troubled at it, I will not say more than he, for he was not much, but as if she saw what she accounted of greatest value in the world condemned to destruction. She imagined herself the occasion which had brought that great misfortune upon him; and she was not mistaken. Her Cousin, the Favourite, who had not made a reconciliation with her, but out of a pernicious design to ruin her with more ease, had found out some mercenary souls among the menial servants of Hippolito, whom he had hired to fill the Cellars of their Master with materials easily combustible, which they set on fire in the nighttime, according to the instructions they had received from Rogero. This cruel Favourite made no conscience of procuring the ruin of a decayed Cavalier, and his destruction to boot, conditionally there were involved in it that of a Kinswoman, whose estate he was to inherit; and as if he thought it not wickedness enough to compass her death, which was unavoidable if his design had taken effect, he bethought himself of a way to render her memory odious. While Hippolito's house was a burning, Rogero had managed his treacherous plot with so much subtlety, that, by order from the King, some Officers were sent to Matilda's Palace where having broke open her Closet, it was pretended, that there were Letters found, which seemed written to the Duke o● Anjou, and to convict her o● holding a correspondence with that dangerous Enemy to the State.  
The still-unfortunate Princess received this sad news, just a she was sending to Naples for Coaches, in order to her return thither. She was extremely 〈◊〉 a loss to hear it, yet soon reassuming what courage she could in so unexpected a perplexity she and her train made a shift t● get to Naples a foot, but in so deplorable a condition, as raised pity in all that saw them make their entrance into it. Hippolito would have gone along with her, but she laid her absolute commands upon him not to do it, as being, possibly, still in some fear of displeasing Prospero. So that the most generous, and most faithful, yet most unfortunate of all Lovers beheld her departure, much more afflicted at this fresh accident which had happened to his Mistress, and that he durst not presume to follow her, then at the loss of his House.  
Matilda was no sooner come to Naples, but she was secured. She desired access to the King; it was denied her. She sent a Messenger to desire Prospero to come to her; he pretended indisposition, and that he could not stir abroad: and so she was of a sudden forsaken of all friends, as if she had fallen sick of the Plague. The same day there was an order brought her from the King, that she should departed Naples. Her Domestics basely left her in the height of extremities; her Creditors began to persecute her, forgetting all respect to her quality; and she was reduced to so great misery, that she could not procure a Hackney-Coach, nor any other convenience of riding, to get to I know not what Prince of Italy, who, next to Rogero, was the nearest of her Relations, and had always espoused her interests, even against that unjust Favourite and bloody Kinsman.  
Being thus forsaken by all he● friends, destitute of all things and reduced to an impossibility of complying with so rigorous an Order, she took her refuge in a Monastery, into which yet they would not receive her, till they had the King's Permission to do it, and conditionally that she should departed thence that very night. She accordingly departed thence, and that so secretly, that the amorous Hippolito, notwithstanding all the Spies he had abroad, to bring him an account of her, could never get the least intelligence of what course she had taken. However, he would needs put himself to the hazard of missing her, rather than that he should be reproached with a neglect of seeking her. While he is running after her, or thinks he does so, she little thinks of him, and Prospero as little, or less, of her. Nay, this humorous. Prince speaks of her as one guilty of High Treason, is punctual in his attendance about the King and the Favourite, and as different emergencies produce different designs, he seriously falls in Love with Camilla, Rogero's Sister, and entreats the King to promote his obtaining of her. The King, who thought him a very advantageous match for his Sister, whom, of all his Subjects, he had the greatest affection for, communicates the proposal to the Favourite, who was content in all things to comply with the desires of his Master.  
This Sister of Rogero's was one of the greatest Beauties about Naples, and what relation soever she might have to her Brother in point of Fortune, she was no way concerned in his lewd designs. She was looked on at Court as the most considerable Match in the Kingdom, and she looked on Hippolito as the most accomplished Cavalier of his time; and possibly she loved him, or at least would have loved him, if she had not observed his affections passionately devoted to another. Matilda's misfortune had raised so great a compassion in her, and she was so generous, that if she had thought her Brother's malice had occasioned it, she would no doubt have reproached him with so lewd a procedure, and have been the first that should have detested it. She concerned herself so much in the loss which Hippolito had received, that, careless of whatever might be said of it, she went to give him a visit at his  House, to present him with a sum of money, and assure him of all it was in her power to do for him. She there met with his Sister Irene, who little expected such a visit, and much less the proffers of a kind reception, where she had any thing to command. The fair Irene thought herself extremely obliged to Camilla, for so generous an invitation, and was content to go along with her to Naples. What less than a ready compliance to so kind a proposal could be expected from a young Lady of her quality, who was then destitute of a House, and all other requisite accommodations, in a Country, where she was not known to any but her Brother, nay where it may be said she had not him, since that, as soon as he understood that Matilda had left Naples, he was gone a wand'ring after her like a distracted person, not knowing which way she had taken?  
It happened, the very day that Camilla went to Hippolito's house, to bring Irene thence to her own, the King was pleased to make her a visit, but the occasion of it was to recommend the Gallant Prince of Salerna to her affections, which he doubted not to gain upon the first assault of all that force of gallantry he always carried about him. Camilla, whose thoughts at that time were full of Hippolito, entertained Prospero and the proffers of his services, with as much coldness and indifference, as was consistent with the satisfaction which she conceived at the honour of a visit from her Prince. The disconsolate Irene kept her Company, and though her affliction was but too temarkable, yet did the rays of her Beauty like lightning, so break through the Cloud of her sadness, as to inflame the young King's affection towards her. His Love was violent even at its Birth. He approached her with as much respect and fear, as if he had been of her quality, and she of his: he took occasion to fall into discourse with her upon her Beauty, and that amiable person, without being daunted, or betraying any surprisal at so unexpected a Courtship, made so great discoveries of a perfect combination of Ingenuity, Prudence, and Modesty, that he considered her, from that interview, as a good, which only was deficient to the completing of his fortune.  
The King made a longer stay with Camilla than he thought to have done, and the pleasure he took in entertaining Irene, was so much the more observed, by all that were present, the more he had seemed before insensible to love, and behaved himself with an indifference towards the fairest Ladies about Naples. But indeed Irene was Mistress of such charms, that it was impossible for Souls the least subject to that tender passion, and least able to judge of her merit, to forbear loving her. Camilla, before she was acquainted with her, had a design to serve her upon the account of her Brother; but after she came to be known to her, she loved her wholly upon her own. She was easily inclined to believe the King was fallen in love with her, because she wished it so, and she was so far from envying her so great a happiness, as it might have been in some measure excusable in any other amiable person, that she was extremely satisfied therewith. She congratulated Irene, upon the noble conquest she had made, and no doubt she might have flattered the vanity and hopes of a Virgin more lowly-conceited of herself than she was; but this discreet person was firm in her persuasion, that what the King had done, was rather out of a frolic of gallantry, than Love; that he had no other design in it, but to find matter for his diversion; and that haply she was as soon out of his thoughts, as out of his sight. She was very much mistaken: the young King could not keep away long from her; and his Love was grown so violent that he resolved to see her again the very night after his first falling in love with her. He communicated his design to the Prince of Salerna, and told him, that he would go, incognito, according to the Spanish Courtship, to renew his addresses to Irene, under Camilla's Balcony. It may easily be imagined, how overjoyed Prospero was at this admittance to the Privacy of his Master's pleasures, and to be made his companion in an amorous adventure. It is probable, the Favourite Rogero would have been the person pitched upon for this design, or at least should have made one in it: but that he had had leave of the King that very day to go to Tarentum, where some important affair required his presence.  
