TUDOR, A PRINCE OF WALES. An Historical Novel. In TWO PARTS.  
LONDON, Printed by H. H. for Jonathan Edwin, at the Sign of the Three Roses on Ludgatehill. 1678.   

Licenced.  
Feb. 1. 1678. ROGER L'ESTRANGE.   

TUDOR, A PRINCE of WALES.  
An Historical Novel.  
The First Part.  
IT was about the Time when the War which had continued for so many Ages between the English and Welsh, seemed to be put to an end; and that these latter were believed for ever unable to retrieve their losses, or defend their pretensisions; That Owen Tudor, one of their Princes, and whose Lineage they deduced from Cadwalladar an ancient British King, endeavoured to mount the Throne. He found it no difficult matter to persuade the Welsh to rise in Arms; and that people dissatisfied with their new Masters, were ready to shed the last drop of their Blood in attempting to shake off that Yoke. Tudor was glad to find them so well inclined to the Execution of his desires; but their Aid seeming too weak fully to support his hopes, he betook himself to the Protection of the Kings of France and Scotland, who resolved to second him in his enterprises.  
Henry the Fourth, newly Crowned King of England, no sooner understood of the powerful League that was form against him; but that he on his part prepared vigorously for War; and having raised an Army of Forty thousand men, he marched towards Scotland at the head of it, where he met the enemy drawn up on the Borders. He offered them Battle, which was accepted; but the Scots had the worst of the day; Tudor was fain to fly for it; and the Earl of Doughlas, who commanded the Scots, was made Prisoner by Henry. The loss of that Battle put the Affairs of the Welsh Prince into a bad condition; and finding no other support but in the friendship of Charles the Sixth King of France; he retreated into his Dominions: where that Monarch received him more favourably than he could have expected in his adversity. The Grandees of the Kingdom imitated their Prince, and had so great respect for the merit of Tudor, that their civilities were sufficient to have made him forget all his losses, if he had proposed to himself any thing but Glory. But it is very hard for such Souls as are born to command, to find satisfaction any other way than in the submission and obedience of Provinces; and that Prince would have willingly preferred the Crown of Wales, to all the Favours and Civilities which he received at the Court of Charles. Wherefore, he did all he could to procure from him assistance: But France was not at that time what before it had been; and after the unlucky accident which befell their King, and is mentioned in History, the Kingdom was so rend by the different interests of the Princes of the Blood, that it had enough to do to maintain itself.  
Tudor thus crossed in his designs, bore his misfortune, but not without much impatience; yet that was not all: Fate had new troubles in reserve for him; and he had never been sensible of the utmost effects of ill fortune, if he had not felt the pains which commonly attend a great but hopeless Love.  
Charles had several Children by his Queen Isabella of Bavaria; and Catharine his youngest Daughter was justly esteemed one of the greatest Beauties, and most lovely persons that hath ever been. The Lustre of her presence surprised all that beheld her; and her Actions were accompanied with so many Charms, that no heart was proof against her merit: Her Body was not inferior to the Beauties of her Countenance; and in a word, she seemed to have been framed on purpose to inspire into Hearts the tenderest of Passions.  
Tudor at first beheld her with admiration; but seeing his Fortune had no Conformity with high designs, his reason at that time retained its authority; and that Prince's thoughts were taken up as much at least with the sense of his Calamities, as with the Consideration of the perfections of Catharine. However he had a Heart like other Men; and he must needs have been of a very savage disposition; if seeing daily the Princess, he had not been affected by her Beauty. He began to be a little more Melancholic than he used to be; or to say better, he changed his Melancholy into a sweet and restless pensiveness, and such as men commonly fall into when a great passion begins to seize them. He well percieved in himself this change of humour, and was displeased thereat; yet not so much as he would have been, had he fully known the cause of it. However he made some reflections on the complaisance that he had for the Princess; and seemed indeed to have touched the right string, when he helped to beguile himself: In effect, after so many marks of goodness as Catharine had showed him, he thought there could be no great danger in those little offices which he rendered her; and which he believed to be rather testimonies of Gratitude than Love; but the effects which great obligations produce, are easily known; and though they make deep impression on generous Souls, yet all things have their limits; and it is no hard matter to distinguish that which flows from Love, from the effects of a Heart that is only grateful. Neither did Tudor long continue in his error; and the earnest desire he had to be in all places where Catharine was, convinced him that civility did not commonly lead men so far; but that some extraordinary matter must needs have invaded his thoughts. That consideration made him afraid; so that endeavouring to prevent the troublesome consequences that might ensue from it, He employed all means to stifle his Affection in the Birth; and proposed to his own Imagination every thing that might represent to him the fatal effects of that attempt. But none, but such as have never been in Love, can think that from such like enterprises any success is to be expected; and experience does too plainly evince, that Love is like to those snares, wherein the more men strive to get out, the more they entangle themselves.  
Tudor had the same Fate as others have had; and all his reasonings served only to render him more Amorous. The Charms of Catharine presenting themselves in vast numbers to his memory, he conceived so agreeable an Idea of the Princess' perfections, as suddenly got the absolute Victory over his weakness. He found a Thousand delights in the conversation of that fair one; and in her Company he so much forgot the thoughts os all his misfortunes, that his greatest care was how he might appear agreeable to her Eyes. He was no more Tudor whom ambition tormented Day and Night; and that Passion which had so cruelly racked his Heart, since the first time that he had given way to it, gave place to those Sentiments, which to tender and affectionate Souls have far greater charms than the most glorious and magnificent Crowns. But how, said that Prince sometimes to himself: Dost thou consider, Tudor, what thou art about to do? what course is this thou art like to follow? Do Conquerors propose to thee this way to subdue thine enemies? what a shame is it for a Prince continued he, to give way to his pleasures, when his chief care should be to remount the Throne; and what a Joy will it be to Henry, when he shall understand that Tudor delights in servitude, at the same time when all his endeavours should be to shake off his Fetters. But thou art mistaken, Owen! replied he immediately; thy desires are not to be condemned; and may not there be as much Policy as weakness in them; if they be rightly considered? is it not natural to implore the assistance of Neighbours when strength is wanting at home? and where canst thou imagine to find greater support than in an Alliance with Charles, if thou couldst be so happy as to obtain it?  
But these thoughts were not so well confirmed in his mind, as to banish all his troubles and distrust. He began to reflect on the greatness of Catharine, and his own misery; and was not so blinded with self-love, but that he knew very well that such a Princess as she was, merited all that he could pretend to, though he had been actually possessed of Ten Provinces; each of them as great as that for which he had taken Arms. He resolved therefore to suffer without speaking: and as there is nothing so bitter as desires without hopes, so it is not easy to conceive the pitiful estate to which he was reduced. He resolved oftener than once to retire from Court; but having cast his Eyes upon all the places whither he might convey his wretched Fortune, he found every where so little security for his person, that necessity obliged him to remain where he was.  
It was soon perceived that his sadness was extraordinary; but every one knew the condition of his Affairs: and they were desperate enough to hinder any from suspecting other grounds of his discontents, than what were visible to all men. All made it their business to comfort him; and Catharine herself, who felt a kind of affectionate pity for that Prince, which she had never before felt for any, told him, that one should not be so much dejected at the accidents of Fortune; seeing daily experience made appear, that nothing was more fickle and unconstant, and that he should be persuaded, that she often heaped her favours on him whom she had immediately before oppressed with afflictions.  
Tudor answered as he ought to that obliging Discourse of the Princess; but being resolved not to discover to her the secrets of his heart, thought it enough to hint to her in the general, that his troubles were far different from what she believed; and that the greater ambition one had for high matters, the more lamentable it was to see one's self out of hopes of attaining to them.  
Their conversation was not very long; but as it served to poison the wounds of Tudor, so it began to work strange effects in the Heart of Catharine: for seeing pity does insensibly accustom us to tender Sentiments, that Princess did habituate herself to a gentle compassion for Tudor; and thought herself only affected with his misfortunes, when she became sensible of his merit. That Prince was indeed endowed with most engaging qualities; for besides the excellent Beauty and Comeliness of Body, he possessed a gentile and pleasant Wit, which easily insinuates, and contributes as much to the Conquest of Hearts, as all the sparkling Lustre of the World. The Princess on her part fell likewise into a kind of pensiveness; and if Tudor had taken that opportunity to speak to her of his Love, she would certainly have heard him with pleasure; and that wretched Prince would have found some comfort to his miseries, in the kind usage that he might have received from her. But he flattered not himself so much, as to venture on speaking; and thought it enough to give evidence of his passion by his Assiduities and Services. In the mean while the Princess took particular notice of his deportment; and I cannot tell whether Tudor were more amorous, or Catharine more grateful. But their procedure added more than one half to their affliction: and they had long felt all the pains of Love, without tasting of its sweetness, if the death of the King of England had not given them occasion, by that which happened afterward, to make known to one another their mutual Sentiments.  
After the death of that Prince, his Son Henry the Fifth succeeded to the Crown. He set himself at first to the procuring of his Subjects quiet; and having ordered all things at home, resolved to make War, or else to establish a good and solid peace with France. He sent Ambassadors to Charles, with propositions of some accommodation betwixt them, concerning the differences that his Father had always had with him during his Reign; and at the same time demanded the Princess Catharine his Daughter in Marriage.  
The Ambassadors were no sooner arrived at Paris, but that all people knew the cause of their coming. Tudor took the alarm very hot; and the Princess was so troubled at the overture, that she could not forbear to make appear her aversion to the Marriage. She was observed to weep incessantly; and one day when Tudor went to pay her a visit, he found her upon the Bed, overwhelmed with such grief as could not be matched. He saluted her with much respect; and drawing near, What is the reason, Madam, said he, of so great dejection? and do these lovely Eyes think it time to look sad, when they ought to sparkle with the glory of their Conquests? It is true, continued he, all the Crowns of the Earth have nothing that comes near your merit: Nevertheless there are Charms in a Diadem; and a Princess may rest satisfied with the Crown of England, without fear of being suspected to want a noble Ambition? Were I like Tudor, answered she coldly, I know very well that I should sacrifice all other interests to Ambition; and that the concerns which one ought to have for Relations should not much perplex me: But seeing my temper is different from his; neither can I agree with him in opinion; and perhaps Mine— Ah, how are you mistaken, Madam! in thinking so, said the Prince interrupting her; and how little do you know Tudor, if you think that the desire of Reigning is all his Passion? I confess, continued he, the time has been, when I was only ambitious; but there happen many changes in one's life; and it is very hard amidst the Beauties which are to be found at the Court of France, to entertain no other desires but for glory; or rather it is very difficult not to forget it absolutely, when one begins to feel an inclination for a lovely Lady. You do indeed surprise me, answered the Princess; and I should never have suspected that you were in love. One is often mistaken, replied Tudor; but I intent to undeceive you, and make you acknowledge that I am much more to be pitied than you think of. You know, Madam, continued the Prince, that the misfortune of War having obliged me to fly for refuge to the Court of the King your Father; I was no sooner arrived here, but that I found what I had never seen elsewhere. The men appeared to me extremely civil and well bred; and the Ladies (to my Fancy) performed all they set about with so good Air, that I thought other Country's destitute of the Politeness which was to be found in France. I made it my work to observe things more narrowly, that I might from them frame to myself a pattern for my conduct; but how dangerous is it so attentively to consider objects of great worth! I saw a lovely Brown, who ravished me with her charms, and robbed me of my Heart: Pardon me, Madam, if I tell you not all her Amiable qualities; for it is above my power: and nothing but my Heart is able to tell itself, how many are her charming perfections. I will only assure you by the by, that never was Lady more Beautiful, nor Witty; and that as there is none in the World so accomplished, so never was Passion more respectful and sincere than the Love I have for her.  
