THE Third Part OF THE AMOURS OF Messalina. WHEREIN, The Secret Intrigues of the Four last Years Reign are Completed. AND THE Love Adventures of Polydorus King of the Gauls, AND THE Late Queen of ALBION, Made Public.  
By a Woman of Quality, a late Confidant of Q. MESSALINA.  
LONDON: Printed for John Lyford, 1689.   

THE Bookseller TO THE READER.  
THE Promised, and long Expected Third Part of the Amours of our MESSALINA, is here at your Service: And though some Critics I am informed (and indeed my Sale tells me as much) have not put an equal value on the two foregoing Parts, the Second lying under the Repute of much Inferior to the First: My Historian makes no other Apology, than that the Fair Messalina had so many Engines at Work, in turning that great Hinge of the Pagan Glory, Her Warming-pan Plot; and her Hands and Head so full of Politics on that Important Occasion, that She then wanted Leisure for Intrigue and Amour; which indeed being the main Delight of the Generality of my Readers, might perhaps lessen the Satisfaction expected from the Second Part. But since her Majesty's Departure from the Heretic Albion, has Translated her to a more agreeable and natural Element, the Pagan Court of Gothland; her heavier and sullen Business she gins to shake off, and resumes the lighter Air of Love and Pleasure. And accordingly we dare, without Vanity, assure our Kind Reader, That the former Defects are supplied in the Entertainment of this Third Part of her History. An Amorous Polydorus, little less famed under the Banners of Cupid, than the sometimes Glorious Britomard himself, lying at the Feet of the Adored Messalina, affords a little mre Matter of Adventure and Diversion. With this Recommendation to our little Volumn of the Great Messalina, We beg your present generous Acceptance. And if you find your Messalina warm with any extraordinary Spark for the Imperial Polydorus; you are to consider, that the Sanctuary and Glorious Reception she meets in the Court of her ever firm Friend, the King of the Gauls, have Inspired her with no small Gratitude to that MOST PAGAN Hero, and Champion of her Altars.   

The Third PART.  
LOVE could no longer brook this intefering Business in the Court of Albion; for seeing with Indignation, how Ambition daily had entrenched on his Prerogative, he reassumes his long neglected Darts, and vows severe Revenge on his Rebellious Subjects. And now Messalina's haughty Heart, which vast aspiring Hopes had long engaged, softens again in Gentleness and Love: She had seen the Languets of her Charming Count, and heard his gentle Murmurs with Compassion; she knew the great restraint he forced upon his Heart, when by reason of her numerous Attendants, and Visitours, he had not opportunity to breathe his Love; sometimes a Wink, an Amorous Look, or Sigh, she would by stealth return; or otherwise, in some Ambiguous Words, she would discover her Concern and Care, for his endearing Passion; but in such dumb shows alone, as there were more than Three Weeks spent,  she could possibly engage, or speak with him alone. During which time, her Beauty, with the Satisfaction of her Mind, was much improved; and that forced Abstinence, which her pretended Childbearing had made her undergo, conduced as well to carry on the Cheat, as to revive some fading Glories in her Face, caused by the Fears and Apprehensions of Miscarrying. Now, in Triumphant Wise, she'd Walk, and Look, and with Disdainful Jests, among her Confidents, Laugh at the weak dull Christians of the Court. Come Dear Aspasia, would she say, let us no longer doubt of good Success; let's every Year bring forth a Son, and stock the Kingdom with a Race of Pagan Princes; shall my aspiring lofty Soul, stoop to the nice Destructive Rules of their insipid Morals? One flight of Pagan Fancy quite outstrips their heavy tedious Motions; and till now, our Fears alone have been our Bugbear Apparitions: With how much ease, did we Contrive and Finish, what some faint puny hearted Creatures thought impossible? Oh how I am pleased to think how naturally I managed the Intrigue: Didst thou observe, how gravely some would stand; and when my feigned Groans and Cries, would reach their Ears, how then Officiously they'd shake their Heads, devoutly lifting up their Hands, and pray for my Delivery? Then, when my seeming Pains would make me faintis●…, with what Concern they'd Sigh and Whisper, while I would gently grasp, and turn to thee, and smile at the Success of our Invention. Come, Come, let's see this Darling of our Hopes, this Groundwork of our Everlasting Joy; long Live, and Live to Reign, my little blooming Life, and Live to be the Scourge of our Cursed Christian Foes; I'll swear thee, like another Hambal, their Mortal Foe; each drop of Milk thou suckest, shall breed an Age of Malice in thy Heart; A Christian's Name shall grate upon thy Soul, and thou shalt prove the Plague of their Profession; I'll breathe my Spirit through thy tender Pores, and make thy hatred of them Everlasting; Down, down ye Pagans, to your Great Deliverer; Adore your Mighty Prince, and your Redeemer: See how the base dejected Christians shrink; see how they Tremble at his Awful Frown: Albion is once again Redeemed, Aspasia, and now my Crown sits firm and easy on my Head. Thus in Vain Raptures would the Queen break out, and boast her Promises to be Prophetical; but soon, alas, she found herself deceived, and all her Glorious Promises vanish of a sudden. Anaximander, and the Princess Artemisia, while Licogenes, and his Pagan Councillors, continued only to make some small Encroachments, and Breaches on the Laws of Albion, seemingly designing, for no more than a small Toleration of the Pagan Religion in Albion, kept themselves within all bounds of Modesty and Submission, to the King their Father; only in some small Remonstrances, they did Declare their Unwillingness to appear Parties in the Annulling, or Dispensing with those Laws, made purely for the Security of the Christian Religion, against the Practices and Contrivances of the Pagans; but when they plainly saw, their Own, and the Kingdom's Interest, resolved to be made a Sacrifice to the Ambition, and Covetousness of a small Party, that by the known Laws of the Land, were declared the irreconcilable Enemies of the Christians; they