Night came, and the King, accompanied by Prospero, armed as he was, according to the Italian way, that is, with more offensive Arms than were requisite for one man, took up his Post under Camilla's Balcony, who had been advertised of it by Prospero. She was too well versed in that kind of Courtship, not to afford the King the freedom of entertaining his Mistress with as much privacy as might be. She thereupon withdrew, and went into another Balcony, notwithstanding all the entreaties, which Irene made, that she would stay with her. The King made some reproaches upon that occasion, and told that fair Virgin, that she ought at least to have some compliance for a King, who had for her some what transcending it. I should owe your Majesty all that lies in my power, replied Irene, were it not there is something I own myself, which I cannot owe any other. What can you own yourself, replies the King, beyond what you own my Love? This, answered she, that I am not to believe you have any for me. Ah Irene, cries the King, can you doubt of that? assure yourself, there is not any thing more certain, nor ought I am not ready to do, to satisfy your incredulity. Can I believe your affection proportionable to the assurances you give me of it, replies she, I should yet have more reason to be dissatisfied with your Majesty, then admit what you do for a kindness. That were a strange injustice, said the King, for how is it possible, that a sincere love, such as mine is, should give any dissatisfaction? It would be an honour I confess, to some great Queen, replied Irene, but may well give people just occasion to pass harsh censures of the prudence of a person so mean as I am. 'Tis true indeed, says the King, that you are not a Queen, but who deserves to be such, may in time come to it. I am not guilty of so great a vanity, replies Irene, as to hope for so great a change in my fortune, from the slenderness of the merit I can pretend to, and I have this opinion of your Majesty's good nature, as that you will not any longer make an unfortunate person, such as I am, the subject of your diversion. Ah fairest Irene, said the Amorous Prince to her, what greater assurances, than I have done, can I make of the sincerity of my affection? Be satisfied then, that, as to my Love to you, the most passionate, and most faithful Lover in the World; cannot pretend to a greater, and if my tongue hath acquainted you with what my looks and sighs could not make you comprehend soon enough, imagine not that I expect, upon the account of my quality, to be exempted from the afflictions of a long Address, or am unwilling to undergo all the services and submissions, which the most amiable Mistress may look for, from a respectful Lover. But a disease grown so violent, as mine was, required a sudden remedy, and, how coy and scrupulous soever you may be, it may be some satisfaction to you, that a King, in the discovery of his love to you, hath been afraid to displease you.  
He said several other things to her, more passionate even then these, which he who overheard them, could not remember, as he did what I have given you an account of; I therefore leave it to the discreet Reader to imagine them: For, to make this King of Naples speak with the tenderness he did, and not injure him in the business of compliment, it would be requisite a man should be as amorous as he was, which it is now past my time to be. Irene still answered him with her accustomed modesty, and without seeming over-hardly, or over-easily persuasible, she so ingeniously broke off so ticklish a conversation, that the esteem the King had for her was thereby much heightened, and he was more in love with her at his departure thence, than he had been at his coming thither. From that time, no day passed, but he visited Camilla and Irene, nor did he miss any night his attendance at the Balcony where he employed all his amorous eloquence, to assure her how passionately he was her Servant.  
It happened one night, that having ordered his guard not to follow him, he went up and down the streets of Naples disguised, accompanied only by the Prince of Salerna, and he met with so much diversion at several places, that the better part of the night was past, when he came to Camilla's Balcony. Looking about him more narrowly, he found that two men had taken up their station under it, or if not under, they were at least so near it, as to overhear all the discourse which would have passed between him and Irene. One of those men parted from the other, and went into Camilla's house, and the other continued still in the street. The King expected a while, to see if he would be gone and leave him the freedom of the Street; but finding that he stirred not from the place, no more than if he had been a Sentinel charged upon pain of death to keep his station, he grew out of patience, and commanded Prospero, to go and question what that fixed person was, and to force him to a removal thence. The Prince of Salerna makes towards him, but with such preparation and observance, as if he had been employed in some hazardous adventure. As he drew nearer and nearer him, the other made away before him. Prospero animated by his removal from the place where he stood, endeavoured to come up to him, yet not with so much expedition as he might have done. The other made the more haste to get away, and perceiving Prospero still pursued him, he made the best advantage he could of his heels, and got into another street, the Prince of Salerna still following at a convenient distance.  
Mean time, the King stirred not from the place where Prospero had left him, expecting his return, that he might send him to give notice to Camilla and Irene of his waiting for them under the Balcony; and it is not unlikely his imaginations were wholly fixed upon his love (for a Lover never does any thing else, when he is alone) when that person who had parted from him whom Prospero pursued, and was gone into Camilla's house, was coming out again, and taking the King for his Comrade, Here Calixtus, said he to him, take this packet and make haste; the Commander in chief at Cayetto will take order for a Vessel for thy transportation to Marseiller● The King, not making him any answer at all, received the packet of Letters, which he presented to him. Farewell, Calixtus, added the same unknown person, the rest depends on thy diligence, and thou hast now in thy hands the fortune of the Duke of Anjou, thy Master, and mine. How, ungrateful villain! unparallelled Traitor! cries the King, putting his hand to his Sword, what design hast thou contrived against me? Rogero (for it was no other) exasperated at his being so unhappily mistaken, and by his despair becoming more wicked than before, thought of nothing but of either sacrificing his own life, or taking that of his Prince, who had loved him so well. The reproaches he conceived might be justly made him of his ingratitude and perfidiousness were as terrible to him, as the tortures he might have been put to. He had his Sword out as soon as the King, who charged him with so much rigour and fury, that Rogero, tormented with the remorse of his crime, as he was, was forced to use all the art he could to defend himself. At last animated with rage, and rallying all his spirits and courage, he no longer looked on his Prince otherwise then as an enemy, whom he must either destroy, or perish, and by the efforts of a desperado which he made against his sacred person, obliged him also to defend himself the best he could. But Kings, who possibly may be as valiant as other persons, are commonly assisted by a Genius transcending those of other men. Rogero, though he charged his incensed King with the greatest fury and despair imaginable, yet would he not haply have been able to hold out long against him, if the noise of their engagement had not brought to the place where it passed, several persons, who would soon have torn to pieces that detestable subject, that durst attempt the life of his Prince. Some of his own domestics, and of those of Camilla were the first that came into the street with lights, much astonished to see their Master struggling with the King. The unfortunate Rogero was so cast down at the appearance of the light, which exposed him to the dreadful looks of his Prince, that he was not able to endure them. His rage and valour forsook him, and his Arms fell from him. The King, who had the satisfaction to see him wounded, after he had had much ado with all the assistance of his valour, to prevent his being so by him, seized on him with his own hands, and committed him to the Custody of the Captain of his Guards, who had seceived Orders to keep all that night about the avenues of Camilla's house, and was come in very seasonably at that time, followed by his Soldiers.  
Prospero, in the mean time, was still in pursuit of his man, who running away, with all the speed he could, had unfortunately met full butt with the Watch, who that night, according to their custom, were taking their round about the City to prevent disorders. He discovered so great astonishment, and was at such a loss in all his answers to whatever was asked him, that they were resolved to secure him, though Prospero, who pursued him with his Sword drawn, and made himself known to the Watch, had not commanded them from the King, to take him into their Custody, and to have him ready whenere he should be called for. He returned to look after the King, and if he was at first sight astonished at the great number of Torches he saw in the street, and to find the King, whom he had lest all alone, so well accompanied, he was so much more, when he understood what had passed between the King and Rogero, and to see that Favourite, whom all the Court adored, generally detested by all, and by the Guards conducted to Prison.  