With these words the Prince held his peace; and the Princess, who had Love enough for him to make her conceive some jealousy by that Discourse, being desirous to discover who that Rival was: I perceive said she, Tudor, you are discreet in your Amours; for having told us the perfections of your Mistress; you are pleased to conceal from us her name, and your own happiness. It is not for the reason that you imagine, Madam, answered Tudor, that I tell you no more. I understand myself; and that was enough to keep me from having farther proceeded with the person of whom I spoke. In effect, so great is the difference betwixt her merit and the defects of Tudor, that I think he will never so much mistake himself as to dare speak to her of his passion. That Lady must needs be of great quality, replied Catharine, (being desirous to engage him to declare himself) that a Prince stands in so great awe of her; and for my part, I know none that should oblige him to so great a reserve. I am not of your opinion, Madam, replied Tudor; and to my grief, I know one who deserves that one should do greater matters for her. But what do you mean by that? replied the Princess. I mean, Madam, answered Tudor, that my actions should make her sensible of my Love rather than my words; and my satisfaction would be great, if by all the ways of respect and submission, I might ever engage that fair one to pity me.  
The Princess who imagined not before, that Tudor designed her by his Discourse, began now to suspect it; and being willing to inform herself: Prince, said she; this way of reasoning is not just; if I were in your place, I should take another course; and a Lover that by his silence can work upon his Mistress, never disobliges her by declaring his Love, when he does it with all civility and respect. In this, Madam, answered the Prince, I have some doubts of your sincerity; and perhaps you would be the first to take it ill, if such a thing happened.  
These words confirmed the Princess more and more in her suspicion; she was desirous to have no more ground of doubting; and speaking again: Tudor, said she, I perceive you know me not; I never speak but what I think; and the aversion that I have made appear to the Marriage lately proposed to the King my Father, aught to convince you that I am an Enemy to all kind of dissimulation. That Discourse made Tudor change his design of concealing his Love; he found that he could never meet with so fair an occasion of declaring himself; and laying hold of the opportunity offered him by Fortune, Well then, Madam, replied he, I must believe you; for indeed it would be too hard for me to keep myself longer under constraint; and it is my duty to acknowledge my rashness, in declaring that I adore you; and that none but the Princess Catharine could ever touch the Heart of the Prince of Wales. Believe it, Madam, this Heart is immovable to all but yourself; and it is my Fate that a King of England should strip me of all my felicities: but let him freely enjoy the fruits of my overthrow, provided he suffer me to enjoy the sight of my dearest Princess.  
Tudor said no more; but made appear to Catharine so much Love in his Looks, that she could no longer listen to the residue of an expiring stateliness, which would have obliged her to disguise her Sentiments. She made known to him, by a Glance, the Flame that was in her Heart; and at length overcoming her own humour: Alas! why did you not speak sooner, said she; and why have you delayed so long to discover to me a matter which at another time would have pleased me so well? Believe it, Prince, continued she, I would willingly have heard you; and perhaps had I never known you I should not have had so great an Aversion to match with England. But after so free a confession, entertain no sinister Judgement of me; make use of it only to break off my Marriage: consult your Friends, and so manage Affairs that there may be a stop put to an Alliance, which if it take effect, will cost me the quiet of my whole Life. Ah! Madam, answered Tudor; how happy do you make me, by the goodness which you show me! but how short will this happiness prove by the obstacles I foresee therein! For in a word, what can I do in this conjuncture? you know that the House of Orleans has at present the advantage of that of Burgundy, to which I have addicted myself; and that I have no authority with those that determine Affairs of that nature. But have you yourself no power left, continued he, to oppose that which thwarts your inclinations: and must you demand assistance from one who expects his relief from you? What would you have me do, replied the Princess; and are you so ignorant of the duty of Persons of my Quality, as not to know my Inability? No, Tudor, expect no more from me; I have an esteem, and perhaps something more for you; but I shall suffer myself to be led to the Sacrifice, if it be so resolved; and I had rather have it said, that Catharine is Unfortunate; than that she should be accused of failing in her duty. Well then, Madam, replied Tudor, it is your pleasure that I die; I must obey you; and that is indeed the only ease I find in my calamities. Oppress me no more, replied the Princess; it is not well done to increase my sorrows: Bestir yourself rather, if you Love me. Love has many secret ways of succeeding in enterprises, and there is nothing impossible to those who truly feel it.  
Here ended the Conversation of those two Amorous Persons; they parted fully satisfied with one another; but with small hopes of a better Fortune. In the mean time Tudor spread reports at Court, that the Marriage of Henry and Catharine, was no ways advantageous for France, That that Prince was but the Son of an Usurper; that the House of York, which was dispossessed of the Crown, was still strong enough to regain the Sceptre; and that in Fine the last words of the dying King to his Son, should make him rather think of giving back what he had gotten, than of demanding such ridiculous matters as were proposed by his Ambassadors. I cannot tell whether these rumours that were in every body's mouth, made any impression on the Counsel; or that the pretensions of the King of England seemed not very reasonable. But in a word, his Ministers returned without effectuating any thing. It is hard to imagine how great the joy of our Lovers was; but they failed not to make it known to one another in its full extent; and by mutual assurances of Love began to forget their past troubles, when of a sudden they found themselves more than ever exposed to the cruelty of Fortune.  
Henry incensed at the refusal of giving him Catharine in Marriage, levied a powerful Army. He landed in Normandy, where he put all to Fire and Sword; and having taken some places by the way, he marched towards Calais. He fought a great Battle at Agincourt, and obtained the Victory: afterward he wasted all Picardy; laid Siege to the City of Rouen; and there was no doubt but that he would have carried it, had not they who had the Administration of the Affairs of France, being surprised at so many Conquests, endeavoured in good earnest to find means to put a stop to that Victorious Prince. And finding no more ready remedy for the Calamities that threatened their Country, than to appease the Rage of the Conqueror; Ambassadors were sent to his Camp to beg Peace of him, and to offer him Catharine.  
This was a cruel Blow for our Lovers; and the sorrow that appeared on their Countenance, gave signs enough, if it had been observed, that both were extremely troubled. Well then, Princess, said Tudor one day to Catharine, now is the time come that I must lose you; and Fate has only given me a little Reprieve to let me know the greatness of that felicity which it had appointed for another? Why have you not been altogether Cruel? Continued he; or rather why are you but kind by halves; and how can it be that one tenderly Loves, as you profess, and in the mean time resolves to forsake the beloved object? Ah! Tudor, be sparing in your censures, replied the Princess; my afflictions are too great that I should need other pressures; and your reproaches are too unjust that I should suffer them, and survive my grief. Let us be unhappy, if Heaven hath so decreed; but let us not contribute any thing that may make us lose the esteem which we have for one another: You in giving me Counsels that go against my Reputation; and I in listening to them. I am already but too much inclined to believe you, continued she, to make me distrust my strength; and I have so often represented to myself the pleasure that I might have had in living with you, that I am much afraid I shall project to myself nothing but horrors with all besides yourself: if you still persist to bring them to my mind. Help me rather to overcome myself; and believe, Prince, that this is the occasion wherein one really deserves pity; seeing, after all the effects of my Virtue, I stand in need still of assistance to overcome my weakness. I confess, Madam, answered the Prince, I must admire you for these Sentiments, and grant them to proceed from the most generous Princess that ever was; but grant me likewise, that if I have not so great a Soul, yet I have perhaps more tenderness than you have. I am in the wrong, added he, to press you so much; and it is misbecoming a Prince who has no other Fortune but in his hopes, to desire to snatch from a Princess a Crown which is in her offer: it has certainly more charms than one is aware of; and it must needs be of small value, if it were to be forsaken for the forlorn estate of Tudor.  
These words which he uttered with some sullenness, made the Princess sensible he was jealous; she was willing to cure him of that fatal passion; and looking on him with an obliging Aspect, What is it, Prince, said she, that you suspect me of; and what signs of Ambition have I given you, that you should think me so much inclined to it, as you make me to be? Banish such thoughts far from you, if you love your own repose; and if you will give yourself any trouble for mine, hinder the success of that Treaty which is to be set on foot at the interview of the two Kings. You may do somewhat in that matter; and you are in so good terms with the House of Burgundy, which is now again restored to the Government of the State, that with the help of that Family you may hope to succeed in your undertaking. These words reassured the Prince, who casting himself at her feet, Pardon, Madam, said he, an Unfortunate Lover, who knows not whom to blame for his Calamities; and consider that it is very difficult to be deeply in Love, and not to be a little jealous. Believe me, my dear Princess, I shall employ all the Friends I have to hinder that fatal Marriage: and I have so great interest in it, as may, I think, make you believe that I shall omit nothing which may contribute to its repture.  
At the same time he took leave of her, and went strait to the Palace of the Duke of Burgundy; where he found that Prince more afflicted for the Calamities of France than he expected; and perceiving him resolved to employ his utmost endeavours to hinder its ruin, I rejoice, my Lord, said he, at your good intentions; and doubt not of the Kingdom's safety, now that you make it your care: But remember that there depends much on diligence in preventing a disadvantageous Treaty, to which the weakness of the King will it may be oblige him; and which will not be easily remedied if once concluded. You have reason, Prince, answered the Duke of Burgundy; but there are many things to be done before I can be in a condition to act as I should. What greater matters are to be done then, replied Tudor; and if you were reconciled with the Dolphin, might ye not Unite your Forces, and make head against the common Enemy of your Country? Yes, answered the Duke; but the difficulty will be, to bring us to good terms together: I shall endeavour it, if you please, replied Tudor; and am persuaded that I shall not meet with so many Lets in it as you imagine. You will thereby oblige me, replied the Duke, and I shall be always ready to do all that my honour and duty can allow.  
Tudor thereupon left him that he might go to the Dolphin; and having found him in the same disposition that he had left the Duke of Burgundy in, he made them Friends in appearance, and retarded for some time at least his own misfortune.  
The reconciliation of these two Princes put France in some hopes again: Yet it hindered not but that the two Kings upon a cessation of Arms, attended by the chief of their Court, met in the Park of Meulan; where they resolved to have a conference for facilitating the peace. The Queen followed after, and carried the Princess with her. The English beheld her with admiration; and there were but few of them that found not by experience how dangerous it is too narrowly to consider an amiable person. But amongst all those who admired her Beauty, no man was certainly more sensibly smitten than the Duke of Gloucester; that Prince, who was Brother to the King of England, and, by his Rank and Quality at Court, had the greatest share in the management of Affairs, no sooner viewed Catharine, but was charmed by her perfections. He resolved at first to acquaint her with the Sentiments he entertained for her; and seeing the marriage of the Princess was to be one of the first Articles of the Treaty then in agitation, he thought he had no time to lose in taking a good resolution. And therefore having rendered a visit to the Queen, he discoursed with Catharine in a place where their conversation could not be overheard. It is so hard, Madam, said he to her, to see you, and not to feel some particular emotion; that I think I shall not much surprise you, when I tell you, that you have before you a Prince who is absolutely at your disposal. It is not, added he, by the multitude of words that I pretend to make good what I say; my actions shall far better make known to you my Sentiments, than all the discourses that I can make. Consider only, Madam, wherein you think fit to employ me; and believe that I have so much authority in the Conference that is held to day, as to sway matters to what side I shall incline.  