thought it then high time to look about them, and though they paid all the Reverence imaginable to the King, their Father; yet they could not resolve to yield their Rights and Inheritance, and hold precariously their Estates, at the Discretion of an Antichristian packed Council; besides, by several Remonstrances and Petitions from the Chief of the Nobility and Gentry, they had been solicited to take them into their Protection, and to endeavour a Redress of their Grievances, and heavy Oppressions▪ Anaximander, being a Prince of a Vast and Generous Spirit, was easily induced to condescend to their Relief; for, besides his proper Interest in the Crown of Albion, which by the common Principles of Nature, he was obliged to Maintain and Defend; he often would revolve on the Glory of the Action, and how Heroic and Godlike it would show, to appear the Great and Glorious Champion of the Christian Religion, which by a Secret League, between Polydorus King of the Gauls, and the King Licogenes, was resolved to be wholly Extirpated, and Routed out of Europe. Upon these Considerations, the Prince Anaximander immediately imparts his Desires and Resolutions to the High and Mighty Lords and States of the Lowlands, desiring their Lordship's Advice and Assistance in a Matter of that Importance, to the Security of themselves, as well as all other Christians; which upon due Considerations, they with all Alacrity imaginable Grant: And now the Prince having a Gallant, though small Fleet, equipped with all the speed that could be, makes for the West of Albion, and with such prudent Secrecy were all things managed, that Lycogenes had not the least Intimation in the World of his Designs, till his Fleet was ready to Sail. Messalina had, that Night the satal News arrived, assigned Count Davila to meet her at St. Jaques, and the Marchioness de Tomazo in the Absence especially of Aspasia (who a while before was gone over to her Husband Latroon, Governor of Iberia) being her chief Confident, was ordered to attend. The Count, who had once or twice been Tardy in the Hour appointed, thought now by early Diligence to make amends, so that by Twilight he was gotten up into the Bedchamber, being a private Retirement for Messalina, during the King's Absence at any Time, or her Indisposition; where sitting down near the Bed, he waited with Impatience for the Queen; and in the mean time, was contemplating on the Happiness of his Enjoyments; by this time, Darkness had overspread the Earth, and the Marchioness being to give the Orders for the Candles of that private Apartment, especially at that season, the Count found himself for some time very solitary, and without Light, and being about to make to the Door, he heard some stirring and breathing on the Bed, when drawing the Curtain softly, he could just perceive by her , it was a Lady fast asleep; the Count was mightily amazed at first, but recollecting himself, he thought it doubtless was the Queen, who had retired thither before the Hour appointed, and had prevented even his Diligence in coming; so without scruple, throwing himself on the Bed, he clasps the supposed Messalina in his Arms, and having in his first Transports run with his curious Hand o'er all the private Recesses of her Charms, he was just preparing to attack the Fort, mingling with his Kifles, his short Amorous Sighs, foretelling Transports, Ecstasies and Die; when Messalina hastily comes in with a small Taper in her Hand, and calls: Tomazo, is not my Dear Count yet come, Tomazo? The Marchioness at the very Instant, whether the Amorous bustling of the Count had operated on her waking Fancy, or whether by the Impression of some pleasing Dream, she was thereto incited, Cried passionately out, " Make haste my Dear Antonio, make haste, the Marquis will be here and Ruin us. The Queen who had heard her speak those last Words, by this Time had opened the Curtain, and there discovered the Count, raised on his Knees between Tomazo's Legs, and in a posture which plainly discovered the drift of his Intentions; never were Three Persons (for by this Time the Marchiones had waked) so severally astonished and confounded; the Queen with Shame had shown her Face glowing Red, and then with Anger straigt grown Pale; the Count, though in that awkward Posture, was so much confounded, he could not move himself, nor had the Sense to cover the Marchioness, or his own Nakedness; but between Wonder, Anger and Fear, was wholly bereft of even Sense or Motion: The Marchioness, whose Age and Experience had rendered her familiar with the same or the like Adventures, was not so much Ashamed of being seen in that Condition and Posture, as Apprehensive of the Queen's Resentments, if, as was probable, she should suppose any Amour between her and the Count, her Lover, and whom she had but that Night appointed, and designed for her own Use and Service. In such distracted Thoughts and Manner, did they for a great while stand and gaze, and wonder at one another, without one Word between them, till at last the Queen, whether heightend in her Fancy, with the pleasing sight and intended Action of the Count, or upon due consideration, believing and judging, by the Words she had heard the Marchioness utter, that it was wholly a mistake on all sides, burst out in Laughter, and turning her Face a little, told the Count in Drollery, the Wether began to be Cold, and therefore he would do well to take care and cover his Mistress and himself. The Count with this short reprimand was thoroughly waked out of his Trance, and slipping off the farther side of the Bed, was bustling a long time to put himself in order, while the Marchioness, half distracted, riseth and pulls the Curtains close about her; which the Queen seeing, She calls out to her: What Tomazo! You are resolved then to keep the Count to yourself this Night; and making to the Bed, She threw the Curtains again open, and discovered Tomazo in a fresh Confusion: By this time the Count had gathered a little more assurance, and coming from behind the Bed, he straight threw himself at Messalina's Feet, humbly asked her Pardon, and told her, he hoped she was not insensible of the fatal mistake he had like to have fallen in; and consequently, he doubted not of her favourable Interpretation; he was sorry he had first