This accident prevented the King's seeing of Irene that night, or at least he forbore it, because he would avoid seeing Camilla, whom he sent Prospero to compliment, and withal to assure, that he made a distinction between her and her Brother, whose crime should not derogate aught from the esteem he had for her. Irene writ to him on Rogero's behalf, and, to oblige her Friend, did that which the importunate entreaties of a King passionately in love with her could not have obtained. The very next day Rogero was examined, and found guilty of High-Treason, for holding a correspondence with the Duke of Anjou, who had besides a great number of other Partisans in the Kingdom. He had received information by them of the insatiable ambition of Rogero; upon which intelligence, having proposed to him a match with a Princess nearly related to him, with such advantages as he could not hope from the King his Master, that ungrateful Favourite, betraying his Faith and Honour, was in requital to receive the French into Cayetto and Castellamara, of which places he was Governor.  
The same Judges who found him guilty of the Treason committed against his Majesty, discovered also the treacherous design he had contrived against the Princess of Tarentum. I think I told you elsewhere how the Prince of Salerna had shunned this Princess and disclaimed her concerns, when he saw her in disgrace, and very earnestly courted Camilla, whom he saw in favour. I am now to tell you of the same Prince, that no sooner had he perceived, that the King repent him of the ill treatments and misfortunes he had caused Matilda, through the malicious prosecutions of Rogero, and was of himself inclined to restore her to her former honours, and reinstate her in the possessions, which had been unjustly taken away from her, and to make considerable additions thereto, but he, the same generous Prospero, who had so lately so earnestly entreated the King to promote his Addresses to Camilla, was now as earnestly desiring he might decline her, and that he would not think amiss of him, if he still pretended to the possession of Matilda; and in the mean time, he prayed the King that he would order her to be sought out, and that he would give him a Commission to find her, where ever they had intelligence that she was, and to bring her back to Court. The King had his thoughts too full of Irene, that he should need a Remembrancer to put him in mind of her Brother Hippolito, and it was the greatest trouble he had, that there was no tidings of him. He thereupon sent Messengers into all parts of Italy, with order to find him out, while they sought after Matilda; and when they had found him, to bring him back to Naples. It was his hope, that he should give Irene an assurance thereby how nearly her concerns touched him, and how great an affliction it was to him, that she knew not what was become of a Brother, who was so dear to her.  
This Amorous Cavalier, having spent much time and diligence in quest of his exiled Princess, without any success, not so much as the satisfaction of having any tidings of her, wandered from place to place, as his Horse was pleased to carry him, not making stay at any, but when his own Horse, & also that of his Servants, whose thoughts were not so much bend upon the retrival of the Princess of Tarentum, as his Masters, needed rest and refreshment. For the latter abating only the little time that sleep forced itself upon him, it may be said, he took as little rest as a damned Soul, and after he had spent whole days in sighing on Horseback, he many times trifled away the succedent Nights, in making his complaints to the Rocks and Trees of the cruelty and absence of Matilda, and in quarrelling with the innocent Stars, which often shined to his great convenience, since he for the most part took up his lodging in the open Fields, and had no other Canopy then that of the Heavens.  
It happened one day, that, being so orepressed with sadness, he little reflected that his Servant and Horses could not feed on amorous thoughts, as he did, he was got, about Sun set to an obscure Inn, which looked more like a Rendezvous for Bandits and Rogues, than a place of entertainment for Travellers Hippolito was riding on, for Lovers are indefatigable, when his Servant represented to him, that their Horses were not able to travel any further, by reason of weariness and want of meat, not speaking any thing of himself, who stood in no less need of refreshment and rest. The despairing Lover was content upon this remonstrance to alight; but the Master of that wretched receptacle, who stood at the door, with his Wife, and another person of a mischievous look, and one that seemed to be somewhat of a Soldier, came and told him bluntly, that he had no accommodation for him, and that both his House and Stable were full. Hippolito was nothing troubled at that disappointment, and would have kept on his way, whereat his Servant was enraged, when the Soldier, who accompanied the Host, after he had whispered him somewhat in the Ear, comes to Hippolito, and fells him in the Portuguese Language, that he might alight, that he would hearty resign his Chamber, for the entertainment of so noble a person as he seemed to be; and upon the difficulty which Hippolito made of accepting so kind a proffer, the Host himself, who had before been so churlish, came and held the Stirrup for him to get off his Horse, looking on him with a smiling countenance, which might have sufficiently discovered the treacherous intentions of the person.  
With these civilities is Hippolito conducted by the Master of the House, and the Soldier, like an Ambassador, into the Inn. He had no mind to eat any thing, and having drunk only a glass of water (for Love is dry) he went out to take a walk at a place fit enough for the humouring of his Melancholy thoughts, which he had observed not far from the Inn. His Servant in the mean time sat down to Supper with the host, his wife, and the civil Portuguese, who had so kindly resigned his Lodging to Hippolito. He fed like one that had made an escape out of a Garrison besieged to the greatest extremities, and drunk so liberally, as that he had only so much discretion left, as might carry him to give his Master notice of Bedtime, which he was as likely a man to forget, as could have been wished.  
He went out to look for him among certain Rocks, where at last he found him, deploring the sad posture of his affairs and affections, and brought him back to the Inn. They carried him up to a Chamber, suitable to the house, that is, furnished with a couple of wretched Beds, and the Partitions so bad, that wind and air came in of all sides. Hippolito laid himself down with his  on, upon one of the Beds, and his Servant did the like on the other, where, having his brains and his belly full, his bones were soon at rest, and he slept so sound, as if he had done it to give his Master an example. Hippolito slept not, that is, he would not, for it is as great a reproach for a slighted Lover to take a good night's rest, as to commit some unworthy action.  
It was not long ere all in the Inn were laid to take their repose, or seemed to be so; and that there was a general cessation of all noise, but snoring, when some people on Horseback gave a sudden Alarm, and knocked at the doors, as persons who were extremely impatient to get in. The Host, who started out of his Bed upon hearing of the noise, knew them, and presently let them in. A while after, Hippolito hears the door of the Chamber next adjoining to his own opened, and several persons going into it, whereof some came presently out again, and the others, who continued there, had some discourse together. The particular concerns of Hippolito were such as left him but little curiosity to make any enquiry into those of other people, and he had not listened to those persons whom he heard talking, if, upon their speaking sometimes louder than other, they had not given him occasion to observe one voice, which he thought was not unknown to him. He therefore kept in his breath, and listened to those who were talking, but could not hear what they said, till that towards the end of their discourse, one of them spoke so distinctly, that these words teached his Ear. 'Tis even so, my Dear Julia, and I tell thee again, that few persons of my quality have been so cruelly persecuted by Fortune, as myself. She hurries me into disgraces beyond all former example, yet how great and insufferable soever they may be, I am less sensible of them, then of the ingratitude, wherewith the basest and unworthiest of men, hath requited the inclination I had to love him, and yet I must withal acknowledge, that this ingratitude of his towards me is a less discontent to me, then that which I myself am guilty of towards another. This is the only reproach which perpetually attends me, and the remorse it gives me is a thousand times a greater torment to my thoughts, than all the losses I have received, and all the miseries and misfortunes I am now reduced to.  