The Princess was surprised at that Compliment; and having expected no such thing, nor well understood the meaning of it, she was for some time put to a plunge, what answer to make to the Duke: But having at length paused upon it a little, Really Prince, said she, you are the most obliging person alive. It is seldom found that enemies offer to turn their arms against themselves; however you run no Risk on this occasion, I am none of those that will, to your cost, make advantage of your civilities, and study the interest of my Country by an action which would somewhat diminish your glory. I perceive, Madam, answered the Duke, that I have not expressed myself so as to be understood. It is not in favour of the King your Father, that I have offered you my Services in this place; and I am less concerned for the Interests of my Prince's Crown, than for those of his heart. It is needless, I think, to explain myself more clearly: consult about that which may affect yours; and if the designs which Henry hath on your person, have nothing in them that can flatter you; I make no difficulty, Madam, to tell you, I know how to satisfy you; and a Prince who would give his life to contribute in the least to your content, will not find great difficulty to divert the blow which may render you unhappy. I am still more obliged to you than I thought, replied the Princess; since you confine to me alone the Sentiments which I extended to others. But in fine, Prince, though my inclinations were contrary to the Alliance that is in agitation to day, you know that it would be undecent for me to discover them, and that a Princess of my quality ought with pleasure sacrifice herself to the public good. Have a care, Madam, of being mistaken, replied the Prince, and embrace not the shadow of virtue, for virtue itself. I know very well, added he, that when one hath once made a choice, all pains are to be endured rather than to give any mark of repentance; but the case is not a like in a matter that is not as yet concluded: and until it be finally ended, we may forbear such things as would cost us the repose of our Life, if we did them contrary to our inclination. There is nothing, Sir, an-answered Catharine, which is inconsistent with the inclination of a Princess; and the hearts of Persons of that quality should be of the nature of Wax, whereon Princes may stamp all that they judge advantageous for the grandeur of their Crowns. These are indeed brave Sentiments, Madam, replied the Duke of Gloucester; but Destiny sometimes opposes so great generosity; and seeing it inspires into us Love and Aversion, according as it pleases, we find often in ourselves hatred for that which is appointed for us; and have often also an inclination for the thing we are denied. It were far better, Madam, added he, to render yourself Mistress of your own fortune, and without seeming to affect any thing in particular, as you may do to day; to make use of the assistance that is offered you, that you may perhaps thereby prevent your own misfortune. How Prince, replied Catharine; have I nothing but appearances to answer for; and can a Princess be satisfied with herself, when she can upbraid herself with such an escape? In fine, Madam, answered the Duke, I see you are not to be convinced by my reasons; and that it is as easy for you to overcome me in conversation, as it was to triumph on my heart: but consider a little what I have said to you, and think not that so small a matter, from which you are to expect all the happiness or misery of your Life.  
As he made an end of these words, he rose; and having made a low reverence, retired to the Camp, and left Catharine in a musing fit; into which the discourse of that Prince had cast her. She bethought herself what it might be that could make him speak in that manner; and making no doubt but that it was some small esteem, that he had for her, She found herself in great perplexity what course to take in that conjuncture: For on the one hand, she would not have been vexed, if there had been no progress made in the Conference; and on the other, she would have been glad to have had no obligation to the Duke; and not to have been exposed to a complaisance which he would certainly have expected from her; if he had once found himself in a condition of doing her service. She would not trust her own Judgement, as to the resolution which she ought to take concerning that; but writ an account to Tudor, who was obliged to stay at Paris, of the conference she had had with the Duke. Though that Lover had ground to praise the carriage of Catharine, yet he could not forbear at first to fall into some jealousy: But giving way at length to his Reason over his Chimerical Fancies, he not only advised the Princess to make use of the Duke's offers, but prayed her likewise not to spare her prayers, (if there was need of them) to incline him to break up that Conference which put him into despair. Catharine having had the consent of Tudor, made no more scruple; and was resolved to make her thoughts known to the Duke, the next visit that he should be pleased to render her.  
However that Prince was not so fully determined what to do, as the Princess was; and though she had given him no ground of diving into her thoughts, yet he judged that glory was more the cause of the resistance she testified, than any inclination she had for the King his Brother. And deliberating afterward if it would be more to his advantage, that she should Marry that young Prince, or that he should start difficulties to obstruct the Alliance; he at first resolved to suffer the matter to take its course: And thought it his interest rather to see Catharine Queen to his Brother, than to leave her in France, and be for ever deprived of the sight of her; but seeing men commonly are not apt to renounce their hopes so long as they have any ground to entertain them; the Duke of Gloucester took suddenly a resolution quite contrary to the intention he seemed to be in a little before. He considered with himself that he was not far from the Crown; and backing a great deal of Love with a little Ambition, he imagined that he might hope to enjoy himself, what he was about to abandon to another, if he suffered the Conference to proceed too far. That consideration was enough to make him play his part; but though in that he had a greater respect to his own than the interests of the Princess, yet he was willing to give her the honour of it; and having rendered her a Visit: Well, Madam, said he, (after the usual Ceremonies that pass between persons of that quality,) Do you still continue in the opinion you were in the other day; and do you believe that one is obliged in Ceremony to do the quite contrary of what they desire? You have had time, added he, to think on't; and considering your natural perspicacity, Give me leave to tell you that, it would be a headstrong obstinacy, still to continue in the same thoughts. You press me too hard, replied the Princess; and cannot you permit, Sir, that people should satisfy their duty, without putting of them in mind what it may cost them. I was willing to follow mine without looking back, if you had not stopped me in my Career; and Catharine had not known what it is to declare her will, if a civil and obliging Prince had not persuaded her that it is necessary for her repose once in her Life to do so. Yes, Madam, I tell you once more, answered the Duke; and I thank Heaven that, in so important an action as this in agitation, your eyes are opened. Reflect a little upon the Crosses you were about to expose yourself to, by affecting a false virtue; and how many times you would have accused yourself of being the cause of your own pains. How much is a Princess of your disposition to be pitied, when she is constrained to put on the Fetters that Policy hath made; and how much do I blame, as to that, the actions of the greatest men in the world, who without minding their own inclination, daily sacrifice themselves to a weak reason of state. How dear do they buy, added he, that vain glory, which they are willing to purchase at the cost of their heart; and how often do they blame themselves for having deprived their own satisfaction of the delights that are to be tasted in an happy Union. Ah! Madam, continued the Duke, is there any thing more sensible than these secret rebukes that men give themselves: and when Persons have a right frame of Spirit, and Discretion, should they not pursue that sole pleasure which is to be found in a sincere and affectionate engagement? Ah! Sir, replied the Princess, let us not, I beseech you, condescend on so many particulars; I am afraid, for a reason that concerns myself, that I shall come off with trouble; though there were not a great many more that might make me condemn my conduct; which probably I may be the first myself to dislike. We should not too much reflect on things, to which our inclination rather than duty moves us; and the way to make us again embrace them, is to be convinced that we have unseasonably forsaken them. I distrust not, Madam, the Justice of my Cause, replied the Duke; and I can maintain it against all men living: but I shall say no more. For your part, Madam, I only beg of you to consider that in the way of procedure that I intent to follow in respect of my King, I ought not to be so much blamed as I shall quickly be, because the Rules of Duty, and Interest of Blood are of no value, when a Man is smitten with so lovely Eyes as yours. Believe it, Madam, the Intrigue of the Conference proceeds from them; and if the Duke of Gloucester had never seen them, he would have had no other thoughts but to facilitate a good accommodation, and to hinder the streams of Blood that will flow from this Rupture. Ah! Good God, Sir, cried the Princess, let matters continue as they are, rather than I should be the cause of so many Calamities. The disorders that will follow, Madam, are not to be imputed to you, said the Duke; for the Duke of Gloucester has the greatest hand in them. It is his affection that will suddenly be the cause of that which shall be seen by all Europe; and his Love is so great, as that of himself he would have produced these great effects, though you had never given your consent to it. I recall it, Sir, replied the Princess; and I had rather spend my days in Sorrow, than suffer so many people to become miserable for the Love of me. Would to God, Madam! answered the Prince, you had as much compassion for the Duke of Gloucester, as you have for those you know not; and that what I really suffer might move you to as much pity, as an Evil which is no where as yet but in the Imagination. How willingly should I expose myself to troubles, and how well should I be rewarded for it, if the Princess Catharine might be one day heard say, It is for my sake that the Duke of Gloucester hath sacrificed his Country, and he would have always considered the Interests of his Prince as his own, if he had never loved me; But I am in the wrong, added he, Madam, to desire rewards, seeing as yet I have deserved none; and I should be inexcusable, were it not that, by an anticipating Idea, all the Services I intent to render you, are so conspicuous and present in my Imagination, that I flatter myself to have already obliged you to some kind of acknowledgement.  
Having so said, he held his peace; and the Princess by his silence being put to a plunge, knew not what to answer, till after some little force that she put upon herself; at length she spoke to him in these terms. It is needless, Sir, to render me all the services whereof you speak, to engage me to that which I owe you; and considering the way how you have behaved yourself towards me, I must needs be very ungrateful if I acknowledged not my obligations to you. Time will afford me means to give you Testimonies of my gratitude: In the mean time believe it, Prince, I have no such inclinations as can move me to forget the favours I have received. The Duke thanked the Princess for the Marks she gave him of her goodness; and having told her a thousand things concerning his passion, he took his leave, that he might go and bestir himself about the matters he had promised. He omitted nothing; and wrought so well upon the minds of those with whom he had to do, that the English having added new demands to those which they had already made in the beginning of the conference; it was finally broken up. Afterward both parties prepared themselves for all the Acts of Hostility that War can admit of; and the Duke of Gloucester having seen the Princess, and given her new protestations of Love, followed the English Camp.  
Our Lovers being thus delivered from the disquiets into which these long Negotiations had put them, consulted what measures to take for their future security; and after much deliberation, they thought that to set them above fear, they should Essay all means to make their designs approved; and then agreed betwixt themselves about the course they should take to accomplish what they projected: So that at length it was resolved, that Tudor should use his utmost endeavours to get into favour with Madam de Giack, who was one that had the ascendant upon the Duke of Burgundy, and whose friendship the Dolphin courted also secretly. Tudor found no difficulty in gaining the good Opinion of that Lady; but she thought it not convenient to speak of his Love as yet; the times seemed unfit for Marriages, whilst all the Kingdom was in Confusion. And she had reason indeed; for what ground was there to give new occasions of fury to the King of England. Would not that have been to have put all France in Fire, which was but already too much Harassed, by giving Catharine in Marriage, after she had been refused to a Prince, whose Love had perhaps contributed as much to the War, as his Ambition? Madam de Giack brought Tudor to consent to her Opinion; and promised to him that so long as she had any credit with the great men, there should be nothing done in prejudice of his interests.  
These Assurances gave the Prince some comfort; who acquainted Catharine with the success he had had with that Lady. They rested both satisfied, finding that it was impossible for them to do better; but the small tranquillity which they enjoyed, was shortly disturbed by great troubles. Tudor who persisted in rendering Visits to Madam de Giack, and in the prospect of his Affairs, omitted nothing that might oblige her; did suddenly, in the Opinion of Catharine, do too much. To increase the Jealousy of the Princess, she was told also that the Prince was in Love with that Lady; but that he lost no labour, and that she had at least as great a kindness for him as he could have for her. These reports wrought the effect that one may expect; and seeing the Princess had a tender Love for Tudor, she resented cruelly his pretended infidelity. He quickly percieved that something troubled her mind; and being conscious to himself of no Disloyalty, he accosted her with a Countenance that spoke the Integrity of his proceedings. How, Madam, said he; are not we crossed enough by Fortune? And must we, during this small Interval of Tranquillity, create to ourselves troubles and afflictions? Whence arises this change that I observe in the Looks of my Princess; and knows she not that the least sign of melancholy that Tudor percieves there, is enough to embitter the greatest felicity of his Life? He said no more; nor expected any thing less than reproaches, when the Princess with a fierce aspect; Do you still pretend, said she, to abuse me? and do you think that I am so ill informed of your treacheries as to believe your words? How, Madam, replied Tudor; does my Princess accuse me; and can she suspect me guilty of any thing contrary to my Love? Ah! Madam, continued he, then is all my comfort gone; and it is enough that I have once displeased you, to deprive me of all Joy for the rest of my Life. These words which he feelingly uttered, put Catharine into some trouble; and seeing she earnestly desired that he might Justify himself, she was willing to give him the occasion; so that resuming her Discourse, How, Prince, said she, I am in the wrong then; and do you take it to be a great sign of Love, to forsake me for Madam de Giack? Is not she the cause that you have almost forgot a Princess, who (had it been at her own choice) would have left all to have followed you? There is nevertheless, I think, a great difference between her and me; and the most indifferent heart would make distinction betwixt a Frisking Lady, and a Princess who knows not what cunning is.  