appeared in so indecent a Posture, and his continuance therein, She could not but believe the consequence of his Astonishment. The Queen, who upon a just consideration of the Circumstances, was sufficiently satisfied of his Innocence, was so ●ar from being angry or disturbed, that after two or three fits of Laughter, She threw her delicious Arms about his Neck, and with Ten Thousand Kisses Sealed his Pardon: then turning to her dear Tomazo, She would Laugh, and say, Make hast my Dear Antonio, make haste; O Dear, my Husband comes! Alas, What shall we do? we are ruined Dear Antonio. Thus did She Droll on the poor Marchioness, till the Count putting her in mind of the time of the Night, they were retiring to the Closet to Converse, when a Messenger from Alba Regalis, comes in haste, to give an account of an Express, Lycogenes had received from the Belgian Lowlands, giving an Account of the Preparations and Designs of the Prince Anaximander, to come and redress the Grievances of the poor Christians of Albion: the Queen (who was not otherwise read in the Politics and Affairs of State, than as Father Pedro, the Count, or some other of her Priests upon particular occasions had Instructed her) was not at first so apprehensive of the Danger as the Count, who was so vehemently startled at the News, that without any more Compliment than Bowing to the Queen, he descends and takes Coach for Alba Regalis; where he was no sooner Arrived, but he found the whole Court Alarmed; and Lycogenes in Solemn Council was gone to Debate the Business: The next Day the News was confirmed by another Express, and then all was in an Uproar; Lycogenes in a great Fright comes to Council, tells them his apprehensions of Anaximanders' Design, requires their best and speedy Advice, puts them in Mind of all the Breaches he had made in the Laws for their Sakes; and that now, without speedy Assistance, he was likely to be ruined, and the Pagan's Hopes throughout Albion to be utterly lost. Such dreadful Words as these, and coming from a Prince that had been in every Panegyric cried up and applauded for his Constancy of Mind, and Invincible Courage, did so amaze and terrify his Counsellors, that they could not in a long time set their Hearts on any serious Consultation; some of them withdrew, then in again; presently others that had been absent, came Posting to understand and inquire into the Business; some would relate it as terrible as their Fears, and represent the numbers of the Prince's Ships and Men double; here you should see a haughty Stiffnecked Priest, come humbly fawning to a Christian Noble, as if confessing past Mis-carriages and Crimes, he wished for good Conditions: Some would be packing up their Goods and Treasure, their guilty boding Consciences foretelling their forced Flight and Ruin▪ But Pedro and Poliorchetes, the Chancellor, who were sensible they were likely to share the sum and substance of all unhappy Revolutions, thought it now no longer time to dally, or spend the precious Minutes in useless idle Fears, but to apply the most healing Medicines, that the present bleeding Wound would bear; and accordingly persuade Lycogenes to  several Edicts, that by their Instigation and Council had been promulged against the Interest and Safety of his Christian Subjects: And Father Pedro calling a Convocation of his Inferior Priests, makes them Dis-robe, and in disguise to mingle among the Christian Assemblies, in the Forum, Burse, Temples, and other public Meeting-Places, and there with Confidence to utter false Reports, to lessen the Strength of Anaximander, to cry up the miseries of a Civil War, to Extol the Loyalty of the King's Christian Subjects, to make comparison between young Perkin's Expedition and this, and thence to conclude positively of the like success: The Court party also of Renegado Christian Divines, were ordered to Preach up the necessity of Obedience and Loyalty, to withstand the Prince in his Attempts, and to brand his Expedition with the horrible Title of Invasion. These, and many other Arts were used to take off the Edge of Anaximander's Sword; sometimes they'd Brand His Royal Person with base and ignominious Names; other times they would think to terrify the Rebels (as they would call all that should assist him) with the Exemplary Punishments, inflicted by the Chancellor Polyorchetes, in his bloody Western Campaigne: But all would not do, the Christians knew the Pagan Punic Faith, as well as Inhuman Cruelty, they saw their Laws, their Liberties, and Lives at Stake; and that now was the only time to assert and recover them; the Pagan Priests had often mocked the King out of his most Solemn Promises, and Messalina had endeavoured to entail their Slavery upon them to all Posterity. Nothing therefore could stagger their former Resolutions, but like the Adder, they were Deaf to all their treacherous Charms, and false Insinuations: Notwithstanding, Messalina's dauntless Pride could not till the Princes Landing stoop to the apprehension of any material Danger; she'd often chalk out time and place to see the fond weak Prince brought bound to Troynovant; She'd Laugh and Jeer at his few puny Forces, and would in every Table Talk defeat his whole Battalions; sometimes She'd call her Melancholy Lover, whose deeper apprehensions, now had changed his usual Mirth; sometimes, I say, She'd call him to her, and reproach his needless Fears: What? would She say, Can Davila suspect or fear, when Messalina 's Heart is free? Can thy so much applauded Courage stoop to what a poor weak Woman's Soul can stand? Stand did I say? By all that's good, this Hand shall how the Neck of that poor Spirited Prince, that weak presumptuous Wretch, that dare Invade my Husbands losty Crown: What my Dear Davila, canst thou lament? Hast thou a Diadem to lose, a Throne to be pulled down, Subjects and Slaves to be destroyed before thy Face? These may create a Monarch's doubts and fears: What then should thy Eyes swell with needless Tears? Remit, remit, alas, thy useless apprehensions! I sure am the Centre of thy Thoughts: In me thy utmost Wishes are determined; while then I stand secure, What needest thou fear? Cheer up, cheer up, my dear loved Count; let us not lose our present happy Minutes, for vain weak doubts of future Cares and Sorrows.  