Another person, who seemed to make her some answer, spoke so low, that Hippolito could hear only some words, without any connexion, which were many times interrupted by sighs. He thereupon got up from the Bed, and drew near the Partition, which divided the two Rooms; but the noise he made was overheard, by those, to whom he would have listened, and so there was a cessation of discourse, but not of the sighs of that afflicted person, whose voice he thought should be that of Matilda. It may well be imagined that he was extremely impatient to know whether he were mistaken or not. To be satisfied therefore of so important a doubt, he was preparing himself to get out of the Room, when of a sudden the door was opened; upon which, by the light of dark Lantern, he perceives four men coming in to him with their Swords drawn, among whom he took notice of the Portuguese Soldier, and the Master of the House. If he were surprised to see those men come into his Chamber, which he might well think was not out of any good design, they on the other side were as much at a loss, that they found him not a sleep, as they expected to have done. Hippolito thereupon drawing his Sword, asked them what they came for to his room at that unseasonable hour, and in that posture, and he no sooner observed them making ready to fall upon him, instead of returning him any answer, but he charged them first, with so extraordinary rigour and dexterity, that he soon forced them to find out their way out of the room. His man in the mean time awaked; run to the place where the noise called him, and seeing his Master set upon by so many Enemies, he relieved him with much valour; but ere he came in, Hippolito had wounded two of those who were engaged against him, and laid the most desperate of them dead at his feet. The Rogues fought and defended themselves with such animosity as if they expected no Quarter, but though there had been a greater number of them then there was, they could have made no long resistance against the valiant Hippolito, seconded by a servant so courageous as his was. He afterwards dispatched another of his enemies, and the other two made a shift to escape. He was slightly wounded in one Arm, whereat he was so incensed, that he would needs pursue them, and it is not unlikely he would have disburdened the World of those two Villains, as he had done of their Companions, if, amidst the astonishment those lewd men were in, they had not bethought themselves of the only expedient they had left, which was, to make a fair jump of a whole pair of stairs, and to shut the door after them. Hippolito was a good while ere he could get it open, by which means the two murderers got away, and vanished, so that he and his Servant made a fruitless fearch after them. At last he returned to the Inn, and went up to the Chamber, where he thought he had heard Matilda's voice. He found it open, and empty, as were also all the other rooms in the house, which he searched with no less exactness then disquiet. Fulvio, said he to his Servant, I have heard Matilda speak, and I presently knew her by her voice, and none but a person damned to misfortune, as I am, would have missed her, after he had been so near her.  
He thereupon related to Fulvio the words he had heard Matilda speak, construed them as much as he could to his own advantage, as he had indeed some reason to do, and instead of deriving any comfort thence, his affliction was the rather augmented, out of a persuasion that Fortune had not done him the kindness to let him hear the voice of Matilda, out of any other end, then that from his not seeing her, and not knowing what was become of her, his discontent might be the greater. He thereupon went out again to make enquiry after the Princess in all the places thereabouts, and when he had done so, to as little purpose as before, he was so simple as to return back again to look for her in the Inn, where he met with an absolute solitude, unless it were in the Stable, out of which Fulvio brought four Horses, besides his Master's and his own.  
Hippolito left the Inn, the most disconsolate Person in the world; Fulvio proposed to him the carrying away of their Horses, who intended to have been their Murderers, as being lawful pillage, and represented to him, that possibly they might find Matilda, and so they should have a convenience to mount her, and what company she might have with her. Hippolito minded not what he had said, or vouchsafed not to make him any answer, so much were his thoughts o'erwhelmed with sorrow: Fulvio took his Master's silence for consent, and having fastened the four horses one to another by the tails, drove them before him, with a design haply to make money of them, with the first opportunity.  
They road up and down a good part of the day, ere Hippolito would so much as open his mouth to make any answer to the several questions put to him by Fulvio, to divert him from his sadness. They lost their way, and were got amongst a Company of barren Rocks, which seemed strangely shuffled together along the Seaside, at the end whereof there was a sandy plain. Amidst these rocks, at a place where the Sea made a little encroachment ●nto the Land more than at any other, they fell in amongst a company of Countrypeople, armed with Cudgels, Clubs, Pitch-Forks, Halberds, and what other Arms they could get. At first sight, they were somewhat surprised at the sudden appearance of two men on Horseback, and accompanied by so many unmounted Horses: but seeing their number so small, and deriving a confidence from the greatness of their own, which might amount to above a hundred men; they tumultuously surrounded those who haply had put them into a little fright, and directed the points of their rusty Arms against them. Some cried out, who goes there? Others, what are you? Others, down with them. Others, whence come you? It was a hard task for Hippolito to have answered so many Interrogatories put to him at once, and if he could have done it, the confused multitude, which made a noise greater than that of a Conventicle of infernal Spirits, at the consecration of a Conjurer, would not have heard him. At length, a certain ancient and grave person, who made it appear afterwards, that he had some command over them (for then there was nothing to be seen of it) with extraordinary calling upon them, which occasioned him a troublesome cough, as also with a few bastinadoes bestowed on some of them, caused a cessation of their talking so loud, though not of their grumbling. He comes up to Hippolito, and mildly asked him who he was, and what he sought in so solitary a place, and so far distant from the Road. Hippolito told him he was a Gentleman of Naples, and that he was going towards Ancona, but had lost his way. He thereupon asked the Commander in chief of that hastily-armed crew, upon what design he had got together so great a number of people; and he was informed by him, that certain Moorish Galiots, which had been seen cruzeing along the Coast had landed a considerable number of Soldiers, who had Pillaged some places near the Seaside, and upon the little opposition which had been made against them, or rather out of a covetousness of greater booty, were imprudently got further into the Country. He added, that most of those whom he saw in arms with him, had been plundered by them, and were resolved under his conduct to venture an engagement with them, as they returned loaden with slaves and pillage, from a Village where in all likelihood they would not leave behind them, but only what they could not bring away; that they must of necessity fall into their hands, there being but that only passage for them to get back to the Seaside; and that the loss of their goods did not so much animate those Peasants to that generous attempt, as that of their Wives and Children.  
Hippolito was so moved at the relation of the old man, that he proffered to expose his life in their quarrel. They took him at his word; and the old Blade resigned his command to him, which he accepted of, and he prevailed with his Companions to consent thereto, who from the gallant demeanour of Hippolito, derived no small confidence of their good success. They mounted the four horses which the precautious Fulvio had brought away from the Inn, with four of the most likely persons among them, whereof the old Blade was one. Hippolito divided his men into three parties; he posted one amongst the Rocks, where they could not be descried by their Enemies, with order they should not come out to fight, till they saw them and the enemies engaged: he planted another party in a narrow passage, which led to the Seaside, to prevent the coming up of the Infidels that way; and he himself with his Horse marched before the third party, exhorting his people to behave themselves valiantly, and to close with the enemies as soon as they could, so to prevent the advantage they might otherwise make of their Arrows.  
He had no sooner made an end of giving out his orders, after he had appointed his people their several Posts, but the enemy appeared, to the number of about a hundred and fifty men, in the midst whereof there marched several Horses loaden with booty, and followed by the Women and Children, whom they brought away as Slaves. The Moors, who expected not to carry off so considerable a booty without some blows, were not at all daunted to see Hippolito and his Troop marching up towards them, or haply slighted them by reason of the smallness of their number, nay possibly accounted them an augmentation of the prey. I shall not trouble myself, or Reader, with a particular description of an engagement between a party of Turkish Pirates, and a Company of Country people confusedly shuffled together, though the transcendent actions which Hippolito did, upon that occasion, deserved a recommendation to Posterity. I shall therefore only tell you, that his orders were punctually executed, that the Moors were prevented making any advantage of their Arrows, by his sudden falling in upon them; that he began their defeat, by the death of their Chief Commander, and put a period thereto by ridding out of his way, and the World, the most resolute among the Moors. The Peasants being by that time a little fleshed with their good success, knocked down without any mercy as well those who fought to the last Gasp, as those who laid down their Arms and cried Quarter, notwithstanding all the endeavours of Hippolito for a cessation of the Massacre. The dead were regretted, as much as the common joy would permit, and the wounded were looked to. Hippolito received a thousand acknowledgements, and as many thanks, from those poor people, who attributed all their success to his valour and conduct. While he was refusing the richest part of the spoils, whereof they would have made him a present, and would not do them the kindness to go along with them to refresh himself after his Victory, Fulvio brought up to him two Women, in Pilgrim's habit, whereof one had not sooner taken off her head a great broad-brimed Hat, which eclipsed all her face, but he found her to be his Mistress Matilda. He alighted, or rather fling himself down off his Horse, and cast himself at the feet of his Princess, who embraced him with such demonstrations of tenderness, as made him forget all the former disobliging returns he bade received from her, occasioned by the tyranny of the Prince of Salerna. This faithful Lover was not able to bethink himself of compliments pathetical enough to express the joy and satisfaction it was to him, that he had found her: never did he discover less eloquence in his discourse, and never could he have better persuaded what he desired, than he did then by the disorder of his thoughts, and the loss he seemed to be at, as to what he would have said.  