Tudor had much ado to forbear interrupting the Princess; but perceiving that she had ended her Discourse, How, Madam, said he, all in surprise; do I Love Madam de Giack then? Upon what ground, I pray you, have you conceived such a suspicion? Have I so much as a thought but for my Princess? and the indifference which is observed in me for the rest of Womankind, makes it not sufficiently appear that you are the sole Mistress of my Soul? You know, Madam, continued he, that you obliged me to Visit Madam de Giack; and though you were not in my Eyes the Loveliest Princess that ever was, Do you believe that I could be smitten with a Lady who is known to be otherways engaged; and that Tudor is not so ambitious as to despise a Heart which he must share with the Duke of Burgundy. A great deal of Policy with a little Love, replied Catharine, are many times ingredients in the Actions of Princes; and you shall see one that appears in the Eyes of many to be very passionate, who at the Heart is only filled with ambition. Banish that Opinion, answered Tudor; no body can answer that Article better than myself. I know all your greatness; but if I suspected that you gave Ear to any one who might speak of Love to you, I should value you no more; and in the lowness of your Soul should find enough to make me forget the perfections of your person. Why then, replied the Princess, do you blame me; if I take it ill to see you entertain commerce with two Women at one and the same time, and may not I be as nice as you are? Ah! Madam, answered the Prince; are you afraid that the Wound you have given me is not dangerous enough, unless you open it afresh? I have already told you that I should never have waited on Madam the Giack, but by your order; and if you had not, as well as I, thought it convenient for our Affairs, it should never have entered into my thoughts to have rendered her a Visit. But since, upon so weak a pretext as that, you take occasion to break up with people, you shall Judge by the Consequences what concerns I had with that Lady. I desire not to break with you, replied immediately the Princess; and, so far from wishing you were guilty, I shall never have greater Joy than to find you innocent.  
They told one another besides a Thousand tender and passionate things; but at length came to an Accommodation, and parted afterward in as good intelligence as ever they were. However the Prince would not Visit any more the Lady who had been the cause of their falling out; and he refused so long to do it, that it seemed he foresaw the mischief which he was to meet with on her account. But the Princess began quickly to regret that she had broken a commerce which was so necessary to their designs. She was the first that prayed Tudor to renew it; and it was only for fear of another misunderstanding, that the Prince condescended to Visit Madam de Giack again. Two days after he rendered her a Visit; and needed not much time to regain the place that he had had in her esteem. She reposed even greater confidence in him, than she had ever done before; and seeing he had concealed nothing from her of what most affected his Heart, She resolved to do the like with him; and imparted to him the secret Love that she had for the Duke of Burgundy. Tudor was ravished to be entrusted with that secret; and believed it might prove a means to oblige these two Lovers to concern themselves the more in his Affairs. He did them many times great Services in some little Janglings they had together; and the Duke of Burgundy to repay his friend's kindness, had a special care also to do him good offices with Catharine; and took all occasions to persuade the Princess that he would employ all his power, that nothing might be done to the prejudice of their Love.  
They lived all with content enough, when that accursed passion which had already wrought so much trouble to our Lovers, completely ruined their hopes. Madam de Giack was passionately in Love with the Duke; and as it is the property of Jealousy to take Umbrage at every thing, That Lady believed that this Prince had a Passion for the Countess of Foix; and she interpreted the marks of Civility which he rendered her, to be Testimonies of Affection. She began even to think him indifferent as to her; and it cannot be expressed what havoc these thoughts made in her Soul. She fell at length into a furious Jealousy; and thinking that the Duke ought to sacrifice all things to her, she carried towards him with so much haughtiness, that having taken him up very briskly on several occasions; the unhappy Lover was fain to leave off visiting her, without being ever able to know the cause of his misfortune.  
Tudor was no sooner acquainted with these transactions, but that he laboured earnestly to reconcile them; but he found all things so festered on both sides, that when he spoke of it to the Duke, he could draw no other reason from him, but that Madam de Giack was an ungrateful Lady; nor had he better success with that Lady, for all the answer she gave him was, that he knew not his friend, and that he was a very Traitor. He endeavoured to mitigate her anger, but without effect; and was obliged to retire without other information, but that he knew them to be at extreme variance. However he was not much surprised at all this; and being acquainted with the ways of Lovers, he thought that a few days would make them friends again; and that all that was to be done was to give them time that themselves might rub up again the affection that they had mutually for each other. He failed not to visit them daily; but spoke not a word to them of their Quarrels, believing that an interview would be more proper to reconcile them, than all that he could say.  
In the mean time matters continued as they were; and Tudor beginning to be apprehensive that their differences might prove harder to be adjusted, than he had imagined; thought it not fit to suffer these Lovers to accustom themselves to Indifference, and took the resolution the sooner, because he knew that the Duke and he were that very day to depart upon a little Journey. He went to Madam de Giack; and accosting her with a Countenance full of heaviness: And why, Madam, said he, will you still keep your friends in so much trouble? and though you had no esteem for them, can you see a Prince whom your cruelty brings to despair, suffer any longer? The Duke of Burgundy is no more himself; and it is to no purpose for him to affect a counterfeit Serenity; all the Sentiments of his Heart are to be seen through his constraints; and it is no hard matter to Judge that he can have no content in his Life, if you take not quickly other measures with him. You are mistaken, Sir, answered Madam the Giack; the Duke is not so passionate as you think: Observe if, after that he hath cruelly offended me, he hath made the least step to appease my anger; and what would you say if you were in the place of a Lover, who upon the point of haughtiness should find that one stood it out with you? I would say, Madam, replied Tudor, that such a Lover were passionately in Love with me; and being out of all patience that I should have wrongfully accused him: he was unwilling to come to Justifications, which are an usual sign of guilt. You lose time, Sir, answered Madam the Giack; and what pains soever you take to excuse your friend, you shall never persuade me that he Loves me; seeing after that he gave me his promise to see Madam de Foix no more, he still continues his pretensions to her with greater assiduity than ever. Ah! Madam, replied Tudor, is that all the hurt that the Duke has done you? how can you think that he can deny the civilities which the quality of Madam de Foix requires? and is not he also obliged to that, upon the account that that Lady's Husband has always stuck to his interests? And does he owe nothing to me, answered Madam the Giack; and which of the two Houses, that of Foix or mine, hath done most for him? Monsieur and Madam de Foix, added she, have adhered to the Duke of Burgundy, because they found it to their advantage; and I have renounced the friendship of my Husband, and the duty that I owed myself; only that I might follow his person. I know, Madam, replied Tudor, that the Duke is obliged to you; but I am likewise assured that he is not wanting in his acknowledgements; and if you came to a clearing, you would be the first to confess that you have taken the Alarm without ground. Only make a Trial, continued he, if I speak Truth; and you will see that you shall have no sooner made one step, but that the Duke shall make another. How, answered Madam the Giack; must I advance first then? Really, Prince, hitherto I took you for my friend; but I know not what to think on't now; and you give me a Counsel that makes me doubt of it extremely. I have told you, Madam, replied the Prince coldly; what I would do, if I were in your place: you know that those who would entertain a Commerce together, must condescend and accommodate themselves to humours: You know the Duke of Burgundy well enough, not to be ignorant that he can hardly yield, when he thinks he has no reason; he is persuaded that you are in the wrong on this occasion, and that it is your part to redress it.  
How cruel a thing it is to be in Love! answered Madam the Giack; and must our Wills be forced for a few pleasures which consist only in Fancy? Well then, Prince, I must believe you; and shall disown nothing which you shall tell the Duke in my name, as you are together upon your Journey. That is not enough, replied Tudor; you should write to him; a Lover believes not always all that his friend tells him of his Mistress: and in the matter of Janglings, every thing that comes that way is suspected; he often imagines that his friend would disguise his misfortune; and all the circumstances that can be alleged, if not backed by a Letter, persuade him far more of the friendship of him that speaks, than of the sincerity of her that puts him into despair. You desire too much, Prince, said Madam de Giack; and that I may use your own words, condescend to people, and consider that it is enough on a Lady's part to do as I do. I grant it, answered Tudor; but seeing you have already won so much ground upon yourself, boggle not at the rest, Madam, which is but a trifle; and give that satisfaction to the Duke of Burgundy who adores you. There need no more words, Prince, replied Madam the Giack; and you should require no more of your friends; they have done enough, if people be reasonable; and it is according to their conduct alone, that they may expect other marks of my complaisance.  
Tudor made some more attempts to bring her to what he desired; but seeing all was to no purpose, he took his leave of her, praying her to consider seriously what he had said. He was no sooner out of her House, but that she began to muse upon it, and quickly repent her haughtiness; thinking with herself that Princes expect not to be treated as those that are inferior to them; and that there are no Intrigues to be managed with such persons, unless one have a design to be subjected to a thousand little things which may be avoided in other engagements.  
These thoughts had greater influence upon her mind, than all the Conversation that she had had with Tudor; she called for Paper and Ink; and had already closed her Letter, when the Gentleman of that Prince's Horses, hearing that his Master was at her House, came to inquire for him. Madam de Giack by chance looked out at the Window at that very instant; she asked who the Gentleman was; and being informed that he belonged to Tudor, she gave orders to invite him up; and it being her desire that the Prince might have the Letter, she gave it to the Gentleman to be delivered to him.  
He presently returned to his Master's Lodgings; and not finding him there, he thought he might hear News of him at the Princess apartment; he found her just going to take Coach, and was about to retire again, when she knowing him to be one of tudor's retinue, and having percieved that he looked for some body, caused him to be called, and asked him who he desired to speak with.  
The Gentleman frankly confessed that he had somewhat to say to his Master; and a Letter for him from Madam de Giack. These last words pierced the Princess to the Heart; she found at that minute all the jealousy which that Lady had formerly occasioned her, revived a fresh; and being desirous to know if she had good ground for it or not, Leave that Letter with me, said she to the Gentleman. Tudor is not here; he is just now gone with the Duke of Burgundy: but I shall take care that the Letter be sent to him by a Post, who is to be dispatched to them by and by. There it is, Madam, said the Gentleman, putting it into her hand; it will ease me of a great trouble, seeing I could not carry it myself, without delaying a Journey that he has ordered me to make about his Affairs. The Princess gave no signs of that which troubled her mind; she would not so much as return into her Chamber, lest that Letter should give occasion of some suspicion; but having performed a short Devotion in the Church whither she was going, she returned to her Lodgings: And as soon as she was come, shut herself up in her Closet, where she took the fatal Letter out of her Pocket, and having opened it, found it conceived in these terms.  
THE LETTER OF Madam de Giack TO THE DUKE OF BURGUNDY.  
IF extreme jealousy be a sign of an infinite Love, nothing certainly can come near my passion; but who can arm themselves against suspicion, when they have as much ground for it as you have given me? and what Lady could forgive the pretensions you make to another? pretend not to reassure me by reasons of Policy wherewith you have already endeavoured to satisfy me; that is not current Coin with a Lover so sharp sighted as I am.  
The End of the First Part.   

TUDOR, A PRINCE of WALES.  
An Historical Novel.  
The Second Part.  
THat Letter which had no direction, had almost killed the tender and affectionate Princess with grief. She made no doubt, but that it was addressed to Tudor; and lying under the lashes of Jealousy, How, Traitor, cried she immediately, is this the way that you repay the sincere friendship that I had for you? and were the Testimonies of Love, which with so much solicitude you gave me, but Artifices then, to impose upon me with greater severity? Are these, Villain, the effects of the promises you have made to me? and what is become of the Oaths which in this I thought so pleasant, that they gave me the Assurances of a constant and perpetual Love? I ask not of you, unthankful Man, added she, that you should have a regard to these Obligations which any else in your place would have thought himself bound in to me: I will only convince you by the tenderness of my heart; and that tender heart which you have now deceived, will make appear to you that your carriage denotes a Cheat beyond the usual Knavery of Men. She said no more; but in her Countenance there appeared so great signs of sadness, that it was easy to be perceived, that her grief was not in the least abated. She pretended some little distemper, that she might not be interrupted in her thoughts, and then renewed her complaints against Unfortunate Tudor.  