The Count both wondered and rejoiced at the great Heroic Heart of his beloved Royal Mistress; and tho' he knew, and was perfectly sensible that her words were rather the effect of her dauntless Spirit, than of a solid Consideration; yet he saw so much Love expressed in her frequent concernment for him, that he could not but in common Gratitude and Honour, make her the same, or suitable returns; he therefore told her Majesty, That his apprehension of being separated from her, was without doubt, a sensible affliction to him; but above all he deplored his great unhappiness, in not being able to afford more than his own personal assistance, to repel her own, and their great Prophet's Enemies; that he cordially wished the Prince Anaximander's undertake might prove as frivolous and ineffectual, as she had declared them; that his great care of her Majesty's Safety and Honour, was the only Foundation of his Fear; that he did indeed object the worst to himself, but did not believe he had yet any reason to despair of the best; that he was sensible her supereminent Merit had rendered her Obnoxious to the Slanderous reproaches and envy of the Wicked Christian Albionites; that the King her Husband's Zeal, in a good and pious Cause, had incurred the wicked Malice of his rebellious Subjects; and that if his Affairs (which Heaven forbid) should happen to fail, it would be the total ruin and destruction of his Life and happiness, to think she should fall into the Hands of her Enemies, or be lessened in her Fortune or high Station; that therefore it was his humble and hearty request, that she would suffer himself, and some other select Friends to consult and lay before her such measures for the security of her Person and Honour, as should appear to be most convenient; that providing against the worst would be no hindrance of her enjoyment of the best; but above all, that she would give him her resolution and firm promise to let himself accompany and wait on her in all, and every Misfortune that possibly could befall her. Messalina was ravished with this so zealous and tender demonstration of her Dear Count's Love, and in a loving transport catching his Hand and Arm, she pulled him to her on a Couch whereon she sat, where with unspeakable Raptures she would Circle her Snowy Arms and Hands, about his Neck and Waste; Oh! how she'd such his Amorous ruddy Lips and Cheeks, and with her Balmy melting Hand stroke, and press, and play with his Manly Neck, and Face, " Oh! couldst thou think Dear Cruel Heart, said she, that e'er my Panting Soul could yield to part with thee, the Dearest, blessed Fountain of its joy; Fortune, indeed with rude or Impartial hands may catch and grasp my Shaken, Tottering Crown; but sure my Heart and Will, are still my own; and being mine, who Dare Pretend to Stop, or Claim what I resolve to Share, to Give, to Keep for only Thee. No, no, my Life, my Davila, continued she: " If Fate or Cursed Inconstant Fortune have decreed my Separation from this Illbred Isle, Thou like my better Genius shalt attend me, thou like my happy Star shalt lead the Way: where e'er we come we'll be each others Heaven, and in thy Bosom will I place my Land of Joy, and Rest. With these last words they fell together on the Couch, and tired with busy Love and Rapture, soon dropped into a gentle Slumber. Faithful Tomaso, in the mean time was hover about the Outguards to prevent surprise, and to diver the access of any suspicious Persons: She had waited half an hour or little more, when comes a Messenger from King Lycogenes to Messalina, which brought account, the Prince was now at Sea, and with a numerous Fleet was making all the Sail he could for Albion: the Marchioness receives the Message, and all in Tears repairs with open Mouth to the Queen's Closet: the Queen waking abruptly at the Noise she made, starts up, and with a sudden Shriek alarms the Count; Anaximander comes, Dread Sovereign cries the Marchioness, he comes with Speed and Power and Swears to Unravel all? O Mighty Operations! the Count who had hardly yet recovered himself, was looking about when he had heard the Marchioness declare he was come, and putting himself on his Guard, swore he'd Defend his Royal Mistress to the last; Oh! that his Single Fate, Cries Mesalina, were to be opposed to thine: Inspired by Love and my auspicious Prayers, how wouldst thou crush his Puny Soul. Soon shouldst thou nip these daring Christians hopes, and with one happy blow secure our Pagan Friends and Interest for ever. In the mean time Lycogenes in late and early Counsels, was contriving how to stop this overflowing Current of the Prince's designs; he had observed an unusual blithness in all his Christian Nobleses Faces, and was sensible that the Prince Anaximander could not presume to attack the Alhionites, without very good Encouragement from the Grandees: however, with all his industry he was not able to learn out who were Anaximanders Abettors in this hold design; Father Pedro and others of his Antichristian Council were advising him to lay hold on, and secure all that he could but in the least suspect; but this being controverted was found too Violent, and more than the present Circumstances of affairs could bear; others suggesting the doubtful Loyalty of the great City of Troynovant, 'twas thought advisable to secure the Citadel, in some Peculiar trusty hands, and thereby to scare that Populous and Powerful Place into a just Obedience: this was found good and Feasible, and straight a new Commander is ordained, with secret orders how to manage things to the best advantage. In the mean time, the Prince Anaximander, steers away, and without any  or hindrance, in a few days arrives safe at a convenient Haven, in the West of Albion; and now the Thread of Poor Lycogenes his Fate began to crack, now he could plainly see the errors of his Government, and when it was unhappily too late, might Curse the base designs of his pernicious Counsellors: now was he forced to stoop that Glorious Lofty Heart, which dauntless hererofore had braved the mightiest force of Europe. How was he changed, alas, from that brave Invincible Lycogenes, that did through Clouds of Smoke and Fire, Charge through the Belgian Fleet, and with fresh Laurels Crowned, returned in Triumph to his joyful Country: now every little Western breeze that heretofore did serve to blow and kindle up his flaming Courage, like some cold Pestilential air damps his Misgiving Soul; now Poor, forsaken of himself he stands, Conscience alone of Ills passed done remains his tiresome guest: Attend ye cursed race of wicked Jebusites, see the Prodigious effects of your Pernicious Counsels, ye Clogs to Crowns, and bane of Power.  
Empire's to Shake, and Monarches to Dethrone,  
Cursed Race of Loyala's thy Work alone.  
Kings, Crowns, and States o'er thrown! no more? alas;  
Those Records fill not half thy Leaves of Brass.  
What need those stored up Coals (scarce worth Heaven's while)  
For mighty Doomsday, Nature's Funeral Pile:  
Let Thee but lose for th' Universe o'er turning,  
Thy Single Brand would set the Globe a Burning.  