He was in suspense a while, whether he should acquaint Matilda with the pains he had taken in quest of her, and the excess of his modesty made him so reserved, as that he would have forborn making any advantage of what he had done, though he could not well have done so without being unjust to himself. Yet at last he assumed the confidence to give her a faithful account of all his adventures, ever since his departure from Naples, to look after her, and forgot not what had happened to him at the Inn, where he thought he had heard her voice.  
Matilda satisfied him how extremely sensible she was of these fresh obligations, which he had laid upon her, and told him, that she ought him her honour and her life, since the defeat of the Moors was the effect of his valour and conduct. She acknowledged it was no other than her self, whom he had heard so near him in the Inn; promised to acquaint him by what adventure she had been brought thither, and to give him a relation of what else had befallen her, when there were a fit opportunity to do it, and that she might do it without making others privy thereto.  
The other Female in Pilgrim's habit, who accompanied Matilda, was one of the Women that waited on her, named Julia, who only, of all her Servants, had been so faithful to her Lady, as to participate of her fortunes, and bore a share of whatever might happen to her. It is to be imagined that Fulvio and she considered that happy meeting as a kind of Jubilee; and for my part, I am apt to believe, that the compliments upon the rencontre were very pleasant and witty, and (if I may presume to venture upon a new expression) the subalternate discoveries of their eloquence were transcendent upon that occasion.  
The victorious Peasants, who had observed Hippolito, and Matilda's taking acqualntance one with another, renewed their proffers of entertainment to Hippolito; who then made no difficulty to accept of them, upon account of the Princess. Among others, the ancient Commander in chief, who, as I have already told you, had brought the Peasants into the field, and commanded the ragged Regiment, before Hippolito came up to them, entreated him and Matilda also, that he might have the honour to lodge them; which they granted him. He thereupon sent away one of his Sons, to take order for their reception, at a pretty convenient house, which he had at the next adjoining Village.  
'Twas now time to think of a departure thence, and the Victorious Army would have disbanded, had it not been thought civility to wait on Hippolito to his new Quarters. Matilda and Julia were mounted on the best Horses could be found. Among the many women who had been rescued out of the hands of the Moors, Fulvio took notice of one whom he conceived he had seen somewhere, and who would have avoided him, as if she had known him, and was unwilling to be known by him. At last he got near her, and knew her to be the Host's Wife, who would have murdered them at the Inn. He went and acquainted his Master with it, having first ordered some of the Peasants to take her into their Custody.  
Hippolito and Matilda with their retinue were entertained at the old Man's who was to be their Host, with all the kindness and good looks which could be expected from persons who thought themselves infinitely obliged, and would make all the expressions they could of their gratitude. The Peasants who lived in the same Village repaired to their own Houses, and those who lived at a greater distance took their way homewards, to enjoy themselves and be merry after their Victory.  
Hippolito ordered to be brought before him the Host's Wife, whom Fulvio had caused to be secured; and upon the first threats of imprisonment, she confessed, that their Inn was a Rendezvous of Bandits, and High-way-men; that her Husband held a correspondence with all such who haunted those parts, and that his refusal of entertainment to Hippolito at his first coming to their house proceeded from his expectation, that night, of a notorious Robber, Comrade to the Portuguese whom he had seen at the Inn, to confer together about a Robbery they intended to commit the next day. She further acquainted Hippolito, that the kindness which the Portuguese pretended to do in resigning him his Chamber, was only out of a design to rob and murder him that night. The Story gives no account of what was done to this woman, after she had discovered to them all they would have known of her.  
Suppertime drew on, and Hippolito and Matilda, the better to disguise their condition, would needs have Fulvio and Julia, the old man and all his family to sit down at table with them. After the repast (which I suppose was soon ended, because they had not had time to make great provision) Matilda would not suffer Hippolito to continue any longer in the impatience of being informed of her adventures, and having an account by what traverses of fortune she was brought to the Inn, and afterwards fell into the hands of the Moors.  
After the command I had received from the King to departed Naples, said she to him, and that through the great prevalence of my enemies, I had but that very night allowed me, to put myself into a readiness to comply with so rigorous an order, I implored the assistance of those about the Court, whom I thought I had obliged to be my Friends; but I found, to my regret, that they were only such to me proportionably to my prosperity. I had yet this greater affliction, that all my Servants forsook me, save only Julia. She had a Brother married in Naples, who proved so generous, as to quit his family and the concerns of his profession, upon the entreaty of his Sister, and to present his service, for my conduct, to what place I should pitch upon for my retreat. It is to his diligence I am to attribute it, that though the order for my departure from Naples was brought me with the night, yet I was in a readiness to leave it before the next morning. Our Pilgrim's habits of Loretto disguised us so, as that there was no notice taken of us at our going out at the Gates. I travelled that day as far as a young person of my Sex could have done, who was not wont to go much afoot; and we continued our Pilgrimage several days after, without any cross adventures. Yesterday, somewhat late in the Evening; we were met in a narrow passage by three men on Horseback, whose looks assured us they were engaged in some mischievous design. I would have shunned them, but did it with so much precipitation, and so unfortunately, that, my foot slipping, I fell down at their Horse's feet, which forced them to make a sudden halt. A great hat which covered my face, fell off my head; my Head-Cloaths were lose, and my Hair, wherewith I am well stored, came down over my face, and some part of my body. My misfortune would have it so, that those men observed somewhat in me which they fancied. They had some discourse together, and soon after alighted; one of them laid hold on Julia, another on me, and the third was engaged with Julia's Brother, who had put himself into a posture to rescue us, and whom we soon saw laid on the ground, run through the body with a Sword. From all the misfortunes that have happened to me, and which, of a Princess in all appearance happy, have reduced to the greatest miseries of any person in the World, I have reason to make this inference, that all humane prudence, and precaution cannot divert the designs of Fortune. We must let her take her own course, and assume a persuasion, that her inconstancy, which hath made us feel her malice, when we thought ourselves most in a condition to defy it, may restore us to her friendship, when we have least occasion to expect it. Upon this reflection am I fully resolved, continued Matilda, humbly to comply with Heaven's disposal of me; and according to that resolution was it, that, when I saw myself at the mercy of those unknown persons, I spared them the doing me any violence to get upon one of their Horses, since I doubted not but they would have done it by force; and that though I was fallen into their hands, yet death would deliver me out of them, if ever their insolence should constrain me to make use of that extreme remedy. Julia, who had lost her Brother in the encounter, could not for bear lamentations, yet suffered herself to be brought away in the midst of them, without any opposition. It was after night ere we got to the Inn, where you heard my voice. At the first hearing of your engagement with those Robbers, we were extremely frighted; but when you had forced them out of the Inn, and that we heard no further noise, Julia and I got out of the room where we were. The solitude we met with wherever we came, inspired us with a resolution to make our escape at a back door of the Garden, which happened to be open, and the fear of being overtaken and brought back again, obliged us to make all the hast we could to get away. We travelled all the remainder of that night, and a good part of the day, till the heat of the Sun and our own weariness, forced us to repose ourselves amongst certain Rocks, not far from this place, whither we were invited by the shadiness, and where we were found fast asleep by the Moors, whom you have this day so fortunately defeated.  