But if that Letter made so great an impression on the Heart of that tender Princess; yet she alone suffered not all the cruel effects of it. Madam de Giack, who knew not what was become of her Letter, expected daily an answer; and the least Noise that was made in her Antichamber seemed to her to be a Messenger from the Duke of Burgundy. It was long before she could think that he had forgot her; but at length hearing no News from him, she began to be persuaded of his Inconstancy; and was so confirmed in her suspicions, that she fully abandoned herself to Jealousy. She broke forth in as many complaints at least against the Duke, as the Princess had made against her Lover: but she stopped not there; and seeing she thought that she had extraordinary cause to complain of him, to which she added the resentment of the slight which in this last occasion she imagined he gave her; she fell into thoughts altogether contrary to the Character of a Woman that is in Love; and entertaining them with more pleasure than she ought, she quickly hatched strange designs to obtain the revenge which she resolved. It is true, that the Love which she had had for that Prince came often into her mind, and it seemed that sometimes she upbraided herself for the fatal resolution that she took against him; but these considerations at length wrought no great effect, and the memory of these last offences carrying greater sway with her, than the remains of an almost extinct passion; she listened to nothing but her own Resentment.  
In the mean time the Dolphin had notice of the misunderstanding that was between these Lovers, and was willing to make advantage of their quarrels; upon which design he managed some secret interviews with Madam de Giack. They fell both quickly into one Opinion; and seeing the Dolphin thought he had reason to be ill satisfied with the Duke, and that his too great power gave him some Umbrage; he frankly declared himself to Madam de Giack, and made appear to her what pleasure he would have if he could ever meet with an opportunity of being revenged on him.  
The Sympathy of humour begot a strict Union betwixt them; so that they suddenly resolved the ruin of that Prince, and busied their thoughts only about the means to accomplish their design with greater facility: that put them for some time into a puzzle; but at length the Duke himself gave them the occasion. He was as much in Love with Madam de Giack as he had ever been; and being impatient to live any longer without seeing her, he thought himself obliged to pass by all that she had done to him. He wrote her a Letter wherein he expressed so much passion, as might have changed the Mind of any other; but Madam de Giack was still so possessed with the Opinion of that Prince's Inconstancy, that she had not the least regard to all that had passed between the Duke and her. She read the Letter however that she had received from him two or three times over; and stopping at that place where he prayed her to come to him: Yes, yes, Traitor, said she, I shall come to thee as thou desirest; but it shall be with a design to imitate thee, and to revenge myself on thy Treachery. She sent immediately to entreat the Dolphin to come to the place where they used to meet when they had any thing to Communicate to one another. The Prince failed not; and Madam de Giack putting into his hands the Letter which she had received from the Duke, the occasion, Sir, is fair, said she, to catch that Traitor; he must be satisfied, and I'll go to him; I have cunning enough to use him as he has dealt by me. Believe it, Prince, I shall strain my humour so that he shall suspect nothing of my designs; and it is your part, while this commerce lasts, to find some pretext to draw him into what snare you please. I shall so order matters that he himself shall run his head into the Noose; and though he had a thousand suspicions of what may befall him, I know how to remove them; and without much trouble I shall give you an occasion to free yourself from the anxiety that he may put you into. That Treason at first seemed horrible to the Dolphin: he had indeed a Pique against the Duke of Burgundy, but he thought that way of revenge too base; and it is certain he would never have embraced it, had no body but that Lady persuaded him. But she got those whom she knew to have greatest influence upon him to back her proposal. They spoke to him of the Duke's Ambition, and of his design that he had always had of Supremacy: Afterward they put him in Mind of the Murder of the Duke of Orleans, and the carrying away of the Queen, when she was at Tours; and persuading him that all these Actions had no other aim but the Crown, they so far prevailed upon him, that he condescended to all they desired.  
It was resolved then that whilst Madam de Giack was with the Duke, the Dolphin should cause an interview be proposed to him under pretext of Affairs of State; and that they should take that occasion to dispatch him: As soon as the Plot was laid, that Lady went to him. He received her with much Affection, and, without any clutter of Reproaches, admitted her to the same place that she had formerly held in his Heart. Madam de Giack desired not to come to Justifications, and, unhappily for the Duke, she said not a word of the Letter which she thought he had received from Tudor; for there was no appearance that she would have persisted in her cruel resolution, had she been convinced that he had not done her that last indignity which filled her Heart with so much rage. Two days after came a Courier from the Dolphin to the Prince, as it was agreed upon. The Duke opened the Packet; and finding that he desired a Conference at Montereau, he found himself in some perplexity how to make him an answer: For though he was sufficiently disposed to grant what he desired, in prospect that it might tend to the good of the State; yet some just fears made him cautious, seeing he was not ignorant that he had given him cause oftener than once not to be well pleased with him. He thought it then unsafe to trust that Prince; but Madam de Giack came in purposely to dissipate all his apprehensions. She gave him to understand, that he would be accountable for all the Evils that might happen to France, if upon idle apprehensions he refused an Interview, which would be of great advantage to the public; and that in fine, he did wrong to distrust the Dolphin's word, who being reconciled to him in good earnest, might probably break off again; when he percieved that he had to do with a Jealous and diffident Prince. These words wrought more upon him than all the Counsels that his friends gave him to shun the Resentment of that Prince. He sent him a Courier by whom he gave him advice that he would not fail to come to Montereau-faut-yonne the day prefixed; in effect it was his destiny which he could not avoid, and with some Guards he took his Journey; but it was sadly fatal to him, for he was killed by some of the Dolphin's Servants just as he alighted to Salute that Prince, who waited for him on thc Bridge.  
All France was surprised at the death of the Duke of Burgundy; for which the Dolphin was generally blamed by all, and by the great disturbances that upon that occasion happened shortly after; he well percieved how dear it cost him, for having followed so bad Counsels. Madam de Giack was ravished to hear that her revenge had so well succeeded; but Unfortunate Tudor, who foresaw the consequences of that accident, was no sooner informed of it but that it struck him to the Heart; he had not left the Duke of Burgundy until he went to Montereau, and he took that time to go see the Princess; to whom he had written twice without receiving any answer. He could not Imagine the reason of that silence; and desiring to know the cause of it, he went to her Apartment so soon as he came to Troy's where the Court was then. He found the Princess alone in her Closet, and expected his usual Reception; when Catharine, looking fiercely on him with eyes that darted out the anger that she was in; Begun, Traitor, said she, and go take your advantage of the death of the Duke of Burgundy: He will no more now interrupt your Amorous engagements, and I am much afraid that the hindrance he gave to your pleasures, has cost him his Life. It is impossible to express the effect that these words had on the Soul of Unfortunate Tudor: He was long without knowing where he was, or what was become of him; but coming a little to himself again, he desired to know of the Princess what she had to lay to his charge; but she gave him no time to ask the question; for, rising from her Couch, Once more begun, said she, and know that I will reason the Case no more with you. At the instant she opened the Door, and that passionate Lover, seeing himself thus banished by his Mistress, was obliged to obey her, without being able to persuade her to hear one word for his Justification. The truth is, the sad condition that he was in spoke enough to have convinced the Princess of his Innocence, had she not been prepossessed with an Opinion of his Infidelity; but she had by her that which was enough to overcome all the Scruples that she might have had on that matter; and on a time when she was a little too much urged by him, she pulled out of her Pocket the fatal Letter that we have spoken of; and casting her Eyes upon it: All this, said she, is written to my sincere Lover; and at the same time that he gives me the greatest Protestations of kindness, he endeavours to persuade another, that all his Carriage with me is but a design of Policy. No, no, Traitor, you shall deceive me no more; and lest I may be again surprised by your Artifices, I know I should distrust my own weakness; and that the surest way to Guard against it, is to break off all farther commerce with thee.  
Whilst the Princess persisted in such like Discourses, and Tudor gave way to despair, Philip Duke of Burgundy, who succeeded his Father, contrived a terrible revenge against the Dolphin. He called together all that he thought favoured him, and having taken Counsel of the most judicious, he sent one of his confidents to the King of England, to negotiate the League with him; which put France within a Finger's breadth of utter ruin.  
Most of the Grandees sided that way, and were the more easily inclined to it; in that the Duke made use of the King's name to authorize his actions. The truth is, he disposed of that Prince according to his pleasure; and made it very well appear by what he undertook, and accomplished sometime after: For he not only concluded the Marriage of Henry with Catharine; but was likewise the cause that the King declared the Dolphin incapable of succeeding to the Crown: and to complete the Duke's revenge, that King banished his own Son, by a Decree of Parliament, and acknowledged the King of England for his lawful Heir.  
After these astonishing and furious proceedings, Henry came to Troy's, where the Court was; he took upon him the Government; made sure of Paris and the chief Cities of the Kingdom; and afterward prepared for the Marriage of the Princess, who procured him so much grandeur. Tudor sometime before was advertised by the Duke of Burgundy of all that passed; and knowing how little power he had to hinder it, he desired to be comprehended in the Treaty; and seeing as he lost the hopes of his Love, he set no value upon all the advantages of Fortune; he chose rather to remit his pretensions, than to see himself obliged to leave those places where he might still hope to enjoy the sight of his Lovely Princess.  
He led as sorrowful a Life as can be imagined; but when he himself was a witness of the Marriage of Henry and Catharine at Troy's, no despair was like to his; and all that I can say of it would be far short of the severity of his sufferings. He was almost dead for grief; and he had never outlived his affliction, if it were not evident by daily experience, that the greatest Crosses have indeed power enough to overburthen us, but seldom the force to end our days.  
In the mean time Catharine was in as bad a Condition as Tudor; and though she was haughty enough to Curb the Sentiments that she still entertained for him, yet she could not look upon him when they met, without speaking many things in his favour. Yea, and sometimes she thought that she had done amiss in judging him guilty; and to her it seemed that the Melancholy he was in, since the time that she had used him so ill, might serve far more to justify him, than the Letter we have spoken of was able to condemn him. But she was much more confirmed in her thoughts, when she saw that that Prince continued no more commerce with Madam de Giack; and that so far from retaining any esteem for her, he could not hear her named but with horror. All these considerations put her many times in trouble: but virtue at length triumphs over weakness; and at least it contributed to make her reject her resolutions which sometimes she had to listen to a clear information.  
In the mean time Unfortunate Tudor found by degrees that his Crosses were too hard for him; and there is nothing truer than that at length they would have ended his days, had not an accident happened which revived in him some small hopes: For some Months there had been at Court an Italian called Pavini, who ventured at Fortune-telling, and whose Reputation was in so much Vogue by many surprising things he had told to most part of the Nobility, that he was looked upon as a person of extraordinary knowledge. He cast the Horoscope of the King of Enggland; but that Prince had no cause to be pleased with it; and that I may not trouble you with all the accidents of his Fortune, it is enough I tell you, that he assured him his Life would prove short, his death extraordinary; and that though he should not be killed, yet he should have thousands of enemies to fight with, who should never leave him till they put him in his Grave.  
The Duke of Florence, Brother to the King, had the same curiosity as his Brother had had, and his Fate was not more happy than Henry's; he was to lose his Life in the first Battle that he should fight. These Princes were not well pleased with such fatal predictions: But as the Prophecy of the Italian concerning the King's death seemed foolish, so they were not much troubled thereat; and they had no great apprehensions, but when they considered that most of the things which he had foretold others were fulfilled.  
But in a short time Pavini was fully believed; for the Duke of Clarence▪ was killed in an engagement which happened in Anjou between his Forces and the Troops of the Dolphin commanded by the Earl of Buchan, whom that Prince had made Constable of France.  
That accident made the knowledge of the Italian to be admired; all people consulted him, and Tudor who had slighted him was one of the first that heard him with greatest confidence. This man increased the confidence that Prince Tudor had in him, by some particular things which he told him; for being together in a Chamber, and he having cast his figures, and done all that his art required: Seigneur, said he, I know not what to think of this figure; you must needs be naturally inconstant, and Fortune is pleased to treat you according to the disposition of your temper: For I find that at this very instant there is a considerable Cross which puts you into despair; and I see that you forget it immediately, though no extraordinary alteration happen in your Affairs; but there is an odder thing still that I must tell you, you are betrayed by a person who loves you, and who is so far from forsaking your concerns, that that person cleaves as close to them as ever. Pavini made some pause afterward before he spoke again; but then renewing his Discourse, Here is a thing, Seigneur, said he, which much abates my wonder; you have lately had a great Cross, and yet not from your enemies; for the person that is the cause of it takes it as ill as you do. Unriddle this yourself, added he, if you can; for I confess for my part, I understand nothing of it; all that I can tell you plainly, is, that you are much in Love with some thing, and that though you have lost all hopes of possessing it, yet you shall, though you expect no such matter: But by that you are in danger of shortening your Life, and have a care also that your death be not fatal.  