The Prince Anaximander no sooner appeared with his Fleet, but the Christians all about the Country flocked to the Shore, and with loud shouts and all other demonstrations of Joy, welcomed the arrival of their great Deliverer: and several with Boats stocked with fresh Provision put off and dispersed them about the Fleet, for the refreshment of the Seamen and Soldiers, and having provided before small Bridges and other conveniencies for the Landing his Army, and his Carriages, he found himself in a condition within three days to draw up and muster his Men, who had by this time hearty recovered the Fatigue of their Voyage. Lycogenes in the mean time, though very much dejected, had taken care to Levy a Gallant Army, and it was one while thought a very doubtful thing, to which, to ascribe the Victory▪ Anaximander had not brought with him above Fourteen Thousand Horse and Foot, but those indeed Experienced Veterane Bands, very Completely Armed; besides, Lycogenes before the Prince landed, had at least Thirty Thousand well appointed Soldiers, so that when he began thoroughly to compute his own strength, and his Enemy's weakness, he thought to take heart, and resolved for the greater Encouragement of his Men to appear at the head of them himself, and withal speed to give his Enemy's Battle, and hinder their further Progress into the Country; but alas, while he was flattered and amused with the strength and bravery of his own Army, Anaximander was mustering and entertaining the Choice Young Men of all the Western Country: for the People considering the Cause, and that their Liberties and Lives, were now their only last stake, they came flocking in so fast to the Prince, that he had in eight days more Substantial choice Men than he could handsomely make use of; besides, the Major part of Lycogenes his Army, being Christians, they could not but be sensible that those Swords that they should draw against their Brethren in the West, would at the long run be employed against their own Throats and Lives; and therefore, being already weary of submitting their Freeborn Souls to the Bondage and Tyranny of their Pagan Officers, they associate and take Council together how to free themselves and their Country, by either, laying down their Arms, or going over to the Prince Anaximander, and now the fatal Period of Lycogenes his Reign drew near, for first whole Companies, Troops, and Regiments of his Army revolt from him, and then his Friends and Near Relations, touched with the sense of deeper obligations due to their Country, their Religion and their God: Thus the Trump being turned, the Pagans quickly find their disadvantage of the Game, and in Confusion, like distracted Men fling up their Cards, and scamper to secure themselves from payment. Messalina also to her Sorrow sees what hitherto she never would believe; now Pedro finds the fallacy of his conclusions, while Polyorchetes, Sunderania, and others of that wicked grew curse their unlucky Stars, and seek in every corner for some place of refuge: Poor Lycogenes flies in confusion from his distant Foes, not able to endure even the report of their approach: He that like another Xerxes saw himself begirt even with a world of Guards, now flies bereft almost of necessary Attendance: He no sooner arrived at his old Palace of Alba Regalis, but in hast he calls a Secret and Solemn Council of all his few remaining Friends, and after such Debates as the time would afford and permit, they resolve to send proposals to the Prince, who like a Swelling Tide had now o'er spread the Country; and the danger being grown beyond recovery, Messalina, at last thinks it high time to prepare for her retirement, and with all speed provide for her Security; the Young Child also by the advice of the Council was to be nicely taken care of, being likely to prove a very good after Game. The Queen therefore immediately sends for the Count to a private Conference, who as greedily comes, in hopes to persuade her to a speedy Flight: Just as he approached the Closet Door, the Queen all in tears gets up, and not being able for a while to speak, leans on his Neck, and after many growing Sobs and heavy Sighs, falls Fainting in his Arms: never was Lover in so sad distress as was the Count at this unhappy accident; call out he dare not, for fear of any Suspicion or ill interpretation of his being with the Queen alone; to go and leave her Dying as he thought, his Soul could ne'er agree to; how to assist, what remedy to use, where to get any thing to apply he knew not: distracted thus he Tore himself, and Raved, and Cursed his misfortune, then would he kneel by the Couch whereon he had laid her, and kiss, and sigh, and Pray, and call, till at last the Queen coming to herself opened her dying Eyes, and casting a Languishing look at her Dear Count, who was now in a bitter Agony of Sorrow, and hardly able to support his oppressed Spirits, she raised herself a little on the Couch, and in a Sorrowful manner lifting up her Hands and Eyes, recounts a fresh the sum of her Misfortunes: All, all, is lost, Dear Davila, said she, my Hopes, my Peace, my Joy, my Glories, my All. And if I have aught left me worth the Thought of Life, it is, that I enjoy thy Love. That Coronet's my own, though my Crown's lost. Messalina is now driven to the Fatal Period of her Grandeur in Albion, a shock so dismal, that the Agonies of such a Fall, to such Soaring Ambitition as Mesalina's, are only to be conceived by those that feel them. In her fit of Desperation (for 'twas almost come to that) she is Mrs. however of Reason enough still to provide at least against the Worst of shames, and Last of Miseries, her falling into her Enemy's Hands, the Christians, a Danger at that Time much threatened; the united Murmurs of Albion looking up to no other Fountain, and Original of the Woes and Calamities, of the Pitied and Deplored Lycogenes, than the Hot Counsels, or rather Enchantments of Messalina, and her Pagan Abettors. And how heavy the weight of such an Inquisition would fall, even her Flatterers are but too sensible. Her Flight therefore, being now the last Plank she has to lay hold off to scape sinking, she prepares a small Diminutive Yatcht, and hires (command she could not, so feeble is Sovereignty without Hearts) a handful of Select Seamen, all well bribed, and well sworn, privately, to waft her safe to Gothland, the only Sanctuary. (Such Universal Enemies had her Politics pulled down) the World could yield her. Oh Zeal, Zeal, mad Zeal! what Humane Distresles, Miseries, Ruins are Thine, and Thy only Creation?— Nay, is there scarce that one Conflagration, that ever set whole Nations in a Flame, that has not been lighted by a Coal from an Altar? Unfortunate Messalina, and deservedly so, the late Royal Partner, to no less than Neptune's Sovereign, the Ocean's Lord, and the still Terror of the World, had not Zeal, Infatuating, Destroying, Dethroning Zeal, blazed out; Poor misguided, deluded, hard-fated Lycogenes! This very Messalina, of all those Floating Castles, the late attending Pageants of her Triumph, all those once Impregnable Famed Walls of Albion; lest Mistress of no more than a poor Cockboat! Instead of glittering Flags, and flowing Streamers, ushered by all the Tritons of the Main, and as She passed, Saluted by all the Echoing Thunder from the Shoar; now to Steal away by Night, Skulk like a Fugitive, obscured by Shades and Coverts! Yes, Destiny and Zeal have so Decreed it! For Sea therefore (such her Equippment, and such the hastening Cause that called her) She prepares; and takes with her, her Tomaze, Sunderania, Count Davila, Sebastian, and Pedro, and some others of her Cabinet Friends; the last Three only being a little Transformed, by Disguises of Buff, Scarborow let and Feather, metamorphosed into downright Militants: For indeed her Ecclesiastic Confidents, especially Father Pedro, were grown so notoriously Infamous, that they durst not trust themselves in their own Shapes, even with Sworn Hirelings and Mercenaries; not Gold itself being sufficient to purchase Trust or Safety. The Queen had but very little jest, to save and carry with her, except her Jewels; for truly in spite of all that good Husbandry, that eminent and singular good Quality in Lycogenes; yet what with Standing Armies, and no Taxes (for he neither loved or pleased Senates enough, for any new Donations from them) and from the continual daily Dreine, he received from those innumerable Spiritual Horseleeches, that hung upon his Purse-strings, his Exchequer was but low. Messalina's Jewels therefore, being all the Treasure she could save; those by Father Pedro's particular Advice, were committed to the Charge and Custody of an Italian Priest, recommended to her by him, as a Heavenly minded man, a Recluse from the World, and who as a Person under a Vow of Poverty, of a Character and Profession above any Temptation, was the only man she could best repose that Trust in. Thus Embarked, with their best Sails to their small Frigate; with a Fair Wind, and Prosperous Gale, they arrive at Gothland: for indeed the just Ordaining Powers, that had punished her with the loss of a Crown, after so heavy a Wreck at Land, thought fit to bond their Indignation there.  