Matilda concluded the relation of her adventures with new protestations to Hippolito that she would never forget what he had done for her. She would not acquaint him with the place where she intended to make her retirement, nor did he press her to do it. Her designed refuge was to be at the house, or palace, of one o● those petty Princes of Italy, o● whom there is good store in that Country; for he that ha● money may soon be Highness there. 'Twere easy for me to create a title according to my own fancy, since the History names not him, at whose habitation she retired herself; but his name would not contribute any thing of beauty or advantage to my Relation. Hippolito proffered to conduct her to the place whither she intended to go; but she would not by any means permit him, and with as much ado was she persuaded, at the earnest entreaties of the officious Cavalier, to take his Servant Fulvio and his Horses, to carry her and Julia.  
I shall not here excite a sorrow in the compassionate Reader, by giving him an account how mournfully Hippolito took his leave of her. I shall, without giving him the trouble of any reflection of mine by the way, bring her to Ancona, where she sold some Jewels, and bring back the disconsolate Hippolito to the smoky ruins of his  house, whither he got without money, and of all his Estate having nothing he could call his own, but the Horse that was under him. He was hardly alighted ere he was accosted by a Gentleman of Naples, who was riding up and down at random, in quest of Matilda, as did also several others, whom the King had sent into all parts of Italy to find her out. He was informed by this Gentleman, how Rogero was fallen into disgrace; how Matilda's innocence came to be known and vindicated; the orders the King had granted for the finding of her out, and whatever else had passed at Naples, since he had left it, only he made not the least mention of the violent Love which the King had for Irene, which was generally known to all, and whereof this Cavalier gave Hippolito no information at all, either out of an excess of discretion, or for some other reason, which I know not. You may well imagine, that Hippolito, a person so generous as he was, and loving Matilda beyond himself, was extremely glad to hear of this revolution in her concerns, though he at the same time understood that his own made nearer and nearer approaches to the precipice of misfortune; the said Gentleman having assured him, that the King had promised the Prince of Salerna, that he and the Princess of Tarentum should secure their loves by the solemnities of marriage, as soon as she were returned to Naples.  
Hippolito intended to have made his appearance at Court, but he was so thunderstruck at this last news, that he resolved never to see it more. Nay his very life grew a burden to him, and he so shunned the conversation of all sorts of persons, that he last of all the Kingdom knew, that his Sister was looked on as the Beauty who had an absolute sovereignty over the King's inclinations.  
In the mean time, Matilda could not be found, and though the Gentleman, whom Hippolito met, had been at Ancona, where he told him that he had left her, yet could he not get any tidings of her, notwithstanding all the enquiry he had made after her. There was a report spread abroad of the death of that Princess, with all the particular circumstances of it, and that report came to the Ears of Hippolito, who took it so heavily, that he was very far in his way after her. But at length he recovered of the sickness it had put him into, and the indisposition of his mind abated proportionably to the reassumption of his strength and Spirits.  
He sometimes went abroad to take the air on Horseback along the Seaside, and it was in one of those disconsolate diversions of his thoughts, that, after several reflections made on the misfortunes of his life, he resolved to give it a period in the War, which some of the Grecian Princes were then engaged in against the Turks, who out of Asia began to make their incursions into Europe. But Matilda was at last found out, and Hippolito was so overjoyed thereat, that he bestowed his Horse, that is, all he had left him, on the person who brought him the news of it.  
The same day, his Servant Fulvio came and found him out, and was much astonished to see his Master so extremely cast down, and in very ill equipage, at a time when there was no other talk all over Italy, then of the great influence which his Sister Irene had over the King, and the affection he had for her. He acquainted Hippolito with the name of that Prince, at whose house Matilda had retired herself; how that Prospero was come thither from the King, with order to bring her back to Naples; and according to the commendable custom of Servants, of being overhasty to tell their Masters bad news, he represented, to his, the joy which Matilda expressed at the sight of Prospero, much greater than it was, and insisted particularly on the assurances of affection which she gave him. Nay, the expressions of her love towards him, added this indiscreet Servant, were so remarkable, that she would adorn herself with the old Hat, of which Prospero had sometime made her a present, which he had so often reproached her with, as an extravagance of his generosity, and which was so well known in Naples by the drollery it occasioned about the Court. I know not what Devil she had entrusted with the keeping of it, that it could be found so of a sudden against Prospero's coming thither, which I believe was little expected; but it may well be imagined she had a great esteem for it.  
With that honest Fulvio broke out into downright railing at the Princess of Tarentum, and that with so much invection and bitterness, that Hippolito was forced to command him to be silent, and possibly would have banged him, had he continued any longer speaking of her, without observance of that respect which he ought her. Fulvio told his Master further, that the Princess entreated him to meet her in the way to Naples. How! cries out Hippolito, is it not a sufficient affliction to me, that she loves me not, but she must add to that affliction, by obliging me to be an Eye-witness how much she loves another? Must I needs be present at her caresles of Prospero, purposely that he may have the satisfaction to see me die with grief, as if there wanted nothing but my death to complete their felicity? But— she must be obeyed, though it were only to see, to what extremity she can be unjust.  
He was in as good an humour to bemoan himself as man could be, and it is likely he would have acquitted himself of it proportionably to the occasion he had to do it, when he observes coming up towards him a considerable party of Horse, which Fulvio assured him was that which conducted the Princess of Tarentum, who out of a design to see Hippolito, had taken her way by his house, where she was in hopes to meet with him. And for that reason, though the King had sent some of his Coaches to meet her, yet was she resolved to make her entrance into Naples on Horseback.  
Prospero looking on himself as the best mounted, priding in his Plumes, as if he had been some Indian Emperor, thought it his place to ride next Matilda, who was not a little importuned with his old expressions of Courtship. But if the persecution had ended with them, her patience had not been so much exercised; she must also lend her attention, or pretend it, to some amorous Songs, and the relation of what remarkable things had happened at Naples since her departure thence, and what new Plays had been acted, and how they took.  
On the other side, Hippolito, melancholy to extremity, and making a discontented comparison, between his former magnificent appearances, and the mean equipage he was then in, would gladly have shunned the sight of Matilda and his Rival, especially being attended as they were by so great a concourse of people. But Matilda, who had him in her Eye at a great distance, and knew him, haply by reason of Fulvio, who had left her but a little while before, road up to him, which obliged Prospero and the rest of the Company to do the like.  
Matilda could not but observe how much Hippolito was surprised at her coming, yet, to make one further trial of his constancy, by reproaching him with a neglect in coming to meet her, and to congratulate that happy reverse of her condition. How! said she to him, is this Hippolito, the generous Hippolito, the best of my Friends, the noble rescuer of my Life and Honour, and not give me the meeting upon this strange turn of my destiny? How much am I the more obliged to these noble persons, who though they were invisible during the eclipse of my fortunes, yet have come so far to express their joy at the recovery of my former lustre? if I am not to consider their civilities as rendered rather to the Prince of Salerna, than myself. I have been so persecuted by the Goddess who rides not in the Chariot, but is turned about with the Wheels of it, that I do not think myself yet so far out of the reach of misfortune, as that I may not stand in need of an Hippolito, when I have the least hope or thought of his assistance.  
Hippolito had no answer to make, but to assure her by Oaths and protestations, that he had but just then heard of her happy return, adding withal, that if he had had intelligence of it sooner, he should have forborn meeting her, out of a fear, that a person so irrecoverably unfortunate, as he was, might have interrupted the public joy. This respectful reply begat a compassion in Matilda towards that faithful Lover, and that obliged her to assure him, that it would have much disturbed her particular satisfaction, if she had not meet with him. She thereupon desired him to participate of her good fortune, since he had shown himself the most concerned in her adversities; telling, him, that being now fully resolved to dispose of herself in marriage, as having found by woeful experiences, that a young Princess, destitute of Relations, stood in need of a Husband to vindicate and direct her; and that having already cast her Eye on him, whom she would make Prince of Tarentum, it was her desire, he would honour her with his presence at the Nuptials, which she would be very unwilling to have celebrated without him.  