Pavini told Tudor no more, but what he said was enough to make him ponder matters; for who could not be surprised; and setting aside the point of Treason, was not the rest so conform to that which had already happened, that it might be easily understood? He began then to promise himself better Fortune, and that faint beam of hope finding a place in his mind, it was quickly percieved that he had lost one half of his Melancholy. Queen Catharine took notice of it as well as the rest; She would needs know the cause thereof, and having information that Pavini told all people that he had no more Skill in the Stars, and that he lost all his measures in the Case of Tudor; the Queen was curious to know what he had told that Prince, thinking that it must of necessity be from that that he had taken comfort. She sent for Pavini when she was all alone, and having commanded him to inform her of that Prince's Fortune; he frankly confessed that it put him to a puzzle, and that he found great difficulty to conceive the meaning of the Figure he had cast for him. He told her likewise all that he had said to Tudor; and she could have interpreted a great part of it herself, if she had pleased; but she discovered not her thoughts to him, and having employed him in something upon her own account, she dismissed him.  
Her Conversation with Pavini gave her occasion to reflect on his great Skill; and persuading herself that he was infallible, She found herself divided between discontent of having unjustly accused that Prince, and Joy of knowing that he was not to be always Unfortunate. But there were a great many things that suddenly thwarted that weak satisfaction: She called to mind the Letter which she had, and finding therein more appearance than in all the Skill of Pavini, she reckoned his art sometime foppery, and many times accused herself of too much credulity. However she was in danger of taking the Prince's part, before she could wholly Sacrifice him to her suspicions; if her virtue had not come to her Assistance, and had not made her somewhat scrupulous in all that concerned him. That thought alone made her absolutely condemn Tudor; she was willing for her own Repose to think him guilty, and for that bout she resisted all temptations that she had, to come to a clearing with him.  
But Pavini gave her suddenly occasion of obtaining another Victory over herself: He cast the Horoscope of that Princess, as she had ordered him; he had a Mind to discourse with her, and taking his opportunity for an audience without interruption, Madam, said he to her, if I was amazed at the strange accidents that I found in the Fortune of Tudor, I must freely tell you, that I know not what to say of the things I have observed in yours; for every thing in it appears to me more extraordinary than another. But who would not be surprised as well as I, when I see the greatest Princess in the World unhappy amidst her Grandures. Yet that is nothing, continued he; and there are so many others who, in a Condition not far from that you are in, have had the like thoughts, that I should not much trouble myself with that Circumstance; if it were not accompanied with many others, which seem to me directly opposite to common sense: For who will not blame you, Madam, for contributing alone more to your own Crosses, than all others that are conconcerned in them? Yet after all that you endeavour not your own ease; and I perceive that you oppose the means which might give you satisfaction. Yet you will not be always in the same opinion; and one day or other you will leave off to be cruel to yourself; but as it is fatal to you to do evil to that which affects you most, you shall be the cause of the death of the only person whom you passionately Love; and which puts me in amazement without recovery, you shall not have the least trouble at it.  
The Queen would hear him no longer, she retired into her Closet; and there was she forced to struggle with her humour that she might stifle a Thousand thoughts which declared in favour of Tudor. All that Pavini had told her seemed to furnish her with weapons against herself; but at length she conquered her own weakness, and began to taste the quiet that she had acquired by her virtue, when she found her troubles again renewed by a superveening accident.  
The King her Husband made War vigorously against the Dolphin, he took from him the Towns of Meaux and Compiegne; and was going to the relief of Cosne which was Besieged by the Army of that Prince, when he was taken sick at Melun, and was forced to stop. But his Disease rather increasing than abateing, he went to the Castle of Vincennes, where he was hardly arrived, but that his distemper fulfilled the prediction of Pavini, and carried him out of this World. So terrible a death occasioned certainly much grief to the Queen; but it is not to be thought that she was so much afflicted, as she would have been, had she married that Prince for Love.  
In the mean time Tudor was not in the least sorry for it; on the contrary he thought that by that means his troubles might come to an end; and trusting as much to the prediction of Pavini as to his own Innocence, he flattered himself with the hopes that the Queen would reflect on his Love, and that at length after so many Crosses, she would perhaps reward him for all the pains that she had made him unjustly suffer. He was not altogether mistaken; for that Princess who had nothing now to object against the passion which she felt for him, suffered herself gently to listen to every thing that spoke in his favour; and if she desired some little clearing, it was only because she Judged it necessary to convince that Prince that she had reason to treat him as she had done.  
Matters being so well disposed on either side, the Queen went to England; Tudor followed her: and these Lovers began then to look on one another with so passionate Eyes, that it was easy for them to perceive that their reconciliation would not be difficult. But though Tudor knew that the Queen was all sweetness, yet he could not so far prevail upon himself as to speak his mind: And he had already found many occasions to discourse to her of his Love, without being so bold as to venture on it; yea, and he had long pined away under the pain of a bashful and constrained passion, if that Princess had not afforded him the means of disburdening his Heart: On a day when he was alone with her, and after a long discourse concerning the State of the War, I believe, said that Princess to him, that when all is done we shall very shortly lose the hope of preserving the Kingdom of France; and the Fortune of War is so favourable for the Dolphin, that there is but little appearance we can long resist his progresses. I daily hear that those who Espoused the Interest of the Late King my Husband, forforsake us, and I see nothing but Treachery on all hands. There is no Trust to be given now adays, Madam, answered Tudor; but to such as we know perfectly well; and yet we see that for most part the very same fail in their promises as well as others; and there is so little sincerity in the World, that they who make most Protestations are commonly the people who least mind their word. You are well acquainted with some of that Character, replied the Queen; but though you seem to disapprove their procedure, yet I am confident you are too much a friend to them to wish them any punishment. You have reason, answered Tudor, with a sigh; and for all the Crosses I have met with yet, I find that my Heart is so tender as to adore those who have cruelly used me. That is to say, replied the Queen, that you have so good an Opinion of your own Conduct, as not to be willing to Condemn yourself. It is to say, Madam, answered Tudor, that notwithstanding your Rigour, you are in my Eyes still the same as you were when you were no more but Princess Catharine; and that then I might have flattered my self that to her I was not altogether a thing indifferent. Put me not in mind, replied the Queen, of the ground you gave me to be displeased with you; and none but one of my goodness would look upon you after all that you have done to me. Say rather, Madam, answered Tudor, that none but one of so much cruelty as yourself, would punish people with so great severity, and still conceal from them the Pretext which you take to render them miserable. Pretexts are never used, replied the Queen, but when reasons are wanting; and it is to no purpose to invent when one hath so good proofs as you have furnished me with. Ah! Madam, replied Tudor, not to offend you; I have not the gift of knowing thoughts, and I ought indeed to be guilty to find out the cause that makes you accuse me. I know, answered the Queen, that Tudor will not be convinced without evidence; The must be satisfied, and here it is, continued she, giving him the Letter that we have spoken of; what can he object against this? the Prince took the Letter; and having read it all over: Well then, Madam, replied he; and what is this to me? How, Prince, said the Queen; should you ask me that question: and is it not your part to declare to me how far your Intrigues went with Madam de Giack; if you think fit that I should know any thing of it? I am not at all concerned, Madam, said he, in what you see; nor can I give you any account of it: And you know better than I, added he, giving her back the Letter, that this concerns the Affair that the Duke of Burgundy had with that Lady.  
However she wrote that Letter to you, answered the Princess; and I had it from the Gentleman of your Horse. The Gentleman of my Horse had no Letter for me, replied Tudor; and when, I pray, did he give it you Madam? Immediately after you went away upon your Journey with the Duke of Burgundy, answered the Queen. Ah! Madam, replied Tudor after a little musing, that may very well be; I just left that Lady when I came to take my leave of you, and I urged her so much to write to that poor Prince, with whom she had quarrelled, as to incline her to write that note. Why did she not give it to yourself before you left her? answered the Princess. She would do nothing, Madam, replied Tudor; and she thought perhaps better on it after that I was gone out of her House. But what does she mean, said the Princess, by that Jealousy she speaks of; and explain to me what she intends by these reasons of Policy.  
It is no hard matter to satisfy you Madam, answered Tudor; She was Jealous of Madam de Foix, and she was so far from hearing any reason as to that matter, that she would never give ear to what I told her concerning the Civilities which the Duke was obliged to show that Lady. These are the Politic reasons whereof she complains; and wherewith she says that he would have satisfied her: and that is also the passage which hath made me suffer so much, said the Queen; and which would have created you much trouble, if it be true that you have an esteem for me still; but seeing you knew yourself to be innocent, Why did you not undeceive me? and is that the way to Love, to leave people to those disquiets which rob them of their repose. Ah! Madam, replied Tudor; it is I, if you please, who have cause to complain; and to ask you, if that be the way to esteem one, to banish him as you banished me out of your Closet? I thought you guilty, answered the Queen; and could I give you greater evidence that you were dear to me, than by testifying the resentment that I had of your inconstancy? And could I, replied Tudor, make appear the respect that I had for you any better way, than by obeying your commands. Ah! Tudor, answered the Princess; who is she that would not have dealt as cruelly as I, upon the Ground that I had to be displeased with you? No, Madam, replied Tudor; another who had Loved better would not have been so ready to condemn me: She would have reflected on her own Sentiments, and finding that she had no passion but for her Lover, she would have likewise thought that he could have Loved none but her. But what could one think, answered the Queen, when there were so many appearances against you? But what should become of me, Madam, replied Tudor, did I but listen to all that makes against you? You have nothing to say against me, said the Queen, of equal force to that Letter. You cannot reproach me, answered Tudor, with any Marriage that gives a sign of ambition. Ah! Tudor, replied the Princess, how can you urge me on that account: and though there had been no misunderstanding betwixt you and me, had I right to oppose myself to a thing that was concluded by my Father, and on which depended all the peace and quiet of the State? You were always, Madam, answered Tudor, in a Condition of speaking one word to me; and though nothing can give comfort in adversities of that nature; yet it is no small matter for a Lover to have some cause of being flattered that nothing but the Interests of a Crown would have out-voted his Love. Could not you have told yourself that, replied the Queen; and did not I on Thousands of occasions give sufficient signs of tenderness to make you Judge that I could esteem no Man besides yourself. It is hard, Madam, said Tudor, to believe things which we see visibly overthrown by other matters so repugnant to them: And Imagine not that I give much credit yet to these marks of goodness which now you are pleased to show me, if you pretend they should be attended with so fatal a destiny as that wherewith you have already tried me. No, no, Tudor, answered the Queen; you have nothing now to fear upon that account, I have paid my duty to my Country, by the Sacrifice that I made to it of my Heart; and it is enough that once I have Married against my Will; now I think I have reason to please myself: Since I have found you Innocent, I have again placed all my affection on you; and if you continue in the same Sentiments that heretofore you were in, it shall be your own fault if I give you not ground to lay aside all doubts of my real esteem for you. Ah! Madam, replied Tudor, casting himself at her Feet; how little should I value the evils that I have suffered for so good a Princess: and how shall I ever be able to make appear how much I adore her? No, Madam, continued he, that is not to be expressed; and if you knew the State of my Heart at this very hour, you would not in the least doubt but that it is more tender and affectionate than ever.  
I not only accept of the favour you bestow upon me, said he; but I accept of it with Resentments made up of Joy and Respect; and if you would have me to be the happiest of men, hasten only the day wherein I may enjoy so great a Blessing. Then shall I make appear, Madam, that I have all that I can desire, by the possession of my Amiable Princess; and that with such a Happiness, I would not change Fortune with the greatest Princes in the World. I am glad, answered the Queen, to find you in that Opinion, and be persuaded that it shall be none of my fault if you be not very shortly satisfied.  