From her Arrival in Gothland, the Scene gins a little to Change: For the Pagans there, with no small Homage and Adoration, resound her Welcome. The Entertainment she received, as peculiarly influenced by the Commands of Polydorus, was every where Splendid and Magnificent: I dare not call it his Bounty, or Generosity. For truly, all the utmost Services, Respect, Obligations, Protections, or Assistance; and indeed, all, and more than Polydorus has, or can do for Lycogenes, or Messalina, so near a part of him; are but poor and faint Returns, to compensate those Miseries and Sufferings, in which his own private Leagues and Cabals, and the too prevailing  Counsels and Measures in Albion, have involved the ruined Lycogenes. With a Noble Train of Persons of the Highest Quality, and a Band of Guards, a truly Royal Rerinue, is Messalina Conducted to the Gothick Court; whilst Polydorus himself, with that solemn State and Grandeur, comes to meet her, and Congratulate her Arrival; paying her all that Humble and Profound Respect, and Awful Attendance, as if she came not from Quitting, but to the Possessing of a Diadem: So Pompous was her Entry, that scarce an Antique Roman Triumph could exceed it. And indeed she came to Triumph, the very first Sally of her Eye, bringing her back no less a Trophy, than the Heart of Polydorus. To give her her Right, even without Flattery; never was Conquest so Expeditious: No sooner was the very Lightning seen, but the Bolt had Executed. So Dazzling were her Charms, to the surprised Polydorus, that he truly dated his entire Vassalage, from the first Moment he saw her. His once Adored Dear Vestal Divinity, or his Haughtier Montezania's Charms, were nothing to the Influence of Messalina: so unaccountable is the Archery of the Blind God: For Messalina had been no Stranger to Polydorus: when before her Marriage with Lycogenes, in her Travel from her own Italic Duchy, to the Kingdom of Albion, she took the Court of Polydorus in her way; yet, than her Beauties, though in their Younger bloom, could be beheld without half the present Fatality. For, whether his then Regnant Vestal Mrs had so filled his Soul, as had left no Room for any other Guest, or for what Reason else; a common Veneration was all the Offering he made her then; when Sighing, Desiring, Languishing, Dying, whole Hecatombs are all too little Sacrifices now. In fine, so Caprieious an Ascendant had his present Governing Planets, that that very Polydorus fated for the Dethroning of the Unfortunate Lycogenes; the same Matchivilian Part, before Practised against his Crown, must now be Acted against his Bed. For from this Hour, Friendship, Honour, Hospitality, (Obligations not the first time dispensed withal by Polydorus) and all other ties quite cancelled; the Possession of Messalina, though at the price of a Kingdom, is his whole and sole Ambition. For Messalina he Burns, and were her Virtue a Rock of Ice, (which for aught he knows it may be); for though indeed he was no Stranger to all other her Intrigues and Affairs, however in her Curtai● Arcana, her Amours, he was no Cabinet Counsellor) he resolves to melt it down; and that so far from a scruple at the Undertaking, that he should account it not only the sweetest, but the most glorious of all his Achievements. For setting all other Considerations apart, what Polydorus once but willed, he could not will unjustly; his Ambition was Commissioned of his Conscience's High Chancellor, whilst to Desire was to Determine; and whatever but once Determined, took the immediate Stamp of Right and Equity to pass it into an irrevocable Decretal; insomuch, that the very Dethroning of a God, if once thought practicable, to desire it was enough to render it justifiable.  
As there wanted no Magnificence in all her Entertainment from her first Landing, even before the Captivity of the enamoured Polydorus, you may imagine no excesses of the highest studied Gallantry were omitted now. The Adored Messalina is Lodged in a Palace so Glorious, as might have fitted the Reception of a second Cleopatra in all her Pride; and which her Anthny, the then Competitor for Universal Empire, and in all that Love that lost him the World for her, could not have furnished out more rich and Splendid: Nor did the Brightness and Richness of her Palace consist only in the outside Wealth and Beauty of her Shining Beck, Embroidered Canopys, the richest of Tapestries, Cabinets, Scruitores, etc. The unseen Treasures, outvy●… the glittering Frontispiece: In this Drawer of a Cabinet Forty, another's Fifty, a Third a Hundred Thousand Pieces of Gold; a Fourth, Lockets 〈◊〉 Diamonds, a Fifth, Ropes of Pearl, etc. And all to mean a Tribute to his Sovereign Messalina. And truly now we talk of Pearl and Diamonds, her own Cargo of Jewels, committed to the true and trusty Italian Priest aforesaid, were under Suspicion of miscarriage; both the Treasure and the Treasurer being at present Invisible: We dare not surmise so unkindly, that Avarice, or filthy Worldly Lucre, could prevail upon so Sanctified a Recluse from the World, under a particular Vow of Poverty; and above all, thought worthy (as we told you) of the peculiar recommendations of Father Pedro, could make Him tardy in such a Case. But whether, on the more charitable side, by some impulse of Religion he reserved them for Holy & Pious Uses; as to present them to the Shrine of the Lorrettian Diana, to implore from her Celestial Benediction, her Albion Majesty's Conception of a Duke of Eborac, to her Prince of Cambria; or for any other like Dedication to Holy Mother Church, so it is, that he was no sooner gotten on Shoar, but modest good Man, he withdrew, and was never seen after it. And notwithstanding Polydorus published an Edict, promising a very ample Reward to that Person that should find him, and recall the Wanderer: Either his Divine Contemplations, and sublimer Meditations, had rapt him above the listening to humane and mundane Proclamations; or else his Devout Pilgrimage had carried him beyond the hearing of them, so that his Recallment is utterly Despaired of; insomuch, that unless her Albion Majesty be content to take out their Price in Dirges for her Soul, 'tis thought for any other Restitution or Payment, she now hopes but little. Polydorus now gins his approach to Messalina, resolving an immediate vigorous Siege, with all the Forces he can bring to lie down before her: His daily Visits, Observance, and constant Attendance, which at first carried only the Face of common Gallantry, and looked upon by all Eyes as no other than the Generous Treatment of a Royal Hospitality to Greatness in Distress, and under his Protection; are now both by his Looks, Behaviour, and Address, so Industriously managed, that Messalina (unless she wanted Eyes) must find that in the Assiduous Polydorus, there was something more than a kind Host, viz. an Adoring Slave.  