Prospero imagining himself the person principally concerned in that affair, added his entreaties to those of the Princess, and, contrary to his custom, spoke with much civility to his Rival, accompanied with greater caresses than ever would have been expected from him. An unfortunate person, who despairs of seeing any period of his misery, explicates all things to his own disadvantage, as one desperately sick turns all manner of good aliment into poison, Hippolito entertained all these civilities and expressions of Matilda as new cruelties, which she would exercise upon him. He was not able to comprehend, how her heart could be so far petrified towards him, as to desire he would be a Spectator of the ceremonies of her Nuptials. He was absolutely at a loss what answer to make her, and could only look on her with a certain amazement. His faithful Servant Fulvio was as much scandalised at it, as he. He stood behind his Master venting his indignation in bitter curses, and wishes, that they had rather fallen by the hands of the Murderers, or the Moors, then be reduced to the extremities they were then in, and at last he presumed to whisper his Master in the Ear with an execrable Oath, that he should not go, and that Matilda was a person irrecoverably lost to all shame, to invite him to her Nuptials with Prospero.  
In the mean time, Hippolito could give no great attention to the advice of his Man, in regard Matilda reiterated her entreaties, and with so much importunity, that he could not deny her. She would have him immediately mount a Horse, which she had purposely ordered to be brought for him, and it may be, he was not then so well accoutred as to have his Boots on. Thus was Hippolito with many fair words courted a Horse back, but extremely out of countenance, and humour, riding of one side of Matilda, who on the other had the Prince of Salerna. The Princess satisfied that she had prosecuted her design so as to get his Company, made him the only subject of her discourse. She took occasion to discover how infinitely she was obliged to him, and gave all those, who were near enough to hear her, a particular relation of all the gallant actions performed by Hippolito, as well against the Robbers who intended to murder him at the Inn, as against the Moors, whom he defeated afterwards, with a small party of Peasants little acquainted with the business of fight, though the former had very much the advantage as to number.  
This discourse was perfect discord to the Ears of Prospero, and therefore to interrupt her, he must needs, how impertinently it matters not, bring in the story of his achievements, the night that Rogero was taken, and tell them, with what speed he had pursued that Calixtus, of whom we have elsewhere spoken, as one privy to the correspondence which that pernicious Minister held with the Enemies of his Prince. Matilda gave him no great attention, and still directed her discourse to Hippolito, though he made little answer to any thing she said to him. But Prospero, upon the least occasion, falling afresh upon the same discourse, would be heard, though with the dissatisfaction of those from whom he expected audience; and notwithstanding whatever others had to say, yet would he not have any thing heeded, but his insisting still on the important service he had done the State and Matilda, in running after that Calixtus, so great a privilege of talking did he assume to himself.  
He would have mortified the Company much longer with an account of that noble exploit, if the King had not appeared, attended by all the gallantry of both Sexes about Court and City. Prospero expressed much joy at the King's advance, as conceiving, the accomplishment of his happiness near at hand; Matilda and the Company looked on it as a welcome deliverance from his impertinent talk. He road up to the King, not knowing why he did it, and soon after returned again to Matilda, then to the King again, till at last, like a Muscovian Interpreter at the reception of a Foreign Ambassador upon the Frontiers, both parties were got so near, that he thought it time to present Matilda to his Majesty, though there was no necessity of his taking that trouble upon him. She was received by the King as kindly as she could have wished. He made his excuses to her, as to the violence and injustice had been done her; charged Rogero with all, and for reparation of the injuries she had received through the malicious contrivances of that disgraced Favourite, he bestowed on her one of the most considerable Counties in the Kingdom. Prospero, thinking himself obliged to make acknowledgements of that Princely boon no less than Matilda, would needs prevent her in the doing of it, but in the midst of his compliment brought in his adventure of running after Calixtus, as if the King had done it as much out of a consideration of that service of his, as the sufferings of Matilda. But Matilda, taking her turn to express her gratitude to his Majesty, acquitted herself so well, that the Audience were at a loss whether more to admire her humility, or her wit. I shall not here undertake to make a recital of the excellent expressions, whereby she discovered her resentments of the King's innocence as to all the disasters she had weathered out, and those of her own gratitude upon this unexpected liberality. I shall only tell you they had the general applause of all that were present, as I have been assured by creditable testimonies. Prospero observing that Matilda had done speaking to the King, who was casting his Eye about to see what other persons he might take notice of, would have added something to what she had said; but mistrusting it was more likely he would have come off with disgrace, he wisely forbore it.  
While the King, the Prince of Salerna, and Matilda were thus engaged, Irene was gone to Hippolito, whom her eye had singled out, though he stood behind several other persons; and perceiving she was out of the King's sight, she cast herself about the neck of that dear Brother, for whom she had shed so many tears, and could not even then forbear the doing of it. Hippolito who loved Irene no less than a Sister so amiable and obliging could deserve, entertained her with such demonstrations of affection and kindness, as might have raised a sympathy in those among the spectators whose hearts were most petrified into an insensibility of passion, so strangely was his, as it were, dissolved, at that happy interview. The King, having disengaged himself from Prospero, looked about for Irene, for he could not be long without her, and having perceived her with her Brother, his amorous impatience was such, that he would needs ride up to her. He treated not Hippolito as a simple Subject, when she presented him to his Majesty. Matilda, Camilla, Prospero, and what other persons of quality were got near the King, might easily observe that he spoke to Hippolito after such a manner, as argued that Cavalier was in a fair way to rise at Court. But all the King's kind expressions and looks were not powerful enough to dispel from his countenance, that cloud of sadness, wherewith it was overcast, by the serenity observable in that of his Rival, whose satisfaction seemed so great, that all others were dissatisfied thereat.  
In the mean time, the Sun darting his perpendicular rays on that Courtly Assembly, grew too warm for some heads among them, especially such as were most inclined to baldness, of whom such as wore Periwigs had then the advantage. All the Gnats, whose habitations are much about the Seaside; the flies that sported themselves about the adjacent places; those which waited on their Horses, who waited on the King from Naples; those also which had taken a greater Progress with those persons who accompanied Matilda; in fine, all those winged Infects, which we may call the Parasites of the Air, seemed to have appointed a Rendezvous at the place where these great persons met, with a design to torment both Horse and Man, as much as lay in their little power, and of those Horses, the most exposed to the animosity of the flies were such as had shortest tails. The Umbrelloes' indeed did in some measure secure, such as had them, against the heat of the Sun, but not against the reverberation of the scorched earth, and the Clouds of dust, which the Sistole and Diastole of the Lungs, commonly called Respiration, forced into the throats of most there, even of the King himself. In a word, the place was not maintainable any longer; but, to the greater persecution of those, who were most unmercifully treated by the Sun and the Flies, the King thought no time long to be where Irene was, nor had he yet disburdened himself of all he had to say to Matilda. He therefore spoke to her, loud enough to be heard by those who were within any convenient distance of him, in these terms; for I have the relation of this passage, verbatim, as I may say, from one who took what the King said, word for word, by the Art of Memory, the time and place being very unfit for the doing of it by Characters.  