Tudor, as duty obliged him, thanked the Queen; and these two Lovers parted so fully content with one another, that they thought no more upon all those Evils which by their own fault they had endured.  
Tudor found his Fortune at that Pitch, to which nothing could be added, or more desired; and the Queen thought that People should be satisfied when they are assured of the Affection of those whom they intimately Love. Nevertheless she found her Joy somewhat troubled, when she reflected on what Pavini had told her; and she could not comfort herself when she considered that the kindness which she had for Tudor, must cost him his Life.  
She discovered sometimes her fears to her passionate Lover; but he endeavoured still to reassure her, and used all Arguments to persuade her that such kind of Blades did more frequently miss than hit the Mark; and that they were indebted to mere chance when they find their predictions verified. On a day when they had entertained discourse on that Subject, Mind me, said the Queen to him; I cannot but give credit to the sayings of Pavini, and all that he hath said is fulfilled so plainly according to his predictions, that I am extremely apprehensive of what he hath spoken as to you. It were far better, added she, that we should still ●●ain the fame mutual affection for one another, without proceeding farther; and that I should by that means preserve one who is dear unto me, and not expose him to the destiny wherewith he is threatened by my embraces. Ah! Madam, replied the Prince; if any of the two ought to tremble, it should only be Tudor, and he it is that must die: but he sets no such value on Life, as to refuse to give it, if it be by that Sacrifice alone that he can deserve so great a Blessing as that which you have promised him; and I should not pay enough for that I prize, though I should end my days an hour after that you had given me real proofs of your kindness. Ah! Tudor, answered the Queen, put me not in mind that I am to lose you; that is a thing that represents itself so cruelly to me, that I cannot but at present feel the sensible effects of it; and can one be separated from what they Love, and survive their grief? Have you still these thoughts, Madam; and do you believe the predictions of Pavini? replied Tudor: Do you not remember that you are not to be the least troubled at my death: I am not so unjust to my Princess as to believe it; and considering the goodness she has been pleased to testify to me, I am persuaded on the contrary, that her Fate would depend on mine; and that, if she should not die by the same blow that sent me to my grave, she would at least lie under so great affliction and sorrow, that such a Life as she would afterward lead, should be reckoned a real death. You do me right, Tudor, answered the Queen, and what you have now said to me fully confirms me. No, Pavini is Dim-sighted as to the future, and the Prince of Wales cannot meet with the least misfortune; but that I shall resent it as bitterly as he. Let us complete what Destiny intends for us, and let us endeavour to render our Fortune happy, by preventing those things which may replunge us into Crosses, such as those that we have lately passed.  
Whilst the Queen was so well disposed for Tudor, Fortune prepared new impediments to their Love. The Duke of Gloucester who was still taken up in the Wars since the conference at Meulan, was chosen for the Command and Government of Affairs in England, during the minority of Henry the Sixth, his Nephew, who was but as yet an Infant in the Cradle. That Prince accepted the Commission with Joy; and the more willingly inclined to the Journey, in that he retained still for the Queen the same Sentiments that he felt at first sight of her. In effect, he no sooner saw her again, but that his flames were powerfully revived in his Breast: She seemed more beautiful to him than all that ever he had seen; and seeing his quality of Regent obliged him to speak frequently with her, these many Conversations made him quickly passionately in Love.  
He prevented that Princess in granting all that he thought she might desire; and became in a word so civil and obliging, that it was very hard not to entertain an esteem for him. Nevertheless, the Queen was so far from being pleased with that complaisance, that she was much troubled at it so soon as she discovered the cause; and she observed such a Conduct with him, that she always endeavoured to avoid the occasions which he sought to discourse to her of his Love. But all that Circumspection was unprofitable; and on a day when they had had a conference concerning some matters of State, wherein the Queen told the Duke that he had very well discharged his duty: You give me, said he, Madam, praises which are not due to me; and I have contributed far less than you, to the success of what I have told you. The Queen not knowing what to make of that; How Prince, replied she, unfold to me that Riddle: and what hand can I have had in a matter whereof I did not so much as know? That hindered not, Madam, answered the Duke, but that you wished that it might succeed as it did; and it was enough for the Duke of Gloucester, knowing your intentions, fully to comply with them. I am much obliged to you, replied the Queen; but I shall refer all that, if you please, to the Zeal which you have for the Service of the King, and I shall like it as well. You are in the wrong, Madam, answered the Duke, not to take it as done for your sake alone; and you should believe that Love will be always more powerful in my Heart, than all the Sentiments of Nature and Duty. I am forced to tell you, continued he, that I am nothing changed from what you saw me at Meulan: But be not alarmed at this, Madam, I have no thoughts that may give you cause of complaint; and I know very well that that which hath happened since my fatal departure, hinders me from having any thing to pretend to more. However I Love you not with less Sincerity than if I had ground to believe that you would one day render me happy. Pity so wretched a Lover, Madam, who though his Passion be so violent, yet is still so respectful as to conceive nothing contrary to the virtue of a Princess whom I shall adore with such Sentiments as long as I live. These words gave the Queen some comfort; and having considered a little what answer she should give him, she at length in this manner broke her silence. You ought not to doubt, Sir, but that the knowledge you give me of your passion causes me much trouble; and you oblige me to have so great an esteem for you, that I cannot forbear to wish you a better Fortune than that to which you expose yourself: Consider what it is to Love without hope; and I am assured that if you reflect upon it as you ought, you will ease yourself of a great many troubles that you are about to create both to yourself and me; if you persist in that unhappy passion. I am not now, Madam, replied the Duke, to make that reflection; I have used all arguments with myself to overcome my own weakness: But, to be short, it is too hard for me; and after a Thousand attempts, all that I can gain upon myself, is to admire you as a Lover full of tender affection; and to speak to you as a man who is hindered by sacred ties to tell you all he thinks. Believe it, Madam, I can reconcile most respectful words, with most languishing looks; and nothing but my Eyes shall ever testify to my Princess, that the Unfortunate Duke of Gloucester is born to love her with extreme Passion. Ah! Prince, answered the Queen, banish those Sentiments which abuse you; and do you not perceive that you already begin a discourse contrary to the resolution you have taken; and that you declare your Love at the same time you promise me never to speak more of it. I had not been aware of it, Madam, replied the Duke, if you had not given me notice; but I shall for the future be more punctual in keeping my word. I shall not so much as complain of your cruelty, how severe soever you may be to me; and I know but one thing that may make me lose the measures which I intent to observe in so tender and respectful a Love. Ah! Prince, have a care, said the Queen; your Passion wants the respect you speak of, if you think that you can ever dispense with the silence to which you oblige yourself; it is that promise alone which makes me to day suffer a Conversation that is so contrary to the duty I owe myself, and which renewed once more, would make me lose all the esteem that your civil carriage hath gained from me. These Sentiments, Madam, wherewith you flatter me are too precious, than that I should not preserve them at what expense soever; and if the Duke of Gloucester never find that you intent to make some Man else happy, whilst he suffers so much, he shall perhaps convince you by his carriage, that he deserved the blessing himself; if a Brother had not been before possessed of that happiness, and had not for ever deprived him of the hopes of it.  
These words made the Queen conceive how great difficulty she was like to meet with in the design she had for Tudor. She was troubled on this consideration; but being willing to dismiss the Duke before she gave herself wholly to these thoughts: Prince, said she, either think of putting in execution what you have promised, or resolve never to see me more; for, to be short, I find myself too much to be blamed for entertaining such discourses with you; and it is not enough to have good intentions, we must likewise do our duty. It is true, Madam, replied the Duke; and I know that as well as you: Wherefore my whole study shall be to satisfy you; and I'll tell you no more that I Love you, because you are displeased with such discourses. However, I pray you believe that my passion shall neither be more nor less, what countenance soever I put on; and the Fate of the Duke of Gloucester indispensably obliges him to the Service of the most lovely Queen in the World.  
So soon as he had said so, he withdrew and left the Queen in an inconceivable trouble. Tudor came in at the same instant, and finding that Princess in a condition that suffered none to doubt of her grief, What hath befallen you, Madam, said he presently; and has destiny still new Crosses in reserve for me? Yes, Tudor, replied the Queen; Fate is ready again to make me suffer; and the Duke of Gloucester opposes my happiness and the satisfaction I intended to give you. At the same time she told him of the Conversation she had had with him, and then renewing her discourse: Consider, Prince, said she, to what I expose you; if I follow my Inclination which bids me content you; and is not that the way to make Pavini's word true, so to deliver you up to the rage of a despised Lover? What can he do, Madam, replied Tudor; and besides does he not give evidence of so much virtue, as that we need not fear he will dishonour himself by any base Act. Ah Tudor, answered the Queen; that shadow of virtue which beguiles you, does not so much deceive me; I have dived into the very heart of the Duke through all his disguises, and he puts on that counterfeit Cloak of Civility, that he may only fetch his first blow, and wheedle me, if I may so say, to listen to the discourse of his passion. Consider what is to be expected from one who thinks himself slighted, and whose power in this place can accomplish what ever he intends. What hath my Princess then resolved to do? replied Tudor; to Love you as long as I live, answered the Queen; but rather to die a Thousand times than to be to you the cause of those calamities, whereof the very thought chills me with horror. But is it not, Madam, said he, to expose me to the most cruel of pains, always to delay that which might render me happy; and what more can I expect from the wrath of the Duke of Gloucester? Good God, Tudor, replied the Queen; urge me no more to that: You know my weakness, but your preservation will be far dearer to me than all my pleasures; let us join both together, if it may be done, answered Tudor; and seeing you have so much goodness as to have so great care of my life; let us find out a remedy to cure you of these obliging fears, and which may at the same time afford me the satisfaction that I should meet with in the accomplishment of your promises. That is impossible, replied the Queen; not so much as you think, Madam, answered the Prince; and if an expedient could be found, would you be against it? No, Tudor, replied the Queen; and so far from refusing it, I would consent to it with all my Heart. Consider then, Madam, if you can resolve to marry me secretly.  
There is no necessity that people should have so many witnesses of their happiness; and we may find some so faithful, as we need not fear that they will publish our secret unless we give them leave. But are there no consequences to be feared, said the Queen? and were there no other but the effects of Marriage; have not I reason to be circumspect? Can we want persons to whom we may trust, answered Tudor; and can so small a matter as that make you scrupulous? the Queen stood sometime speechless; but shortly after speaking again, I perceive at length, Tudor, said she, that I must grant your desires; and indeed it is impossible for me to deny you; but remember what I do for you. The Prince cast himself immediately at her feet; and being as sensibly affected as one could be, he told the Queen all that a strong passion, and extreme gratitude can suggest to a tender, faithful and generous Lover.  
The Princess put forth her hand to raise him; and that happy Lover falling on that fair hand, kissed it with such Transports of delight, that it might be easily Judged how great pleasures he was to taste in the possession of so Lovely a Princess. In effect no Man was so happy as Tudor, some few days after; and in the Marriage of that great Queen, he found matter enough of Comfort for all the Evils that he had suffered so long.  
That Lovely union which was Ushered in by so many Crosses, was attended with all the Contents that this Life can afford; and difficulty, which seasons pleasures, made these Lovers find a Thousand charms in the secret of their Marriage; which perhaps they had not met with, if they had enjoyed one another publicly, and without Intrigue. Their Commerce lasted long before it was perceived; and the Queen so well concealed her Big-belly, that she was Brought to Bed oftener than once before the matter came publicly to be known. But as it is hard always to deceive a Lover, and a Lover that is Unfortunate; the Duke began to suspect that Tudor had a greater share than he in the favours of the Queen; and though that Prince knew nothing but what his suspicions made him conjecture, yet he grew fearfully Jealous.  
He never met Tudor but that he beheld him with threatening looks; and at length he observed so few measures in his Resentment, that our Lovers easily percieving it, redoubled their Circumspection to conceal their Marriage. But Fortune which delights in Inconstancy, was weary of showering her Favours on them, and resolved to make them feel her cruelty; after that she had Crowned them with her kindness.  