The Queen now fully satisfied how great a Vassal her Eyes had won her, gins to consider the Wise Management of so Important a Conquest. Polydorus' Address and Personage, even abstracted from his Imperial Character, and the Luster of a Crown, were such as always stood fair in the Female Eyes, and rendered his Heart no dis-acceptable Present to the very Proudest and most Disdainful Beauty. And our Messalina who was neither the Coyest, or most In-sensible of her Sex, already felt a Commiseration about her, that told her the Sighs of so Royal a Languisher must not go unpitied. Time, Assiduity, and Application, she plainly foresaw, would at last inevitably prevail; and therefore fancying it no less than the Absolute Ordainment of her Fate, she has no farther Thought than an entire Resignation to Immutable Decree. However, though the Stake must at last be lost, yet the Playing her Game out Politicly, and managing her Cards to her best Advantage, are in her own Choice and Power. Yes, that, and that only takes up all the business of her waking, and indeed sleeping Thoughts. The Terms and Conditions of a Surrender; What Parley and Capitulations first; what Resolution and Obstinacy (for the Victory must not be Cheap) she must hold out with, before the White Flag is at last to be hung out. Her Meditations on this subject had one Evening led her alone from all Company into an Inner and Private Walk of the Garden; When Polydorus, whose unresting Soul had led his Body abroad too with much the same Contemplations, fortunately meets her. This opportunity as it gave him the Blessing of a more Private Interview, then before he had met, so it inspired him with the Courage of making a more ample and particular Declaration of his Love, than all his hitherto fainter and distant Addresses had made. Accordingly throwing himself at her Feet, in the Tenderest and most Passionate Expressions (the never wanted Eloquence of Love) he told her how entirely the Soul of Polydorus was subjected to the Eyes of Messalina: Nor did he more heighten the Progress of her Victories, & Power of her Charms, than the Fatality of them; that without a Return of Pity his Death was Inevitable, whilst his Peace, Happiness and Life were absolutely in her Hands. The Queen, whose part was now to Play, with a seeming Amazement, rather than a listening Attention, gave him the Liberty of finishing his whole Declaration; when as Waking from a Frightful Dream, or Starting from a disturbing Vision, Good Gods, she cried, are not your Quivers Empty yet? Have ye more Shafts reserved still for the unfortunate Messalina? Is it not enough that your Persecuting Powers have Ravished an Empire from me, and Driven me out an Exile, a Wanderer of the World; but I must yet fall lower; low as the most abject of my Sex, when my  Ears must be Profaned with the Rude Sounds of Lawless Love; Oh! Polydorus, Cruel Polydorus, has Misery and Ruin made the fallen Messalina so little, so despicably little— No, Glorious Madam, (Passionately replied Polydorus) so Great, so Divinely Great, that the Gods have singled you out to Wield their Thunder, whilst there's not one Bolt of Heaven that Strikes with Fate but Messalina ' s. Oh! Madam, if ever Compassion, Mercy, Charity, Entered the fairest Temple that ever Lodged a God, have Pity on the Adoring, Kneeling, Dying Polydorus. My Life,— alas, my very Soul depends upon no other Doom but Messalina 's; for if the Deaf, the Cruel, the Inexorable Messalina must not, cannot, will not Pity me, to Die is but half the Tribute my Despair must pay her: The Transports of a Passion like mine are such, that when I lose all Hopes of one kind Smile from Messalina, she leaves me abandoned to that Wild Torrent of unbounded Horrors, that less than the Abjuring of Humanity, the Execrating of Providence, and Cursing the very Author of my Being, will be the fatal Consequences of my irresistible Desperation; a Desperation so hideous, that when I fall a Victim to her Scorn, will shut me out at once from Earth and Heaven. Messalina, not at all Displeased at so Passionate a Declaration, however to continue the Masque of a most Rigid and Obdurate Virtue, Reprimands him with all the Severest Resentments imaginable, desires him, nay, Conjures him for ever to Cease a Suit so Fruitless, and a Thought so Impious, a Language that her unblemished never shaken Virtue can so little hear, that rather than liv● within the Air of so much Gild, her wounded Innocence must be forced to Fly a Cruel Court, and seek a Resuge in some kinder and more Hospitable Desert. Ah! Madam, replied Polydorus, Than you have Decreed Mankind must be undone! Shall Empires, Nations, People, have Peace, when I have none! No Madam, 'tis resolved that Messalina Hate, Scorn, Loath the Unworthy Polydorus. Yes, his Destruction, his Irrevocable Destruction's Sealed; and by the Malice of my Stars, the World shall Groan as I do. He was once more falling at her Feet, when a Princely Train of the Noblest Quality of the Gothland Court appearing in the Garden, interrupted him. He had scarce recovered Reason enough to suppress the too visible concern and disorder, that appeared in his Eyes, much less the Load that lay at his Heart, when one of his Generals Advancing from the rest of the Noble Company, threw himself at his Feet, telling him, He was immediately in Obedience to his Royal Commands, setting forward to the General Randezvous on the Banks of the Rhine, and came in Duty to Receive his farther Commission and Orders. Commission and Orders! Answered Polydorus; Why, Burn, Ravage, Ruin, Destroy; make Nations waste, and Kingdoms Desolate; spare neither Age nor Sex; but above all, where e'er thou meetest that loathed detested Thing, that calls itself a Christian, double thy Fury there, Banish all thoughts of Pity or Remorse; be Bloody and be Canonised: Remember the Christian Pride is swelled to ulceration; and 'tis the Glory of our Sword to Lance it. And if thou meetest a Temple, lay the Accursed Consecrated Roof in Ashes; the God that sills it is my Enemy; and 'tis but Just my Vengeance Battle Heavens. If thou makest Treaties or Capitulations, my Orders are, you break 'em all. Betray and Conquer. Heaven ne'er kept Faith with me, and 'tis but Reason, we the Vicegerents of the Gods should Copy their own everlasting Falsehood, and Reign Immortal Infidels like themselves. You have my Orders; to your Post; Obey and Prosper. The General upon the King's Command, makes his Humble Obeisance to the King, and Retreats, Ruminating with some little Surprise on the severity of his present rough Commission; which however, on what unknown occasion that had transported him into such Vehemence and Bitterness in the expressing himself, he nevertheless knew to be the true and constant Sense of that Great Monarch; and all his former Orders, though perhaps something gentler and softer worded, carried in reality the same Contents and Mandates; and accordingly in all Duty prepares to Execute.  