Fair Princess of Tarentum, said he to her, the persecutions you have suffered under my Reign, and, as I have already acknowledged, in some measure by my orders, I must confess have been very great; and the reparation I have made you argues how far I am satisfied of the injustice of your sufferings; yet shall I not think myself fully acquitted, till I have endeavoured, to the utmost of my power, to contribute as much to your future felicity, as I have done to your past misfortunes. It is not therefore enough, in my apprehension, that I have declared you innocent, that I have reinstated you, in all that had been unjustly detained from you, and that I have made an unexpected augmentation thereof, if I gain not your concurrence with the inclinations which the Prince of Salerna hath to join with you in Matrimony. It is by the recommendation I make you of this Prince, that I hope to cancel some part of my obligations towards you, and it is by your acceptance of him, that I make account to recompense him, for the important services he hath done this State.  
Ah! my Liege, replied Matilda, be pleased to be so cautious in your desires of being just to Matilda, as that you be not unjust to Prospero. Acknowledgements may have their excesses as well as ingratitude. You would not reward the Prince of Salerna proportionably to his merit, by only bestowing on him the Princess of Tarentum; and by making me a present to that great Prince, you would bestow on me more than I have deserved. I am satisfied with your Majesty as far as it is possible I should be, and these last demonstrations of your munificence, wherewith you have honoured me, upon a consideration of my misfortunes, are so dear to me, that they will henceforward be the most pleasing object of my reflections. If therefore, your Majesty be so conscientious in making satisfaction where you conceive yourself obliged, and since Subjects ought to regulate their actions according to the examples given them by their Prince, will not your Majesty give me leave, now that I am in condition and ability to acquit myself, to do it without any further delay, and to make my satisfaction proportionable to the services which have been done me? Approach then, brave and generous Hippolito, said she to that Cavalier, turning herself towards him, and make your acknowledgements of my gratitude, after you have so long had cause to complain of my want of it. You have obliged me, by a love of many years standing, a love so violent, that all the traverses of my fortune, all the disasters that have happened to me, nay all my disdains have not been able to check into any remission. I am indebted to you, besides the vast expenses which that constant passion put you upon, besides the greatest part of your estate spent in the vindication of my quarrel, for your fair House, which was burnt upon my account. I am further to acknowledge that I own you my honour and my life, which were in danger amongst Robbers and Moors; and I own you also the life, which you hazarded to rescue me out of their hands. I am as desirous, generous Hippolito, to acquit myself of all these obligations, as I have been willing to acknowledge them: but those which I have received from Prospero, as being the more ancient, are more pressing upon me, and may justly claim precedence of yours.  
Hippolito grew pale at these last words of Matilda; but presently, that paleness dislodged, and a sudden Scene of blushing succeeded, as if he had summoned all his blood and Spirits into his face. Prospero looked on him with a smiling countenance, but whether it proceeded from pity or a secret insultation, none had the time to guests at: and composing his countenance into an amorous posture to look on Matilda, he received her thoughts of him, and his pretensions to her, in these terms.  
Prince of Salerna! you have taken much trouble upon you to induce me to a persuasion that you loved me from my Childhood; I am convinced, and have found, that you have always treated me like a Child, You always made it your business to keep her in awe, whom you called your little Mistress, and you have perpetually amused her with trifling Stories and Songs, or persecuted her with your checks and reproaches, and this at a time, when she expected more important services from you. In a word, the greatest demonstration of Love you ever thought fit to make her, amounted only to a plume of old Feathers, worn by you, haply ere she was born, which she promised you to keep, and now makes it appear, that you cannot charge her with any breach of her word. With that, she took off her Head the Hat, wherewith the Prince of Salerna had sometime presented her, and making him a return of the same present, she put this period to her discourse. Dreadful Prince of Salerna! the noble expressions of your Love, Words, and Feathers, I here requite, by giving you a return of the like; they may prove more fortunate in your future Addresses to some other Beauty than they have done to me, who thus disengaged from you, bestow myself on Hippolito, and, by that UNEXPECTED CHOICE, make him Prince of Tarentum, and account all I have little enough to satisfy my obligations to him, whom of all men I have found the most generous. She thereupon gave the Prince of Salerna his own fatal Hat, with one hand, and with the other fastened on that of the despairing Hippolito, who thenceforward ceased to be such and as little looked for that unexpected happiness, as Prospero did for his Hat and Feathers.  
The King and all there present were not a little surprised at this strange turn; but when he considered how much Irene was concerned in that fortunate advancement of her Brother Hippolito, and the justice which was remarkable in the action of Matilda, he could not forbear approving it: And the commendation he thereupon gave that Princess, for her generous choice, kept the Prince of Salerna from falling into those impertinences, which possibly his passion might otherwise make him guilty of. For no question but this Satirical discarding of him by Matilda, when he so little imagined any such disaster near him, and before so eminent a concourse of noble persons, struck him so to the heart, that he knew not which way to turn himself, such a conflict of shame, confusion, and distracted thoughts was there apparent in his very countenance. Nay he was so exasperated against Matilda, that he would have vented his indignation in railing at her, according to his magisterial custom of treating her, if the fear of displeasing his Prince, and the concern of his estate had not checked his natural insolence. His disturbance was so observable, that the King took pity on him, and presenting Camilla to him, after he had had some private discourse with her and Irene, he told Prospero, that so beautiful a Lady as she was, with all the estate and advantages, which her Brother Rogero had some time been possessed of, might in some measure make him reparation for the loss of Matilda.  
While the King was obliging the Prince of Salerna by this new overture, the whole Court was got about Matilda and Hippolito, wishing them all the joys consequent to the just choice she had made of that faithful Lover. They were both of them put to the extremities of their eloquence to make returns answerable to the compliments they received upon that occasion; and no question, at the long run, they would have been forced to repetitions: but the King came up very seasonably to their relief. Fair Princess of Tarentum, said he to Matilda, I am now convinced, that nothing argues a juster desert of greatness, than the imitation of great examples. Such have you given me in your choice of Hippolito, and requital of those services of his, whereof he hardly imagined that you had any remembrance. Irene is a person I conceive myself infinitely obliged to, upon the account of her beauty and that of her virtue; and, according to your example, I make her the greatest acknowledgements I can thereof, by making her this day Queen of Naples.  
This so unexpected a declaration of the King had such an effect on that noble Assembly, as it is more easy to imagine then express; and they were all more surprised at it, then at that of Matilda. Irene, falling down at the King's feet, expressed her humility and resignation, by her respects and silence. The King took her up, contenting himself then only with a kiss of her hand, and from that time treated her not otherwise then if she had been the greatest Queen in the World. They took their way towards Naples, where all hands and wits were set on work about the preparatives for the King's Nuptials, who ordered a short prorogation of those of Hippolito and Matilda, Prospero and Camilla, that one and the same day might be remarkable in all subsequent computations of time, for the solemnisation of those three illustrious marriages. The King never had the least occasion to repent him of the choice he had made of Irene. Matilda, who was of so amorous a disposition, as to have loved the Prince of Salerna, much beyond what he deserved, and that upon no other account then that he had been the first who had presented himself to be loved by her, had an affection for Hippolito consonant to the seasonable services he had done her, and the sincere Love whereby he was animated to the performance of them. On the other side, Hippolito could make no greater acknowledgements of that Unexpected Choice, which, of the most disconsolate, had made him the most fortunate of all Lovers, then by loving her as entirely, now that he was her Husband, as he had done whilst a Gallant. Only Camilla was unfortunate in her match with Prospero: she durst not refuse him, out of a fear of incurring the King's displeasure, who had promised Irene, that he would inflict no other punishment on Rogero, then that of a departure out of his territories. And so, to save her Brother's life, she made her own unhappy, by marrying an impertinent and a jealous Prince, who was thought ridiculous enough before his Addresses to Matilda, but, after her discarding him, with so remarkable an affront, became the scorn and derision of the Neapolitan Court.  
FINIS.