The Duke of Gloucester entertained many spies in the Country; and these Blades who observed all things with great care, could not hitherto find any thing that might confirm their Master in his thoughts. Sometimes he upbraided them with Carelessness, sometimes with Treachery; and that they conspired with the Queen to deceive him.  
In the mean time all these Reproaches being unprofitable; he resolved to set to Work himself, and laboured to corrupt the Loyalty of those whom he knew to be most Privy to the Secrets of the Queen: But he found them all so firm to their duty, that he began to lose hopes of succeeding in his designs; when Fate alone in a Trice completed that which the Duke could not perform with the Assistance of all whom he had employed.  
The Queen made use of one of the Chamberlains of her House, to send her Letters by to Tudor; she had entrusted him to carry one to him; and that faithful Servant who was glad punctually to discharge what he was ordered to do by the Queen, waited till Night, that he might go securely to the House of Tudor, and so soon as it grew Duskish he took his Journey that he might perform his Message.  
He was not far from the House, when he found himself set upon by Six Robbers: He defended himself as well as he could; but the Footman that was with him having forsaken him, he received suddenly several wounds, which made him fall dead upon the place.  
In the mean time that murder was committed with much Rumour; and the Lackey who fled called together a great many for his Master's Assistance, with whom he came back, but too late; for the Murderers had already saved themselves. Some went in pursuit of them, and the rest carried the Body of the Gentleman into the next House, where making an Inventory, according to the good Custom of some, of all that the dead Man had about him, they found there the Letter which he carried to Tudor.  
They presently knew the Queen's Signet; and seeing the Letter had no address, and that they doubted not but that it was of consequence, The Constable took the charge of it, and went instantly with it to the Regent, to whom he told what had happened.  
The Duke presently dismissed him; and having looked upon that Letter Three or Four times, without daring to open it, at length he broke it up and found these words in it.  
THE QUEENS LETTER TO TUDOR.  
ALL that can be done is done to discover if I love you; and there is nothing omitted to draw from my Servants a Confession of what they might know of our Secrets: but they have not falsified the Opinion that I had of their fidelity, and our Jealous observer shall keep watch long in vain, if I mistake not. At present I find some abatement of my fears; come as soon as you can, my Dear, and make your advantage of the Serenity we now enjoy, and I shall give my Dear Tudor proofs, that I Love him more than myself.  
THe Duke grew stark staring mad upon reading of that Letter; he was sometime before he would resolve what to do: but at length having uttered great threats against these two Unfortunate Lovers, he resolved to show them what a slight was able to produce in the Breast of a Man prepossessed with a strong passion. He imagined every thing that might animate him to revenge; and when he found that some remains of Affection put a stop to his rage, Is it for that infamous Princess then, that thou dost solicit me; and art thou still so base as to be willing to observe measures with one who, not content to put me into despair, stains likewise the honour of the Royal Family by a shameful Commerce which she holds with a Prince so far beneath her. Ah! too happy Tudor, cried he immediately afterward, thy death must expiate the Crimes that thou committest against the Memory of thy Prince; and the Duke of Gloucester shall revenge him at the same time that he resents the Indignity that you offer to his Love. He was at least an hour in making such useless complaints; and thinking that he would receive great ease if he might utter in the Queen's presence what he had been saying all alone, he went to her apartment. The Queen was surprised to see him at that time; but she had far greater reason to be so, when that Prince, after a terrible look, I am not at all amazed, Madam, said he to her, at the trouble I put you in; when one expects to see a Lover, and finds a furious man, one has reason to change colour; but I shall be exceedingly changed myself, if I produce not shortly more surprising revolutions, and I hope that the deceitful Eyes which I behold, shall shortly weep for the same things that have hitherto made them laugh. What do you mean, Prince, replied the Queen half angry at that discourse; and half shaking for fear. I mean, Madam, answered the Duke, that to see you, one would never have believed that you could Join such modest looks with so bad and Irregular a Conduct. But I know your secret practices; and it is no time to dissemble when I have so good proofs to confound you. Here is the thing, continued he; (showing her the Letter that we have mentioned) that will put you out of your measures; and ought you not to blush at these shameless words whereby you express your passion?  
If the Queen was astonished at the Duke's discourse; ye may Judge what case she was in when she saw her Letter in his hand. She stood sometime speechless; but finding that it was no longer time to dissemble, By what means, Prince, said she, have you come by my Letter? I see not what right you have to censure my actions; and may not I write to my Husband what I think good, but that the Duke of Gloucester must find fault with it? Tudor your Husband! Madam, said the Duke, immediately interrupting her. Yes, Prince, replied the Queen; Tudor is my Husband: and I would have you know besides, that I have Three Children by him. These words almost killed the Duke with despair, and renewing his discourse after he had made some reflection on what the Queen had told him, A Queen of England, said he, Daughter of a King of France, has Married Tudor, and has Three Children by him! Ah! Madam, added he; think not by that Pretext to abuse me; it will be to no purpose for you to think to stop my revenge; and let it be as you will have it, that too happy Tudor shall die; and he shall pay for the freakishness of Fortune, that appoints some to so much happiness, whilst others wrestle with the Torments of a wretched life. He presently went out with the Mine and Gate of a Man who was to be feared. The Queen could not behold him in that condition without Trembling for Tudor; and at this instant she felt a shivering that never left her till she died.  
In the mean time the Duke of Gloucester sent some of the Guards to apprehend that Prince; but they narrowly missed him, for he was gone a little before to wait upon the Queen, upon the news he had received that their Confident was Assassinated. He entered her apartment unseen of any; and finding the Princess in a Posture that might have drawn Tears from the most obdured hearts, it was long before he gave any sign of sorrow by words; but instead of that, he made appear in his Countenance the utmost effects of extreme affliction. Afterward he looked tenderly on that amiable Princess, and speaking to her fully as much with his Eyes as Mouth, What is the news then, said he, my dear Queen? and what should I think of the cruel condition wherein I see you? Ah! Prince, we are undone, answered the Queen, and the Duke of Gloucester has discovered our secret; he hath intercepted a Letter which I sent you to day by my Chamberlain, and in a word, we are betrayed. That faithful Servant is dead, Madam, replied Tudor; and was murdered hard by my house. I am come purposely hither to pay my duty to my Princess, and to know of her, if she had heard of that fatal accident. Alas! no, answered the Queen, and I began almost to suspect him of Treachery; but at length I am convinced of his innocence, and who have been his murderers: There is no doubt but the Duke has committed that crime; and not satisfied; with the death of that Wretch, he threatens also the Life of my dear Tudor. At the same time she told him all that had passed between the Duke and her; and had no strength to speak any more: about the end of her discourse she fainted away, and came not to herself again till half an hour after; but was feised on with so burning a Fever, that she alarmed all that were with her.  
In the mean time Tudor was in no better condition; and he could not behold these sad Marks of kindness which his, Princess showed him without the bitterest Agonies of grief; but he had shortly occasion to be overwhelmed with sorrow: For the Queen understanding that the Duke of Glocester's Guards had been at the Prince's house to apprehend him, and that he was sought after in all places; she thought him utterly undone, and that nothing could save him from his rage. She obliged him to suffer himself to be shut up in a Closet behind her Bed; but that circumspection delivered her not from her fears, and her Fever got immediately up into her Brain and made her Lightheaded; which in two days time brought her to the last extremity. It is hard to tell the sufferings of Tudor when he saw the Queen in that condition; nor can I even tell which of the two was most to be pitied; he looked upon her with all imaginable tenderness, and had no other way to express his grief but by a flood of Tears which streamed from his Eyes.  
The Queen was sensibly affected at his pains; and striving against her distemper, that she might again speak to him, Prince, said she, if you would oblige me, be not so much afflicted; consider you have Children, and that for them you owe your preservation: Take no care of the Mother; and reserve for these dear pledges which I leave to you of my kindness, the Testimonies that now you give me of your Love. Having so said, she embraced Tudor; and mingling together the Memory of his pains and Love, breathed out her last between his Arms, leaving all in an uncertainty whether she died for Joy or Grief.  
The Unfortunate Tudor melting in Tears, stretched himself upon the Body, which he endeavoured to warm again by his embraces; but finding it cold and passed all sense, he was at length convinced of his misery. He continued long in a fearful ecstasy; but so soon as he came to himself, he resigned all his contents to despair. Ah! Pavini, cried he, your knowledge is great; and you have to the least circumstances foretold my unhappiness. My Queen will not now be troubled at my death, seeing that Illustrious Princess is gone. He said no more; but leaving the Chamber, went straight to the Duke of Gloucester. He accosted that Duke with the resolution of a Man that fears not death; and having cast a disdainful look upon him, Make an end, barbarous man, said he, of the Tragedy you have so well begun; and seeing my lovely Princess is by your cruelties now expired, why are you so slow to make me feel the same measure of Injustice, and to reunite above what was so well Joined here below. The Queen is dead! replied the Duke in a great surprise; is it possible, good God do I hear that fatal news, and do not I die for grief? With that he fetched several sighs, and turning to Tudor in the height of rage: Yes, yes, Traitor, said he, I shall speedily grant your desire, and your blood shall supply the Tears that you have made me shed. He called his Guards immediately, and having ordered them to carry him to Prison, he locked himself up in his Chamber, where he mournfully lamented his destiny. But he quickly changed his Love into fury; for within a few days he caused a Scaffold to be erected, where he commanded Tudor to be put to death. The poor Prince was led to Execution as if he had been guilty; but instead of complaining of the Duke's cruelty, he prayed a certain friend to thank him in his name, for the favour he did him, because by his means he hoped shortly to see his lovely Queen again. He laid down his head to the Executioner; who having by one blow divided it from his Body, showed the Spectators by that Memorable Catastrophe, how little there is between the highest bliss and the lowest misery.  
FINIS.   

A Catalogue of some Books Printed for, and Sold by Jonathan Edwin, at the Three Roses in Ludgate-street.  
THe Commentaries of C. Julius Cesar, of his Wars in Gallia, and the Civil Wars betwixt him and Pompey, Translated into English, with many excellent and judicious Observations thereupon; as also the Art of our Modern Training, or Tactick Practice; by Clement Edmund's Esquire, Remembrancer of the City of London. Whereunto is adjoined the Eighth Commentary of the Wars in Gallia, with some short Observations upon it, together with the Life of Caesar, and an account of his Medals: Revised, Corrected and Enlarged, in Fol.  
The History of the Reigns of Henry the VII. Henry the VIII. Edward the VI and Queen Mary, the first Written by the Right Honourable Francis Lord Verulam, Viscount St. Alban, the other Three, by the Right Honourable, and Right Reverend Father in God Francis Godwyn, Lord Bishop of Hereford, in Fol.  
The Countess of Pembrokes Arcadia, written by Sir Philip Sidney Knight, the Thirteenth Edition, with his Life and Death; a brief Table of the principal Heads, and some other new Additions, in Fol.  
The French way of Exercising their Infantry, as it is now used in the Armies of his Most Christian Majesty, in Fol. stitched.  
Parthenissa, that most Famed Romance, the Six Volumes complete, composed by the Right Honourable the Earl of Orrory, in Fol.  
Roman Forgeries, or a true Account of false Records, Discovering the Impostures and Counterfeit Antiquities of the Church of Rome, in Octau.  
The Comparison of Plato and Aristotle, with the Opinions of the Fathers on their Doctrines, and some Christian Reflections; together with judgement on Alexander and Caesar, as also on Seneca, Plutarch, and Petronius, in Octau.  
Observations on the Poems of Homer and Virgil: A discourse representing the Excellencies of those works; and the perfections in general of all Heroic Actions, in Octau.  
The Causes and Remedies of the Distempers of the Times, in certain Discourses of Obedience and Disobedience, in Octau.  
Songs and Poems, by Thomas Flatman, the Second Edition, in Octau.  
Gallantry A-la-Mode, a Satirical Poem in Three, parts representing the Vanities of several humours of this present Age, in Octau.  
Wit at a Venture, or Clio's Privy Garden, containing Songs and Poems, never before in Print, in Octau.  
The Mercury Gallant, containing many true and pleasant relations of what hath passed at Paris, from the first of January 1672. till the King's departure thence, in Octau.