But to return to our Polydorus, whose Tormenting Reflections on the Cruelty of Messalina had, withdrawn him from all Company to his Closet; In all the Agonies of defeated Love, he could not yet entirely yield to Despair: Were her Virtue a Rock of Adamant: Nay, were she possibly as Deaf, as Pitiless, and Remorseless to all his Bleeding Sighs, as himself to a Dying Christians last Prayer, he will not quit the Siege yet. Accordingly not a day, nor scarce an hour passes that he does not Visit, Court, Sue, Plead, and spite of all Denials, all her Pleas of Virtue and Chastity, that Mountain Honour shall not block his way. Sometimes he Woes her with the Promised Restauration of her Albion, the Reinstating her in all her former Grandeur; and if the Crown of Albion will not purchase a Smile, he'll throw his own in, to make up the Sum. In short, No Gallantry, Address; no Protestations, Vows or Oaths, though ne'er so Extravagant, are wanting to pursue the Coy Disdainful Messalina: till one Morning in her Walk in the same Garden, his succesaful Rhetoric prevails; or rather Messalina thinks she has now held out long enough to yield with Honour: For after his Repeated Protestations of the Crowns and Sceptres he would lay at her Feet, and the Vassal World he would make her Mistress of; He told her, If Messalina would but Condescend to Crown his Love, he would pay his Acknowledgement of so Divine a Blessing, with no less a Sacrifice then a hundred thousand Christian Lives. A hundred thousand Christian Lives! my Generous Polydorus, replied Messalina. Such Merit, such Transcendent Merit! An Offering of that price enough to Court a Saint, and Win a Goddess. Such Eloquence is ; nay, the name of such a Sacrifice so pleased her, that had the strongest Bonds of Conscience held her, that single Thought had burst the Feeble Manacle; and the offering of so much Heretic streaming Blood, were such an Atonement, as would not only expiate but consecrate the very Sin itself. So pleased and so conquered, she generously tells the Ravished Polydorus, That she will expect him at Vesper-time, when she will send all her Retinue to the Mosque to their Devotion, and Attend his Company in her Closet.  
Polydorus being now Arrived at the Haven, just upon entering the Inland of Paradise; the Hour, the Place, the Means and Opportunity all assigned for the Consummating of his. Happiness; and what heightened the Charm, his Divine Messalina herself the generous Designer of the whole Scene of Felicity; the Plot, the Introduction and Conduct to this more than happy Meeting, so much her own, that possibly, our Amorous Monarch could not conceive more Rapture at the Queen's Concession of her Highest Favours themselves, then at the Endearing management of the blessed Minute to bestow them; even the Portal to Happiness being oftentimes with Lovers no less Ravishing, than the very Temple of Bliss, to which it leads.— In short, All things contributing to make him the Happiest Prince in the World; whether a Soul, so unbounded, as that of Polydorus, whom the Empire of the Universe ('tis very well known) would hardly satisfy, had the Transports of his Passion, at exalted as those of his Ambition; and was thereby elevated above the Common Height of an ordinary Lover's Ecstasy; let it suffice, his Joy, his unexpressible Joy was such, as burnt in his Face, and glowed in his very Eyes; and the expected Enjoyment of Messalina was at that Moment a Trophy above all the Conquests that either his Sword, or his more Victorious GOLD ever won him. But to leave our Royal Lover to all his Furious Long, Impatient Expectings, and Restless Burn, those Amorous crowding Attendants, that always make the Leading Cavalcade to the Coronation of Love: My Reader must be entreated to interrupt his Expectation of the success of this Grand Scene of our two Imperial Inamorato's, by the interposing of a little Comical Intrigue of Lactilla, the Cambrian Prince's Nurse; which, whether by a Frolic of Fortune, for some particular Diversion of that Fickle Deity, or by mere common chance, it matters not; casually intermixing itself in this Sublimer Amour, must make up a part of our History.  
It is not unknown to the World what Artful Tenderness our Messalina has all along expressed for that dear Infant. But indeed, 'twas the subtlest part she had to Play, and therefore it must be Acted to the Life. In the late Storm that drove her from the lost Kingdom of Albion, and cast her on the  Shore, however that darling Infant, with all the Tenderest Care, was preserved from the Universal Shipwreck, and not only the honest Brick-kiln Nurse that Suckled it, was carried over with the Queen, and her Cambrian Nursery; but also the very Warming-pan Midwife too, crossed the Hering-pond with her Royal Mristress; and as some think very timely and prudently, for fear of that Inquisition from the Grandees of Albion, had she ventured to have stayed behind, that possibly would have put her to that Test her Circumstances would not well bear; though truly for a fairer Face to the World, 'twas Industriously given out, That her Majesty was with Child again, and therefore the Midwife's Attendance being her Majesty's special Command, 'twas her Duty to wait on her Royal Mistress to what part of the World soever her Misfortunes should carry her.  
The Amour of Messalina with Polydorus, etc. (since Lycogenes Retiring to Ibernia,) swelling so big, we are forced to make the Completing of the History the Subject of a Fourth Part.  
FINIS.